warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, soft dom!chris, praise, hickeys, please let me know if i miss anything!
word count: 1.8k
my birthday writing marathon
you had told chris you didn’t want anything big for your birthday.
“i just want to be with you,” you’d said casually the week before, curled against his side on the couch, legs tangled, your voice muffled into the soft cotton of his hoodie. “no party. no stress. just… you and me.”
he’d nodded, warm lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “okay. just us.”
you should’ve known better. when it came to you, chris never did just anything.
so when you come home that evening, after a quiet walk to clear your head, leaving your phone behind like you sometimes do, you immediately sense the difference. the apartment smells like him: warm cotton, sandalwood, and a hint of something sweet, like vanilla and birthday cake. the hallway light is dimmed, and soft golden flickers spill out from under the bedroom door.
you step inside and freeze.
fairy lights wrap around the perimeter of the ceiling, glowing gently, casting a buttery warmth over everything. your shared bed is made perfectly, the navy sheets smooth, a plush cream throw folded at the foot. scattered across the walls, like a constellation only the two of you would understand, are dozens of polaroids. some of you laughing together in the kitchen, faces smeared with whipped cream. one of you asleep on his chest, mouth slightly open, his fingers curled around your hand. one of you kissing him in the passenger seat of his car, completely lost in the moment. your life, your love, captured in tiny, frozen frames.
you’re so overwhelmed you don’t even hear him at first.
“happy birthday,” chris says softly from the doorway.
you turn, breath catching in your throat.
he’s standing there in his sweats and a fitted black tee, barefoot, hair a little messy like he’s been running his fingers through it. his eyes scan your face like he’s memorizing your expression. like this, right here, is the moment he’s been waiting for.
“chris…” you breathe, turning fully to him. “i told you i didn’t want anything big.”
“this isn’t big,” he says, stepping closer, a soft smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “this is just… me loving you.”
he takes your hand and leads you to the bed, where a tiny portable speaker sits beside a flickering candle. he taps his phone, and music begins to play. low, dreamy, intimate. songs that feel like warm baths and stargazing and being kissed slowly in the rain.
“i made this for you,” he murmurs. “the playlist. all songs that remind me of you. or us.”
your eyes sting, throat tight with emotion.
“you’re gonna make me cry,” you whisper, laughing a little to cover it up.
he leans in, pressing a kiss just beneath your eye. “good tears only tonight.”
you sit down on the bed together. for a while, you just talk. about nothing and everything. he holds your hand the whole time, brushing his thumb over your knuckles, stealing glances like he can’t quite believe you’re real. when you laugh, he smiles like it's his favorite sound. when you look away, he looks longer, like trying to remember every detail of your profile in this soft, glowing light.
then, without a word, he reaches out and brushes your hair back behind your ear. his fingers linger along your jaw. the pad of his thumb drags gently across your cheek.
“you don’t have to do a thing tonight,” chris says, voice lower now, more intimate, eyes darkening slightly with something softer, heavier. “just lay back… and let me take care of you.”
that’s when the air shifts.
something tender but electric curls between you, the kind of warmth that pulses low in your belly and builds with every glance, every touch.
you lie back on the bed, your head cradled by soft pillows, the golden string lights casting a halo around chris as he hovers above you. his hands settle gently on either side of your body, grounding you. there’s nothing frantic in his touch, just warmth and presence, like he’s reminding you he’s here, he’s real, and this night is yours.
“you look so fucking beautiful right now,” he murmurs, almost in awe, his gaze tracing your face. “like… glowing.”
you laugh breathlessly, your fingers tugging lightly at the collar of his shirt. “you always say that.”
“yeah,” he smirks, leaning down, “because it’s always true.”
he kisses you again. slow and deep this time. his tongue grazes yours, unhurried, teasing, coaxing. one of his hands finds your waist, and the other cups your jaw, holding you steady as he devours you with a patience that makes your entire body burn.
every kiss feels like it means something. like it’s stitched with love.
chris trails those kisses down your jaw, to the hollow of your throat, letting his mouth open against your skin. he lingers there, sucking lightly, leaving a mark that makes your breath hitch and your thighs press together. he feels the motion immediately and hums into your skin.
“already?” he murmurs, brushing his lips lower, teasing at the edge of your collar. “you’re that turned on just from me kissing you?”
you don’t answer, you can’t. he’s already pulling your shirt up, slowly, reverently, baring your skin inch by inch. his hands slide under the fabric first, warm and steady on your waist, before he fully peels it off and tosses it aside.
he pauses when he sees you. shirtless, breathing unevenly, your body flushed in the dim glow.
“fuck,” he whispers. “you’re unreal.”
he leans down, his lips finding the sensitive spot just above your breast, kissing it softly. then lower. he takes his time with you. his tongue flicking teasingly over one nipple while his hand kneads the other gently. when you arch up into him, a quiet whimper spilling from your lips, he groans low in his throat.
“you like that?” he asks, voice gravelly now, watching your reaction closely. “tell me what you want, baby. it’s your night.”
“i want you,” you breathe. “all of you. just… don’t stop.”
his eyes flash, and he nods slowly.
“i won’t. i’m gonna take care of you. i promise.”
he kisses his way down your stomach, dragging his lips over your softest skin. every touch is worship—deliberate and gentle. he doesn’t rush. he touches like he’s memorizing, kissing like he’s thanking every inch of you for existing.
when he reaches the waistband of your bottoms, he looks up.
“can i?”
you nod, biting your lip, already breathless.
chris eases them down your legs, his eyes fixed on the way your thighs part for him. you feel so exposed, so open, but with him, there’s no shame. he makes you feel like a masterpiece.
he kisses your inner thigh first. then again, slower, closer to where you need him. you’re already wet, already aching, and he sees it with a groan.
“fuck, baby. look at you.”
he settles between your legs, warm breath ghosting over you, his hands anchoring your hips gently. his mouth presses to your center in a slow, teasing kiss, and your body jolts.
then he starts. his tongue soft and skilled, moving in gentle circles, flicking and curling in all the right places. he moans softly against you, like he can’t help himself, and the vibration shoots through you like lightning.
your fingers tangle in his hair, your back arching when he flattens his tongue and drags it through your folds. he takes his time, alternating between firm strokes and featherlight kisses, building you slowly, beautifully. he reads your body like he knows it better than his own, adjusting with every gasp and whisper.
“you taste so fucking good,” he murmurs, lips slick, voice wrecked. “could stay here all night.”
when you’re trembling, right at the edge, he brings two fingers to your entrance, easing them in carefully, curling them just right as his tongue works higher. you cry out, the pleasure overwhelming, your thighs clenching around his shoulders.
“that’s it, sweetheart,” he praises. “let go. let me feel you.”
and you do, falling apart under his mouth, your orgasm washing over you in slow, hot waves. chris holds you through it, not stopping until you’re shaking and pulling at his hair, your body too sensitive to take more.
he kisses your thighs as you come down, gentle and grounding, then moves up your body again. slower this time, almost shy.
“you okay?” he asks, brushing the hair from your face.
you nod, dazed and flushed. “better than okay.”
chris smiles and kisses you again. soft, lingering, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. then he gently presses his hips against yours, letting you feel how hard he is, how much he wants you.
“you sure?” he whispers.
you nod, wrapping your arms around his neck. “please.”
he takes his time undressing fully, letting you watch, his body lean and warm and familiar. when he lines himself up with you, he moves slowly, watching your face, holding you close as he slides in inch by inch.
the stretch is perfect, filling you completely, and he groans into your neck as he bottoms out, his arms shaking slightly.
“you feel like heaven,” he breathes. “so tight. so perfect.”
he stays still for a moment, just holding you, letting you adjust. his forehead resting against yours, breath hot on your cheek.
then he moves. gently. rhythmically.
his hips roll against yours in a slow, perfect, no rush, no pounding urgency, just deep, sweet connection. every thrust hits exactly where you need him, your bodies made for each other, moving in sync.
he whispers to you the whole time.
“you’re everything to me.”
“i love you so much it hurts.”
“i want to make you feel this good forever.”
you moan his name, over and over, your nails digging into his back, his skin slick and warm under your touch. the pleasure builds again, slower this time, more intense, a burning ache that spreads through every nerve.
“i’m close,” you whisper, your voice shaking.
“me too, baby. cum with me,” he murmurs. “please.”
when you cum, your bodies are pressed so close it feels like there’s no space between you. your legs wrap around his waist, your heart pounding against his, and he follows you seconds later, moaning your name into your shoulder as he falls apart inside you.
he collapses gently, pulling you into his arms as he breathes heavily, lips pressed to your temple.
nothing else exists but the two of you.
and when the world slowly returns, when your breaths even out and your fingers find his again, he murmurs:
“you’re mine. always.”
you smile, your voice hoarse and full of love. “happy birthday to me.”
────────────୨ৎ────────────
aurora's notes: and we're back at it! another writing marathon for you!! <3
- aurora ᯓ✮⋆˙
likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! ੈ✩‧₊˚
“dont make it weird.” you grumble. you could already feel the embarrassment rush through your neck and up to your cheeks when chris decided to get ‘comfortable’ every few seconds. just a bit too often.
“y’know i cant promise y’that, ma.” he whispers, careful enough not to let his brothers hear. once he grabs your attention, he softly moves his hands around your waist and down to your thighs. “cant help myself.”
he grins at the feeling of your skin trembling. your breath becoming more shallow by each breath. “chris,” you quickly grab his wrist, stopping him from getting closer to somewhere he shouldnt be. “not here.”
“i’ll be quick, yeah?” the feeling of chris’ lips against your neck makes your stomach flutter. you couldn’t help but subconsciously lean into his touch. he watches the car mirror closely—making sure you werent in the view. “fuck,” you sigh.
he moves one of his hands up to your jaw, leaning your head back against his shoulder before fully covering your mouth. “be quiet, ma.” his voice barely above a whisper as he speaks to you. you nod your head in response and he doesnt waste any time.
with his free hand, he carefully unbuttons your jeans. you lift your hips up and he slides them down smoothly. without a word, he plants his thumb against your clit, rubbing small circles in a slow pace.
you let out a muffled moan against his palm—his hand applying pressure to your face as a warning. “quiet.” he watches as your chest rises faster every second, as well as his fingers.
thankfully, the noise of the radio playing a song you cant quite focus on at the moment, is drowning out your soft cries. you begin to panic when chris enters his fingers inside of you. a muffled—but loud whimper, slips from your lips.
chris’ eyes snap open as you whimper—snapping him out of his short but amazing dream. a dream where he didnt have to be hiding your sweet moans. a dream where he has you bent over his bed as he fucks you from behind.
he groans softly when you start moving your hips against him. your body burning up impossibly hotter when you move against his bulge.
he notices when you begin to get hesitant, when you begin to move slower, and when you begin to get nervous. he tightens his grip on your thighs and pulls your head back slightly. just close enough for him to whisper in your ear.
“do you feel it?” he groans.
you try and nod, but the feeling of his fingers curling inside you while you grind against him is insanely distracting. “do you feel it rubbing up against you?” he says with a grin.
you let out a choked sob at his words, your stomach tightening when he finds a spot that sends you over the edge. you moan; completey oblivious about the fact that nick and matt where in the same car as you.
“i asked you a question,” he somewhat growls, his fingers moving in a faster rhythm. “cmon.”
“mmmhm—“ you cry. the knot in your stomach bursting at his unbearable pace, along with the bumpy road. your orgasm washes over you like a wave. you throw your head back against his shoulder and sob into the palm of his hand.
he removes his fingers and slowly sucks his fingers clean before removing his other hand from your face. your lips wet and open slightly as you tried to catch your breath. “s’good f’me.”
as you try and catch your breath, chris cant ignore the fact that he’s painfully hard. right. now. he throws his head back against the car seat and moves his hands up and under your shirt.
you look back at him with hooded eyes. your cheeks flushed a faint pink. “chris—“ as you look back at him, you cant help but feel, and notice how desperate he is.
“help me—please.. mama?,”
a/n: . . . this idea came to me when i saw an edit of him saying this to nick on stream like wtfff im wet. #needthat
chris bucked his hips up to your hand that held the vibrator firmly, grunting at the overwhelming sensation.
as spurs of white liquid began to drip onto the mattress beneath where he lay, he grabbed your hand that held the device, pulling it away from him.
he rested his head against the bed, catching his breath as he stared straight ahead at the ceiling.
he turned his head to look at you, your hand still holding the vibrator, before reaching for it himself.
he quietly watched as the device electrified in his hands, the sound of its whirring filling the otherwise quiet room. he wiped the outside of it with the hem of his shirt, before turning it up to its maximum setting.
he sat up, bringing the roaring device down towards your legs, watching as you yelped from the unexpected sensation—remnants of his white lust dripping onto your matching heat.
notes ⋆. 𐙚 ₊˚ i felt bad to ignore this anon request, but i’m also horrible at writing smut and i physically cannot read / write for sub!chris, so sorry that this is the shortest thing ever, i tried 😭
cw: friends to lovers, smut, overstimulation, fingering, cum eating, cute happy ending
main masterlist for more fanfic reads 💙
You’ve been seated in Chris’s lap for who knows how long, slender fingers fishing through his locks like there's something you're trying to get to.
“I swear, he was so cute, y’know? Innocently charming.” You ramble about your most recent date like you aren't in Chris’s lap. Like you don't always come back to him in the end.
Chris only nods, only pretends to be listening to what you're saying. He can't help but smirk at your words though, As if you'll be dating anyone else.
He knows you're his. He knows and doesn't have to do anything to solidify it. You'll claim and babble on about how he's the “best friend” you could ever ask for, but just the slightest touch and you're putty in his arms.
Best friends don't react like that.
Best friends don't have what they have.
Chris lifts his hand, using his fingers to tuck your hair behind your ear—then to cup your chin.Your whole body stutters at his touch. There it is, the exact reaction he knew you'd have for him.
“Do you like me?” Chris blurts out, scanning your face with those blue eyes of his, always bleary and absolutely beautiful.
“W-what? I mean, yeah, of course I like you! As um, as a friend of course. Friends have to like each other.” You splutter, spine straightening automatically like he just asked you a question he's about to take for a grade.
“Oh sweetheart,” Chris chuckles, leaning in closer so that you can feel his heated breath as he speaks on your lips.
“You know exactly what I mean,” he hums, twirling a strand of your hair.
“I—i have no idea what you're talking about.” you stammer, and suddenly the whole room becomes way more interesting then the boy’s face currently inches from yours.
“I mean, do you like me? Simple as that, pretty.” he drawls, “Just a question.”
“Well, if you mean um, like, like liking you? Then definitely not—we.. we're just friends.” You breathe, tenser than someone would be if they were being truthful.
Is it getting hot in here? Because it certainly feels like it.. It's getting a little cramped.
“Y’sure? You're so tense, sweet. Why's that?” Chris taunts, lips inches from yours.
“Um.. um. I don't know.. just i—it's hot, yeah.. its a little hot in here.” You croak, feeling your hands get clammy. Why are your hands so clammy?
“Sweetheart, it's okay if you do,” he grins, moving his lips to your ear. “In fact, that'd be quite interesting, hm? Liking your best friend, what a trope.”
Your breath hitches, eyes going hazy at his words. What is happening?
Chris takes your response as a sign to continue, tentatively pressing a kiss next to your ear before nipping at your earlobe.
You gasp, jolting at the sensation, “Chris?” you whisper, voice trembling with different emotions.
“Baby, relax, you're so jumpy.” Chris teases, hand creeping up your spine to thread through your hair.
His lips reach your neck, licking and suckling little marks onto your smooth flesh. The heat in your lower abdomen only builds, pooling slowly like honey poured on oatmeal, building and building until it becomes a thick slurry of want and need.
“Chris.. god—I think I really need you..” you murmur, shielding your face with your hands.
“Pretty girl, don't hide. Can't take care of you if I don't know what you need,” he hums, pulling your hands out of your face and replacing them with his lips, covering your face with slow kisses.
“Just—please..” You croak, guiding his hand to your clothed core. “I need you..”
“Fuck.. baby. You have me, I'm here.” Chris breathes, moving his hands to slowly pull down your shorts.
You whimper weakly, tugging on the hem of your panties like he can't undress you fast enough.
“Relax, sweetheart, so impatient.” Chris snickers, tossing your shorts to the floor and moving to do the same with the thin cloth separating your most intimate part from him.
His fingers trace your slit, dipping into your folds and swirling around your sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Fuck—Chris!” You gasp, your hips bucking against his fingers as he plays with your clit.
