⋮ ⌗ ─ thinking a lot about helping out 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐘!𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓 lately!! . . . or in other words, getting his glasses all fogged up while he’s got his head buried between your thighs like your body is his favorite subject ;p 𓂃 ꒱
𝐖𝐂: 964
his weeks being full of exams and studying. him spending hourssss sat in front of thick textbooks and scribbled notes, focused so hard the wrinkle in his forehead has started to grow deeper, highlighter ink smudged across his fingers, half-empty energy drinks littering his desk, rereading the same paragraph over and over, and for the first time in matt’s life the information isn’t just sticking.
and you notice almost immediately how much it’s really affecting him, picking up on the way his shoulders stay tense even in his sleep, the quiet frustration he tries to hide behind his soft, lopsided smiles. so you take it upon yourself to help, spending hours holed up in your sorority house making color coded, themed flashcards for him, little doodles in the corners, sections split between the integumentary system and nervous system just to make it easier on him. whatever the fuck those are.
it was supposed to be a harmless, supportive study session.
it somehow, and very quickly at that, turned into you, ass up, face smushed awkwardly into his stack of pillows. muffled moans and questions about the tactile corpuscles with matt’s tongue shoved deep into your slick folds. a mixture of his saliva and your arousal dripping down your thighs, no doubt pooling underneath you onto his mattress. you almost felt guilty knowing the mess you were making, that he’d have to stay up even later waiting on it in the campus laundry room but ultimately the pleasure overrode the guilt by a long shot.
“matt—! oh my god!” you cry out as he presses the flat of his tongue against your clit, humming in satisfaction at the taste and the reaction it pulls from you, the vibrations causing your legs to shake and your back to arch. you’d think he would be tired after studying for so many hours, but he’s showing no signs of slowing down, lapping at you like a dehydrated animal that had finally been given water.
you feel him pull away, the cool air of the room hitting your slickness causing you to shiver. you’re about to whine at the loss, about to protest with him, but you’re quickly cut off, a sharp gasp leaving your lips as you feel two of his long, slender fingers push into you with a squelch.
“t-tha— the…oh, f-fuck…the tactile corpuscles…” you try, you really do try to stick with the original plan. the exam being tomorrow is a pressing thought in the back of your mind, but how could he expect you to do this? to read off questions while he does…that?
his fingers curl against that spongy spot deep inside you, a spot he’s grown to know so well.
“located in the…dermal papillae…” your breath hitches, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he reattaches his mouth to your cunt, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking softly. the added stimulation from both his tongue and fingers is almost overstimulating, but fuck, it’s too good for you to even care.
“r-responsible for…uhm— responding to…light pressure.” your fingers curl into the sheets, knuckles turning white as you grip them for dear life, the words on the flashcard beginning to blur as your eyes start to well with tears.
matt pulls back slightly to look up at you from between your legs, face shiny with a mixture of spit and your slick, glasses askew and fogged up, pupils blown wide. a lazy smirk pulls at the corners of his lips. “light pressure huh?” he mutters, more to himself than to you, before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your clit, tongue swirling in a way that makes you see stars.
“and what about these? the pacinian corpuscles?” he whispers against you, his breath hot. you glance down at the flashcard, the one you’d drawn a little cartoon of a spring on. your brain feels fuzzy, the words on the card not quite registering anymore.
“they’re…deeper…” you manage to get out, your voice shaky and breathless. “they detect…vibrations…” you trail off into a moan as he speeds up the motion of his fingers, curling and scissoring them inside you, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit.
“vibrations,” he repeats, his voice low and husky, a smirk still playing on his lips. “got it.” he pulls his fingers out, the emptiness almost painful, and replaces them with his tongue, fucking it in and out of you at a relentless pace. your body tenses, that familiar coil tightening in your stomach as your orgasm builds.
“matt—matt please,” you beg, your hips bucking against his face, chasing your high. he just hums in response, the sound vibrating through you and sending you right over the edge. you cum with a cry, your hips pushing back into his face as your body shakes with the force of your orgasm, your release flooding his tongue.
he laps up every last drop, not letting a single bit go to waste, helping you ride out your high before he finally pulls away, chuckling to himself at the way your body fall limp onto the bed. you’re panting, trying to catch your breath as he crawls up the bed to lie beside you, a triumphant grin on his face.
“so,” he says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “pacinian corpuscles detect deep pressure and vibrations, right?” he asks, as if he hadn’t just completely ruined your ability to form a coherent thought. you just nod, your body still trembling.
“good. i think i’m finally starting to get it.” he sighs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
ⁱⁿ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ staring at dealerᵎᵎchris’s gun tucked in the waistband of his pants had your thoughts running 100 mph.
“damn kid what you doin be careful” chris said as you sat on his lap directly on the gun resting in his waistband, his words went in one ear and out the other as you place soft kisses on his neck slowly grinding down onto the gun. moving his arm to remove the gun from his pants you halt your movements gripping his arm "keep it there" Chris lets out a breathy scoff looking at you "keep it there?" "please Chris" you whine grinding down harder letting your head fall onto his shoulder. Chris was in awe at the sight, never seeing this side of you before, looking so fucking pathetic."fuck baby look at you" he breathes out digging his fingers in your thighs helping your sloppy movements. it felt so good. your head going fuzzy as soft moans left your lips "please" you whine not even 100% sure what you were begging for. you just needed more. "please what hm? im gonna need more than that baby" "need you to touch me so bad please" you breath out a whiny moan the hard gun resting in his pants rubbing against you perfectly. chris lets out a hum and lays you on your back on the couch, placing soft kisses on your inner thighs teasingly "chris stop teasing..want you to touch me with your gun" you mumbled the last part quietly, not sure how chris would take it. but he heard you. and he was more then happy to agree to the idea "you sure mama?" you nod quickly letting out a string of quiet begs. Chris smirks pulling the gun from his waistband and unloading it, throwing the clip to the side. slowly tracing the gun up your thighs and brushing it over your thin silky shorts that Chris loves so much. you whine bucking your hips making chris's smirk grow "aw look at you baby,can see how wet you are through your shorts." Chris pulls your shorts down mouth watering at the sight of your glistening cunt before gently placing the cold tip of the gun flat against your clit causing you to let out a gasp 'o-oh" Chris is enjoying every second of this. the way your mouth is hung open, the way your hips bucked into the gun. it was enough to make him cum in his pants right there. choked moans left your lips as he circled the cold tip around your clit slowly. he couldn't help but grind his hips into the couch at the sight. you looked to pretty. "m..more please" Chris could barely understand you, taking a min for it to really process before he's back to smirking like an idiot rubbing the tip of the gun teasingly over your entrance "such a pathetic slut" he breathed out before slowly sliding the tip of the gun into you looking up at your face to make sure he wasn't hurting you. once he seen nothing but pure pleasure on your face he looked back down at your dripping cunt before moving the gun in and out of you causing your back to arch and choked sobs to leave your lips. chris continued to grind into the couch as he watched the tip of 𝒉𝒊𝒔 gun sliding in and out of 𝒉𝒊𝒔 girl. it was the prettiest sight he has ever seen "such a pathetic girl look at you all fucked out on my gun hm" he knew you were close with your body spasming "come on baby let go for me you can do it" he licks his lips before he's sucking and lapping at your clit adding onto the pleasure of his gun sliding in and out of you "just let go mama." your stomach tightened as your pleasure built up mumbling mindless babbles and curses as your orgasm crashes over you. "atta girl" chris slowly slides his gun out of you before bringing it up to your lips watching you lick around the tip of it "fuck baby your gonna have to use your mouth on me like that next."
it was safe to say that matt was a huge softie when it came to affection. he just needed your attention, no matter what. you could be watching movies and he would whine and pout at the fact that you weren't giving him enough attention.
he sighed dramatically as he leaned against you, resting his head on your shoulder. “pay attention to me,” he whined, pouting like a child. “not right now matt, m’watching a movie”
he groaned and slumped even more against your shoulder, practically melting into you at this point. “don't care, pay attention to me instead.” he mumbled, his voice slightly muffled. as he was leaning against you, you couldn't help but notice the slight bulge in his sweatpants.
he couldn't help but feel impatient, wanting your attention right away. so he started to subtly hump the side of your thigh, being extra needy. the contact made him feel a bit needy, making him pout even more, looking up at you with pleading eyes.
his body pressed even tighter against you, the friction against your thigh building up. he let out soft, needy little whimpers, his grip on you tightening. he needed just a little bit more, something to push him over the edge; something from you.
he looked up at you, pleading, begging. "please…" “aw can’t cum without mama?” he whined at your teasing tone, pouting even more, his cheeks flushing a little at the nickname. "no…need you…please mama…" he mumbled, looking up at you.
