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in which matt discovers you’re wearing an anklet with his initials… and wants to show you gratitude.
⤷ pure SMUT ⋮ bf!matt x fem!reader ⋮ slight possessiveness? ⋮ matt the munch!
ella’s notes: i played around a little and this is what came out of it… hope you enjoy! mdni.
psa! english is not my first language.
the soft glow of the vanity lights casts a warm, intimate aura across the bathroom. steam still clings to the mirror from your recent shower, blurring the edges of your reflection. you stand barefoot on the cool tile, a small, silver chain glinting just above your right ankle bone, a secret you guard with a soft smile.
Matt stands beside you, his dark, curly hair damp, a towel slung low on his hips. he runs a hand through the stubble on his jaw, his eyes catch yours in the mirror.
"you’re staring." he says.
you just hum, a low, pleased sound. your toothbrush slides over your teeth, a minty foam blooming at the corners of your mouth. you watch him, the way the light sculpts his chest, the faint scar under his left eyebrow.
Matt leans closer, his breath warm on your neck. you feel the faint prickle of his stubble against your skin.
"don’t act like you don’t like it." you shrug, a feigned indifference. your eyes, however, betray a playful glint. the silver chain around your ankle catches the light again, a tiny, almost imperceptible flash.
Matt’s gaze drops, drawn by the movement. his eyes narrow, focusing on your ankle. he stops running his hand through his hair, his movements freezing. he leans down, his head tilting, curiosity taken over his features. "what’s that?" he asks.
you continue brushing your teeth, the rhythmic brushing is the only sound. you offer another innocent shrug, a silent dare.
he drops to one knee, his hand gently taking your ankle. his thumb traces the delicate chain, his touch sending a shiver up your leg. you feel the warmth of his fingers, the slight roughness of his skin. he pulls the chain closer, his dark eyes examining the tiny, engraved letters.
"MBS?", he asks quietly.
a flicker of something primal ignites in his gaze. you watch him, the mint foam still clinging to your lips, your heart thrumming a frantic rhythm against your ribs.
you then finally pull the toothbrush from your mouth, rinsing quickly. "maybe."- you answer in neutral tone.
he looks up at you, his eyes burning with a sudden, possessive heat. he slowly rises, his grip still firm on your ankle. he pulls you closer until your bodies almost touch.
he doesn’t ask again. his hand slides from your ankle, up your calf, to your thigh, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. he pulls you against him, his lips finding yours in a hungry, demanding kiss. your mouth opens to him, a gasp swallowed by his urgency. his tongue invades, swirling, tasting, claiming. you taste mint, and something else, something uniquely Matt, a mix of desire and raw possessiveness.
he breaks the kiss, only to trail his mouth down your jaw, to the pulse at the base of your throat. "you put my initials on your body…" his voice is rough, so low that it vibrates through you.
he lifts you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. you let out a small cry of surprise, clinging to his broad shoulders. he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t break stride. he carries you out of the bathroom, through the dim hallway, and into the bedroom.
he tosses you onto the bed, a playful force that makes the mattress bounce. you land with a soft thud, a laugh bubbling up, quickly replaced by a gasp as he follows, caging you between his powerful arms.
he hovers over you, his eyes still fixed on your ankle, where the silver chain glints. his hand reaches down, tracing the letters again, "you’re mine. all of you." he says.
his gaze slowly travels up your body, lingering on your bare legs, the curve of your hips, the rise and fall of your chest. a slow, predatory smile spreads across his face.
he pulls at your legs, one at a time, until they are draped over his shoulders. the movement exposes you completely, laying you open to his hungry stare. the anklet, gleaming, is now perfectly framed, a shining testament to your hidden devotion.
"Matt…" you whine, your voice is a breathless whisper. the sheer intensity of his gaze, the possessive way he holds you, steals the air from your lungs.
he lowers his head, his lips first touching the silver chain. a soft, wet kiss lands on the cold metal, then on the warm skin beneath. his tongue flicks out, tasting the salt of your skin, circling the delicate bone of your ankle. you arch your back, a small whine escaping your lips.
his lips move slowly up your calf. each kiss is a brand, a mark of ownership. his stubble scrapes lightly against your skin, sending shivers through you. he savors the taste of your skin, the subtle scent of soap and arousal.
he reaches your knee, his tongue circling the soft indent behind it, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you.
"you belong to me. every inch."
his kisses continue their slow ascent, moving along the tender skin of your inner thigh. you can feel the heat radiating from his mouth, the soft suction of his lips, the gentle drag of his teeth. your hips begin to rock instinctively, an unspoken plea.
his hand snakes under your back, lifting your hips higher, tilting your pelvis towards him. he wants closer access. his head dips lower, his breath hot against your inner thigh. your pussy, already throbbing, clenches in anticipation.
he reaches the soft skin of your inner thighs, his nose burying itself in the sweet scent of your arousal. he inhales deeply, a low groan in his chest, "so fuckin’ sweet".
his tongue, hot and wet, darts out, painting a slick path through your pussy, teasing the plump folds of your outer lips. you cry out, your fingers digging into the sheets, your back arching further.
"Matt… please…", you dont even know what you’re asking for, all you know is that you need more.
he ignores your plea for speed, savoring the moment, prolonging the sweet torture. he uses his fingers to spread your folds wider, exposing your clit, swollen and glistening with your wetness. his eyes, dark and hungry, never leave your body. he watches, fascinated, as your pussy twitches and pulses under his gaze.
"so wet and ready for me." his tongue flicks out, a feather-light touch against your sensitive clit. you gasp, your body convulsing. he teases, circles, licks the tip, drawing out your desire. you squirm beneath him, desperate for more.
"don’t stop… o-oh!, don’t stop."
he doesn’t. he drops his head, his mouth engulfing your clit, sucking it deep into his mouth. his tongue swirls, presses, rubs, a relentless assault on your senses. he uses his hands to spread your pussy lips wide, allowing his tongue full access to your clit. the sounds are wet, rhythmic- a soft, squelching sound as his mouth works you, the air being pushed out, a low, guttural moan from his throat.
you feel his strong hands cup your ass cheeks, lifting you higher, pressing you harder against his mouth. he thrusts his tongue deep into your pussy, mimicking the rhythm of sex, then pulls back to suck your clit again, alternating between deep thrusts and stimulation.
your hips buck, your legs tremble, still draped over his shoulders, giving him the perfect angle. you can feel the pressure building, a delicious, unbearable tension coiling deep within you… "i’m going to… oh fuck, Matt!"
he grunts, his own breathing ragged. he knows you’re close. he increases the pressure, his tongue a relentless weapon of pleasure. he sucks harder, his mouth a hot, wet vacuum, drawing everything from you.
a scream tears from your throat as your body convulses, waves of pure, pleasure crashing over you. your pussy clenches around his tongue, milking him dry. your legs tighten around his shoulders, your toes curling.
he doesn’t stop. he continues to lap at your pussy, to suck your clit, even as your body shudders with aftershocks. he wants to ensure every last drop of pleasure is extracted.
finally, he pulls his head back, his face smeared with your juices and his eyes gazing with triumph. he looks up at you, a possessive smirk playing on his lips.
"mine." is all he says, he kisses the inside of your thigh, then your knee, then your ankle, right over the shining anklet. he leaves a trail of wetness, a mark of his devotion and ownership. he looks up at you again, his chest heaving, his dark eyes still burning.
"my pussy. my girl. all mine"
he nuzzles between your legs, his lips finding the anklet again, pressing a soft kiss to the cool metal.
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ---› smut ⋆ bsf!matt ⋆ sexual frustration ⋆ mentions of self-edging ⋆ horny!matt ⋆ matt having a frequent boner ⋆ sexual tension ⋆ making out ⋆ dry humping ⋆ tit play ⋆ dirty talk ⋆ pet names ⋆ bigdick!matt ⋆ size kink ⋆ clit stimulation ⋆ switch!matt ⋆ missionary ⋆ dacryphillia ⋆ fluff ⋆ breeding kink ⋆ (kinda) forced creampie ⋆ getting caught + more.
𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ---› 𝟒.𝟏 𝒌
𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ---› well... this is posted a month late but let’s ignore that 😛 i was unmotivated mb and i was overthinking and believed i was the worst writer to ever exist. oh, and keep in mind, this takes place december 2025 (hence the date).
𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 ---› english is not my first language!
the continuation of «no nut november».
november 1st
Matt groans as his dick throbs painfully in his pants, pulsing and leaking so much he can’t even sit still. He frequently shifts on the bed, but you don’t even bat an eye as he squirms beside you, dead-set on watching the movie and not giving him what he wants.
As much as you’re starting to regret pulling away so abruptly, you don’t want to ruin Matt’s chance to win this stupid bet he and Chris made without him even trying. Therefore, you’re stuck here with wet panties, barely even focused on the movie even though your eyes are glued to the laptop screen, dying to just get back on Matt’s lap.
Matt keeps glancing at you—you can see it in your peripheral vision—but you’re determined to ignore his needy puppy dog eyes. Because frankly? You’d 100% say fuck it and ride him if you see the look on his face.
november 7th
It has already been a week since you left Matt all hot and bothered with that damned viagra pill in his system. He had to take a cold shower and curse both you and Chris as he shivered under the cold stream. After that though, he hasn’t really had any problem except in the mornings where he’d wake up with a boner.
He hasn’t touched his dick at all. He knows he probably won’t stop if he actually started touching himself and that would end up with him orgasming and he can’t lose 200 bucks over something like that—or maybe he’s just too stubborn and competitive.
It helps that you’ve been avoiding too much physical contact with him, sitting close but not close enough. Still, you can’t help but tease him sometimes, bending over in front of him on purpose or “accidentally” placing your hand on his upper thigh for support while reaching for something.
november 14th
14 days without orgasming has Matt feeling horny and annoyed. He gave in and touched himself on the 8th day but didn’t cum. Instead he edged his poor dick until it was red and raw, almost on the verge of tears as he felt himself pulse and throb.
He’s been watching you with intense eyes, not saying anything but everything about his stare screamed he was horny and you were what he desired. You avoided his gaze most of the time—but when you did make eye contact, you’d only smile knowingly and tease him silently. Like you knew exactly how much he was suffering.
Chris has been as grumpy and quiet as Matt, not wanting to lose the bet, too. He’s been avoiding being around women in general, afraid he’d get a boner from people he considers as friends because both him and Matt are at the point where they’d get hard from literally anything. Nick on the other hand? He’s been all smiles since he’s been getting himself off unlike his brothers.
november 21st
By the end of week three, Matt was so sure he’d lose. He hated how horny he was but he couldn’t help it. He needed to come; He needed to feel that euphoric sensation taking over his body even for a few seconds. Still, he was awfully determined to win this bet, even though he wasn't so close to giving Chris 200 dollars just to relieve the frustration he’s been feeling from not cumming in the past 21 days.
He tried his best not to touch himself but failed every night when he was lying in bed alone. The silence too loud but not loud enough to drown out the dirty thoughts and scenarios playing through his head. So he touched himself, slowly at first, just palming his growing cock through his boxers until he was leaking into it.
But that’s all he did, leaving himself on edge as he tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep. It goes without saying that he hasn’t had good rest lately since he was too horny or frustrated most of the time. All that led to him being a little more snappy and sarcastic than usual. But you didn’t mind, you liked seeing him so desperate.
november 28th
It was almost the end of the month and Matt had somehow grown numb. He didn’t really feel any arousal anymore, thankfully. Chris on the other hand had already given him 200 bucks in cash, saying something about not wanting to play “dirty” and keeping to his words. Which only earned him a disgusted look from Nick and a smug grin from Matt.
Matt knew he didn’t have to edge himself anymore but something about the bet, although it ended, was more thrilling than before. There were only two days until December 1st and Matt wanted to edge himself until then, not let himself cum until the month was fully over.
He’d touch himself at night and even in the morning during the remaining two days, enjoying every bit of the orgasm denial he was giving himself like a sick pervert. He’d also casually sport a hard-on when he was in his room and you were around, knowing damn well you could see the outline of his hard cock through whatever pants he wore that day.
december 1st
You’re both back in the same position you were in a month ago—curled up on Matt’s bed with a movie playing on his laptop. This time though, you’re purposely close to him, head on his shoulder, arm slung around his middle. If a stranger saw this scene they’d probably think you’re dating.
Your shift slightly, getting even more comfortable snuggled up beside him. And after you settle, you let your hand wander south, toying with the strings of his pajama pants, knuckles deliberately brushing against his dick through the thin fabric.
"Hey..." Matt’s voice comes out slightly breathless when you continue to tease the strings of his pants. His hips almost buck into your hand, but he holds himself back somehow. You can see his jaw clenching through your peripheral vision, the sight making you smirk triumphantly.
"C’mon..." He practically whines out as his hand darts out to hold your wrist in place before pushing it away gently. "I can’t focus on the movie." He complains. But how can you stop teasing him when his pants are already tented so deliciously?
"It’s already December, you know?" You sit up straighter, turning your body towards him, lips curling up with a small, teasing grin. "I know you’re pent up... I can take care of you if you just let me."
Matt’s heart begins to race, his pulse going straight to his cock, making it throb with each heartbeat. He’s never seen you so straightforward, so blunt—so wanting.
"Chris and Nick are home..." He tries to resist the temptation.
It only makes your grin widen. "And? We can be quiet."
"The bed will creak-" "They won’t care."
Matt stares at you for a moment, searching your eyes, his rational side fighting with the desire that had built up over the past month. His dick is so hard that it feels like it’ll explode if he doesn’t give it some relief, leaking precum into his boxers.
"Fuck," he curses, running a hand down his face, unable to believe he’s about to go through with this. He breathes out shakily, pushing his laptop off his lap and placing it on his nightstand instead. "So... We’re really doing this. Like, actually having sex?"
"Yeah." You start peeling off your shirt without another word, pulling it overhead, revealing your pale blue lace bra. You can hear Matt’s breath hitching audibly when he sees the skimpy lace on you, barely doing anything to cover your erect nipples.
"Fuck- Wait, wait-" Matt sputters, flustered at your sudden half-naked state. He can feel his dick jerk in his pants, as if it’s excited to see you stripping.
God, it’s as if he can only think with his dick right now.
You ignore his flustered words and shimmy out of your pajama pants under the covers and his eyes almost bulge out of their sockets when he sees the matching lace panties hugging your curves just right.
"Oh, fuck..." He mumbles breathlessly when you climb onto his lap, warm thighs on each side of his hips. His hands immediately settle themselves on your hips, fingers digging into your skin. "You’re gonna kill me." He groans softly, almost pained, clothed cock throbbing desperately under you.
Your hips begin rolling in a slow, almost sensual, rhythm, hands on his shoulders for balance. His head lolls back against the window shade, resulting in the metal bar at the bottom of it to thud softly against the thick glass.
"Fuuck..." Matt moans softly, the stimulation of your clothed core rubbing against his length through his clothes—although slowly—feels more intense than before due to how sensitive he’s become after a month of self-edging.
It’s a miracle he hasn’t come instantly because he’s really, really, close. And you know he is. So you tease him more. Your hands reach around your back to unclasp your bra, letting the soft lace fall away from your bare breasts before tossing the skimpy fabric onto his nightstand—it landing on his laptop.
Matt almost loses it at the sight of your perfect tits, his mouth watering. He looks completely undone already; his face is contorted in pleasure, lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded, and brows set in a pleasured furrow. His hips give small involuntary jerks up when you roll your hips just right, his breath getting caught between moans.
His eyes dart down to where you’re teasing him relentlessly before snapping back up to your face and then down to your boobs, seemingly unable to keep his eyes off the perfect pair of soft looking mounds.
Before he can hesitate further, his head is already dipping, lips immediately latching onto one hardened nipple, sucking gently and moaning softly around it. The vibrations from his moans against your hard peak make your back arch, feeling more aroused than you ever have before.
You keep grinding your pussy against his leaking cock through your clothes while one of your hands leaves his shoulder to grasp onto back of his hair instead, fingers curling gently around his soft brown locks as you keep his face buried in your tits.