“Yeah, baby? Feels so good hm?” he murmurs, before slowly pushing the digits inside of you.
Your hand grips his free one, your hold tightening as you let out a choke at the feeling.
“Aw, you're so, so sensitive, sweetheart.. It's so pretty seein’ you squirm.” Chris coos, curling his fingers and hitting your G-spot.
“C-chris.. mmh—gonna cum..” You hiccup, gripping his hand and biting your lip to stifle your moans.
“Y’gonna cum? Already? You can hold out a little longer, can't you?” Chris hums, pumping his fingers in and out quicker.
“I—I think so? I'll try..” You tremble, squeezing your eyes to concentrate on holding it off.
Chris continues to drive his digits through your pulsing cunt, ripping a cry from your lips.
You try, you try so so hard, but it's too good. You cling to his hand, your hips jerking and body trembling as you cum on his fingers.
“Baby, I thought you said you’d hold it?” Chris questions in a disapproving tone.
“I—I tried.. I just needed it too bad..” You whine softly, trembling under his touch. Instead of him withdrawing his fingers, he only pumps them faster, circling your clit with his thumb.
“Chris! Nngh—too s-sensitive.. please—can’t take it.” you croak, jolting at his touch but not pulling away. Your body betrays you, rolling up into his digits instead of retracting.
“Aw, but sweetheart, you said you wanted it so bad.. I'm just giving you more. More is always better, right?” Chris grins, his smile bordering on evil as he continues to play with you like you're his favorite toy.
He doesn't let up, not for a second. Even when you're squirming, crying out for him to stop and give you more at the same time, he just holds your hips in place and continues to plunge into you.
And when you're right there—right on the edge, he gives you everything. He wants to make you cum, he wants to be the reason why you're feeling so much pleasure.
“Cumming!” You whimper, hips bucking pathetically before you release on his fingers for a second time today, biting your lip so hard it almost bleeds.
Chris withdraws his fingers, bringing them up to his lips and licking them clean. The sight has your hips twitching weakly, heat already pooling in your stomach again.
“That was—wow..” you murmur quietly, trembling as you look up at him.
“Now do you admit that you like me?” Chris teases, ignoring the obvious strain in his pants.
“Chris—is that really what you care about right now?” you laugh incredulously, scoffing before pulling him close.
“I could help you with that, if you need me to..” You say quietly, noticing the strain in his pants.
“Nah, it'll go down. Right now’s about you.”
You sigh, curling into his arms, thoughts and questions swirling in your head, before you settle on one thought; the only one that matters in the moment.
Chris is above you, lips on yours, hips slapping against your thighs, cock going so deep you’re whimpering into his mouth. His hands are on the top of your head, keeping it from slamming into the bedframe as your body slides up the bed with each deep, hard thrust.
He breaks the kiss and looks into your eyes as he fucks you, keeping eye contact, making your pussy flutter around his cock. His eyes drop down to your stomach and a soft groan forms in his throat when he sees the bulge he’s creating with his cock.
"Fuuck... You look so pretty like this..." He murmurs, his eyes snapping back to your face, watching as tears of pleasure run down it. Your mouth is open in a silent scream, eyes almost rolling back, fluttering, as you try your best to keep looking into his eyes.
He loved making you cry—not from sadness but from overwhelming pleasure. And he would never get tired of seeing your stomach convex with the shape of his dick.
Chris doesn’t hesitate to bring you whatever you want from the kitchen after wrecking you. He’d get up, haphazardly slip on his sweats, maybe adjust his dick so his brothers wouldn’t notice it being half-hard, and walk out of his room.
He’s back not even five minutes later, a few snacks in hand, your favorite drink tucked under his arm, his other hand holding a fluffy, damp towel to wipe you down.
"Just lay back, baby." Chris smiles—the soft one you think looks so fitting on him.
He wipes between your legs, careful around your thoroughly fucked pussy, making sure he’s extra gentle with you. He opens one of the drawers under his bed, taking your cotton panties and helping you wear it.
After cleaning you up and making sure you were alright. He gets into bed beside you, opening your can of soft drink for you even though you’re insisting you can do it yourself. And he knows you can do it yourself, he just wants to take care of his girl.
"Just let me take care of my baby." He coos, the soft smile still on his lips as he tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear.
dbf!chris having fun with younger!reader in the pool
warnings: fingering, no pinv, light dirty talk, use of the term slut (endearing), misuse of a pool jet
chris wasn’t normally the type of guy who was too adventurous with his sexual encounters. sometimes there would be toys in the bedroom but he wasn’t really used to much more than that. he never really felt the need to.
knowing this about himself, he never thought there’d be a day where somebody he was sexually involved with would need something else to get off with. never until you. not until your weekend trip to a small cabin he had rented for his birthday.
he wasn’t upset and his ego wasn’t damaged, but he was more intrigued than anything. he was just so damn curious as to why you had been sticking so close to the wall the whole time.
as he flipped the burger on the grill, his eyes drifted towards you in that swimsuit. that tiny little swimsuit he had bought you earlier that month to tell you about the trip to begin with. the way your breasts sat in the top half was a sight worth remembering, and the way that there was practically nothing left to the imagination just made it better.
“what are y’doin?” chris yells, sliding the patty onto a nearby plate before making his way over to you by the edge of the pool. he notices the way that your eyes widen at the sight of him and the way your breath gets stuck in your throat.
“n-nothing! nothing im just… here.” you mumble nervously, moving slightly to the side of where you previously were. his eyes dart to your previous spot, noticing the way the pools jet makes bubbles rise to the top. chris’ smirk widens as he hops into the pool with you, wrapping an arm around your waist.
“i think you’re lyin to me… naughty girl.” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck and working his way down to your barely covered boobs. “go ahead n move back to your little spot for me doll.” chris’ tone is sweet and stern at the same time. you can’t help but listen. you sigh quietly as you turn around to be positioned the same way you were, gasping quietly as the water hits right on your clothed clit. chris smiles behind you as he slips a hand down your swim bottoms, teasing your entrance with two of his fingers. “there y’go…attagirl...”
chris can’t help but let a small groan leave his throat as he slips to fingers inside you, watching your reaction as best as he could. “m-more…” you whimper, pushing your ass up against chris. he huffs as his fingers go further up inside you, curling against the spot he knew you liked. “please, chris, more…” you whine again, smirking slightly when you feel chris grow hard against you.
“y’want more? little slut… using the jet to get y’self off when you knew i was here. don’t worry baby, i’m gonna take real good care of ya okay?”
✧˚ · .⭒ summary: chris has an unexpected reaction when he figures out the spicy photos you gave him for his birthday were taken by his brother!
gifs by @/vxnitra
dividers by @/enchanthings
album concept creds to @/delilahsturniolo and inspired by @/y2kstarr and her hot pink marathon
[ click to return to track list ]
Imagine
"I don't know how you talked me into this," you chuckled, your eyes flicking up at Matt, your boyfriend's brother. You were lying on your side on your bed in black, lace lingerie, propping your head up with your left hand as you stared into Matt's camera lens.
"This is the perfect birthday gift. Chris is gonna love these," Matt murmured, admiring you through the view finder. You rolled your eyes, trying not to blush.
You'd been going back and forth for weeks about what to do for your boyfriend, Chris, for his birthday, and you'd finally settled on the idea of a boudoir photoshoot. You'd almost hired a professional, but Matt had a nice camera. He agreed to take the pictures, edit them, and get them printed for free, so how could you refuse?
The afternoon sun was peeking through your blinds, casting a golden glow over your body as Matt pressed down on the button, triggering the sound of the shutter to release. He was trying his hardest to maintain his professionalism, but he couldn't deny how much he liked looking at you like this.
"Now get on your hands and knees and pop your leg up," Matt directed you. You did as he said, your red heel pointing towards the ceiling. "Good, now arch your back a little and stick your ass up," he told you.
"Matt!" You exclaimed, your face growing warm.
"Hey, I'm just trying to get some good pictures," he said defensively. "Isn't that what you wanted?" You scoffed, but you followed his instructions. "Fuck. That's perfect. Just like that," he replied in a voice just above a whisper, his eyes scanning over your curves and the way the positions he had you in accentuated them.
It was obvious that he was enjoying this a little more than he should, considering you were his brother's girlfriend. You, too, were enjoying being oggled by him more than you knew Chris would be comfortable with, but you couldn't help the way his words made your stomach flutter.
Matt lowered the camera for a moment, the gears in his head turning about how he could spice up the shoot a bit. "We should do a few where you're on your back, and you spread your legs a little," Matt suggested, taking a step closer to you.
"Spread my legs while I'm wearing sheer, black lace?" You chuckled. "I wanted these to be classy, not slutty."
"They are classy. Relax. It's not like I'm taking pictures of your bare pussy," he snarked back, rolling his eyes and placing his camera down on your dresser.
You could feel your cheeks heat up as that word fell from his lips. You obeyed him, situating yourself on your back and slightly opened your legs.
"Kind of," Matt responded, "I was thinking more like this."
Matt towered over you, grabbing your legs, pressing your knees up against your chest, and spreading them. Your breath hitched as he held you in this position for a second too long. "There. Good girl. Now stay just like that," Matt softly said, reaching for his camera.
He knew what he was doing, calling you that.
He watched your face soften, and your eyes twinkle with lust in response to the way he was speaking to you. You were so grateful to be wearing black, so Matt couldn't see how wet you were getting.
He snapped a few more photos, taking them from different angles and playing around with the flash to see what looked best. Matt lowered his camera again, his gaze dancing over you and taking you in like you were in this position just for him.
"You have goosebumps," he commented, running the tips of his fingers along your arm. You shivered at his touch.
"Yeah, I'm just cold," you lied, hoping he wouldn't mention your hardening nipples.
"You look incredible, by the way. My brother is so lucky," Matt whispered, pointing the camera at you again. As a natural smile curled across your lips, Matt captured another photo of you.
"You know, Chris would kill us both if he knew you took these pictures," you told him.
"Well, it'll be our little secret then, won't it?" Matt replied, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his lip. "If he asks who took them, just tell him one of your friends did it."
A lump formed in your throat before you swallowed it. You didn't like the idea of lying to Chris, but you knew the alternative would be to pay hundreds of dollars to a professional boudoir photographer or to have to admit that his own brother had taken them. You didn't particularly like either of those options, so you knew you had to keep it from him.
"Let's get a few of you on your knees," Matt told you.
"Like this?" You asked, kneeling on the bed.
"I was thinking of having you in that position on the floor while you look up into the camera," he pointed down at a spot on the ground in front of him.
You shot him a skeptical look, standing to your feet. "You want a picture of me on my knees in front of you?"
"C'mon. Chris will love it. Get on your knees," he growled, his voice taking on a more dominant tone. You rolled your eyes, but you listened, dropping down in front of him.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lip as he peered down at you through the view finder, your big eyes fixed on the lens. His jeans grew tighter the longer he looked at you in this position. He snapped some pictures before reaching down and cradling your face.
"Matt!" You laughed, lightly batting his hand away. "You can't be in the picture at all."
"Relax, baby. This one's just for me," he seductively told you, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. You knew the way he was touching you was dangerous, but you didn't stop him.
Your heart pouded as Matt pushed his thumb into your mouth, tucking it behind your lips. You gently sucked on it with your eyes locked onto the camera. He snapped a photo of you, smiling as he captured the sensual moment. You couldn't hide the way your cheeks heated up at his gesture, arousal rippling through you.
However, you broke free from the trance he held you in, and you quickly pulled away, the lustful look in your eyes shifting to an annoyed one. "Come on, Matt. Let's get back to the photoshoot," you responded.
"Oh my god, babe," Chris gasped, his eyes widening as he studied the printed photos of you that you'd just gifted him. "These are amazing." He flipped through them, admiring everything - the lighting, the way you were dressed, the poses you were in.
"You like them?" You giggled, batting your lashes as you stood beside him.
"Of course I do. Who took these? They look so professional," he responded. Your eyes widened for a second, and you cleared your throat. You considered lying to him, but you just couldn't, so instead, you just completely disregarded the question.
"I just wanted to do something special for your birthday. I'm glad you like them!" You exclaimed, giving him a peck on the cheek.
"You're the best," Chris replied, setting the photos down on the marble counter and picking you up in his arms. You squealed as he twirled you in a circle and pressed his soft lips against yours.
It wasn't until later that night when he was looking over the pictures of you again that he noticed something about them. He was perched in his gaming chair at his desk, and you were curled up on his bed, sleeping soundly in one of his t-shirts and your underwear.
Chris' eyes flicked over to the mirror in one of the photos. There he was. He couldn't unsee him after that. The man who took the picture. The camera covered most of his features, but Chris would recognize his own brother anywhere.
That's when he noticed the rings he was wearing, the silver jewelry reflecting in the mirror of your vanity, and he knew for sure who the photographer was. He wanted to shake you awake and ask you what the hell you were thinking when having his brother take half-naked pictures of you. Instead, he decided to do the next closest thing.
Matt was in his room behind his closed door. He laid unsuspectingly under the covers in the glow of the lamp on his bedside table, your photo in one hand and his other beneath the blanket, fist wrapped around his cock.
Moans spilled from his lips, filling the empty space of his bedroom as he fervently stroked his length. His breathing and heartrate were both erratic as he fixed his eyes on yours in the picture and the way your perfect lips perfectly engulfed his thumb, remembering how good it had felt in the moment.
That's when the door flung open and Chris stood in the entryway, his jaw clenched and his fists balled up at his sides. Matt jumped, fumbling with the photo and his cock as he tried to conceal what he was doing. Chris approached him, snatching the printed photo out of his hand and taking a closer look at it.
"Are you fucking kidding me? You took these of my girlfriend? I can see why I didn't get a copy of this one, huh?" Chris' voice boomed, breaking his brother out of his fantasies. Matt's heart was still thrumming away in his ears as he tried to think of an excuse, his dick throbbing at the loss of contact.
"I-I just offered to take some pictures for her," Matt defended himself, sitting upright in his bed.
Chris' angry stare bore through him. "Did you fuck my girlfriend?" Chris asked calmly.
"No, dude. I swear. This picture is as far as it went," Matt responded, trying to catch his breath.
"You better not be lying to me," Chris glared at him.
"I know that I definitely crossed a line taking those pictures, but I wouldn't help your girlfriend cheat on you," Matt told him, his voice sounding genuine.
Chris let out a long exhale, his expression softening. His jealousy started to dissipate, his long fingers combing through his brown hair as he stared down at the picture.
"So you didn't fuck my girlfriend?" Chris clarified, glancing up at his brother for a second. Matt shook his head no, his cheeks still flushed with embarrassment from being walked in on.
Chris' gaze fell back to the photo, suddenly feeling a jolt of arousal he couldn't explain. There was a sick and twisted part of him that was hoping Matt had answered that question differently. He flicked the photo back at Matt, hitting him in the arm with the corner of the picture.
"Do you want to?" Chris wondered, nibbling on his lip.
Matt's eyebrows flew up in shock, and his jaw dropped. "Is that a trick question?"
Suddenly, you felt yourself being shaken awake. You groaned, rolling over, eyes slowly fluttering open. Chris was standing over you, his features bathed in the dim glow of the lamp. His head was tilted to the side, and a smile curled on his lips as you started to wake up.
"Hmm?" You grunted, wondering why he was looking at you like that. A few seconds of silence ensued as Chris searched your face, trying to read your expression, the anticipation building.
"So, when were you gonna tell me that Matt took those pictures?" He finally asked.
"Chris. I can explain -" you started to say, but he cut you off, placing a hand over your mouth.
"You don't need to. All you need to do is wish my brother a happy birthday and pay him back for those pictures he took of you," Chris replied, his gaze darkening.
You gave him a perplexed look, knitting your eyebrows together in confusion. Suddenly, Matt came into view, appearing behind Chris.
"Get on your knees," your boyfriend ordered you, "just like you were posing in this picture." Chris released his grip on you and presented you with the photo that Matt had kept for himself. You were at a loss for words. You couldn't deny that it was you and that it was Matt's thumb in your mouth.
"I-I," you started to say, but the words got caught in your throat. "Is this a joke?" You managed to choke out, scoffing and rolling your eyes.
"No. I won't say it again. Drop the attitude and get on your knees," Chris repeated himself through clenched teeth. "If you're gonna play around behind my back, surely you can do it in front of me, yeah?"
You did as he said, climbing off of his bed and kneeling down on the floor in front of his brother. Your stomach fluttered as you heard the sound of Matt's belt buckle falling open. Your gaze dropped to his fingers as he unfastened the button of his jeans and lowered his zipper, the moment happening in slow motion. Your face softened and a look of desire flickered over your expression as he started to reach into his pants for his hardening cock.
