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welcome to my blog
emily/mimi ★,,18
pina colada. young thug ♪. documentarys. sturniolo triplets. coryxkenshin. frank ocean ♪. street wear. rain. chunky jewelry. tanlines. the beach. romcoms. deep convos. the weeknd ♪. eye contact.
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rafa is a fuckin freak idc. if there’s anything you haven’t tried, trust you WILL end up trying it with him.
your sex life had been very vanilla before him, not many positions tried or new things experimented, just normal.
rafe didn’t mean to push his kinks onto you, it just happened. he just wasn’t a vanilla person like AT ALL. so yes he could say he didn’t mean to slap you in the middle of missionary while also slamming his dick into you, but you didn’t seem to not like it.
in fact you moaned louder after the impact, and the sting afterwards had you clenching around him. “ohh you like that huh baby? you like it when i slap you don’t ya?” he smirks at you and all you can do is whine.
“d-do it again” you whisper, barely able to get the words out. “speak up baby, let me know what you need.” he heard you of course and you knew that, but if you were gonna be a freak and ask him to slap you again, he wanted you to be loud and proud about it. “p-please slap me again rafe.” you beg, he smirks before landing another one on your cheek, then moving down to slap your tit. you moan louder, strangely loving this even though you felt you shouldn’t.
yes rafe is a freak, but apparently you are too.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
very short drabble but i couldn’t stop thinking abt this whoops! 😝
| in which..ex boyfriend chris texts you when you’re out w your new boyfriend | dividers: @bernardsbendystraws
| warnings: mean chris, mentions of infidelity, mentions of sex
𝒄𝒖𝒇𝒇 𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏
cw: cuffing, sub!matt, 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆!𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝑨𝑼, angst w no comfort, sad ending
continuation of these texts
important to note i made her drunk in the texts but she is 100% sober in this fic
You stood outside his door for the third time this week. You didn’t exactly want to be here—but you always ended up here anyway. The place had become tied to two feelings that shouldn’t coexist: the rush of excitement, because you knew the sex would be insane, and that quiet ache in your chest, knowing he’d probably kick you out right after. Or worse: treat you like you were just another thing he could use.
And yet, lately, it felt… different. Maybe he was going soft. Sometimes he let you stay in his bed after, sometimes he even texted you first. Hell, he’d even hung out with you once or twice without immediately pushing for sex. Not that you wanted to date him—god, Matt was far too much of an asshole to make a good boyfriend—but still, a scrap of warmth wasn’t too much to want.
You knocked again, harder this time. The door swung open almost immediately, revealing Matt with his arms crossed, his expression bored, but the faint flush on his cheeks gave him away.
“Hey, Matt,” you said sweetly, stepping into the warm house. He rolled his eyes and shut the door behind you.
“Nick and Chris are out tonight,” he said flatly, the implication obvious.
You flopped down onto his couch with a smile, raising the tote bag you’d brought. “Brought snacks. Chips, candy, and apple juice—your favorite.”
Matt’s face screwed up. “Why the fuck would you bring snacks? We were literally just texting about fucking. Or, actually—you were spamming me about it.” He snorted, sinking into the couch across from you.
You smirked. “Really? What did I say again? Can’t remember.”
“Pretty sure it was something about tying me up and making me beg.” His amused face twisted as he recalled the list. “Dom me, ruin me, all that—” He cut himself off when he saw the grin spreading across your face.
“No.”
“Matttt,” you whined, “why not? You wreck me all the time. Let me flip it just once!”
“It’s not happening.”
“Why? I know you’d like it, you fucking freak.”
He narrowed his eyes. “No, I won’t.”
You leaned closer, smirking. “Then prove it. Let me try.”
He hesitated. Either suffer your endless nagging, or let you have your shot and get it over with. Finally, he sighed hard enough to ruffle his own bangs.
“Fine. Just ‘cause I know you’ll never shut the fuck up otherwise.”
You beamed, bouncing off the couch in victory. “Yes!”
Matt grimaced, muttering under his breath. “This is gonna be embarrassing for you, not me.”
“What are you even gonna do? You don’t have any toys,” he added, trying to sound casual.
Your head snapped toward him. “Liar.”
His jaw tightened. “The fuck do you mean, liar? I don’t have anything.” But the way he avoided your gaze, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt—Matt, who was never nervous—said otherwise.
“There’s no way you don’t have a whole stash. We’ve literally used some before.” You smirked. “Slut through and through, admit it.”
“I’m not admitting shit.”
“Not even a little?” you teased.
“No.” He stood in defiance, but you grabbed his wrist and yanked him back toward you, forcing him to stand in front of where you sat.