He’s lavishing attention on your tits, his hands working in tandem with his mouth, occasionally looking up at you through his lashes as his tongue and teeth work on your nipples. You were never one to enjoy having your tits sucked like this but Matt doing it—so enthusiastically at that—is making your head cloud with pleasure.
After a while, Matt pulls back with a wet pop, his lips and your nipples shiny with his saliva. His eyes close briefly at the familiar feeling of tight coils in his tummy, curling tighter with each drag of your pussy against his sensitive cock. And even through clothes, it’s intense—or Matt’s just extra sensitive right now.
"Shit- I’m gonna cum... Slow down." Matt groans, his brows furrowing further, jaw dropping slightly when you ignore him and move faster. "Oh—Oh my God--" He gasps out, hands flying to your hips to slow you down.
Your lips quirk up despite your pleasure at seeing him so sensitive and needy. "You’re gonna cum? This fast?" Even though you’re taunting him, you slow down per his plea.
"I can’t help it. I need you- need to be inside you." He throws his pride aside and admits desperately. "C’mon, pretty..." He begins peppering kisses up your neck, nipping at your skin when he reaches your jaw.
You moan softly—but then a soft huff of air escapes you, almost sounding like a breathy chuckle. "You’re soo needy, Matt."
That was his last straw and before you know it you’re already under him, legs getting spread open by his hands so he can settle between them. "You think I’m being needy? I’ll show you fucking needy." His voice is low when he talks, hands immediately going south, tugging down your panties before you can even process his words.
You giggle, not realizing you’re about to get fucked completely stupid, thinking he’s not being serious. But Matt is dead serious about making you dumb with his dick. He waited so long for this—to feel your tight pussy wrapped around him—so he cannot take any more of your teasing.
He pulls his tank top off quickly, the abrupt movement making his chain smack against his skin, glinting in the dim light of his night lamp. His hair is a mess atop his head, from your fingers and his own.
"Spread your legs wider." He commands gruffly, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his pj pants, pulling it down quickly to reveal his long, fat cock. It’s so hard that it looks like it’d burst if it doesn’t get some release any time soon.
He usually doesn’t go commando, but with how much he’s been touching himself without actually orgasming, he saw no point in wearing boxers. His dick’s hard all the time anyway, it’d only hurt more if he wore something as constricting as underwear.
Your eyes widen slightly, lips parting, taking in his size in pure unadulterated awe and desire. He’s a lot bigger than you’d expected. You could tell he was big when you were grinding on his lap, but without any clothes it’s apparent he’s huge.
Fuck... That thing is going in you???
You spread your legs wider with your arms hooking under your knees, watching him move closer, cock bobbing obscenely between his legs. He doesn’t even bother taking off his pants, gripping his cock and giving it a few rough tugs as he looks down at your pussy lips glistening with arousal.
When he runs the head of his dick through the wet mess your core had become, you barely hold back a moan, your back arching ever so slightly. Something about a dick so big entering you is making you hornier than before—especially knowing it’s your best friend who’s about to fuck you.
Matt wants to tease you and make you beg, but he knows he won’t last himself if he teases you—he’d end up being the one begging. And therefore, he decides to save that for later. He knows you’ll let him fuck you again after you get a taste of his dick.
Your sharp gasp when he slowly begins to push inside your tight, slippery walls goes straight to his balls. He watches your expression change the deeper he sinks into your heat, and the more your knuckles grow white from how tightly you’re holding your own legs apart for him.
He stops when he’s about halfway in due to how tight your pussy is hugging his thick meat, and he lets out a breathy chuckle at your whimper, finding it endearing how you’re trying your best to adjust to his size. "Too big?"
You nod, trying to breathe through the stretch, pussy fluttering around him as if it’s trying to suck more of him in even though it’s barely fitting around him. The sensation makes Matt’s eyes roll back briefly, a low groan getting caught in his throat. "Fuuck... She’s squeezing me s’tight, sweetheart."
He pulls back slowly, letting his heavy length drag across your walls, until only the tip remains, before pushing back inside equally as slowly. And he repeats it, over and over again, going deeper with each slow thrust until he’s completely sheathed inside your warmth.
"Feels so full... Matt, you’re in too deep..." You whine, hands trying to push his hips away to let your cervix breathe. His tip is literally pressing against it, kissing the opening to your womb like he’s claiming it as his own.
"Just breathe, baby." He coos but pulls back slightly per your request, taking away from the pressure. But before you can breathe out in relief, he pushes back in again sharply, bursting out laughing like it’s the funniest thing when you gasp sharply in return.
You mock glare at him, watching his eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, gums showing slightly as he laughs like he hasn’t laughed in years, wheezing softly. You can’t help the laughter bubbling in your chest. After all, Matt’s laugh is contagious. "You’re such an ass..."
The mood is broken momentarily as you two laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. But neither of you would have it any other way. Plus, it helps you take your mind off the fullness and pressure of him stretching you out.
"Shit... What are we even doing?" Matt chuckles, his laughter dying down slightly as he gazes down at you with something so intimate it makes your heart beat faster, your own laugh subsiding into a small smile.
The way his eyes sparkle with leftover mirth and love—something more deeper than just affection for a close friend—fucks with your head and heart. You can’t possibly fall for him, can you? This is supposed to be sex. But why did you two even have sex in the first place? Because you promised him? Because of that no nut November bet and the Viagra pill?
Before you can keep overthinking the meaning behind his actions—and yours—Matt begins moving, his cock throbbing as he feels you clench around him at the suddenness of his movements. His jaw ticks as he bites back a moan, inhaling and exhaling shakily as he murmurs. "Look at me... Only think about my dick inside this pretty little pussy, ’kay?"
His forearms cage your head in, face inches from yours, as his hips slap against yours with soft, wet smacks. His icy blue orbs watch your expressions intently, as if he’s burning them into his mind while simultaneously trying to find your favorite angle.
"Oh, fuck--" Your eyes roll back, words tumbling out as a breathy moan, as the tip of his dick hits your g-spot just right.
Matt grins slowly, dick throbbing. He thinks your reaction is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. No porn or woman has left him this horny. "Right there? That your spot, baby?" His words are laced with a subtle taunt that he doesn’t even seem to notice, it flowing out naturally.
And with each thrust after that one, he makes sure to target that spongy spot inside you, watching in pleasure as your mouth opens in a silent scream, hands desperately clutching onto his biceps like it’d ground you from the intense pleasure he’s giving you.
Matt loves the way you’re falling apart on his dick, and how good he seems to be making you feel. Your pussy squeezing him like it wants him inside you forever is getting him closer to the edge faster than he wants. He doesn’t want to end this so quickly—He wants to stay connected to you.
One of his arms caging you in reaches down toy with your clit, determined to make you cum before he does—because he’s really damn close to nutting inside you. Jaw muscles ticking, he clenches his teeth, hard, trying to hold back his orgasm.
But his jaw goes slack when he feels your pussy flutter around him desperately, his eyes rolling back briefly at the feeling of you orgasming so hard around his fat cock. Your own eyes are rolled back, tears brimming against your waterline as he pounds you through your orgasm, barely letting you get down from your high.
"M-matt--" You choke on a moan when his hips picks up pace, fucking you in shallow but deep thrusts. Your vision is barely focused, blurring with tears, stars exploding behind your eyes. And the sight of you so fucked out with tears beginning to stream down your face makes Matt’s balls draw up tight against his body.
"Fuck- I’m gonna cum-" Matt warns, gasping, quickly trying to pull out. But your legs wrap around him tightly and suddenly, making him groan and grunt as he tries to hold back his orgasm. "Sweetheart—fuck—I’m not kidding- I’m about to fucking come inside you!"
But you don’t let go of him, even as his hips twitch and jerk against yours, arm veins bulging, knuckles white as he clutches onto the sheets on either side of your head tightly. "Come inside me, please...? Wan’ you to cum inside-" You hiccup, brows knitted together, teary eyed. "Wanna have your babies- Please?"
The sound of your voice, so whiny and desperate and needy and literally begging for his semen, makes his dick twitch inside you, his shaft swelling larger. He tries—he really does—to hold back his impending orgasm, but it’s inevitable as he loses himself in your tight, wet warmth, slowly giving in to your tempting pleas.
"God... You want my cum? Want me to knock you up?" He begins thrusting hard and fast, loving how good you look with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist and taking his big dick like a good fucking girl. "I’ll fucking give it to you. You’e gonna be such a pretty mama, y’know that? You’d look so beautiful with your tummy swollen with my fucking kid."
His dirty talk, how sensitive you are after your orgasm, and the feeling of his dick hitting all your sweet spots, is pushing you closer to another orgasm. And Matt notices, chuckling breathlessly as he keeps fucking you, about to climax himself.
Your second orgasm crashes over you in strong, unrelenting waves, making your back arch and nails dig into his biceps, legs tightening around his waist. You coming around him the second time is what pushes Matt over the edge, the bands in his stomach snapping so hard it makes his vision spot.
"I’m filling you up... Fuuuck..." He groans, his hips grinding against yours, hot cum filling you to the brim. "Keep squeezing me like that and you’re not leaving my bed until morning."
Your heavy-lidded eyes lock with his dark ones, your heart pounding in your chest and pussy throbbing around him. The way he’s staring down at you, with such a loving gaze, is making the line between friends and something more blur.
His hand comes up to gently cup your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone tenderly. Neither of you say anything for a while, just staring into each other’s eyes, heartbeats matching in rhythm. And when he finally leans down to kiss you, it’s much softer—more intimate—than before. Like he’s pouring out his feelings before he can even tell you through words.
And just as you’re making out slowly, his softening dick still buried inside your warmth and cum oozing out around his shaft, Matt’s phone vibrates on his nightstand. Both of you jump slightly in surprise, the intimate bubble bursting, and he groans softly in annoyance against your mouth.
With a soft grunt, Matt pulls back just enough to take his phone, not bothering to pull out even as his brother’s name flashes across his phone screen.
Nick’s voice immediately goes through the moment Matt takes the call, sounding exasperated. "Are you serious? You couldn’t be quieter? Both me and Chris could hear you guys."
Your face burn in embarrassment as you listen to Nick talk, petrified at the fact that his brothers heard you two fucking. But Matt seems to find it amusing, even though he probably is embarrassed as well—judging by the way his cheeks seem to flush a deeper shade of pink than it already was from exertion.
When he ends the call, you immediately groan softly, hands coming up to cover your face. "I can’t believe this." Your words are slightly muffled behind your hands, and you feel his hands gently prying them away from your face.
"Next time, I’ll bend you over your bed." He says casually, like he isn’t making plans to fuck you, in your bedroom to be specific.
"Next time? My bed?" Your lips quirk up at the corners with a subtle smirk, amused, your earlier embarrassment temporarily forgotten. "And who says I’ll let you fuck me again? Let alone let you inside my house and my room knowing you’re thinking about bending me over like some pervert?"
Matt laughs at your words, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "Oh, I know you’ll let me fuck you again." He pulls out slowly, both of you hissing softly at the sensitivity and the sudden exposure to cool air, before he rolls onto his back beside you. "And you live alone, so no one would complain if I fuck your brains out."
"I have neighbors-"
"Fuck your neighbors. Matter of fact, why don’t we move in together in a soundproof apartment-"
"Matt, be serious."
Matt laughs again, pulling you into his side so you’d be snuggled against him, a cheeky grin on his face as he looks down at you. "I’m just messing with you." Is what he says, but he doesn’t sound like he is.
But it’s not like you’re really complaining.
In fact, you might already be planning what kind of house you’d live in after marriage.
a/n: listen. this one is mean. Kinktober Day 26 took a turn into degradation hell and I didn’t come back. jealous!Sonny finds your dog-eared, highlighter-drenched smut novel and decides if you want filth—he’ll show you filth. and by the time he’s done, you’ll forget how to spell the word “book,” let alone read one without crying.
───────── 🍂🍂 ────────
You’ve been a little distant lately.
Not in a way that would make anyone else worry. You still kiss him good morning. Still make coffee. Still laugh at his jokes… sometimes. But you’ve been slipping away in the evenings, curling into the corner of the couch with that dainty little book tucked under your arm like it’s spun sugar and silk.
You don’t even put on the TV anymore. Just flip open to your folded page and disappear.
It wouldn’t have bothered Sonny if you weren’t so damn obvious about it.
The way your breath hitches.
The way your thighs shift under the throw blanket.
The way your mouth parts, just slightly, when you linger on a line and read it again… and again.
You’re turned on. And not from him.
Every night you come to bed flustered and soft, and he touches your arm, maybe kisses your shoulder, and you smile. But it’s distracted. Already somewhere else. Already back in your book.
Now that he’s thinking about it, when’s the last time you begged?
When’s the last time you blushed from something he said?
The thoughts have been gnawing at him all week, Sunday he finally breaks.
You leave for brunch in a breezy little dress and flats, muttering about bottomless mimosas and sending him a distracted kiss over your shoulder. He watches you go; tote bag slung over your arm, eyes bright and unaware.
He waits five seconds. Then moves. Straight to the bedroom.
The book is there. Of course it is. Nestled under your pillow like a secret.
He stares at it for a moment.
The cover’s pretty. That’s the first insult. He wasn’t expecting pretty.
It looks like a painting from a museum; all swirling brushstrokes and soft pastels, women in flowing gowns twirling under chandeliers, the air full of perfume and polite conversation. It’s pink and cream and delicate.
Lessons in Etiquette, the title reads in sweeping cursive.
“Christ,” Sonny mutters, pulling it free. It practically glows with sweetness.
Until he thumbs open to the dog-eared page, and everything curdles.
Page 213.
Yellow highlight. Thick. Messy. Like you did it in a rush.
You’re not good for anything but taking cock, baby. You’ll cry, you’ll beg, and you’ll cum on command, because that’s all you’re made for.
Sonny freezes.
His pulse stutters, then hammers.
He blinks, then reads it again. Out loud this time.
“You’re not good for anything but taking cock.” He scoffs. “Jesus Christ.”
There’s a note scribbled in the margin in your girly handwriting:
‘hooooottttt!’
He flips to the next page.
Look at you. Just a sloppy little fuckhole pretending she’s got class. Bet you get wet being told what a filthy whore you are.
That one’s starred. You drew a heart next to it.
Another passage is circled three times:
You’ll never be anything but mine. No man will ever want you after I’m done ruining you.
He stares at the page so long the letters blur.
Then he slams the book shut; paces the room, then opens it again.
Aren’t you tired of pretending you’re a good girl? You’re not. You’re just a pathetic little thing who needs to be owned.
Another underline. Another sticky note:
‘wow…’
His jaw ticks. Hard.
This is what’s got you up late at night? This is what makes your breath stutter in the dark? What has you clenching your thighs when you think he isn’t watching?
He thought you were drifting away because you were tired. Maybe stressed. He’d convinced himself you just weren’t in the mood lately.
But no. You’ve been here the whole time. Just not with him.
You’ve been highlighting your own betrayal with pink hearts and sticky notes, smiling to yourself while some fictional monster degraded you in all the ways Sonny never has.
Because he’s always held back.
Always softened his grip.
Always stopped himself when the words in his throat got too rough.
But apparently, you didn’t want soft. You wanted this.
You wanted to be ruined. You wanted it badly enough to dog-ear it.
He sits on the edge of the bed, the book heavy in his hand.
There’s a heat blooming in his chest now; not just jealousy, but something deeper. Something possessive, cold, deliberate.
“Alright, sweetheart,” he murmurs to himself, thumb stroking the edge of page 213.
“If that’s what you want… I’ll give you better.”
Because no one, no one, talks to his girl like that.
Except him.
The lock clicks behind you with the familiar clunk of home.
You’re humming as you kick off your flats, sunglasses still perched on top of your head, lips sticky from peach gloss and cheap brunch mimosas. The apartment smells warm, Sonny must’ve made coffee while you were out. You smile to yourself, already picturing curling up beside him on the couch, book in your lap, legs draped over his.