Chris could see the change in demeanor, the way you went from bratty to obedient in a matter of seconds as you sat there on your knees, waiting for a cock to be presented to you. He let out a mean chuckle.
"Fucking slut. You love this, don't you?" Chris barked, leaning up against his desk and shaking his head. Your eyes shifted to him for a moment, not sure if you were supposed to be honest or if you were supposed to pretend you hated it. "Come on, wish my brother a happy birthday. I know you want to."
You glanced back up at Matt, your big doe eyes locking onto his. His cock twitched at the thought of what he and Chris had agreed upon the other room. He could hardly wait to show you.
"Happy birthday, Matt," you told him, your voice trembling a bit as you spoke, trying not to seem too excited.
He smiled down at you, his cock springing out of the restrictive fabric. Your eyes shot open as he wrapped his fingers around the base of his length, guiding it towards your face. He reached down and gently tipped your chin up a bit.
The tip was pink and slick with a clear fluid pooling at his slit, and he gently slapped it against your bottom lip a few times, sending waves of pleasure through his cock. He moaned softly at the sensation.
"Wrap your mouth around it," Matt cooed in a sweet voice, placing a hand on the back of your head and pushing his mushroom-shaped tip past your full lips. He slowly protruded his hips, watching his length disappear behind your pout, a guttural moan filling the room.
"Suck," Matt urged you, combing his fingers through your hair and pulling you further onto his cock. You listened to him, creating suction on his sensitive tip. He drove his hips forward more, hitting the back of your throat and watching your eyes glaze over.
"Fuck," Matt moaned as you hummed around his shaft, sending vibrations through his lower body, his head falling back and his lips slightly parting. His grip in your hair tightened as he started to rock his hips faster.
Chris watched from a few feet away, a smug smile present on his face, arousal rippling through him as his body temperature started to rise.
"It's like she was made for sucking cock, huh?" Chris chuckled, his hand flying to the bulge in his sweats. His brother nodded in agreement, his gaze locked on yours as tears formed in your eyes. He'd always secretly fantasized about this, getting head from his brother's girlfriend, but he didn't think it'd actually happen, and he didn't know you'd take it so fucking well.
Matt's breath was steadily growing quicker and louder as you worked your mouth on him, bobbing your head up and down. He peered down at you with a desperate expression, his eyes heavily hooded with lust and desire as the sound of you gagging on him filled the room.
"Choke on it. Good fuckin' girl," he rasped. He was already getting close, his knees growing weak and the knot in his stomach pulling tight. Moans escaped his lips, coming out it a much less hindered fashion. He made a makeshift ponytail with his fist, guiding your movements on his cock as he chased the incredible feeling.
Chris was now openly stroking himself through the cotton fabric as he watched you from a perspective he never had before. He liked watching you give Matt attention, but he couldn't deny that he was feeling a bit deprived himself.
"Stop. Get on the bed," Chris demanded, taking a step forward. You paused for a moment, slipping Matt's length out from behind your lips, triggering a disappointed sigh from him. You stood to your feet before crawling onto the bed, Chris' stare burning through you.
You couldn't quite read his expression or predict what he was going to do next. You weren't sure if he was going to scold you for liking it.
"How would you like to suck me off," Chris started off as he stood in front of you, reaching to unravel the string on his sweats, "while Matt fucks you silly?" Your eyes widened as the suggestion fell from his lips, eagerly nodding on your hands and knees. Your heart raced as well as your imagination, your pussy already clenching around nothing.
"Well, don't seem too eager to fuck my brother," Chris chuckled, surprised by how little coaxing that took.
You watched your boyfriend tug down the waistband of his sweatpants and his boxers, his cock recoiling as he set it free. You could feel the bed shift under Matt's weight as he positioned himself behind you, his hands tracing the curves of your waist as he started to pull down your panties.
Matt removed the flimsy fabric from your lower body, and his hand came down with a heavy smack on your round ass. You let out a startled squeal. Matt watched in amusement as your skin rippled. Chris grabbed onto the sides of your face, steering his smooth, glistening head towards your lips.
"Stick out of your tongue," Chris purred, smiling down at you as his chest rose and fell with his quickening breath. You did as he said, and he started tapping the tip against it, exciting all the sensitive nerve endings in his cock.
As you looked into your boyfriend's eyes, you could feel Matt prodding around you from behind, gently dragging a finger along your slit. "Fuck, you're so wet already," Matt gasped, enjoying that you'd gotten so turned on just from sucking him off.
You circled Chris' swollen, pink tip with your tongue, slowly spreading your legs open further and waiting in anticipation to be filled at both ends. Matt drew his tip along your slick folds, teasing your entrance before roughly pushing it in. Your jaw fell open at the unexpected stretch, and Chris took this as an invitation to slip his cock all the way into your mouth.
Matt grabbed your hips and started pistoning into you at a faster pace, causing you to hum around the other brother's length. Chris moaned in response. You could feel your walls tightening around Matt's thick cock, creating an even more pleasurable experience for both of you.
"Your pussy feels so good," Matt groaned from behind you, buried deep inside. "You're the perfect birthday present, you know that?"
With every snap of his hips, Matt jolted you forward onto Chris' cock, making it twitch in your mouth as your tongue grazed the veins on the backside. Chris knitted his eyebrows together, shutting his eyes and contorting his face into a look of sheer bliss.
You arched your back, taking Chris deeper into your mouth and Matt deeper into your pussy. The lewd sounds of pleasured moans and slapping skin filled your ears.
They each tossed you back and forth in different directions between the two of them as they each picked up the pace of their thrusts. Your vision grew blurry as you started to gag on Chris' length. He stared down lovingly at you, brushing a strand of hair out of your face and caressing your cheek as a tear rolled down.
"Fuck yeah. Look at you. Taking two cocks at once," Chris whispered breathlessly, in love with the sight. They loved sharing you this way, using you as a double-ended sleeve that was molded solely for their collective pleasure.
The way Chris spoke to you and touched you coupled with the feeling of Matt's tip ramming into your gspot over and over again started to send you over the edge. You trembled, your legs and arms growing shaky as you desperately tried to anchor yourself to the bed. You dug into the bedding beneath you, white knuckling the sheets as your orgasm ran its course.
Your pleasure bubbled over as you released. You clenched rhythmically around Matt's cock, coating him in your fluids, his length slipping in and out of you more easily now. Chris knew exactly what was happening, the way your body was responding and the sounds you were making around his shaft.
"That's it. Such a perfect little slut. Cum on Matt's cock for me, hmm?" Chris urged you, witnessing the fight leave your body as you surrendered yourself over to the sensation.
Both brothers came undone at the same time, the pressure in the pit of their stomachs building to a breaking point. Their grunts echoed in your ears as they pumped you full at both ends, their thrusts beginning to slow as they fucked you through the aftershocks.
"Oh, my god," Matt breathlessly chuckled, completely satisfied and still in shock that his own brother had shared his girlfriend with him. They each pulled out of you, their sticky, hot cum leaking out of you and spilling onto Chris' sheets.
"Shit. You're such a good little cock sleeve, aren't you? Just the perfect birthday gift," Chris whispered as he peered down at your face.
"She is," Matt agreed, spreading you open and staring down at your pretty, ruined pussy. He smiled at the way his white substance was still slowly seeping from you with every clench. "The gift that keeps on giving."
a/n: i'm sorry it took me so long to come out with this fic, but i guess it worked out bc it's the triplets' actual birthday today!
cw: sub!matt, needy, humiliation, dom!reader, hand job, cum eating
Matt masterlist ○ main masterlist
the request here!
Matt has been needy all day, squirming like no one's business and clinging to you like you'd disappear in a puff of smoke.
At first, you just thought it was one of his more clingy days, sometimes he just needs a little extra cuddle, which is not an uncommon occurrence.
But the first big tell that he wasn't just clingy—but actually needy was when you felt the unmistakable feeling of something hard rutting against your thigh as you were wrapped up in each other.
“Matt, what—what are you doing?” You ask, gazing at him with confused eyes, like you were suspicious.
The ghost of a movement stills immediately as you draw your attention, and Matt squeaks out a small “Nothing!”
You knew this was a lie. It couldn't be just nothing, and you were slowly connecting all of the dots.
You lift the blanket, your eyes falling to the obvious bulge tenting in his pants.
“Baby, are you... hard?” You question, the corners of your lips tugging into a smile as you watch his flustered chaos take action.
“I—no! Yes! No..” Matt splutters, jolting away from you to grab a pillow and cover his straining arousal.
“I didn't mean too.. you're just so soft and pretty and I can't believe you want to cuddle with me.. I don't know why I got all.. worked up.” Matt pouts, tipping his head to the pillow now covering his lap as his cheeks burn flush with shame.
“All hard just cuz we're cuddling? Kinda pathetic, don't you think?” You tease, your fingers creeping up his leg.
His breath hitches, vocal chords threatening to emit a moan already. “Yeah.. pathetic..” he breathes.
“And what? You want me to take care of you now, like you're a baby? Can't do anything for yourself?” You hum, locking your eyes onto his own desperate blue ones.
Matt only squeaks, his hips jutting forward to show you how much he needs you. “please..”
“You think a small ‘please’ is gonna do it for me? You think I'm just going to give into your every whim?”
“N-no..”
“Then come on,” You scoff, letting out a mocking laugh. “Do what you do best, beg.”
Matt whimpers loudly, looking at you with the most pathetic frown and watery eyes “please, please ma’.. need you—need you to touch me everywhere, please..”
He continues to beg, beg for anything—your hand, your mouth, even just your words he would be happy with. He's so needy you can't take it, and with every plea he emits the heat in your gut only intensifies
“You want my hand baby, you'll get my hand.” You hum with an evil smirk, and with that facial expression he knows; he's in for it now.
You practically claw off his sweats, tossing them to the floor and cupping him through his boxers before doing the same to the thin material.
As soon as the undergarment is off, his cock springs up—slapping his stomach with a small ‘smack’ as your gaze tilts to the flush in his tip.
He's already leaking for you, pre-cum pouring down his shaft in intermittent trickles.
As soon as your hand wraps around his dick, you can hear him yelp, hips thrusting roughly into your grasp like it was a reflex.
“Easy baby, not gonna make you feel good if you think you can do it yourself.” You warn, hand loosening around him to further your point.
“M’sorry—sorry..” He whimpers quietly, hands fisting the sheets in frustration and need when he feels your hand loosen.
“Such a needy boy, don't forget to be good, bad boys don't get anything.” You grunt, before tightening your hold on him once more and begining to pump up and down his shaft.
Matt chokes out a moan, his head tilting back in pleasure at the euphoric feeling.
“ffuck—god.. please!” he whimpers, “Feels so good, right? Probably gonna cum already, so pathetic.” you murmur with a prideful smirk.
He looks at you with a wobbly determination, like you've just challenged him to something and was determined to prove you wrong.
Something was going to be proven, that's for sure.
You speed up your ministrations, doing everything you know usually has him going absolutely feral, and the look on his face is hilarious.
His eyes are so close to rolling back—and the way his hips are twitching just shows you that he's using his whole being not to fuck into your hand like an animal.
Minutes later, he's letting out pitying whimpers, sounds that can only be described as two things; a kitten watching it's family die, or Matt trying not to cum and failing big time.
And it's obviously the latter.
“Shit! I can't—cumming!” Matt squeals, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips jerk into your hand one, two, three times before spilling his hot load all of your hand and himself.
You smirk, pumping him a couple more times before lifting your hand to taste some of his essence.
“Mmh, baby, you taste so good..” You groan, scooping some of his cum from his stomach with your middle and index finger and prodding at his lips.
He opens his lips immediately, sucking himself off of your fingers with a whiny moan.
You pull your fingers out of his mouth to instead capture his lips with yours, stealing a rough kiss before pulling back with a smirk.
“Knew you’d cum early.”
୨♡୧ @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers ୨♡୧
☆ Soph's notes: I have to say, these dividers and the other meat dividers by rose are my favorite dividers to ever exist in the history of ever. also hope you guys like this :))
cw: PURE SMUTTTT, panty play? temperature play, rough sex, munchy, clit stimulation, slight size kink, degrading if you put your glasses on, dom!chris, but hint of subby!chris at the end
chris masterlist ○ main masterlist
“..fuck baby, y’got all pretty f’me?”
Ever since you saw Chris in that chain, you were feral.
The backwards cap, the all black outfit, the fluff of his hair—and that goddamn chain? Oh it had you whimpering and wet on site.
“Such cute panties, it's a shame I'm about to ruin them.” Chris taunts, before swiftly tugging them down your legs.
“Fuck—Chris..” You whine, hips bucking into the cold air that hit your now exposed skin.
“So wet..” Chris groans, “guess I should wear this more often.” he grunts.
His fingers swirl around your clit, jabbing through your cunt in and out like he was finishing the job.
That pleasure didn’t last long though. He removes the digits, plunging them into your mouth to suck clean.
You only obey him, the taste of your own slick on your tongue as you clean his fingers off for him. The filthy actions only has your stomach pooling warmer—feining for more of him.
Chris doesn't even ask you to turn around, instead manhandling you into a face down, ass up position.
“Hold yourself up like that ma, can ya’ do that f’me?” he grunts, hastily taking out his cock and dragging it through your puffy folds.
“nngh—yes.. do anything..” You breathe, letting out a cry when you feel his shaft spear through your entrance.
The room fills with obsence squelches, the slapping of skin echoing through the walls as he fucks into you relentlessly.
Your moans are even louder though, almost loud enough to cover up every other sign while being the most obvious at the same time. Normally he wouldn't mind—but tonight, he has a filthy, filthy plan in play.
“Can’t even shut the fuck up, too dumb on my big cock hm? You love it, love screaming while I fuck you.” Chris spits, slowing his thrusts to grab the pink panties he kept with him for this very moment.
He yanks your head up by your hair, causing your back to arch and eliciting a loud moan. He stuffs the panties in your mouth—effectively silencing you in the dirtiest way.
“Thats what i thought.. now be a quiet little fuck toy for me, yeah? Toys aren't supposed to speak.”
You can taste the saltiness of your leaked arousal on the fabric, loud moans becoming muffled through the surprisingly sound proof material.
Chris only quickens his thrusts as he feels you tighten around him, knowing you and him both are just seconds away from cumming.
“Fuck.. cumming—” Chris groans, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips jerk into you, mixing his hot seed with your own sweet cum.
He pulls out of you, but only to turn you around, effectively lying you flat on your back. He pulls your now drooly panties out of your mouth, tossing them onto the floor as he captures your lips in a searing kiss.
The kiss is rough, his teeth grazing your lip and latching onto it, sucking it into his own mouth before tangling his tongue with yours.
“Need—need’a taste you..” He breathes out, quickly slotting his head between your legs and pulling your cunt to his watery mouth—folds still sloppy with your mixed essence.
He immediately digs in, the sight of him eating not only yours, but his own cum has your head spinning, your moans loud and free now that your voice isn't restrained.
The sound of your vocal pleasure pushes Chris further, jerking you up and slinging your legs onto his shoulder to get deeper, and the deer charm of his new fresh love necklace—the one you've been absolutely wrecked for—grazes your clit.
You jolt, letting out a loud whine at the feeling of the cold metal. “Oh baby,” Chris grins mischievously.
“You liked that? Felt good on ya pussy, hm?”
Chris yanks his necklace off, holding it by the deer charm that just caused you to jump in pleasure.
“m’gonna make it feel way better, baby.” he hums, taking the charm and pressing it against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
You gasp, hips once again jerking at the cold sensation. “Chris..” You whine, squirming for his touch.
“need more, hm? Gonna give you a lot more,” Chris grunts out, pulling your pussy flush to his face again as he resumes his earlier ministrations, occasionally stopping to press the cold charm against you.
You're so, so sensitive—the say he continues to edge you, stopping the flicks of his tongue every time he feels your hole clench around the muscle, instead replacing it with the cold metal deer.
You were starting to hate the necklace after all of this teasing—but at the same time, you couldn't get enough.
“Aw, baby, you gonna cum hm? You think I should let you this time?” He coos against your folds, moving his head to look at you.
You immediately push his head down, all inhibitions gone and replaced with one need; release.
“Fuck—don’t stop Chris.. don’t you dare stop this time.” You order, keeping his head down against your folds.
Chris doesn't fight the sudden shift in power, instead groaning loudly at the way you take charge. He doubles his efforts, flicking and swirling his tongue at two times the spred and pressure he was at before.