“Please, Matt?” You let your voice drop lower, deliberately sultry, tilting your head and batting your lashes. “Want it so bad…”
He inhaled through his nose, slow and controlled. For all his attitude, he couldn’t handle you begging.
“I’ll make it feel good,” you whispered, sliding your hands up his chest.
With another sigh, he broke, grabbing you and tugging you to your feet as he started walking toward his room. “Fuck it. If we’re already fucking, might as well let you embarrass yourself.”
You trailed after him, grinning like you’d won the lottery.
Inside his room, he sat heavily on the bed, arms crossed. The space was woodsy and warm—so unlike him, it was almost funny. He jerked his chin toward the bedframe.
“Under. Bottom left.”
You giggled at his “secret” hiding spot, dropping to your knees to fish out a shoe box that was way too heavy for what it should be.
“Nice view,” he whistled, earning himself a playful glare.
When you sat back on the bed with the box, he pressed a hand on the lid. “Before you open it—half of these are gag gifts, some are old presents, and the rest are… clean.”
You grinned. “Whatever you say, Matt. Just praying I don’t find a dog tail plug in here.”
You lifted the lid—and immediately burst out laughing.
Right on top was a massive dildo. Matt winced.
“Recently used?” you asked, turning it over in your hand.
He shrugged, flushing. “’s not like I only fuck you.”
One by one, you pulled out vibrators, dildos, even a pocket pussy you howled at.
“That was a joke gift!” he insisted.
Then you found the fuzzy purple handcuffs and a blindfold.
“Matt…”
He snatched them away instantly. “Not mine. For bitches like you.”
You smirked. “Okay, but it could be.”
“No.”
“Matt. You agreed.”
He groaned loudly, covering his face with both hands. “Oh my fuck. Fine. But this is gonna be so fucking embarrassing for you.”
You dangled the cuffs with a wicked grin. “We’ll see, baby.”
Minutes later, the bed was cleared, the toys stashed again, and Matt was sitting naked in front of you, cuffs still waiting. Despite all his protests, his cock was already half-hard, his face tight with effort not to look affected. The room glowed with warm light and soft music—a stupidly romantic setting for what this was.
“I look ridiculous,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes.
You snorted, fastening the cuffs behind his back. “Yeah, imagine how I feel when you do this shit to me.”
He tested the restraints and groaned in annoyance, but his cock twitched in betrayal.
You gestured to it. “Thought you weren’t gonna like this?”
He flushed. “Whatever. I’m barely hard. Not like you’ve seen me soft.”
You giggled softly, tugging your shirt off in one smooth motion. Underneath was his favorite bra—the one that made your chest look perfect.
His eyes snapped to your tits instantly, his scowl deepening.
“Why the fuck would you wear that one? Can’t even touch you like this.”
You just smiled, taking your time stripping. When your bra finally fell, his groan was almost pained. He looked mad, but he couldn’t look away.
Finally, you climbed onto his thighs, straddling him. His breath hitched.
“Wanna touch your tits,” he muttered, eyes flicking from your face to your chest.
“Well, you can’t,” you said sweetly. “But you can use that pretty mouth.”
His glare deepened at the dirty talk, but he leaned forward anyway, lips wrapping around your nipple almost hungrily. You tangled your hands in his hair, tugging, and he groaned against you, lashes fluttering.
“Pretty,” you breathed, pulling harder at his roots.
He mumbled something that sounded like “shut up,” muffled by your tits.
Eventually, you pulled him up into a sloppy kiss, losing yourself in the way he sighed against you, in how soft his noises got when he forgot to fight them down.
You broke the kiss and pushed at his chest. “Lie back.”
He shot you a look that could kill, but obeyed, shifting until he was stretched out on the bed, wrists bound.
You slid down, gaze locked on the hard line of his cock, now fully stiff and dripping precum. Slowly, deliberately, you wrapped your hand around the base.
Slowly, you move your hand up and squeeze gently at the tip, spreading the slick across his length. Matt groans low in his throat, hips twitching up despite himself.
“Barely hard, huh?” you tease, stroking him lazily. His jaw clenches, and he glares at you with that stubborn defiance he always falls back on.
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
You lean down again, kissing him messy, your pace still agonizingly slow. He jerks against the cuffs, but they don’t give—only rattling slightly behind him. The sound alone makes your stomach flip.
“Y’don’t like this, remember?” you murmur against his lips. “So why’s your cock dripping all over my hand?”
His only answer is a frustrated growl, his chest rising and falling faster as you tighten your grip, dragging your fist down his length. He’s pink to the tips of his ears now, brows furrowed, lips parted around quick, shallow breaths.
You shift forward and sink down onto him in one steady motion. The sound he makes—half strangled, half helpless—goes straight to your core.
