part one of the rockstar!chris x fangirl!reader au
⋆˙⟡ in which: you meet a charming guy at your local club’s masquerade night, and receive an unexpected gift from him when he leaves.
a/n: guys i’m in love with this au already
cw: reader is insecure of her looks, alcohol use, a lil smut but not too spicy (fingering), semi-public sexual activity, one night stand vibes/no aftercare
Your heeled combat boots thumped across the club bathroom floor. As you approached the mirror, you fluffed up your hair. Reaching into your purse, you pulled out your favorite lipliner and softly ran it over the edge of your lips before adding a bit of gloss and rubbing them together. You adjusted the dark red mask on your face.
Once a year, your local club hosted a masquerade night. A night where you could meet anyone, and become attracted to them based solely upon their personality— or body. This was one of your favorite events to attend, as you weren’t very confident in your looks.
Confidence, however, always came to you after a few drinks, and you were already tipsy. As you walked out of the bar bathroom, you bumped straight into a tall brunette man wearing an orange mask. As you stumbled into him, his hand found your waist and yours ended up flat on his chest.
“Woah. Careful there, mama. You good?” The man said. His voice was sweet like red velvet. It sounded slightly familiar.
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry.” You apologized, backing up instantly. His hand fell from your waist. “I totally didn’t even see you.”
“Really? Even with the bright orange mask?” He laughed, taking a swig from the Pepsi can in his other hand.
“You’re right, that thing is, like, glow in the dark.” You joked. “I don’t know how I missed it.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You know what I think? I think you bumped into me on purpose to get me to buy you a drink.”
At first, you were shocked at his forwardness, but the alcohol already in your system gave you a boost of liquid courage. “Ah, yes, you’ve foiled all of my plans.” You flirted back.
“Well, c’mon then.” He nodded his head towards the bar and smiled. Then he offered you his arm. You gave him a look and he shrugged. “What? Wearing this fancy mask makes me want to act like a gentleman.”
You laughed and took his arm. He led you over to the bar, where you each slid onto the tall stools. The bartender came over, polishing a glass.
“I’ll have whatever the lady’s having.” Chris said, nodding in your direction.
“A vodka cranberry, please.” You smiled sweetly at the bartender before turning to the brunette man beside you. “So, I don’t believe I got your name.”
“I’m Chris. And you are?” You told him your name and he smirked.
“What?” You asked.
“Oh, nothing. It’s just very fitting.”
You didn’t ask him what that was supposed to mean. Instead you turned the conversation to more personal things. “So, Chris, where are you from?”
“Los Angeles area.” He smiled and thanked the bartender as he slid you your drinks.
“Wow, LA? That’s a long way out. What are you here for?” You said, sipping your drink with the little striped straw sticking out of it. Another reason why this club was your favorite.
“I’m just visiting. With my brothers.” His eyes fell to your lips on the straw.
Oblivious, you asked: “Are they here?” You craned your neck to look around the nightclub.
“Nah, this isn’t really their scene. There’s a big concert tomorrow night, though, downtown. Thought we’d drop in.” He took a big sip from his glass, finishing it off and asking the bartender to pour a couple of shots.
“Wait, is it the Sturniolo Triplets concert?” You asked, suddenly blazed with energy. He nodded. “I’m going too! I’m, like, their biggest fan ever.”
“Really?” The corner of Chris’s mouth ticked up in amusement.
“You know it’s actually kind of funny, the drummer from the band is named Chris too. He’s my favorite member.” The alcohol was causing you to rant way too much, it was kind of embarrassing. But Chris didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he listened and smiled, as if he found your rambling endearing.
“So you’re a fangirl.” He said, tilting his head at you.
You blushed. “Maybe a little.”
“You have good taste.” He smiled. “Shot?”
You nodded and quickly sucked down the rest of your vodka cranberry.
The next hour was a blur. You did more shots than you could count, met a few new friends, and danced with your ass pressed into Chris so closely that you could feel how hard he was.
His hands were on your waist when he lowered his mouth to your ear to whisper, “Bathroom?”
You nodded drunkenly, grabbing his hand with your own and pulling him off the dance floor.
You pushed open the door to the one-stall bathroom, no doubt as many couples before you had done. When you entered, you backed yourself up against the sink. Chris locked the door behind him, then walked up to you and slid his arms around your waist.
“Hi,” You giggled drunkenly.
“Hey,” Chris chuckled. Then he reached up and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. Gently. Almost with care.
His next move was not as careful.
He crashed his lips to yours. You responded, opening your mouth lightly with a surprised moan. He took that as a sign to slip in his tongue, and you met it with enthusiasm. It was messy, but the best kind. He teased you a bit, biting your plump bottom lip and tugging lightly.
When Chris finally pulled away for air, you were both breathing heavily, chests heaving up and down in time with each other. Your breath mingled in the space between your mouths. It felt oddly intimate. He ran his thumb over your swollen lips.
“Can I see you?” He asked. You were confused, then remembered the mask covering the top half of your face.
You nodded hesitantly. He reached up and lightly tugged at the ribbon that tied the mask to your face. He took it off gently and placed it on the closed sink behind you. Then his eyes rose to your face and he inhaled sharply.
“Fuck,” He faltered. “You’re beautiful.”
Your face went red. No guy had ever called you that before. Hot, sure. Sexy, yeah. But not beautiful. And here was Chris— who was about to be a one night stand, if even that— giving you the exact words you’d longed to hear from a guy for forever.
“You’re drunk.” You said, brushing it off.
“Yeah? ’m still sober enough to touch you, if you want.” He eyed you, gauging your reaction.
You felt your insides turn to jelly. You nodded desperately, feeling your panties starting to grow wet. You loved how forward he was.
He turned you around by the waist so you were facing the mirror. His hands found your hips as he kissed down your neck. One started to push up your top as the other unbuttoned your jean shorts and dipped in under your panties.
His hand continued its journey and pushed your top up until it was bunched above your breasts, now out in the open. He found his destination at your hardened nipple, which he brushed his thumb over lightly. Your breast fit in his hand like a puzzle piece.
“God, you have fucking perfect tits.” Chris groaned into your neck.
He rolled your nipple in between his pointer and thumb. Your back arched with a loud gasp and your hand flew up behind you to tangle in his hair at the back of his head.
While he played with your nipple, his other hand began to tease your aching clit with his middle finger. This caused a whimper to fall from your mouth, which he absorbed immediately by pressing his mouth onto yours.
Your left hand gripped the edge of the sink as your whole body tingled with arousal and pleasure, gasping as you bit your lip.
“Open your mouth, mama. I wanna hear this pretty little sounds you make.” Chris hummed into your ear.
As you obeyed, he slipped his middle finger inside you. You moaned in surprise, unable to stop it, and felt Chris smile. “There you go.”
“God— mmm— fuck, Chris.” You panted. Every sensation he was giving you was multiplied by 100 with the effects of the alcohol.
“Can you take another one, baby?” He cooed and kissed your cheek. You nodded desperately.
Now he pushed both his middle and his ring finger inside you, stretching you deliciously. He curled just perfectly and hit the spot that made you see stars.
You squeezed your eyes shut, unable to handle all the sensations at once. But Chris pulled his hand from your nipple and grabbed your jaw, gently forcing you to look into the mirror.
“Open your eyes. I want you to see how beautiful you look with my fingers fucking you.”
His words caused the coil in your stomach to pull tighter and tighter. You knew it was only a matter of time before it snapped and you came all over his fingers.
Your hips jerked up into his hand, chasing the feeling that his fingers were giving you. That, however, caused his fingers to hit a spot that made you break instantly.
You came with a loud moan, your knees shaking and both of your hands gripping the sink so hard that your knuckles turned white. You shook as waves of pleasure rushed through you, filling you with a sense of euphoria.
Your hair stuck to your sweaty forehead as you and Chris stayed like that for a moment, his fingers still inside of you. He finally pulled them out and licked them clean, making your stomach flip. Then he reached around you again and pulled up your zipper and redid your shorts button, gently.
You turned around to face him again. He stared at you in wonder, almost looking like he was in awe.
Suddenly, his phone started buzzing on his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at it. “Shit,” He muttered. “I’m so sorry. I gotta go.”
“Wha—“ You started, but before you could finish the word, he’d leaned down and kissed you. You felt his fingers slip something into your back pocket.
“Text me!” He called on his way out the bathroom door.
What the fuck?
You shook your head and pulled the folded piece of paper with Chris’ number out of your pocket. Something extra fell from it, onto the ground.
You wrinkled your brows and bent down to pick it up. As you straightened, your jaw dropped.
It was a backstage pass to the Sturniolo Triplet’s concert tomorrow night.
taglist for ALL FICS (ask to be added!): @sturniolobananas10 @pawmpkinnn @courta13 @iluvchr1s @starryeyedivy @babyt0matoes @matts-babytomatoes @sturnsobsessed21 @sturniolo423 @munkincakes @starrysturns @thecrawlys @sabprincess @sorrybirds @xoxbunni @lyingonchris @urfavvbilliemunch @luvmeholdme @writtenbychrissturniolo @chrepsi @sturniololov @fartface2411 @o1iwia @sturnolojyt @liviasturnz
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8.5k words, so settle in. 18+ enemies to lovers! fem reader with tough matt. long awaited, i’m so sorry. strong dialogue, explicit language, tension, intense sexual scenes, edging. reader discretion is strongly advised.
somehow the boys have managed to drag you to their house party. well, chris and nick did. matt would much prefer you stay home, or go home as a matter of fact. you find yourself sat on a beanbag in their living room, invested in an intense game of truth or dare.
it feels nostalgic, like re-living childhood game night, and the energy is lively. all except for the irritated glares matt is shooting at you from across the room, where he's planted nonchalantly on a dining chair, arms folded, eyebrows furrowed.
you roll your eyes, not bothering to address his attitude tonight. he always shows his emotions on his face, whether he's purposely trying to or not. you're pretty sure that's the reason you two clash. you just want to have fun, brush everything off, and not let him bring your mood down. he wants to drag you down with him.
there's always a feeling of everyone walking on eggshells around matt the second his mood sours for whatever reason. you've never let him get away with it though, calling him out every time. you tend to let go of resentment, he only uses it as fuel. for that, you've never blended well with him, and he's never shied away from letting you know about the distaste he has toward you.
your name is yet to be called in the game, but you're tempting your fate by staying quiet, being in your head for most of the time consumed by your own mental scrutiny.
"y/n, truth or dare." a voice snaps you out of your deep thoughts. you actually aren't even sure who had just spoken your name, but you reply nonetheless.
"dare." you shrug, the thought 'what's the worst that could happen' crossing your mind.
"someone's feeling brave" chris challenges, and now you know it's him who called on you, voice finally registering.
you laugh lightly, quickly feeling tense about what he could possibly say next. chris rubs his hands together in thought, leaning onto his elbows and you can almost visibly see the gears turning in his brain.
"i dare you,” he begins.
“to have seven minutes in heaven with..." you're frozen with anticipation. you haven't heard those words in years. the room falls silent.
"matt." he finishes.
that. that's the worst that could happen.
"oh no," you hear nick's distinct voice from beside you. matt has his arms folded over his chest and is shaking his head, licking the inside of his cheek with disfavour.
“yeah that’s not happening.” matt responds quickly, before anyone even has a chance to react. it's like a tennis match, eyes are going from you, to matt, then back to you.
“you have to.” chris glares at his brother, and you just know if they were closer in proximity, a punch would have been thrown.
chris spends more time trying to get you and his brother to get along than he does anything else. he wants one of his best friends and brother to be able to at least tolerate each other, and he's tried everything. he might have taken it too far this time.
you sigh with a feeling of disdain, mirroring matt from across the room and crossing your arms. you stay quiet, letting him linger in the unwanted attention for a while longer.
“it’s not happening.” matt chuckles bitterly with a shrug in his shoulders.
"i told you this would happen," nick speaks at a not so subtle volume. matt only grows more irritated.
“not my dare, don’t bring me into this.” matt demurred against. you can hear it in his voice, he’s trying to sound humorous. matt’s trying not to be the bad guy in front of everyone. to shut it down in the least pessimistic way possible.
“here we go with the attitude,” nick rolls his eyes and flails his hands in the air with a touch of drama.
“i don’t have an attitude, i’d just rather do it with anyone but her.” matt’s words would sting a lot more if it wasn’t coming from him, so you’re not phased.
“i’ll do it.” you finally speak before anyone else has the chance, standing up from your spot and straightening out your clothes, beginning to move away from the group.
“what?” the three brothers express in unison, all of their jaws hung, except matt's is open ajar and tense. he's seething. you can almost hear his blood boiling.
“i said, i'll do it. if tough guy is up for it.” you talk while sauntering backwards toward his bedroom door, just making the assumption that it is the room most suitable to disappear for said seven minutes.
your eyes attempt to lock with matt, to gauge his reaction. he's viciously avoiding looking anywhere near you, let alone at you. you watch chris tempt a smile on his face, being careful not to appear too eager, if not to aggravate his brother more.
you already know your use of the word 'tough' has kicked matt's ego, and all you have to do is wait for him to stand up. he exhales sharply through his nose, and finally picks himself up from the chair, arms still crossed and face still scrunched.
"seven minutes in hell," he growls under his breath, storming past you with a bump to your shoulder into his bedroom. you roll your eyes so hard you can almost see the back of your head.
the commotion of shock and gossip happening in the living room behind you fades into white noise the second you walk into the bedroom behind matt. you close the door softly and take a moment staring at the white wood before turning around, bracing yourself for matt's negative attitude at it's peak.
"we're counting down!" you hear chris scream from the other side of the wall. matt is pacing back and forth before he finally stops in front of you and you stare at him with little to no expression.
“why the fuck did you say you’d do it?” he talks with his hands, throwing them up in the air with hostility in his tone.
“i did you a favor. they wouldn’t drop it unless one of us gave in." you lean against his bedroom door and fold your arms.
“you’re doing neither of us a favor here.” he replies, accompanied by a harsh tone.
“you would think that.” you have a bounce of merriment in your response.
“what’s that supposed to mean?” he creases his forehead, expressing deep lines of discomposure.
“couldn’t have tough guy getting his ego bruised for turning down a dare, huh?” you pout with the fakest lace of sympathy, making sure to really carve the words with tease.
“whatever, we’re not making out.” he pulls his desk chair out and drops down in it, leaning into the leather and he shakes his head again.
“i’m glad we’re on the same page with one thing." you deadpan.
“drop the sarcasm." he rubs his temples, murmuring his words.
“drop the attitude.” you counter, in a 'duh' tone.
"how about we play the silent game for the next-" he pulls his phone out, tapping the screen dramatically so it lights up and showcases the time in big white numbers.
"-six minutes?" he looks up at you, dropping his phone onto his lap and interlocking his hands in a formal way, resting his elbows on his knees.
"you know the more quiet we are, the more suspicious they'll be." you respond, knowing that either way, speculations are going to rise. logically, if his brothers are listening on the other side, all they're going to be met with is the sound of you arguing. nothing out of the ordinary.
"y'have an answer for everything, don't you?" he lifts himself from the chair, clearly not being able to stay still, tucking his phone back into his pocket.
he's seemingly fidgety and begins pacing around his room, a jaded look on his face. it's almost entertaining how his mind and body are arguing amongst themselves. you'd rather be anywhere else but in this room with him, but the fact he can't register that you're both in the same situation makes you want to bang your head against the wall. all you can think to do is be nice, but somehow that irks him even more.
"i'm just trying to help," you shrug, his quick remarks growing old already. you know the more calm you are the worse it is for him. he'd almost prefer you to go off at him. make the time pass.
matt stops in his tracks, about three steps away from you. he stares at you for a moment, glaring your body up and down which fills your mind with every self conscious thought there could possibly be. not that you care about how he perceives you, but it's a weird feeling being observed. or even standing so close to matthew in the first place.
"don't be nice." he insists, a dull tone.
"don't get used to it." you quip back.
you can see an almost grin, the most faint, subtle, forced back corner of matt's mouth rise. like that look he gives his brothers when he's proud of them, except he's fighting that look on his face because it's you he's talking to.
matt drops his face and pulls his phone out again, checking the time. he makes an audible grumble in his throat, leans against the wall next to you. he could have chosen the bed, or the desk chair. instead, he's standing at your side, leaning adjacent to you on the wall.
"five more minutes." he speaks softly to himself, leaning his head back and letting his eyes fall closed. you have no choice but to watch him, being directly in your line of vision.
"don't torture us both by checking the time." you say, plainspoken.
"that's very demanding for someone who got us in this situation." he turns to look at you, his messy hair covering his eyes slightly, but you can tell the stare he's giving you is almost lifeless, like he's looking straight through you.
"you're more than welcome to leave. put us both out of our misery," you slide to the side and hold your hand up to the door handle, simply pointing it out with a dramatic flare.
if his face could somehow drop even more, it would. he gestures his head back so he's staring ahead of him, ignoring you. it feels like a game of ‘who will budge first’. between this standoff and truth or dare, you’ve exerted your excitement for games. for tonight, at least. when matt doesn’t move, you fill the silence, finding genuine amusement in the fact he refuses to take any more hits to his pride.
“it’s okay. i get it.” you sound sincere. you’re not, but you hook the bait, throw the line in the water, and wait for matt to bite.
“please, tell me what you ‘get’, y/n?” matt uses air quotes with his index and middle finger through his sentence, becoming more animated when he’s defensive.
“you don’t want anyone to see you running out on the first girl you’ve managed to get alone in your room” you smile sweetly. he bites.
“you think i needed a dare to get a girl in my room?” he pans to you again with narrow eyes, mouth open agape. his body language shifts, and he leans toward you.
“your brothers sure seemed to think so.”
“can't say i'd trust their judgment.” matt slowly darts his eyes up and down your body again, more earnest this time. the look in his eyes correlating with his words.
your body betrays you the moment you let a small laugh slip from your lips, and you press them together hard before he’s given the chance to acknowledge it. you don’t consider your next move, and it happens almost instinctively, being so close to him and the tension in the air in between feeling so thick. you nudge his shoulder, in an almost sincere, playful way.
you’ve never imagined making contact with him like this. matt nudges you back, making you stumble on your balance slightly. you let out a more content sigh.
“go out there and you tell them whatever you want. tell them i threw myself at you for all i care.” you daze at the ceiling.
there’s a glimpse of hope that your words actually do encourage him to go. to physically leave the room. it’s a foreign, bittersweet feeling. matt doesn’t speak, he just hums. a hum that you translate to a no.
what feels like an hour passes. the one minute of dead silence is too tense. both your bodies are tense and taut. your auras blocking off any liveliness. the thumping of the music shaking the walls is becoming overbearing, and somewhat unenjoyable.
"what are you trying to prove by staying?" you speak again, not in a malicious way, no actual intention of pissing him off, but somehow you've managed to push just the right button.
“fuck, you really don't shut up, do you?”
“just trying to make the most of the time we have left.” you speak through grit teeth, sensing he’s spiraling back into a reluctant attitude.
"i'm not trying to prove anything," he retorts, heavy emphasis on the word prove. sharp pronunciation, tight teeth, no eye-contact.
"alright, tough guy." you reply just above a whisper, or so you believe.
matt pushes himself off the wall in a huff and turns his body toward you in a split second, and suddenly a shadow is towering over you. matt's chest is inches away from yours and his eyes are piercing. his hair is kissing your forehead like a breeze, and you can smell the cologne that's lingering on his black t-shirt.
"don’t you dare say that again." he plays on the theme of the night, eyes wider, yet darker and more glassy, like if you look hard enough you can see your reflection in his pupils.
you bite your bottom lip with contemplation. a weird wonder as you look into his eyes. matt presses his palm to the wall beside your head, titling his own to the side as he glues his eye's to your mouth, watching carefully for your next words to slip.
"or what? tough guy." you glare.
with the three minutes you presumably have left, you have no fight left in you. that lack of contest has you standing so still and silent you feel like you can hear your own and matt's heart beat. quickening, beating faster with him inching closer.
his hand raises and in the blink of an eye slides around the back of your neck, pulling you to clash with his lips harshly. you impulsively grab at his chest, mind flooding with a million thoughts but ultimately, almost through animal instinct, give in completely. just for a minute.
matt's mouth parts open and falls onto yours again, grabbing at your bottom lip and scraping lightly with his teeth before biting down, making you push him away. it's almost like it's shocking your body back into reality.
he doesn't even have a smile on his face, he just looks at you.
"why did you do that?" you can't even muster up a good cuss word to hiss through your question.
"to shut you up." he replies overtly, scoffing and pulling himself back to turn away from you. he's only a meter away and yet somehow leaves you feeling cold, and alone in the same space.
"you could have just told me to shut up" you raise your voice ever so slightly, annoyance growing at the fact he's just waltzes away like nothing happened.
"yeah, i tried that. doesn't work with you." he exhales.
"what the fuck just happened?" you speak aloud, perplexed, glancing around the room like there's an audience watching.
matt drops down onto his mattress for quite literally a split second, and stands right back up the moment he catches a glimpse of his phone.
"the seven minutes just ended, that's what happened." he disregards you completely, elation when he speaks.
matt reaches his arm around your body, but this time grasping the door handle that sits just below your hip. the back of matt's palm brushes your side, but he's complacent in pulling it open, sweeping it toward him with you. it forcibly shoves you to the side and you immediately try to jostle the door back with your shoulder blade, but matt prevails.
“oh, and you’re welcome by the way” he flashes you a pleased, sneeringly sweet look, one that you’re not reciprocating.
“for?” you shout, arms flailing with your expression.
“that slice of heaven.” he winks, before disappearing with ease around the corner. in an instant, he undoes every optimistic thought about him.
"matthew, i swear to go-" you whip around the door frame to target him, needing closure, but you collide with chris instead. you take a deep breath of frustration and close your eyes, bringing your hand to your nose that just hit chris's bicep.
"dude, we were just about to knock," he looks at you, confused, with his arms up in defense. chris is watching your manic movements as you look past him, and keep walking with purpose. you have to force yourself to even retain what he had just said.
"you couldn't have done that a minute earlier?" you scold, more to yourself, as you strut back into the living room.
the game of truth or dare is over, no one is in a circle anymore, the music is louder and more deafening with bodies scattering the open kitchen and living space. you inhale and exhale slowly, needing to regroup. to calm yourself down.
you scan the room. for the first time in your life, hoping to catch matt's figure in the crowd.
you lock eyes with him from across the room and he’s leaning against a half wall, looking up through hooded eyes. you don’t know what kind of high he’s running on, but the moment he catches sight of you, a conceited smirk grows on his face. like he knew you would come looking for him. he runs his tongue over the front of his teeth, lips pulling at the corner. there’s a girl shadowed by his body, attempting to talk to matt, twirling her hair around on her finger. she’s desperately trying to get his attention.
the room is in slow motion for a moment. he’s only looking at you. your peripheral vision fades into a mist and the music shreeks in your ear. there’s an overwhelming feeling of embarrassment that washes over you. it’s replaced your confusion, and dismay. there’s a whirlwind of emotions you don’t know what to do with. so you simply don’t use them on him. you’ve resented how he treats you for a while, but at this moment it’s reached its peak. this is what you get for dropping your guard.
you remove yourself from the room to find somewhere, anywhere else, that he won’t be.
although all the blinds have been pulled down, you know exactly where to find a safe space, hidden behind a glass sliding door and out to a small balcony just outside their living room. the moment you shut that door behind you, the silence is forgiving. the balcony hits you with a sharp, cold breeze. you’re not dressed for the night chill, but you don’t care. you tug the long sleeves of your cotton top in attempts of keeping your hands warm, rubbing them together.
your face feels hot, and your eyes are stinging. you’re trying to convince yourself it’s from the wind, but you’re not sure who you’re trying to fool. you lean your forearms on the rail, looking out onto the desolate street. the creak of the door tracks makes you snap your neck to look behind you.