Pretty soon, you were crying out in pleasure, screaming his name as the band in your tummy snapped and you gushed all over his tongue.
You finally release his head, letting him come up and rest his chin on your stomach.
“Fuck baby.. that was amazing, you're amazing.” Chris breathes, looking at you with the most fucked out eyes, like he was the one getting off.
And maybe he did, because when you drag your gaze to his thighs, the sight of his sticky cum covering them and part of the bed tells you everything you need to know.
Chris looks down sheepishly, before turning his gaze back up and murmuring a small “you can't blame me, you taste too good and your reactions are too sexy.”
You laugh at his words, pulling him close to your chest. “Guess we both made a mess, then.”
“Yeah, we did.”
☆ soph's notes: was that sexy or was that SEXY? best chris smut I've written by far. also feel free to use these panty dividers with credits! I haven't seen any others on here but there may be others I'm not aware of
you gulped, hands shaking as you dialed the only number you could think of that would actually pick up at eleven at night. you didn't want to be a bother, but the heavy rain pouding against your windows, combined with the fact that this was your first night ever living alone, was eating at your nerves.
"sweetheart?" matt's voice was thick with sleep as he picked up on the fourth ring.
"hi daddy." you sniffled, a tear rolling down your cheek.
"baby, you should be in bed. it's late." matt said gently.
"i'm scared." you whispered meekly.
"i'll be there in fifteen, baby. hold tight." as matt spoke, you could hear him rustling his covers as he got out of bed, preparing for the trek to your new apartment.
sure enough, there was a knock on your door fifteen minutes later. you clutched your stuffed pony, priscilla, to your chest as you padded to open it. there was matt in a navy crewneck and gray sweats, shivering from the rain. despite his wet clothes, you flung yourself into his arms, relishing his scent and his large, comforting aura. matt moved so that the two of you were sitting on your new couch, still holding you in his arms as he pulled a throw blanket over your legs.
"what happened, lovebug?" he asked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.
"got scared," you mumbled, realizing now how dumb it sounded. "because of the rain..."
matt chuckled softly, kissing your forehead. "my sensitive little girl."
you blushed at the pet name, clenching your thighs. your relationship with matt was definitely...different. you'd first met him freshman year of college when his daughter and your now-best-friend, delany, had been your roommate. five years later, here you were; matt making you feel mature and you making him feel young.
"is this real reason you called me over here, sweetie?" matt questioned, sneaking a hand towards your pussy as he felt your wetness begin to seep onto his sweatpants. "couldn't go to bed without daddy makin' you feel good."
you reddened, hiding your face against his chest. "shut up."
"or what?" matt teased, hand dipping into your underwear underneath your nightgown. "you'll scream my name so loud the neighbors will hear?"
you hissed as matt begin to thumb slow circles over your clit. this was starting to happen more than it should have, but you couldn't keep yourself away from matt. he was like the parent and the lover you'd never had wrapped up in one.
"mmm, daddy," you whimpered, rutting your hips up towards his hand. "need more."
matt took your begging as a sign to continue, slowly inserting one ringed finger into your dripping slit while his thumb rubbed circles on your clit. "so goddamn wet, sweetheart." he grunted.
you shuddered at the wonderful feeling, pussy throbbing as matt fingered you. "feels so good." was the only broken whimper that left your mouth.
matt kissed your neck, sucking on the spot behind your ear. as if to torment you, he added another finger, grasping at the gummy spot that always made you squirm. within seconds you were moaning, legs shaking with impending orgasm. his cock was growing hard underneath you, but all he cared about right now was taking care of you. you needed him.
"'m gonna cum!" you squealed, entire body trembling as your lower tummy clenched. "please?"
"go ahead, sweetie," matt cooed, voice dripping like honey. "have your orgasm so you can go to bed like a good girl, hmm?"
just as he said that, matt hit the perfect angle that had you practically screaming and clenching around his fingers as the force of your orgasm hit you. you panted against his chest, curling into matt's large body as you regained control of yourself.
"just needed me to give you a good night treat, huh baby?" matt smirked.
... shy!matt x reader—a love story told in all their first moments
cw: flirting, kissing, sub!matt, p in v, riding, squirting, humiliation, jealousy, angst, fluff, literally everything. its a love story!
First Time Meeting
The library was almost empty.
It was late afternoon, the kind of time when the sun starts to filter in sideways through the windows and paint golden lines across the floor. Matt liked it then—quiet, still, safe. The way the shelves muffled everything, the way people whispered by default. He came here more than he liked to admit, always with a book or a sketchpad, always ending up in the same worn seat by the back window.
That’s where he saw you.
He noticed you before you noticed him. You were standing near the psychology shelf, one hand on your hip, head tilted like you were sizing up a row of books for a fight. He thought you were gorgeous— to put it lightly.
There was something about how still you were, how focused. Like you didn’t care who else was in the room. That alone made Matt’s stomach do something embarrassing.
He looked away. Then back again.
You pulled out a book, flipped it open, and sighed. It was almost imperceptible, but he heard it. And then, as if drawn by some invisible, stupid force, Matt stood up.
He didn’t plan on saying anything. He really didn’t. But somehow, he ended up a few feet away, pretending to look for something on the shelf beside you.
You glanced at him once, then twice.
“You need something?” you asked, not unkind, just direct.
Matt blinked, caught. “Oh—uh. No. I was just…”
He trailed off. What was he just?
You raised an eyebrow, book still half-open in your hand. “Just hovering weirdly near me?”
Matt’s face flushed instantly. “I—sorry. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t—”
You smiled then, subtle but real. “Relax. I’m just messing with you.”
“Oh.” He blinked, shoulders tensing, then easing. “Right. Okay.”
You closed the book and tucked it under your arm, turning toward him a little more fully. “You hang out here a lot?”
He hesitated. “Yeah. Kind of my place, I guess.”
“Yeah? You seem like the library type?
That made him tilt his head. “What’s the library type?”
You shrugged. “I don’t know. Glasses? Button up shirts? Tote bags or some shit??”
He laughed, caught off guard. “I mean, I do have many tote bags. And glasses. And button up shirts.”
You nodded toward the sketchpad under his arm. “You draw?”
Matt looked down like he forgot he was holding it. “Oh—yeah. A bit.”
“Can I see?”
His eyes widened slightly. “Now?”
“No,” you said, mock serious. “In a couple days.”
He laughed nervously. “Right. Sorry.”
He flipped open the sketchpad without thinking, hands clumsy, suddenly hyperaware of how close you were. The pages showed a mix of quick studies—hands, faces, street scenes—done in pencil, loose and warm.
You looked for a moment, quiet.
“These are really good,” you said.
Matt blinked, startled. “Oh. Thanks.”
“No, like—actually. I don’t usually say things I don’t mean.”
“I—okay.” He tried not to grin like an idiot. “That’s... really nice of you. Um t-thank you.”
You glanced at him again, more carefully this time. “You always this twitchy, or is it just me?”
He flushed. “Just you, probably.”
You smiled again. “Cute.”
His ears turned red. “You, uh… you come here a lot?”
“Sometimes. When I want to think. Or avoid people.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s why I come too.”
You looked at him for a moment longer, like you were deciding something.
“I’m gonna go sit over there,” you said, motioning toward the window seat he always used. “You can come too, if you want.”
Matt hesitated just long enough for you to raise an eyebrow again.
“Unless you’re scared,” you added.
“I’m not scared,” he said quickly, stepping forward before his brain could stop him.
You gave a soft hum of approval and led the way. When you sat, you didn’t spread out or mark your space—just leaned back, casual, like you belonged there. Matt hovered for a beat too long before settling beside you, sketchpad in his lap, palms sweating.
“So,” you said after a moment. “What’s your name?”
“Matt.”
You repeated it under your breath, then nodded. “I’m y/n.”
Silence again. Not awkward—just expectant.
“I really wasn’t trying to be weird earlier,” Matt blurted.
You looked at him sideways. “You kinda were.”
“I know,” he groaned, covering his face.
You nudged his knee with yours. “But I didn’t mind.”
He peeked at you between his fingers. “Really?”
“Really,” you said, letting your smile grow slowly. “You’re cute when you panic.”
Matt didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He just looked at you—composed, unreadable, and yet totally disarming—and felt like someone had pulled the floor out from under him.
You nudged his knee again, gentler this time. “Cat got your tongue, sketchboy?”
He blinked like he’d just surfaced. “Sorry, I’m—this is just... a lot.”
You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Me sitting near you is ‘a lot’?”
“No, it’s just—you’re really…” He trailed off, like the word had gotten stuck somewhere between his brain and mouth.
“I’m really…?” you prompted, leaning in slightly.
Matt swallowed. “Distracting.”
You grinned. “I’ll take it.”
He laughed under his breath, nervous again, thumb grazing the corner of his sketchpad like it was grounding him. “You make it hard to think.”
“That’s the goal,” you said casually, watching him squirm. “But if it helps, you’re doing okay.”
He tilted his head. “Okay?”
“Better than I expected.”
“Better than—wait, what were you expecting?”
You shrugged like it wasn’t important. “I don’t know. More stammering. More sweating.”
“Oh, I’m definitely sweating,” he muttered.
You smirked and leaned back against the window, eyes squinting at the slats of sunlight spilling across the floor. “You’re funny, though. Kind of sweet.”
Matt opened his mouth, then closed it again. “You’re just… saying that.”
“No,” you said, without looking at him. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
And that quiet between you returned—just long enough for the tension to shift from playful to something heavier. More real.
“I, um…” Matt started, then stopped, biting his lip.
You glanced over. “What?”
He scratched the back of his neck, looking absolutely anywhere but at you. “I’ve got a lecture that I have to head to. Would it be super weird if I asked for your number?”
You didn’t answer right away. Just looked at him for a second too long. Then:
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether you’re actually gonna use it.”
His head snapped up. “I—yes. I will. I mean, I want to.”
You pulled a pen from your tote and reached for his sketchpad. “Then I guess it’s not super weird.”
You scribbled your number in the corner, dotting the “i” in your name with a tiny star. Then handed it back like it was no big deal.
Matt looked down at it like it might vanish.
“Don’t overthink it,” you said as you stood, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Just text me.”
He nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”
You paused, gave him one last look. “Nice meeting you, Matt.”
And then you walked away, as calm and unreadable as when you’d arrived, leaving him blinking in the gold light, sketchpad in hand, heart doing things he didn’t know hearts could do.
First Texts
Matt:
hey
It’s me, matt, from the library?
You:
Hey matt
Whats up
Matt:
so hypothetically
if someone wanted to see you again
in a setting that wasn’t just surrounded by dusty psychology books
how would you feel about that?
You:
i’d feel like that person should stop hiding behind hypotheticals and just ask me out
Matt:
okay
uh
d’you wanna go have a picnic?
I know a quiet spot. Nothing fancy. Just food and you I guess.
You:
Food and me?? Sounds fun
Matt:
Good. I’ll bring snacks and a blanket. You just bring yourself.
You:
Deal. Saturday afternoon work?
Matt:
Yeah that works! I’ll pick you up.
First Date
The park was quiet, with just enough afternoon sun slipping through the trees to make the grass glow golden. Matt spread the blanket carefully, trying not to fumble too much with the snacks he’d brought. He’d overthought everything—the perfect spot, the right food— chocolate covered strawberries, all sorts of fruits and cheeses, and chips.
You plopped down right beside him, knees touching, grinning in surprise.
“Wow,” you said, eyeing his arrangement. “Look at you, all organized and stuff. I half expected you to show up with a bag of chips and maybe a soda.”
Matt’s cheeks flushed, a little overwhelmed by your energy. “Hey, I put some thought into this. Quality counts.”
You leaned in closer, voice low and teasing. “I like a guy who tries. Those fuckin’ nochalant guys piss me off.”
He swallowed hard, blinking, sort of unable to focus. He really liked your eyelashes. You did your makeup in the way that made them clumped together in triangles and spikey, framing your eyes. “I—yeah, thank you.”
“No, thank you.” You add, picking up a strawberry from the bowl. “You seem really sweet. Kinda random, but did you bring your sketchbook by any chance?”
Matt shifted, breaking out into a cute smile. “Yeah! I did, actually Why?.”
You laughed, the sound light and infectious. “You’re so excited!”
He smiled shyly, glancing down at the blanket like it was a lifeline.
You dug into the basket again and pulled out the sketchbook, flipping it open to a blank page. “Alright, Picasso, impress me.”
Matt’s eyes brightened, and he took the sketchbook, already grabbing a pencil from his bag. “Okay, but be warned—I’m better at drawing nature than people.”
You smirked, nudging him playfully. “Then you better start with me.”
He bit his lip, concentrating, pencil moving carefully. You watched him, fascinated by the furrow of his brow and the way his fingers trembled just a little.
“I-I don’t know if it’s going to be good.”
You reached out and brushed a stray hair from his face, smiling softly. “You’re doing just fine.”
Matt’s heart did a weird flip-flop thing. “You’re way too nice.”
“Nah, I just like making cute nerds blush.”
He coughed awkwardly, cheeks flaming. “I’m not blushing.”
“Sure you’re not.” You grinned, then changed the subject, “So, what’s next after strawberries? I’m expecting a grand tour of your snack stash.”
“Grand tour? Wow, you really know how to flatter a guy.”
You laughed again, flicking a crumb at him. “Flattery and flirting—my specialties.”
Matt tried to catch the crumb but missed, ending up with it on his shirt. You giggled, and he gave up, just grinning like a total dork, then going back to draw.
“You’re distracting,” he muttered, eyes flicking up to yours as his pencil moved in short, careful strokes.
“Am I?” you teased, voice lilting.
“Painfully,” he replied without looking up, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile.
You sat back a little, giving him space, watching the way his hand moved. He was quiet for a bit, just sketching, tongue peeking out in concentration.
Finally, he stopped, blowing gently across the page like it’d smudge if he even breathed wrong. “Okay, um. It’s not perfect, but…”
He turned the sketchbook around and showed you.
It was you—your hair a little messy from the breeze, lips parted like you were mid-laugh, sitting cross-legged with a strawberry in one hand. Soft lines, but so intentional. Warm. Kind of how he saw you.
He looked like he was about to short-circuit. “You think so?”
You nodded slowly, eyes still on the drawing. “It’s not even about the lines or whatever—it just… feels like me. Like how I felt sitting here. That’s kinda magical, you know?”
Matt blinked, definitely blushing now.
You leaned in, elbow nudging his. “You’re kinda magical, Matt.”
He looked away, smiling so wide he couldn’t stop it. “You’re gonna kill me.”
You leaned back on your hands, stretching your legs out across the blanket as the sun dipped a little lower, turning everything hazy and golden. The strawberry stem still sat between your fingers, forgotten.
Matt was watching you like he didn’t mean to. Like every time he looked away, he had to check again to make sure you were still real.
You caught him. “You good?”
He blinked, startled. “What? Yeah—yeah, I’m just…”
“Mesmerized by my beauty?”
“I mean…” He trailed off, but you saw the grin creeping onto his face.
You laughed, brushing your fingers lightly against his arm. “Relax, I’m just messing.”
“Kind of wish you weren’t,” he muttered under his breath, quiet but not quiet enough.
You stilled for half a second, then smiled—gentler this time. “I’m glad I came.”
He looked over at you again, blinking slowly, eyes all soft. “Me too.”
There was a pause—comfortable. The kind you don’t notice until it’s over.
Eventually, you helped him pack up, folding the blanket between you, hands brushing once, twice, until he finally just said, “Let me,” and took it from you, a little too careful, a little too flustered.
When you got to the path back toward the street, you slowed down. “Hey, Matt?”
He looked over, hair mussed from the breeze, sketchbook tucked under his arm.
You leaned in and kissed his cheek. Just barely, but definitely enough to make his ears go red.
“Thanks for today,” you said.
Matt blinked. “Uh. Yeah. No. Yeah—thank you. Too. I mean. You’re welcome. I mean—”
You grinned. “God, you’re cute.”
He laughed, finally letting out a breath. “I don’t know how you do that”
“Good,” you said, turning to go. “I don’t want you to.”
And with that, you walked off, glancing back once to see him still standing there, grinning like he couldn’t believe his life.
First Kiss
You’d been on a few dates by now—enough that Matt had stopped flinching every time your knee touched his under the table, but not enough that he’d figured out how to look at your mouth without going pink.
Tonight, it was a walk. No real plan. Just you, Matt, and the city lit up like it was showing off for you.
He kept sneaking glances. You kept pretending not to notice. Then purposely brushing your shoulder into his just to make him stumble over his words again.