“Fuck—” He throws his head back, eyes squeezing shut, wrists pulling hard against the cuffs. “God, I—”
“That’s it,” you whisper, hands braced against his chest as you set a slow, grinding rhythm. “Take it, baby. You’re mine right now.”
His eyes fly open at that, glassy and wide. He’s completely gone—hips lifting up to meet you, teeth biting into his lower lip as if it’s the only thing keeping him together. Every thrust drags another broken sound out of him, every grind another twitch in his arms as he struggles against the cuffs.
You lean forward until your mouth is right by his ear. “You look so pretty like this. Bet you’ll come faster than me.”
“N-no,” he gasps, shaking his head even as his body bucks desperately under yours. “Not—fuck—not gonna—”
But his voice cracks, and you feel him throbbing inside you, dangerously close.
“C’mon, Matt,” you coax, tugging at his hair again. “Give it to me.”
That’s all it takes—his whole body seizes, head tipping back, eyes rolling as he spills hot and sudden inside you. The noises he makes are wrecked and unfiltered, every ounce of cocky control gone.
You ride him through it, watching him unravel, watching his usual composure burn to ash. By the time you finally slow, he’s panting, sweat-damp hair stuck to his forehead, wrists flexing uselessly behind him.
Silence hangs for a beat, broken only by the sound of his breathing.
Then, finally, he glares weakly at you through hooded eyes. “Don’t… say a word.”
You grin, leaning down to press a kiss to his jaw. “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”
You let him catch his breath for a moment before finally leaning back and unclipping the cuffs. His arms fall forward stiffly, and he groans, rubbing at his wrists.
“God, that was the most uncomfortable shit ever,” he mutters, still flushed and sweaty. “Don’t ever think you’re pulling that again.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Looked like you were about to cry from how good it felt.”
He shoots you a sharp look, lips curling into a scoff. “You wish. I could’ve finished without you doing any of that dumb shit.”
You laugh, shifting off him to sit back on the bed. “Uh-huh. That’s why you were whining my name like that.”
“Didn’t whine,” he snaps, running a hand through his hair. “And if you tell anyone about this, I’ll deny it so fast you won’t even believe it happened.”
“Relax,” you say, smirking. “Your secret’s safe. But admit it—you liked being mine for once.”
He gives you a humorless chuckle, finally standing up to grab a t-shirt from the floor. “Yeah, keep dreaming. I let you mess around ‘cause you begged like a loser. That’s all.”
You roll your eyes, flopping back onto his pillows. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah, and you still come crawling back,” he fires back, tugging the shirt over his head. “Don’t forget who actually runs things around here.”
Despite his cocky bite, you catch the faint pink still lingering on his ears. He won’t admit it, but he hasn’t shaken the way you just wrecked him.
You grin at the ceiling, satisfied. “Sure, Matt. Whatever makes you sleep at night.”
His head snapped toward you at that, a scoff leaving his lips. “The fuck does that mean?”
You turned your face into his pillow, inhaling the faint smell of his cologne just to piss him off more. “Means I don’t buy it. You talk big, but…” you let your grin widen, “…you’re still the one blushing.”
“Blushing?” He barked out a laugh, incredulous. “Jesus Christ, you’re delusional.” He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, unlocking it with more force than necessary, like he needed something to focus on besides you.
“Uh-huh,” you sing-songed, stretching out like you owned the bed. “Totally delusional. That’s why you’re hiding behind your phone right now instead of looking at me.”
His jaw tightened, thumbs frozen above the screen before he finally tossed the phone back onto the nightstand with a sharp clatter.
“Y’know what? Go home.” His voice was flat, dismissive. “You got what you wanted, right? Congrats. Door’s that way.”
The shift in the air was immediate—your smugness fizzled out, leaving you blinking up at him. “What?”
“I’m not running a fucking sleepover. Don’t get comfortable.” He stood, already pulling the blanket off your legs like he was physically peeling you out of his space.
You sat up, frowning. “Seriously? You’re kicking me out?”
“Yeah. You’ve been real fuckin’ funny tonight, but I’m done.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the dresser with that infuriating smirk. “So unless you wanna start paying rent, get moving.”
You stared at him, throat tight with something you refused to name. “Matt…”
“Don’t ‘Matt’ me,” he snapped, though there was a twitch in his jaw, like he couldn’t quite keep steady under your gaze. “You knew what this was. We aren’t dating. We’re hooking up and thats all we’ll ever be. If—”
You cut him off, voice breaking before you even realized it. “I don’t care!” You spun on your heel and stormed toward the door, each step heavier than the last. Your chest ached, tears threatening to spill, but you kept moving. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. You couldn’t.
“Go home,” he called after you, his tone sharp, final.