“aw sweet boy” he couldn't help the whine that slipped from his lips at your words, feeling a mix of embarrassment and neediness. "mama please…" he mumbled again, his eyes pleading. he needed the attention, needed the affection he knew you could give him.
“lay back on the couch sweetie” once matt listened you slowly started to pump his pretty cock. he shuddered at your touch, his body immediately responding to the attention he so desperately needed.
his eyes fluttered shut for a moment before opening again, still watching you. "n-need more.." he whimpered, struggling to keep his voice from trembling. “hmm… and what do we say when we want something?” he swallowed hard, trying to gather himself enough to say the words.
"p-please…please mama.." “there you go, good boy matty” you increased the speed of your hand was pumping him. he clenched his fists at his sides, trying desperately to keep himself from squirming too much. “oh..!" he gasped, his body jerking slightly from the touch. "mm..feels so good.." he whined, closing his eyes.
“doing so good sweetheart” he clenched his teeth, trying to contain the sounds that were threatening to spill from his lips."y-yes mommy, feels so good, ngh, ffuuck…" your touch. the feeling of your hand on him was almost too much, but he never wanted it to end.
he looked up at you, his eyes glazed with desire and desperation. "please, don't stop.." he managed to whisper, his voice hoarse. little spills and leaks of pre-cum spilled from his tip. “you close pretty boy?”
his body trembled slightly, the pre-cum making him feel even more needy and desperate. "y-yes.." he whimpered, his eyes pleading. "please, i'm so close..need it, please.." he whined, his voice quivering a little. he squeezed his eyes shut, his breaths coming in short pants as you focused on his tip.
his body tensed, muscles clenching as he finished. "f-fuck..please, please, please.." he cried out he felt like he was about to explode, his words dissolving into needy whines and whimpers. “goood boy”
𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: in which Matt is failing his classes and at risk of having to repeat the semester, and his tutor is the reason behind it.
𝕯𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗: This is a collaborative story that me and another person started on, but I was given permission to edit and continue it, and I am in charge of it now :) All characters in this story are of age. None of the characters are minors. All previous parts are linked beneath the word count.
𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: cursing / smut / switch!matt / switch!fem reader / male masturbation / wet dreams / use of good boy / virgin!matt / p in v / oral (fem receiving) / oral (male receiving) / overstimulation / breeding kink / praise kink / mommy kink / scenes mentioning anxiety
𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 8145
Previous parts: Intro / One / Two / Three / Four
X O X O X O
No lights glowed outside as Matt slowed to a stop, gravel crunching under the van tires. The house seemed empty and devoid of life. He opened his phone and checked the message again - 1209 Cherokee Parks - I’m in the right place…
She started typing and his breath hitched in his throat. Does she know that I’m here? How could she know that? Was she watching for me? Waiting for me??
Come around the back it’s unlocked.
His heart thundered as Matt turned off the engine and stepped out of the car, pressing the button on his key fob, the car chirping in the silence that surrounded the neighborhood like a cozy blanket on a cool evening. He flinched, the sound breaking that silence, and he made a beeline for her house, or more so the shadows to keep from linking himself to the late night disturbance. A privacy fence ran the length of the sidewalk but it didn’t take him long to find the gate, and less time to slip through it, the rusty hinges groaning softly as he pushed the wooden door open. He made sure to secure the door shut, taking the time to lock it properly.
“Get inside.”
He jolted, whipping around to meet her face to face, but his heart thundered as all he was met with was the eerie shadows of the night. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, terrified by the voice from the darkness. She stepped out of a shadowed doorway and tilted her head inward. “Come on.” The moonlight glimmered in her eyes, her hair reflecting beams of hazy gray light. Her face held no emotion, and Matt swallowed. He was in a lot of trouble, and he knew it.
Matt obeyed, silent as the grave. How do you apologize to someone for…what I did? ‘Hey sorry I’m a horny freak with zero self-control, hope we can still be friends so my grades don’t plummet and my life doesn’t blow up in flames’. As he silently monologued, she led him through a maze of hallways and furniture, graceful and careless all at once. She stepped through a door, ushered him in, and closed it behind her. Matt realized three fundamental truths simultaneously.
One, he was in her bedroom. Two, she was in her bedroom. And the most important of the three, she and Matt were in her bedroom at the exact same time. Together.
This was an illuminating half-second for Matthew Bernard Sturniolo.
Looking around her room, Matt’s eyes flickered between the butterfly tapestries, pulled straight from a fantasy, to a basket of laundry on the floor. A pair of panties lay atop it, pink and soft-looking. What material is that? Silk? Matt blushed a deep shade of embarrassed, but she didn't even notice. “Sit,” she said, settling on the bed and opening her laptop. “Work.”
Matt took a deep breath. “Please, I’m so-”
“Finish your paper. Then talk.”
Matt knew there was only one option. He logged into his Google account on her laptop, pulling up the google doc that he had spent the past week working on. It should have been completed hours earlier, with her sitting across from him or even possibly beside him, laughing at something stupid he had said. But instead she stood there with her arms crossed over her chest, an unimpressed look on her face. Matt’s stomach twisted up, an ache growing in his side. He got right to work, not wanting to waste a single second. Each moment he had right now was precious. And every moment that he could save by bullshitting the rest of his paper, meant more time being spent on her. Apologizing to her. Begging for her forgiveness. Pleading for her to give him one more chance. To prove that he wasn’t this perverted creep with no self control…
The minutes passed quietly, with her music playing somewhere in the background. He liked her taste - a mix of artists he enjoyed and music he’d never heard, but liked in the moment. He wanted to ask if he could download one of her playlists. He figured that could be a conversation for later.
She got up at one point to let her cat in, and Matt paused for a moment to reach out a hand. With signature feline airs, the animal ignored him completely, her fabulously fluffy tail flicking at him as she turned away from him. The cat rubbed up against her ankle, meowing softly. Shrugging, he returned to his paper. Matt’s focus kept slipping, but the desperate need to explain himself—to somehow apologize to her—pushed him on. Within the hour, he’d cobbled together something vaguely resembling an essay, or at least a rambling apology wrapped in questionable punctuation.
“Okay, I’m done.” Matt leaned back, straightening out of the hunch he’d assumed.
She beckoned with her hand, and he bashfully passed the laptop to her, remembering how this very same interaction had played out mere hours before. If she recalled anything similar, she didn’t show it. She read over his essay in total silence.
With nothing to occupy his brain, Matt looked quietly around the room once more. Fucking laundry basket, he growled inwardly, trying his damndest to avoid even a glimpse at the underwear lying atop it. What does it look like on her? Does it go up to her waist on the edges or does it sit right on the side of her hips? His cock stiffened at almost the speed of light, and Matt grasped the nearby pillow, subtly moving it to his lap. The brisk friction caused a jolt of pleasure to burst through his synapses, and he mentally cursed himself for choosing to wear sweatpants. The first rule in the goddamn book: NEVER wear sweatpants unless you know they’re coming off. He pressed the cushion down with a little more force, desperate to conceal his, now fully loaded, weapon.
She reached the end of his work and gave a nod. “It’s fine.” Her tone was unimpressed. Almost…bored?
“Okay. I mean, is there anything I need to-”
“Get up.”
“Huh?”
“Up.” She waved once with her hand, brows raised in dawning incredulity.
Matt hesitated, his fingers clenching around the frilly pink pillowcase. He laughed nervously, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
“I really don’t think you want that…”
He smoothed out his shirt, nervous energy sparking through him - he wondered what in the world she was doing. He refused to meet her gaze, already knowing that his cheeks were the same bright red as the tip of his aching cock. Humiliation swirled around him, and Matt began to drown in it.
“Matt,” she warned.
Matt finally looked at her and he sighed. He shoved his hands into his pockets, adjusting himself subtly, before standing up and looking at her, shame written across his face. He knew what was coming, and he needed to brace himself for it.