“You know,” you said as you passed a quiet little streetlamp, “you’re starting to look at me like you wanna kiss me.”
Matt nearly tripped. “What—? I’m—No, I mean—yes? I mean—”
You stopped walking, turning toward him with a teasing smile. “Relax. I’m not gonna bite. Unless you’re into that.”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “I, uh. I do want to kiss you. Kinda a lot.”
A sold moment passed.
“Then do it.”
His eyes widened a little, like he wasn’t expecting you to just say it. He opened his mouth then closed it like a fish, unable to get words out.
But he stepped in anyway, one slow inch at a time. Close enough to see every little shimmer in your eyes. Close enough to get nervous again.
You reached up and tugged gently at the collar of his hoodie. “C’mon, Matt. You’ve drawn me twice. You can kiss me once.”
That made him laugh, nervous and breathless. His pretty eyes behind his glasses kept flicking between your eyes and your lips as you just watched him carefully.
Then he leaned in. It was soft. Careful. Like he was afraid you might vanish if he messed it up. But your hands found the sides of his face, grounding him, and when you kissed back—just a little firmer, a little more sure—he melted into it.
His hands came to go around your waist as he tilted his head slightly to slot his lips perfecty against yours. His glasses make contact with your nose as he kisses you a bit harder.
When you pulled away, barely, his forehead bumped gently into yours.
“You okay?” you murmured.
“Yeah,” he said, dazed. “Just—processing. That was...wow.”
You grinned. “You’re cute when your brain short-circuits.”
“You’re cute,” he said, quickly, confidence boosting his ability to compliment you.
You laughed, threading your fingers through his. “True. But you’re especially cute when you’re flustered. Which, lucky for me, is always.”
Then without hesitation, put his hands around your face and kissed you again, this time without overthinking.
Progress.
First Sleepover
You were early. Not by much. Just thirty minutes. You had your reasons: the streetcar came fast, your outfit (which was just your pajamas) had come together better than expected, and… okay, maybe you just wanted to see him a little sooner.
What you didn’t expect was for Matt to answer the door shirtless and confused, hair wet and curling at the ends. He blinked at you, eyes wide behind his glasses, water still dripping down his collarbone.
He clearly had meant to shave you had interrupted his frantic getting ready based on the slight scruff on his jawline— he usually had it cleanly shaved, and you couldn't help but love this look.
“…You’re early.”
You smiled like you hadn’t just swallowed a breath. “Yeah. Guess I missed you.”
Matt looked panicked. “I—I just got out of the shower.”
“I can see that,” you said, gaze shameless. “And you look very clean. Very damp. Very shirtless.”
He flushed to the tips of his ears. “Oh my God.”
You leaned against the doorframe, all teeth. “Should I wait out here while you compose yourself? Or do I get a pre-movie show?”
He made a strangled noise, yanked the door open wider, and turned away too fast. “Just come in—give me two seconds—Jesus—”
You giggled and stepped inside, not bothering to hide the way your eyes trailed after him as he disappeared down the hall.
By the time he reemerged, shirt clinging slightly from rushed dressing and curls still drying, you were perched on the couch with your legs tucked under you and the popcorn he had laid out in your lap. “Much better,” you said. “I mean, I prefer the previous look, but I’ll survive.”
“y/n,” Matt muttered, sitting down beside you. “You’re gonna kill me.”
You bumped your shoulder into his. “Nah. Not yet.”
After a while when Matt had turned all the light on and gotten settled, the movie played. Sort of. You weren’t really watching it. Neither was he.
You commented too much. He laughed too easily. He kept glancing at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice, and you definitely noticed.
At some point, his arm had somehow ended around your shoulder.
Neither of you said anything. It just stayed there, warm and loose between popcorn refills. Eventually, you leaned your head onto his shoulder. His breath caught.
“I really like this,” you whispered.
“Me too,” he said, even softer.
You turned your head slightly to look at him. Your faces were closer than you realized.
He didn’t move.
So you leaned in and kissed him—slow and easy, like you’d been waiting all week to do it again.
Matt made a soft sound, almost surprised, and kissed you back. It was warmer this time, a little more sure. In his mind, all he wanted to do was launch forwards and kiss you harder. You were just so captivating that it’s all he could think of, but he tried keeping self control, and pulled away.
He pulled away with a shaky breath, eyes fluttering open like he was waking from a dream. His lips were pink, his cheeks flushed, and you could feel the restraint vibrating off him.
You tilted your head, voice teasing. “What, that’s all I get?”
Matt laughed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “If I didn’t stop, I wasn’t gonna stop.”
Your brows lifted, amusement flickering in your smile. “Wow. Bold of you to assume I’d mind.”
He groaned, flopping back onto the couch dramatically. “Don’t say stuff like that. I’ll combust.”
You leaned on him, gently resting a hand on his leg that laid right beside yours. “You’re so cute when you’re like this.”
He looked up at you, still flushed, eyes dark with something and caught-off-guard. “You’ve mentioned,” he says sarcastically.
With a gasp of indignation, you gave a soft slap on the leg where your hand was resting. “Don’t you build up an attitude with me, Matthew.
He just opened his mouth then shut it, clearly not knowing how to feel about you saying his full name like that. He liked it, so he decided right then.
Before he could respond, you kissed him again—this one short, smiling against his mouth, before sitting back and curling into his side like nothing had happened.
Matt took a full sixty seconds to reboot. Then quietly—carefully—he draped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in closer.
You didn’t say anything. You just rested your head back on him and let yourself melt.
After a couple moments, Matt shifted carefully, adjusting so he was lying down on the long couch. You moved with him, settling against his side, your body fitting naturally against his. The movie kept playing, the flickering light casting soft shadows across the room.
You blinked slowly, your breathing evening out as sleep started to claim you— you were a pretty early sleeper for people your age.
Matt’s eyes stayed on the screen for a moment, but his attention quietly drifted to you. The peaceful way your eyelashes fluttered, the slight rise and fall of your chest—it was like watching something fragile and beautiful.
When the movie’s credits began to roll, Matt reached out without a sound, grabbing the remote from the edge of the couch. His fingers hovered for a second, then he pressed the button to turn off the TV.
The room went dark except for the soft glow of streetlights outside.
Matt didn’t move, just held you a little tighter as you slipped fully into sleep, a small smile tugging at his lips.
First Time You Made it Official
The sun dipped just below the horizon, the sky swirling with peach and lavender as Matt pulled up outside your place. He jumped out of the car, already rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Ready?” he asked, flashing that awkward-but-sincere smile you were already hooked on.
You nodded, sliding into the passenger seat. The car smelled faintly of popcorn and something sweet — maybe.
Matt started driving, stealing glances at you from the corner of his eyes. “So, this is kind of a last-minute thing,” he muttered, voice a bit shaky. “I hope you don’t mind.”
You grinned, heart fluttering. “I love surprises.”
The city lights blurred past as you drove out of town, the orange glow of the sunset melting into the cool blues of twilight.
Finally, you reached a quiet hilltop overlooking the drive-in. Matt parked, and you both sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the engine.
“Okay,” he said, suddenly breaking the quiet, “close your eyes.”
You raised an eyebrow but obeyed, heart thudding in your chest. Slowly, you heard him walk around to your side of the passenger side of the car and open the door, holding both of your hands to guide you out, then eventually leading you around the car. You were grinning so hard it hurt. Then, he let go and you hear a little click and switch.
“Alright, open ‘em,” Matt whispered.
You blinked, and the trunk was wide open, spilling out a soft golden light from twinkling string lights Matt had strung up with obvious care. Cushions and blankets were arranged in a cozy nest, and a spread of snacks — popcorn, chocolate, fruit — sat invitingly in the center.
Right there, taped to the inside of the trunk lid, was a sign written in his handwriting:
“Can I be yours?”
Your breath hitched. You looked up at Matt, who was now practically glowing with nervous hope.
“So…?” he said, voice cracking just a little.
You didn’t hesitate. You threw yourself into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing your face into his neck.
Matt stumbled backward, laughter bubbling up as he caught you effortlessly.
“Matt!” you yelled with a squeal, leaning back and pressing a passionate kiss into his lips.
“Is that a yes,” he said, voice rough with emotion against your lips.
You pulled back just enough to smile, then leaned in once again, kissing him slow and soft, full of all the excitement and relief and warmth you’d both been holding back.
The world shrunk to just you two, the twinkle lights glowing softly, the sound of the movie starting in the background, and the feeling that this was exactly where you were supposed to be.
“Of course I’ll be your girlfriend, Matt. Of course.”
First Time you Gave him a Nickname
You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a stack of old vinyl records you’d pulled out from her collection. The soft crackle of the music filled the room.
You smiled and handed Matt one. “You always pick the best ones, baby.”
Matt froze. His face went bright red, and before he could stop himself, he covered his face with his hands.
“Wait... did you just call me… baby?” His voice was shaky and muffled.
You laughed, watching him squirm. “Yeah. So?”
He peeked through his fingers, cheeks burning hard. “I—uh—didn’t expect that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find words. “It’s… nice, I guess. Um. Um, sorry..”
You reached out and tucked a stray hair behind his ear, then leaned in and kissed him.
Matt’s eyes went wide. His heart was racing so fast he thought it’d jump out. He froze for a second, then kissed her back, shy and slow.
You’d been at it for hours—highlighting, rewriting notes, flipping through textbooks—trying to force your brain to understand the material that just wouldn’t click. Your desk was a chaotic mess, pages strewn about like a storm had passed through. The clock ticked on, but all you felt was your chest tightening, breaths growing shorter, and the walls closing in.
Matt was lying on your bed nearby, earbuds in, half-asleep, his music washing over him like a soft wace. But then, even without hearing you, he noticed the subtle change—the way your fingers trembled, the catch in your breath.
Involuntarily, you gasped your vision swimming. Panic swelled fast and fierce. You couldn’t do it. You were going to fail your midterms. You couldn’t do it.
Matt was up instantly, heart pounding. He yanked the earbuds out, voice gentle but urgent. “Hey, hey, baby, what’s going on? Talk to me.”
You couldn’t answer. You were drowning in your own panic, breaths coming in sharp, uneven bursts, tears slipping down your cheeks.
Matt closed the distance, taking your shaking hands in his. “Okay. We’re gonna slow this down. Just breathe with me. In—hold it—out. Again.”
You tried, but your lungs felt tight, like air was slipping away.
Without hesitation, he guided you away from the desk. “Come sit with me. You’re not alone.”
You let yourself be pulled onto the bed, curling into him as he wrapped his arms around your trembling frame. His chest was steady beneath your head, his heartbeat a quiet anchor against your chaos.
“I’m right here,” he whispered, voice low and soft. “Nothing’s wrong with you. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”
The warmth of his touch, the calm in his voice—it started to pull you back, like a lifeline.
You felt yourself start to relax, breaths becoming deeper, less frantic.
Matt’s fingers traced slow circles on your back. “You’re okay. You’re so brave for even letting me see this.”
You pressed your face against his shirt, embarrassed but too exhausted to care. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break down like this. I’m just... so tired. And I don’t get it. I’ve been trying so hard. I feel like fucking shit, Matt.”
Matt kissed the top of your head. “You don’t have to explain. I’m not going anywhere.”
He tightened his hold, voice thick with care. “I hate that you’re hurting. But I’m proud of you for pushing through.”
A shaky breath escaped you, comfort blooming in the quiet room. “Thank you... for being here.”
He smiled, the kind of smile that makes your chest ache in the best way. “Always. Now, how about we put those books away for tonight? I’ll even let you pick the movie. Something dumb, something that makes us laugh.”
You let out a soft laugh, feeling a flicker of light through the panic haze. “Yeah... I’d like that.”
Matt brushed a stray tear from your cheek and whispered, “You’re the strongest person I know, y/n, don’t you forget it. And with that, he planted a firm kiss on your lips.
First I love you
It was a lazy Sunday. You were sitting cross-legged on Matt’s bed, eating fruit straight from the container while he lay next to you on his stomach, sketchbook open in front of him. The soft hum of music drifted from his speaker, blending with the late afternoon light that poured in through his window.
You popped a grape into your mouth and looked over at what he was drawing. “Is that supposed to be me?” you teased, leaning closer. “Why are my eyes so big?”
Matt huffed. “They’re not big, they’re expressive. It’s artistic exaggeration.”
“You just called me cartoonish.”
He glanced up, grinning. “Well, you’re my favorite cartoon character. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” you echoed, smirking.
He returned to his sketching, but you saw the smile that lingered at the corner of his mouth. You stretched out beside him, stealing one of his pencils just to annoy him. He didn’t stop you.
You were halfway doodling nonsense in the margin of his page when he muttered, casually and without looking up, “God, I love you.”
You froze.
So did he.
He blinked. Then his pencil dropped. And slowly, like his brain was catching up with his mouth, he turned to look at you. His eyes were wide.
“Oh my god,” he whispered, already flushing pink. “Wait. I didn’t— I mean, I didn’t mean it like—well I did but—” He sat up too fast and knocked the sketchbook off the bed. “I wasn’t gonna say it like that, not now, I—ugh—”
“Matt,” you said softly.
He ran a hand through his hair, now fully red in the face. “I was gonna wait for, like, a perfect moment. Maybe flowers? Or a sunset? Not while you’re bullying me over eyeballs—”
“Matt.”
He peeked at you through his fingers. “Yeah?”
You reached for him and held his face gently. “I love you too.”
He blinked again. “Wait... seriously?”
You nodded, smile growing. “Seriously.”
His whole body relaxed like he’d just exhaled a week’s worth of breath. “Oh thank god,” he said, then added in a rush, “I mean—not that I was worried. I mean, I was. But like—” He paused. “You love me?”
“I do.”
He grinned, giddy and dazed. “Sick.”
You laughed. “That’s your response?”
He shrugged, all flustered and glowing. “I panicked. But I’m really happy.”
Then he kissed you — not clumsy or rushed, but slow and sweet, like he finally knew where he stood.
And where he stood was exactly where he wanted to be.
First Makeout Sesh
It started like any other night. You were sitting cross-legged on Matt’s bed, half-watching a movie while your fingers absentmindedly toyed with the hem of your hoodie—his hoodie that you’d stolen weeks ago. He was beside you, leaning against the headboard, looking very boyfriend-coded in a black tank top and sweats, hair still slightly messy from earlier.
His glasses were set to the side of his dresser, and he had that slight stubble that you just loved.
You weren’t really paying attention to the movie. Not when he kept tracing soft patterns on the side of your waist, not when he looked over and smiled like that—all shy and soft and so obviously in love.
At some point, you climbed into his lap.
It wasn’t planned. You were just tired, or at least that was your excuse. He blinked up at you, wide-eyed, his hands hovering near your waist like he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch.
“You okay?” he asked, voice a little breathier than usual.
You leaned in, brushing your nose against his. “More than okay.”
And then you kissed him.
It started soft, familiar. You’d kissed before—quick, sweet pecks, slow moments on quiet afternoons. But this one deepened fast. You tilted your head, one hand sliding into his hair, and Matt made the softest sound—half gasp, half sigh—against your mouth.
He kissed you back like he’d been waiting for it.
His hands settled on your hips, tentative at first. You shifted a little, straddling him properly, and his breath hitched hard.
“Y-you’re gonna kill me,” he mumbled against your lips, cheeks flushed pink.
You smiled. “You like it.”
His eyes fluttered shut when you kissed down the side of his jaw, your lips grazing the edge of his throat. His hands gripped you tighter, like he needed to hold on to something.
“God,” he whispered, “you’re unreal.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him—his lips were red and kiss-bruised, hair all messed up from your fingers. He looked completely dazed.
You let your fingers trace the line of his collarbone, just barely under the tank top strap, and he whimpered.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, voice cracking with pure embarrassment. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—”
“—you’re so cute when you’re desperate,” you interrupt, brushing your nose against his again.
Matt looked humiliated and so turned on. “That’s so unfair.”
But he didn’t stop kissing you. Didn’t stop pulling you closer, as you both held onto each other and made out in a rhythm.
“y/n…” he said, voice a little wrecked already.
You tilted your head. “Yeah?”
“I—um.” His hands flexed on your hips again, eyes darting down to where your bodies pressed together. “You should probably stop,” he mutters with embarrassment.
You smile and begin placing kisses down his neck. “Why?”
“B-because,” he tries to say, until you fully sit down onto his lap, making contact with his bulge. He groans, totally forgetting what he was trying to bring up.
“Fuck— this feels like a dream.”