“what’s wrong? not in the mood to speak now?” matt’s voice taunts you, stepping out into the small space himself.
he has on a black fleece jacket now, unzipped and faded from its wear. he twirls the drawstrings at the hoodie around his fingers, flashing his chunky silver rings as he stands beside you, copying your stance of leaning over.
“if i do, are you gonna shut me up with another kiss?” you mock. matt exhales through his nose, and from the corner of your eyes you see his teeth flash.
“if that’s what you want,” his voice is more croaky, dragged out, and he nudges your shoulder, making you look at him for a split second before you stare back at the sidewalk in the distance.
“god, you’re such an asshole.” you still don’t look at him when you say your thoughts aloud. you hear his voice shake with agreeance. a noise in his throat that’s not really a sound, not really a hum. agreeing without verbalizing it, like he’s swallowing back what he actually wants to say.
“yeah. i know.” he agrees. you pause in the quiet for a moment.
“so, what’s wrong?” matt asks again, more convincingly.
“don’t ask me like you care.” you shake your head, rubbing your eyes tiredly.
"i may not like you, but i'm not heartless."
you drop your face into your palm, hanging off the edge a little and turning toward him, head resting in your hand comfortably. it squishes your face a little, forcing a pouty look on your face. you choke a fake laugh out, like a laugh at him. not with him.
“could have fooled me.” you murmur.
you feel his body shift completely, and his arm brushes yours as he moves. he’s trying to find your eyes with his.
“y/n,” he hopes you’ll look at him.
“am i really that terrible in your eyes?” his voice, for the first time tonight, softens. you give in, and you get sucked into his stare. his eyes are more gentle, and as saturated and bright blue as they would be in the sunlight.
you swallow hard. your chests are centimeters apart, again. it’s like a fever dream. dispassionately, you reply.
“if you just dropped the tough act, i would feel a lot better right now.” your body language, your volume, your tone. it’s also gentle. a blend between exhaustion and matching his energy.
“what do you think i’m trying to do?” he retorts without doubt.
“you’re trying to hate me a little less, for the sake of everyone else.” you answer his hypothetical question with your raw, unprompted opinion.
“i sure as hell don’t hate you. i don’t think anyone could.”
refusing to let go of your established dynamic, you toy with the fact he’s torn down some bricks on his emotional wall. you fake gasp, pulling a hand to your heart and appear shocked.
“matthew bernard sturniolo? being nice to me?” you express with as much enthusiasm as you can muster up, and matt tucks his bottom lip under his top teeth, nodding along with your little show.
"this is a one-time thing. don't let me being nice to you get to that pretty head of yours." he presses his palm into your face gently as if he’s physically trying to wipe the look off your face, and you wave his hand away with a chuckle.
you both sigh in sync. you hear his words, but you don’t give them enough time to settle.
“your face is freezing. i think we should head back inside.” matt nods toward the sliding door. there’s a slight hesitance in your desire to go back inside, but you follow his lead.
he pulls the door open, not really giving you a choice, but deep down you’re grateful. he steps behind your body to let you in first, fingers dancing slightly on your upper arm and you talk as you brush his body to walk back into the house.
“for someone so cold hearted, i’m surprised you have really warm hands,” the homeliness of the living room hugs your shivering body, and you’re shadowed by his presence behind you.
the glass squeaks as it closes, and matt doesn’t part from your body yet. the music is still tumultuous and making it hard to focus. matt is still hot on your heels, almost stumbling over the back of your feet as you walk.
his hands grab at your hips mindlessly to keep his own balance. where his left hand is planted, his index finger snakes through a loophole of your jenas, tugging your body into his own hip and connecting your sides, helping him completely arch over you from above. his mouth hovers over the curve of your ear, making hearing his next words impossible to misinterpret.
“not the only thing my hands are good for.”
matthew redirects his path in an instant after letting you go, maneuvering around your body but not before giving a courtesy tap to where your hip meets your ass. you watch him glide through the floor effortlessly, making a direct course to his bedroom again. he turns, seeing you standing exactly where he left you. his face twists into offense, expecting you to have followed.
you do.
a smirk tugs at his lip and he disappears behind the wall. by the time you reach his door again, it’s only open ajar. it’s dark, the blue hue of his desktop being the only subtle source of light. you push it open slightly, and matt is sat at the edge of his bed, stripped of his jacket. his legs are slightly manspread, emphasizing his thighs. he’s leaning back on the mattress with his palms. he wanders over your body with his eyes, and you close the door behind you without looking.
“you know we really could have made better use of that seven minutes.” his voice lowers an octave, seeping with an abnormal tone of integrity.
“what happened to not even making out?” you tuck your hands behind your back, taking a step closer, trying to appear above suspicion.
“never said i didn't wanna fuck you senseless.” he says breezily. you take a step closer.
“that’s why you willingly brought me to your room this time?”
“you willingly followed.” he speaks with confidence.
the angel on your shoulder is telling you to walk away. that he’s temptation and nothing more. the devil on your right is telling you that you’re not going home tonight.
“you know, not many women are impressed by seven minutes, matthew.” you take another step closer. you’re only inches away from him now. your knees could touch with a slight bend, and staring fiercely down at matt.
matt reaches forward and slips his thumbs into the loops of your jeans, pulling you forward so you’re standing right in between his thighs, chest at his eye level and your shins touching the mattress.
“after seven minutes you'll be begging me to stop, sweetheart."
your breath hitches in your throat, and his eyes are fixated on your lips. he tugs you forward to straddle his waist, and you climb onto his lap effortlessly. he instantly brings warmth to the lower half of your body, and you feel it radiating from his crotch.
you lean forward, to tempt when he’s going to meet your lips, and he parts his mouth slightly, slowly, looking into your eyes before leaning up and colliding.
you both flutter your eyes closed and move with each other’s mouths. the feeling making contact runs through your entire body and makes your skin shiver. you need more, and your body lets him know before your words can. you rock into his lap rhythmically, and his large, warm hands engulf your ass. he squeezes hard, even through denim. he forces you chest to chest while continuing to wrap your lips up with his own.
you dig your nails into his shoulders, and the kiss becomes faster, more sloppy and wet. he pulls away, strands of saliva parting the kiss and exhales both escaping your mouths. you strip your shirt off and matt's hands search your ribcage.
he grips your body like he’s never going to touch a woman again in his life, rubbing up and down your sides. his fingers slip under your bra and without unhooking it, lifts it over your head, messing up your hair carelessly and tossing it to the side. his rushed movements make it seem like he’s on another time restriction, but now, it’s warranted. and on his terms.
“jesus,” he chokes out, he looks like he’s going to drool over your chest. he’s desperate.
“i really fucking wish i could resist you right now.” he bites at your shoulder, like he’s reading your thoughts.
the war between good and evil having a tug of war in your mind. he’s just verbalizing how you feel.
“you know what they say about temptation,” you begin, to ease you both.
“the best way to beat it is to give in.” matt finishes.
your own hands move under his top and pull it over his head. he helps you remove it, both of your hands intertwining and colliding trying to make the process easy, but it’s a mess. a hot, flustered mess. his skin is so pale even in the dark. your nails trace over the tattoos that inch over his shoulder blade with awe.
matts lips attach to your chest, planting kisses from your throat to the hill of your breast. you grasp at his upper arm before he takes your tit in his mouth, sucking harshly. he lets out a small moan, and you throw your head back with a gasp when he releases, leaving the area around your nipple red and glossy.
matts lips are already plump and the blood rushing to his face makes a pink tint flush his cheeks. he rolls his hips up, eyes flickering down to watch how your body moves on him. his hard dick creates friction on your throbbing heat, and you shift so you can feel him perfectly on your clothed pussy. you both need more.
his hands crawl to the front of your pants, and you lean back on his lap to give him full access. he pops the button off and pulls the zipper down carefully, revealing the dainty nature of your thin panty line. his index finger traces the fabric of the elastic band, making your skin tingle. he hooks his finger underneath, pulling it toward him then letting it snap back.
you refuse to give him the satisfaction of taking full control, even though that’s what he wants. without giving him another chance to touch you, you slide off his thighs and kneel in between him. you can hear him suck a breath in with the look up you give him. you grip the top of his knees, aligning yourself with his dick.
you tug at the fabric of his cargo pants, and he thrusts his hips forward to help them drop off his waist. his cock is pressed so hard against his boxers, screaming to be released.
you can see the wet patch seeping through his undergarments, changing the color of them. his little happy trail is leading to a perfect view. matt pulls down his boxers, and when his cock springs free, your eyes burn with the thought of it being inside you.
he’s clean shaven, and his dick is perfectly thick, but long. his tip is glistening, swollen and a blush pink. his demeanor radiates that it’s something he’s proud of. matt rubs his lips together with a carnal craving, taking his own hand to stroke himself a few times as you brush your hair back from your face and steady yourself on your knees.
“that mouth of yours good for anything other than arguing?” he chaffs. holding his cock by the base in his own grip, he slaps it onto your lips, playing with your face teasingly.
“i don’t know, ask your brother.” you push back, because even though you know you’re both the most vulnerable you can possibly be around each other, the torment will never cease.
matt twitches his jaw with envy, despite it being a clear joke. you chuckle, making a pout onto the head of his dick, but not sucking and not taking him in yet. you accumulate saliva in your cheeks, letting a heavy strand of saliva drip onto his tip, making him go still.
“you’re lucky that felt good.” he swallows his words quickly. the half moan escaping his lips sounds almost remorseful, like he knows you’re about to make him repent for what he just uttered.
you hang your tongue out flat and move your head to start at his base. his hand moves away and you’re given access to lick up his length, swirling at the top and sucking like you would a lollipop.
matt breathes out like he’s letting the weight of the world escape, and throws his head back hopelessly. he completely buckles the second you take him down your throat, puffing your cheeks and going down on him.
you hum feeling him fill your mouth, and not to your surprise, he’s making it difficult. he jolts upward into your throat and it makes you gag, both of your movements shocking each other’s senses. matt’s eyes are to the ceiling, mouth slung open and scratchy groans breaking free with pleasure. your eyes are watering, but you’re far too invested to let yourself give up.
it’s almost like he can sense his dick is becoming overwhelming, because the second you feel yourself needing to grasp for air, his grabs the top of your head, pulling you off of him.
you catch your breath with relief, and matt grabs your jaw to pull you up by your face. he leans down to meet you in the middle, crashing your lips together. he kisses you slowly, mouth moving once or twice before he parts, leaving you wiping your face with the back of your palm.
“as much as i’d love for you to finish, i need you on the bed.” he orders, and you crawl over him to situate yourself at the head of the bed, where his pillows lay. you rest on your back, the comfort of his quilt feeling like an embrace.
matt turns in his spot and begins to crawl over you, grabbing your jeans without a second thought and yanking them off your lower half, twisting and tugging at the ankles to finally get them off. he almost seems irritated at your attire, and you can’t help but laugh.
matt rolls his eyes, and your amusement quickly fades when he grabs your ankles, spreading your legs apart for his satisfaction.
he holds eye contact with you as he lowers his face to your foot, raising your right leg up sensually. he places your heel on his shoulder, kissing that little bone that protrudes from your ankle, then kissing your shin, then kissing the crease of your knee, then following up until he kisses the inside of your thigh. your breathing is gentle but fast, body rolling at every touch and every second he spends on your skin. he arches down in between your heat, letting your leg curve around the back of his neck
“matt, do something, anything.” you beg, tensing your core and chewing the inside of your cheek.
he breathes a laugh against you, finally burying his face in your cunt, drinking you up with fervor. his tongue laps across your entrance, stabs into your pussy, circles your clit. he sucks and nibbles, intently absorbing every beautiful pained sound you make. it’s hardly five minutes before your whole body tenses and your legs begin to tremble.
you feel his teeth scrape lightly, but you know that’s him being a smartass, because you begged for ‘anything’ and it makes you twitch. you tug his head lightly with warning and a ‘tsk’ sound escaping. matt’s tongue thrusts into you as he keeps your panties pulled to the side with two fingers, and he licks through your folds in intervals. flickering his tongue side to side he pulls your hood up with his free hands thumb, fixating on your clit when he dances over the little ball with the very tip of his tongue.
he shakes his head to create more friction and you’re huffing out exasperated breaths. his hair tickles your lower stomach and his light stubble burns in the best possible way on your inner thighs. your core tightens and tightens and your stomach screams internally. you feel yourself pushing toward the ceiling which forces you deeper into matt’s face and he groans lowly.
matt detaches, all of your build up disappearing instantly. he blows air through tight lips, trying not to make it seem like he needs it.
“fuck,” you sigh, wiping your forhead that’s beading with sweat.
“you really are a tease.” you finish, rubbing your eyes that are sore from rolling back into your head. matt titters at your comment,
“y’thought i’d take it easy on you?” matt shuffles closer and closer, his hand hung in front of your pussy, tips of his fingers hovering over your entrance.
you feel his fingertips wave against you, like the action you give when you strum a guitar, but so featherlight it feels like air.
“time’s ticking.” you taunt. matt holds eye contact with you, almost to distract you from the sharp movement he’s about to make. his middle finger inches onto your entrance, pushing into you with one swift movement. you grab the bedsheets underneath you, knotting them in your fist.
“smart fucking mouth,” matt reaches up with the hand that’s not inside you and shoves it into your mouth, making you rattle out a sound that you wouldn’t be able to replicate if you tried.
he hooks his thumb around your chin, treating his hand like a gag. gripping your lower jaw tight, your tongue swirls around his fingers, tasting his skin and sweat mixing. he drags that hand down to secure on the base of your neck, and you grab at his wrist.
he pulls you open with his thumb, pushing his long ring finger in next. his movements are slow, being sure your body is taking to his touch. when he’s knuckle deep inside of you, he picks up the pace of fucking two fingers in and out of your soaked core.
the squelching and anguished sound of your cunt and his fingers fighting bounce off the walls, intertwining with the moans you’re trying to turn into breaths. your stomach tightens and tightens, your back arching trying to let his fingers hit every wall inside you.
he pulls away, and you cry out with complaint. matt shifts his body so he’s sitting up straight, and he stares at the juices that saturate his fingers.
matt slides them in his mouth and sucks them clean with a little pop sound when he finally stops. you’re staring at him with your clit throbbing, and the sight alone makes you demand more.
“you taste like heaven.” he adores. you want to let the moment linger but you’re dripping and in dire need to be touched, filled, something.
“matt, please. please finish what you start,” you huff, chest rising and falling laboriously.
“begging is a good look on you.” he grins mischievously, knowing the longer he leaves you in the state you’re in, the more you crave.
matt curves over to reach for his bedside drawer, and your eyes strain to follow. a small clear bottle appear in his hands and it’s a gel consistency lube, unopened, and tucked in his palm a gold, shiny metallic square.
he cracks the seal with his teeth and spits out the tab, flicking the plastic bottle open and letting it pour a mess between your legs. it’s so cold, like a sharp, ice cold. it makes you squirm, and matt pins your thighs down the second he tosses the bottle elsewhere.
like a magic trick, making the condom packet appear again he tears it open, the corner coming off but not giving him access to it fully. he looks like he’s cursing himself in his head for not tearing it open in one swift movement, but you’re too preoccupied to even tease him about it now. finally shuffling it out with one hand while he strokes his cock with the other.
you’re watching with thinning patience, but fuck, he just looks so good. the veins in his arm prominent as he shakes his length in his grip, lifting it up before rolling the rubber on. it makes a secure snap sound at his base, and matt inches close to you again, boner centimeters away from your pussy.
hovering over you, one of his hands plants beside your head. he leans down, taking your lips into his own with a kiss. his right hand is holding his cock at your entrance, sliding up and down your soaked folds.
breaking the kiss and leaning his forehead down onto yours, sticky and warm, he speaks.
“you know i don’t hate you, right?” he asks. you look up at him with a cautious, almost vacant stare and nod in agreement.
“good, because i’m gonna fuck you like i do.”
with that, his tip pushes in and stretches you out, letting a moan escape both of your lips. you wrap your arms around his back and squeeze at his skin, kneading his shoulder blades as he gets deeper.
“you feel so fucking good,” he growls into your ear, bitting and nipping at your neck, teeth scraping as he desperately fills you with a rough thrust, and your jaw hurts from hanging open, wider and wider when he pulls back and slams into you.
“oh fuck, FUCK,” you scream out, tearing at the skin on his back.
his chest is almost glued to yours and he bucks his hips in and out of you, shaking your entire body with his. his cock feels like he could hit your spine with how aggressively long he is, and it makes you twist your face with an anomaly of distressed pleasure.
“you need to tell me if it hurts, yeah?” he speaks into your neck, kissing there again sloppily.
“i can take it, i can take it,” you’re in a daze with your eyes shut tight, not even being able to form another sentence.
“i know you can, angel.” matt praises, looking down to watch himself fuck in and out of your cunt. he pins your hips down, using your body to help push himself up to he’s no longer nuzzled into your neck, and stops for a moment to realign.
when he’s got a perfect grip on your waist and his cock is resting warm inside you, he pulls back, teetering on the edge of escape but then sharply shoves himself back inside your cave. you scream out, and not even the music could drown you out at this point.
your hands flail above your head on the sheet, nails raking the headboard and you trying to bite the skin on your arm to muffle yourself. matt’s hand sharply snaps you back by belting a slap onto your thigh, and it sounds like a whip demanding your undivided attention.
“you’re gonna watch me fuck you, y/n.” he continues penetrating you with a deep, solid pace, and your eyes are on him.
“look away and i swear to god i’ll stop.” his thumbs are absolutely leaving bruises on your hip bones with the sheer pressure he’s driving into your skin.
you beg your own body to stay fixated on him, and you’re bouncing up down with the movements he’s making inside you. you feel your stomach buzz and ache, and matt’s hands dig more painfully into your hips, like he’s about to break a bone, but the pleasure outweighs the pain. by a long shot.
matt let’s out shuttering low moans, and half broken cusses through tight teeth. he doesn’t lose the pace at all, or seem fatigued. the passion he gives with each thrust is consistent, and it makes your body unravel. you can feel an orgasm trickle up through your core and you push your hips to the sky, forcing matt to follow where your body rolls.
“f-fuckin, so good. you take me so fucking well. you knew you would, huh?” he worships, and you’re on the cusp of yelling out that you’re about to cum when he twists his face, and throws his head back with a loud moan, fucking into you faster and faster.
when he slows down, the condom fills with his hot, thick cum. you feel it inside you, becoming a heavy sensation and mixing with your shaking legs. with one final sloppy thrust, you let your body relax.
he pulls off the condom, tossing it into the bin beside his desk, and you’re both wrecks. you wince at the marks he left on your hips, trying to shuffle up onto the pillow properly. matt drapes down beside you and swings an arm over your torso.
he presses a kiss to your temple, and it feels domestic, safe somehow. it feels sickeningly right, and the post orgasm clarity makes you gaze off with paranoia.
“hey matt,” you prompt, voice scratchy from the screams you’ve been letting out.
“mhm?” he circles your bruises with his thumb, both of you turning to look at each other.
“what does this make us now?” you’re half joking, half serious, needing to fill in the silence.
“god i liked it better when your mouth was choking on cock.” he speaks hazily, through a small obnoxious smile. it makes your stomach sink.
you shove his chest with annoyance, but he quickly wraps his arms around you fully, sliding his body half on top of yours again, his lower half still on his side of the bed but chest on yours. he makes you look at him.
“hey, i’m just fucking with you. remember, that’s what we do?” he eases you, giving a delicate kiss to your forehead.
you don’t react to his touch, having him still not answer your question. which you wish you could take back now.
“we can be,” matt thinks for a moment, kissing your bottom lip.
“two people,” he kisses your lips again, you don’t reciprocate, you need to hear him finish.
“who don’t necessarily like each other,” you laugh at his words, as he kisses the corner of your mouth.
“but fuck each other,” he kisses your cheekbone.
“and might end up taking a liking to one another.” he kisses where your jaw meets your ear, tracing wet kisses to your neck when he sucks lightly. you tug his hair and pull back to look him in the eyes.
“you know, we might need to fuck a few more times for me to consider that.” you counter.
matt’s eyes widen with intensity, and he’s flushed hot pink. your words alone relight a fire in his energy. he immediately trails down your body with his face, locking his stare. lips tickling your skin. he lowers toward your heat again.
“you got another seven minutes to spare?”
tag list: @letstripsturniolo (love of my life for helping me out) @floofparker @teampurpleforlife @kvtie444 @struniolos
hey girl! ok so i'm dying for a smutty chris fic where it's only masturbating, so the two of them are getting off by touching themselves but they're beside each other somehow you know? in my head it's seems like the hottest shit ever bc masturbating is so vulnerable and intimate alone and then adding in someone youre into doing the same is just so- UGH i'd love to see what you come up with bc your writing is AMAZING!!!! one could be caught and the other joins in, or it's a new thing they want to try, or this is their first time getting intimate together in general, etc HAVE FUNNN AND I HOPE THAT ALL MAKES SENSE <3
authors note: thank you for having faith in me to give this a go. i haven't written for my man in a hot second, please take it easy on me!
you and chris have always been close. his brothers are constantly making jokes about how you two should just get together already, and chris plays into it. he’s not shy around you, always flirtatious, protective, infatuated almost. anyone viewing your dynamic from the outside would think you’re already a couple.
matt and nick had decided to take a late night drive to the corner store, but they let you in the house so you could keep chris company. it is your second home, after all.
you wander around the dark house toward chris' room, assuming he's sleeping. it's not a rare occasion that you sneak into his room to fall asleep next to him.
this time however, as you approach his closed door, you hear his voice. it's muffled, but he's definitely not sleeping.
you quickly become cautious, pressing your ear against the cold wood frame. there's a list of things he could be doing that immediately flashes through your mind.
he's on the phone, he's watching a movie, or he's not alone at all. you're hoping it's not the third option. the thought makes you sick.
"ugh, sh-shit," chris' distinct but strangled voice breaks through the sound barrier as you listen intently.
you know it's probably wrong to be eavesdropping. it's definitely wrong. an invasion of privacy regardless of what is actually happening, but you can't bring yourself to pull away.
your heart sinks hearing a muffled moan on the other side. well what you assume is a moan. that's your cue to walk away, but before your feet can even lift off the ground, his projected voice rattles against the door again.
"fuck, y/n" he enunciates your name so clearly, but your brain doesn't register it. you convince yourself that you're hearing what you want to hear.
against your better judgement, you drape your hand on the door handle and brace yourself to twist it open. when you finally do, letting yourself in, you close it softly, stepping feather light into his bedroom and staying close to the door.
when you turn around, your breath hitches in your throat. chris is on his back on the bed, eyes are shut tight, neck strained back into his pillow and his right hand wrapped is around his cock.
he's jerking himself off with passion. his jaw is slacked open and his adam's apple is prominent with every swallow that passes.
"fuuuck, y/n, keep going" he whimpers out, and you wish you could be in his head in that moment. you're dying to know what fantasy is playing out while he moans your name.
you squeeze your thighs together at the sight, and have a feeling you could start drooling if you opened your mouth. you bite your bottom lip, trying to stay quiet, not sure whether you should leave or stay.
you're too far gone, either way.
you're so lost in the sight of his grip around his throbbing tip that's glistening in pre-cum. he's rotating his wrist and putting all of his movement into his thick base, thumb dancing across his slit which makes his breath shudder, giving squeezes with each rub.
you inhale sharply against your will, exposing your presence. chris's eyes flutter open and he sits up suddenly, stopping his motions quickly.