Here it comes. ‘Matt, you’re a disgusting perverted creep and I never want to see you again. I told everyone what you did, and everyone else thinks you’re a gross hormonal pig too. You should look into being homeschooled, it’s not like you’ll be making it to graduation with your grades anyways.’
She took a deep breath and began to speak. “You freaked me out today. I wasn’t expecting to see porn on your laptop, much less porn like... that. I mean, everyone has their own tastes but I just…didn’t expect that from you.” She rambled, running her fingers through her hair, a rosy tint rising to her cheeks.
Matt’s eyebrows furrowed as he processed what she had said, an unfamiliar feeling bubbling in his stomach. “You had expectations about the porn I like?”
Strangely, she began to stumble over her words, the blush deepening in her soft skin. “N-No, I just- I just meant that-”
Matt interrupted her abruptly. “Listen, I’m really sorry that I made you uncomfortable, I seriously didn’t mean to, I want to keep my grades up so I graduate on time, and I just-” he sighed. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure, I keep beating myself up over every little thing I do, because all I keep doing is messing things up. I never wanted to put you in that position, I feel like a fucking pervert, I know how uncomfortable it made you and I’m so-”
She cut him off with a series of words that stunned him into speechlessness. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. You made me curious.”
Matt blinked. She continued.
Her fingers began to fiddle with her hair, twisting it around before inevitably untwisting it. “I’ve never met a guy that watches porn like that… usually they just want…I dunno…crazy stuff,” she said, moving her laptop to the other side of the bed, allowing her to sit down on her bed. Her eyes never left him, staring straight through him. She licked her lips slowly, Matt was almost sure she was doing it on purpose, and his dick twitched in his pants. He prayed that she hadn’t been able to see it. Her gaze finally released him, her eyes now admiring the elaborate pattern of pinks and whites on her bedding, her fingers toying with the pillowcase that Matt had previously been using. Her eyelashes fluttered, and suddenly her eyes met his again. “But now there’s some stuff I wanna try.”
Matt choked on nothing but the air in his lungs, his breath catching like it had betrayed him. He took a step back without meaning to, as if distance might shield him from whatever this was—this impossible kindness radiating off her like sunlight on a grave.
This is a trap. You know it’s a trap. No sane person would act like this—not after what he did. Not after the damage he left behind. She should be furious. She should be a storm. She should be tearing into him with words sharpened by rage, calling him names he wouldn’t even contest. He wants that—no, he needs it. He needs her hatred to make sense of his guilt; needs her cruelty to validate the punishment he’s already been living on a loop in his mind.
She should be shouting while he drops to his knees, not in some grand gesture, but because the weight of his shame makes standing feel dishonest. She should mock him while he agrees with every insult, letting her reduce him, rename him, strip him of even the illusion of redemption. He would take it—gladly, greedily—because maybe then he could believe there’s still a chance to make things right. Maybe then, her disgust would feel like attention. Maybe then, he could stop trying to claw his way back into her life through every waking thought.
But instead, she stood there—calm, composed, unreadable—and it terrified him. Because kindness felt like a trick. Forgiveness felt like a lie. And worst of all, some pathetic part of him still hoped it wasn’t.
Her voice sliced clean through the noise in his head.
“Apologize to me, Matthew,” she said, softly—almost tenderly. Her lashes lowered, veiling her eyes like she already knew exactly how this would go. “Apologize, and do it properly.”
The calm in her voice wasn't mercy—it was precision. She didn’t need to raise her voice. He was already unraveling, and she was offering him the privilege of obedience. Her gentleness wasn’t forgiveness; it was power wrapped in silk, and he felt it coil around his throat like a ribbon.
Matt didn’t want to believe his ears. He must have misheard her—twisted her words into something they weren’t, something he wanted too badly to trust. She couldn’t have meant what he thought she meant. No. Impossible. This had to be a test. A cruel, careful test. She wanted him to prove himself—to piece back together what he’d shattered. That was all this was. It had to be.
Because the alternative made no sense.
Because the alternative terrified him.
Because in what universe would she still want him?
And yet, even as doubt gnawed at his mind, she kept looking up at him—silent, composed, unblinking. Her lashes cast delicate shadows across her cheeks, and her fingers toyed absently with the frilled edge of the pillowcase, twisting it with a slowness that felt almost rehearsed. Purposeful. Effortlessly cruel.
She didn’t need to speak again. Her eyes said everything: she knew.
She knew he was already unraveling.
She knew she had him.
And worst of all—she knew he would give her whatever she asked.
Because he was hers. Not in some romantic, poetic way, but in the raw, desperate sense of a man who had already surrendered, clinging to the hope that his suffering might somehow still earn him a place beside her again.
At her feet, if that’s where she wanted him.
His throat constricted painfully, a ragged, desperate gulp tearing free like a silent scream trapped inside him. The weight of her seriousness crashed into him with the force of a tidal wave, relentless and inescapable, washing away every fragile hope he’d built. She was serious. Dead serious. “Yes, ma’am,” he croaked, voice cracking under the unbearable pressure, knees shaking like fragile glass ready to shatter beneath his weight. Each trembling step toward the bed was a surrender, a leaf caught in a storm, drawn irresistibly closer to the fierce eye of the hurricane—her.
Slowly—agonizingly slowly—he sank to his knees, eyes locked fiercely on hers, drinking in every flicker, every shadow, as if tracing constellations in the dark expanse of her soul. His lips parted just enough to steal in a breath, fragile and trembling, like a moth hovering at the edge of a flame, knowing full well the danger but unable to pull away. His entire body was a live wire of longing and reverence, humming with the electric ache of finally standing—or rather kneeling—before the sun that had burned its mark into his heart.
His heart thundered so loud it threatened to burst through his ribs, pounding out a frantic rhythm like war drums signaling surrender and devotion all at once. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined this moment would come—never thought she’d glance his way, let alone allow him to be this close, kneeling here like a pilgrim before a cathedral of light and shadow. His pulse hammered in his ears as every breath he took was a prayer, every inch of him aching to dissolve into her gravity, to be swallowed whole by the orbit of her presence.
He steadied his breath, forcing himself to meet her gaze through thick lashes, the air between them crackling like charged lightning—an invisible current pulling him deeper into her spell. And then, voice raw and trembling, he whispered, “Is it okay if I…”
“If you what?” Her smile bloomed slow and lethal, but all Matt could feel was the wildfire raging inside him—an uncontrollable blaze that scorched reason and left only raw nerves exposed. His heart was a cage of frantic wings beating against bone, desperate to escape but trapped by the weight of everything he wanted and feared. Her voice—soft, teasing—cut through the storm in his chest like a blade, leaving him shattered and aching in its wake.
His cheeks burned with a shame so fierce it threatened to drown him, a shame tangled with a desperate hunger he barely understood himself. Every glance she cast his way was a flame that stripped him bare, exposing all the cracks he’d hidden beneath layers of doubt and guarded hope. He was caught in the pull of her gravity—helpless, unraveling, utterly undone—each heartbeat a battle between longing and fear, between wanting to rise and knowing he could only fall.
He knelt there, trembling beneath her gaze, lost in the chaos of his own making—an electric storm of need and vulnerability, worship and self-doubt, burning brighter than he could bear. And in that silence thick with unspoken truths, he realized he was no longer in control. She was the storm, and he was nothing but a broken soul willing to be swallowed whole.
“If I touch you,” he whispered. “Please let me make it up to you.”
The words clawed their way out of him, trembling and torn from someplace deep—deeper than longing, deeper than shame. It wasn’t just a plea. It was surrender. His voice shook with the weight of it, with the frantic need coiled so tight inside his chest it felt like it might break him open. He didn’t know if he wanted forgiveness or punishment—only her. Only her.
She smiled, her eyes glistening with a devilish gleam.
Slow, deliberate, dangerous. That grin carved into him like a blade dipped in honey. She reached for him, and when her hand touched his cheek, it was like setting fire to an already scorched earth. He leaned into it with a reverence so desperate it bordered on madness. His breath stuttered, eyes wide and drowning in the sight of her. She was everything—salvation, damnation, and the space in between.
“Such a good boy, aren’t you?” she murmured, and the sound of it, that voice—warm and wicked, sweet like poison—had his stomach knotting, coiling tighter with every word. It wasn’t just praise. It was control wrapped in silk. It was a chain he didn’t want to break.