You smirked. “Do your dreams usually include me grinding on you?”
Matt choked. Literally choked on air.
“Jesus Christ—” He threw his head back against the headboard, face flaming. “You’re evil.”
But he didn’t stop you when you rolled your hips, just barely.
He whimpered. A real, honest-to-God whimper. And it made you grin so wide you had to hide it against his neck.
“Y-you can’t just do that,” he said, his voice trembling.
“Why not?” you murmured, kissing just below his ear. “You like it.”
His hands slid up your back now, hesitant but eager. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind.”
“Good.”
You kissed him again—hotter, more open-mouthed. This time he gave in completely. He let you take control, lips parting under yours, breath stuttering as your tongues brushed. His hands were gripping the hem of your hoodie like he was afraid he might float away if he let go.
You pulled back just long enough to tug the hoodie off. Matt’s eyes widened like he’d just short-circuited.
“You’re so—” he started, then stopped, then swallowed. “I don’t even have words.”
You leaned back in, resting your forehead against his. “You don’t have to talk, baby. Just feel.”
That got a sound out of him that went straight to your stomach. He kissed you again, this time with urgency, with need. His hips shifted under yours involuntarily, and you both gasped at the friction.
You dragged your nails gently up his arms, feeling the tension there. “Tell me what you want,” you whispered.
Matt shook his head, dizzy. “I don’t—I.”
Then you heard a knock at the door.
Matt froze.
You both stared at each other, breath caught, hearts hammering. Another knock. Louder.
“Bro!” a voice called. “Open up—we brought snacks!”
Matt groaned like it physically hurt. He flopped back against the headboard, arms thrown over his eyes in pure agony. “No. No, no, no. I forgot Chris and Nick were coming.”
You laughed—quiet and breathless—as he muttered a string of hushed curses.
“They’re literally the worst,” he whispered, like he was being hunted. “Fuck m’sorry.”
You leaned down, still straddling him, brushing a kiss against his jaw. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait.”
He whined. You loved it.
The knock came again, followed by a chorus of his brothers’ voices arguing about who was supposed to text ahead. Matt looked at you with the most tragic expression.
“Another day, baby,” you add. With a groan he tries to subtly tuck himself into the waistband of his sweatpants without you seeing, then begins trudging downstairs to open the door.
First Fight
It started with something small.
Matt had been quiet all night. You’d asked if everything was okay once, twice—he just nodded and said he was tired. But when you made a joke at dinner, one you’d made a hundred times before, he barely reacted. And when he did, it was sharp.
“God, do you always have to say stuff like that?”
You blinked. “What?”
He sighed. “Just forget it.”
“No,” you said. “Say what you mean. You’ve been weird all night.”
“Maybe I’m tired of always feeling like a joke to you.”
You stared at him, mouth slightly open. “Matt, what the hell are you talking about?”
He rubbed his eyes, clearly frustrated. “You tease me all the time, y/n. And I usually don’t care. But lately it just—it feels like you don’t take me seriously. Like I’m just some soft guy who can’t handle anything.”
Your chest tightened. “That’s not true. I—I tease you because I like you. You know that.”
“I thought I did,” he said quietly.
Silence stretched. You felt it like a pressure in your ribs, heavy and awful.
“N-no, no baby,” you whisper, eyes widening. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I didn’t know you felt like that,” you said, voice smaller now. “Why didn’t you say something before?”
“Because I didn’t want to seem pathetic,” he mumbled.
That cracked something open in you. “You’re not pathetic, Matt. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”
He wouldn’t look at you. Just sat there, hands clenched in his lap, trying not to crumble.
You crossed the room and knelt in front of him. “I’m sorry. If I made you feel like you’re not enough—God, I’m so sorry.”
His eyes finally met yours. “I just want to feel like I matter to you. Like… not just the flirty version. The me version.”
“You matter,” you said, pressing your hand to his chest. “This version. All of it. I see you, Matt.”
His face crumpled, just a little. And then you were hugging, both of you holding on too tightly, too long, like the space between your bodies had been unbearable.
“I’m sorry Matt,” you whisper, tears stinging your eyes. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I swear I will.”
After a long time of you laying in his arms, he says into your hair. “I forgive you, baby.”
First time you cared for him while he was sick
Matt did not look good.
The second you opened the door to his apartment—code he’d barely managed to text you—you found him lying sideways on the bathroom floor, half-conscious, sweaty, and pale like a ghost with heatstroke.
“Oh my God,” you breathed, rushing to kneel beside him. “Matt?”
He groaned in response, one hand feebly waving in the direction of the toilet. “I threw up. A lot. I think I’m dying.”
You ignored the dramatics and brushed his damp hair back. He was burning up, forehead hot under your fingers, skin clammy and gross in a way that made your heart squeeze with worry.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were this sick?”
He mumbled something unintelligible and dramatically buried his face in your lap. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”
“You’re literally on the bathroom floor,” you said. “I want to be bothered for that.”
You helped him up slowly, got him into a clean shirt, and tucked him onto the couch with a cold compress and a puke bucket beside him. The whole time, he just let you do it, too weak to argue, blinking up at you like you were a hallucination sent by some benevolent god.
“Don’t leave,” he mumbled, grabbing your hand as you went to get him water.
“I’m getting you electrolytes, drama queen,” you whispered, kissing the back of his hand. “I’ll be right back.”
You set up camp with him after that—cool cloth on his forehead, hand in his hair, rubbing his back every time he groaned or whimpered. He kept mumbling delirious things like "You're so nice to me" and "I feel gross and you still look at me like that?"
At one point, as you were carefully helping him drink tiny sips of water, he whispered hoarsely, “If I die, tell my brothers I love them, but tell you… you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
You snorted. “Shut up and sip. You’re not dying. You just had gas station sushi.”
He groaned into the pillow. “I’m never eating fish again.”
You kissed his clammy temple anyway. “You’ve got the immune system of a Victorian child. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”
He sighed deeply, miserable but comforted, and whispered something like “Love you” before passing out halfway through. You stopped for a second, looking at his flushed, peaceful face, and tucked the blanket higher on his shoulders.
“Love you too, dummy,” you whispered. “Even when you’re disgusting.”
You stayed the whole night, checking up on him every hour and replacing his cold compress. Just in case.
First Time
It started with a kiss.
Not the rushed kind, or the one pulled between jokes and giggles—this one was different. Slower. Hungrier.
You’d been curled up beside Matt on his bed, talking about nothing. His glasses had slid slightly down the bridge of his nose, his curls soft from running his fingers through them all evening. You leaned over to fix them, and his eyes flicked to your lips instead.
“Can I…?”
You nodded before he finished, and the kiss melted into something deeper. Something needier.
His hands trembled a little when they found your waist. Yours weren’t much steadier.
You pulled away, forehead resting against his, eyes searching his face. “We don’t have to,” you whispered. “But I kind of… want to. With you.”
Matt's eyes went wide—so wide you half-thought he’d forgotten how to blink.
“I—I want to too,” he said, voice shaking, cheeks already flushed. “I’ve just never—well, I mean I have, but not like… not like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like… with someone I actually care about. Who makes me feel like I’m not gonna mess everything up.”
You leaned in and kissed him again—gently this time. “You’re not messing anything up.”
His breath caught when you shifted, pressing closer.
“Are you okay?” you asked.
He nodded too fast, then stuttered, “Yeah—I mean, yes. I just—can’t—um, function when you’re like this.”
“Like what?” you asked, already smiling.
He covered his face with his hands, groaning. “Hot. Okay? You’re so fucking hot. This is unfair.”
You giggled, reaching to tug his hands away. “Then I’ll go slow.”
And you did.
You kissed along his jaw, his neck, his collarbone—feeling the way he trembled beneath you. Every time your lips brushed his skin, a soft, surprised sound escaped him, like he couldn’t believe it was real.
You let your fingertips trail down his chest, pausing just above his waistband.
Matt looked like he might self-destruct.
“Still okay?” you asked.
He nodded, biting his lip. “Please don’t stop.”
You kissed him again. “I won’t.”
Then you eased your shirt over your head.
He made a strangled noise and squeezed his eyes shut for a second, then opened them again—like he was bracing himself for a heart attack and couldn't not look at you.
“You’re literally glowing,” he whispered. “How are you real?”
You took his hands and pressed them to your bare waist, guiding him.
He stared, completely flushed, completely in awe.
You straddled his lap slowly, carefully, watching the way his breath hitched as your bare skin met his. He was already half-hard in his boxers, twitchy with nerves, eyes flickering everywhere—your eyes, your chest, your lips, back to your eyes like he was overwhelmed but desperate to see everything.
“You okay?” you asked, brushing a hand through his hair.
He nodded, breathless. “Y-yeah. Just… you’re on top of me. And you’re, um. Naked.”
You leaned in, nipping his jaw. “And you like it?”
His laugh was breathy, nervous. “I love it. It’s just—my brain isn’t working. You’re so pretty. I don’t know where to put my hands.”
You took his wrists gently, guiding one to your hips and one over your breast. “Here’s a good place to start.”
He groaned, head tipping back against the pillows. “You’re gonna kill me.”
You kissed down his neck, lingering just below his ear. “You’ll survive.”
Your fingers slipped into the waistband of his boxers, giving him a moment. He nodded again—flushed, trembling, but sure. You helped him out of them, and when he was finally bare beneath you, he looked like he might actually pass out.
You paused just to look at him—legs spread slightly, cheeks red, chest rising fast. You let your fingers trail down his stomach, feather-light.
“You're beautiful like this, Matt.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, like he couldn’t handle hearing it. “You make me feel like I am.”
You leaned in again, kissing him slow. “I want you to feel good. You ready?”
He nodded again, a little more desperate this time. “Please. Just… tell me what to do.”
You reached for the lube and condom you'd stashed earlier, heart thudding at the way his thighs tensed under your touch. Once everything was ready, you settled over him, guiding him to your entrance.
“Go slow?” he asked, voice cracking.
“Always,” you whispered.
And when you sank down onto him, inch by inch, his hands gripped your hips like they were the only things keeping him tethered to the earth. He let out the softest, most broken moan you'd ever heard—like pleasure punched the air right out of him.
“Oh my god,” he gasped. “y/n, I—holy shit, you feel so good.”
You gave him a moment to adjust, and when he opened his eyes—dazed, overwhelmed, reverent—you started to move.
“Y’so warm,” he gasped “n’tight, oh fuck.”
It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t rough. It was messy, breathy, and achingly sweet. His hands roamed your waist like he didn’t know what to hold onto. He whined every time your hips rolled just right, whispered your name like a prayer, told you over and over how good it felt.
“I don’t wanna come yet,” he whimpered. “I wanna stay inside you forever.”
“Don’t worry baby, we’ve got forever.”
And when he finally did come—loud, gasping, eyes wide and pupils blown—you leaned down and kissed him through it, riding him slowly, comforting, grounding him as he trembled beneath you, whimpering into your ear.
After, his hands curled around yours like a lifeline.
“You okay?” you asked softly, brushing sweat-damp curls from his forehead.
He was still catching his breath, face buried in the crook of your neck, but you could feel it. The little twitch of his hips. The subtle way his fingers dragged up your back. The soft, broken whisper of your name.
You pulled back to look at him. His face was flushed, hair curling damply around his ears, pupils still wide and glassy.
“You okay?” you asked again, gentle.
He nodded, but his voice came out hoarse. “Y-Yeah. I’m just… I still want you. Like, really bad. Is that normal?”
You smiled, brushing his lips with yours. “Hmmm. Maybe.”
Matt blinked up at you. “We can keep going, right? I-I know I came already but—” His voice cracked, and he squirmed under you, breath hitching as his soft cock twitched against your thigh. “You’re still hard,” you said softly.
He covered his face with both hands. “I know, I don’t even—like—how?? Fuck you’re ruining me.”
You gently pulled his hands away. “In a good way?”
“In the best way,” he mumbled. “Please keep going.”
And you did.
You kissed your way down his chest, making him squirm and gasp, mouth trailing over sensitive skin and leaving flushed marks behind.
When you took him into your mouth—half-hard, still twitching—he let out the most pathetic sound you'd ever heard.
“F-fuck, you don’t have to—oh my god—”
But you wanted to. And the way he bucked slightly, trying not to, hands twisting the sheets like he was afraid to touch you, made you feral.
You pulled back a bit, letting it pop out of your mouth to speak. “Matt, you’re allowed to be greedy.”
“I’m not! I swear, I just—” He whimpered again as your tongue dragged over the head. “God, I am greedy. I don’t care. I want you so bad it hurts.”
When he got hard again, fully and shamelessly, you moved slowly, sliding back on top of him, watching his face as you sank down again. This time he cried out, high and breathy, thighs trembling under your hands.
“It’s so fucking much,” he panted. “It’s—it’s too much—but don’t stop—please don’t stop—”
You rocked your hips, slower this time, just enough to make him arch into you.
“Tell me what you need.”
“You,” he gasped. “Just you. All of you.”
So you gave it to him.
You took your time, moving against him with slow, grinding rolls. His eyes fluttered, and he gripped your hips like he was trying not to float away.
He got vocal—filthy in a way that surprised even him. Whimpers, moans, broken phrases between gasps:
“Y-you feel so good inside, holy shit—”
“I can’t believe this is real—”
“Please, I’m gonna—gonna come again—”
And when he did, he almost cried.
His body tensed, shuddering, then collapsed into you, face buried against your chest, mumbling soft things you couldn’t quite make out. You held him through it, kissing his forehead as he shook in your arms, your own pleasure humming hot under your skin.
You were just on the brink as well, but you could tell he needed a break.
“I wanna make you feel good too,” he whispered. “Lie back. Please. Let me try.”
You blinked. “You just came twice. You need to rest. ”
“I know,” he whispered. “But I didn’t even get to touch you properly. And I—I think I’ll explode if I don’t.”
You smiled softly. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he cut in. “You made me feel like my whole body was on fire and full of stars at the same time. I want to do that for you. Or at least try.”
Well. How could you say no to that?
You laid back slowly, watching him move between your legs—awkwardly at first, like he wasn’t sure where to put his knees. His cheeks turned scarlet when he got a full view of you, mouth parting in a silent “oh my god.”
You reached for his hair, tugging lightly. “Breathe, baby.”
“I a-am,” he said, sounding like he absolutely was not. “You’re just—you’re so—how am I supposed to—” His sentence died as he kissed your thigh, soft and reverent. “Tell me what to do.”
You guided him at first. Where to put his mouth. How to use his tongue. What kind of pressure felt good. And oh, Matt was a quick study.
Tentative at first—gentle, nervous licks, like he was afraid to go too far. But once you let out that first real moan, he got brave. Gripped your hips tighter. Groaned into you when you said his name. Got messier. Needier.
“Right there?” he gasped when your back arched. “Like that?”
You nodded breathlessly, thighs trembling around his head.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “You taste so good. Why didn’t anyone tell me this would be like—like this?”
He buried his face in you after that, moaning softly, like he was the one getting off. His entire face was trying to push further and further into your sopping pussy, licking up every juice you were letting out.
His nose nudged just right, his tongue flicked faster, and when you clenched his hair and gasped out his name
He groaned loudly.
Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, hot and overwhelming, and Matt just held on, staying there through every aftershock, every twitch, like he refused to come up until he was sure you were completely undone.
When he finally pulled back, his face was soaked down to his chin, lips kiss-swollen, and his smile was dazed and proud.
“I did okay?” he asked, voice hoarse.
You reached down, “M-matt, that was,” dragging him up to kiss you. “Insane.”
He buried his face in your neck and let out a muffled, exhausted, “Best. Day. Ever.”
First time you got jealous
It started off fine.
You and Matt had come to a small get-together at a friend’s apartment—just a cozy group of people, some music, snacks, and low lighting. At first, you were curled up next to him on the couch, his arm draped lazily over your shoulder, the two of you in your own little bubble.
And then she showed up.
You didn’t know her name. You didn’t want to know her name. All you knew was that she laughed a little too hard at Matt’s joke’s, and she touched his arm a little too long when she complimented his hair.
Matt didn’t even notice. He was just being his usual charming self—smiley and sweet, answering her questions like she wasn’t clearly flirting with him while you sat literally two inches away.
You excused yourself to get a drink. More for emotional support than hydration.
When you came back, she was still there, still giggling, and Matt—Matt was smiling— AND blushing, and it was the smile he gave you when you made him laugh.
You plopped down next to him and not-so-subtly rested your hand on his thigh. Matt glanced down and smiled at you, oblivious.
“Hey, you good?” he asked, leaning in slightly.