"fuck" he spits, but his tone wasn't pleasant at all. not like those sweet sounds he was letting slip a moment ago. it was panicked. laced with worry.
you don't even give him a chance to react to seeing your figure. you're both in a trance.
"keep going." your voice is gentle.
"wh-what?" his tense shoulders visibly soften at your lack of a bad reaction.
"finish what you started, chris." you step further into the room, nearing his bed. he follows you with his eyes.
"th-this is not how i wanted you to find out," chris sounds out of breath when he speaks, following you with his eyes as you stroll closer to his mattress, kneeling on it, causing a ripple in his navy blue quilt.
“find out what?” you crawl onto the edge of the bed, holding eye contact with him.
you’re trying so hard to ignore the fact that he’s still slowly stroking himself, keeping himself firm. his bottom lip has a thin layer of saliva from where his tongue was rolled over it in focus.
“that i think of you like this” chris whimpers as his palm rolls over the head of his cock, keeping a teasing momentum as you settle yourself.
you lean back on your elbows, facing chris, legs arched as you hike them onto the bed fully and your feet almost touching his.
“that you think of me when you touch yourself?” you reach for the hem of your sweatpants, inching them down your waist so they're sat just below your bellybutton.
chris is giving an intense stare, his long wavy hair sweat drenched and a mess on his forehead. his plain black tee is scrunched up past his abdomen, clearing the view of his snail trail and prominent hip bones. his calvin klien boxers are tossed to the floor, grey sweat pants piled over them.
"i think about you all the time" he manages to respond, his voice barely above a whisper. he sounds so enamoured, entranced in his own thoughts and undressing you with his eyes.
"is that so?" you smirk, knowing you'll never be able to let that sentence go.
he nods, slowing his strokes almost to a complete halt.
"ah-uh, don't stop" you grin, shuffling your pants down to your ankles, making chris's cheeks flush red.
your exposed grey panties have a dark patch growing, and chris is looking. he's making sure you know that he's looking. he's snapshotting it in his brain. his blue eyes are fixed on the thought on what's behind that fabric.
"hearing you say that is gonna make me-" he trembles.
"cum? you gonna cum, chris?" you have no idea what's possessed you to be so forward.
maybe it's seeing him so vulnerable, so exposed. knowing that you are what he's about to get off to. you have him wrapped around your finger.
"fuck, y/n. you have no idea what you're doing to me right now" he throws his head back and shuts his eyes tight. when he drops his head forward again, you've already stripped your lower half completely.
"i think it's pretty clear" you take in all the features of his thick cock, pussy trembling at the thought of it between your legs.
with that, your legs are parting as you hold your gaze and chris looks like he's about to pass out.
his mouth is hung open, he's licking his bottom lip again slowly, and he murmurs out a slow, groaned, "fuuuck" watching you dance two fingers down your body and tease your thighs, just gliding around the crease where your leg meets your hip.
"is this really happening?" chris asks, rubbing himself at a steady pace, small cocky grin growing as you tease him with your actions.
"do you want it to?" your hand stops on your body just before you reach your heat, making sure you're not about fuck up everything between you two, permanently.
"yes, please, yes" he begs, stroking faster as his eyes dilate and glue to your pussy that you have on full display for him. just for him.
“so pathetic” you grin, licentiously, and it almost makes chris ejaculate then and there.
"i haven't even started touching myself yet and you're a mess"
"oh fuck, keep talking" he whimpers, watching intensely as your index finger finally glides over your wet, ready clit. the way his words are so dire as he implore you to continue.
"do you imagine that's my hand when you fuck yourself, chris?" a sweetness in your tone that makes his stomach knot, contrasting the unseemly actions you're playing out.
"m-mouth" he splutters. you grin.
you let out a small, airy moan at your cold fingers circling over your throbbing pearl, and watching him is making your heart race faster.
"keep going. fuck your hand, chris" your moaning reply challenges him, breath overpowering any strength that your vocal chords are fighting against.
it's surreal, watching him pleasure himself at the thought, sound, sight of you. it's making you clench your core, heightening your feelings and arousal even more.
"this is so hot" the words fall from his mouth as he squeezes his cock hard, hard enough that he hisses through his teeth, like he’s trying to hold back. his eyes twitch into a squint.
"look at me" you moan through inserting a single finger into yourself, and chris exhales heavy.
"if i do i'm gonna fucking cum" he almost sounds annoyed in himself, that he won't get to enjoy you if he lets go first.
"and i'm gonna watch you do it" you smirk, sliding your finger in and out of yourself, the wet, squelching sounds bouncing off the walls.
a sticky, luminesce patch is puddling underneath you. it's mixed with the sound of chris pounding his fist around his cock.
"when did you get so fucking dirty, huh?" he chuckles, breathlessly.
"did you want me to stop?" you taunt. he shakes his head miserably.
"don't you dare" his eyes blink a few times, to keep himself aware. to keep them open and on you, even if it's about to push him over the edge.
chris brings his hand to his mouth, spitting in his palm aggressively before wrapping around himself again, and you gulp at the vision. he's actively trying to match your pace, intently gazing at the way you slide in and out, in and out, of your cunt.
"fuck" you exhale, switching to use all four of your fingers to rub faster, creating a violent friction across every sensitive part of your heat.
"you look so pretty, all spread out for me" chris's voice is hoarse and tired, a lazy smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth before he bites into his lower lip, hard, and rotates his wrist around his shaft.
you watch his stomach tense, a quick rise and fall of his skin as he tosses his head back and groans loudly.
"fuckin-sh-shit" he lets out, jaw tense. he rubs himself faster, loudly, forcefully.
"y/n, i can't hold- i can't" he sounds so needy when he groans your name, desperate to release.
you're biting the inside of your cheek, trying to contain your own orgasm to allow him to let go, so you can enjoy the show.
"fuck, y/n" he almost screams when he finally finishes, eyes shut so tight that deep wrinkles form across his face from the intensity.
you watch his lower stomach and your own thigh get painted by his warm cum.
"ch-chris, ahhhh fuck," you can't help but let out a euphoric porn-star moan as he finishes hard, and you stop edging yourself. focusing on your middle finger rapidly, passionately massaging your clit until you too, break.
you suck air through your teeth sharply before exhaling your moans, broken and jagged. a sultry laugh escapes your lips as chris watches in awe.
"holy shit" he breathes out. you can almost hear his swallow at the sudden silence filling his bedroom.
"h-hang on, let me" he suddenly worries, dragging himself off the bed to swiftly grab a clean bath towel he has hung behind his door.
you drop back onto his bed, arms artfully behind your head as you smile, watching him. when chris returns you, he's hovering over you.
his free hand presses into the mattress beside your head as he wipes your thigh clean, gently. he cleans himself himself off quickly, grinning like an idiot looking down at you.
you're in a stare off, lust still prominent in both of your glossy eyes. he flashes his teeth, chuckling through his nose.
"you were pretty quick to join in when you caught me, y'know" he puts you on the spot, scrunching up the towel and tossing it onto the floor.
"well you-" you start tracing the veins on his forearm with your nails.
"-were fantasising about me" you reply with raillery.
"that, i was doing" his eyebrows bounce in a 'you got me' way.
your hand grabs his wrist, tugging it toward you, implying that you want him closer. he leans in from above you, his eyes staring at your lips, craving.
"what else do you think about, chris?" you whisper, as he lowers his face closer, and closer to yours.
there's a hunger in the way his big hand engulfs the side of your face, your own fingers still in contact with his wrist, not wanting to let him go as he pulls you to him by your jaw.
you can smell his cologne, a mix with the sweat that glazes his body. oddly enough, you enjoy it. it's a musky, spicy intoxication that fills your senses.
inches away from your mouth, his plump, peachy lips graze your own. your noses touch and his face is so warm, still flushed.
✧ hockeyplayer!matt, badboy!matt, friends to lovers, possessive, making out, dom!matt, mutual pining
✧ summary: after seeing you with another guy, matt drags you home to prove exactly who you belong to.
✧ word count: 2k
✧ authors note: im not very good at the bad boy stuff so hopefully this is okay 😓 also i have so many hockey fics now omg help based off this request!
the locker room door swung open with a metallic clang.
matt walked through, alone, his movements stiff with frustration. he'd been out on the ice for over an hour after the rest of the team had already left, drilling shots into the net with a violence that made the pucks shudder against the backboard.
he was stripped down to his compression shorts, his gear left inside. the dim hallway lights caught on an angry, purple bruise blooming across his ribs and the fresh, split knuckles of his right hand. but it was the cut above his eyebrow, still beading with blood, that made your stomach tighten.
"you're still here?" he grunted, not looking at you as he yanked his gym bag from his locker.
"studying," you lied, snapping your book shut.
he finally glanced your way, a small smile on his lips. "right."
he slammed the locker door shut, the sound echoing in the empty corridor. he didn't head for the exit, but for the vending machine at the far end. you watched as he punched the buttons, then slammed his palm against the glass when the machine failed to cooperate. a soda can clattered down. he snatched it, cracking it open with his good hand.
"what happened to your face?" you asked, your voice quiet.
he took a long sip of the drink, his throat working. "fell."
you didn't believe him for a second. matt didn't fall. "you fell and cut your eyebrow and busted your knuckles?"
his head snapped toward you, rolling his eyes. "you gonna keep questioning me?”
"no, i just—"
"cmon, we gotta leave.” he started walking past you toward the exit, leaving you standing there.
you fell into step behind him, the silence thick and uncomfortable. the cold night air hit you as he pushed the main doors open. he was already at his truck, fumbling with the keys when you caught up.
"matt, wait."
he turned around, eyes full of tiredness but still reserving some warmth in it for you. "you gonna give me a lecture?"
"i was just worried," you said, the words barely audible.
he let out a small sigh. "don't be." the raw hurt in his eyes was startling. "i can handle myself."
he pulled the truck door open and got in. for a second, you thought he'd just wait there. then the passenger door clicked open from the inside. you climbed in, the air thick with unspoken tension.
he reversed out of the parking spot, knuckles white on the steering wheel.
the drive was silent, the engine's roar the only sound between you. when he pulled up to your dorm, he put the truck in park but kept the engine running.
"i’m sorry," he said, staring out the windshield.
"it’s okay."
"no, it's not," he disagreed, finally turning to look at you. in the dim dashboard light, his expression was complicated. it was a mix of sadness and something else, something that looked like shame. “i just... don’t like you seeing me like that."
he reached across the console, his thumb brushing your jawline, a surprisingly gentle touch. "you coming to the game friday?"
you nodded, unable to speak.
"good." a small of a smile touched his lips. "i’ll see you there."
that weekend you went to the bar with the team after their most recent game, and you found yourself in a conversation with owen.
owen from your study group, who'd shown up coincidentally, who you'd hugged when you saw him, who you'd laughed with, touched his arm, leaned in close to hear over the music.
and when you'd looked up, matt was across the room, staring at you with dark eyes, jaw clenched, knuckles white around his beer bottle, looking like he wanted to break something.
specifically, looking like he wanted to break owen’s jaw.
you'd tried to ignore it, to keep talking, but the weight of his gaze was suffocating.
he'd barely spoken to you the rest of the night. just watched. waited. eyes following you everywhere.
now you're back at his apartment. he'd insisted on driving you home, even though you'd only had two drinks. the drive was mostly silent, but when he did speak his voice came out rough and clipped, not meeting your eyes.
the door barely closes before he speaks.
"who was that?" he asks, voice low, dangerous, and you freeze, confused, your coat halfway off.
"owen?" you say, turning to face him. "matt, you know owen. i've told you about him. he's just a friend."
matt laughs, and there's something mocking in his tone, something sharp and possessive that makes your stomach flip. "just a friend who makes you laugh like that. who you touch. who you look at like that.”
"you and i aren’t together," you say, and it comes out sharper than you mean it, confused and hurt. "you don't get to be jealous, matt. you don't get to—"
"i know," he snarls, and then he's crossing the room, crowding you against the wall, hands braced on either side of your head, breathing hard. "i know i don't get to be. i know i have no right. but i am. i'm fucking jealous. i'm insanely jealous. watching you with him, laughing at him, touching him,"
he turns away off, jaw clenching, eyes dark, and you stare up at him, heart hammering.
"why?" you whisper, and your voice shakes. "why do you care?"
"because i want you," he says, and it's desperate, his voice coming out of him like it hurts. "because i've wanted you for two fucking years. because every time i see you with someone else i want to put my fist through a wall. because you're mine, even if you don't know it yet. even if i've been too fucking scared to tell you."
your breath catches. "matt,"
"you don't have to—" he starts, pulling back, shame flickering across his face. "fuck. i should go. i'm sorry. i shouldn't have—"
"no," you say, and your hand finds his chest, stopping him. "no, don't…don't apologize. don't go."
he freezes, staring down at you, chest heaving, and you see the moment he breaks.
"christ," he groans, and then his mouth is on yours, hard and demanding, his hands dropping to your waist, gripping tight, lifting you easily against the wall.
you wrap your legs around him, whimpering into his mouth, and he groans, grinding against you, thick and hard even through his jeans.
"you're mine," he breathes against your lips, ragged, desperate. "i'm done pretending. done watching. done letting other people touch you like that."
"matt," you gasp, and he carries you to his bedroom, tossing you onto the mattress, standing over you with dark, hungry eyes.
"take your clothes off," he commands, and you obey, shaking, peeling off your shirt, your jeans, until you're in just your underwear, exposed, vulnerable.
he stares at you for a long moment, jaw working, and then he's on you, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, the other sliding down your body, rough, claiming.
"god," he murmurs against your neck, teeth grazing your pulse. "two years of wanting you. of dreaming about this. making you mine."
"please," you whimper, arching into his touch, and he laughs, low and dark, sliding his hand into your panties, finding you soaked.
"fuck," he groans. "you're dripping. is this for me? only i can make you wet like this huh, sweetheart?"
you gasp, desperate, grinding against his hand. "only you. always you. wanted you for so long."
"that's what i thought," he growls, his voice thick with satisfaction. he pulls his hand away from you, making you whine at the loss, and you're about to protest when he suddenly shifts, lifting you effortlessly from the wall.
"what—" you start, but he cuts you off with a bruising kiss as he carries you. your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he walks, his hands gripping your ass, holding you tight.
he drops you onto the couch in his living room, and you bounce slightly, looking up at him with wide eyes. the streetlights outside bounce off the sharp angles of his face, giving you a rough idea on his expression in the mostly dark room.
"been thinking about this for so long," he says, his voice husky as he kneels in front of the couch. "thinking about how you'd taste. how you'd sound when i make you come."
his hands grip your thighs, spreading them wide, and you shudder, feeling exposed but also so turned on. his eyes darken as he looks at you, at the wet spot that's growing by the second.
"so fucking beautiful," he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss against your inner thigh, then another, higher up. you shiver, your hands tangling in his hair as he moves closer.
"please," you whimper, arching your hips. "matt, please."
he lets out a chuckle that vibrates against your skin. "patience, sweetheart. i'm going to take my time with you. make you forget all about that fucker owen."
finally, his mouth is on you, through the thin fabric of your panties at first, teasing, tasting. you gasp, your hips bucking against his face, and he groans, his hands gripping you tighter, holding you in place.
"so eager," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to hook his fingers into your waistband. he slides them down your legs slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, and then he's back between your thighs, his breath hot against your bare skin.
"fuck," he groans, his eyes closing for a moment as he just looks at you. "perfect. you're fucking perfect."
and then his mouth is on you, and you cry out, your back arching off the couch as his tongue finds your clit. he's relentless, eating you out like he's starving for you, like he's been waiting for this moment for years.
"matt," you gasp, your hands tightening in his hair. "oh god, matt."
he hums against you, the vibration furthering your pleasure, and you can feel yourself getting closer, your legs starting to shake.
"that's it, sweetheart," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to speak. "come for me. i want it. give it to me."
his words are enough to push you over the edge, and you cry out as your orgasm hits. he laps up everything you give him, his tongue working you through until you're gone, panting against the couch cushions.
"so fucking sweet," he groans, kissing his way back up your body until he's hovering over you. "could do that all night."
you look up at him, your eyes hazy with pleasure, and you can see the raw hunger in his gaze. he's still fully clothed, his cock straining against his jeans, and you reach down to palm him through the fabric.
"matt," you whisper. "i want you. please."
he groans, his eyes closing for a moment as he thrusts against your hand. "fuck, don't say that unless you mean it."
"i mean it," you say, your voice firm. "i want you. all of you."
that's all he needs. he's fumbling with his jeans, shoving them down along with his boxers, and then he's back over you, his cock thick and hard against your thigh.
"are you sure?" he asks, his voice softer now, a flicker of concern showing through the haze of jealousy and lust.
"please" you say, reaching up to cup his face.
he smiles, and then he's kissing you, deep and slow, as he positions himself at your entrance.
"ready?" he murmurs against your lips.
you nod and then he's pushing into you, slow and steady, stretching you, filling you completely.
you both groan as he bottoms out, and he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust, his forehead resting against yours.
"fuck," he breathes. "you feel so good. so fucking tight."
you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he takes that as his cue to start moving, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in, setting a rhythm.
"mine," he growls, his pace quickening. "you're mine, you hear me? no one else gets to have you like this. no one else gets to see you like this."
you gasp, your nails digging into his back.
he groans, his hips snapping faster, harder, driving into you with a desperate urgency. the couch is creaking beneath you, the sound blending in with your moans, with the slap of skin against skin.
"look at me," he commands, and you force your eyes open, meeting his dark, intense gaze. "want to see you when you come. want to watch you fall apart for me."
your walls clench around him, and he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release.
"who do you belong to?" he asks, snapping his hips harder, faster, his jealousy fueling him. "say it."
"you," you gasp, tears streaming down your face. "you, matt, only you."
"that's right," he groans, reaching around to find your clit, circling rough and perfect. "only me. gonna fill you up. make sure everyone knows."
"please," you beg. "please, matt,"
"fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants, and then he's burying his face in your neck as he comes, hot and thick inside you, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.
you lie there for a long moment, panting, tangled together on his couch.
"matt," you whisper, your voice shaky.
"shh," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your spine, your shoulder, your jaw.
"mine," he mumbles, soft now, satisfied. "my girl."
summary: your best friend (matt) finds you watching edits of him and thinks maybe the two of you should have a talk about this
warnings: language, smut, praise kink, hand kink, communication, verbal consent, finger sucking, soft dom!matt, oral (f!recieving), grinding, porn with feelings, reassurance, pet names (baby, angel, sweetheart, pretty girl), and angst. mdni
a/n: tbh for my first try writng smut I’m actually really proud of this lol
Before you were their friend, you were a fan. You knew about the edits, the fanfic, the places on the internet where no one would reasonably think one of their friends would be.
What kind of ‘friend’ watches that kind of edit? What kind of ‘friend’ reads smut? A perverted one. Of that, you were certain.
You knew it was messed up to lay in the bed of their guest room, knuckles between your teeth, watching an edit with the sound so low you can barely hear the audio. You knew the way your stomach flipped was something to be embarrassed of... but they didn’t have to know.
There was no reason you couldn’t ‘accidentally stumble across’ a few edits, like them from your secret fan account, and move along with your life. There was no reason you couldn’t hang out with them like nothing was out of the ordinary. Like you didn’t have the most massive, embarrassing crush on one of your best friends.
Of course, you may have made a mistake when Nick asked you your thoughts on making another “reacting to edits” video and you immediately told him you could ‘find’ some for them. It might have also been a mistake to send Nick the most out of pocket, absolutely diabolical edits you had in your collection. In your defense, it made great content.
The real problem came when fans noticed the way you blushed slightly during filming. As usual, the fans decided to take things way too far, coming up with all these theories about how you were “hardcore crushing on Matt” and “already had these edits saved.”
Fuck, they were observant.
Regardless, it hadn’t mattered too much to any of you. People were always going to speculate, and most of the time you honestly found it funny.
Which leads you to now. You phone face down on the bed, your eyes wide and face a shameful shade of red as Matt stands in front of you. He had knocked, but hadn’t given much thought to the fact that you could have been changing or something. He had just turned the knob and cracked the door slightly, causing your phone to flip a little too quickly.
He raised an eyebrow at your flustered state.
“Didn’t mean to… interrupt anything,” he said, fighting the small smirk that was pulling at his mouth. “Nick and Chris wanted us to know that they’re gonna be a couple more hours at the party, but they wanna know if they should grab us something for dinner.”
You laugh nervously, internally kicking yourself since he hadn’t made any sort of joke.
“I, uh— Yeah… Or, I mean— No, that’s okay. Tell them I’m making dinner. They don’t have to worry about it.”
Pull yourself together, stupid bitch.
He only grinned softly.
“That’s sweet of you,” he said, coming to stand at the side of your bed. “You sure you’re not too busy sexting whoever the fuck you’re talking to?”
Your brows furrowed and your mouth twisted slightly.
“What? Ew, no, I’m not…” you sat up, pushing your hair out of your face. “It’s not like that. Like, at all. I’m not talking to anyone.”
“Oh yeah? What were you doing then?”
God, his stupid smirk was intoxicating.
“I’m not… doing anything.”
You really gotta learn to lie better.
“Hey, nothin’ to be ashamed of, sweetheart. Whoever you’re texting, that’s your business.”
Fuck him and his ridiculous fucking pet name that made your brain buzz.
“Matt, I’m not texting anyone.” Your voice comes out slightly frustrated, more insistent than before.
“Okay, alright… so what? You were watching edits on your secret account or something?” he laughs, clearly not taking the idea seriously.
Your face burns red. You should laugh, too. You should shake your head or roll your eyes or tell him it came up on its own. Something. Anything.
But instead, you just sit there, a deep shade of embarrassment creeping up your neck and into your face, blooming crimson.
His smile fades as he sees your expression.
“Lemme see.”
Your eyes dart to the side, but for some godforsaken reason, you hold out your phone to him. He takes it, fingers brushing yours as he notices the slight tremble in them.
An anxious feeling starts to build in your chest. He’s gonna hate you. He’ll tell his brothers. They’re all gonna hate you. Your heart pounds violently against your sternum.
“What’s your password, baby?”
You almost cried at the nickname. You felt shame well up behind your eyes, threatening tears.
Don’t you fucking dare cry. You can still play this off if you pull it together.
Still, though, you lifted your hand when he turned the phone around. You typed in the password like writing your last will and testament.
The minute the phone opened, you couldn’t help a small laugh escaping you at the ludicrous audio. Especially when he smirked and turned it up.
What an asshole.
You watched his eyes change, widening slightly at the mix of the suggestive clips with the downright lewd audio.
He chuckled at the edit, noticing the fact that you had already liked it. You felt like such a pervert.
“I think this one’s worse the ones you showed us last week. Something you wanna tell me?”
Your eyes watered again, wide and terrified as you shook your head.
“Hey, come on. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
You let out a shaky laugh.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m…” your voice trails off.
“{y/n}, no. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. I’m not mad, okay? You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
You wanted to believe him… god, you did. But the heat in your face and lump in your throat made it nearly impossible.
You were trying to form a response, some tragic attempt to save your dignity, but then you felt a warm hand cupping your jaw, tilting your face up.
“Will you look at me, please?” his voice was tender but raw.
You meet his eyes, your jaw tightening as humiliation twisted into anger.
“Look, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry—”
“I’m fine, Matt,” you snap, harsher than you would have liked to. “I’m not fucking crying.”
“{y/n}, I didn’t—”
“Oh my god. Fuck off, will you?” His hand retreats as you pull away. “I’m not a child, and I’m not some girl who’s obsessed with you, alright?”