“Go ahead,” she allowed.
Her fingers trailed down beneath his chin, light as silk and twice as devastating. It wasn’t just her touch he craved; it was what it meant. It was permission. It was presence. It was power—and he would have followed it into the dark. Her gentle fingers traced his jaw, soft and lingering, like a promise he hadn’t earned. As her hand began to pull away, he followed without thinking, like gravity itself was tied to her skin. His head moved with her hand, desperate not to lose contact, like she was the only real thing keeping him tethered to this earth. Her touch was oxygen, and without it, he was already starving. Matt whimpered.
X O X O X O
With both hands, he took reverent hold of her calves and pressed his forehead to her knees, panting. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing the soft skin on the inside of her legs, “I’m so sorry.” Shame flooded his cheeks, but it was a distant thing now—drowned beneath the urgency of his need. His mouth was reverent, desperate, moving over her skin in slow, trembling strokes like he could write a liturgy there with kisses. Every breath he drew was an invocation. Every exhale, a confession.
And she laid there, silent. Watching. Not stopping him. Her fingers twitched at her sides but didn’t move. Her throat bobbed, once, like she’d swallowed something heavy, and her breath caught in the back of it. She should have told him to get up. She should never have put him in this position, where he felt guilted into begging for her forgiveness. But those sudden realizations were worthless.
Because somewhere in the darkest corner of her heart, where no light ever touched, she liked it. Needed it. Needed him like this—ruined for her. She liked the way he trembled. The way he crumbled. The way he clung to her like salvation with a heartbeat.
He knew it was wrong. So wrong. To adore her like this—like a deity, like damnation in a dress. But he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to. She was the sin he chose every time. The altar he bled on. The fire he walked into with open arms.
Unbeknownst to Matt, the woman before him used every single iota of self-control she possessed to restrain herself. He carried on with his adulation, nosing the space behind her knees, where her thighs tapered down into slender calves, gentle lingering kisses brushing across her soft skin, holding her leg with sweetened hands.
“What are you sorry for?” She murmured, remembering her place in the current dynamic. In control. She would not let him take control. He had a lesson to learn, after all.
Matt looked up, eyes wide and wet with pleading, and the fluttering in her gut turned violent. “I freaked you out,” he whispered, forehead pressing against her leg as if seeking absolution through skin-to-skin contact. “I—I didn’t mean to. I left it open—on my laptop—I didn’t think you’d see—” His voice cracked, hands trembling. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He breathed the apology like it hurt to say, like it was being torn from him.
She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, swallowing a groan. Was he trying to destroy her?
Then his lips were climbing higher, kissing a slow, fervent path up the inside of her thigh, curls tickling the other leg with maddening softness. “I won’t do it again. I swear,” he murmured, frantic now. “Just don’t give up on me, please. Don’t walk away. Don’t leave me—please…”
She stayed silent—because if she spoke, she’d break.
He shifted to her other leg like it was sacred, leaving heated, trembling kisses in his wake. His breath shuddered across her skin, turning warmth into goosebumps, into want. “Please,” he begged, forehead pressed to her shin now, his voice fraying at the edges. “I can’t lose this. I need this. I need you. I’m trying—I’m trying so hard, but my brain just won’t shut up, it’s always spinning and buzzing and—and every time that I see you, I just…” he breathed out, his hands growing clammy as the heat radiated off of him and melted into her skin. “I get so distracted…”
He broke off, panting, lost in it.
She watched, breath caught somewhere in her chest, as he clutched her leg like a lifeline. His hands, gentle and sweetened with guilt, clung to her leg like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth.
“Distracted by what, Matthew?” she asked finally, her voice sharp yet sweet.
His eyes fluttered open, glassy and frantic, and the way he looked at her—like she was salvation and punishment all in one—made her knees ache to give way.
He gulped. “You.”
She hissed—a sharp sound of warning—and shoved him back. The contact was light, but to Matt it landed like a blow. His hands fell away from her skin, trembling and empty. His chest constricted painfully, heart shriveling as though she'd torn it straight out with that single gesture. He stared up at her, stunned, breath frozen.
Then she moved.
It took him a beat to realize what was happening—her fingers sliding down to her waistband, pushing her pants over her hips with a smooth, measured finality that made his vision blur. He barely had time to think. Instinct seized him.
His hands flew to help, yanking the fabric the rest of the way down with a frantic reverence, like it was holy cloth he had no right to touch. His breath came in ragged, gasping waves, chest rising and falling as if he’d been underwater for minutes.
Then—skin.
Bare. Warm. Real.
“Please,” he whispered, voice cracked and breathless. “Please, please… please get on the bed. I’ll make you feel good, I swear—I need to, I need to—please let me, let me—” His hands cradled her waist as if she was the most fragile thing in the world.
He kissed her skin with trembling lips, frantic, hungry, worshipful. His words spilled in a feverish rush, barely coherent between kisses: “I’ll be so good—I’ll take care of you—fuck, just let me—I’ll ruin you right, make you forget every second you were mad at me—please please please…”
He was shaking. Not from fear—but from pure, unbearable longing.
“I can’t—” he choked, breath stuttering. “I can’t think when you’re like this, I can’t breathe—please just let me have you, let me show you—anything, anything you want—I’ll crawl, I’ll beg, I’ll break, just say it, please…”
He clung to her like a man unraveling, burying his face in her skin, like he could inhale her, drown in her, cease to exist and call it peace.
She was already scrambling backward across the bed, breath ragged, lips parted with aching need.
“Apologize, pretty boy.”
The words struck him like lightning—commanding, sharp, and so goddamn hot it nearly undid him.
Matt climbed onto the mattress with no grace, no hesitation, crawling after her like he was starving. His hands found her thighs, spreading them open with trembling reverence, his chest sinking between them as he laid himself low—offered himself.
A strangled whine tore from his throat, desperate and raw. “Come here,” he breathed, almost pleading, voice thick with worship and ache.
His fingers slipped under the waistband of her dark blue thong—so soft, so unfairly pretty—and he dragged the delicate fabric down her hips, over her thighs, past her knees, all the way to her ankles. He let it fall to the floor like it was nothing—because compared to her, it was nothing. Everything else blurred into irrelevance the moment she was bare before him.
And then he saw her.
The breath left his lungs in a single, broken sound.
Glistening pink, folds slick with arousal, her wetness catching the light as it shimmered between her thighs. Matt’s vision blurred. His throat closed. He blinked once, twice—trying to convince himself this was real. That this was for him. That she was for him.
He’d never seen anything more beautiful.
Not in dreams. Not in fantasies. Nothing he’d imagined came close to the aching perfection of her, wet and open and wanting.
She gasped, a noise of surprise getting caught in her throat as Matt’s strong hands grasped the underside of her thighs, yanking her closer towards him. His patience had fled in mere seconds, he couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to taste her. Even if it was the last thing to find itself on his tongue, he would have died a happy man.
He couldn’t stop the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth—not when she threw her head back into the pillow like that, not when her fingers tangled deep in his chestnut curls, clutching him like she needed something to anchor her to this plane of reality. His breath trembled in his chest, heart stuttering hard against his ribs as her hips jolted upward, chasing the heat of his breath like it was the only air she could breathe.
He blinked once, dazed, then leaned in—lips pursed—exhaling deliberately over her soaked heat again, just to feel her react. Another buck of her hips. Another desperate twist of her fingers in his hair.
“God, please don’t tease—”
Her voice. That voice.
It cracked something inside him.
His head spun, the sound of her plea short-circuiting every thought in his mind until all that remained was need.
He didn't waste another second. The space between them disappeared in a heartbeat as he leaned in, cradling her thighs with care, reverence. Her arousal painted the inside of her thighs, shining in the low light, folds swollen and pink and perfect. He blinked, dizzy with need, and then dropped lower—his chest flat against the bed, his arms hooked tightly under her thighs like she might vanish if he let go. He dragged her closer, as close as he could get her, nose brushing the soft, swollen heat of her folds.
His tongue pressed flat against her slick, swollen folds, and the world simply vanished.