“I’m great,” you replied, a little too cheerily. Then you turned to the Flirt and said, “Do you need something, or were you just raised to hover?”
Matt choked.
The girl blinked, gave you a weird look, then mumbled something about checking on a friend and walked away. You watched her go like you were manifesting a trapdoor beneath her.
Matt blinked at you, wide-eyed. “Babe…”
You turned to him. “What?”
“She was just being friendly.”
You scoffed. “Friendly? Matt, she was one compliment away from climbing into your lap.”
Matt blinked a few times, still recovering from your snark. “I really think you’re overreacting. She wasn’t flirting.”
You stared at him. “Matt. She touched your arm three times. I counted.”
“She was just... touchy,” he said, weakly. “Some people are just like that.”
You raised an eyebrow. “And you blushed.”
Matt flushed even more. “I didn’t blush.”
“You so blushed. It was your flustered blush too, not the ‘it’s hot in here’ blush. The one that means you’re shy and you liked the attention.”
He opened his mouth to argue, then hesitated. “No-But I wasn’t trying to like it—”
“Oh my God,” you said, pulling your hand from his thigh and crossing your arms. “You did like it.”
Matt looked stricken. “No! That’s not what I—babe, no. I didn’t like her, I liked—it’s just—you weren’t there and someone was being nice and it caught me off guard, and it didn’t mean anything, I swear.”
You didn’t say anything. Just stared straight ahead, jaw tight.
Matt groaned and scooted closer. “Hey. Hey. Look at me.” When you didn’t, he gently cupped your jaw and turned your face toward his. His expression was soft, earnest. “I swear, I didn’t even realize it until you pointed it out. And if it made you feel even a little bit bad, I’m sorry. I would never want you to think anyone could even come close to you. I’m yours. Fully.”
You tried not to melt. Failed.
“…You liked the attention a little bit,” you muttered.
“I swear I didn’t. But like your jealousy? Way hotter. Honestly, if you’d actually fought her I would’ve passed out.”
You rolled your eyes, but leaned in anyway, bumping your nose against his. “Next time someone flirts with you, I’m not warning her. I’m swinging.”
Matt grinned, brushing a kiss to your lips. “Got it. I’ll start wearing a “I have a girlfriend” shirt to social events.”
“You think I won’t get you one?”
He kissed you again, and this time, there was no one else in the room. Just him, you, and the quiet satisfaction of winning.
First time he made you squirt
You were tangled up in your sheets again, the low hum of your fan spinning overhead, the room dim with only the lazy spill of golden-hour light pushing through the curtains. Matt’s fingers were fidgeting with the hem of your sleep shirt, his eyes darting from your collarbone to your lips, then away again, like the sight of you was too much all at once.
“You’re looking at me weird,” you teased, brushing his hair out of his eyes.
Matt flushed. Flushed. That deep pink that crawled from his ears to his cheeks, like you’d caught him doing something scandalous. He groaned softly and buried his face in your neck.
“I’m not,” he mumbled into your skin. “You just—look really pretty right now.”
Your fingers tightened in his hair.
“Right now?” you echoed, grinning. “Not, like, always?”
He whined, lifting his head just enough to glance at you. “Stop. You know what I mean.” He was smiling, but his voice had that hushed, almost whimpery quality it got when he was overwhelmed. You loved it. Loved the way his hands were already slipping up under your shirt like he was asking permission without saying a word.
Matt made a small, needy sound and melted against you, his fingers still trembling just slightly as they traced along your ribs, then lower. When you pulled back to look at him, his pupils were wide, his lips parted.
You were already bare-chested, sitting up and straddling Matt’s lap, but he still looked overwhelmed.
“You’re shaking,” you murmured, smiling against his jaw.
“I’m not—” His voice cracked as you shifted against him. “Okay, yeah. Maybe.”
Your hands slipped into his hair, tugging gently. “You nervous?”
You smirked. “Good.”
Eventually, you flipped them over, guiding him to kneel behind you as you braced on your elbows. You heard his breath hitch when he got the full view. He wasn’t touching you yet—just looking, frozen like you were art he was scared to ruin.
“You can touch,” you teased, voice low and warm.
That broke the spell. Matt’s hands slid over your hips, tentative at first, thumbs brushing the dip of your lower back. You could feel him trembling again, but it didn’t stop him from leaning down and pressing the softest kiss to your spine.
Then another. And another.
His fingers trailed lower, between your thighs, and you let out a quiet gasp as he explored with slow, shallow strokes.
“You okay?” he whispered.
“Yeah,” you breathed. “Feels good. Keep going.”
Matt obeyed instantly, licking his lips like he was trying to stay focused. You could hear his ragged breathing as he slid his fingers inside you—so careful, so hesitant. And when he felt you clench around him, he made the softest sound: “Oh my god…”
His fingers started to curl, slow and searching. He didn’t know exactly what he was doing—he just knew he wanted you to fall apart. That he loved hearing your breath catch, loved the way your thighs trembled the more pressure he added.
He plunged his fingers in and out, leaning down to place his lips around your clit and swirl his tongue around.
You gasped at the contact.
Matt froze. “Was that okay?”
“Yes—fuck, yes—just—don’t stop—”
He didn’t even think. He kept that same pressure, same rhythm, his other hand anchoring tight on your hip as you pushed back into his touch. He was panting now too, overwhelmed, lips parted like he was barely holding it together.
“Matt,” you choked out, “you’re—holy shit—don’t stop—”
It hit fast. A wave crashing through you, intense and blinding. Your body tensed—and then gushed.
Matt jolted as wetness sprayed onto his wrist and thigh. His mouth dropped open.
“What the—” He stared at his soaked fingers. “Did I—?”
You collapsed forward, breathing hard, too stunned to even speak. You’d never—ever—done that before.
Matt sat back on his heels, still blinking like he was in shock. His boxers were damp now. His arm was soaked. He looked wrecked.
“…Did I make you… squirt?” he whispered.
You huffed out a breathless laugh. “O-oh my god.”
He looked down at you like he’d just unlocked a cheat code. Still blushing. Still dazed. And maybe—just a little—proud.
“…That was insane,” he mumbled.
You could only nod, hips still twitching from aftershocks.
Almost hesitantly, he leans forwards and licks you, slurping up the juices.
Matt reached out, brushing his fingertips along your spine. “Can I… still be inside you?”
You turned your head, eyes heavy. “You better be.”
First Anniversary
You hear a soft knock before dawn, and when you open the door, Matt’s there— holding a small, slightly wild bouquet of flowers. They’re not fancy, but perfect. “Happy anniversary,” he says, cheeks pink, eyes bright but shy.
You smile, heart already doing that stupid flutter thing. “You’re early.”
He shrugs, grinning like he’s won something. “I wanted to surprise you. Today’s all planned. No backing out.”
You grab his hand, feeling the warmth that’s not just from the flowers. With a quick motion, he sweeped you around dramatically, kissing you while you leaned back all the way.
You let out a surprised giggle, then put your hands on either side of his face.
“I love you, baby,” you whisper.
His face turns pink and crinkles with joy. “I love you more.”
_______
He lets you change out of pajamas while he waits in the kitchen, and when you come out, he’s set up a little breakfast picnic on the floor: toast, strawberries, whipped cream, and a small thermos of your favorite drink. There’s even a playlist softly playing in the background—he made it himself, and it’s all songs that remind him of you.
You raise a brow. “You made this whole playlist?”
He flushes. “It’s kind of embarrassing. One of them has your name in the lyrics.”
You press a kiss to his cheek. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”
He actually smiles a little when you do that, then tries to play it cool and offers you a strawberry like that will make him less flustered.
After breakfast, he hands you a tiny envelope.
“Open it when I tell you,” he says mysteriously. “No peeking.”
Then he leads you outside, clearly trying to hide how excited he is. You walk to a small park you used to visit all the time when you first got together. There, under your favorite tree, is a little setup: two foldable lawn chairs, a sketchbook, and a small box of supplies.
“I thought… maybe we could draw each other.”
You waggle your eyebrows and grin. “Like one of your French girls?”
“No—!” His face flushes. “I—I mean if you want? I—!”
“I’m messing with you, Matt.” You’re laughing as you sit across from him, and the two of you draw, occasionally glancing up at each other and bursting into giggles.
Lunch is homemade—by him. He packed it himself: sandwiches with little hearts cut into the bread (yes really), a tiny note tucked under the tupperware that says “ur hot and I love you :)”
You keep the note.
In the afternoon, he takes you to a local art exhibit—something quiet and beautiful. You walk through slowly, sometimes holding hands, sometimes just letting your pinkies brush. He leans in close during one painting and whispers, “That one reminds me of the way you look when you’re sleepy.”
You turn to find him already looking at you.
“I’m so glad I met you.” you whisper.
He ducks his head with a smile. “Me too. You have no idea.”
As the sun starts to set, he finally lets you open the envelope.
Inside is a small card and a single pressed flower from the first bouquet he ever gave you.
On the back is a list:
“Reasons I’ve loved you every day this year.” There’s 365 of them.
“I was gonna just write one,” he says, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “But then… I couldn’t stop.”
You fling your arms around him and don’t let go for a while.
That night, he cuddles you in bed, forehead pressed to yours, still pink when you say he’s the sweetest boy on earth. He mumbles something into your neck you don’t quite catch.
“What was that?” you whisper.
“I said I’m gonna love you for a lot more years.”
You kiss him again.
He kisses back— entirely, completely yours.
FINALLY.
It’s just after sunset when he takes your hand.
The sky is that kind of soft—streaked with violet and gold like it’s blushing for you—and there’s a quietness in the air that feels intentional. Like even the wind knows what’s coming.
“Come with me,” he says gently, fingers warm in yours.
You follow him up a familiar path—a small hill where the two of you used to come to watch the stars back when you were still unsure of what this was. It’s quieter now. Grown. Like both of you.
At the top, there’s nothing fancy. No flowers. No decorations. Just a soft, folded blanket, and a lantern that glows like candlelight in the middle. He lights it with a flick of his thumb and sits down, patting the space next to him.
You sit. And your heart starts thudding when you see he’s nervous.
Not shy nervous.
Trembling-hands, can’t-meet-your-eyes nervous.
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Breathes in.
“I’ve been trying to plan the perfect way to tell you this,” he says, voice quieter than usual.
You tilt your head, completely obvious and confused. “Matt, are you good? You can tell me anything you know.”
He grins at that, but doesn’t look at you right away. He picks at the edge of the blanket instead, like he’s walking himself toward something.
“I know,” he says finally. “That’s kind of the problem. You make everything too easy. I had this whole dramatic thing planned. Flashy. Big. Public.” He glances at you. “You would’ve hated it.”
You snort. “Correct.”
He laughs again, but this time, his eyes flick to yours and hold. His hand slides over to yours, fingers curling between yours slow and deliberate.
“So I thought maybe I’d just take you here,” he says, “where it all started. Just us. The stars. A blanket. Like the first time you made fun of my hoodie and accidentally made me fall in love with you.”
You’re still grinning, still thinking this is just some sweet, nostalgic moment on a hill you both love.
He shifts onto one knee.
You still don’t register it.
You’re smiling at him, waiting for the punchline, until you realize—
he’s still down.
And he’s pulling something out of his jacket.
Your heart stutters.
“Matt,” you say, a whisper.
“I didn’t want you to see it coming,” he says softly. “Because I want this to feel like how it’s always felt with you—sudden. And perfect. And exactly where I’m meant to be.”
He opens the box, and the ring inside catches the warm flicker of the lantern light.
You go still.
Completely, utterly still.
“I love you,” he says. No trembling. No hesitation. Just truth. “And I want to keep loving you. In every version of our life, every phase, every morning-after and fight and late-night grocery run I love you more than anything in this entire world, and I will spend the rest of my life for you, with you.”
A moment passes.
“Will you marry me?”
You stare at him.
Your hand is over your mouth. Your chest is a mess. There are tears in your eyes and you don’t even remember them starting.
“Are you—Matt, are you serious?”
He smiles—wide and boyish and a little cocky now. “Yeah. Been serious for a while.”
You’re grabbing his face and kissing him so hard you both fall sideways onto the blanket, the box somewhere between you, forgotten for now because—
“I love you I love you I love you,” you whisper again, voice breaking against his skin as you pepper kisses across his cheeks, his jaw, his mouth. “I can’t believe you just did that!”
He’s blinking up at you, stunned by the force of it. “Is that a yes?”
“YES!!” You shout it. “YES—of course it’s a yes—you insane, incredible, perfect man!”
He lets out a choked little laugh and finally gets the ring on your finger, both of you shaking, neither of you letting go.
“I was trying to be smooth,” he mumbles into your neck.
“You ambushed me,” you giggle back. “I didn’t see it coming at all.”
And he smiles, eyes bright, because your heart’s still racing, and your hands are still clutching his shirt, and you keep whispering—
“I love you I love you I love you,”
Like you’ll never get tired of saying it.
And he’ll never, ever, ever get tired of hearing it.
a/n- if you got this far, I LOVE YOU!
i put my entire soul into this fic, and I am praying to every god that this doesnt flop and people are actually willing to read all 15,000 words.
if this does flop, i'm going to release each part as an au, bc i worked way too hard on this for people to not read it.
Summary: you get your nails done, and can’t please yourself, so your best friend Chris helps you out.
Warnings: smut, clit stimulation, fwb?
WC: 1.4K
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
You were curled up on the couch next to your best friend Chris, a half eaten bowl of popcorn between you, some mindless movie playing in the background. But you hadn’t been paying attention for the last twenty minutes. Your new set of long, sharp nails looked amazing. But they were driving you crazy for all the wrong reasons.
You shifted in your seat, squeezing your thighs together subtly, trying to ease the ache building inside you. Chris glanced over, eyes dropping to your hands.
“Damn, those are nice,” he said, lifting your hand to inspect the design. “I like this color on you.”
You let out a small, exasperated laugh.
“What?” he asked, smiling. “Why are you laughing?”
You shook your head, looking away. “Nothing..it’s just been frustrating.”
He raised a brow. “Frustrating how?”
You hesitated. “I don’t think I’ll get them this long again.”
He leaned a little closer. “Why not? They look so good.”
You hesitated, lips parting like you wanted to say something, then chickened out. “It’s- never mind.”
Chris turned his whole body toward you now, interest piqued. “No seriously. What’s up? Talk to me.”
You gave him a look, cheeks heating. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“I might,” he said with a teasing smirk. “Try me.”
You sighed, avoiding his gaze as you mumbled, “I can’t really.. um- touch myself properly. Not with these claws.”
There was a beat of silence before Chris let out a low laugh, eyes widening. “Oh, uh damn. That’s what you meant?”
You nodded, cheeks hot.
He leaned in just a little more, eyes darkening as he smirked. “So what, you’ve just been sitting here next to me, all worked up, and didn’t say a word?”
You bit your lip, heart racing. “Well what was I supposed to say Chris?”
He chuckled under his breath, then murmured, “Maybe something like, ‘Help me out?’”
Your eyes snapped to his, breath catching.
And that look he gave you, mischievous, a little cocky, and very aware, sent a whole new wave of heat through you.
You looked at him, heart pounding.
“Chris..we’re just friends,” you said softly. “You can’t help me with that.”
His eyes didn’t leave yours. “Why not?” he murmured, a hint of something darker in his voice. “I’ll help you out.”
He shifted closer, his thigh brushing yours as his hand slid gently onto your upper thigh, his touch warm through the fabric.
“I mean.. only if you’re okay with it,” he said, his voice low, gaze flicking from your lips to your eyes.
Your breath caught, every nerve suddenly on fire. You nodded. barely, but it was all the permission he needed.
His hand moved to your face, fingers brushing your cheek as he tilted your chin up and kissed you. It wasn’t soft,it was hungry, heated, like he’d been holding back just as much as you had.
As his lips moved against yours, he felt your thighs instinctively press together, your body reacting without permission. He pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his voice a little rough.
“You really have been suffering, huh?”
Chris leaned back in, kissing you again, deeper this time, his lips claiming yours like he’d been dying to all along.
“Please, help me,” you whispered against his mouth, a soft moan slipping out with your words.
His breath hitched. Without breaking the kiss, his hands found the waistband of your tiny shorts, tugging them down with ease, along with your underwear, and tossing them aside like they were in his way.
“Fuck-” he mumbled, pulling back just enough to glance down. “You’re so wet.”
You whimpered, your cheeks flushed as he ran two fingers slowly up your slick folds, spreading the heat that had been building all night.
“Damn,” Chris chuckled under his breath, teasing you with lazy strokes. “You really needed this, huh?”