His eyes darken at your tone. This time, his hand comes up more firmly, your face held between his finger and thumb.
“You wanna try that again?”
Your face burns hotter, the gentleness in his voice still lingering, but no longer without an edge you had only heard from him vaguely with his brothers.
“You’re not gonna snap at me just because you’re embarrassed. How about you fucking talk to me instead of assuming shit, alright?”
That was all it took. Your lip quivers and tears spill out of your eyes, slipping quickly down your cheeks. You sniffle, trying to blubber out an apology before he stops you.
“I don’t want a ‘sorry,’ I want you to be honest about what you’re feeling.”
“I-I…”
“Say ‘Matt, I’m embarrassed.’ You can do it, honey, I know you can.”
You whimper slightly, utterly humiliated.
“Matt, I’m embarrassed…”
He releases your face, his hand moving to slide his fingers through your hair.
“I know, baby,” he coos, his thumb wiping away a tear. “I’m proud of you for telling me.”
God, this is the most shameful moment of your life, and the warmth between your legs only makes it worse.
He crouches down, meeting your eyes again and guiding your hand to his chest.
“Breathe with me.”
He guides you through a few slow breaths, your body starting to regulate itself.
“Good girl…”
Your thighs press together at that. God, what the fuck was wrong with you? You swallow hard, trying to get ahold of yourself yet again.
His eyes flicker down for a fraction of a second, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Talk to me,” he says casually, as if every part of this was normal.
“I don’t know what came over me. I just… fuck, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I was embarrassed and I don’t even know why.”
That part was a lie and you both knew it, but he said nothing, waiting for you to keep talking.
“I was worried you’d… think I have some kind of crush on you or something, and I just—”
“I know, baby.” He brings your hand up from his chest to his face, pressing his cheek into your palm. You feel the scruff of his stubble as he turns his head just enough to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist, his eyes never leaving yours.
You sniffle, your face still warm as your brain struggles to form a next thought, caught up entirely in the action.
“Matt…”
“You’re allowed to have a crush on me, baby.”
Your face burns even hotter, and you force out a nervous laugh.
“Don’t… say things like that, Matt, that’s not fair.”
His thumb glides over your knuckles, his eyes never leaving your face.
“How is that not fair?” He asks softly, his voice sounding lighter now, almost playful.
You turn back to see the grin on his face, and you can’t help the shy smile that appears on your own.
“Fuck you…” you mumble.
“Yeah, you would, wouldn’t you?”
You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. His eyes sparkled in a way that made your chest ache, the sight almost unbearable.
God, you loved that fucking smirk.
“So you like me, huh? For how long?”
You wanted to bury your face in his chest, especially when he sat up and leaned closer.
“Come on, baby. Use your words.”
The blush you had worked so hard to get rid of came back in an instant.
“Matt…” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands, your thighs pressed tightly together.
His eyes softened, his hands coming up to gently pry yours away from your face.
“Look, I like you, too, alright? Talk to me.”
Your eyes shot up to meet his, searching his every expression for some hint of a joke or a lie.
“You do?”
“So you do like me…”
You smack his chest and he laughs, catching your hands.
“I’ll have you know,” he tilts his head teasingly, “that I actually do happen to like you, too, so quit being a baby about it and fess up.”
You give up on your useless attempts to suppress a smile. You laugh softly, and he laughs, too, climbing up onto the bed and sitting beside you.
“I knew it!”
“Okay, okay! Fucking… fine. Yes, I like you. There. Happy now, asshole?”
He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into a hug, practically tackling you onto the bed before getting up.
“Since when?”
“Since… before we met?” You admit quietly. “Obviously I knew who you were, and… I mean, obviously I was already kinda a fan.”
“Oh, so you were a Matt girl, huh?”
You rolled your eyes playfully.
“Actually, I started out as a Chris girl, thank you very much.”
He raises an eyebrow, amusement and jealousy swirling in his eyes as he tries to figure out if you’re joking or not, but you give nothing away.
“You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?”
You chuckle, shoving his shoulder slightly as he leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours in a way that feels more childish than tender.
Your hand finds his shoulder and you blush as his eyes flicker down to your lips.
“Matt…”
“What, you’re about to tell me not to ruin the friendship?”
You’re silent for a moment. You know you should pause. You know what getting involved with him could mean for your friendship with him and his brothers. You know what it could mean for your career.
You also know how the heat radiating off his body feels, and how his hands feel around your waist.
“Matt…”
He doesn’t push closer, his eyes watching your expression for any discomfort.
“Is this… okay?” His voice is softer, now.
All you can manage is a nod, your gaze softening.
“Can I…” the faintest blush appears on his cheeks, as if he’s suddenly shy about the circumstances.
“Can I kiss you?”
Your smile widens, the crinkles around your eyes showing.
“Yes… please.”
His brows knit together, and he looks cocky and broken all at once. “Please?”
You nod, knowing in any other moment you would have been embarrassed by it.
“Please, Matt.”
He sighs, his eyes fluttering closed. He leaned closer, his nose brushing yours and his lips just centimeters from your mouth. His accent was evident, utterly Bostonian, lips brushing yours as he spoke.
“You don’t gotta beg, baby.”
He kissed you. His lips pressed against yours, steady and certain, and you felt the tension in your body melt.
When he finally pulled away, there was a smile still lingering on his face.
“You wanna show me what you were watching again, sweetheart?”
“Not really,” you laugh softly, blushing.
“Aw, come on, baby. I’m just curious…”
You sigh, rolling your eyes playfully as you pull up the video again. He stands and runs a hand through your hair, keeping the screen in front of your face when you try to turn in towards him.
“I changed my mind,” he says softly. “You watch the screen while I watch your pretty face, mkay?”
You nod and let the video play. It makes your face turn red, but you swipe to the next one, knowing it could be just as filthy.
You blush harder and bite your lip, and Matt’s hand moves to cup your cheek. You release your bottom lip from your teeth, and nod thumb moves to glide across it, so spreading your spit like a gloss.
“Atta girl, baby… Just keep those pretty eyes on the screen. Such a dirty fucking mind, huh?”
You whine and nod, brows knit.
“Mhm…”
You’re not even really paying attention to the edits anymore, instead set on getting the ache between your legs to subside.
“You want something to suck on, angel?”
Your eyes widen slightly and snap up to him, a hint of worry in your expression. As hot as Matt was, sucking dick had never really been your thing. Typically, you kinda hated it.
“I-I, um…”
“Woah, hey, no big deal. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, baby. We can take things slow.”
Your face burned hot, but you were relieved he wasn’t asking for anything you weren’t ready for.
“You… Were you gonna ask me to…?” your voice trailed off.
“I was gonna ask how you’d feel about me putting my fingers in your mouth.”
A faint pink dust settles on his cheeks, and your eyes light up slightly.
“Oh, your fingers? I thought…” You stopped the train of thought. “Yes please, actually.”
“Are you sure? We don’t have to—”
“I want to,” you insist. “I don’t really like giving head, but as long as I’m not choking on your fingers, I’d… really like having them in my mouth.”
Your voice got quiet at the end, but you forced yourself to finish the thought.
He raised an eyebrow. “Head? {y/n}, I hope you know I’m not the kind of guy to ask for you to suck me off with at least a little foreplay, first.”
You laughed softly, despite knowing it wasn’t a joke. He leans down and presses a kiss between your eyes, his thumb returning to where it belonged on your lip.
“Open for me, sweetheart.”
You comply without a second thought. He pulls your bottom lip down and slides two fingers into your mouth. They trail back slowly, stopping when your throat threatens to close up and pulling back just an inch.
“Suck,” he murmured, his eyes dark and locked onto your mouth.
Once again, you do what he says. For a moment, you take a mental check of how your body feels, and realize that for the first time, your body feels truly at ease in this scenario. Your heart was beating steady, but you weren’t in fight or flight. You weren’t shaky or hazy, just warm and happy with your mouth filled. He wasn’t pushing in to watch you choke or focused solely on getting his cock into your mouth.
He was watching you warmly, his eyes soft and adoring, brows pinched as his other hand brushed your hair back.
“You’re so pretty f’me, angel.”
Your heart rate picked up slightly, a small smile tugging at your lips around his fingers. He wasn’t waiting for a show, wasn’t hoping you’d whine or moan like something out of a porno.
“You like this?”
You nodded, no longer minding the way your cheeks heated up.
“You better not keep looking at me like that,” he grinned softly. “I might start getting other ideas.”
You took your mouth off his fingers and he removed them, wiping the spit onto his jeans like it didn’t bother him.
“Ideas like what?” you smiled shyly, propping yourself up on your hands behind you.
His eyes trailed over you, burning with desire and caution all at once.
“You said you’re not interested in giving head, and that’s fine by me, but…” he rubs the back of his neck. “Was that action specific, or are you just wanting to take things slow in general?”
You smirked slightly, unable to help a small laugh.
“Are you asking to fuck me or something?”
“Would you… let me?”
His response came out quickly and made you raise your eyebrows. You couldn’t deny that you wanted him to. Actually, it was more than that. You didn’t just want him to fuck you.
You wanted Matt to make love to you. You wanted a slow descent, warm and gentle. You wanted tenderness and care and patience. You wanted to feel loved, even if the word would never leave your lips. You wanted him to hold you.
“I would,” you said softly, like it was a casual admission. “Only if you promised to be patient with me, though. It’s been a while, and I…I want it to be more than a quick fuck.”
His expression shifted into something tender and wild all at once as he crawled over you onto the bed, kissing up your jaw with a smirk on his lips.
“Yeah? You wanna be more than just my fucktoy for the night, angel?”
You blushed hard, not used to hearing him talk like that.
“M-Matt…”
“Relax, needy, I’m not interested in a one-night, either. I want you, okay? You’re my best friend, and I’m not fucking around with this one.”
His forehead met yours again, but this time it is tender, his hand finding your side.
“And between you and me, I’m not sure ‘girlfriend’ is enough, but it seems like a pretty good fucking place to start, if you’ll let me.”
Your eyes widened, the warmth in your chest spreading like a wildfire.
“You… want me to be your girlfriend.”
“For now,” he mumbled, eyes darting over your features. “Then maybe in a couple years you’ll let me put a ring on it?”
You blushed furiously and laughed, shaking your eyes in disbelief.
“Matt…”
“I mean it!”
“Save the crazy talk for after you’ve fucked me, okay?” He grinned at that.
“Why, so you can have something to blame it on besides the fact that you’re my best friend and I’m not losing you?”
You let out a shaky breath, your eyes closed.
“Hey, look at me.”
You opened your eyes and he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.
“Tell me you want it. Not just the sex. Tell me you want the late nights, and the laughing about nothing, and the arguing over stupid shit and making up for it later, and the dates, and the stupid fucking fans not minding their goddamn business.”
Your eyes softened and you open your mouthed to speak, but he started talking again.
“Tell me you want every fucking thing I have to offer you, even though it’s not much and some of it is shitty.”
You didn’t hesitate this time.
“Matt, I want it. I want all of it.”
He leaned down and kissed you deeply, more hungry than he had before. You hummed against his mouth as his tongue glided across your bottom lip and you let your jaw slack, letting his tongue in.
He kissed you senseless, until your hips were mindlessly grinding against his thigh.
“Fuck, baby, you need something?”
You nodded furiously, your hands trailing down to his belt buckle. He chuckled and caught your hands gently.
“You do know we still have a few hours before Nick and Chris get home, right? If that’s all you wanting, that’s fine, but if you’re okay with being patient for me…” His eyes trailed down to where your thighs were squeezing his.
Can I eat you out?” His voice came out husky, eyes dark as they found yours again.
Your breath hitched but you nodded.
“Words, baby,” he mumbled, his hand already sliding down to grip your thigh.
“Yes,” you practically breathed.
He kissed down your neck and along your collarbone before moving down and undoing your jeans.
“You tell me if you need to stop, okay? Any time, any reason, you just let me know.”
You nodded again but quickly remembered his words.
“I will.”
“Good girl,” he kissed your stomach where your shirt had hitched up just a sliver. He slid down your jeans, carefully pulling them all the way off before running his hands up your thighs.
He pressed a kiss to your clothed cunt and it made your hips squirm slightly. He chuckled, bringing his thumb up to tease you as he spoke.
“Sensitive, huh? You need it that bad?”
“Shut up…”
He smirked, looking a little smug.
“I’m sorry, who’s running this shit, baby?”
You smirked right back, giving a casual shrug.
“You’re the one who asked for this. It’s my pussy, remember?”
He grunted at the vulgar word dripping from your tongue like honey.
“As if I could fucking forget. You have any idea what you do to me, sweetheart?”
“Show me.”
He groaned, pressing his open mouth to your panties, his fingers slipping under the seems before he quickly tugged them off and discarded them.
He licked at your folds and sucker at your clit, spurred on by the small whimpers leaving your throat and the way your hips twitched.
“M-Matt…”
“You’re okay, baby. Just enjoy it. Don’t worry about sounding pretty for me, just let yourself feel it and cum when you need to. I could lay here all fucking night.”
You weren’t sure how long it actually was, though you were certain it was nowhere near the hours he had offered. You let your thighs squeeze and hips buck when they needed to, trying to focus on your breathing. You made some sounds, but most of your moans came out as sighs and gasps, instead.
After a few minutes, you felt the tightness in your lower stomach, the heat filling your core and causing your face to flush.
You knew you were getting closer, but your bra felt uncomfortable against under your shirt and it made it harder to focus, so you ached just enough to peel off your shirt. You tried to fumble with your bra but the angle made it harder, and you were relieved when Matt noticed, pulling the bra down and making it easier for you. He groaned against your clit as your tits fell loose, causing you to whine.
He ate like a starving man, desperate and entirely enthralled in the feeling of you against his tongue. His eyes were glued to your face and the way your hands squeezed and kneaded your breasts, his own hand coming up to grope them over yours.
Your ankles crossed over his shoulders, digging into his back slightly as your back arched. You knew the faces you were making were likely atrocious, your jaw clenched and eyes screwed shut, but you couldn’t be bothered to care anymore.
You shook rather violently as you nearer your peak, but his hands held your hips firmly in place.
“Matt… Matt— Oh fuck, Matt,” You whined and moaned.
“I know, baby. Give it up to me. Whenever you’re ready, baby, I’m right here.”
It was only a few seconds later that you finally did finish. You came all over his face, a rather embarrassing amount, you’ll admit, but Matt lapped up every drop he could. By the time you had settled, his face was glistening and his eyes were hazy, almost as fucked out as you were.
“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, wiping his chin on his arm before crawling up to kiss you.
You kissed you slow, his arms wrapped around you and his weight pressing you into the mattress.
“Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he mumbled against your mouth.
You were still catching your breath when he pulled out his phone, typing something.
“What are you…?”
“I’m telling Nick to stop somewhere and get us dinner. You can cook for us another night.”
You hummed in acceptance, your eyes already sleepy.
“Do you still need help? I can—”
“No need, baby. I’m alright.”
Your brows furrowed and you were about to protest but he chuckled and kissed your forehead.
“I came in my pants like a teenager, alright? There, now we’ve both been embarrassed tonight.”
You laughed softly, amused but also secretly finding it hotter than you’d like to admit.
“I still want you to fuck me properly,” you mumble sleepily.
“I’ll set an alarm for us to wake up with plenty of time before Chris and Nick get home. We’ll see how you feel, then.”
You snuggle into him, enjoying the scratchy feeling of his stubble against your shoulder.
“I’ve got the rest of my life to fuck you how you deserve. You need to rest.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to bite back a grin.
“See? Now, I can blame the sex.”
He lifted his head, eyes meeting yours with every ounce of love and adoration.
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ---› smut ⋆ exes to something more ⋆ reconciling (kinda) ⋆ sex under the influence (full consent from both parties) ⋆ missionary ⋆ fluff + more.
𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ---› 𝟐.𝟐 𝒌
𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ---› this is dedicated to both @hauntedhouseofhorrors & @ariestrxsh ’cause my dumbass is taking sooooo long to finish the fics i promised to write for you guys and i feel bad 😭 (also, i don’t even know what the fuck is going on in this i must’ve written it while drunk (i don’t drink), i gave up on proofreading so good luck to those who decide to read the whole thing)
𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 ---› english is not my first language!
inspired by chris’ photo dump (i think that’s quite obvious).
You’d been dragged to a stupid house party by your friends. They told you one night out wouldn’t kill you. And maybe they’re right. You do need to get yourself out and about more often.
As you stand there holding a solo cup, already a little heated from whatever concoction one of your friends created for you, your eyes catch something that makes your breath hitch.
On the other side of the room stands your ex boyfriend, Christopher Sturniolo. That easy grin on his lips, chatting with his friends and occasionally sipping from his own solo cup. He’s clad in a black t-shirt and black jorts. A pink gingham hat is sitting backwards on his head, partially hiding his soft brown curls that you used to love carding your finger through.
You’re so shocked to see him again—and at a party like this nonetheless—that you don’t even notice the girl clinging to him. Not that you care if he’s with a new girl anyway; He’s always with a new girl.
As if sensing a pair of eyes on him, Chris’s eyes find yours in the crowd of sweaty bodies, his lips curling up further at catching you watching him. His amusement grows when you look away, pretending like that brief eye contact didn’t just make you feel a flutter in your stomach.
He excuses himself from his friends and the girl clinging to him, leaving her sulking beside his buddies, and begins walking towards you. The smugness on his face as he navigates through the sea of people isn’t lost on you.
He knows exactly how much he affects you.
And that’s the worst part.
"Hey..." He says when he’s close enough, and tilts his head to catch your eyes. "Didn’t expect you to see you here."
"You have some audacity talking to me, Christopher." Your jaw clenches. The sarcasm bubbles off you—a defense mechanism that Chris knows all too well.
"C’mon... Don’t call me that. You know I don’t like it-"
"What are you trying to do?"
Chris blinks as you cut him off. Then laughs—a loud, amused laugh that grates on your nerves. "Jesus, I’m not trynna do anything. I’m just saying hi to my favorite ex."
"Well, you’ve said your hi. I think you should go back to your friends now." You try to dismiss him, but he’s like a pest, unwilling to leave.
"Don’t be like this-"
"Jesus Christ Chris!" You snap. “Why are you even talking to me?”
He shrugs casually, not at all bothered by your frustration. "Because I’m bored."
"Then go home," you say sharply, before adding sarcastically, "you looked like you were having enough fun."
Chris smirks—that annoying, shit-eating smirk—the kind that tells you enough how smug he’s becoming. "Jealous about it? You jealous?"
You roll your eyes so hard you think it might get stuck that way, and decide to ignore his dumbass instead of entertaining him further. Turning on your heels, you begin to make your way towards the hallway where it’s quieter. Hoping Chris would get the message and leave you alone.
But of course, the fucker follows after you like a puppy, giggling under his breath like the sight of you fuming is oh-so-entertaining.
You finally stop in your tracks and turn around so sharply you almost get a whiplash and Chris almost runs into you.
He raises his eyebrows as he looks you up and down shamelessly. "Why’d you stop?" He asks casually, like he doesn’t notice how much he’s been annoying you in the mere 5 minutes he’s interacted with you.
"Why? You’re really asking me why, Chris?" You ask incredulously. "You’ve been following me like some brainless meat puppet for the past few minutes. It’s fucking pissing me off."
Chris leans closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate sound. "Maybe if you’d just talk to me like I’m not a nuisance, I wouldn’t keep annoying you."
His hand reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, but you glare at him. Which makes him chuckle and retreat his hand, tucking it into his pocket instead.
"You’re really good at acting like you hate me.” Chris murmurs, his voice barely audible over the faint thumping of the bass from the music blasting in the main room.
"I know you’re not over me. Or us." Something shifts in his expression. Something raw he’d been hiding behind that casual grin.
"Chris-"
"Don’t shut me out again. I just want to talk... Please?"
The way he was looking at you now—softer, less cocky, almost desperate—breaks down your defenses much quicker than he thought it would.
Your expression softens against your will and you find yourself nodding slowly, sighing as you mumble out an agreement. “Okay. Yeah. We’ll talk.”
Buuut you knew in the back of your mind that it would never end with just talking when it comes to Chris.
Especially when he’s got you in his own house instead of the party you were both at.
He always knew exactly how to talk you through it. Make you beg for him before he’s even touched you.
And this time isn’t any different. You had folded before he’d even suggested anything. Climbing onto his lap and making out with him like before everything fell apart and you pretended to hate him to avoid getting heartbroken again.
Chris’s hands on your hips tightens ever so slightly as you grind your hips against his slowly. His breath hitches against your lips, feeling how warm your core is even through your clothes. His hips shift slightly, pushing his boner harder against your core and coaxing out a soft, breathy moan from you.
His hands roam over your body as the kiss deepens, trailing across your figure with such reverence you almost think he’d take things slow.
But the next second, you’re flipped under him, your gasp getting caught in your throat as you stare up at the brunette man who’d once been your person. He’s already taking off his hat before your brain can fully catch onto the position you’re in and how much you’ve missed being under him.
His t-shirt follows next, getting tossed to the floor on one side of his bed. The sight of him shirtless makes your stomach flip and you know that you’re probably staring at him so shamelessly. He looks a lot buffer than the last time you’ve seen him shirtless.
He must be hitting the gym a lot lately huh…
"You know we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to." Chris suddenly says, pulling back ever so slightly to look at you better. "I don’t want to force you into anything."
You blink, your head becoming much clearer as the slight concern in his words register. You must’ve looked like you were having second thoughts about whatever was about to happen. But that wasn’t it. Why is he not getting it? That you’re so overwhelmed with so many different emotions at seeing him like this again to even get in your head.
You were too busy checking him out to worry about anything else. And he needs to know that that’s the reason why you looked zoned out.
Your hands slowly reach out to cup his face, his skin warm against your palms. He goes stiff at first, not expecting the gentleness, before he melts into it. Eyes fluttering closed as he lets out a soft sigh, shoulders relaxing.
"I want this too. I promise." You whisper. "I just… feel overwhelmed."
You’re not sure if you should admit to it, but seeing the way he was hanging onto your every word eased some of the nerves.
"I missed this is all."
His expression softens further and his lips curl into a soft smile—one that makes your heart squeeze tightly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I did too." He admits softly, leaning down to kiss you again.
"We’ll take it slow." Is what he said.
But when his tip breached your entrance after the foreplay, he knew he was fighting a losing battle.
His hips rock slowly, gritting his teeth as he tries not to pound his fat cock into you over and over again. It’s also been such a long time since you two have had sex, and truthfully you haven’t fucked anyone since him, but you’d never admit to it.
Chris groans, his cock throbbing painfully inside your warm, wet walls that are currently squeezing the life out of him as if it wants to drain his balls. He doesn’t remember you being this fucking tight. He knows he’s big, but you always took him so well before.
His hips halt to a stop the moment he hears the little wince when he pushes a little harder. His eyes immediately search your face for any discomfort. "Fuck, you okay? Hurts?" He’s already beginning to pull out as he says so, but your legs suddenly wrap around his waist tight enough for him to sink balls deep inside you.
Both of you gasp loudly at the sensation. You feel filled to the brim. The stretch is painful—but deliciously so. It feels like he’s all up in your guts, so deep that his tip is pressing insistently against your cervix like it wants to push past it.
Chris on the other hand almost nuts inside you at the sudden soft tightness of your pussy squeezing around him like a velvet vice. He has to go completely still and try to breathe through the pleasure to prevent himself from ejaculating prematurely.
It doesn’t help him one bit when your inner muscles begin to flutter and contract around him to accommodate his size.