A deep, guttural moan rumbled from his chest, half-broken by how overwhelmed he felt. Her taste—God—her taste was everything. She wasn’t sweet like candy; no, she was better. She was fresh-cut fruit at a summer cookout—lush, ripe, dripping with juice. The kind that stains your fingers, makes you greedy. The kind you go back for again and again and again.
Seconds. Thirds. Fourths. Forever.
He groaned against her, tongue gliding slowly, purposefully, savoring every second like she was the only thing that had ever mattered. His self-control unraveled, thread by thread, lost to the way she trembled under his mouth.
He lapped at her with aching tenderness, every motion an offering. A devotion. A promise.
He wasn’t here just to make her feel good.
He was here to worship.
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me. You don’t know—fuck—how long I’ve wanted this, how many nights I’ve thought about this, about you.”
Another moan. Another flick of his tongue. Her taste spread across his tongue like it belonged there.
His eyes fluttered shut. His hips ground helplessly into the mattress as he worshipped her. Every sound she made, every twitch of her thighs, every tremble in her breath—it was breaking him down, reshaping him into something new.
Something hers.
Matt’s mouth was everywhere—open and eager, sucking gently on her skin like he could draw her pleasure straight into his bloodstream. He moaned into her flesh, every sound raw, needy, helpless. He didn’t know where his body ended and hers began. Didn’t want to. He was lost in her, in the warmth of her thighs, the scent of her arousal, the pulse he felt with his lips and tongue and fingers.
His hand slid away from her thigh, shaking slightly, and found its way between her legs—fingertips brushing over her slick heat in slow, reverent circles. She was wet. Dripping. Not just a little. She was soaking. For him. The realization hit him so hard he almost forgot to breathe.
Matt gasped softly, grinding his hips into the mattress below in helpless rhythm. He couldn’t stop it. His body was responding to hers like a tether had been tied between them—his pleasure directly bound to hers. But this wasn’t about him. It never was.
Every moan that spilled from her lips, every small twitch of her hips, every broken sound she tried—and failed—to bite back, lit his nerves on fire. He knew the sounds women made when they were pretending. He knew what it looked like when it was performative, for show, for ego. This wasn’t that.
This was real.
She was coming apart for him. And it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed.
His eyes flicked up to the bedspread beneath her—soft pink, patterned with bows and cherries—and the sight nearly undid him. The fabric was already darkening beneath her, soaked with her need, a testament to what he was doing to her. What she was letting him do. And Matt thought: Nothing in the world could ever be more sacred than this.
More sure now, more devoted, he let his jaw go slack and buried himself between her thighs. His tongue moved with purpose, no longer timid—worshipping her with every stroke, every flick, every trembling kiss. He kissed like it was prayer. He licked like it was penance. He moaned like he could cry, overcome by the taste of her, the heat of her, the knowledge that she was letting him do this.
Her gasp shattered the air between them like glass.
His entire body froze, then shivered in reaction.
“Holy fuck,” he groaned, voice wrecked and low, his hands tightening against her hips, holding her like she might disappear. “I’ll do this all night if you keep soundin’ like that…”
He meant it. God, he meant it.
She grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked, and Matt whimpered—not from pain, but from pure, unfiltered need. He would’ve thanked her for it. Begged for more. There was nothing she could do to him that he wouldn’t want, as long as it came from her.
“Don’t stop,” she panted, grinding her hips into his mouth like she was using him—because she was. And he loved it. “Never stop.”
Matt groaned in response—deep and throaty, the sound vibrating directly against her clit. “Yes ma’am,” he panted, almost frantic.
He slipped two fingers into her with the softest, most reverent care, and the moment he felt her walls clench around him—tight, warm, pulsing—he nearly sobbed.
His mouth latched back onto her clit, tongue stroking and flicking with a new intensity. Not rough. Never rough. Just intentional. Worshipful. Deliberate. Like he was spelling her name in devotion with every movement.
She tugged harder at his hair and he moaned again, voice broken, almost delirious. If she told him to stay like this forever, he would. If she wanted to leave marks, to scratch, to bruise, he’d take it all with thanks in his mouth.
He was hers.
To use.
To own.
To control.
And she—she was his to worship. His to serve.
Her pleasure was his purpose. Her moans were his reward. Every twitch of her hips, every whimper, every breathless command—it all carved deeper into his soul. He wasn’t just making love to her with his mouth and hands.
He was offering himself.
And he hoped, desperately, wildly, that she’d never stop taking.
She writhed beneath him, breath catching in broken gasps, and something in Matt fractured. It wasn’t just need anymore— this was pure, unfiltered obsession. His hands slid up her thighs, not to roam, but to anchor—to bind her to him, to hold her in place like he was terrified she might vanish. And maybe he was. Her body trembled against his, and instead of letting it pull him back, he held firm. Made her feel every moment of what he offered, every movement a wordless plea: stay. feel. don’t leave me.His chest burned. The aching, terrifying sense that if he let go of her for even a second, he might fall apart entirely. As much as she tried to move, he held her still, making her feel every second of pleasure that he offered to her. Every deliberate and direct flick of his tongue over her sensitive bundle of nerves had heavenly sounds pouring out of her, a fountain of praise spilling from her lips in sickly sweet mewls. Each whimper that escaped her lips carved itself into him like scripture.
His breath caught as he pressed his forehead into her, as though seeking absolution. “God…” he muttered into the hush between her sounds, his voice trembling with awe, like her pleasure was something holy and he was barely worthy of witnessing it. He opened his eyes and looked up at her—this sacred, luminous thing sprawled before him—and something broke open in his chest. His gaze flickered down, taking in the sight of her beautiful temple before him. A sacred thing that was, at least for now, in this moment, all for him. This is what worship feels like.
She whined, a sound so beautiful and light that it made Matt feel like he was floating. She could ask anything of him in that moment, and he would do it without thought. Tear open chest and snap off each individual rib. Offer up his soul. Disappear, if she willed it. His fingers gripped onto her thighs as if he was afraid he’d be torn from her in seconds. His tongue traced patterns over her sensitive clit, hymns and prayers of praise and worship soaking into her. She let out a gasp, a broken cry, a moan that had his bones aching, his body trembling. “Don’t stop - God, please… don’t s-stop-” she choked out, her back arching off of her soft pink sheets. She tried to move her legs, to wrap them around him and pull him impossibly closer, but he kept her thighs tightly pinned down to the mattress. “Oh my god, Matt-” she panted.
He heard it again—his name, soft and soaked with breath—and it nearly undid him. She had said it before, countless times. But now it was different. Now it was a lifeline thrown to a drowning man, and he clung to it with everything he had. A sound had never shaken him to his core quite like she managed to do so effortlessly. He gripped her thighs tighter—not to restrain her, but to steady himself. To hold onto the edges of this moment before it passed. His whole world had narrowed down to the sound of her voice, the curve of her body, the way she clung to him like he mattered. Like he was all that she needed.
Her release was building—he could feel it in every inch of her, like a tide swelling under the surface. Her stomach tightened beneath his hands, her breaths came in sharp, uneven bursts, and her entire body began to tremble with anticipation. She was unraveling, coming apart—and taking him with her.
Matt’s pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out everything except her. The way she clenched around him, as though her body was trying to hold onto him, to keep him inside her orbit, to refuse the very idea of distance between them. He wasn’t just touching her—he was being taken in. Consumed.
He let out a shaky exhale, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as the realization hit him: she was swallowing him whole—not just in body, but in soul. He was disappearing into her, cell by cell, thought by thought, until there was nothing left of him that hadn’t been reshaped by her.
He no longer knew where he ended and she began.
The connection was more than physical—it was existential. His identity, once something he held onto so tightly, now slipped away like sand through trembling fingers. All he could feel was her. All he wanted to be was hers. To be absorbed into her completely, like he was meant to be nothing but a part of her design.
She was rising—he could feel it in the air, in the rhythm of her breath, in the way her body pulled tighter around him like a fist made of silk. His chest ached with something greater than need. It was reverence. As if her climax was a sacred rite and he, trembling and overwhelmed, was the willing sacrifice.
“Please…” he whispered, forehead resting against her. He didn’t even know what he was begging for. Her release. Her grace. Her forgiveness. To be allowed to stay in this moment just a little longer, before the universe pulled him away from her.
And when she finally shattered, he felt it as though it happened inside him. Like her pleasure had cracked something in his soul wide open—and he welcomed it. Gladly.