Your hand froze on the doorknob. “I… I can’t,” you whispered, barely audible. Your voice cracked, and you dared to glance back at him. His arms were crossed, but there was something in the tilt of his head, the tight line of his mouth, that made you know he was just as unsettled.
“I… I just… can we… just cuddle?” you begged, voice trembling. “I don’t care about anything else. I don’t… I just…”
He shook his head, stepping closer, and the look in his eyes made your heart shatter. “No. Don’t,” he said, low and flat. “I can’t do that. You know why.”
“But I’m asking!” you cried, almost desperate now. “I just want… I just want—”
“Go home!” he snapped, and this time there was no softness in his voice, only finality. He stepped back, hands in his pockets, jaw tight, looking anywhere but at you.
You clutched the doorframe, sobbing silently, feeling him slip away without even touching you. You wanted to collapse into him, wanted the warmth, the soft reassurance… but instead, you were left with the emptiness of the room and the cruel echo of your own heart breaking.
You walked out anyway, tears streaming, shoulders shaking, knowing he wouldn’t stop you. And the worst part? You didn’t even care. You’d come back tomorrow. And the day after. Because no matter how much he hurt you, no matter how cruel he was, you couldn’t stop yourself from needing him. You were addicted.
a/n - well that was hot while it lasted..
trip to barry’s house!
you were really excited. rafe had told you about his new friend that he had met, he mentioned him a few times and you had nodded or hummed in response, not really paying much attention to his words.
your hands are clutching the pretty pink handbag rafe bought you for your birthday last year, filled to the brim with lipgloss and empty candy wrappers.
“you excited, sweetheart?” rafe asks you with a fond smile, his hand leaving the steering wheel to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your beaming smile becoming more apparent at his soft tone. “it’s only barry’s house, baby…”
you frown slightly when he says the last part, tearing your eyes away from the road and looking up at rafe’s blue eyes.
“but he’s your friend… i’m excited to meet your friend…”
“friend is a push, sweet girl…” he chuckles, shaking his head at your light tone. “you gotta learn that one conversation with people doesn’t make them your friend…”
the car comes to a stop in the run down driveway of barry’s gloomy trailer. your bright smile wavering slightly, yet the grin still pulls at your lips.
“you stay here, cutie…” he pinches your cheek softly before getting out of the truck. your eyes follow him as he saunters into the beat up home, his figure disappearing into the building.
you sigh and pick your phone up, scrolling through your social media, videos of bunnies and puppies keeping you occupied in the solitude of rafe’s car.
after around ten minutes you hear the sound of footsteps falling on the stones in barry’s front yard. your head shoots up, the huge smile covering your face again, hanging out of the window to see who it is.
rafe is walking towards the car with a shorter man, his hair is pulled back into a ponytail and his vest is dirty, but of course your opinion on him doesn’t change, he’s rafe’s friend after all.
“you’re right man, she is a doll…” barry’s voice fills your ears as they become closer. rafe chuckles and leans down to the window, giving your lips a small peck.
“that’s right… my little doll..” rafe reiterates, a smug tone ringing through his voice, “right, baby?” he tilts his head at you. a soft giggle slips from your lips as you nod your head.
“atta girl…” rafe coos and pushes some hair out of your face.
“pretty little thing…” barry murmurs, his arms crossing over his chest and a small smirk tugging at his lips as his eyes trace your features.
rafe’s fingers run through your hair as they both ogle at you, petting you like some dog hanging out the window.
there’s a beat of silence between you guys until rafe’s hands drop from your head and he clears his throat.
“kay man, thanks for your shit… we got somewhere we need to be.” rafe speaks up, rounding the front of his truck and getting in the drivers side.
he rolls up your window, as if blocking barry’s view from you as he backs out of the overgrown driveway. you give a small wave nevertheless.
“you’re too damn sweet, kid…” rafe scoffs softly with a shake of his head, a smile adorning his face as he watches your innocent gestures.
an- i’m back from the dead with a shitty fic for yall!!!
⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙣! 𝙢.𝙨.
summary: you wake up, forgetting it's the first day of your boyfriends favourite season.
warnings: none, just fluff!
you don't remember what time you fell asleep, or even if you had gotten to bed. all you knew was that your boyfriends voice was in your ear, interrupting the best sleep you've gotten in weeks.
"hey, hey, wake up.!" he whisper yelled into your ear. you groaned in response, turning your face into the pillows.
"what, matt?.." you asked quietly in response, wanting nothing more but to go back to bed.
"today's a big day," he told you vaguely, running his fingers through the soft strands of your hair.
"mhm," you hummed in agreement, though you had no idea what he was talking about. "yeah, very big day.." you mumbled quietly.
matt was quiet as he listened to you, his smile faltering slightly. his eyes then narrowed at you, though you couldn't see it.