It takes a few long minutes for the both of you to adjust to the intense pleasure overwhelming your senses. And when Chris begins moving, he forgets all about going slow. He pulls back almost completely before slamming back home.
The sheer intensity of his thrust has you jolting up the bed, which he prevents by caging your head in with his forearms when he repeats the same motion that has you clinging to him.
Your nails dig into his back as the wind gets knocked out of your lungs each time his hips collide with yours. You can barely moan properly as the pleasure blooming up your core threatens to overwhelm you completely.
His thrusts soon turn shallow but deep. Though his pace and how hard he was fucking you didn’t change at all. His breath catches against your neck where he has his face buried, sucking and biting at your neck and shoulder like he just can’t get enough of you. Like he’s starving and you just happen to be the most delicious thing he’s tasted.
Your eyes roll back when he eases his pace but begins grinding his hips against yours in a circular motion whenever he bottoms out. His pubic bone provides such delicious friction against your clit. So much so it has your jaw going slack and pussy clenching around him tight enough for him to hiss in pleasure.
Chris knows he’s doing everything right when he hears the change in your tone and the way you’re clinging to him more than before. He knows you’re close already. But he decides to drag it out, changing his pace to one drastically slower than before.
"Chris," you whine breathily, swallowing thickly as you try to move your hips on his dick. "Don’t stop."
Chris chuckles, a low, rough sound as he keeps moving his hips slowly, dragging his hefty length along your quivering walls. "I haven’t stopped though, have I?" He questions cruelly, keeping you right on the edge without letting you tip over.
"Please, faster," you beg. "I’m so close… fuck, Chris—i’m so close-"
Hearing you beg like that finally snaps what little composure he was holding onto and he decides to give you exactly what you’re begging for.
You can barely keep your volume down when he begins to pound you into his bed. The coils in your stomach grow more and more taut with each thrust and you’re not sure if you can even handle the pleasure.
"Fuck—ngh-ahh—can feel you squeezin’ me. Oh, fuuck–" Chris moans low in his throat, his rhythm faltering by a fraction before he’s fucking even harder than before.
Warmth begins to flood through your entire body, starting from your core, before you can even warn Chris that you’re cumming. You cry out as your body arches under Chris’s, pussy milking his cock greedily. Pleasure overtakes your mind for a few earth-shattering seconds as you drown in the sensations created by your orgasm.
Chris follows soon after with a low, outdrawn moan against your neck, his hips stuttering against yours as he fills you full of his warm cum.
He keeps moving slowly, panting softly as he lifts his head up to stare at the post-coital glow on your face.
God, he adores how soft and sated you look after sex.
You feel his lips on yours before you can even catch your breath, let alone think about what this whole ordeal means to your status as exes.
Maybe you’ll leave the thinking for later.
“You felt fucking amazing…” Chris whispers against your lips, one of his hands easing down to caress your waist and hip. “Think you can go ‘nother round? Wanna taste you next.”
Yeah… you’ll definitely leave the thinking for later.
It was way too quiet in my dorm room for how chaotic my brain felt. The only sounds were the dull buzz of the overhead light and the occasional flip of a flashcard from across the room. I was on my bed, legs criss-crossed, a textbook balanced on my lap and a pen loosely dangling from my fingers like I’d given up halfway through a sentence. Because I had.
Across from me, at my tiny desk, Matt looked irritatingly unbothered. He sat back in the chair, completely zoned in, flipping through a stack of cue cards like he was speed-running a game only he was good at. The sleeves of his striped button-up shirt were rolled just enough to reveal the faintest glimpse of his tattoo sleeve that I always pretended not to stare at. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, a silver chain catching the light just barely where it dipped below his collarbone. His glasses rested perfectly on the bridge of his nose, and he hadn’t said a word since he arrived.
He looked like someone who didn’t know what academic panic even felt like.
Meanwhile, I was on my bed in the middle of what could only be described as academic chaos. Notes spread everywhere, highlighters uncapped and drying out, tabs open on my laptop that were supposed to help but were honestly just stressing me out even more. My hair was doing its own thing, and I’d changed positions at least fifteen times in the last hour.
“I can’t do this.” I groaned, dragging my hands down my face as I stared hopelessly at the wall of notes I’d taped up like some kind of desperate murder board. “My brain is full. Nothing else fits.”
Matt was sitting at my desk, looking exactly like the calm before a storm. I hated how relaxed he looked. No stress. No breakdowns. Just Matt being… Matt.
“You say that every time we study.” he said without looking up.
“Because it’s true every time.” I huffed. “Seriously, how are you not losing your mind?”
He set the cards down and turned towards me, eyebrow raised.
“You want me to lie and say I’m struggling too?”
“Ughh! Nevermind.” I sighed dramatically and flopped backwards onto my bed, staring at the ceiling like it might start raining answers. “You sure you don’t want to trade brains for like... a day?”
Matt let out a snort. “I think I’d like mine to stay intact, thanks.”
I narrowed my eyes and grabbed a pillow, launching it half-heartedly in his direction. He caught it without missing a beat, still reading, and still completely composed.
Unbothered. Untouchable.
I sat back up, trying to refocus, but my brain felt like it had been dipped in cement. I blinked at my notes. Nothing was going in.
Meanwhile Matt was still... doing his thing. Calm. Focused. Definitely judging me with those perfectly curated flash cards and smooth page flipping.
“They should give out degrees just for effort.” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. “Or at least for showing up. That counts for something, right?”
“Depends.” Matt said without looking up. “Are you counting the times you showed up but forgot your laptop?”
I stared at him. “That was one time.”
He finally looked over at me, that small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth again. Not smug exactly. Just... knowing.
That was the thing about Matt. To most people, he came off as the straight-laced type. The guy who sat front row in class and submitted assignments two days early. But I’d seen the edges.
I’d seen how he doodled tiny comics in the margins of his notes. I’d seen the random indie playlists on his phone that were way too dramatic for someone who acted like nothing ever got to him. And I’d seen how that button-up shirt was part of the costume because underneath it, he was layered in ink and wit and maybe a little bit of mischief, if you looked closely enough.
“You’re being quiet tonight.” I said after a pause, narrowing my eyes a little. “Too quiet.”
“I’m studying.”
“You study and talk.”
“Not when you’re on the verge of a meltdown. I figured I’d let you spiral in peace.”
I let out a short laugh and chucked a highlighter at him. It bounced off the desk and landed on the floor with a soft thud.
Matt didn’t react immediately. He just set his cards down slowly, adjusted his glasses, and turned towards me with an expression way too serious to be real.
“Would you prefer I distract you?” he asked.
I blinked. “What kind of question is that?”
He leaned back a little in the chair, arms crossed now, one tattooed forearm resting on the edge of the desk. “A dangerous one.” he said lightly, eyes on mine.
And there it was. That shift. That flicker in Matt’s eyes that only I knew about. The one who played it cool in public but had a sharp tongue when no one was around to hear it. The one who’d accidentally brush my hand when we passed notes and then act like nothing happened, while I was left trying to remember how to breathe.
I felt my pulse jump just slightly and tried to play it off. “You're supposed to be helping me, not tempting me.”
“Tempting you?” he echoed, lips twitching like he was trying not to smile. “Interesting choice of words.”
I rolled my eyes, turning back to my notes with a little too much energy. “You’re the worst.”
“And yet,” he said, standing up from the chair and walking over to the bed. “You keep asking me to come over.”
He stopped beside the mattress, his knee brushing the edge of it. Close. Too close.
I didn’t look up, but I could feel him smiling.
“Question five,” I said quickly, flipping through my notebook like it was a shield. “Explain it. Now.”
Matt sat down beside me, pulling my notebook gently from my hands. His fingers grazed mine, lingering for half a second longer than necessary.
“Only because you asked so nicely.” he murmured. Matt skimmed over my notes like he was trying to solve a puzzle, which honestly, was kind of what my handwriting looked like. He made a small noise in his throat, not quite a laugh or a sigh, and looked over at me.
“Is this... a diagram of the circulatory system, or a jellyfish?”
I snatched the notebook back. “I was multitasking. I needed a creative break.”
He raised his eyebrows, not buying it for a second. “Sure. You’re a regular Picasso of biology.”
I stuck my tongue out at him. Very mature. “Just teach me question five before I actually lose it.”
Matt scooted a little closer, our knees nearly touching now. He angled the notebook between us and started explaining. His voice was calm and smooth like always, but there was a subtle edge to it tonight. Something quieter and warmer. It was as if he wasn’t just going through the material, but he was letting me in.
His fingers tapped a rhythm along the page as he spoke, tracing words without touching them. And then, almost absently, his hand drifted and he tapped my knee instead. Not hard. Just a little nudge.
“You’re not even listening.” he said.
I blinked. “Yes I am.”
“You’re staring at me.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but… okay, maybe I had been. Just a little.
“You have something on your face.” I said, recovering quickly.
He paused. “I do?”
“Yeah. Arrogance.”
He let out a soft laugh, then nudged my knee again, this time leaving his hand there for a beat longer.
“Fine,” he said, voice dropping just slightly. “How about we make it interesting?”
I gave him a look. “Define interesting.”
He gave a small knowing smile, which usually meant something stupid was coming and I knew that look in his eye way too well.
“I think I have a great way to help you retain this better.”
“Unless it involves magically uploading the content into my brain, I’m not interested.”
His eyes glinted with something that made me sit up a little straighter. That look always meant trouble.
“I quiz you. You answer. And for every question you get right…” He paused, just long enough to make me suspicious. “I take something off.”
I blinked. “Sorry?”
“Clothing.” he clarified, like it was the most casual suggestion in the world. “It’s called positive reinforcement.”
My lips parted in disbelief, and then slowly curled into a grin. “You’re gonna strip? That’s insane.”
He shrugged one shoulder, clearly enjoying this too much. “It’ll keep you motivated.”
This wasn’t entirely out of character. After all, this wasn’t our first time playing a little fast and loose with boundaries. Our first “study session” last year had ended with him kissing me against my dorm wall, my notes forgotten on the floor, and ever since then, things between us had blurred in that very specific, dangerous way. Not quite dating. Definitely more than friends. A casual arrangement. Physical. Easy.
I tried to scoff. I really did. “Are you being serious?”
He leaned back, cool and unbothered. “Dead serious. You get the satisfaction of watching me fall apart, and I get to see if you’ve actually been listening to me all semester.”
I gulped, my heart kicking up just a notch.
“And if I get something wrong?”
“No clothes come off.” he said, lips twitching. “You lose the visual reward. Pure punishment.”
I stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or throw my textbook at his face. This was classic Matt, looks like a clean-cut model student, but secretly the most unhinged person I knew.
And the worst part? It was working. I was definitely paying attention now.
I should’ve said no. I should’ve. But the way he was sitting there, smug and unreadable, like he knew I was going to cave, made it impossible.
“Fine.” I said. “Let’s go, show pony.”
He grinned like I’d just made his night.
“Alright,” he said, holding up the first card. “Let’s keep it simple. What part of the brain controls coordination and balance?”
I paused, thinking. “Cerebellum.”
“Correct.” He stood up, slipped off his watch, and placed it gently on my desk.
“Your watch?” I said. “That barely counts.”
“It’s clothing-adjacent.” he replied smoothly. “Don’t worry. There’s more where that came from.”
I hated how calm he sounded. Like this wasn’t a completely ridiculous game. Like he wasn’t unbothered at all about stripping in the middle of my dorm room.
Next card.
“What’s the primary function of the occipital lobe?”
I didn’t even blink. “Visual processing.”
He gave a slow nod, as his fingers went to the buttons of his shirt. One by one, he undid them, his movements deliberate and unhurried. As the fabric parted, I caught the first glimpse of a thin chain resting against his collarbone, the metal catching the light for just a second before disappearing beneath a fitted white tank underneath.
I swallowed.
Matt shrugged the shirt off and draped it neatly over the chair, his chain now fully visible. Which, unfortunately for me, was far more distracting than it had any right to be.
“Next.” I said quickly, pretending I wasn’t already losing focus.
The next few minutes passed in a blur of answers and… layers. He quizzed, I answered. Sometimes faster than I probably should’ve, just to watch him stand again and pull the next item off like this was a casual Tuesday ritual.
Tank top gone.
I wasn’t ready for that part. He peeled it off slowly, revealing more of that lean, defined body I tried very hard not to stare at. His chest was toned, not in an obvious, gym-obsessed way, but in a way that made it impossible not to notice. His chain rested perfectly against his skin, catching the light when he moved. The tattoo sleeve continued across his shoulder and bicep, dark ink against pale skin.
I tried to act unaffected, but he caught the way my eyes lingered. Of course he did.
“Focus, sweetheart.” he teased, already pulling another card.
“I am.”
He looked over the next card, completely relaxed, like this wasn’t the most distracting way anyone has ever helped someone study. His bare chest rose and fell in that slow, calm rhythm he always seemed to carry, even when he was pushing every single one of my buttons.
Then the glasses came off, folded neatly and set on the desk. And I think that might’ve been the moment I stopped registering the questions.
Then his shoes.
Then his socks.
And now? He was sitting back down in just black jeans, barefoot, shirtless, and looking every bit as relaxed as he had when he walked in fully dressed.
“How’s that focus of yours now?” he asked, voice low, lips twitching like he already knew.
“Gone.” I admitted, because there was no point in lying.
“Want to keep going?”
I stared at him. “You still have your pants on.”
He smiled like I’d just handed him my last shred of self control. “Then keep getting answers right.”
Matt’s eyes didn’t leave mine as he slowly slid the next flash card out of the pile. We were fully in it now. Past pretending this was just for motivation, past pretending we weren’t both holding our breaths.
I sat cross-legged on the bed, heart hammering in my chest, pretending to still care about academic retention.
He read the next question.
“Name the four lobes of the cerebral cortex.”
“Frontal, temporal, parietal, occipital.” I recited, barely blinking.
His smile curved wider. “Sharp.” Then he stood and, without a word, reached for his belt.
My breath caught in my throat.
He unfastened it with one smooth pull, then slid it from the loops and dropped it with a soft clink on top of his shirt.
I blinked. “You’re really doing this.”
“You’re getting the answers right.” he said with a shrug, as if that was reason enough to keep going. “You want me to stop?”
No. Absolutely not.
But I kept my tone neutral. “This is wildly inappropriate behavior for a study partner.”
He smirked as he sat down again, leaning forward just slightly. “Good thing we’re not really study partners.”
Right. We were something else.
Something undefined. Something that had started in a blur of late night coffees and stress-fueled tension, and ended up with us pressed against each other in the dim glow of my desk lamp in junior year. We were breathless and reckless, and said nothing about it afterwards. Since then, things had stayed comfortably undefined. No rules. No expectations. Just quiet tension and moments like this, where one wrong move could unravel it all.
Another question was read out and another answer effortlessly rolled off my tongue.
I watched silently, as he rose again, steady and sure. He let his thumbs slip beneath the waistband of his jeans. He popped the button and dragged the zipper down. And then, with the same maddening composure he’d had all night, he stepped out of them.
There he was. Barefoot, stripped down to nothing but those fitted black briefs, his silver chain, and the tattoos on his arm fully visible. My mouth was dry.
“Fuck.” I muttered.
Matt just grinned and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, cards dangling from one hand.
“Consider it a reward for actually paying attention for once.”
“Oh please. I’m always focused.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Then you’ll have no problem with the last question.”
I narrowed my eyes, suspicious. “Hit me.”
He pulled the final card, but when he read it aloud, it wasn’t from the set.
“Do you think about me when I’m not around?”
My breath caught. That wasn’t psychology. That wasn’t anatomy. That was Matt.
I stared at him.
“That’s not on the test.” I said quietly.
“No,” he said, voice lower now. “This one’s for extra credit.”
He didn’t push. Didn’t smirk. Just waited…for once, serious. Like the game was fun, but this was the real question he’d been holding in his back pocket all night. And it hit different. Harder.
I swallowed, the air between us suddenly heavier than it had been all night.
“Yes.” I said, because there was no way around it. “I do.”
He tilted his head, that familiar heat flickering behind his eyes.
“Good.” he said. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you either.”
He let the cards drop to the floor, forgotten.
Then he stood, and with just a few steps, he was standing at the edge of my bed looking down at me.
“So,” he murmured. “You still want to study?”
I looked up at him, pulse thudding in my neck.
“I think that’s enough for tonight.” I whispered.
He leaned in slightly, just enough for his chain to brush my collarbone as he dipped his head.
“But I don’t think you want me to leave.” he said quietly, lips ghosting near my jaw.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I hated that he was right. I hated even more that this always happened. The closeness, the heat, the way we slipped into each other like it was the most natural thing. Every time I told myself it didn’t mean anything. That we weren’t serious. That we were just... us.
But then he’d look at me like this. Touch me like this. And it didn’t feel casual anymore.
His smile was not cocky or smug, just... sure. Like he already knew how this would play out, because maybe he’d been waiting for me to stop pretending I didn’t want it just as badly.
Matt crawled onto the bed without a word, slow and smooth. He stopped when he reached me, hovering close but not touching, like he was giving me room to call it off.
I didn’t.
He reached out and plucked the pillow from my lap, tossed it carelessly to the floor. His knee brushed against mine as he settled in front of me, close enough that I could see the slight crease between his brows that only appeared when he was actually nervous.
“I know we don’t do this,” he said quietly, voice low and rough around the edges. “Talk about it. Whatever this is.”
My heart stuttered. “We said no strings.”
“I know.” he said, leaning in just slightly, “But if I don’t kiss you right now, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”
That confession hit harder than anything he’d quizzed me on tonight.
So I didn’t make him wait.
I leaned in first, grabbing the edge of his chain and pulling him into me. The second our lips touched, everything else fell away. The game, the cards… none of it mattered anymore.
He kissed me like he’d been holding back for weeks. Hands sliding up my sides, touch warm and purposeful. His mouth moved over mine with slow, aching precision, the kind that made my head spin and my whole body buzz.
And I kissed him back like I didn’t care what tomorrow looked like.
Because maybe I didn’t.
He shifted, guiding me back gently until I was lying against the pillows, his body pressed lightly against mine, just enough weight to feel him, not enough to overwhelm. His hands were careful and familiar.
When we finally broke apart, breathless, his forehead rested against mine.
I let out a shaky laugh. “You are the most dangerous kind of chaos.”
“Only for you.”
We lay there in the quiet, heat still humming between us. Bodies tangled in a way that felt impossible to undo, even if we tried.
No one said anything about what this meant, or where we’d go from here. We didn’t have to. Not yet.
Matt’s arm slid beneath my shoulders as I settled against him, the soft rhythm of his breathing calming the rush in my chest. His chain pressed cool against my skin, a stark contrast to how warm he always ran.
I traced the edge of a tattoo on his arm without thinking, my fingertip following the sharp lines and curves. He didn’t stop me.
“You always distract me.” I mumbled into his shoulder. “You’re lucky I didn’t kick you out.”
“You wouldn’t have.”
And he was right. I wouldn’t have. I never did.
That was the thing about Matt. He showed up when he wanted, stayed as long as he pleased, and I always let him. It was easy to pretend it didn’t matter. To keep it casual. No strings. Just stolen nights, soft touches, and shared looks that always lasted too long.
Lying there with him half-asleep next to me, his hand rested lazily on my thigh like he had every right to be there.
Comfortable.
I tried to ignore the way that made something pull tight in my chest.
“I should be quizzing you.” I said.
“You should be sleeping.”
“Hard to sleep when you’ve basically derailed my entire night.”
He looked at me, eyelids heavy. “You didn’t complain.”
I didn’t. And I wasn’t about to start.
He reached out, brushed a strand of hair away from my face, his fingers slow and soft like he had nowhere to be. I hated how natural it felt. How much I wanted him to stay, even if I knew he never promised to.
“Should I go?” he asked, voice quieter now. Like he didn’t want to, but would if I said the word.
I looked at him for a long second. At the way his mouth curled slightly even in stillness. At the chain still catching in the hollow of his collarbone. At him, this confusing, frustrating, and magnetic boy who could unravel me with just a look.
I shook my head. “No. Stay.”
His gaze lingered on mine for a beat longer than it should’ve. “Okay.” he said, like it was that simple. Like he hadn’t been staying all along.
winter break is here and nerdy!matt wants to capture a memory with college student!reader for when they’ll be apart for the holidays (6.2K words)
view more of this au here
Contains: smut, porn with plot, consensual filming of a sex tape, fingering, oral (f receiving), edging, overstim, dumbification (?), breast/nipple play, dirty talk, unprotected piv, creampie
Matt was half-sprawled across my bed, like this was his room. Legs stretched out and back propped up on my pillows, as he casually flipped through one of my notebooks like he didn’t just barge in uninvited and throw his hoodie on my chair. Always claiming every part of me and my space. His glasses are slightly crooked from how he kept adjusting them with the back of his wrist, and I knew he did it on purpose. I swear he weaponized the little things.
Outside, the campus was already thinning out. Suitcases were being dragged, car trunks were getting slammed shut, and distant “see you next semester!” echoes bounced throughout the walls of the hallway.
“I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me for two whole weeks.” Matt said, voice light, but lazy like he’d settled in for a while. “What am I supposed to do with myself?”
I tossed a pair of jeans into my suitcase as I rolled my eyes, smiling. “You’ll survive. Maybe barely, but you will. And besides, you’ll be busy with your family too.”
He hummed like he was deeply unconvinced. “You act like this isn’t a tragedy.”
“It’s winter break, Matt.”
“Exactly. Prime cuffing season. And we’re both just gonna vanish into suburbia.”
I arched a brow, pulling my sweatshirt over my head and hearing the grin in his voice before I even turned to face him. “Are you saying you’re gonna miss me?”
He doesn’t look up. “I’m saying I’ll be emotionally unwell and might require daily photos. Preferably shirtless. Maybe with a festive bow.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“And yet,” he finally glanced up, eyes dropping to my now sports-bra-clad torso. “You still keep me around.”
I shot him a look and grabbed a handful of socks to stuff into the suitcase. “I’ll be gone for like, what? Twelve days?”
“Thirteen.” he added, a little too fast.
I froze for a second, then smirked. “You actually counted?”
His ears turned slightly pink. “I’m very good with numbers.”
“Oh yeah? What about the number of orgasms I’ll rack up without you around?”
That wiped the grin right off his face. He blinked once. Then exhaled sharply through his nose, leaning back and resting his hands behind his head, the smugness returning him slowly.
“Baby, you and I both know you won’t even make it past one before you cave and FaceTime me.”
“You’re so full of yourself.”
“You know I’m right.” he grinned.
I chuckled, zipping the suitcase halfway and then walking over to stand between his sprawled legs. His gaze dragged up my body, greedy and lingering.
“You’ll miss me.” I teased, resting my hands on his thighs. “Admit it.”
Matt smirked, tilting his head. “I already do, sweetheart.”
Goddamn it. If that didn’t make my pulse jump…
He sat up slightly, legs still spread open around mine, as I rested my hands on his shoulders. “We’re both gonna be away.” I murmured. “What are we supposed to do?”
Matt hummed, sliding his hands around my waist. “Text. Call. Maybe send each other something filthy to keep morale up.”
“Classy.” I rolled my eyes, but I was already smiling, because the way he was suddenly holding me was… nice. Too nice. Dangerously nice.
He leaned in, brushing his mouth lightly against my hipbone, not quite kissing. “I’ll miss this.”
I tangled my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. “You’ll miss me.”
He looked up at me, smirking like he was about to say something cocky but it never came. Instead, he wrapped his hand at the back of my neck and pulled me into a slow kiss.
He didn’t rush it. His mouth lingered against mine like he was memorizing the shape of it. It was the kind of kiss that made my chest ache instead of making my head spin. His thumb brushed just under my jaw, steadying me there, like he was afraid I might disappear if he let go.