Because to be undone by her was the only way he ever wanted to fall apart.
When her body collapsed beneath him, still trembling with the echoes of release, Matt rose slowly—like surfacing from deep water, breathless and disoriented. He kissed her thighs, her hips, her stomach, reverently, his lips soft and wet with the taste of her. Each kiss was a quiet benediction, a whispered thank-you pressed into skin.
She lay still, panting, her gaze unfocused and pinned to the ceiling like she was somewhere far from the world. Something in Matt’s chest twisted painfully. Was she okay? Did she regret this? Had he gone too far? His heart lurched and tumbled downward, helpless and heavy.
“Are you alright?” he asked, voice thin and unsteady, his hand cupping her cheek as he leaned over her.
She blinked, then smiled—soft and dazed, still catching her breath. “I’m great.”
Relief hit him like a wave. His body sagged with it, and he let himself fold downward, resting his head on her stomach like it was the only place he belonged. His arms wrapped around her, holding her like something fragile, like if he didn’t ground her with his touch she might drift away into the ether.
He didn’t want to let go. Not now. Not ever.
There was no lust in the way he clung to her now—only reverence. A quiet, aching sort of awe. As if this moment had redefined something fundamental in him. She had opened herself to him, let him see her undone, vulnerable, divine—and now he couldn’t remember how he’d ever existed apart from her.
Matt closed his eyes, pressing his ear to the soft rise and fall of her breath. If he could, he would have crawled inside that rhythm and stayed there forever. Not to take anything more—but just to be. Near her. Part of her. Anchored in her gravity.
He didn’t say a word. There was nothing to say. She had already given him more than language could ever hold.
X O X O X O
Matt traced slow, reverent circles on her skin, his thumb trembling with every pass. His breathing was uneven — shallow, restless — and not from exertion. It was the ache. The ache of being so close, of giving so much of himself and still wanting to give more. His arousal throbbed beneath the thin fabric of his sweatpants, but he said nothing. He wouldn’t ruin this. Not with need. Not when she was letting him stay. Not when he felt, somehow, like he belonged.
Her fingers brushed through his hair again — slow, rhythmic strokes that scratched gently at the nape of his neck, a place no one had ever touched with this kind of... claim. A shiver rolled through him, full-body and involuntary.
She noticed. “What’s wrong, pretty boy?” Her voice was soft, not mocking, but curious — like she was peeling back another layer just to see him.
“I’m... I’m sensitive,” Matt whispered, hiding his face in the crook of her waist. The confession made him burn from the inside out.
“Oh yeah?” She almost hummed the words, the noise vibrating through her ribcage.
Matt nodded, a little breathless.
“Roll over.”
His head shot up. How am I supposed to hide this fucking boner now?
“Strike one,” she said, her voice hardening with each word. “Roll. Over.”
“Yes ma’am.” Matt’s brain tangled up into itself, and he scrambled awkwardly to obey, lifting his hips so she could see the shape of him, hard and helpless beneath stretched fabric. There was no hiding now. The gray sweats betrayed everything — the way his body pulsed with need, the way his mind unraveled the moment she spoke to him like that.
“Oh, Matty...” she sighed, her fingers ghosting over his thigh. “You’re aching, aren’t you?”
He swallowed. “...Yeah.”
When her hand brushed lightly over the front of his boxers, Matt gasped, hips twitching toward her. “God... that feels so good,” he breathed, voice cracking.
She worked slowly, tracing the outline of him with intention, watching every twitch of muscle, every flutter of his lashes. Matt was barely holding it together. His fingers gripped the sheets at his sides like they were the only things keeping him tethered to the earth.
“You're shaking,” she observed softly.
“I... I can’t—” he tried, voice breaking. “I just... I want you so much. I need to be good for you. Please tell me what to do.”
She paused, watching his chest heave, his face flushed and open like never before. There was no ego here. No control. Just Matt — raw, exposed, and aching to please.
“Then listen,” she said gently. “Be still. Breathe. Let me take care of you.”
And he did. Because in that moment, Matt wasn't afraid of submission. He craved it. Not out of weakness, but from the overwhelming desire to be seen, to be wanted, to be enough.
He was hers to guide. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel lost.
She smirked, eyeing Matt like he was her next meal. Like he was a wounded rabbit, cornered by a ravenous wolf. His heart raced in his chest, his body trembled, his breathing became unsteady and scattered. Despite being her prey, Matt had never felt more drawn to someone in his life. He had never felt more safe. “Take them off, baby,” she purred, her tone dripping with venom disguised as something sweet. She licked her lips, slow and deliberate, eyes fixed on him. Matt’s breath hitched. There was something in the way she looked at him—like hunger, but not just for his body. For power. For surrender. For the soft, desperate pulse of his heart beneath her hand.
His legs trembled. His fingers twitched at his sides. He didn’t move. Couldn’t.
“Matthew,” she murmured, her voice dipped in something syrupy and sharp all at once. A coaxing cruelty. A promise. A trap that he wanted—no, needed—to fall into.
Matt didn’t breathe. He just stared, wide-eyed and dazed.
Her voice dropped an octave, velvet wrapped in steel. “Strike two.”
That did it.
Matt’s fingers fumbled and tripped over each other as he desperately tried to loosen the knot in his drawstrings. Once they were undone, Matt met her gaze again, hesitantly pushing his sweatpants down to his knees, blindly kicking them off onto the floor of her bedroom. The tip of his cock peeked out below the faded blue waistband of his boxers, his own arousal oozing from his tip. He looked up at her, awaiting judgment, his chest rising with shallow, uneven breaths. The air between them crackled.
“Good boy,” she whispered, drinking in the immensity with her eyes. Matt’s bulge was prominent, a thick rise with deep valleys on either side. Without thinking, she reached out to touch him. Her thumb brushed over his exposed skin, his body lurching forward involuntarily at the contact.
Matt’s jaw dropped as his lips parted, letting out a quiet yet delicious, “Ohhh….fuck….” He watched the movements of his lover’s hands with whoreish lust, eyes hooded and dark, chest rising and falling like tumultuous ocean waves as she stroked him over the soft fabric of his underwear. From caressing his tip to using two fingers to apply pressure on both sides as she slid over his length, from base to head, she hunted for which bundle of nerves elicited the best noises out of her toy. As she reached the head of his cock with her thumb and index finger, his chest hollowed out with a powerful exhale.
She didn’t rush. She studied him—how his body responded, how his breath stuttered, how his eyes flicked upward, pleading for something he couldn’t name. Her fingers moved with purpose, seeking out every place that made him tremble, made him whimper, made him submit.
“You like that, sweet boy?” she murmured.
“Yes,” he gasped, voice thin and desperate. “Yes, I do. Please don’t stop.”
But she did. Just like that.
The silence that followed was deafening. He twitched, hips shifting forward helplessly, as though his body refused to accept the absence of her touch.
“No, please—Mommy, I’ll be good, I’ll be so—”
Silence fell like glass shattering.
Matt froze. The word had slipped out of him like breath, like instinct. And now it sat between them, shimmering and dangerous.
He reeled back in horror, eyes wide, fumbling for his clothes as if shame might be something he could cover. “I-I’m sorry—God, I didn’t mean to— I, I can go, fuck, where’s my-”
“Matt.”
“-never do that again, I’m so sorry, I need my pants, where the hell-”
“Matty.”
“-did they go, oh here they are, I-”
“Matthew.”
Her voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. It cut through his panic like a hot blade.
He stilled, one leg in his sweatpants, his chest heaving.
She tilted her head slightly, the air around her shifting. Gone was the teasing smile, the playfulness — in its place was stillness, something sharp and commanding behind her eyes. “Did I say you could leave?” Her voice didn’t rise. It didn’t have to.
Matt froze. His breath caught in his throat. That single question struck him harder than any shout could have. He stood half-dressed, trembling, the fabric of his sweatpants tangled around one ankle. Shame and heat rushed through him all at once, but beneath it — or maybe because of it — something deeper unfurled. A kind of devotion that cracked open his ribs and spilled him bare.
He looked down, eyes wide, heart thundering like he’d been caught doing something sacred the wrong way. “No,” he whispered. “You didn’t.”
Her gaze didn’t waver, but it softened. Just enough. Like she knew exactly what she held in her hands — and how carefully it needed to be treated. “Then why are you trying to run, Matthew?”