"you don't even know what i'm talking about," he commented, patting your shoulder a few times. "if only there was somebody to listen to me.." he mumbled sarcastically, sitting back against the headboard.
hearing that made you sigh. you pried your eyes open, your hands slowly reaching up to rub them.
"what day is it, matt, hm?" you finally asked as you mainly focused on sitting up.
"oh, come on," he smiled, watching you in your half asleep nature, "guess." he told you teasingly.
"September 26th," you muttered, running a hand through your sleep ridden hair.
"yep," the boy nodded, his light blue eyes admiring you as you slowly woke up more and more, "and what does that mean?" he pushed.
your brows furrowed in thought as you heard his question. had you missed an important date? was it your anniversar-? no, that was in november. what the hell was he talking about.
"first day of fall," he whispered excitedly.
your eyes widened at the mention of the start of his favourite season.
"right," you mumbled in response. "so, uh," you trailed off, waiting for him to at least elaborate on what else he meant.
"so, that means we can do everything we've been planning," he cut you off, "carve pumpkins, decorate, make cookies, dress up for halloween—"
"okay, slow down," you told him, a small smile on your face. "what time is it, anyway?.." you asked, tilting your head slightly.
"8:36," he told you.
"yeah, we have all day to talk about this.." you said in response, laying back down to get more sleep.
billie's afterword - this is so cute but i wanted to keep it short :)
this lil pic right here
shot by Nan Goldin
I cringe when I read your posts
read this person's post they aren't cringey!
@i dont give a fuck what you think hoe
SUCH A SHAME - matt sturniolo
warnings; this is a CHEATING FIC. i do not condone cheating, this is just fiction. p in v (unprotected), nicknames - (baby, sweetheart, big girl, smart girl.), spitting in mouth, drunk sex, grinding against each other, use of y/n, i think thats all??
creds to anyone who has done cheating fics before!!!
3,162 wc.
it was a constant routine between you and chris. you guys argue, mean words being thrown back and forth, you two have makeup sex, and you move on without another word about what you guys were actually arguing about and never actually fixing the problem.
one night after an argument, you had enough and grabbed a couple of club clothes— ignoring the yells being thrown at you from chris, and walking past him, storming off to your car outside of his apartment.
it was around 9:30 already, and you started driving to a nearby bar you’ve been going to for a while. sometimes you, and chris and his brothers would go out and have a great time. but tonight, it was just you.
you pull out your phone as you stop at a red light and text chris’s brother. matt.
if u guys don’t like this fic i might cry this took SO long
this is amazing how does have it have so lil notes 💔
“who the hell are you?”
meanmatt! x partygirl!reader — part 1
2,
⸻
You didn’t even want to go to this party.
But your friends begged. Promised it’d be fun. Said he wouldn’t be there. And even if he was, you’d never notice him anyway.
Except now you’re here, the music’s too loud, the floor’s sticky, and some guy just spilled half a beer on your shoes. You’re annoyed, overstimulated, and completely sober — the worst combination possible.
So you do what you always do: fake a smile, throw back something fruity and dangerous, and find a quiet corner to claim as your own. Tonight it’s the back porch — dimly lit, mostly empty, with a half-dead string of fairy lights barely hanging on.
You sit on the rickety bench and let out a slow exhale, pulling your hoodie tighter around your shoulders. It’s peaceful for maybe three minutes.
Then:
“What the hell are you doing?”
You glance up.
He’s standing there with a plastic cup and a permanent scowl — tall, broad, and dressed like he didn’t try (which, annoyingly, works for him). You’ve never officially met, but you recognize him. Matt Sturniolo. One of the hosts, apparently. Notorious for hating everyone, especially girls like you — loud, sparkly, and “too much.”
You blink slowly. “Sitting?”
“That’s my spot.”
You laugh. “Are you serious?”
Matt doesn’t smile. “Dead serious.”
“You’ve got the whole house and backyard full of drunk people,” you say. “And you’re pressed about this bench?”
“It’s mine.”
You scoff. “Didn’t see your name on it.”
Matt glares. “Don’t care. Move.”
You raise a brow. “Make me.”
He stares at you like he’s deciding whether it’s worth dragging you off the bench or just setting the whole party on fire and starting over.
“Why are you even here?” he mutters, running a hand over his face like your presence is giving him a migraine.
“I was invited.”
“By who? Satan?”
You blink. “Damn. That’s the energy we’re on tonight?”
“I don’t like people who come to these things just to cause problems.”
“I don’t like people who act like the world revolves around their stupid bench.”
Matt glares again, and you glare right back.
It’s a full ten seconds of quiet, hostile eye contact before he mutters, “Whatever,” and sits down on the other side of the bench, as far from you as possible.
You smirk. Victory.
Kind of.