I kissed him back softer than I meant to, my lips moving against his in a way that felt almost careful. Almost too intimate, even for us.
When he pulled away slightly, he asked, “Do you trust me?”
“Do I trust you?” I echoed slowly, narrowing my eyes, as I stood straighter. That was not at all what I expected him to say. “Why do you sound like you’re about to ask me to help you bury a body?”
Matt grinned, as his hands slid around my waist, warm and familiar. “No dead bodies. Just an idea. A naughty little memory to keep us warm over the break.”
I folded my arms, arching a brow at him. “I’m listening.”
“Well, I was thinking…” he said, his voice low like it was a secret only the two of us should know. “We're both about to go spend two weeks with our families and probably will be so busy. And I already know I'm gonna be so fucked up over not being able to touch you. So… what if we made something… to help with the distance?”
A beat passed as I let his words settle.
“Are you suggesting we make a sex tape?” I asked, blinking.
“Only if you want to. I’d never show it to anyone. Ever. You’d have full control. But the thought of having something, of you, that I could watch when I need it…” He bit his lip, hard. “You’ve got no idea what that would do to me.”
I stared at him for a second, processing everything that was just admitted to me. My heart started to race, my cheeks burning, and my thighs, traitorous bastards, pressed together just slightly. It was insane. But also… very, very hot.
“And what exactly would we be filming?” I asked slowly, already breathless and imagining the way he’d look through a lens.
His smile widened. “Everything. As much as you’ll let me. You. Me. The way you look when I’m buried inside you. The sounds you make. The way your mouth moves when you beg.”
I swallowed. “You’re gonna talk through the whole thing, aren’t you?”
He pulled me in, his lips brushing against my stomach. “Every filthy word.”
God, I was already melting.
“Fine.” I gulped in anticipation, bracing my hands on his shoulders. “But if I look weird, we’re deleting it.”
“Deal.” he said, nodding in agreement. “But you won’t. You’re gonna look so fucking hot.”
He then kissed me again, hands already sliding up to cup my ass as he pulled me in closer until he flipped us over and my back met the mattress. And somewhere, as he fished his phone out of his pocket and tapped the camera on, I realized just how absolutely fucked I was.
Matt barely gave me time to blink before his shirt was over his head and tossed somewhere behind him. That chain I loved so much on him swung with the motion, catching the light just enough to make me ache. His toned stomach flexed as he stretched, and those damn tattoos crawling down his arm made him look so delicious. And the way his glasses stayed perfectly perched on his nose while he looked at me like I was dessert and he hadn’t eaten all day, made my knees weak.
I hooked my fingers into the waistband of my shorts and shimmied out of them, leaving me in nothing but my sports bra and panties, and a reckless sense of want. Matt’s eyes dropped and stayed there, pupils dark and his jaw tightening. I could feel the heat between my legs throb at the way he looked at me, like he didn’t know where to start first but he would definitely devour every inch.
“You’re serious about filming this?” I asked, even though my fingers were already dancing at the edge of the waistband of my panties like I was itching to ditch them too.
Matt’s gaze flicked up to my face. “Dead serious. I want to watch you come for me on repeat.”
My breath caught.
“Open your legs, sweetheart.” he ordered, as he angled his phone on the desk. “I want the first shot to be you all wet and waiting for me.”
I didn’t hesitate. I spread my legs like he asked, propped up on my elbows, as I watched him press record. The moment I heard the beep, my heart thudded.
He groaned as he stepped into the frame. “Look at you. Fuck. This is already better than I imagined.”
He crawled over me like he already had a hundred times before but still looked at me like this was brand new. His fingers gripped my thighs, slowly spreading them further, and his eyes scanned every inch like it was something sacred and scandalous all at once. My breath caught when he dipped his head to kiss up my inner thigh, featherlight at first, then open-mouthed and lingering. His lips brushed the hem of my panties and I swore I felt the smirk against my skin.
"You’re gonna let me touch you like this while the camera’s rolling?" he murmured, nosing along the fabric, his breath warm and teasing.
“Yeah.” I whispered, nodding quickly. “I want you to.”
He tugged them down slowly, like he wanted to watch every second of them sliding off. Once they were gone, he kissed the crease of my knee and started trailing his way up again, slower this time, like he knew I was already shaking for it. His fingers ghosted along my slit, teasing, barely there.
“You’re already wet.” he said, sounding both surprised and pleased, like he wasn’t fully ready for how much I wanted this.
I gasped when he pressed two fingers to my clit, circling gently, just enough to make me twitch. He leaned in to kiss my stomach, then higher, letting his fingers move with more intent as I arched beneath him. It wasn’t rushed. Matt had this way of touching me like he was learning me every time, as if it was the first and last chance he’d ever get.
“Look at you.” he gruffed, eyes flicking up to meet mine as he worked me open. “So pretty like this.”
I felt my stomach tighten, the pressure building already from how gently he was playing with me, like he wanted to savour every breathy sound I made. And I gave him all of it. The moans, the little whimpers, and the way my hips bucked into his hand when he slipped one finger in, then two, curling just right. I wanted to give him something to miss. Something to rewind and replay and grip his sheets when he was alone.
“Louder.” he said, clearly not satisfied. “I want to hear you. I want you to hear it when I play this back.”
My mouth fell open around a moan, the kind that came out embarrassingly loud and dirty. Matt watched my face, watched every flutter of my lashes, and every tremble of my lips as he picked up the pace just slightly, enough to keep me teetering, but not enough to let me fall.
“Gonna make you cum just like this.” he whispered against my neck. “With the camera rolling and you moaning my name so sweet. Fuck, baby, I’ll be hard all break.”
His mouth then dropped to my chest, kissing the tops of my breasts through the bra, then pulled the fabric down with his teeth so he could suck at my nipple. His fingers still continued stroking me deep and slow. I cried out, back arching off the mattress.
"Matt—" I gasped, nails curling into his arm. “Fuck, don’t stop.”
"Wasn't planning to.” he said, his lips brushing my skin and eyes gleaming from under his lashes.
His fingers were working me open so slowly it was criminal. Every drag and curl inside me had my breath hitching in my throat. I was sprawled out, thighs parted and twitching, hands clenched into the sheets as I tried to stay still.
But I couldn’t. Not with the way he was watching me, head tilted, glasses sliding down his nose, and mouth parted like he was somewhere between impressed and obsessed. That same mouth curved into a sinful little smile as he twisted his fingers just right, and my back arched off the mattress.
“Shit.” I whimpered, my jaw falling slack as I threw my head back. “Matt—”
“I know.” he said, licking his lips, as he withdrew his fingers so slowly it was agony. They slipped out with a wet sound and I felt the loss like a punch to the gut. I almost whined before I realized what he was doing.
He slid down between my thighs, nudging them further apart, breath fanning over where his fingers were previously buried inside me. And I knew what was coming next.
He grinned. “You mind if I have a taste?”
I could barely form any words to respond to him.
“You’re not answering.” he said, lips brushing my inner thigh again, so soft I could barely feel it. “Mind if I taste, or are you already too fucked out to speak?”
I could’ve slapped him. Or kissed him. Or both. “Matt.” I whined.
He hummed like I’d just confirmed something he already knew. “You’re usually louder by now. Guess I’m doing something right.”
The pads of his fingers stroked my clit lightly, enough to evoke a reaction out of me. I let out a choked moan that echoed throughout my dorm room. He then dragged them down my slit, and then up again, spreading my arousal over my clit with the kind of maddening patience that had my hips grinding up on instinct.
"God, you're so wet." he muttered, licking his bottom lip as he stared between my legs like he was hypnotized.
He leaned in, close enough that I thought he was going to finally use his mouth, but no. Instead, he kissed the crease of my thigh, right next to where I needed him, and let out a low, satisfied breath.
“You’re twitching.” he said softly, his voice tinged with amusement. “Do you want my mouth, or are you just gonna keep humping my hand like that?”
“Matt—fuck!” I groaned, dragging one hand into his hair and yanking just enough to make him look up at me. “Please… stop teasing.”
His eyes flicked to the camera, then back to me. “Say it louder.”
I blinked. “What?”
He smirked. “Say it loud enough for the camera. So when I’m watching this later, I get to hear exactly how much you wanted my mouth on your pussy.”
My jaw dropped, heat rushing straight to my cheeks… and even lower. “You’re such a fucking menace.” I hissed.
“And you love every part of it.” he smirked, pressing a soft kiss just above my clit this time. “Now beg.”
My whole body was shaking. I was growing terribly desperate. Squirming like I was already on the edge. I tangled both hands in his hair, my breath ragged and thighs wide open for him. “Please, Matt.” I whimpered, shameless now. “Fuck me. I need it. I need you.”
That was all it took. His smirk turned into something darker and hungrier. “Good girl.”
His hands gripped the backs of my thighs, spreading them wider, and pushed my knees up towards my chest. I barely had time to blink before he discarded his glasses and put his mouth on me.
The first swipe of his tongue nearly broke me. It was slow. Way too slow. Just the tip of it, barely grazing over my clit like he was teasing the frosting off a cupcake, and not wrecking me from the inside out. I choked on a gasp, hips jerking up into him, but he held me down easily with one arm slung over my waist. The pressure of it, the way his tattooed forearm flexed against my stomach while he kept licking lazily… it was unbearable in the best way.
He groaned softly like I was the one feeding him, like tasting me was something he’d been craving all day. I watched him lower his mouth fully, tongue flattening against me, and I could feel the smirk as he let me rut up into him like I was the one being lewd.
“Fuck.” I whined, trying to push up onto my elbows to look down, and saw the sight of him between my legs. That did something to me. Something feral.
He flattened his tongue and licked up again, slower this time, eyes locked on mine the entire way. I was panting, moaning, and grinding against his face now, needing so much more.
I couldn’t even think straight, not with the filthy noises coming from between my thighs, or with the way he kept pulling back just to blow cool air over my soaked folds before diving right back in.
“Matt…” I whimpered again, broken and breathless. He only hummed in response, his mouth never leaving me.
His tongue was relentless. Slow when I expected fast, deep when I thought he’d tease. He was determined to wring me out, to etch every swirl of his mouth into my memory and maybe even into my bones.
I couldn't stop squirming, my thighs trembled in his grip, and my hands grasped for something to hold. My fingers tangled in his hair before sliding down the back of his neck, nails gently scraping skin. His responding growl vibrated against me and sent another needy moan tumbling out of my mouth.
And then I looked. Just for a second.
The phone sat propped up on the side, angled perfectly to capture all of this. My body flushed and twitching, and Matt moving and being buried between my legs.
My whole body clenched. God, I knew I looked wrecked. And he looked... insatiable.
A breathless moan slipped out, this one louder than the rest, played up shamelessly. For him. He’d watch this later. Probably with that cocky grin and a hand down his pants. The thought made me even wetter, hips grinding against his face before I could stop myself.
"Getting off on the thought of me watching this later, huh?" Matt said, barely pulling back, like he had crawled inside my brain. His voice was wrecked, all gravel and lust, lips slick and swollen from everything he'd just done. “You’re so dirty, sweetheart.”
“Shut up.” I rasped, panting, barely able to form words.
He slid two fingers back inside, curling them deep as his mouth returned to my clit, gentler this time. My moan cracked at the edges, raw from how high he already had me. Every glance I risked at the camera just made it worse. It made everything so much more intense.
“Fuck, Matt, please.” I whimpered, hands covering my face for a second before I forced myself to look again, to watch him, to give him something to remember.
He flicked his tongue faster, fingers working in tandem, coaxing me towards the edge like he wanted to watch me fall apart in full 1080p.
“God—Matt—” I gasped, tightening my grip in his hair, anything to anchor myself. “More, please—”
“Mhm.” he hummed, and that vibration shot straight through me. He dipped lower, sucking my clit into his mouth gently, then released it with a filthy wet sound that made me flush all the way down to my chest.
“You hear that?” he murmured, lips brushing over me again, his voice thick with something feral. “So wet for me, fuck.”
The camera caught everything. The way his soft curls bounced as he moved, the way my thighs quivered around his shoulders, and the way he groaned again, mouth dragging messily through my slick before plunging his tongue inside me, deep.
“Oh my god—” My voice cracked, legs trying to close around his head until he gripped them and spread them wider, locking me open. His fingers dug into my thighs just shy of bruising, holding me in place while he devoured me like it was his last meal for the year.
He licked and sucked like he was trying to hit every angle, every nerve. And his fingers curled inside me with that precision he’d already perfected.
I cried out, loud and ragged, one hand covering my mouth until he pulled back just enough to say, “Don’t you dare stay quiet. Let me hear it.”
I dropped my hand. And then I was moaning openly and messily, the kind of sounds that would make anyone blush watching them back.
Matt’s eyes were wild. And the coolness of the chain around his neck brushed against my heated thigh every time he moved, and I couldn’t stop watching it, or feel like this was the hottest thing we’d ever done.
My hands fumbled up to my chest, cupping myself instinctively, tugging and squeezing just to feel something more. I knew this was all for him. And the thought of him watching it later, hearing the way I begged, and the way I whimpered for him… it sent another shock of pleasure through me. I wanted to be his mess. His memory. His favourite video on lonely nights when he’d think about nothing else but this… about me.
“Look at you. You like putting on a show for me, don’t you?”
I nodded before I could even think. And right as I felt that tension rising, that sweet pull in my belly like I was about to lose it, Matt pulled back with a kiss to my inner thigh. He just looked up at me with that infuriating calmness, his lips glistening. He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and smirked like the smug bastard he was.
“Not yet.” he panted. “I want us to finish together.”
I could’ve cursed him out. I could’ve turned the camera off. I could’ve even grabbed him by his stupid chain and yanked him back down between my legs until I came on his mouth anyway. But I didn’t. Because the way he looked at me? All flushed cheeks and blown pupils and that cocky little grin like he knew what he was doing to me? Yeah. That was a kind of high I wasn’t ready to give up yet.
So I laid there, my legs still spread, as my chest unevenly rose and fell. “Fuck… okay.”
He stood at the foot of the bed, cocky and casual like he hadn’t just yanked me away from the edge of oblivion. My thighs were still trembling, heart still hammering, and all he did was look down at me with that taunting tilt of his head, like he was so pleased with himself.
His fingers hooked into the waistband of his sweats, dragging them down teasingly slow, letting the fabric catch against his hips just enough to make me groan in frustration. And of course he didn’t break eye contact. Not even for a second.
“You gonna behave?” he asked, one brow raised as he stepped out of them, now in just black boxer briefs that did nothing to hide how hard he was.
“Depends.” I rasped, swallowing hard as my eyes flicked down to the bulge pressing tight against the fabric. “You gonna let me cum this time?”
He laughed softly, the sound curling down my spine. “Eventually.”
Then he reached for the elastic band of his boxers and peeled them down, as his cock springed out free—and god. It always got me. That moment. The visual of all that composure stripped off with the last piece of clothing. He was flushed, thick, leaking at the tip already, and I swear my mouth watered.
His chain caught the light as he moved closer again, crawling up between my legs like he had all the time to ruin me. His cock brushed my inner thigh and I whimpered, lifting my hips to feel more, anything, but he just pinned me back down with one hand and kissed the top of my knee like I wasn’t seconds away from going feral.
“You still with me?” he murmured, dragging his fingers up my stomach, letting them pause just under my bra.
“Barely.” I whispered.
He smiled, kissing the underside of my breast, the swell of it still tucked under the tight fabric. “Good. I want you all messy and needy when I finally let you cum.”
He reached behind me to unclasp the bra, one-handed, smooth and practiced, and slid the straps down my arms like he was unwrapping a gift. His eyes dropped to my chest and darkened immediately.
“Fuck.” he husked, cupping both breasts, thumbing over my nipples until I gasped. “You look so fucking good like this.”
He leaned in, licking one slowly, then sucking until my back arched off the bed. I could feel his cock press against me now, hard and heavy, rubbing between my folds without actually giving me what I wanted. He was teasing me with everything… his mouth, his hands, and the heat of his body. And I was completely unraveling under him.
“Matt… baby.” I whimpered, dragging my nails across his shoulders, desperate. “I need you.”
“You’ll get me.” he murmured, kissing the side of my throat, then biting down just hard enough to make me moan.
He braced a hand beside my head, the other between my thighs again, spreading the mess he'd made of me with a lazy drag. My legs instinctively curled around his hips, ankles locking, pulling him closer.
"Look at that." he whispered, against my ear. "All that just for my fingers. You really gonna survive my cock?"
I let out a breathless, desperate sound, grinding up into him with absolutely zero shame. My answer came out as a moan instead of words. He softly laughed, then reached between us to line himself up. But not before Matt reached for his phone.
“Need a better angle for this.” he said, with a teasing glint in his eyes which sent a fresh shiver down my spine.
He angled his phone in one hand, steady and focused, while the other gripped his cock, lining himself up at my entrance. I whimpered, already twitching from how much I’d been worked up.
“You ready, sweetheart?” he asked softly, thumb brushing against my inner thigh. “Want to show the camera how good you take me?”
I nodded fast, breath catching as he pressed in just a little, stretching me open inch by inch.
“Oh fuck, look at that.” Matt groaned, voice cracking with raw need as he angled the phone downwards to capture the way I was parting around him. “You’re sucking me right in.”
I gasped, eyes fluttering shut, only for him to growl.
“Nuh-uh. Keep your eyes open. Watch with me.”
So I did. I looked down past my heaving chest to where his cock was sliding into me, slow and steady, and the sight alone had me cursing under my breath. It was so obscene. But so hot. And he hadn’t even bottomed out yet.
“You feel that?” he rasped. “So fucking tight. All that dripping wet mess just for me, and still taking me in so well.”
My hips lifted instinctively, chasing him, desperate for more.
“Greedy girl.” he smirked, giving the slightest thrust forward and catching the reaction on video.
I moaned helplessly as he started a slow rhythm, capturing the way I clenched around him each time he pulled back and slid back in. He muttered something low, barely coherent, something about how I looked like a dream stuffed full of cock.
And then he angled the camera up to my face, catching my wrecked, needy expression. “You should see yourself right now.” he whispered, lips brushing my cheek. “All fucked-out and I’ve barely started. Think you’ll survive two weeks without this?”
I shook my head, too breathless to lie.
“Didn’t think so.”
My mouth dropped open in a silent cry, head tipping back against the pillows as he stretched me slow and deep, making sure I took every damn bit. His chain dragged across my chest as he leaned over, his mouth brushing mine, and his eyes watching my face with that greedy, locked-in focus that always made my lungs forget how to breathe.
"That's it." he groaned, pulling out just an inch before pushing back in again, like he needed to feel me cling around him.
And he wasn’t wrong. I was clutching his back, and my hips rolled to match every thrust as he set a pace that was deep, just shy of brutal but soaked in affection. He pressed kisses to my throat, my jaw, and then back to my mouth like he couldn’t get enough.
“Matt, baby.” I mewled, dizzy from the fullness and how slowly he was dragging it out. “You feel so good.”
He hummed like he agreed, like he knew. “This what you wanted?” he rasped, licking into my mouth between words. “To be filled up nice and slow? Want me to fuck you like you’re mine?”
I nodded, frantic now, arching into him. “Yes. Please.”
He grinned, with a wild look flashing across his features. “You are mine, sweetheart. Even if you act like you’re not.”
My whole body clenched around him at that, and he felt it. His next thrust slammed deeper, making me cry out and claw at his shoulders, pulling him down so I could devour the groan he let loose against my lips.
His chain grazed my skin with every slow thrust, cool metal dragging along the heat of my chest while his lips trailed from the corner of my mouth to my ear. “Still with me?” he whispered, breath uneven. “Or did I already fuck you dumb?”
I moaned something between his name and a curse, not even sure I could form real words anymore. My legs were locked around his waist, trying to keep him as deep as possible while my hands dug into his back, clutching him like I needed him to stay inside me forever.
Matt pulled out halfway only to roll his hips and sink right back in, groaning low in my ear when I clenched around him. “You’re still gripping me like it’s the first time, fuck.”
He pulled back again, a little slower this time, just to watch my face twist with want. Then slammed forward again and didn’t stop. I gasped, hands flying to the sheets to brace myself as he picked up pace, fucking into me like he meant it. Like he was trying to ruin every guy who would ever come after him.
And it was working.
My body was being rocked into the mattress, the obscene sounds echoing off the walls. Even with sweat misting our skin and the sounds of skin on skin getting filthier by the second, he still found time to press kisses along my collarbone.
“Bet you’re gonna think about this over the holidays.” he husked, his voice dark and delicious. “Laying in your childhood bed all innocent while you remember how good I made you feel. Gonna miss the way I fill you up, huh?”
I nodded fast, cheeks burning, and biting my lip to keep myself from screaming. His words were doing things to me. Twisting something deep and hot inside me until I couldn’t hold back.
“Say it.” he rasped, slowing for just a second. “Tell me you’re mine.”
And God, I didn’t even hesitate. “I’m yours.” I cried, completely gone. “Matt, I’m yours.”
That pulled a guttural groan from him, filthy and raw. His forehead dropped to mine, lips brushing mine as he growled, “That’s right.”
Then before I could process anything, Matt grabbed my hips and flipped me effortlessly onto my stomach. I let out a surprised breath, barely having time to readjust before his hand was pressing between my shoulder blades, guiding me down until my face hit the pillow and my ass arched instinctively into the air.
“Fucking hell.” he gruffed. “So perfect, even like this.”
I whimpered, the cool air teasing over my dripping hole as I shifted, trying to stay still even though every muscle in my body was aching to be filled again. I turned my face to the side, breath catching when I felt the blunt head of his cock nudge back at my entrance, already soaked and twitching from earlier.
“Matt, please.” I managed to pant, voice embarrassingly needy. “I need it. I—I can’t think straight.”
“Oh, I know you can’t.” he laughed softly, smug and utterly wrecked himself. “You get like this every time I put you face down. All whiny and brainless, just wanting to be split open.”
And then he pushed in, deep and agonizingly slow, until he bottomed out and I practically cried out, muffled into the pillow.
“Fuck—Matt—”
“What is it, sweetheart?” he cooed mockingly, pulling out just a little before snapping his hips back in hard enough to jolt my whole body forward. “Too deep?”
I tried to speak but it came out as a garbled moan.
“That’s what I thought.”
My hands scrambled at the sheets, trying to find something to hold onto. “Shit, Matt. You’re hitting so—f–fucking deep, I can’t—”
“You can. And you are. Look at you, dripping all over me, clenching like you want me to break you.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Every stroke hit perfectly, dizzyingly precise, and the added angle had me fluttering around him like I was already close again. I let out a long, strangled moan, hips rolling back into his thrusts on instinct.
“I’m gonna cum.” I breathed, half in disbelief. “I’m seriously—I’m—oh my god—”
Matt leaned forward, his chest flush against my back, voice low and hot against my ear. “Then cum on it. Make a mess all over my cock while I fuck it out of you.”
My orgasm hit hard, making me clench around him like a vice, as my whole body arched back while I cried out his name. And Matt didn’t slow down. If anything, he got rougher, chasing his own high now, fingers digging into my hips like he’d never get enough of me.
“Gonna… watch this… part… every… night.” he panted, hips slamming into mine.
His thrusts started to falter, each one sloppier than the last, hips snapping into mine with a desperate rhythm that had me seeing stars.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” he groaned, his voice sounding wilder as he slammed into me, much deeper than before.
“Yes—Matt, please.” I choked out into the pillow, fingers curling into the sheets like I was bracing for impact. “Don’t you dare pull out.”