“Mhm,” you moaned, your head falling back, lips parted as his fingers found your clit. He started rubbing slow, steady circles, gentle but deliberate making your thighs twitch and your breath hitch.
“Just relax,” he murmured, his voice low, right by your ear. “Let me take care of you.”
You sank back into the pillow, eyes fluttering shut as Chris shifted beside you, lying on his side to stay close. His fingers never stopped moving between your legs, slow, steady.
You were a moaning mess beneath his touch, hips twitching, breath coming out in shaky gasps. And Chris? He was eating up every second of it.
The way you squirmed, the way your body reacted to him, it drove him crazy.
“Does that feel good?” he whispered low in your ear, his voice rough with arousal.
“Oh my god, yeah,” you moaned, barely able to speak.
The pleasure was building fast, overwhelming and hot, and your hands moved up your own body instinctively. You lifted your shirt just enough to expose your chest, fingers immediately finding your nipples and rolling them gently between your fingertips, amplifying everything he was doing to you.
Chris glanced down and let out a breathy laugh, watching your hand, your flushed skin, your parted lips.
“You’re so fucking sexy like this,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss your neck as his fingers kept working you toward the edge.
Chris’s fingers slowed slightly, the pressure on your clit easing just enough to make you whine from the sudden tease. You bucked your hips a little, chasing the friction, but he just smirked and held you steady with his free hand.
“Easy,” he whispered against your neck. “Don’t rush it. I wanna feel you fall apart slow.”
You whimpered in frustration, but it only made him go softer, light, lazy circles on your clit, just enough to keep you aching. You could feel how wet you were, how slick his fingers had become, and the fact that he hadn’t even touched himself yet made it all so much hotter.
“You’re not fair,” you panted, dragging your nails lightly across your stomach as your other hand played with your nipple.
He laughed low. “I know. But you’re so perfect like this, squirming, needy.”
His fingers dipped down, teasing your entrance before sliding back up, then pressing harder on your clit again, finally giving you the rhythm your body was begging for. Your hips lifted, meeting each motion as he rubbed tight circles with his two fingers, watching your face twist with pleasure.
“Just like that,” you gasped, head tilting back.
“Yeah?” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. “You close, baby?”
You nodded, barely able to form words. Your legs were shaking, your body tense, every muscle coiled tight around the building pressure in your core.
He pressed a soft kiss just under your jaw. “Let go for me.”
And with one more perfect flick, his fingers rubbing faster, deeper, you did.
Your body arched off the bed, breath catching in your throat as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through you. Your thighs clenched around his hand, your moans spilling out raw and unfiltered as your orgasm crashed over you.
Chris slowed his fingers, guiding you through it, whispering things you couldn’t even fully hear over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “So fucking beautiful when you cum.”
You collapsed against the pillow, still panting, body trembling and spent, but completely satisfied.
You were still catching your breath, chest rising and falling as the aftershocks of your orgasm slowly faded. Chris lay beside you, propped up on one elbow, watching you with a smug little smirk and something softer in his eyes.
You turned your head toward him, lips parted, still slightly dazed. “Chris-“
“Yeah?” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
You gave a small, breathless laugh, cheeks warm. “Thank you.”
His brow lifted. “For what?”
You smiled shyly, fingers reaching for his. “For making me cum like that.”
He chuckled low, clearly pleased. “Anytime,” he said, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Really. I mean it.”
You giggled, squeezing his hand. “I’ve seriously never felt it that good before.”
Chris grinned, brushing his thumb across your knuckles. “Good. You deserved it.”
You looked at him for a moment, really looked, and felt something shift. A quiet kind of affection humming under the heat.
“Best friend ever,” you teased softly.
He laughed, eyes crinkling. “Yoi say that now, wait for round two.”
The faint sound of the door unlocking was what stirred you first, though you were too deep in sleep to care much. You barely shifted under the blanket, tugging it closer and letting the warmth pull you back under.
But the next thing you registered was heavier. A quiet thud. The sound of keys dropped carelessly to the counter. The floor creaking softly under boots.
And then — the scent. That sharp, clean, masculine cologne that always clung to him mixed with something sweatier, heavier.
The mattress dipped, and you felt warm fingers brush your cheek.
“Baby…”
It was a low whisper, hoarse and rough. The way it scraped through your haze finally forced you to crack your eyes open, just barely.
There he was, crouched at the edge of the bed. Hair messy. His hoodie unzipped, t-shirt clinging to his chest. His eyes dark and locked on you like you were the only thing in the room.
“Matt?” you mumbled, your voice thick and sleepy. “You’re home…?”
His lips lifted faintly at the corner, but it wasn’t really a smile. More of a pained grimace. His thumb dragged along your jawline.
“Couldn’t wait ‘til morning,” he said, voice low and rough like he hadn’t spoken in hours. His eyes dropped to the hem of the hoodie you were wearing — his hoodie — riding up just enough to expose your thighs.
“Missed you too much.”
You let out a little laugh and nuzzled back into the pillow, already drifting again.
“M’too tired… can’t.”
Matt froze for a beat — and then something in him snapped.
“Please, baby,” he whispered roughly, leaning closer, kissing down your neck and shoulder, his breath hot against your skin.
“Please. I need it. Need you. Been thinking about you every night out there. Couldn’t touch myself, couldn’t sleep — just thinking about this pussy, how good you sound, how sweet you taste. Baby… please.”
You hummed, still half-asleep, and he groaned — actually groaned — before growling at your ear:
“Say yes. Need you to say yes. You can’t just lie there all sweet like this and tell me no. Please, baby, I’ll take care of you. Won’t even make you move, promise.”
That desperate, pleading tone did something to you.
“Fine,” you mumbled finally, blinking up at him, and the way his shoulders dropped and his eyes darkened almost made you laugh.
“Yes?” he said, already pawing at the hem of your hoodie.
You rolled your eyes, a faint smile playing at your lips. “Yes, Matt.”
He groaned — loudly — and that was all it took.
The hoodie was off you before you could even sit up properly. Matt pushed you back into the pillows, his hands roaming hungrily over every inch of bare skin, murmuring “God, you’re so fucking soft” against your stomach before biting at your hip.
Your panties hit the floor without ceremony. His fingers slid between your thighs, finding you already slick. He moaned out loud at that, his forehead dropping to your knee as his fingers pumped in and out lazily at first.
“Oh, baby… you missed me too, huh? Look at you already soaking. That’s it. Let me feel it.”
He kissed his way back up your body as his fingers kept working you open, then pulled back just long enough to strip completely. You barely had time to admire how good he looked before he was between your thighs again, pressing into you with one hard, deep thrust that knocked the air from your lungs.
“Oh, fuck—” you gasped, clutching at his shoulders.
“Shhh, baby, I know,” he groaned against your neck, already moving, already setting a punishing pace that had the headboard knocking faintly against the wall.
“Been dreaming about this every single fucking night. You have no idea.”
You let out a little cry and whispered, “Matt, slow down, baby… s’too much—”
That made him falter — just for a second — his breath hitching hard against your neck.
“Oh, fuck… you can’t say shit like that to me right now, baby… can’t—”
He whimpered — actually whimpered — his hips stuttering, his whole body tight above you.
“I’m so fucking close already… you feel too good…”
But he didn’t slow down. If anything, your quiet plea lit something hotter in him. His fingers dug into your hips as he slammed harder, his low moans turning into something downright desperate and loud, filling the room.
“Shit, shit, shit, baby, I can’t— fuck—”
“Matt—!”
“I’m not stopping. Gonna fill you up so good, baby. You’re mine. All fucking mine—”
You whimpered his name, clinging to him, as he buried himself to the hilt and groaned loud and unrestrained, his hips jerking as he spilled inside you.
But even after, he didn’t stop. He stayed pressed deep, rocking into you with softer, slower rolls of his hips now, muttering almost feverishly into your ear.
“please mama i need more. i want it.” he pants above you kissing your forehead softly.
Matt’s chest was heavy on yours as he caught his breath, his hair sticking damply to his forehead, his lips still pressed to your neck. Even though his thrusts had slowed to a lazy, shallow grind, he hadn’t pulled out yet.
You were still trembling under him, still stretched and sensitive, and you could feel how hard he was again already, even though he’d just come.
After a long, quiet moment, you whispered, “Matt…?”
But he just groaned low in his throat and shifted his weight, sliding one hand under your knee to hook it higher over his hip.
“Can’t stop yet.” His voice was rough and shaky, but full of determination. “Not done with you. Not even close.”
You gasped softly as he withdrew almost all the way before pushing back in with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips that made you arch up toward him.
“You feel that? Still so tight for me. Still fucking perfect. Think you can give me another, sweetheart?”
You nodded weakly — but he growled, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to meet his dark eyes.
“Don’t nod. Say it.”
“Y-yes, Matt,” you breathed.
“That’s my good girl,” he muttered, pressing his forehead to yours as he started to move again, faster this time.
Then — without warning — he sat back on his knees again, dragging you down the bed until he had you in his lap like before. But now he hooked both of your legs over his shoulders, folding you nearly in half, watching himself slide in and out of you over and over.
“Look at that,” he murmured, his hands gripping your thighs so tight it almost hurt. “Look at how fucking good you take it. This is mine — you hear me? All mine.”
“Yours,” you whimpered.
“Say it again.”
“Yours, Matt. All yours.”
“Damn right,” he groaned, hips snapping into you harder, his breath coming faster.
And then — just when you thought you couldn’t take any more — he leaned forward again, keeping your legs folded tight, his teeth finding your shoulder, biting just enough to make you cry out as his hand slid between your bodies.
“Wanna feel you come again, baby,” he panted against your ear. “Come on. Let me feel it. Wanna hear you scream my name while you soak me.”
His fingers found your clit, circling it fast and rough, matching the frantic pace of his hips, and the combination of the stretch, the angle, the filthy things he kept whispering — it pushed you over fast.
“Matt— oh my god—”
You clenched around him hard as you came again, and he lost it, groaning loudly into your neck and driving into you deep, filling you a second time with a shuddering gasp.
But even then… he didn’t stop.
His hips kept moving, slower now but insistent, like he couldn’t bear to let the moment end. He kissed you everywhere he could reach — your cheek, your jaw, your collarbone — murmuring, “That’s it, baby… good girl… you’re so perfect for me… so fucking good…”
He finally collapsed over you again, his body covering yours completely, but his hips still gave a few weak, lazy thrusts, like even in exhaustion he needed to feel himself inside you.
You ran your fingers through his hair as his breathing evened out, and he whispered softly, almost to himself:
“Missed you so much, baby… couldn’t sleep without you. Don’t ever make me leave you again… fuck…”
You reached up and cupped his cheek, breathless, and he finally collapsed fully on top of you, wrapping his arms tight around your waist.
“Go back to sleep, baby,” he murmured finally, still catching his breath. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you. Always.”
You smiled faintly and tangled your fingers in his messy hair, whispering, “Always.”
warnings ᝰ.ᐟ sub!chris, soft dom!reader, pet names ; mommy, good boy & baby, pnv, cowgirl, mommy kink, teasing, praise, lmk if i missed smt <3
your hips move slow, steady, drawing desperate little sounds out of him with every roll. chris is flushed deep down to his chest, arms stretched above his head, hands fisting the sheets like that’s the only thing grounding him.
“f—fuck,” he whimpers, head tipping back, hair sticking to his forehead. “please—please don’t stop, feels s—so good!” you grind deeper, dragging the motion out. “i’m not stopping, baby, you’re doing so good for me.” you coo.
that makes him choke on a breath, thighs trembling beneath you. he’s right there—so close, so far gone. you lean in, pressing your lips against his, biting on his bottom lip gently, making him moan out. you pull back, only to see him avoiding your gaze.
“look at me, chris.” he blinks up at you, eyes glossy, lips parted. “i—i can’t—,” he breathes, completely unraveling. “feels so—!” you cut him off. “shh,” you murmur breathlessly, hand in his hair. “just take it.” you kiss down his jaw, soft and slow, and the way he arches into you makes you ache.
he’s so needy. so desperate. so, you give him what he wants, rolling your hips with just enough pressure to knock the air out of his lungs. his head falls back against the pillow and that’s when it slips. “ah—ahh.. mommy—” you still. so does he. it’s barely above a whisper, but you hear it. and so does he.
his eyes snap open, panic flooding his face. “i—i didn’t mean—” he stammers, voice cracking. “oh my god—i didn’t mean to say that, i’m sorry—” you tilt your head, eyes dark, lips curled into a wicked smirk. “did you just call me mommy?” he groans and turns his head, like he can hide from you. from himself.
“i didn’t mean to—i was just—i wasn’t thinking..” you move again, slow and deep, and his whole body jerks like he’s been shocked. “chris,” you whisper, hand laid across his chest. “i was just making you feel too good, huh?” he nods quickly, too embarrassed to speak. his face is bright red, eyes glossy, bottom lip trembling.
and still—still his hips twitch up, chasing more. “you’re so needy today,” you murmur, lips grazing his cheek. a wrecked sound comes from his throat, somewhere between a moan and a sob. he’s holding back, and you can see it—in the tension in his arms, the way his legs twitch beneath you.
“say it again.” his eyes go wide. “w—what?” you bring your mouth to his ear, your voice sweet as sugar. “say it again. call me mommy.” his breath catches hard. he looks like he’s about to fall apart right then and there. “please—please, mommy, don’t stop—need it so bad—need you to keep going, please—”
“that’s it,” you whisper, dragging your hips with a slow grind that pulls a filthy cry from his lips. “such a good boy.” he breaks. completely. he’s babbling now, words slurred and soaked in pleasure until you finally lean in, kiss beneath his jaw, and give him what he’s begging for. he comes hard, sobbing out your name into your shoulder, shaking, trembling, clinging to you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.
Matt Sturniolo always found little ways to show he cared, but his favorite? Doing his girlfriend’s lip gloss. Specifically, the Rhode gloss she swore by — the perfect soft rosy shade that caught the light just right.
It had started a few weeks ago, completely by accident, on one of those lazy Saturday mornings when nothing urgent was on their schedule. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, digging through her makeup bag for the gloss before they headed out. Matt was leaning in the doorway, arms folded, watching with a grin.
“Hey,” he said, voice casual but with a mischievous edge. “Give me that.”
She held up the slim tube of lip gloss. “Matt, it’s just lip gloss.”
“Exactly. I want to do it.” He stepped forward, tilting his head. “C’mon. Let me.”
She laughed, shaking her head but handing it over anyway. “You’re ridiculous.”
Matt knelt in front of her, holding her chin gently with one hand as he twisted the cap off with the other. “Tilt up.” His eyes were warm, focused like he was about to perform some delicate magic. Carefully, he swept the gloss onto her lips, slow and steady, making sure to cover every curve perfectly.
When he finished, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth, tasting the gloss. “See? Better than you could do yourself.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled, the corners of her lips curling up. “Okay, maybe a little better.”
From then on, it became their thing.
Later that day, getting ready to leave, she reached for her gloss. Matt’s hand shot out faster than she expected.
“Let me.”
She sighed dramatically but lifted her chin anyway. He grinned, twisting the cap, dipping the wand, and applying it with the same care as before. Then, just as before, he kissed her lips—this time with a little more warmth.
“Perfect,” he said, standing back and admiring his handiwork like a proud artist.
“Obsessed,” she teased.
“Can’t help it.”
In the car on the way to get coffee, she pulled the gloss out again, glancing in the mirror.
Before she could do anything, Matt reached over and took it from her.
“You’re lucky I’m a perfectionist,” he said with a smirk.
“Perfectionist or control freak?” she teased.
He chuckled, leaning in to reapply a touch as she tilted her head. “Doesn’t matter. You look amazing.”
She caught his eyes in the mirror and smiled softly.
Later, at the park, they were sitting on a bench, sunlight filtering through the trees. She took the gloss out again to reapply, but Matt was already sliding closer.
“I got this,” he said, already holding the tube.
She let him, laughing quietly when he made exaggerated “artist” faces as he applied it.
Nick and Chris found them a few minutes later. Nick nudged Matt with a smirk.
“Bro, you really do the lip gloss thing?”
Matt shrugged, grinning. “She lets me.”
Chris laughed. “Of course she does.”
She just smiled, leaning her head on Matt’s shoulder.
That evening, back at the apartment, Matt’s hands were warm and steady as he applied the gloss one last time before they settled in for a movie.
“You know,” she said, smiling up at him, “it’s kind of adorable.”
Matt kissed her again, quiet and soft. “Good. Because I plan on doing it forever.”