⸻
Five minutes pass. Then ten. You both sit in tense silence, the only sound the thump of bass from inside and the occasional shout of someone getting too drunk.
Finally, you break it.
“You always this charming, or is it just me?”
Matt doesn’t look at you. “Just you.”
You hum. “Lucky me.”
Another silence.
You sip your drink. “You don’t like me.”
“I don’t even know you,” he snaps.
“Didn’t stop you from being a dick.”
He turns to face you now, jaw tight. “You walk into someone else’s house, throw your attitude around, and expect people to kiss the ground you glittered on?”
You blink. “Wow. You really hate fun, huh?”
Matt shrugs. “Fun doesn’t usually involve fake smiles, tequila breath, and girls taking selfies in my bathroom.”
“You sound fun at parties.”
“I’m not.”
You laugh again, even though your stomach twists. He’s mean — like, unnecessarily mean — but you’ve dealt with worse. Guys who pretended to like you. Guys who pretended to listen. Matt? He doesn’t pretend.
And that pisses you off more than anything.
“You must be such a hit with the ladies,” you say, voice sugar-sweet. “Do they all fall at your feet after you call them annoying and chase them off benches?”
He leans back, finally sipping his drink. “Most of them don’t talk back.”
“Maybe they’re smart.”
“Maybe you’re not.”
You grin. “You’re just mad I’m not scared of you.”
“I’m not trying to scare you.”
“Then what are you trying to do?”
Another beat of silence. Matt doesn’t answer.
You both sit with it — the tension, the unspoken, the push-pull of two people who are either about to kiss or throw each other off the porch.
You swallow hard. “You know, you don’t actually know me. So maybe get off your high horse before you break something.”
Matt’s eyes flicker toward you. “You come off like someone who wants attention. You dress loud. You talk louder. You walk in like it’s your world and everyone’s just lucky to exist in it.”
“And you hate that?”
“I think it’s fake.”
You go quiet. That one stings — not because it’s new, but because it’s familiar.
Matt watches your expression shift. Regret flickers across his face for a half-second before he masks it with his usual scowl.
You stand up. “You don’t know me,” you repeat, quieter this time.
He doesn’t say anything.
You walk away.
⸻
You don’t expect to see him again that night, and you don’t want to.
But two hours later, you’re in the kitchen, sipping something someone shoved in your hand, when you feel someone watching you. You turn. It’s Matt. Across the room. Arms crossed, unreadable expression, eyes locked on you.
He doesn’t look away.
You roll your eyes and head outside.
You sit on the front step this time. Different porch. Same night.
You let the cool air hit your skin. It’s too much — the noise, the heat, the way Matt made you feel like every layer of yourself was see-through and stupid. You hate that he got to you. You hate that he was right about some of it.
You’re still trying to catch your breath when the door creaks open again.
Matt.
Of course.
He sits down a few feet away, but not too far. Enough to give you space, but not let you disappear.
“Didn’t expect to see you again,” you mutter.
“I live here.”
“Tragic.”
Another pause. You don’t look at him. He doesn’t look away.
Finally, he says, “I was kind of an asshole earlier.”
You scoff. “Kind of?”
Matt exhales. “I just— I don’t like parties. I don’t like pretending.”
“I wasn’t pretending.”
“I thought you were.”
“Well, you thought wrong.”
Silence again. Softer this time.
“I still think you’re a lot,” he adds, like he can’t help himself.
You smile bitterly. “I am.”
“It’s not always a bad thing.”
You glance over. He’s already looking at you. Not glaring. Just… looking.
You sigh, pulling your knees to your chest. “I don’t do fake either, Matt. This is just me.”
He nods slowly. “I noticed.”
Another beat.
“You still hate me?” you ask, half-joking.
He doesn’t smile. “Don’t know you yet.”
“Still sounds like a yes.”
Matt shrugs. “You make things complicated.”
You grin. “You make things boring.”
He looks away, but his mouth twitches — the smallest hint of a smirk.
You lean back against the railing, finally starting to relax again.
Maybe you still don’t like him.
But he’s not pretending.
And neither are you.
⸻
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how about a rock on my finger?
a part of you remembers a time when chris told his brothers— nate included,— and their whole platform that he would simply not cry during his wedding, and that he didn’t understand the hype in general.
but now, standing face to face with that same man, it’s seems he was a total liar.
you look at him in awe as the lights twinkled around you two, family and friends surrounding the floor that the two of you stood on. iris by the goo goo dolls hummed through the speakers in varying spots around the room— successfully submersing you in the moment.
your arms were hooked around his neck while his hands rested gently on your waist, but he still somehow managed to make you feel like you’d never be let go despite his soft mannerism.
swaying in unison as everyone’s attention was focused solely on you guys, you watch chris’ eyes fill with love and devotion. his suit jacket was long forgotten— laying on the backrest of his chair, which left him in his half-unbuttoned button up and black tie. you saw the way his eyes periodically shifted to your white dress, flowing gracefully across the floor.