He couldn’t answer. The knot in his throat was too tight. All he could do was shake his head — once — and step back toward her. He let the last of the fabric fall from his leg with a muted thud, and knelt before her at the foot of the bed. Not out of instruction. Out of instinct.
She reached forward and touched his jaw, tilting his face up to meet her eyes. “You get scared when you feel too much,” she said, so softly it barely carried across the room. “But I already see you. I see all of it.”
Matt’s hands found the edge of the mattress like a lifeline. His whole body was trembling. “I don’t want to mess this up,” he said, almost like a confession. “I’d do anything right now just to stay close to you.”
contains: smut, sub!mello, sub!matt, mean dom!reader, matt gives mello a handjob, reader is mean, all three of you are in a relationship, bondage (handcuffs), edging, kinda long-term orgasm denial ig
word count: ~1.100
“F-fu-uhhh… fuck y-you both!” the blond man currently resting his head on your chest yells, a desperate tone in his voice.
Your other boyfriend just smiles. “That’s not going to happen anytime soon.” he states plainly, a lazy grin on his face.
Mello growls as Matt continues his lazy strokes; up-and-down, all over his sensitive dick, but way too slow to offer any relief. It’s been a while now, and Mello feels… sticky. His pre has been leaking, and Matt's relentless abuse on his cock has spread the milky white fluid all over his stomach and thighs, too.
You gently push some of the golden blond hair from Mello’s face - not like it’s going to do anything with how much he’s shaking - but still, he leans into your touch.
“You’re so pretty, Mihael.” you say in a sugary tone. Mello practically preens, ignoring the pressure on his dick for a second.
“T-thanks…” he says, sounding almost vulnerable and surprised. But he snaps back to his usual self in just a second, “I-I know. You’re not the first person to notice.”
“It’s good that you know. You’re my pretty boy. My little sweetheart…” you say and run your fingers over his neck, feeling his pulse.
“Mmh…” Mello mumbles in response and nuzzles his head into your chest. Although you can’t see it - he gives Matt a triumphant smile, his eyes glinting. ‘I’m getting more attention!’ is what Mello’s smile seems to say.
Matt responds by squeezing his head particularly harshly. Within a second, Mello pushes his hips up as he loudly moans.
“Mello,” you say, and pull your comforting hand away from his neck, “didn’t we agree that good boys don’t push their hips up? Don’t good boys stay still?”
Mello squints his eyes and turns his head to look at you. His right arm twitches - he wants to point an accusing finger at Matt - but the cuffs around his wrists stop him.
“‘S his fault. Matt…”
“His fault? Mello, you’re responsible for what your body does. Surely, an intelligent, smart boy like you can control his slutty little hips, right?”
“S-shut up! I… I will.” Mello protests, as he gives you an annoyed glance.
“I’m sure you can, my pretty darling.”
Matt chuckles. “But you’re still not going to cum tonight.” he says, voice raspy and breathy, “master has already told me that you’re not allowed.”
The blond man groans in response, eyes flickering with panic for a second. Matt grins at him, his eyes glazed over as he continues his relentless stroking.
Mello throws you a dirty glare, now, all affection gone from his eyes.
“Do you- seriously-“ he stutters, eyes narrowing as he attempts to fight the restraints.
You just give Matt a very pissed off lock. “I just told Matt that he is not allowed to give you any release.”
You gently wrap your arms around Mello, and carefully play with his hair. “I will make you cum later, don’t worry.”
“Regarding Matt, however…”
The redhead has the audacity to continue smirking, still looking lazy and downright unbothered at the fact that you’re probably not going to be so nice to him now.
You affectionately kiss Mello’s neck, just below his right ear. He relaxes a little - but it’s still obvious that Matt has gotten to him.
You decide to throw him a bone.
“Mello, why don’t you choose how I’m going to punish Matt?”
The blond man nods eagerly, and he slowly seems to calm down. “Matt… Matt has t’ make me… make me cum.” he says in an eager tone. “With his mouth.”
You smile and kiss Mellos neck again. Although making the other cum is hardly a punishment - certainly not the punishment that Matt was expecting - you decide to let it slide. But, alas, Mello is not done talking.
“Want ya’ to make him touch himself. And then n-not let him cum.”
You smile. “What a clever boy you are. Matt, you heard him. Make him cum. And - be good.”
With a groan, Matt moves around so that it’ll be easier for him to reach Mellos cock. He starts by gently blowing air on it.
“Hurry the fuck up!” Mello immediately complains.
“Mello. Be nice.” you chastise and gently run your fingers through his hair as the blond man wails. Matt starts to lazily lick Mellos head, slurping up the sticky pre which seems to be everywhere around his throbbing cock.
The blonde shakes in his restraints, and you can tell that he won’t last long - Matt’s earlier, lazy strokes have made him very sensitive.
“‘m close, master! Thank you…” Mello whines out. You smirk as he thanks you instead of Matt - a subtle reminder that both powerful, intelligent men have chosen you, trust you, to dominate them.
High-pitched whines and moans are the only sounds leaving Mello’s mouth as the redhead makes him cum, and gently suckles him through his high.
For a second, it looks like Matt is planning on overstimming poor Mello, but a stern glare from you is enough to make him obediently let go of Mello’s now slowly softening cock.
You run your fingers through Mello’s hair and then slowly sit up. “I’ll get a washcloth for you to clean you up a little, hmm? We’ll shower later.”
He nods meekly and closes his eyes.
“As for you,” you command and glare at Matt, using the strict tone you know he adores, “you can stroke yourself whilst I care for Mihael. No cumming.”
Matt smirks and gets to work - using the residue of Mellos pre as lube, his hands stroking his neglected dick.
You walk over to the bathroom and grab what you need, and then gently clean up Mello. You help him get dressed in boxers, an oversized t-shirt (taken from you - you know he loves the familiarity and comfort of wearing your clothes) and loose sweatpants.
“You feel better, sweetheart?” you ask and he nods.
You help tuck the blonde into bed and watch as he closes his eyes, nuzzling into the pillows. “Love ya’,” he mumbles. You smile and ruffle his hair, then walk back to focus on the redhead who’s currently avoiding your eyes.
“What do we say when we’ve misbehaved, darling?” you ask teasingly as you gently tilt his chin up.
“Look into my eyes. Matt.”
He bites his lip and gazes up at you.
“m’ sorry.” he murmurs, slurring his words.
“Apologies, Matt, I don’t think I heard you.”
“I’m sorry…” he says, still quieter than usual.
“You’re not cumming tonight. I’m sorry.”
Matt whines and tugs on your shirt, as if that could change your mind. “B-but why… I-I-… please…”
You glare at him and he avoids your eyes. “Take a cold shower. If you’re lucky, I’m touching you tomorrow.”
Thank you for reading my fic! Check out my master list for more of my writing. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated ❤️
in which ... your boyfriend's been so busy with work that he's barely paid attention to you — so you show him how much you missed him. ( boyfriend!matt x black!fem reader )
you knew how much being an youtuber could be a very demanding job — the many meetings he had to attend, all the filming, you understand that he alot on his plate at times.
but sometimes you felt neglected, sexually frustrated — you had been left to your own devices most of the time. but the feeling of your own fingers wasn't the same as the way matt's tongue pleased you. or the way his fingers curled inside you. you needed him — you craved him.
matt and his brothers had finished their collab with sam and colby, meaning you shared your final night at the hotel with him. alone, this time.
he hadn't gotten back just yet, but he texted you earlier to tell you that he and his brothers were on their way back to the hotel. luckily, you packed your blue lingerie set that you specifically bought for the occasion, and you were dressed in that under the white robe you tied around your body.
you sprayed a light amount of body spray on you, then you set the bottle down. a sudden click of the door sounded, causing excitement to flood through your veins as you realized matt was finally back.
"baby, i'm back," matt calls out, and you stifle a giggle.
"i'll be out in a second!" you called back to him, giving yourself one final once over before you opened the bathroom door.
you stood in the doorway as you observed the man, who had taken off his outside clothes and sat in only his grey wife beater tank top with his black sweatpants hugging his hips dangerously low, just on the base of his waist. he smiled at you as you observed him, tilting your head at him slightly.