If he’s in a good mood, maybe he’ll even sit with you and read too. You’d mentioned it once. He’d grumbled something about not being a “personal fucken’ audiobook,” but you’d caught the way he watched you over the rim of his mug after that, like maybe he liked the idea of knowing what got you so breathless.
You round the corner into the living room and freeze.
Sonny’s sitting on the edge of the armchair like a man carved from stone. Legs wide. Forearms resting on his thighs. Chin tucked low. That thick, unreadable expression on his face. In his hand? Your book. Open. At page 213.
Your stomach drops.
“Back so soon?” he asks, voice low and too calm. That rough Staten Island grit curling around the words like a noose.
You blink. Swallow. “I…uh… Ava cancelled dessert, she had a headache, so I just… came home early.”
He hums. Doesn’t look away from the page. Just drags a thumb down the spine like he’s been sitting there the whole time, memorising every filthy, humiliating sentence you ever highlighted.
The air turns thick. Heavy with dread.
“I been doin’ a little readin’ of my own,” he says finally, gaze flicking up; sharp, cold, unreadable. “Figured I oughta see what’s got my girl so fucken’ distracted every night.”
“Sonny…”
“You got a real fucken’ imagination on you, sweetheart.” His voice is calm. Measured. More terrifying than if he’d yelled. “Thought you liked it sweet. Thought you liked me treatin’ you like somethin’ soft. But here I find you huggin’ this little ballerina book to your chest every night, starin’ at lines like….”
He flips the page, eyes narrowing.
“… a sloppy little fuckhole pretending she’s got class.”
His mouth twists. Mocking.
“That the part that made your thighs clench, baby? That line right there?”
You go cold.
“I…”
He stands slowly, closing the book and holding it up in front of you like it’s a goddamn exhibit in court.
“You dog-eared it,” he says. “You highlighted it. You wrote ‘hot’ five ‘o’s, five ‘t’s, and an exclamation point all in that margin.”
He steps forward. You step back.
“You get off on this shit?” His voice sharpens. “Some made-up asshole calling you a filthy whore? Huh?”
You stammer, hands shaking slightly, but he doesn’t give you time to form a defence. He’s already cutting you off.
“You think I don’t see it?” he snaps. “You squirmin’ beside me in bed, touchin’ yourself under the covers while I’m tryin’ to fall asleep… while you’re readin’ this shit?”
His laugh is sharp, humourless. He tosses the book onto the coffee table. It lands with a smack.
“You couldn’t even ask for it, could you? Couldn’t say ‘Sonny, I wanna be talked to like I’m nothin’. I wanna be used.’ No, you just sat there pretendin’ you were all sweet while this trash rewired your fucken’ brain.”
He stalks closer.
You’re backed against the wall now, heart hammering.
“You wanna know the part that got me, though?” he murmurs, face suddenly inches from yours, voice dropping to something dangerously soft. “It wasn’t the cocksleeve line. It wasn’t the filthy mouth or the fuckhole or even that bit about beggin’.”
He lifts his hand and traces your jaw with the back of one finger.
“It was this…”
He opens the book one last time and reads, voice dripping venom:
“No one else will ever want you. Not after I’m done ruining you.”
He closes the book. Taps it once against your chest.
“That line?” he whispers. “That one’s true.”
You don’t speak. You can’t.
You just stare up at him, cheeks flushed, eyes stinging, every breath catching in your throat.
Sonny leans in, breath hot at your ear.
“Go wait in the bedroom…”
A pause.
“… clothes off. Face down. And don’t even think about touchin’ yourself.”
He pulls back slowly, eyes trailing over your stunned expression.
“Let’s see if I can’t give you a chapter worth highlightin’.”
You’re shaking by the time you crawl onto the bed.
Hands trembling as you peel off your clothes. You fold them. Out of habit. Like it matters. Like it’s not going to end with them flung across the room, like it’s not already unravelling too fast to catch.
You lay down. Face down. Ass up. Just like he said.
Your cheek presses into the pillow, your breathing shallow, eyes wide in the quiet.
You wait, and wait, and wait, until you hear the slow creak of the bedroom door.
No words. Just the steady weight of his presence.
Then you feel him; his palm pressing lightly into the base of your spine, not to comfort, just to claim.
“Been thinkin’,” he rasps above you, “if you wanted a filthy fucken’ mouth so bad… all you had to do was ask.”
You shiver, fists curling in the sheets.
“But now?” His breath is close; hot at your ear, voice sharp and slow like a blade dragging across silk. “Now I’m gonna make sure every time you crack open one of those pretty little books, you remember exactly what you really are.”
His hand slaps the back of your thigh hard. Not playful. Punitive.
You jolt, breath stuttering, eyes stinging.
He chuckles low. “Look at you. Already twitchin’. Already a mess. Like you know you deserve this.”
You feel his hand drag down the back of your thigh, grip unforgiving.
“You really are just a dumb little whore with a library card, huh?” he sneers. “Dog-earin’ scenes about some made-up asshole wreckin’ you like it’s the fucken’ Bible.”
You choke on a gasp, shame flooding hot and fast.
“Bet you read it on your lunch break. Probably got off in some bathroom stall, whisperin’ that line to yourself like it meant something.”
You try to speak, but all that comes out is a cracked sob.
He leans over you again, whispering like a confession through gritted teeth.
“Let me guess. You played it back in your head when you touched yourself, didn’t you? ‘You’re not good for anything but takin’ cock, baby’… isn’t that the one?”
You bury your face deeper in the sheets.
He huffs, like he’s almost amused. “Fucken’ pathetic.”
And then; his voice drops, softer but darker.
“Say it.”
You hesitate.
He doesn’t.
“Say it,” he growls, palm cracking across your ass again.
You whimper, ashamed. “Say what? Sonny… I don’t understand…”
“Say it,” he snaps. “say what you’re good for.”
Your heart thuds in your chest.
“You loved it so much on page 213, what’s wrong? Too shy to say it out loud now?”
Another pause. A long one.
Then, broken and humiliated: “I… I’m good for nothing but taking cock…”
He exhales like that’s the only answer he’s been waiting for.
“Damn right, and you deserve to be reminded sweet girl.”
He grabs your jaw, forces your face to turn just enough so you can hear him, feel every word like it’s pressed against your neck.
“But it ain’t gonna be some fucken’ paperback villain that reminds you.”
A pause.
“It’s gonna be me.”
You whimper again, throat raw.
He shifts behind you, the tension in the room sharpening into something almost unbearable.
“You’re not a good girl,” he murmurs. “You’re not some innocent little thing who just likes her fairy tales. You’re a mess. My mess. And now I’m gonna treat you like it.”
You start to cry from how much you wanted this and how much it’s unmaking you now that it’s real.
“Oh yeah. That’s it,” he growls. “Cry about it. Cry about how right I am. Cry ‘cause you need this filth like air.”
He looms over you, voice like thunder wrapped in silk.
“You’re mine, and no one else will ever fucken’ want you after this.”
You feel your whole body tense.
He leans down and speaks against the shell of your ear, soft but seething:
“Now thank me.”
You blink as you hear Sonny’s belt clink open as he lowers his pants.
“I…”
“Thank me for tellin’ you the truth. Thank me for sayin’ what you were too much of a coward to ask for. Thank me for makin’ you feel it.”
You sob as you whisper it.
“…Thank you.”
There’s nothing left of your voice but a sob when you whisper, “thank you.”
And even that shaky, breathless, half-choked whisper only earns you a cruel, amused scoff.
“Oh, don’t get shy now,” Sonny mutters behind you, palm dragging up your spine like a warning. “You weren’t shy when you were scribblin’ notes in the margins like a fucken’ groupie. You weren’t shy when you wrote ‘wow’ like you wanted someone to see it.”
His hand fists in your hair, just enough to make your breath hitch.
“Well, guess what, sweetheart?” he hisses. “I saw it.”
He yanks your head back until your eyes meet his; his face shadowed with something vicious and gloating.
“And now I’m gonna make sure you never forget who really did it.”
He grips your cheeks and spreads you open, slow and deliberate, watching slick drip from your pussy to the sheets. Then he spits; hot, wet, and messy, right on your hole letting it slide down between your folds then smearing it in with two fingers.
“Can’t believe how fucken’ wet you are already,” he mutters. “From what? Just the thought of me treating you like trash?”
Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, just a tremble. Just the sound of your own shame breaking in your throat.
“Speak up, slut.”
“Yes! Yes, Sonny. Please. I want it… need it…”
He laughs. Mean. Cruel. “Fucken’ look at you. You’re nothin’ but a nasty little toy.” he growls. “Face down, tears on the sheets, actin’ like you didn’t ask for this when your back is arched like a bitch in heat.”
You whimper.
“That’s what makes this so fucken’ pathetic,” he continues, louder now. “You think you can hide it. You think you can dog-ear a fantasy, suck it down behind some innocent little cover, and I won’t see you.”
Another pause.
“But I do.”
He leans down, mouth at your ear again.
“I see every dirty, broken, needy part of you… and I ain’t gonna pretend it’s cute anymore.”
He lets go of your hair, lets your head drop. You crumble against the bed.
“Tell me,” he growls.
You don’t respond.
He slaps the side of your thigh. “Tell me.”
“T-Tell you what?!”
“What you are.”
You squeeze your eyes shut.
Another slap.
“Tell me what you are, sweetheart. Out loud. Or I’ll keep goin’ ‘til you forget how to speak at all.”
You sob, fists clenched.
“I’m nothing.”
“No. Say it right.”
You swallow hard.
“I’m yours,” you whisper. “I’m yours, and I’m nothing without you.”
He exhales like you’ve just said something holy.
“There she is,” he breathes.
He doesn’t ease in. Doesn’t warn you. Just drives into you with one brutal thrust that has your whole body lurching forward.
You choke on a cry, trying to brace yourself, but his hand shoves your back down flat. Keeps your face mashed into the mattress. Keeps you helpless.
“Fuck yes,” he growls, hips pistoning. “This is what this hole was made for. To take cock. To take my cock. Just a fuckin’ sleeve for me to dump in.”
You’re moaning now; high, broken, and soaked.
“Can’t even talk, can you? Already dumb from getting fucked?”
You sob. “M’not dumb!”
He fists your hair, yanks your head back. “Then say what you are.”
“Sonny please…”
“Say it!”
“I’m your whore. Your fucktoy. Your cockdrunk, filthy little hole….”
He growls like an animal. “Fucking perfect,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “Tight little hole just clenching for it. You like being used like this, don’t you?”
You try to nod, try to answer, but the words get lost in a moan as his hips snap against your ass again and again. The sounds are obscene; skin against skin, the slick drag of your cunt already soaked for him, your throat catching on half-sobs that make him groan low.
“Just a body to ruin. A pussy to fill. That’s all you are right now.”
You cry out as he pulls your wrists behind your back, pins them there with one strong hand, your whole body folded beneath him now. Helpless. Owned.
“You feel that?” he pants, ramming deep, voice ragged against your ear. “You feel how I split you open? Like you’re nothing but a wet little sleeve for me to fuck?”
You can’t speak anymore.
You’re drooling onto the sheets, legs trembling, cunt twitching with every brutal thrust. You’re ruined. He knows it.
“Look at you,” he snarls, slamming into you so hard your thighs quake. “Cryin’ into the fucken’ mattress. Mascara smeared. Spit everywhere. And still begging for more.”
He lets go of your wrists only to grab a handful of your hair, wrenching your face to the side so he can see you. So he can see the mess he’s made of you.
“Gonna cum like this?” he hisses. “Face down like a little cumrag?”
You nod frantically, tears leaking from your lashes, moans bubbling in your throat.
“You better,” he growls. “Because when I’m done with you? You won’t be able to fucking walk.”
You’re not sure what makes him snap, but he’s growling now. Not moaning. Not panting.
Growling – low, feral and fucking jealous.
“Thought I wouldn’t notice, huh?” he rasps, his thrusts getting harder, deeper, meaner, slamming into you like it’s punishment. “You lying here all sweet, pretendin’ to be good, when your filthy little brain’s stuck on some fictional fucken’ pretty boy in that goddamn book.”
You sob into the sheets, shaking under him. Your arms are weak, legs splayed, slick running down your thighs. “It’s not like that… he’s not real…”
“Don’t give a fuck,” he snaps, tightening his grip in your hair. “You get wet for me. Not for some fantasy fuckwit with perfect lines and a big dick drawn by some bored divorcee in her mid-forties.”
You cry out as he buries himself deep, hips flush to your ass, the impact brutal. His other hand slips down, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast and filthy.
“You think he could do this to you? Huh?” he hisses, lips hot at your ear. “You think your precious book boyfriend could fuck you like this? Own you like this? Nah baby, he’s all fucken’ talk…”
You shake your head, mouth open, whimpering, because you’re close. So close it burns.
“Useless,” he spits. “He may speak to you like the slut you are. But me? I make you scream. I make you cum. I fuck you dumb, don’t I?”
“Y-yes,” you cry. “Yes, yes, I’m yours!”
“Say it while you cum.” His voice is fire. “Let me hear who this pussy belongs to.”
“You! You, Sonny!” scream as you fall apart, walls clenching down so hard you see stars. Your entire body shakes, cunt spasming around his cock as he keeps fucking you through it. He doesn’t let up, won’t let go, chasing his own release with gritted teeth and snarling lips.
Then; with one guttural growl and a final, punishing thrust, he breaks.
He empties inside you in thick, hot spurts, so deep it feels like you can taste it. His hands bruise your hips. His breath is ragged at your ear.
“Gonna fuck him outta you,” he mutters. “Every scene. Every line. Gonna fill you so deep there won’t be room for anyone else.”
He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t move.
Just presses down harder, hips grinding slow now, cock still twitching inside you. Marking you. Claiming you.
“Mine,” he growls again, quieter this time. “All mine.”
He stays there for a second; deep inside you, pressed tight to your ass, breathing like he just survived a war.
You’re gasping too. Boneless. Used. Still twitching around him.
Then he exhales. One long, satisfied groan, pulling out.
A slow, wet drag of his softening cock from your ruined cunt, followed by the slick, obscene sound of everything he left behind starting to drip.
Your breath hitches. You feel it; hot, thick, leaking down the backs of your thighs.
You barely have the strength to lift your head, but he doesn’t need you to.
Because he’s already kneeling behind you, watching. Staring.
“Look at that,” he mutters, almost in awe. “Drippin’ all over the fuckin’ bed.”
You whimper.
“You hear that, baby?” His fingers slide between your thighs, catching the mess as it trails lower. “That’s mine. That’s me leaking outta you.”
He presses his soaked fingers back in, just a knuckle, making you jolt and gasp.
“Not done yet,” he mutters. “Can’t go wastin’ this. Not when I worked so hard fillin’ you up.”
Another drip escapes.
He watches it fall; one bead of cum rolling slowly down your inner thigh, before dragging his thumb through it and smearing it back up between your folds like he’s painting. Like your body’s the canvas and his cum’s the signature.
“You ever read about that in your little porn books?” he asks, voice dark, dirty. “Any of those pretty-boy fuckers make you leak like this? Leave you ruined, shaking, bred?”
You don’t answer. You can’t.
So he answers for you.
“No,” he whispers. “Only I do that.”
You feel him crouch beside the bed now, one hand braced by your hip, the other cradling your chin, like he’s about to kiss you.
But he doesn’t.
He stares at you like he’s finally looking at you for the first time. Like this; broken, stripped bare, humiliated, is the real version of you.
“Next time you get the urge to highlight some stranger’s filth in that stupid little book of yours?” he says, voice dangerously soft. “I want you to remember this moment.”
You nod, tears falling freely.
“I want you to remember what it actually feels like to be ruined. Not by some paperback fantasy.”
He leans in, lips brushing your temple.
“By me.”
He stays there for a moment. Breathing with you.
Letting you hear the possessiveness in every exhale.
Then, finally, he pulls away.
“You did good,” he mutters. “Now stay right where you are.”