And then it hit. His whole body jerked against mine as he came, a guttural moan ripped from his throat while thick heat spilled inside me. I gasped at the stretch and the flood, legs trembling beneath him as he held me flush to him, grinding so deep it felt like he was never going to leave.
“Fuck, fuck—” he heaved, rocking into me once more.
I could barely respond, my brain short-circuited from the sheer intensity. I just whimpered something incoherent, hips twitching back into his because I was just as gone.
He leaned over me, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “The camera got all of that, sweetheart.”
I could only nod, eyes fluttering shut, entirely overwhelmed by the warmth now leaking down my thighs.
He pulled out slow, obscenely slow, just enough to watch himself drip out of me. I heard him grab for his phone again, probably to record the mess dripping out of me. I was still on all fours, trembling, absolutely ruined. I heard him groan as he filmed the filth I was covered in, like he was admiring a masterpiece.
“Fuck.” Matt groaned, with that lazy drawl of his. “You’re fluttering.”
I whimpered into the pillow and tried to close my legs. But I couldn’t. Not when his free hand spread one cheek to get a better angle.
“You are so getting off to this later.” he teased, flashing a grin that was all teeth as he lowered the camera again. “Bet you won’t even last ten seconds. Just the sight of my cum leaking out of you and you’ll be right back on your knees.”
“Shut up.” I mumbled, my voice cracking as I collapsed onto the bed fully, arms giving up on holding me up.
“Oh, sweetheart.” he said, tossing the phone onto the bed before crawling back over me, wrapping me up in his arms. “You did so good. You were perfect.”
I hummed, too tired to form a full reply, and rolled onto my side. Matt instantly pulled me closer, his arms circling around me.
“I had fun.” I mumbled into his chest, my words barely above a whisper as exhaustion settled deep in my bones.
“I don’t know how I’m gonna survive winter break without you.”
I laughed softly, completely blissed out. “Guess we’ll both be suffering then.”
And the last thing I felt before sleep took me under was Matt pressing the gentlest kiss to the top of my head and tightening his arms around me in a warm, protective squeeze. “But I know the wait will be worth it.”
view more of this au here
A/N: here's some yearning, angst and straight up filth for all the lovely supporters and fans of this au.
This one shot contains ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ smut w plot, sauna smex, angst, toxicity, bickering, praise, p n v, fingering, clit stimulation, softsub!reader, mentions of previous trauma and family issues, degradation, small size kink, dry humping, use of names (good girl, slut)
Word count ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 4.4k
𖥻 Summer of Sturniolo post for @crystalcider !!
Golden sunshine poured through the crowded car, nostalgic summer wind hitting your face through the rolled-down passenger window. You relished in it—the last few moments before the sun fully set, closing your eyes to feel the final rays on your cheeks.
"Five minutes." Matt says, fingers tapping on the steering wheel in anticipation.
The forest became more condensed as you neared your destination, thick trees bordering each side of the street. Restlessness enveloped the backseat—Chris, Nick, and the group's mutual friend Noah stirring. Soon Matt turned onto a cobbled back road, a familiar route that made your stomach swirl with excitement.
For as long as you could remember, the cabin was your sanctuary. Your family and the Sturniolo family were tight-knit, and every year would carve out time to spend at the shared house. This year was especially significant, considering that it was the first time you were going to celebrate the Fourth of July here—and the first time you had the property all to yourselves.
It took convincing, but your parents handed over the keys for the weekend. They trusted that their children, as new adults, would treat the cabin responsibly. They couldn't have been more wrong.
As you came within eyesight of the house, it was clear you guys weren't the first to the party. White plastic tables were planted throughout the lawn, housing bottles of alcohol, cup-pong, and various types of classic American food. People crowded the area—the yard, dock, and wrap-around porch teeming with partyers. You recognized most of them, even from afar—summer kids and locals you were used to seeing during these months. Why they were here though, you had no idea.
"Ah. They're early," Chris mumbled from the backseat.
"Are you fucking serious, Chris? We're supposed to be taking care of the lake house, not destroying it." Matt shot at him, gripping the wheel as he turned to park behind a line of cars.
"It's the Fourth of July and we have an empty house. What did you think we were gonna do?" Chris tried to justify himself.
Matt's face stayed unimpressed, and you sighed from the tension. Being able to mentally prepare yourself for a party was more favourable, but you weren't opposed to having a little fun. You stayed silent, not wanting to take Chris's side.
The five of you filed from your seats, and rounded to the back of the car to grab your belongings. Frustration seeped from Matt as he slammed the trunk, enclosing the now empty vehicle. Chris began trudging down the dirt path towards the music, one hand folded to hold his backpack strap. Nick and Noah followed, talking amongst themselves, while you hung behind with Matt. He began grumbling as soon as the others were out of ear shot.
"It's always what Chris wants."
"It might be fun." You nudged his shoulder with your own as you walked.
"You're taking his side?"
"No. Never. I'm just saying, might as well make the most of it."
Matt shrugged, a smile beginning to creep on his face. "Yeah, you're right."
"Always am."
"You sound like Chris."
Despite your aversion to Chris, the two of you were a lot alike. The style you adorned yourself with, the bands you liked, your favourite movies—you shared them all with him. You cringed when you thought about it—being anything like him. You tried to convince yourself that you were all the good parts of Chris, but it left you confused when you identified that many positive aspects.
When you and Matt reached the log cabin, you were now in the center of the blowout. A girl in a striped tube top giggled at Matt, gesturing for him to join her. He fumbled his backpack into your arms, stuttering something about bringing it to his room for him. The girl pulled him by his bicep, and the two of them camouflaged into the crowd. It was safe to say he was now on board with the party.
Now alone, you stepped up the deck stairs of the familiar lakehouse. American flags were hung from the banister, blowing in the soft summer air. Dusk fell over the lawn, covering the partyers in a deep blue hue. Sparks from a bonfire flew as a guy stoked it, the classic woodsy scent wafting in all directions.
You tore your eyes from the magnetic scene, and made your way to your bedroom for the weekend. It was the first room at the top of the stairs, and had always been assigned to you. Without thinking, you pushed the door ajar. In your immediate line of vision, a scene from your nightmares was at play. A girl was placed on the dresser, her lips locked onto Chris's. Although his face was turned from you, his red backwards cap made it obvious it was him. He was between the girls thighs, her legs straddling around his waist. They were oblivious to you entering, hands exploring one another like the world depended on it. Flooded with embarrassment, you debated silently retreating. A mix of disgust and confidence overtook you though, and you cleared your throat instead.
Chris whipped his head around, eyes meeting yours.
"We're busy," the girl sneered.
"You can go be busy in a different room," you quipped, throwing both backpacks you held onto the bed.
"Or you can go be a stuck-up bitch somewhere else," she responded, wiping her smudged lipstick.
Chris stepped away from her body, hands dragging off her thighs. "Okay, you can get out."
"What?" The girl grasped for his sleeves.
He pushed her hands off of him. "She's like family, okay? Don't fucking talk to her like that."
She scoffed and hopped from the dresser. Profanities whispered from her mouth as she stomped through the doorway.
Why had he defended you like that? Did he really see you as a sister?
"She seems like a real treat!" Sarcasm dripped from your tongue.
"Why do you always gotta ruin shit for me."
"We've been here ten minutes, I'm sure you can find someone else," you started. "And don't hook up in my room."
These kinds of situations were common with Chris. Regard for other's feelings was completely out of his realm of perception. He acted in a way that made everyone accommodate to him—the classic "golden child", as Matt often put it. You, however, never catered to his narcissism. This drove him crazy, and was one of the many reasons the two of you never got along.
"Whatever, I'm gonna go set up the fireworks." As the words left his mouth, a pang of horror washed through you.
"Fireworks?" you questioned, paleness creeping to your cheeks.
"Yeah..?"
"Here?"
He caught wind of your sudden agitation, but his tone didn't become any more compassionate. "Yes. Here. That a problem?"
Without waiting for a response, Chris pushed past you. Rhymic steps descended down the hallway as he left.
Your heart stuttered in your chest, premature panic settling into your skin. Why hadn't you thought about this? You should've known that Chris would bring fireworks, it was Fourth of July after all. Goosebumps traveled up your spine at the thought of the booming noise.
Ever since you were little, yelling had been a part of your life. Whether it was picture frames shaking off the walls, or being forced to "pick a side" of your parents arguments, shouting was constant. It acted as lullabies when you slept, and background noise to every activity. That's part of the reason you loved this cabin so much—no arguing ever happened here. It was a safe place, free from the deafening sounds of your every day existence.
Because of this childhood, you were confined to a life of relative quietude. You knew that something like fireworks would undue all the progress you made in rebuilding yourself. Anxiety fixed into your bones as you closed the door behind you. Fighting the fit of terror creeping on, you curled to the pillows of your bed.
Just wait it out. Wait the fireworks out, and everything would be okay.
Minutes of anticipation ticked by, and you watched as darkness concealed the sky. From the mattress, you could see the dock through the second-story window. Boys were crowded in a circle, kneeled around what you assumed to be the culprits of your fear. Laying on your side, you waited until plugging your ears became a necessity.
Through the solid pane of glass, you heard the hissing begin. Beams of light shot to the sky, cascades of vibrant colours sweeping over the trees. You cup your hands over your ears instantly, but the insulation does nothing to block the thundering blasts. Tears well in your eyes in time with the next reverberating roar. Blistering through the walls, the sound of the fireworks was not letting up. Boom, boom, boom. Inhaling shaky breaths, you curl yourself tighter on the duvet.
Without warning, a hand is placed on the side of your goosebumped arm. You flip your body around, palms slipping down from your ears.
"Chris?" Your voice is shaky, and your tears are revealed instantaneously. "What are you doing here?"
"I left my—it doesn't matter. What's going on?" You had never seen genuine worry in his eyes until this moment.
"I-I can't—" Throat hoarse and mind jumbled, it was impossible to force any words out.
He sat down next to you, hand still firm on your shoulder. "Hey, hey, it's okay."
"I'm okay I just," a blaring blast caused you to flinch. "Fuck."
Sitting up, you brought your knees to your chest. Hugging them, you opened your mouth to make an excuse. But as the noises continued to bellow, more briny sadness wept from your eyes.
Chris instinctively moved next to you, wrapping his arm around your shivering shoulder. "What can I do?"
"Just…just stay with me.” You met his gaze. "Please."
He nodded, brows pulled together in concern. "Of course."
Nuzzling against his chest, your tears stained his t-shirt. Warmth radiated off of him, a blanket of comfort settling over you. He brought his hand to cup one of your ears, while you pressed the other firm to his body. You shook against him each time a firework roared, but his hold on you stayed steady. He anchored you to reality each time he exhaled, warm breath blowing onto the top of your head. The storm inside your mind lulled as his hands muffed the sound.
A concussive thud hammered in your chest, heartbeat erratic. At first you blamed the thrumming on the uproar of the holiday, but as the booms became sporadic, your heart continued to pound. You were too consumed by fear to realize it initially, but Chris wrapped around you made you feel a type of way you didn't want to admit. Butterflies you wished you could slaughter fluttered in your stomach as you breathed in the scent of him. Perfect cologne and the smell of a bonfire clung to his shirt.
"Chris?" you muttered, bringing your face up to look at him.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you." Your eyes flit to his lips without thinking, and you pulled them away immediately.
He returned the gaze, view lingering on your mouth long enough to make your stomach flip.
You were suddenly all too aware of your proximity—your touching shoulders, your noses inches from one another. Chris seemed conscious of this as well, his breath hitching as you impulsively scanned his face. Hotness seeped into your skin. You held a silent thankfulness for the dark, grateful that he couldn't see the blush flushing your cheeks.
He parted his lips, looking down at your own before speaking. A mental argument seemed to be taking place in his mind. "I'm sorry."
Tilting your head, you questioned, "For what?"
"For getting so close to you, I didn't know what to do."
"It's okay…it's nice," you admitted.
A small smile crept onto his mouth, but concern still filled his eyes. "Do you want me to stay?"
Hesitating, you looked through the window. "Don't you want to get back to your party?"
He shook his head. "This feels more important."
Nervous, you tried to relieve the tension. "All out of girls to hook up with?"
He huffed a laugh. "Now, don't get jealous."
Scowling, you formed a line with your mouth. "I'm not jealous."
Chris pulled you back to his chest, nuzzling his chin to your hair. “Sure.”
Wind wafted softly past your cheeks as you listened to the birds sing. Cupped in your hands steamed a coffee Matt had brewed for you, the sweet aroma aiding the peacefulness of the morning.
"I don't know, that really doesn't seem like Chris," Matt says, sipping from his own mug.
"I'm telling you, he was… sweet."
"That's unsettling."
Listening to the songbirds melodies, you clicked your manicured nails on the ceramic cup. "It was refreshing."
In your mind, you replayed the previous night over again countless times. Chris soothed your panic as effectively as a drug, leaving you addicted to his touch. He held you until you fell asleep against him, his warmth easing you to slumber without delay. When you awoke, an indent laid in the bed next to you, the only evidence of his previous presence. At what point in the night he left, you weren't sure. But when you reached to graze the duvet, it was still heated from his body.
"Don't tell me you're lettin' him snake his way into your brain." He glanced over at you, eyes squinted with suspicion.
You returned his gaze, not responding.
Matt groans, "Jesus. Not you too."
"No. It was just nice seeing him not be a dick for once." You shrug, bringing the coffee to your lips.
"Better not get attached. Don't need another person swooning over Chris."
Later that day, when the sun rose to its peak, a swim in the lake was growing increasingly more desirable. Feet dangling off the edge of the dock, you got your body used to the chill of the water. Radiance beemed down into your near bare body, tanning everywhere that your bikini didn't lay. You were always the type to ease into the water at your own pace.
In your procrastination, the sky darkened. Clouds rolled in gray billows across the horizon, small drips of precipitation ricocheting off the water. Allowing the gentle summer rain to patter off of you, you had no intention of retreating to the house.
Focusing on the croaking frogs, you almost didn't notice the sound of someone nearing you. The soft shake of the wood underneath you stopped as the steps reached the end of the dock.
"You gonna jump off?"
Matt had taken Nick and Noah to a nearby grocery store, so you knew who the voice came from immediately.
"Hey, Chris." You kept your eyes on the rippelling of the lake.
"Going swimming?" his voice asked from the back of you.
"Nope, just got my bathing suit on for fun."
"Funny."
Placing your hand behind your seated body, you turned to look at Chris. "Do you need something?"
"I got the sauna set up," he said proudly, peering down at you.
"Cool." you nodded. "Is that, like, an invitation?"
"If you want it to be."
Droplets became heavier against your exposed skin. Chilled, stormy air drifted past you, raising goosebumps along your figure.
"Or you can stay out here in the cold," he scoffed, "your choice."
Raindrops pattered against his shirt as he turned away. Reluctantly, you pushed yourself from the wood and followed.
Humid and steamy, the sauna sat on the forest’s edge. It was logged with cedar—a beautiful home-made construction done by the triplet’s father. When you stepped inside, the tropical temperature seeped comfortably into your body. Like a blanket of relaxation, the heat calmed you.
This peacefulness quickly dissipated when Chris closed the door. His t-shirt was off in an instant, your eyes immediately falling to the chisel of his stomach.
“Since when you do work out?” Your gaze lingered far too long on his biceps.
He laughed. “Since when do you check me out?”
“I’m not—“ you hesitated. “Shut up.”
His eyes flitted down to your chest, tracing the curves of your tits.
“My eyes are up here,” you shot, sitting down on the bench.
When he planted himself beside you, the air shifted.
“Hey, about last night—“
“We don’t have to talk about it,” you interrupted.
Moisture beaded at the nape of his neck, the swelter of the sauna affecting him. Adjusting his waist upwards, you saw the imprint of hardness through his shorts. You gulped and began focusing on the strings of your bathing suit bottoms, fiddling aimlessly.
Chris glimpsed at your fingers messing with the string. “You nervous?”
“What?”
“You always start fidgeting when you’re nervous.”
“Hey, did you mean it?” You changed the subject. “Last night.”
He tilted his head in confusion.
“When you were with that girl. You said I was like a sister.”
A smirk curled at his lip. “You wanna know if I think of you like a sister?”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“I think of you as my brother’s annoying best friend.”
“Okay, good.” Why did you say that?
“Good?” he questioned, adjusting his hips again.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly.
Sweat began dewing at your skin. The heat caused your thinking to become a muddled mess, self control slipping by the minute. His glistening abs, his arms that were surely able to manhandle you—your critical thinking skills were crumbling.
"What did you mean, then?"
You stuttered, but couldn't force out an answer.
He smiled—that cocky grin that always made your blood boil. But as you looked at him, that usual rage was replaced with a deep, aching lust. Crossing your legs, you tried to fight the arousal. He noticed this movement, of course, and it seemed he was just as affected. In an attempt at hiding his erection, Chris's hands were placed in the centre of his lap.
It was just a matter of who was going to break first.
You adjusted your bikini top using both straps, causing your boobs to bounce as you released the strings. Chris was watching, and sucked in a sharp breath. His fingers were closed in a fist at the middle of his thighs, veins tracing up his forearm. You were beginning to lose this mental battle.
"What you thinking about?" his voice broke the silence.
You tore your eyes from his hands. "Uh.. nothing really. You?"
"Don't lie to me."
"What makes you think I'm lying?"
"You bite your bottom lip," he replied, eyes fixed on your mouth.
You released the lip you didn't realize you were biting. "Are you just constantly analyzing me or something?"
"You just have some tells."
"Well, you do too." Your gaze darted to his lap.
"You're not slick, either." He gestured towards your crossed legs.
Blush attacked your cheeks. Your chest feels heavy—both from the sauna and from the weight of your pounding heart. He unscrewed a bottle of water, adam's apple bobbing as he drank. Mouth feeling irreversibly dry, the sight fueled your thirst.
"You want some?" he asked, bringing the bottle from his mouth.
You nodded. He placed it next to him, on the opposite side from you.
You glared.
"You can grab it, it's right there."
Feeding into his games was never the preferable option, but you were too thirsty to refuse. You separated your intertwined legs and reached over him. It's just far enough that you can't quite grab it—definitely not an accident.
Something in you wanted to mess with him back, so you did the first thing that came to mind. Folding to sit on your knees, you pulled your hair into a ponytail. Now on all fours, you reached over his lap to the water. When bringing it back to you, you traced the cold metal at the bottom hem of his shorts. The condensation trickled against his exposed skin. Sitting back on your knees, you accepted victory and drank.
"Come here." Chris spoke, demanding.
"What?" Your stomach flipped.
"You know what you're doing. Come here... please."
All sense of pride washed from you. Without thinking twice, you placed the bottle down and crawl to his lap. Straddling on either side of his waist, his erection pressed against you immediately. You move slightly against him, the friction of his cock between your legs sending shivers through your body.
"See, that wasn't so hard, huh?" He mocked, snaking his hand to hold the curve of your waist.
"Lot of talk from someone who's bricked just from looking at me."
Moving his face to your neck, he planted a kiss just below your ear. "I can feel how wet you are for me."
His words elicited goosebumps down your skin. You shook your head, denying. But unconsciously, you bit your lip.
A silent duel ensued between the two of you, a fight to keep your composure. As soon as his waist moved upwards, it was a losing battle. His bulge rubbed against your clothed clit, causing a moan to fall from your throat. Placing both hands on your hips, he guided your body against him. Gnawing desire ripped through you, and his measured pace in which he piloted you only made your lust grow. You pressed down on his lap, aching for friction.
Biting back a moan, he held you in place. "Patience."
Your brows pulled together.
"So eager," he taunted, "don't worry, I'll give you what you need."
Sliding your bottoms to the side, his fingers dipped into your folds. Immediately being coated in arousal, he used it to circle your clit with his thumb. You throw your head back, relishing in the pleasure. Hot, congested air covered your body, the smell of cedar and Chris's cologne filling your nose.
"You gonna be a good girl for me?" He slowly sunk two fingers into your pussy.
You tightened around him, your walls gripping him like a vice. "Fuck Chris—"
"God, you sound so fucking sexy moaning my name," he groans, curling his fingers expertly.
You grinded down on his hand automatically, submerging him deeper inside of you. Unable to refrain, you began riding the length of his digits. Pulse hammering, you chased the pleasure.
He pulled out of you. "If you're gonna ride anything, it's gonna be my cock."
Giving up on not seeming desperate, you quickly fondled with the strings of his gray shorts. Your breasts were at his face, shaking in time with your untying. Scooting back, you're able to pull down his shorts and boxers. Hard and leaking with pre-cum, his dick slapped to his stomach. He's bigger than you had anticipated—and throbbing with a need for you.
Chris watched your awed expression. "You can take it."
A whine escaped your lips, but you don't argue. Instead, you reach to his length, gripping his base. Taking your thumb, you pumped the pre-cum down his veins. Pulsating under your hand, his dick moved involuntarily from your touch. He sucked in a breath through bared teeth.
"Patience," you mocked.
He bucked into your hand, a clear sense of defiance. He held back onto your sides, urging for you to get closer. You silently obeyed, moving your bottoms aside and hovering over his cock. His hands were steady on you as you align yourself.
Slowly, you lowered your hips. Your walls sucked in his tip, the two of you moaning in sync. At a painstaking pace, you sunk him deeper. He’s big inside of you, your pussy stretched like elastic around his cock. You gasped as you hit the base, taking his entire length.
Chris’s cheeks were flushed red from the heat, and his chest was slick with moisture. Hair tousled and breath labored, he looked perfect beneath you. You began raising yourself off his dick, emptiness filling you before you sank back down. With Chris’s guided help, you set a pace.
Undoing your bikini strap in a slick movement, your tits fell from the fabric. He kneaded them, using them as handles as you rode him. Your nipples hardened under his touch, and your boobs bounced with the rhythm you had set. Arching your back, they were in full display in front of his face. He took the opportunity, and latched his mouth to your hardened bud. Sucking at the sensative skin, whimpers fell rom your lips.
“Holy fuck, Chris,” you breathed, holding his shoulders.
He released your nipple. “Riding me so fucking good.”
His fingers traveled to where your bodies meet. He rubbed your clit in messy circles, and began thrusting with your pace. The added sensation caused an ache to coil low in your stomach.
“You feel so—holy shit.” You can barely force words out, and he knows this.
You ride him relentlessly, using him to fuel your own pleasure. His tip rams your g-spot each time, the angle impeccable. Throwing your head back, you quicken your speed. Sounds escape from his throat, guttural groans that make your chest pound. You squeeze your eyes shut.
“Fucking yourself dumb on my cock, aren’t you?” you can hear the stupid grin in the voice.
“Chris—“
“Gonna cum around me?”
You nod helplessly.
“Cum around my dick, fucking slut.”
A wave crashed over you, and you leaned your forehead against his. In a mess of shivers, you released around him. He continued to thrust upwards, chasing his own pleasure. You’re unable to move, and your thighs are shaking around his pulsing cock.
As he continues his relentless pace, you realize he has no intention of stopping. Instead, he holds your back, flipping you to lay on the wood.
“Oh my god Chris I can’t—“ you try to finish a sentence, but it’s impossible.
“You feel so good—holy shit,” he groans, speeding up.
His face lowers to yours, and you dig your manicured nails into his back. Lips desperately colliding, your tongues fight for dominance. It’s sloppy, disordered, and perfect. His pumps match the pace of your kiss, and you can tell he’s close. Your nails are sure to draw blood. Your back is pressed to the hot wood, and the weight of him against you is intoxicating. He tastes sweet in a way you wouldn’t have expected.
You clenched your pussy around him, feeling your second climax nearing.
“Oh fuck, do that again,” he breathed.