“im so in love with you…” you hear him whisper faintly in your ear. what you’re not certain if you heard, however, was the tiny sniffle that came with it.
you maneuver your head to catch the small glint on his cheek, rolling like a delicate raindrop. the corners of your lips twist into a smile— but not in the teasing way, in the most purest, tender, intimate way.
“you big baby,” you coo, your own eyes filling with tears of love. he smiles back, rubbing your lower back with his hands.
“if i had all this to do over again… i’d find my way back to you, over and over baby, i promise.” he professed, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.
a small pout of warmth spread on your face, causing you to bury your face in the crook of his neck. his hand came up to rest on the back of your head, caressing it gently.
“im just so happy its you.” the whisper came out of your mouth as you lifted your head once more, reaching a hand up to brush a salty tear that tried to escape from his cheek. you shook the dot of runny sodium off your finger before placing a gentle kiss where the tear previously stood.
you swayed slowly as the world seemingly condensed down to just the two of them, but that’s all that mattered anyway.
a/n — work song started playing while writing this and now im lowk crying? anywho ! is this ass? idk
warnings: smut smut smut. spit, arguing in the beginning, car sex, BEARD, p n v (unprotected), oral (f receiving), bulge in your tummy idk, matt is pussy drunk
matt and you were in the car. your legs bounced up and down annoyed. "ma you can't be serious" matt said his eyes rolling back.
"i am serious! seriously i don't get why you were talking to her" you spat your voice raised in a way matt was my expecting. "lower your voice y/n." he spoke his head turning to yours ,giving you a warning look.
"fucking dumbass" you muttered under your breath. matt suddenly took a sharp turn pulling the car into a parking lot.
"you wanna say that again?" matt said his expression filled with anger "you are acting like a child y/n." he continued.
"i don't care you wanna talk to other girls fine go ahead. i don't care" you said though you didn't mean anything that just came out your mouth.
"oh so now we are lying? that's cute baby" matt said a low chuckle leaving his mouth. he lifted his hand to scratch his beard. "whatcha staring at mama?" matt teased his tongue pushing through his cheek.
you rolled your eyes trying to ignore the ache inbetween your thighs. matt stared at you "get in the back" he said suddenly. "no" you said stubbornly you were not letting him win.
"oh for real?" he said his voice laced with warning. "alright then" matt said leaving the driver's seat and walking around the car to open the passenger seat. he grabbed you by the waist pulling you out the car as he opened the back seat door and pushed you in.
"matt nooo" you said though you found him surprisingly hot. "tell me to stop" matt said his beard scratching your neck as he kissed and sucked your neck.
a low shaky whine escaped your lips. "what i thought" he said unbuckling your shorts. he tapped your thigh so you would lift your hips. he pulled your shorts off easily revealing your damp panties.
"this all f'me mama?" he said pulling your shirt off too. you nodded staring up at him. "fuck you're gorgeous" he grunted. he rubbed your pussy through your panties.
"oh! f-fuck" you said your head falling back. matt lowered himself so he could be face level to your wet slick.
his head dipped into your pussy. he pulled your panties to the side. his beard rubbed against your thighs causing a delicious burn.
"oh please don't stop" you whined repeatedly. matt ran his tongue through your folds. he groaned when you clenched around nothing. he loved having you like this all whiny, all his.
he slowly brought his hand to rub your clit as he fucked you with his tummy. slurping noises were the only thing heard apart from your loud moans and whines.
as he felt you reaching your high as he quickened his pace. "matt!" you said. tears falling from your face. pants and cries escaped your mouth.
"shhh" he said pussy drunk. he continued his fast pace. his beard scratching against you in a slightly painful way. "come! c-come" you said as you came over him. he placed light kisses to your pussy pulling away.
you stared at his beard drenched with your come. he crawled back on top of you pulling his sweats off. "yeah you liked that huh baby?" he whispered softly. you nodded softly.
"can i? please baby" you said pointing to his beard. "go ahead baby it's all yours" he said. you softly licked his beard tasting yourself.
he groaned pulling his boxers down as he softly swiped himself up and down your pussy. as you pulled yourself off his beard. he sat up spitting on his cock.
he entered you softly yet brutal. your hands were above your head as matt interlaced his fingers with yours. he set a fast and brutal pace on you.
clap. clap. clap. "yes yes fuckk" you moaned. "kiss me please please matt" you begged. matt nodded quickly pushing your lips together. it was messy filled with lust.
his tongue danced with yours as he didn't stop his rough movements. your back arched off the car seats. one of matt's hands went to rub your clit.