The air feels heavier now. The sheets beneath you are damp with sweat and tears, your throat raw, your skin flushed and tight. You’re still on your stomach, face pressed into the pillow, body trembling like it forgot how to belong to itself.
You feel him leave the bed.
For a moment, there’s nothing but your own pulse ringing in your ears. Then the sound of the bathroom tap. A drawer opening. The soft snap of something being pulled loose.
And then, he’s back.
You flinch when the cloth touches your skin, but he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t soothe. Just wipes you down like he’s cleaning up a mess someone else made.
When he’s done, he throws the towel aside and sits on the edge of the bed. His weight dips the mattress behind you, but he doesn’t touch you again.
“You cryin’ ‘cause it was too much,” he says finally, voice low and unreadable, “or ‘cause it wasn’t enough?”
You squeeze your eyes shut.
“I don’t need a fucken’ answer.” He exhales through his nose. “I already know.”
Another long pause. The silence between you crackles with something unsaid.
“You don’t get to hide behind that book anymore.”
His words cut clean through the quiet. Sharper now.
“You hear me? That little fantasy, those underlined fucken’ lies you’ve been clingin’ to like they’re yours? They’re not.”
He leans in. You can feel the heat of his body hovering over your back.
“You don’t belong to some made-up prick who talks pretty while he degrades you. You don’t belong to anyone who signs his filth with a fountain pen and calls it poetry.”
His breath brushes your spine.
“You belong to me.”
You bite down on a sob.
“And I’m not gonna let you forget it just ‘cause you fold your pages neat.”
You feel the mattress shift again as he rises. You think maybe he’s done. That he’ll leave you there, spent and humiliated and shattered.
But he doesn’t.
He grabs the book off the nightstand.
Flips it open with one hand, like he already knows where to go.
Page 213.
“I oughta burn this,” he mutters. “But I think I’ll leave it. Leave it right where you can see it.”
“But if I catch you readin’ it again?” He turns to you. “If I see one more sticky note in the margins? One more little sigh when you think I’m not lookin’?”
His voice drops. Cruel. Final.
“I’ll remind you in a way you won’t like.”
He slams the book shut and drops it on the floor with a hollow thud.
He watches you for a moment longer before turning off the lamp, letting the room fall into darkness.
And as you lie there, skin still burning, throat still raw, you know one thing for certain:
synopsis! ada dominick carisi, your ever-so-generous boss, assists you in studying for your upcoming lsat. all he wants is his pretty little paralegal to succeed.
wc! 3.4k+
author’s note! this is probably the wildest fic i’ve wrote so far. i wanted to get this one out before i return to the trenches (college), but i have my freedom back. i also had lock in to do some lsat research for this one.
a much needed dedication to my best friend @dancer545 is in order for this one. we’re interlinked on a cellular level, and our freak charts are very much aligned (low key this is also an apology gift for her since my school is four hours away). ily twin!!!! as always, hope you enjoy <3
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“𝐇𝐎𝐖’𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 LSAT prep coming, sweetheart?” Assistant District Attorney Dominick Carisi inquires, observing his paralegal from her place on his office’s sofa. It’s the dead of night, and she had just finished some last minute tasks for him. Even so, she is well within the depths of concentration, evidenced by her furrowed brow, eyes fixated on her test preparation booklet.
She looks up at him, reluctantly tearing her eyes from the current page she is on. “I have a good grasp on most of the material. There’s only a few questions that I’m not sure about yet,” she replies in her soft, euphonious tone. Despite her status as the Manhattan ADA’s paralegal, she was still an undergraduate student, deep into preparation for law school admissions. “All of my recent scores have been within the 160 range. I’m trying to get to above 170,” she shares.
“Honey, your scores are already phenomenal. Don’t stress yourself out too much, okay?” he says, and chuckles. “You’re practically already Lady Justice herself.” She smiles softly at the compliment.
Sonny served as the most ideal role model for her. She viewed him as a bearer of justice. A harbinger of law, and order. But the quality she admired the most about him was his empathy.
There was so much more to him than just his success, his status as a formidable attorney. She accredited that aspect to his upbringing, and to his former role as a Special Victims Unit detective. He didn’t solely care about carrying out the Eighth Floor’s, nor New York’s bidding. Or a paycheck. He genuinely cared about his clients.
He was everything an attorney, a good attorney, was supposed to be. Virtuous, principled, and dignified.
Naturally, she idolized him.
The silver-haired counselor beckons her over to his desk, drawing a chair around so she could join him. “C’mere. Let me help,” he says simply.
She pauses her writing. “Seriously? I’m sure you have much more pertinent matters to attend to with. Not some paralegal’s LSAT woes,” she asks sheepishly.
He chuckles, and shakes his head. “It’s late; I’m practically done for the day. You’re such a big help to me, honey. I’d be runnin’ around like a damn headless chicken without your organization to keep me grounded. It’s the least I can do for ya.”
After a beat, she stands, and sits beside him. “Good girl,” Sonny praises.
“Thank you,” she murmurs softly. “You’ve always been so nice to me.”
Sonny had always gone above and beyond for her, which might have read as abnormal. He’s gotten her flowers for her birthday, taken her out to celebrate after major victories.
What was the most touching to her was the fact that he would allow her to sit in on his closing argument rehearsals. To observe, take notes. Sometimes, he would even go as far to allow her to make her own, as if she was the prosecutor.
Being alone in court, just the two of them felt intimate. In her eyes, it felt sacred.
“Anytime, sweetheart. Smart girl like you? You’ll make a damn good lawyer,” he says, and chuckles. “Now, what exactly are ya struggling with, huh?” he probes as he eyes her Manhattan Review practice booklet.
She sighs. “I don’t have any major issues with the reading comprehension section. I’m doing better with the logical reasoning section, but there are just a few questions that I didn’t attempt.” The logical reasoning section was the Achilles’ Heel of many pre-law students, no matter how bright the mind was. It was intentionally designed in this specific way to force exam takers to really, truly think within time constraints.
He groans, remembering his own LSAT preparations from a lifetime ago. “I feel ya, honey. Just lookin’ at the ones you haven’t answered feels like ‘Nam flashbacks,” he chuckles. “Alright, let’s get this overwith.”
Every correct question results in phrases such as “good girl,” “such a smart girl,” “doin’ so well sweetheart,” and the works. Sonny had an entire dictionary of phrases kept in his mind to use for her, so it seemed.
To her, it seemed sweet. To him, whenever such words fell from his lips, he envisioned himself giving that praise as he fucked her stupid, too mindless to do nothing but babble incoherencies.
“Okay, I see why you skipped this one, honey. This one is a pain in the fuckin’ ass,” he huffed as he reads the next question. He gives her a moment to re-read the question.
“Is it…C?” She hesitates. “Historians sometimes assert that no political movement is genuinely original; each borrows its core ideas from a prior movement. If that were true, every prior movement would itself need an earlier source, producing an endless chain of borrowings—an impossibility. Thus the historians’ assertion must be wrong…?” She asks, voice faltering.
Sonny flips to the back of the booklet. “Atta girl,” he murmurs in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “Only…59.1% of practice exam-takers chose C. See, college girl, the issue is these questions are designed to be so dense, it becomes insanely difficult to formulate a logical response.”
As they continue, his praise evolves from just words, to words and casual touches. A ruffling of the hair, shoulder pats, rubbing her arm.
He bites his lower lip as he observes her feeble, pathetic attempts to concentrate. Be it her youth, naïveté, or perhaps embarrassment, she believes that she cannot be read or analyzed; her reactions and thoughts are clandestine.
But he knows she likes it. She can’t even admit it to herself. He’s a prosecutor, a former detective. He has years of meticulous training under his belt to observe every single little, miniscule detail. She answers another question correctly, voice unsteady and meek.
“Good fuckin’ girl,” he rasps, and without warning, leans down, pressing a kiss to her lips. The abruptness of the unforeseen gesture makes her shiver before she comes back to Earth, moving her lips in sync with his. She whimpers as he slides his tongue into her mouth, and surrenders, body going limp.
“How about this? I know ya aren’t too keen on finishin’ this section. I’m gonna offer you a deal. You get questions you get right, I’ll give ya a reward. How’s that sound?” Sonny purrs, pulling away from her lips, leaving her gasping softly.
“W-What kind of reward?” She breathes shakily. He doesn’t answer immediately, large hands instead beginning to roam her body, pulling her up onto his lap. He finds the buttons on her blue striped blouse, effortlessly undoing them to enter the offending top.
Her breath hitches as his hands wander her torso, shuddering every so often. His hands delve into her bra, cupping her tits from underneath the obstructive garment. Her jaw falls open in a soft, breathy moan as he pinches her nipples.
“Every question you answer correctly, one piece of your clothing comes off,” he whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to the spot just below her ear that he knows will make her body tremble. One of the hands on her breasts travels down, rubbing her thigh suggestively.
All she can do is nod. There was no possible way she could compose a complete, intellectual sentence.
With every correct question, his word prevails. Her blouse leaves her body first. Then her slacks. Her bra is tossed elsewhere in the office. Finally, he’s sliding off her panties, tantalizingly slow until they eventually hit the floor.
All he’s left her in is the scales of justice necklace that falls between her tits.
Sonny has a lap full of naked, squirming paralegal. Her eyes are wide and glassy. It’s clear that she is heavily questioning her reality. She looks up at him. “Am I done?” She asks softly, assuming she is, due to being completely stripped.
“Absolutely fuckin’ not. You need to keep studyin,’ your exam is in a week,” he hums. “Bet you’re soaked, huh?” he coos, and she whimpers at his words. She doesn’t answer.
One of his hands trails down to her dripping cunt, fingers circling her clit. He knows the heat is becoming unbearable for her, tension in her lower belly building.
She gasps and jolts at the sensation, biting at her lower lip to suppress any sounds that spill from her throat. The last thing she wants is to be caught red-handed in the act with her boss, of all people. She would never live down the humiliation.
“Uh-uh, lemme hear ya,” Sonny murmurs, and slides two thick fingers into her. She yelps in surprise, sounds fading into soft moans and whimpers as he begins to work her open.
His free hand flips to the next page, and he forces her to work through the set of problems while he builds a merciless pace, the heel of his palm grinding against her clit as his digits abuse her g-spot, causing a small puddle to form on his lap.
“Um…A?” She manages to whine between her moans. He knows she’s close, she’s right there. Her cunt is clenched so tight around his fingers, like she’s trying to milk them.
“Nuh uh, try again,” and he ceases all movement, making her cry out in protest. “Wait, ‘m so close—” she wails, and is cut off.
“I’m not letting you cum until ya get it right, baby. Try again f’me,” he says firmly.
She stifles a sob of frustration. She’s so close, she’s on the precipice of a mind blowing release. Reluctantly, she reads through the answers again. “It-it’s C,” she sniffles. “Please, can I cum now?” she begs, on the verge of tears. She moans, louder than before, when begins his relentless ministrations once more, tormenting her cunt.
“Yeah? Right there, huh?” he breathes mockingly. She nods frantically, sounds becoming higher in pitch and volume. “Oh, fuck, ‘m gonna—” she slurs, cutting her sentence off with a whine spilling from her lips.
“Good girl. Cum all over daddy’s fingers,” he rasps. Referring to himself as ‘daddy,’ is what drove her over the edge, gushing all over his fingers, babbling incoherent nonsense, orgasm falling over her in waves.
“Oh, good girl, baby. That’s it, take your reward. Makin’ me so proud,” he praises, continuing to gently drive his fingers into her. Her hands fly down, desperately grabbing his wrist as he makes her ride her high out. Her mouth falls open in a silent scream.
Sonny withdraws his fingers, and shifts her now pliable, limp form to straddle his thigh.
“What are you—” she starts, but sobs as he brings her down onto his thigh, forcing her to grind on it, gripping her hips so tight there are bound to be bruises on them when morning comes.
“Too much, Daddy, ‘s too much!” she whines, trying in vain to pathetically wiggle away from the contact of the fabric of his slacks on her now hypersensitive clit.
“But I thought you wanted to cum, sweetheart,” Sonny coos mockingly, and flexes his thigh underneath her, causing her body to shake as he grinds her up and down, not allowing her a moment of reprieve nor recovery in the slightest.
“Ya gotta remember that. What’ve I been tellin’ ya? Can’t leave any arguments up for assumption in court, right?” He chuckles darkly, going as far as to give her further legal advice while torturing her poor pussy. Despite the overstimulation and the sick taunting, she can feel another orgasm approaching, entirely too fast for her body to handle.
“P-Please, I can’t, need a break,” she weeps as her thighs tremble, her slick leaving a damp stain on his trousers. All he does is give her a smile of sadistic satisfaction. He stops controlling her shaky form, and she foolishly thinks he has taken pity on her.
Instead, he ends up removing his tie, wrapping the fabric around her head to shroud her eyes. He fastens it in the back and she involuntarily whimpers. She is unable to get a reading on his face, unable to see what he’s doing. It makes her shiver with worry, along with anticipation, not knowing what he has planned for her.
His hands grip her hips with the same unrelenting force as before, leading her to believe that he’s going to bounce her on his thigh again. But in her dazed and confused state, she didn’t register the sound of his belt being unbuckled, pants being unzipped, or even the fabric falling to the floor beneath him.
Sonny brings her back down, and she gasps audibly as she feels the head of his cock notch at her entrance. Her hands fumble around, in an attempt to steady herself, and finally find purchase on his shoulders.
“Shh. Can you be good for daddy?” He asks softly. The way he switched so effortlessly between merciless to solicitous and sweet made her head spin. It was a dizzying dichotomy, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was doing so purposely.
After a beat, she nods, having seemingly fallen under his spell. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move how she wanted to. Hell, she couldn’t even think right.
He’s completely and utterly clouded her senses, taken control of her body, turned her mind into mush so the one thing she’s certain of is him. She’s at his command.
He hums approvingly, and gently sinks her down onto his length, until he’s buried to the hilt. She croaks out a weak cry, adjusting to the stretch, walls fluttering to accommodate his size.
“Look at you. So pretty, sweetheart,” Sonny groans, head slightly tipped back. The sight of her blindfolded, speared on his cock nearly makes him cum on the spot. “You doin’ okay?”
“I can feel you in my fucking throat,” she manages to squeak out.
“That can be arranged,” he answers smugly. She can practically see his smirk through the tie. He gently begins to move her up and down on his length. Her soft whimpers and whines of discomfort gradually turn into moans and soft cries.
“You’re already fuckin’ creamin’ on me,” he rasps out, observing the said ring that’s formed around the base of his cock, all from her. He bounces her faster and harder on his lap, grinning as her sounds reach a crescendo, legs shaking, heat pooling in her lower belly.
Tears begin to soak through the fabric of the tie. She’s cursing, slurring her words, incoherencies spilling from her throat. “This suits you, ya know. Now you’re really impartial, sweetheart,” he moans.
The realization washes over her. The blindfold. Impartiality. Sonny had often affectionately referred to her as a modern-day reincarnation of Lady Justice, due to her wit, principles, and determination. Guilt and white-hot arousal course through her veins. To her, it feels blasphemous. Being fucked while depicting the very personification of the morals she is supposed to uphold, to one day swear an oath to. The symbol she wears around her throat, the one she sees every single day.
One of Sonny’s hands comes down to between where their bodies meet, fingers beginning to rub her clit again, all while effortlessly still forcing her to ride him. “Fuck, oh god-” she croaks, “Take-take it off,” she begs, attempting to claw at the tie that covers her eyes; she wants to see him.
She’s completely at his mercy, a truly pathetic display. “Yeah? You want it off, huh?” He mocks, grinning as she begs. “Please, daddy, please, wan’ it off,” she garbles. He gives in to her pleas. “We’ll compromise,” he chuckles. He removes the tie from her face, and instead ties it around her wrists. “Good girl. You just earned yourself your first plea deal,” he praises, the legal jargon going over her head.
“Fuckin’- get over here,” Sonny suddenly curses, and unceremoniously shifts her onto her back, so she lays atop his desk, before roughly thrusting back into her.