You continue to tighten, feeling his thrusts become disordered. In a messy final stroke, you feel him spilling inside of you. The sensation causes another climax to rip at your core. Moaning into his mouth, the two of you pant together. Scalding heat permeates both of your bodies, sweat slicking between you.
“Just to be clear,” he starts, pulling out of you.
“This never happened,” you finish.
a/n: go check out Summer of Sturniolo!
This is definitely the longest fic I've done! I wrote this before the newest video came out, but it’s funny that their theme was fireworks too 😭
Tissues are strewn across the sofa, disgregarded, as you curl into the cushions. Even being wrapped in your most comfortable sweats doesn’t ease the chill of your body. You reach for a mug on the coffee table—the fifth cup of tea you’d brewed today.
Before your fingers could touch the ceramic, the phone rings.
Reaching to it, you groggily answer. “Hello?”
“Hey there, peach.” Elaine’s voice is cheerful from the other end of the line. “You up for a lake day?”
“I’d love to.” You cough. “But maybe another day?”
She hears the wavering of your tone. “You sick?”
“It’s just a cold, I’ll be fine.”
“Oh honey, I know just the thing.” With that, Elaine hangs up.
You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it surely wasn’t this.
Chris is standing in the doorway, holding a thermos. His big hands stretch across the container, making it look tiny in his grasp. Your eyes flit from his fingers to the keys hanging at his belt loop.
“Chris… hi!” You try to keep the enthusiasm at a minimum.
“Sorry, Elaine told me to come over with soup. Are you sick?” He raked his gaze over your disheveled appearance.
Your face is completely flush—both from the sickness and from Chris’ sudden arrival. “Yeah, I am. It’s nothing, though.”
He taps his fingers to the metal thermos. “Can I come in?”
“Are you sure you want to? I might be contagious.”
“I don’t get sick,” he assures, in a way that makes you believe him without a second thought.
Moving your shoulder aside, you gesture for him to come in. Heavy stomps from his boots descend past you, adding to the hammering of your chest. Once the door is closed, you walk to where he’s standing in the kitchen. Unable to stand up straight, the island beneath you acts as a physical support.
While he unscrews the container, Chris scans your figure. Not objectifying, not even admiring, just analyzing.
“You should go lay down,” he says. “You look pretty out of it.”
Grumbling, you retreat and lay back to the sofa. Thankfully, you had disposed of all the tissues. Head pounding and body shivering, you nestle into yourself, knees to chest. Having Chris here under these circumstances was not ideal, but it gave you an odd sense of comfort. In these last few months, you had grown accustomed to looking after yourself. You forgot how lovely it felt being cared for.
In your delusive state, time ticks by like a fever dream. You aren’t sure long it takes, but soon Chris is in front of you, holding a bowl.
“You might wanna sit up,” he says, with such authority that it leaves disobeying out of the question.
Once you’re seated upright, he hands you the soup.
“It’s the only thing I know how to cook.” He sits beside you, giving you a spoon. “Mom’s recipe.”
You hold the bowl in both hands, relishing in the warmth. Cozying up to it as if it’s a fire, you smile. “Thank you.”
“Anything for a neighbour.”
‘Neighbour’ isn’t exactly the title you want, but at least it’s a step up from ‘kid’.
“You can put some TV on, if you want,” you suggest, nodding towards the remote.
“Nah, the only things on are tennis and golf.” He makes a face.
You want to say the television is for more than just sports, but decide against it. Instead, you drink a spoonful of the soup. Although your tastebuds are muted, the fact that Chris cooked it made it the best thing you’d ever tasted. He’s watching you, like you’re a child at risk of choking.
After finishing half the soup, your body forces you to lay down. He is still next to you, and you curl your feet to not touch him. You tuck your palms into the sleeves of your hoodie, holding the edge of the fabric with your fingers. Rapidly, the cold shivers turn into hot sweats, and you feel like you’re on fire.
Weight lifts off the sofa as Chris gets up. At first you’re afraid he’s leaving, but you soon hear the sound of running water. When he circles back to you, he’s holding a folded cloth in his hands.
Crouching on his heels in front of you, he slowly brings the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re burning up.”
You mumble in response. It’s impossible to string a full sentence together while he’s touching you.
“Here.” He replaces his hand with the rag.
Cool and wet, the cloth lays on your skin. Relief washes over you. You can’t help but close your eyes under his comforting touch.
The next thing you know, you’re waking up. Eyes still gritty with sleep, you immediately search the room for Chris. You’re met with the dark seeping in through the living room windows. And, of course, Chris sitting at the end of the couch.
“Ah, look who’s up,” he says with a soft smile.
“Oh gosh, how long was I out?” you murmur, brushing the hair from your face.
“A few hours. I didn’t wake ya, figured ya needed a good rest.”
The question gnaws at you enough that you have to ask it. “Have you been here the whole time?”
“Yeah, hope that’s alright. I fixed the window in your bedroom, and that backdoor lock.”
He huffs a small laugh, and raises from the couch. “You better get to bed.”
You try to push yourself from the cushions, but your weak body betrays you.
“Can i?” He asks, looking down at you.
Whatever it was, you would let him. You nod.
Chris lowers just enough to hook the bend of your knees under his arm. His hand sneaks behind your back, and holds you. Like a feather, you lift to into the air. Stability isn’t needed, but you instinctively bring your hand around his shoulder. After one quick adjustment, he begins walking you down the hallway. Your face is nuzzled to his chest. Deep, woodsy cologne is clinging to his t-shirt. Your pulse throbs rapidly as he nears the bedroom.
Pushing the door open with his back, he brings you into your room. In a swift movement, he places you softly on the bed. The duvet is chilled under your touch, the perfect temperature for your heated body.
He unfolds a blanket at the footboard, and drapes the cozy material over you.
“Thank you…for everything.” You smile, cuddling to the covering.
“You gotta stop thanking me, kid.” He plants on the edge of the bed. He looks like a dad getting prepared to read a bedtime story. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
a/n: ik this is slow burn but I just have to really set the scene guys please get the vibe 🙏
✧ enemies to lovers, academic rivals, unprotected sex, clit stimulation, handjob, oral sex (f receiving), breast play/nipple sucking, softdom!chris, car sex
✧ summary: you and chris sturniolo are rival journalism students competing for a prestigious fellowship, forced to work together. somewhere between all the arguments, deadlines, and parties, your academic hatred for each other starts to turn into something a lot more complicated.
✧ word count: 3.8k
if there was one thing everyone at your college could agree on, it was that you and chris sturniolo couldn't stand each other.
you're not sure when the rivalry started, only that it existed before you ever spoke to him. chris sturniolo, opinions editor, the guy who walked into editorial meetings like he was doing everyone a favor by showing up.
you'd heard about him before you transferred, some prodigy freshman who'd already written for outside publications, who professors mentioned in hushed, impressed tones.
you'd expected someone intense, serious, maybe a little awkward. instead you got this: a guy who slouched in his chair and doodled in the margins of his notebook and argued with you about everything, not because he cared, but because he seemed genuinely baffled by your perspective.
like you were speaking a language he couldn't understand.
"that angle's soft," he'd said about your first feature, not unkindly, just deadpan, in front of everyone. "you're protecting your subject."
"i'm being fair."
"fair is boring. fair doesn't get read."
you'd hated him instantly.
the morrison fellowship changed everything. one spot. national recognition. a direct line to the new york times and a twenty-thousand-dollar salary. professor hale announced it in october, his eyes sliding between you and chris.
"you two should collaborate," he kept saying. "you challenge each other."
what you did was avoid each other.
what you did was submit competing pitches and pretend not to notice when professors hale paired you together on research assignments, when he made you share sources, when he locked you in the small conference room with a single laptop and instructions not to leave until you'd outlined an investigation.
"this is stupid," you'd said that afternoon, arms crossed, standing as far from chris as the room allowed.
"agreed." he didn't look up from his phone. "i'll tell him you refused to participate. you can tell him i was uncooperative. we can both get out of it."
"that would require you having a spine."
now he looked up, finally, his expression unreadable. "i have a spine. i just don't see the point in performing for someone who's already decided i'm a dick."
"you're not a dick. you're just..." you searched for the word. "annoying."
"likewise."
you'd left separately. you told yourself it didn't matter. you told yourself you weren't thinking about the way he'd looked at you. tired, like you were exhausting to him.
your friends noticed before you did. jess, mostly, who had a sense for these things, who watched you check your phone during drinks and asked who you were waiting for a text from.
"no one."
"you get that look whenever sturniolo posts something. like you're calculating how to ruin his next article."
"he's frustrating."
"mm." jess had smiled into her wine. "i give it until winter break. one of you is going to snap."
"snap and do what?"
"fuck. or admit you’re obsessed with eachother."
you'd thrown a napkin at her. but later, alone, you thought about it. thought about the way your stomach dropped when you saw his name on the byline list, the way you read his columns twice, once for content and once to catalog the things you disagreed with, the arguments you prepared in your head.
not obsession. competition. that was all.
november. the library at 11 pm, third floor empty except for the graduate students and the occasional security guard.
you were working on an article for media law and had thermos of coffee that had gone cold an hour ago, highlighter drying out in your hand, when you heard the elevator ding.
you didn't look up. didn't care who it was. until the footsteps stopped at the table across from yours, and you caught the scent of cedar and woody cologne, and you knew.
"this floor is usually empty," chris said. not a greeting. just a statement.
"that’s why i'm here."
he sat down. you didn't look up, but you heard him unzip his bag, pull out books, settle in. silence stretched, filled only by the turning of pages and the scratch of pens.
"you're doing the morrison application," he said eventually. not a question.
"obviously."
"me too."
"i know."
more silence. you kept your eyes on your case study, but you weren't reading anymore. you were hyperaware of him. his breathing, the way he tapped his pen when he was thinking, the fact that he was left handed and smudged ink across his palm as he wrote.
"can you stop?" you said, finally looking up.
he blinked at you, genuinely confused. "stop what?"
"existing so loudly."
"i'm sitting here."
"you're..." you gestured vaguely. "taking up space. being present. i can feel you thinking."
that smile flickered, the one you'd seen in meetings when someone said something unexpectedly dumb. "sorry. i'll try to think quieter."
"thank you."
he went back to his notes. you went back to yours. but something had shifted, and when you looked up twenty minutes later he was already looking at you, his expression unreadable.
"what?" you said, defensive.
"nothing. just..." he shook his head. "never mind."
"what?"
"you have ink on your face." he pointed to his own cheek. "there."
you wiped at it, missed. he sighed, reached across the table, his thumb brushing your cheekbone with unexpected gentleness. his hand was warm. you stopped breathing.
"got it," he said, pulling back, and something in his voice had changed, gotten rougher. he cleared his throat. "anyway. i should go. early class."
he packed up faster than necessary, practically fleeing, and you sat there touching your cheek where his thumb had been, your heart hammering.
going to the party was a mistake. it was marcus's birthday, everyone from the paper was invited, the fellowship looming over you like a storm cloud.
you told yourself you wouldn't look for chris. told yourself you'd find jess, have one drink, and leave early.
but you saw him the moment you walked in, leaning against the wall by the kitchen, talking to someone from sports.
he was wearing a button-down you'd never seen, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and you looked away so fast you got dizzy.
why did he have to be hot?
surely it would be easier if you were enemies with someone you weren’t attracted to.
you found jess. found a drink. found a corner and tried to become invisible.
it didn't work. an hour in, you were by the bookshelf arguing with him about some documentary you'd both watched for research, your voices low and sharp, and you didn't know how you'd gotten here, didn't remember moving across the room.
"you're missing the point," he was saying, closer than he should be, his hand braced on the shelf beside your head. you were pointedly ignoring the fact that he was large enough to cage you in, your back pressed against the bookshelf. "the director wasn't trying to be objective. that was the whole—"
"objectivity isn’t real anyway. you can't—"
"you keep saying that like it means something. like you've figured out something the rest of us haven't."
"maybe i have."
he laughed, short and surprised, and the sound did something to your chest. "you're impossible."
"you're insufferable."
"we've established this." he was looking at your mouth. you were sure you were imagining it. "why are we still talking?"
"because you can't admit i'm right."
"because you can't admit you're wrong."
you were both breathing hard, too close, and you could smell him again, that woody cologne, and you wanted to step back but you couldn't make your feet move.
then marcus was there with tequila and cards, pulling you both into the kitchen, and you sat on the counter next to chris because there was nowhere else, your thighs almost touching, your knee bouncing with nervous energy.
the game started. stupid questions at first, then worse ones.
when it got to chris, someone asked about his last hookup and he took a drink without answering, his jaw tight.
your stomach filled with something like jealousy. you ignored it and watched his throat swallow the drink, then looked away.
when it got to you, someone asked who in the newsroom you would get with, and you said no one, taking two drinks. you felt chris's eyes on the side of your face like a physical weight.
are we in highschool? what are these questions.
the questions kept coming. someone asked chris if he'd ever had a crush on someone in the newsroom, and the room went quiet, expectant.
"no," he said, too fast, and took a drink.
you didn't look at him. you couldn't.
later, much later, you were in the hallway trying to find jess, your ride, ready to leave. chris was there too, leaning against the wall, his expression distant, tired.
"you leaving?" he asked.
"trying to. jess isn't answering."
"she left with marcus. ten minutes ago."
your stomach dropped. "what?"
"they went to get food. i saw them go."
"she was supposed to drive me."
he pushed off the wall, ran a hand through his hair, disheveled, less neat than usual. "i'm heading north. i can drop you. if you want."
the alternative was a forty dollar uber you couldn't afford. "okay. yeah. thanks."
the car was cold, the heater blasting. you sat in the passenger seat with your arms crossed, staring out the window, the silence between you heavy and complicated.
he drove carefully, almost too carefully. his hands were at ten and two like a sophomore in highschool with a learners permit.
"you don't have to do this," you said, after ten minutes of silence.
"do what?"
"be nice. i know you don't want to. i know you'd rather i walked."
he glanced at you, surprised, his eyebrows drawn together. "what?"
"it's fine. i know you don't—" you gestured vaguely. "this. whatever this is. i know you wish i wasn't in the program."
"that's not," he pulled over suddenly, into the empty parking lot behind the grocery store, the car idling, the lights off. "that's not true."
"it isn't?"
he turned to face you, and he looked different in the dark, stripped of the facade he wore in daylight. your eyes trailed down his face, from his blue eyes, to the freckles dotting his cheeks, to his nose, and finally to his lips.
"i don't know what i think about you," he said, the words careful and slow. "you're frustrating. you make me question everything i write. you look at me like you're waiting for me to fail." he paused, swallowed. "but i don't wish you weren't here. i think i'd miss it. the arguing. the…" he laughed, helpless. "the whatever this is."
"you'd miss hating me?"
"i don't hate you." he said it simply, like it was obvious, like it had never been in question. "i never hated you. i just didn't know what else to do with... with how you make me feel. how you look at me sometimes, like you see something i'm hiding. and i don't even know what i'm hiding. i don't know anything. i'm twenty-one and i'm competing with you for the only thing i want and i can't figure out if i want to win or if i want y—"
he stopped.
you were staring at him, your heart hammering, and you didn't know who moved first, only that suddenly his hand was on your cheek and yours was on his chest, feeling his heart race, and you were kissing him, or he was kissing you, messy and uncoordinated, his mouth warm and tasting like the seltzer he'd been drinking all night.
he made a sound against your lips, surprised, almost wounded, and his other hand came up to grip your shoulder like he needed to hold on to something.
"wait," he breathed, pulling back, his forehead against yours. "wait, i don't, are you—"
"shut up," you whispered, and kissed him again, deeper, sliding across the center console into his lap, the steering wheel digging into your back, his hands finding your hips with uncertain, shaking fingers.
the car was suddenly too small, the air thick with the scent of cedar and your shared, ragged breaths.
the steering wheel dug painfully into your spine, but you didn't care, not with the hard line of his body pressed against yours, his hands fumbling at your hips like he wasn't sure he was allowed to touch.
you bit his lower lip, just enough to make him gasp, and his hips jerked up against yours, a hard pressure that made your own hips roll down in response.
he made that whimpering sound again in the back of his throat, and then he was moving, his hands sliding from your hips to your thighs, gripping them with a strength that surprised you. "backseat," he managed, his voice wrecked. "can't… steering wheel."
it was an awkward, graceless scramble. you nearly got a foot stuck in the cup holder, he banged his elbow on the center console, and you both collapsed in a tangle of limbs in the cramped space, laughing breathlessly into the dark.
the laughter died when he managed to kick a door shut, plunging the car into near-total darkness, illuminated only by the faint glow of a streetlight.
the silence was different now. heavy. expectant. you were facing him, and he was just looking at you. you couldn't make out the color of his eyes, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze, a physical touch that traced the line of your jaw, the curve of your throat.
"what?" you whispered, suddenly self-conscious.
"just…" his voice was a low rumble. "wondering if this is real."
you didn't answer with words. you reached for him, your hand finding the warm skin of his neck, your fingers tangling in the hair at his nape. you pulled him down to you, and this time the kiss was slow.
there was no rush, no frantic energy, just the slide of lips and tongues. he kissed like he wrote, with an intensity that left no room for misinterpretation, his tongue mapping yours, learning the shape of you.
his hand, which had been resting on your waist, began to move. it slid up, tracing the curve of your ribcage, his thumb stroking the side of your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt.
you arched into his touch, a silent invitation, and he took it, his palm cupping it and his thumb brushing over your nipple.
a soft sigh escaped you, and he swallowed the sound, kissing you harder.
his other hand joined the first, tugging at the hem of your shirt, and you broke the kiss just long enough to help him pull it over your head.
the cool air made your skin burst into goosbumps, and then his hands were back on you, tracing the lines of your bra, his thumbs hooking under the straps.
"can i?" he murmured, his lips against your shoulder.
you just nodded, your breath catching as he deftly unclasped it, sliding it down your arms.
he didn't immediately touch you again. he just looked, his gaze heavy enough to feel like he was. it should have been awkward, being half naked in the back of his car, but it wasn't.
"you're so…" he started, then seemed to lose the words, instead leaning down and pressing a kiss to the hollow of your throat, then lower, to the swell of your breast.
his mouth was hot, his tongue on your skin making you breathless. your hands reach out to tangle in his hair and he let out a small groan in response to the pressure.
he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, and your back arched off the seat, a small whimper tearing from your throat. "chris," you gasped, your hands tightening around his hair, holding him to you.
he hummed against your skin, a low, pleased sound, and his free hand went down your side, over your hip, to the button of your jeans.
he paused there, his fingers resting on the metal, waiting. you lifted your hips to help him and he quickly undid the button and zipper. he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your jeans and underwear, tugging them down.
you lifted your hips to help him, and he pulled them off, tossing them into the front seat. then he settled between your thighs, his shoulders pushing them wider.
then he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your inner thigh, right where the skin was thinnest and most sensitive. he did it again on the other side, and you were trembling, an uncontrollable shudder running through your entire body.
"please," you whispered. you didn't even know what you were begging for. he seemed to know.
he finally lowered his head, and the first touch of his tongue against you was so good it almost hurt. it was a slow, broad stroke, a taste, and then he was doing it again, his tongue going deeper, finding your clit and circling it with a precision that made your eyes roll back in your head.
he was learning you with his mouth, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as you began to squirm against him.
you were lost, your head thrown back, your hands fisted in his hair, your hips grinding against his face.
"chris," you gasped, "gonna come,"
he didn't stop. if anything, he went faster, sucking your clit into his mouth and giving it a gentle, rhythmic pressure with his tongue. you came with a sharp cry, your body convulsing.
when you finally came back to yourself, he was kissing his way back up your body, his movements slow and deliberate. he collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, and you turned to him, your limbs feeling weighed down.
you could feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against his jeans, and a surge of energy went through you.
your hand found his thigh, then slid up, palming him through the rough denim. he hissed, his hips bucking into your touch.
"you don't have to," he said, his voice strained.
"i want to," you replied, and it was the truest thing you'd ever said. you fumbled with his button and zipper, your fingers clumsy with desire.
he was hot and heavy in your hand, and you gave him an experimental stroke, from base to tip. a drop of pre-come beaded at the slit, and you swiped it away with your thumb, using it to help your hand.
you found a rhythm, slow and steady, and he was watching you, his eyes dark, his lips parted, his breath coming in harsh pants.
his hand came up to cover yours, not to stop you, but to guide you, to show you how he liked it, a little tighter, a little faster.
"like that," he groaned, his head falling back against the seat. "fuck, just like that."
you watched him, mesmerized by the way his face contorted with pleasure, the way his jaw went tight, the way his abs clenched with every stroke.
you could feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming more jumpy, his breathing more ragged.
he was letting out these sounds that made your stomach turn with desire. you wanted to see him fall apart. you wanted to be the one to do it.
"come for me, chris," you whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw. "i want to see it."
his breaths got harder and you could sense that he was getting closer, but he pulled your hand away suddenly. “no, no, can’t come yet…wanna be in you first”
his voice was ragged, thick with need.
you didn't hesitate, just shifted, moving over him in the cramped backseat. it was awkward, your knees bumping against the door, but you didn't care.
you positioned yourself over him, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance, still slick from his mouth.
you sank down slowly, taking him in inch by inch. the stretch was sweet, your head falling forward as you adjusted to the feeling of him filling you completely.
"fuck," he breathed, his hands flying to your hips, gripping you tight. "you feel... god, you feel perfect."
you started to move, a slow roll of your hips. it was a shallow movement at first, just feeling him inside you, the drag of him against your sensitive walls. his grip on your hips tightened, his thumbs pressing into your skin as he guided you, encouraging you to take him deeper.
you braced your hands on his shoulders, using the leverage to lift yourself up and then sink back down, taking him fully.
you found a rhythm, a steady rise and fall. the car rocked with you, a gentle, rhythmic creak of suspension that was the only sound besides your harsh breathing and the wet slap of skin on skin.
"chris," you gasped, your movements becoming more frantic, chasing the friction, the building pressure. "god, don't stop."
he didn't. he thrust up to meet you, his hips snapping upwards, driving into you with a new urgency. the angle changed, hitting a spot deep inside you that made your nails dig into his shoulders.
"right there?" he grunted, his voice strained. he did it again, a hard, deliberate thrust that had you seeing white. "there?"
"yes, yes, right there," you babbled, your words dissolving into incoherent moans.
he shifted one of his hands from your hip, sliding it between your bodies. his thumb found your clit, circling it with the same rhythm as his hips.
"come on," he urged, his voice a low growl against your ear. "come for me again. let me feel it."
your orgasm ripped through you, your body convulsing. you collapsed against his chest, boneless and trembling, as he continued to thrust into you, chasing his own release.
he held you close, his arms wrapped around your back, his face buried in your neck. his thrusts grew hasty, losing their rhythm as he got closer. his breath in harsh, ragged pants against your skin.
"look at me," he commanded, his voice rough. you lifted your head, your vision blurry, and met his gaze in the dim light. his eyes were dark, wild with need, locked on yours. "fuck, what a pretty girl…my pretty girl, huh?”
you whimper, feeling his hips stutter in you. with a final, guttural groan, he buried himself deep inside you, his body going rigid as he came. you could feel the hot flood of his release filling you. he held you there for a long moment, his body shuddering, his forehead resting against yours.
the only sound was your combined breathing, slowly returning to normal.
the air in the car was thick with the smell of sex and sweat, the windows fogged with condensation. he was still inside you, softening but not pulling away. you felt your body fill with exhaustion.
he kissed the top of your head gently. you stayed like that for a while, a tangled, sweaty mess in the backseat of his car, just breathing together in the darkness.