"baby, why're you just standing there?" he asks you, and you bite your lip and put a hand on your hips.
"you've been so busy lately, y'know?" you pouted, "i missed you so much."
he sighs and runs a hand through his hair, nodding in agreement. "i've missed you too, angel. our schedule's just been so cramped lately, i miss spending time with you..."
"i understand," you nodded, suddenly standing upright as you give him a sly smirk. "but we've got tonight to ourselves, right sweet boy?"
his eyes widen slightly at your sultry tone, causing him to nod — you slowly unravel the material that holds your robe together, letting the fabric fall at your feet as you stand in your lingerie, your brown skin glimmering in the low lamp light provided.
matt's eyes roam every inch of your figure, drinking in the sight of you and the heat immediately rushes to his now hard dick as he almost salivates.
"fuck, my favorite color," he mumbles to himself, his hand going down to rub over his sensitive, but clothed cock.
you make your way towards him seductively crawling on the bed, stopping in front of him — he gets a view of your perfectly perked tits, biting his lip and resisting the urge to take the top half off and take one into his mouth.
you crawl into his lap, placing both your legs over his waist as your heat is directly centered with his already hard dick — you waste no time in connecting your lips slowly, your hands intertwining themselves behind his neck as you draw him closer to you.
his hands fly to your waist, gripping tightly as he squeezes the brown flesh needily, wanting you impossibly closer to him. your tongue explores his mouth, letting you do the work as you grind down on him eliciting a groan from him.
the buzz of his phone on the desk beside you breaks the heated moment between the two of you, causing matt to pull away with a sigh, rubbing his hand along the side of his face.
you raised your eyebrow at him, daring him to pick his phone up — he gulped at your stare, his hand going to reach for the cellular device. but before he could pick it up, you beat him to it, grabbing it off the desk and holding it in your hand, a grin overtaking your features as you hold it up and dangle it in his face.
"i'm not sentimental, but," you begin, biting your lip as you trace your free hand along his jawline, peppering kisses along it, "the way you look tonight? i need to savor this, baby."
whimpers draw from matt's lips as you suck on the sweet spot of his neck — another vibration follows from his phone, as he bucks his hips up towards you, but you pull away from his neck and sit there.
"i need you, please," matt mumbles out, and you bite your lip and grin as you slide his phone into his hand.
"then you better lock your phone," you instruct him, grinding down on his erection as both your hands connect around his neck once again, "and look at me when you're alone."
his eyes never leaving yours he powers his phone off, tossing it on the desk as you instantly connect your lips once again. matt's hands quickly fly to your hips again, digging into your soft flesh as he pulls you closer to him.
you leave a trail of kisses on either side of his neck, eliciting small whines from the boy, as you feel his erection poking your clothed cunt. "please baby, i need to feel you."
"don't worry sweet boy, i'm gonna take good care of you," you tell him, grabbing his jaw softly as you force him to look up at you, "you gonna be good for me?"
"yes," he whines, his hips bucking upward again, but you quickly slapped his hips, ceasing his movements.
with a smirk you get off of his lap and slowly inch downward until your face is leveled with his clothed cock, and you bite your lip at the small wet patch on grey sweatpants. "look at you matt, all worked up and i haven't even touched you. you're such a needy boy, you know that?"
he does nothing but whimper as you slide his sweatpants down and throw them to side, his boxers leaving next — your mouth salivates at his length, taking in the leaking tip and the thick vein that runs along the side of it.
"such a pretty cock," you tell him, your hand wrapping around his shaft as you spit on it, beginning to stroke him, "you like the way i touch you, pretty boy?"
a moan leaves his lips as you continue to stroke him, running you thumb over his slit teasingly — however, you didn't take kindly to his lack of response, causing your movements to cease. "words, matthew. you like how i touch you?"
"y-yes baby, so much," matt whines again, his eyes pleading as he looks at you, "please, i need your mouth..."
"you need my what?" you ask him, continuing to stroke him once again, teasingly drawing your mouth closer to where he craved you the most.
"your mouth, please..."
matt's soft whines caused your panties to dampen as you finally lowered your head level with his cock, licking a stripe along the side of him, whilst keeping eye contact with him — he watches in awe as you do so, soft moans leaving his lips when you completely wrap your lips around his shaft, beginning to bob your head up and down in a rhythmetic pattern.
"fuck, oh my gosh," matt moans, his head thrown back as you continue deep throating his cock, "feels so good, baby."
you take him out of your mouth to teasingly lick around the head of his tip, staring up at him. it quickly turns into a glare as you realize his eyes are screwed shut, his head thrown against the headboard.
"look at me when i suck you off, or i'll fucking stop," you demand him, your hand no longer on his throbbing dick.
his eyes immediately snap towards you and you grin at this, wasting no time in placing your lips back onto his cock, sucking him off once again — you maintain eye contact with him as your head bobs up and down on his cock, pumping the rest of what couldn't fit in your mouth.
"m'close," matt moans, causing you to speed up your movements.
"cum for me, sweet boy."
that's all the confirmation he needed before his body convulsed as he shot his load into your mouth, along with a string of moans and curses of your name — you swallowed his load and licked the remainder off of his cock, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.
a smirk adorns your lips as you strip yourself of your panties, matt watching in confusion — he then watches as you level yourself with his cock, lining yourself up but he shakes his head in protest.
"m'too sensitive, baby, i can't..." he whines out, causing you to pout with faux sympathy.
"thought you were gonna be a good boy for me?" you tsk, leaning over him as you grab both of his hands, holding them above his head, "c'mon baby, i know you can give me another one."
you fully sink down onto him, letting out a moan as you do so — you let go of his hands momentarily, stripping yourself of the top half of your lingerie. matt watches in awe, biting his lip as you grip both of his arms and pin them down by his sides, slowly beginning to rock your hips back and forth on his dick.
"fuck baby, you fill me so well," you moan, your hips moving at a faster pace, him letting out whimpers as his brunette hair sticks to his forehead. "your cock was made for me."
"you feel s-so good, y/n," matt whines out, bucking hips up to meet your pace.
you continue to rock your hips back and forth, your mouth slightly open as you look down at matt's fucked out expression — his lips were parted slightly as he looked up at you, his eyes blown wide, and you noticed his eyes on something in particular — his eyes stayed glued on the way your tits bounced above him, causing you to bite your lip.
"go on baby, i see you looking," you say, unpinning his arms from his sides, and his hands immediately fly to grope your tits in his hand.
his mouth attaches to your left nipple, sucking and nipping on it as you throw your head back, bouncing up and down on his cock. your orgasm is approaching quickly, causing your bounces to become sloppier.
"you've been such a good boy for me, baby," you moan out, "what do you want your reward to be?"
"can...can you sit on my face?" matt asks you, his hands gripping your waist still as you continue to bounce.
you nod and begin to slide yourself off of him, your pussy squelching with how wet it already was — you slowly hover over matt's face, sinking yourself slowly until you feel his nose graze your clit.
like a starved man, he quickly laps at your cunt, licking up all your juices as you grip the headboard. "fuck, right there matt!"
his tongue goes to work creating figure eights, diving into that sweet spot as he savors the taste of you. uncontrollable moans leave your lips as you feel him groan which sends vibrations through your cunt.
"making me feel so good, baby," you moan as you grind onto his face, throwing your head, "i'm gonna cum!"
matt continued lapping at your pussy, as your orgasm approached fast — your juices squirted all over matt's face, and he licked every drop as if it'd be the last time he had a meal.
he helped you ride out your orgasm, before you fell beside him, both of you panting and out of breath. you looked down at your boyfriend, seeing your juices glistening on his chin. he looked up at you and smiled, to which you moved the sweaty baby hairs that stuck to his forehead.
"let me get you a towel, okay?" he said, and he nodded, puckering his lips out for a quick kiss.
you kissed him quickly, getting up and returning with a small, wet towel, wiping his face off, then planting another sweet kiss to his lips.
to your surprise, matt deepened the kiss and flipped you over so that he was on top, and you laid underneath him, a shocked expression on your face.
"you thought we were done for the night, angel? i hope you got your phone on dnd."
lil 💌
hii @thesturniolos im soz this took so long bae bae, but shes here !! ts is also for my lover @middlepartmatt titled after ur fav billie song ❤ I hope you freaks enjoyed this ! i loved writing it <3