His hips plow into hers, thrusting into her soaked cunt, eyes glazed over as if he’s intoxicated. Her head is spinning, tears freely flowing down her cheeks. “‘S’good, daddy!” She cries brokenly. “Look at you, cryin’ over my cock. Filthy girl,” he grunts. The desk creaks with the effort of his thrusts, adding to the disgusting cacophony of sounds that fill his office.
One of his hands gently wraps around her throat, squeezing lightly. Ecstasy runs rampant through her veins, and her eyes flutter close as her jaw drops, a squeal escaping her. “‘M’gonna-” she starts. He doubles down in his efforts, thrusting into her tight heat at a bruising pace, angled perfectly to abuse that special spot inside her. She claws at his shoulders, legs shaking of their own accord as her cries border on desperate.
“You close, huh?” He groans, sweat beginning to bead across his forehead, face lines crinkled at his unyielding effort as he pounds into her. “Cum all over daddy,” he orders. The simple order is enough to send her hurtling over the edge. The band that had been tightening in her lower body finally snaps, and she sobs out as she gushes onto his cock, a puddle of her own slick forming on the pristine wood of the desk.
Despite her earth-shattering release, she manages to wrap her legs around him, ankles crossed behind him in a vice-like grip. The sensation of being physically unable to pull out of her abused cunt, already clenching down on him, sends him head first into an orgasm.
“Fuck,” he groans, “Good girl, daddy’s gonna cum,” he grunts before spilling deep inside her.
He pulls out of her slowly, watching his cum leak out of her abused hole. Her eyes are wide and watery; entirely glassed over, like she’s in a trance.
She whimpers as two of his fingers enter her, fucking his load back into her. “Don’t wanna waste any, do we sweetheart?” He coos at her. He smirks as he curls his fingers, purposely hitting her g-spot. She yelps, hips bucking in a feeble attempt to get away from him. “Oops,” he muses sarcastically, not in the least bit remorseful for his act. Satisfied, he withdraws his fingers from her.
“Shh, breathe, sweetheart,” Sonny says softly, brushing away the hairs sticking to her sweat-dampened forehead. “You did so well for me.”
He walks across the room, and gently lays her down on the couch as he kneels in front of her, pressing kisses to her forehead, cheeks, and finally her lips. “There ya go,” he praises as her breathing begins to even out. “I’ll jus’ be a minute, baby,” he murmurs.
She hums in acknowledgment, fucked dumb enough she can’t speak right. She’s completely and utterly spent, trembling slightly. Her mascara has been cried off, black smudged across her cheeks.
Sonny heads over to his desk, and pours her a glass of water. He walks back over to her. “Can you sit up a bit, sweet girl?” He probes softly. She manages to hoist herself up, leaning back against the leather of the sofa. “Good girl.”
He hands her the glass of water. “Slow sips. Can ya do that f’me?” She nods, doing as she’s told. He smiles softly, and gently wipes away the smudged mascara.
“Thank you,” she rasps out, having screamed her throat hoarse.
It’s a task to get her redressed, due to her still shaky legs, but he manages to get her clothing on, holding her steady. She shudders at the sensation of his cum that he had fingered back inside her starting to drip out once more into her panties.
Despite how rough he was with her, his compassionate nature, as always, comes front and center. Sonny drives her home, hand gently rubbing her thigh the whole way.
Thankfully, she only lives on the second floor of her apartment building, so she manages to get to her door with his assistance. She fumbles for her keys, unlocking the door. She’s about to step inside when she looks up at him, as if making a silent request.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Sonny asks, initially concerned. She reaches out, taking one of his hands, gently tugging him closer.
“Could you help me study some more?” she asks softly. When he realizes she’s looking at him with her big, puppy eyes, he smirks.
Even after being fucked within an inch of her life, she wants more.
“You’re gonna make a persuasive lawyer, baby,” he chuckles and allows himself to be pulled into her apartment, already loosening his tie.
Disclaimer: I don’t think they’ve fully developed confidence in their sexual identities yet so a lot of my answers are based on a more sexually mature version of themselves (maybe them in a couple of years time?). I also think they're both pretty vanilla (I said what I said soz)
✮ A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Chris: I’m not gonna lie, I don’t think he’d be excellent at it if he’s got things to do/is in a silly mood but if it’s bedtime you’re getting cuddled no questions asked, he just doesn’t assume aftercare is always necessary.
Matt: He’d be good at it. He’d be a lot more sensual and tender than Chris afterwards I think, cuddles, kisses, checking in, his fingers through your hair, etc.
✮ B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
I’m doing only sexual body parts for yours
Chris: he likes your ass (no brainer) and your hair the most, he’s definitely a hair puller. And he likes his cock the most, he knows it’s big, he loves watching it pumping in and out of you and seeing how you stretch out around him.
Matt: your pussy, no questions. 100% certified pussy man. And he likes his hands and his eyes the most.
✮ C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Chris: Chris loves splattering your body with his cum but he loves money shots and back shots the most and he loves when you swallow his load like a filthy girl. He also loves when you squirt for him, he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty.
Matt: Matt also loves cumming on you, specifically on your stomach or tits, but he’s more reserved about it than Chris, he wouldn’t make a huge mess and I think he’d clean it up quickly because he doesn’t want it getting everywhere (lol).
✮ D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Chris: Chris likes marking you up, leaving handprints all over your ass, giving and receiving hickeys, bite marks, bruising you with forceful grip. He loves spanking too, bending you over his knee, jiggling your ass and leaving it red raw.
Matt: Matt likes filming himself fucking you POV style (with your knowledge obviously) and he gets himself off watching them back later.
✮ E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Because of the way they giggle and avoid talking about sex and intimacy, I don’t think either of them are particularly experienced, they put on a slutty facade but I don’t think they actually are sluts (not yet anyway). I don’t take them as one night stand kinda guys either so I would say they’ve probably only had sex with two or three people each.
Chris: I think Chris would need to be taught to slow the fuck down and then he’d be good.
Matt: Matt is more in tune with feminine sensuality, he naturally wants to take his time, he’s an attentive listener and would learn very quickly.
✮ F = Favorite position
Chris: doggy and cowgirl (so he can suck on and play with your tits like the fidgety baby he is).
Matt: standard missionary so he can kiss you and watch you moan or the kind of missionary where you’re laying and he’s standing or kneeling. There's nothing he likes better than having you on your back at the edge of the bed, holding your ankles while he’s standing up fucking into you.
✮ G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Chris: absolute silly billy, particularly during light foreplay.
Matt: serious boy.
✮ H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Both well groomed, very normal pube situation going on.
✮ I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Chris: Chris’s intimacy is shown through his playfulness and being unapologetically himself but he’s not sexually intimate in the way Matt is. He’s more likely to be intimate at a non sexual time, like watching a movie/cuddling and reaching to hold your hand, or comforting you if you’re down, or having deep chats, or cuddles at bed time etc.
Matt: Matt has a very romantic sensual side, sometimes he 100% wants to make sweet , sweet love to you, soft kisses, fucking you slowly and softly. But sometimes.. it’s the complete opposite.
✮ J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Chris: Chris’s hand may as well be glued to his cock, he’s rubbing two out per day if he’s not getting laid regularly. He doesn’t mind getting the job done fast either.
Matt: Matt doesn’t do it as often as Chris, maybe once a day or once every two days but his sessions are a lot more intense, slow and deliberate.
✮ K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Chris: loves when you wear a butt plug.
Matt: loves getting edged and edging (there's gotta be a reason he brings it up so often?).
✮ L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Chris: Chris is keen to get down and dirty anywhere (he does get nervous and a little paranoid about being caught though). He’s rubbing your pussy through your panties while you’re out and about, sneaking a finger inside you in the backseat of the car while Matt’s driving and Nick is in the front. He often tells you not to wear panties for easy access. Public bathroom, change room, cinema, car wash, you name it. His favourite place would have to be a pool or hot tub though. Literally anywhere he can bend you over he will.
Matt: Bedroom guy through and through. He has absolutely no desire to be caught in the act. Although, I think he’d enjoy fucking in nature where he knows no one will catch you, maybe on a deserted hiking trail or a secluded cabin balcony.
✮ M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
They get two answers for this question.
Chris 1: Chris gets turned on easily but he takes notice of what you wear. Short skirt? He’s picturing his hand up it. Showing a bit of extra cleavage? Be prepared for him to make lewd jokes and oggle at your titties all day. Gym leggings? He's smacking your ass as he walks past.
Chris 2: He likes when you boldly initiate or act like you’re suddenly craving his dick. He loves it if you just randomly sit in his lap and slowly grind against him or if you come up from behind and tease his cock a little through his pants while he’s doing something.
Matt 1: He likes to watch you strip and play with yourself a little before he joins in. Seeing you spread your legs, slowly working at your pussy and fingering yourself for him gets his cock rock solid. He’s not opposed to a bit of mutual masturbation either.
Matt 2: Hearing you genuinely moan for him and knowing he’s doing that to you drives him wild (not anything obnoxious or pornographic though). Or just the little things, like gripping his hair when he’s eating your pussy. Hearing you say his name. He likes knowing he’s pleasing you.
✮ N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Chris: I’m pretty sure he’s a very soft dom so he would never want to be tied up or put in a super subby position (100% excluding cuddles, sometimes he's the little spoon).
Matt: again, a soft dom, no interest in being super submissive. Also, entirely uninterested in butt stuff (the bidet incident proves it soz)
✮ O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Chris: receiving, watching your mouth wrapped around his cock, tongue swirling over his tip, your spit forming thick, milky strings and oozing down your chin is one of his absolute favourite sights ever. Skill wise, he’d be a sloppy and enthusiastic pussy eater, you’d be covered in his spit and he’s changing up his strokes rapidly, lapping at you like a hungry animal.
Matt: giving, and he’s good at it. He’s the type of guy that’s probably watched a pussy eating tutorial on Pornhub because he wants to be good at it. Not only does he know exactly where your clit is but he’s even isolating it with his finger tips before slowly licking and sucking at it. They don’t call him Matt the munch for nothing.
✮ P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Chris: fast, not necessarily always rough but fast. He doesn’t have the attention span or patience for slow, unless he’s feeling like shit or needs some tender lovin.
Matt: both. One minute he’s making slow, sensual love to you, next minute he’s relentlessly drilling into you, hand around your neck, slapping your ass and fucking you into tomorrow.
✮ Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Chris: loves a quickie - maybe a bit too much.
Matt: he doesn’t mind, who doesn’t love a quickie? but he would prefer taking his time.
✮ R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Chris: Chris is open to experiment, he’s curious, likes playing around and he’ll try most things once within reason.
Matt: not so much. Matt knows what he likes and sticks to it. (again, the bidet incident)
✮ S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Chris: I don’t think Chris lasts that long but I think he can go quite a few rounds.
Matt: I think Matt is the opposite. Lasts a long time, but only one round, maybe two if he’s extra horny.
✮ T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Chris: Chris doesn’t mind toys, he loves your butt plug and doesn’t bat an eyelash if you whip out your vibrator, he even lets you touch it to his tip sometimes but he really doesn’t care all that much. He doesn’t have any toys himself but I bet he was the kind of guy that would’ve stuck his dick in unique places when he was first discovering himself. Curious George.
Matt: At first, Matt was silently in his ego about you using a vibrator because he wanted to be the one to pleasure you entirely but he stopped overthinking it, learnt that was silly and enjoys using it on you now, he particularly likes to be the one having control over it.
I don’t see either of them using toys but if they did maybe a tenga sleeve?
✮ U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Chris: Chris needs to learn to tease more, he’s eager and fast, you just turn him on too much.
Matt: cruel. honestly, Matt could tease you for hours, until you’re crying, begging and dripping.
✮ V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Chris: not overly loud, but he’s no stranger to grunting, swearing under his breath and letting some dirty talk slip out.
Matt: silent assassin, apart from heavy breathing and cumming, then he groans a little. Also very big on asking if you're okay.
✮ W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Chris: Chris likes to spit - spitting on your pussy as he laps at it feverishly, spitting onto his fingers before circling your clit, spitting on his cock during doggy for a bit of extra lube but most of all, clasping a hand around your neck, telling you to open your pretty mouth then spitting into it, smearing it across your bottom lip with his thumb before he jams his tongue into your mouth.
Matt: Matt’s favourite thing is edging you - eating your pussy until it’s drooling, his face and chin sparkling under your cum, then taking his tongue and fingers away. He does this over and over until you're leaking the perfect amount. He likes watching your pussy get wetter and wetter, it's a game for him. Once your pussy is thick and glossy with your juices, he slowly and purposefully fucks you with his fingers, rotating them and curling them exactly how you like it. While his heads still planted firmly between your legs, tongue strumming your clit, he’s shoving his fingers in your mouth so you can taste all the juices you've just made for him.
✮ X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Chris: big cock, I’m guessing at least 6 inches, cut. We’ve all seen the grey sweatpants video.
Matt: triplets gotta have the same size cock right? At least 6 inches, uncut.
✮ Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Chris: the kid wants it whenever he can get it.
Matt: average sex drive, sometimes on the lower side if he’s not feeling good.
✮ Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Chris: almost offensively quick, like c’mon boy, have some decorum.
Matt: an average amount of time, sleepy cuddles and kisses afterwards.
“mhmm” matt hums against your neck, gently nibbling on your skin. “you smell so good” he continues, his large palm tracing undefined patterns across your thighs, eventually giving your flesh a light smack. matt says something unintelligible, nuzzling his beard against your chest as you adjust your position on his lap. “what is it babe?” you ask, gently tugging on his hair.
matt blinks slowly, his blue orbs admiring every feature of yours. “how did i get so lucky?” he speaks, placing a strand of hair behind your ear. “my beautiful, beautiful wife” matt compliments you as his hands travel around your body, gradually moving your dress upwards. “no panties?” matt furrows his eyebrows once he reaches your hips, squeezing you.
a sly grin appears on your face as you press your body against matt’s, feeling his hardened cock through his jeans. you sigh heavily at the small friction the fabric gives you — but it’s not enough. matt places both hands under your ass, getting up from the couch and carrying you to the bedroom. he peeks at the kids room — through the half opened door, he could see the twins were sleeping heavily. matt playfully tosses you against the mattress, quickly locking the door and dragging his feet back to you, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans.
“wanna fuck another baby in you” he says, helping you to remove your dress. you’re laying underneath him, his cold necklace brushing against your chest. he almost breaks — the “can i?” was on the tip of his tongue, and if you had said anything — he’d immediately submit to you. but he was too hungry for that. matt craved every inch of you.
matt latches his lips around your lips, swirling his tongue on your hardened nub before sucking it. his fingers reach for your drenched pussy, rubbing your clit in fast-paced circular motions, causing you to moan in pleasure. matt’s eyes roll back as he feels the first droplets of milk landing on his tongue, sucking even harder.
he pulls back with a groan, almost as if he was forcing himself to stop. matt gives your clit light taps before wrapping his knuckles around his own shaft, pumping himself and adjusting his swollen, flushed tip on your entrance.
matt throws his head back as he enters you, his dick stretching your throbbing pussy. “m-matt!” you call as you notice milk leaking from your tits, dripping down your torso. “fuck” matt mumbles, burying his cock inside you.
your fingers look for anything — his hand, his shoulders, his hair. you scratch matt’s back as he starts moving, dragging his huge dick in and out of you. he goes back to your breasts, squeezing one of them so more milk would come out. he starts sucking again, his movements growing faster and rougher.
“wanna have you always like this” matt starts, panting heavily. “pretty and pregnant” he says, resting his palm on your lower tummy. he knows he’s gonna be able to see his own length if he presses a little bit harder, but that also means he’s gonna gonna cum faster. “need’a breed you” matt continues, more to himself than to you.
that well-known knot starts to tighten. matt’s tip hits your cervix several times, pre-cum dripping down your walls. “knock me up” you manage to speak, chewing on your bottom lip. “please— ah! wan’ get pregnant again please—” you cry, feeling matt’s shaft twitching.
“gonna fill you up” he says as his orgasm approached. “g-get all my babies inside you” matt says, sloppily pounding into you, reaching for his own high. “cum around my cock babe” he asks, and that’s all it takes for your orgasm wash over your. your pussy squeezes his dick so tightly he ends up coming sooner than planned, his warm, thick cum mixing with your juices.
matt slows his movements, his thrusts becoming lighter before pulling out. he watches with a satisfied smile as cum oozes from your hole, staining the sheets underneath you. matt lays next to you, giving your tummy a kiss. “another baby on the way”.
i’m sorry for not being consistent with posting but i promise i will finish the 1 year special during the first week of june <3 and i fear im not getting over bearded matt anytime soon sooooo here’s another one. inspired by @owenstar’s amazing work here, my muse! hope you like this one 🤍 if you wanna be added to the special taglist please comment on this post!
⌗ . . . STEPBROTHER!CHRIS CATCHES YOU AND STEPBROTHER!MATT FUCKING IN THE LIVING ROOM
WARNINGS : SMUT. PNV. VOYEURISM. EXHIBITIONISM. DIRTY TALK. HAIR PULLING. ASS SMACKING. (let me know if i forgot anything).
you always disliked when your mom threw little get togethers with her friends and co-workers. your house always being packed inside the house and then the backyard—so you always stayed far away from it. not because you didn’t like them, you just hated the crowds.
and today was one of those days. everyone in the backyard on a hot summer day—the sounds of voices buzzing through the air. you were hot and angry, the sun making you feel like you wanted to peel your skin off, but you couldn’t leave—not while your mom kept her eye on you.
she forced you to stay outside and socialize with people—people who probably wouldn’t understand anything you try to talk about.
you huffed, crossing your arms and trying to sit as much in the shade as you could without bumping into other people. but it was no use. you groaned and turned in the direction your mom was in—seeing her back turned to you with people surrounding her.
when you saw that, you took your chance, slipping in through the back door and trying to walk quickly from the living room—out of her sight. the AC was cold on your skin, your heartbeat finally starting to slow once you made it far enough inside.
“two hours? really? you couldn’t last any longer out there?” a voice said from over by the couch. your feet stopped, whipping your head into the direction it was coming from. matt was standing near the couch, a cold drink in one hand.
you rolled your eyes, letting out a breath as you wandered over to him. “you try lasting out there in ninety-five degree weather for two hours. i promise it isn’t fun.” you snapped back, reaching your hand out as you stood in front of him, snagging his water. matt just watched you, eyebrow raised and a small smirk tugging at his lip.
“why the attitude hm baby?” he asked, watching the way you lifted the cup to your lips, taking a sip from the ice cold water. you glared at him, finishing your sip before holding the glass out to him. “i don’t have a fucking attitude.” that was a lie—you definitely did.
you watched as matt hummed, taking a sip of water for himself before setting his cup down on the table. “no?” he questioned, slowly walking around your body until he got behind you. you could feel the heat from his body as he pressed closer—it wasn’t helping your irritation.
“matt fuck off.” you spat, going to take a step away from him. you didn’t get very far. matt’s arm reached out and wrapped around your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest.
“god, you’re such a brat.” he muttered into your ear, his hot breath trailing against your neck. you shivered, even though the air inside was cool. his hand was splayed flat on your lower stomach, keeping you tight to him. “matt. don’t.” you warned, voice wavering, despite yourself. you glanced over your shoulder, but no one was inside. still, the hum of voices and music from the backyard was way too close for comfort.
“don’t what? don’t do something about your attitude?” he gritted, his hand tightening on your flesh slightly. “you’re the one being a fuckin’ brat and talkin’ back.” you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, feeling the way your body lit up from his words.
matt grinned, feeling the way your body reacted. “you know,” he whispered, starting to push your hips forward until your thighs hit the arm of the couch. your body bent forward, hands coming out under you to catch the fall. “i think that’s what you want isn’t it? acting up just so i’d do somethin’ about it.”
you shook your head. “no..” you mumbled, but the way your body was practically buzzing said a different story. he hummed, splaying a hand on your back and pushing you down farther, making your back arch—ass high up in the air. you gasped when you felt his fingers toy with the hem of your dress, slowly slipping his fingers underneath.
“matt!” you hissed. “they’re outside!—my mom’s—” your words were cut off when matt’s hand came down to strike against your ass, a moan slipping from your lips as the pain blossomed across your skin. “shh keep that pretty mouth shut baby, unless you want them to hear you.” and you couldn’t help the way your body tingled at the thought of someone hearing you—or catching you. you were so out in the open, one good look through the giant glass door and everyone would see what was going on.
you squirmed, your ass wiggling in front of matt—practically teasing him. he groaned, grabbing the fabric of your dress and pushing it past your ass to rest on your hips. his eyes glanced down, seeing the growing wet patch in the center of your panties.
“look at you.” he cooed, bringing his freehand down to ghost along your inner thighs, leaving light taps. “such a wet pussy for someone who said she wasn’t acting up just to be punished.” you could hear the mocking tone in his voice—feel the way his fingers would inch closer and closer to the edge of your panties before slipping away.
you whined, pushing your hips back as your mind began to turn to mush, forgetting about the party just outside those doors. “tsk tsk.” matt clicked his tongue, his hand coming back down again on your ass, your skin reddening. your body jolted at the contact, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you felt your slick flow out of you more.
“such a little whore.” he said, his hand hooking into your panties and dragging them slowly down your thighs, past your knees, until they rested around your ankles. “stay right there yeah? don’t. move.”
and then he spat on your folds—watching as it trailed down your slit. you whimpered, thighs twitching from the sensation alone. his fingers dragged through it, spreading it over your pussy, up and down, slow and messy. “fuck.” he hissed under his breath as he slid two fingers through your folds again, watching the way you clenched around nothing and whined, your back arching deeper.
“gonna fuck you right here baby. y’gonna let me?” he whispered, leaning down to talk against the shell of your ear—his chest flush against your back. “right where anyone could easily see?” you shook your head, but your moan betrayed you the second his fingers circled your entrance.
“mhm thought so.” he grinned, leaning back up and grabbing at your hips. his other hand reached down to tug his sweats down, freeing his cock. he gripped the base, leaning forward to spit, letting it trail down his dick before be gave himself a few pumps. your heart was pounding in your ears, it was so quiet in the house, except for the muffled music coming from outside. your head lifted slightly, looking in the direction of the back door—you could see so many people outside, but their attention wasn’t focused anywhere in the house.
your head turned, looking over your shoulder at matt. and fuck did he look good. with his hand wrapped around his leaking cock—the hem of his shirt pulled up and tuck between his teeth to keep it up. you shuddered, your hips moving back towards him. “matt, please.” you whined softly, the ache between your legs becoming too much now.
matt smirked, moving to line himself up, his other hand still gripping the flesh of your hip. “please what, hm? be a good girl and use your words or you ain’t getting what you want.” he said, pressing forward. you could feel the tip of his cock press inside you before he moved back. you whined again, pressing your face down into the cushion of the couch. “please—please..want you to fuck me.” you whispered, your face reddening in embarrassment.
“mm good girl. that wasn’t so hard was it?” he praised, his hips pushing forward again, dragging his cock along your folds before he pushed inside again—filling you inch by inch. you gasped as he stretched you open, your hands coming out to grab at the cushions below you. “o-oh fuck.” you moaned, your walls clenching down around him.
matt grunted, his head tipping back at the feeling of your cunt swallowing him whole, dragging a filthy curse from his lips as he bottomed out. his fingers dug deep into your hip, holding you in place as he started to move slowly. “so fuckin’ pretty.” he muttered—his head falling back down to look at you. his free hand coming up now to tangle into your hair, tipping your own head back.
his hips began to pick up the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the living room along with your moans and his groans. “god—you’d love it if someone walked in right now hm? watching the way your cunt greedily takes my cock.” matt grunted, feeling the way your walls clamped down around his cock. your mouth dropped open, a loud almost pornographic moan coming from your mouth. all you could do was grab at the couch, trying to ground yourself as his tip continued to kiss your g-spot over and over again.
but what either of you didn’t know—is there was someone watching as matt’s hips slammed into your own. watching how he fucked you dumb, loosing all coherent words.
his brother chris. your other stepbrother.
he was outside with everyone else who seemed to be too oblivious and caught up in what they were doing to notice you getting bent over the arm of the couch.
the second he’d come around the corner with a drink in hand and seen you bent over the couch, bare and taking matt deep—he stopped. he hasn’t meant to stop and watch—to get so wrapped up in watching the way you took every inch his brother gave you. the way your face contorted with pleasure every time matt’s cock kissed your cervix.
god he was entranced by how good you looked.
his body was still, heart thudding heavy in his chest as his eyes locked on the sight through the glass. he couldn’t hear you—but he didn’t need to, to know you sounded like a fucking angel.
his breath grew heavier the longer he watched, feeling the way his cock became painfully hard in his pants. he let out a shaky breath, pulling his gaze away from you to look around the yard—no one had noticed still. chris swallowed thickly, his free hand reaching down to adjust himself as his eyes landed back onto your figure.
he watched matt’s hand in your hair, pulling your head back just to make you arch more. your ass jiggling from the force of each thrust of matt’s cock. watched as matt leaned down and whispered something into your ear, making your eyes roll back as your own lips moved to reply. chris didn’t know what it was matt said—but what he did know, is it effected you.
your body began to shake—teeth digging into your bottom lip to stay quiet.
chris knew you were getting close, and god he wanted to stay to watch you cum—but he knew if he didn’t leave now, he’d cum in the next few second just from seeing you. so quickly and quietly—without dragging attention to himself—he slipped away. the image of you burned into his mind.
back inside—your brain was mush. you were chasing your pleasure. matt’s cock hot and thick as he dragged it along your walls. you could feel him pulsing—feel just how close he was to cumming just like you were.
“y’gonna cum baby?” he moaned, fucking his cock deeper into you. “gonna make a mess all over my fucking cock hm? such a messy fucking slut.” his hand in your hair pushed your head down into the cushions.
and that’s what pushes you over the edge.
“pleasepleaseplease—oh my fuck—“ you cried out, your mouth open and drooling against the cushion. you felt your whole body lock up and shake as you came. your walls fluttering around his cock—milking him for all he has. he groaned, his hips faltering for a second before he kept moving, fucking you through your orgasm.
you collapsed against the couch, the only thing holding you up now was matt’s own hands, his hips moving to chase his own high. “gonna fill this pretty pussy up—fuck.” you could tell he was so close, your hips shallowly moving and fucking yourself on his cock despite how tired you were now. “put your panties back on and send you out there with my cum dripping down your thighs.”
his thrusts were getting sloppy now, hips stuttering. you lifted your head and looked over your shoulder at him again, looking at his face. his brows knitted together and his teeth digging into his bottom lip. “c’mon matt—shit—want you to fill me up. please.”
that seemed to be his breaking point.
he groaned loudly, both hands grabbing at the flesh of your hips as he buried himself deep in your cunt—spilling inside you. you could feel each spurt painting your insides white—and how full you felt of him.
his hips moved a few more times before he finally pulled himself out slowly, watching as some of his cum began to leak out of you. he smirked down at you, seeing how you were already beginning to doze off. quickly he began to tuck himself back into his sweats before turning his attention to you.
he reached for your underwear that was around your ankles, slowly sliding them back up your legs and pulling them snugly over your hips to where they belonged. you whined at the feeling, your body shuddering. matt continued to fix your clothing before he reached down and gently pulled you up and into his arms.
he fixed your hair and dress, making sure you looked presentable before even thinking about sending you back out there. the last thing he did was trail his hand down and press his fingers against your now clothed and soaked pussy, making you gasp and grab at his shirt due to how sensitive you were.
“gonna keep my cum right in there yeah?” he whispered, beginning to circle his fingers. you nodded, legs shaking and threatening to give out from under you. he smiled, pulling his fingers away. “good.”
and just then you both heard the door open, your heads whipping in the direction as you both peeled yourselves away from one another, just as your mom stepped inside.
“there you are!” your mom said with a tone of relief like she was looking for you the whole time—she probably wasn’t. her eyes panned over to matt, giving him a small smile before turning her attention back to you. “i see you and matt are finally getting along, that’s good for you guys.”
you nodded, cheeks reddening as you looked at him from the corner of your eye. your mom smiled wide, already beginning to turn away from the both of you.
“come on you two, i need your help with handing out food.” she spoke as she already began to walk towards the kitchen. you and matt both looked at one another, a smirk tugging on his lips as you began to walk. his hand came out and landed a firm smack to your ass.
the voice note starts and it’s already heavy—wet fabric shifting, skin dragging, and matt’s breath coming in short, desperate little gasps.
"shit—fuck, fuck, baby…"
his voice is all shaky, like he didn’t mean to hit record but couldn’t stop himself. you hear the faint sound of the hoodie beneath him, soft cotton rubbing against skin as he ruts down into it—again and again—like it’s the only thing keeping him from losing his mind.
"feels s’good, i c-can’t—fuck, you left this here and i—i’m fuckin’—fuckin’ humping it like a loser…"
he lets out a moan, high and broken. his thighs slap against the bed. you can hear it—how soaked the fabric is, how wrecked his cock sounds sliding through it. he’s panting like he’s been going at it for way too long.
"smells like you. smells so fuckin’ good, i’m—i’m gonna fuckin’ cum if you keep—if you keep textin’ me like that, sendin’ those photos, you know what you’re doin’, you knew i’d lose it—"
a sharp whimper breaks out of him. you can picture it now—his face buried in your hoodie, back arched, grinding into the bundle like it’s your cunt. there’s a wet squelch as his cock presses harder into the soaked fabric, and he gasps.
"fuck—fuckfuckfuck, m’so close—feels like you, swear it does, i wanna be inside you so bad, wanna cum all over your tummy, your thighs, i’d do anything—anything for you right now, please let me—"
he’s babbling. incoherent, breathless, just gone. it’s all instinct now. his hips stutter. he whines deep in his throat, broken and needy.
"m’gonna cum, baby—m’gonna—fuck, i love you, i fuckin’ love you—"
and then he cums. hard. you can hear it—the wet drag, his breath catching, the soft curse that falls from his lips like a cry. the hoodie muffles his voice as he groans into it, hips grinding down even as he finishes, desperate for just a second longer of that feeling.
he’s quiet after. just breathing. you hear the faint squish of the fabric soaked through. his voice, low and trembling, slips out like he forgot the mic was still on:
matt defies you, his blue eyes piercing through yours — he was trying so hard to win. you hold both of his wrists together on top of his head, his chest panting heavily as you raise your eyebrows. with your free hand, you cup his cheeks, forcing a pout to appear on his lips. he doesn’t talk back, nor tries to move, only slightly bucking his hips upwards.
you chuckle at his eagerness, running your thumb across his beard before slapping his face. matt hisses at the sudden movement, his facial hair only slightly helping with the impact. “you think growing a beard makes you tough huh?” you say, almost mocking him before giving him another quick slap. he’s still refusing to talk, simply shaking his head, mumbling a small “no…”
“can’t hear you” you say, placing a finger on his lips and spreading them apart, forcing your entrance. he opens his mouth, gladly taking it in. “good boy, that’s better” you praise, feeling matt squirm underneath you. you’ve been like this for what feels like hours now — matt complaining and talking back, even with your dildo deep inside him.
“c’mon, you gotta ask nicely” you warn him, not moving an inch. he pouts, silently begging for you to please, please move. you click your tongue, caressing the cheek you had slapped previously. you seal your lips together in a small kiss, the plastic toy slight moving out of him. matt whimpers at the friction, squeezing his eyes shut. “please” he manages to speak, breathing heavily.
“please f-fuck me” matt finally speaks. “there you go sweetheart” you tilt your head, talking to him in a warm, loving tone. “not so tough anymore hm?” you coo, removing your palm from his wrists, allowing his arms to rest. “thought you’d be cockwarming me the whole night, y’know?” you say, starting with slow, sensual thrusts.
matt whines, throwing his head back and gripping on the sheets as you continue to move. he chews on his lips, trying to keep his sounds low. “i wanna hear you” you demand. “trying so hard to be a big boy aren’t you?” you tease, nuzzling your face on the crook of his neck, gently nibbling on his skin, feeling his beard scratching against your cheek.
“f-feels so good” he whispers. your hand hovers over his cock, tracing patterns on his thigh before wrapping your knuckles around his girth, pumping him. “fuck!” matt cusses out, twitching on your fist.
you don’t stop your movements, thrusting harder. matt groans loudly once you hit his sweet spot, causing his legs to tremble. “d-don’t— ah! don’ stop” he asks. the sound of skin slapping takes over the room, his slow moans turning into needy, almost desperate whimpers. “please ma—” he chokes, holding himself from finishing the word.
“say it” you order, receiving a loud whine in response. “mama” matt begs, “please! cum!” matt cries, the knot in his lower tummy growing tighter. you smile at matt, kissing every spot you could reach, showering him with praises. “taking me so well, my good boy”
you bring your thumb to his tip, circling the flushed area in circular motions before rubbing your thumb on his slit, spreading pre cum around and pumping him faster. “make a mess for mama” you command, and matt immediately snaps. his orgasm crashes over him, thick ropes of his release staining your hand and his own tummy in white.
you slow you movements, placing a kiss on his forehead as you start pulling out. “nuh uh!” he whines, glueing your chest against his. you chuckle, nodding at matt, allowing him to keep cockwarming your dildo. “you’re not tough at all, even with that beard”.
i hope matt never shaves 🤍🤍🤍🤍 thank you so much anon for this idea! almost done with the special! sub matt for yall! got a few more things coming this week, hope you like it! if you wanna be added to the special taglist please comment on this post!
tagging the ig baddies that asked to be here! love yall! @luvs4matt @cayleeuhithinknott @vanteguccir @mattslutt @pip4444chris @whore4mattsturniolo @sweetshuga @mattslilies @mattsghoul @owenstar
i should let y'all kick my ass for ghosting these last few months but......
I FINISHED MY FINAL SEMESTER OF COLLEGE!
this semester kicked my ass but i'm so happy it's over. i graduate next week and i'll have much more time to write without any academic stress looming over my head lol. i've been saving up some ideas so i can't wait to start writing. stay tuned ;)
he settles between your legs, spread open for him on the bed — all for his taking as his lips linger over the sensitive skin of your thighs. teasing and tender kisses, muddled with soft praises about how good you felt, and how pretty you looked.
his teasing only seems to make you more desperate, gently rocking your hips upwards every time his tongue passes over your clit — wanting more than he was giving you.
“taste so good.” he murmurs, hands gripping your thighs as he passes his tongue over you, dipping into your wet heat just to taste more.
you whine out, threading your fingers through his hair in the hopes of bringing his face closer — pushing him into your pussy.
“so desperate baby.” he mumbles against you, a small smirk on his face as you simply whine, pulling him closer as your hips continue to grind forward. “fuckin’ needy.” he adds, pulling away to catch his breath as your fingers remained tangled in his hair, pulling at the roots.
“just— feels good.” you admit, sighing a little as he looks up at you, brows furrowed a little as he tries to read your face — like you had more to say.
“is this not enough?” he asks softly, peppering kisses along your thighs and over your pussy, merely touching you as he asks the question.
you let out a shaky breath, body burning hot from whatever had gotten you so worked up in the first place. “i-i… i don’t know.” you admit quietly.
he thinks for a second, lips brushing over you like he didn’t wanna stop despite having to talk. “hm. you want something else?” he asks suggestively, clearly suggesting his dick.
you think for a second, more frustrated than anything. “no— i dunno.” you sigh in defeat, unable to ignore the throb of your cunt — and the way your whole body felt on edge, craving a release.
“i want your mouth— just want…” you trail off, reaching down to run your thumb over his lip, so transfixed on the plushness of them — and honestly his entire face. something about it just made you want it.
his eyes bore up into yours as he lets your thumb rest on his bottom lip, gently parting them — but not enough to push your finger in. “tell me what you want.” he whispers, just wanting to make you feel good.
“your mouth.” you mumble back, transfixed on the way your thumb pressed into his lip, so soft and plump. “just… wanna do it.”
hir brows furrow slightly, fingers still resting on your pussy, mindlessly playing with it. “you wanna do it?” he clarifies, trying to understand what it is you wanted.
there’s a short silence as you continue to play with his lip, just trying to not think about how frustrated you were — or more rather how bad you felt for asking for more.
but then he shifts from between your legs, sitting up slightly as he pulls away from your touch. you watch as he moves, curious as to what he was doing as he sits beside you.
“what’re you doing?” you ask softly, worried he was annoyed or hurt by what you’d said. but it was quite the opposite as he smirks, tapping your thigh.
“sit on my face.” he murmurs, saying it so casually as if it didn’t have your stomach twisting with need and anticipation. “oh.” you swallow a little, slightly taken back by how four words had got you so incredibly worked up in a matter of seconds.
“oh?” he repeats back, questioning your reaction. “you don’t want to?” he taunts, not at all taken back by your response as he looks at you — seeing that look in your eyes that made him sure of the fact you wanted to.
that you needed to.
“i-i.” you try to find the words, but your body’s so hot, and you’re so desperate to just grasp the feeling — you can’t even think or try and speak rationally. you just need it.
“stop then, just get on.” he huffs, having heard enough of your hesitation and mumbling, or whatever it was that you were doing as he lays his head back on the pillow, waiting for you.
you think for a second before shifting to straddle his face, leaving a space between him and your pussy — hesitant on how you were meant to sit and how much weight you were meant to—
“jesus, just-“ he sighs, hands firmly gripping your hips to pull you down, closing the gap. you gasp a little, feeling his tongue dip into your folds immediately — lapping you up hungrily.
“ooh, f-fuck.” you whine, face scrunching up in pleasure as you hold onto the headboard, trying to keep your balance without putting all your weight down.
he groans against you, fingers digging into your skin to keep you there as you gasp out, body tensing from the feeling of his tongue passing over your clit — and the way you were holding yourself up.
“don’t.” he mumbles against you, lips brushing over your pussy as his eyes open to look up at you, a slightly frustrated look on his face. “don’t what?” you question quietly.
“don’t hover, you’re like fuckin’…” he grips your hips harder as he speaks, trying to tell you to sit on his face properly, and put all your weight on him.
you hold onto the headboard, letting your body relax and rest on him — slightly worried about suffocating him. he groans, kissing your folds before pulling his face back to run his thumb over your clit. “atta girl.”
before you can even respond, his lips are on you, sucking and licking at your clit as he quite literally eats you — unable to do anything but that with your pussy pushed up against his mouth.
“fuuck, god matt— i-i, mm.” you moan out, one hand moving down to grip his hair to stabalize yourself, looking down to see his eyes shut in concentration, brows furrowed as his jaw clenched each time he moved to go deeper into your heat.
and only when he lets out a guttural groan do you realise the way you’d been grinding your hips, so lost in the feeling you didn’t care — simply chasing your release so desperately.
“mmgh.” he groans beneath you again as you shift forward, his tongue dipping into your cunt as your clit nudged against the tip of his nose. “ahh, shiit.” you whine.
he doesn’t even care that he can hardly breathe, hands remaining on your thighs to keep you there — feeling the way your hips rock back and forth so perfectly to grind your needy cunt against his face.
in all honesty, his dick had never been harder. hearing the way you moan so freely, taking control of what you needed by using his face like this.
he fucking loved every second of it, drunk on the taste of you — and so content with his head stuffed between your thighs.
“oh g-god.” you grit out, moving quickly against his nose, not a care in the world as you grind your hips at the perfect angle — body buzzing with the repeated stimulation of his nose buried in your pussy — rubbing over your clit.
“fuck— gonna cum, o-oh fuuck.” you moan, body sticky with sweat as you keep going, fingers only gripping onto the roots of his hair harder to keep him beneath you.
he moans into you at your words, the thought of you coming all over his face enough to have his dick twitching in his pants — pumping out enough pre cum to soak through.
“fuck matt, ooh fuuck yess— ahh.” you completely fall apart above him, feeling your release in your entire body as he continues to flick his tongue over your sopping pussy. the only thing keeping you up being matts firm grip on your hips.
it takes a second for you to catch your breath, head resting against the headboard before you climb off with shaky legs — matt still trying to get a taste as his tongue flicks over your clit.
“oh my god.” you breathe out, melting into the bed below you as he lays in silence next to you. “that was so fucking hot.” he mumbles, staring up at the ceiling, arms behind his head as he licks the taste of you off his lips.
“yeah?” you smirk, still sweating but on such a rush you couldn’t help but be cocky.
he scoffs a little, head nodding down to his crotch. “few more minutes and i would’ve cum in my fuckin’ pants.” he admits, a little out of breath.
you can’t help but smile at the prospect, looking back up at his pretty face wishing you could’ve stayed there forever.
would you write older!ron weasley x potter!reader where reader is harry‘s new stepdaughter & ron has never met her before. so one day they hook up & take a selfie afterwards cause they got along great. so ron is bragging about banging this hot chick last night & showed his friends the picture. well hermione recognizes reader as harry’s stepdaughter & immediately tells ron. he freaks out „what?!? but she’s not a minor, right?! she said she was 25!“ „no but she turned 18 just 2 months ago!“
and then harry finds out too!🤭 would be so funny! but reader & ron are a good couple so it’s all sorted out in the end🙂↔️ pls include smut!!🤭
Buy you a drink - ron weasley x harry's step-daughter reader
summary: when ron unexpectedly meets the girl of his dreams through a one night stand, he rushes to tell his friends the next day. but unfortunately, that reveals some new information about you, the apparent love of his life.
wc: 3976
cw: smut, age gappp (r! 19, for the logistics to work, ron mid/late 30's, kind of dbf vibe but they don't know yet)
divider by @bernardsbendystraws
Ever since the new year had hit, Ron was convinced that this was his year. There were some moments in which he doubted that (severely), but other times the universe showed him it was on his side.
For instance, when Seamus had dragged Ron to a pub after work with a large group of giggling girls in a corner, Ron had shaken his head, begging Seamus to find another spot to spend the night. However, the bartender had quickly cut in, telling him “Oh give them a break, it’s a birthday celebration.” And begrudgingly, Ron had let Seamus drag him to the only available booth left, just next to the table they occupied. As the night went on though, Ron found himself warming up to the group of giggling girls, listening in on the funny jokes they shared. “Hey, let me buy the birthday girl a drink.” Ron had finally told Seamus, halting their conversation momentarily as he waved over one of the cocktail waitresses. “Uh if you have any idea what the birthday girl on that table is drinking, could you get her another one? Put it on my tab.”
Ron had no idea whose birthday it was, but when Seamus snuck off to the bathroom, leaving him alone, he was glad he had decided on being generous. Why? Well, the most beautiful woman he had seen in his life had stood from the table of girls, wearing a short, black, corseted dress that exaggerated all of her curves. Your eyes met as you made your way towards Ron, a gorgeous smile on your face. Ron felt his breath hitch in his throat, shuffling deeper into his side of the booth to make space for you to sit down. You did, sliding in next to him, and cocking your head to the side.
“You know, I’m not a believer that I owe something to men who buy me drinks, but how can I resist when you are just so handsome?”
Ron literally felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of your velvety voice. He leaned forward, putting on his most charming smile, and instantly noticed the way your eyes flickered down to steal a glance at his lips. Ron brought his hand up to his face, caressing the stubble on his chin. Your eyes were instantly attracted to the movement, only snapping back up when he spoke for the first time. His voice was deep and smooth, making your thighs squeeze together as he said “Well I don’t usually buy women drinks, but how could I help it when you look like an angel sent from heaven? You know, I’m trying to score my place there.” You giggled softly, putting a hand on his bicep. “That’s sweet if we’re not thinking about the fact that there’s no way of telling I am the birthday girl.”
Ron gulped, his cheeks flushing for being caught in his lie. “Would you believe me if I said I could just sense it was you? Because that’s not the truth.” You laughed, squeezing Ron’s bicep slightly where your hand was placed. Ron looked down at where your second hand was placed neatly on your lap. He lifted it up softly, leaning his face down slightly to press a soft kiss to the back of your hand. “The truth is that I felt kind today. And I’ve never been happier to be kind because I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of witnessing your beauty otherwise.”
“That’s awfully poetic. Shame the only thing I have to say is that I thought you were leng.” Ron chuckled, letting go of your hand to wrap his big hand around his beer, taking a big swig of the drink. “I think that’s the best thing I’ve heard in a long time. I don’t think I’ve ever tried flattering a woman like I did with you, and to find out I could’ve just gone with ‘leng’” You shrugged, tilting your head to the side. “Well I don’t mind when a man is being poetic to me. Not too picky about it.” Ron smiled, a hand falling on your bare thigh, sticking his other one out in front of you. “Well I’m Ron, by the way. Sometimes I can be a poet, most of the time I’m not.”
You eagerly shook his hand, revelling in the rough touch to his skin. “I’m y/n - not a poet any of the time.” A silence fell amongst you, in which you just looked at each other, hands still clasped together. You broke eye contact with him, running your gaze down his body, and you caught a glimpse of the shiny badge on his waistcoat. Your eyes widened slightly, recognising that he wore the same badge your step-dad usually did. “You’re an auror?” You question, reaching up to run a finger over the shiny metal. Ron hummed wordlessly, and he noticed the mischievous glint blooming in your eyes when you asked “Will you walk me home later then? To keep me safe of anything looming in the shadows?”
“And you said you weren’t a poet.”
It didn’t take long for either of you to be walking out of the pub with your arms wrapped around each other. Despite Ron’s job as an auror, neither of you were paying enough attention to the streets you were walking on, too engrossed in the way each other’s lips moved when you spoke, desperate for the other to kiss you first so you could finally pounce.
When you were finally in front of your apartment door, you fiddled with your keys, taking several attempts until you finally managed to slide it into its position, unlocking the door with a satisfying click. You could smell Ron, his musky cologne radiating off his skin. His scent completely engulfed you as you locked the door behind you, both his arms locking you between him and your your front door. Giggling nervously, you pressed yourself onto your tippy toes, curling your arms over Ron’s broad shoulders as you smoothed your body flat against his.
Ron took a couple of steps forward until your back was flat against the dark wood of your front door before he finally leaned in to kiss you, his lips teasingly hovering just above yours. With a whine, you gave yourself the last push, launching yourself closer to Ron to deeply kiss him. It was as though something in Ron suddenly snapped, his fingertips gliding against the skin of your waist before tightly gripping you and tugging you deeper into your apartment. Gasping when the man suddenly began groping your ass, you arched your chest into his.
The older man pulled away from the kiss with a gasp, his lips barely touching yours as he gruffly asked “Bedroom?” You pointed to the door across the room, a breath of air getting caught in your throat as he dragged you in its direction, shoving the door open and encouraging you into the room.
Ron removed his waistcoat without bothering to undo its buttons, and he did the same with shirt. Yanking the tie from around his neck and tossing it into the corner of your room, Ron suddenly gasped as you undid the button of his trousers, fingers grazing over his erection as you tugged him closer to your bed, which you sat on the edge of. “Shit” He mumbled, watching carefully as you pushed his trousers down his thighs, his boxers quickly following.
Just as Ron decided to take over, leaning down to remove the articles of clothing completely, you wrapped your fingers around his length, stroking him a couple of times until pearly beads of pre-cum trickled down his thick member. A hand cupped your cheek and you looked up curiously, smiling softly at Ron before ducking your head down and licking the tip of his cock. With a whimper, Ron thrusted his hips up, pushing his cock into your mouth.
“Shit, sorry,” He apologised, pulling out of your mouth completely, “I didn’t mean to.” Giggling softly, you shook your head, repeating your previous movement. “It’s okay, I liked it.” Your hand squeezed the shaft of Ron, cock, and he immediately wrapped a hand around your wrist, halting your movements. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself. I won’t last long.”
You stood up, the tight proximity between you and Ron heightening the tension in the room as his cock grazed your stomach through your short dress. Ron didn’t move away, his fingers edging towards the bottom of your dress. He slowly pulled the fabric up your body, teasing himself as inches of your skin were revealed at a time. You lifted your arms up once the fabric surpassed your chest, and Ron eagerly tugged it off you before his hands were immediately on your body again, lips leaving kisses down your neck as his big hands groped at your braless chest and the fat of your ass. You whimpered as he bit down on the skin of your neck, tilting your head to expose more surface area to him, which he keenly welcomed with more kisses.
Squeezing your thighs together, you let Ron push you back on the bed, climbing over you to trap you between his beefy body and the mattress underneath you. You gasped as Ron wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, leaning on one forearm to hold himself up whilst the other one trailed down your body, nudging your legs apart from each other. “Oh!” You panted, closing your legs around Ron’s hand when he finally reached your cunt, fingers sliding under the flimsy material of your underwear to touch you.
“Be a good girl and keep your legs open for me.” Ron instructed, lifting his head off your chest and reconnecting your lips. A shudder ran through your body at the term of endearment, and your legs immediately fell open. Ron rewarded you with a satisfied hum, swallowed in the kiss as his fingers gently rubbed your clit before sliding down your pussy, feeling how wet you were. You snaked a hand through Ron’s fiery hair as he slid two fingers into you, licking at his bottom lip so he could get the hint and deepen the kiss.
And deepen the kiss, he did, his tongue roughly gliding against yours, swallowing every single moan you had to offer him as he pumped his digits inside you, scissoring them to stretch you out. Suddenly, Ron was lifting his body off you, expelling a disappointed cry from you as his fingers slipped out of your needy pussy. The man giggled, watching your cunt pulsate in front of him. You shut your legs at the sight of his gaze fixed onto your cunt, watching as he kicked off his shoes and tore his trousers off the rest of his legs.
As Ron climbed back onto the bed, you pushed yourself higher onto it so you could have enough space. His fingers wrapped around your ankle and you stopped your movements, freezing when he dipped his head down to press a kiss to the skin above his hand, continuing to trail them up your leg until he was leaving a wet stamp of saliva all the way up your inner thighs. He hooked his fingers into the band of your underwear, shooting you one last look before slipping them down your legs. You enthusiastically kicked them off your feet, one arm hooking over Ron’s shoulder to pull him down onto you. He chuckled as you bucked your hips up, eager for friction. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?”
“Not little.” You disagreed, but Ron chuckled nonetheless, glancing down where his cock was resting on your abdomen. “We’ll see about that.” Ron gripped his cock, guiding himself into your entrance, moaning as he pushed the tip in, feeling your tight walls constrict around him. “Fuck, you’re tight. When was the last time someone took care of you huh?” You were too busy moaning to immediately answer his question, hooking a leg over his hip as he pushed deeper into you. “Fuck - like this? Never.”
Ron started snapping his hips into you at a fast pace, smirking in amusement as you screwed your eyes shut, mouth falling open to expel loud moans into the small room. “Yeah? These young men can’t give you pleasure this good?” Ron bit his lip as a groan grumbled in his chest, gasping when you slung your second leg over his hip to connect with your other one at the base of his back, closing the proximity between you. “No… no one fucks - oh god - no one fucks me this good!” Ron felt his cock twitch inside you at the unexpected praise, and he pushed your hair away from your neck to latch his lips onto it, sucking harshly on the skin.
He groaned against you as a hand came up to tug at his hair, moving your hips with the rhythm of his harsh thrusts. You lifted your free hand to play with your nipples, pinching them softly to add to your pleasure. Ron’s eyes fleeted over momentarily to watch the movement, groaning as he realised you were pleasuring yourself too. One of his hands trailed down your body to rest on your pelvis, pushing your body deeper into the mattress as he increased the power of his thrusts.
You gasped, back arching as the tip of his cock began repeatedly hitting the spongy spot inside you, your grip on Ron’s hair loosening so you could dig your nails into the sweaty skin of his back as you held on for dear life. Ron panted, moving his lips up to capture your lips in a desperate, messy kiss, full of tongue and hot breath.
“I’m close!” You cried, but Ron didn’t need you to tell him that, because he could feel it from the way your pussy began clenching around his dick. Ron lowered his hand down to your cunt, returning to their previous spot on your clit to put pressure on it again, rubbing circles on the bundle of nerves with more power than he previously had. “Oh my god!” You moaned, back arching off the bed, nipples rubbing against Ron’s chest. “I’m so- I’m so-” But your words were cut off by the string of cries of Ron’s name, using your legs to pull his pelvis deeper into you.
“Fuck, fuck, I’m coming.” Ron grunted, his hips digging into yours as he halted his movements, spilling his seed into you with thick ropes of cum. The overwhelming pleasure began fading away, leaving you in a state of post-orgasmic bliss. You unravelled your legs from around Ron’s body as he panted heavily, his face hidden in the crook of your neck. Raising your hand, your softly brushed away rogue strands of hair from his face, leaning down to press a kiss on his cheek that had a hot fluff overtaking his face.
With great effort, Ron pulled himself out of you, slumping down on bed next to you, his back leaning on the headboard. You turned around onto your stomach, pushing yourself up with a loud exhale of air before crawling over to Ron and settling yourself over his lap in a straddling position. Pleasantly surprised, Ron let out a fond laugh, his arms snaking around your waist to rest his hands on your ass. “You alright?” Ron asked, his voice hoarse. You hummed, resting your head on his chest.
This man, this stranger who you had known for no longer than three hours yet felt inexplicably safe around, with his cum dripping out of your cunt and onto his thighs.
“You look beautiful like this.” Ron found himself saying, pulling a suddenly shy smile out of you. He reached over the side of the bed, where his trousers lay, and he fumbled with the pockets until he felt for his phone. You watched curiously as he unlocked the device, finding the camera app and flipping the camera to face towards him. Ron pulled the camera back, just enough so both your faces were in the frame, and without instruction, you pressed a long kiss to Ron’s cheek, hearing the click of the camera as the image was captured.
“Another one, so I can remember your smile.” He bid you, and you smiled softly, looking at the camera as you admired how cute of a couple you would make.
“There’s no reason you'll have to remember it.” You said, reaching out to take the phone from his hands. You searched for the contacts app, opening a new file and adding your information to it before tossing his phone aside on the bed and pressing a slow kiss to his lips. Ron hummed, both hands resting on your waist. When you broke away from the kiss, you looked down to the spot your mixed cum had pooled down onto Ron’s thighs, and muttered “We should probably shower.”
And Ron nodded, walking with you into the shower, steaming water running down both your bodies as Ron pulled another orgasm out of you, his fingers selfishly rubbing you between your legs so he could watch the look of pure ecstasy cross your face again. He watched the way your back arched against this chest through the foggy mirror, whispering filthy words in your ears as you came again, your knees giving out on you. You only remained standing up because of Ron's muscular arm wrapped around your waist. When you were guided back to your bed, slumping down in exhaustion, Ron pulled your body against his, face finding home in the crook of your neck as he pressed one last kiss to your skin before falling fast asleep.
Despite his alarm ringing loudly the next morning, you were still snoozing away when Ron turned his phone off, struggling back into his clothes as his muscles groaned tiredly. Still, he walked into your kitchen and busied himself so that when you woke up, trudging into the open space of your flat in nothing but panties and a tank top, you found Ron making pancakes, a look of adoration in his eyes when he turned to greet you despite the mess you looked. “I was hoping I’d get a proper goodbye before going to work.” He sheepishly admitted as you wrapped your arms around him, giving him a gentle, tired kiss. “It’s already 10 though…”
“I work in the afternoon on saturdays.” He told you, offering you a plate stacked with freshly baked pancakes. You stole one off the top of the pile, and Ron followed you onto the couch like a lost puppy, abandoning half of the raw pancake mix in the bowl by the extinguished stove. Ron accepted all of the fluttering kisses you pressed on his skin before he finally had enough, cupping your cheeks in his hands and giving you a proper kiss. You moaned quietly, and Ron pushed you back to lay down on the couch, his lips separating from yours to continue pressing kisses down your body. He licked his lips as he reached your cunt, slipping your panties off to press a few teasing kisses to your inner thighs before moving your pussy, already wet with arousal. You held your breath, watching as he caressed the sides of your thighs, until suddenly, a phone started ringing.
Ron jumped up at the sound, abandoning you on the couch to find the source of the noise. He shot you an apologetic look as he read the name on the screen, answering the man on the other side of the line. Ron began nodded and humming along to whatever he had to say, and occasionally rolling his eyes in amusement too. Sighing, you slid your underwear back into place and sat up on the couch, stealing another pancake to nibble on. Ron hung up the phone and rushed towards you, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips before he was snatching a pancake and saying “I have to go, I’m sorry love.”
You smiled, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s okay. Don’t be a stranger.” Ron grinned, looking back at you as he opened your front door. “Oh trust me, I still haven't started with you.”
When Ron apparated to his apartment, he was met with three awaiting figures already sitting at his dining table. “I forgot, I’m sorry.” Seamus laughed as he unpacked the pastries they had bought, snatching the pancake from Ron's hand and tossing it aside. Hermione’s arms were crossed over her chest as she took in Ron’s appearance with amused eyes, and Neville responded to Ron’s comment with a shake of his head. “This was what I’m spending my days off on.” “Oh, calm it Nev, you’re a teacher.”
But as Ron sat down, he realised there was someone missing. Harry Potter. Ron paid no mind to Harry’s absence, used to his best friend’s disregard for punctuality. “So, how did it go last night?” Teased Seamus, shooting Ron a look from the corner of his eye. Hermione grinned fully now, nodding towards Ron’s chaotic appearance. The man hadn’t even thought of checking what he looked like in one of the many mirrors in your flat, but he was positive anyone could tell that he had fucked someone the night before.
“You guys won’t believe it. I think I met the love of my life.”
Neville’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at the revelation. If Ron was making such a bold statement, it had to be true because he was never the one to fall for someone so easily. “Let me show you guys.” Ron fished in his pocket for his phone, pulling up the selfie you had taken last night in bed. Seamus snorted as he took the phone from Ron’s hands, swiping to see the image of you kissing his cheek. “You seriously took a selfie after shagging?” At those words, Hermione snatched the phone from across the table, putting it in the middle of her and Neville so the boy could see the image.
But as Hermione observed the image of you more closely, looking at the one where you both smiled into the camera, her jaw completely dropped. “Ron.” Hermione gasped, looking straight up at her friend with wide eyes. “What? Hermione, what!?” Hermione shut the phone off, handing it to Ron as she finally stated “That’s Harry’s step-daughter.” Unanimous gasps shot out in the room and Seamus choked on his drink.
“You’re lying to me.”
“Why would I lie to you about that!?”
“Oh Godric, Harry’s going to kill me. I thought his step-daughter was young!? She’s not a minor is she?”
Hermione looked at Ron with a disapproving gaze “You slept with her without asking how old she is!?”
“She said she was 25! But that doesn’t make sense if she’s Harry’s step-daughter!”
Hermione snatched Ron’s phone off the table, unlocking it and returning to the photo album. Ron did a double take “You know my pass-” But his words were interrupted as Hermione shoved his own phone in his face, the image you had taken staring back at him. “Ron, does this girl seriously look 25 to you?”
“I’d fall for it.” Defended Seamus, shrugging his shoulders. “Of course you would. But you got lucky with this one Ron, she turned nineteen like two days ago.”
Ron felt as though his eyes bulged out of his face at the discovery, and for a moment he just stared back at Hermione. “How on earth am I going to marry Harry’s step-daughter?” A silence took over the room as the door closed, and Ron slowly turned his face towards the front door, panic overtaking his features as Harry Potter, boy who lived, killer of Voldemort, walked into the room.
⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Sub .ᐟ Matt making you squirt for the first time...
⚠︎ Smutty blurb. Squirting, fingers, sub!matt, use of 'ma,' begging, and more
“That’s it, ma, c’mon, fuck…” Matt moans. The scene displayed in front of him is enough to make him so hard it hurts. His cock is painfully throbbing against the bed, his hips mindlessly grinding into the soft material as he watches you writhe.
“It—I, oh my god, Matt, it—” Your words do little to help his current predicament. If anything, the tip of his dick is aching so much he’s sure it’s almost purple—but, he doesn’t care. This isn’t about him. It’s about his girl—it’s about you.
“C’mon…so—so wet, fuck—keep grinding into my fingers—jusssttt like that,” he praises, a moan falling from his lips as he feels his dick pulse with desperation. The small vibrator he has placed against your clit is working wonders. You never knew everything could feel so overwhelming good like this.
Scissoring his fingers against the spot that makes your back arch off the bed, Matt is driven with passion. It feels good—too good. The added sensations from the small bullet makes your body crave more than you can handle, your limbs falling into his trap—begging for more.
Desperate whimpers and pleas start falling from your lips. It’s unusual. You're typically the one in full control, but right now you’re pliant under his touch. But he's just as desperate as you—maybe even more.
To Matt, this was all part of the process. You had come close to finishing a couple of times, but he kept slowing down just enough to make the knot dissipate before you could come undone. The way your walls clamped around his fingers was mesmerizing. He loved watching you fall apart for him, but this time he wanted to see you really fall apart.
Matt notices how uncontrolled your actions are. Your hips grind against him helplessly. He can hear the subtle tear of your nails clawing into the bed sheets a little too hard. “Shit—you’re close, I—I can feel it,” he breathes, his words rushed as he tries to focus on keeping his movements the exact same.
Broken cries leave in between moans. You can’t even gather the ability to respond. Matt’s always been incessant on making you chant his name when you come undone, but not this time. He’s not begging for you to do anything but feel. This time he’s only focused on you. “Fuckkkkkkk….clenching ‘round my fingers so tight. I,” Matt lets out his own deep groan as your wet, sloppy cunt squelches with layers of slick. “---you got it, mhm. Just…just let go for me. Please, I—I need you to let go for me.”
The small encouragement is enough to coax your mind into falling numb. Quivering legs clamp on either side of him, pushing against his shoulders tightly. He doesn’t care—not when you’re like this. “Oh—oh my—-oh my, fuck!” you scream.
Matt feels like he’s living in his own daydream watching a clear wetness splatter out of you. A sloppy mess is being created, small sprays of liquid squirting out of your pussy as he keeps his movements consistent. “Holy—ohmygod. Than—thank you,,” he breathes.
Slowly riding you down from your high, he can’t help but rest his forehead against your inner leg—your wet inner leg. He’s already edged you a couple of times, building you up to experience the gut twisting bliss of squirting all over him. With little self restraint, Matt licks the slick from your legs. “Mmmmmm, you taste so good. So fucking good,” he rasps between hungry, open-mouthed kisses.
You’re too tired to even move. Your legs are still shaking on either side of him. Reaching down, you comb through his hair. Matt is quick to rest his head completely on your thigh, his eyes staring towards your pussy that looks heavenly all swollen and wet. “---’m so….’m so tired,” you announce breathlessly.
A soft moan erupting from his mouth makes you look down. You watch as his hips roll into the mattress, his eyes devoted to analyzing your pulsing lips. “Matt,” as you go to sit up, your legs start to close.
Out of pure instincts, Matt can’t help but pin your inner thigh down with a flat palm. “No, just—mmmm, just stay like this, please. I—I’m so close,” he huffs out.
With intention ridden in his eyes, Matt continues his rocking motions. Small whimpers push through his lips with each thrust of his hips into the bed. “Keep…keep playing with my hair, ma. I—-please, fuck,” he rasps.
Gently, you push your fingers through his hair. Matt clutches onto each of your thighs tighter, a small puddle of drool falls between his cheek and your legs. And fuck….he looks heavenly.
Wanted to rewrite this with him being subby lol. Thank you for reading, I hope your sex toys are fully charged. Any interaction is appreciated! This is apart of my benchmark special! THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT!