"come on baby. know you want to" he said into your ear his voice hoarse. your eyes rolled to the back of your head. the band inside your lower tummy growing tighter.
matt needed you to come. he pulled his hand off your clit and pushed the light bulge in your lower stomach. "holy s-shit!" you moaned "don't stop oh my god don't stop" you said biting your lip.
"come! come" you whimpered. matt stared at your face as you came. he followed right after you. he pulled out staring at your pussy as his and your come seeped out.
"look at her. so full"'
©xoxbunni
a/n. idk what got into me. this is the longest thing ive written. PLEASE DONT FLOP
join my taglist! ♪
𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃
$10.99 $6.99
tags: @courta13 @mattssidepiece @chrizfavlilslut
warnings: smut smut smut. spit, arguing in the beginning, car sex, BEARD, p n v (unprotected), oral (f receiving), bulge in your tummy idk, matt is pussy drunk
matt and you were in the car. your legs bounced up and down annoyed. "ma you can't be serious" matt said his eyes rolling back.
"i am serious! seriously i don't get why you were talking to her" you spat your voice raised in a way matt was my expecting. "lower your voice y/n." he spoke his head turning to yours ,giving you a warning look.
"fucking dumbass" you muttered under your breath. matt suddenly took a sharp turn pulling the car into a parking lot.
"you wanna say that again?" matt said his expression filled with anger "you are acting like a child y/n." he continued.
"i don't care you wanna talk to other girls fine go ahead. i don't care" you said though you didn't mean anything that just came out your mouth.
"oh so now we are lying? that's cute baby" matt said a low chuckle leaving his mouth. he lifted his hand to scratch his beard. "whatcha staring at mama?" matt teased his tongue pushing through his cheek.
you rolled your eyes trying to ignore the ache inbetween your thighs. matt stared at you "get in the back" he said suddenly. "no" you said stubbornly you were not letting him win.
"oh for real?" he said his voice laced with warning. "alright then" matt said leaving the driver's seat and walking around the car to open the passenger seat. he grabbed you by the waist pulling you out the car as he opened the back seat door and pushed you in.
"matt nooo" you said though you found him surprisingly hot. "tell me to stop" matt said his beard scratching your neck as he kissed and sucked your neck.
a low shaky whine escaped your lips. "what i thought" he said unbuckling your shorts. he tapped your thigh so you would lift your hips. he pulled your shorts off easily revealing your damp panties.
"this all f'me mama?" he said pulling your shirt off too. you nodded staring up at him. "fuck you're gorgeous" he grunted. he rubbed your pussy through your panties.
"oh! f-fuck" you said your head falling back. matt lowered himself so he could be face level to your wet slick.
his head dipped into your pussy. he pulled your panties to the side. his beard rubbed against your thighs causing a delicious burn.
"oh please don't stop" you whined repeatedly. matt ran his tongue through your folds. he groaned when you clenched around nothing. he loved having you like this all whiny, all his.
he slowly brought his hand to rub your clit as he fucked you with his tummy. slurping noises were the only thing heard apart from your loud moans and whines.
as he felt you reaching your high as he quickened his pace. "matt!" you said. tears falling from your face. pants and cries escaped your mouth.
"shhh" he said pussy drunk. he continued his fast pace. his beard scratching against you in a slightly painful way. "come! c-come" you said as you came over him. he placed light kisses to your pussy pulling away.
you stared at his beard drenched with your come. he crawled back on top of you pulling his sweats off. "yeah you liked that huh baby?" he whispered softly. you nodded softly.
"can i? please baby" you said pointing to his beard. "go ahead baby it's all yours" he said. you softly licked his beard tasting yourself.
he groaned pulling his boxers down as he softly swiped himself up and down your pussy. as you pulled yourself off his beard. he sat up spitting on his cock.
he entered you softly yet brutal. your hands were above your head as matt interlaced his fingers with yours. he set a fast and brutal pace on you.
clap. clap. clap. "yes yes fuckk" you moaned. "kiss me please please matt" you begged. matt nodded quickly pushing your lips together. it was messy filled with lust.
his tongue danced with yours as he didn't stop his rough movements. your back arched off the car seats. one of matt's hands went to rub your clit.
"come on baby. know you want to" he said into your ear his voice hoarse. your eyes rolled to the back of your head. the band inside your lower tummy growing tighter.
matt needed you to come. he pulled his hand off your clit and pushed the light bulge in your lower stomach. "holy s-shit!" you moaned "don't stop oh my god don't stop" you said biting your lip.
"come! come" you whimpered. matt stared at your face as you came. he followed right after you. he pulled out staring at your pussy as his and your come seeped out.
"look at her. so full"'
©xoxbunni
a/n. idk what got into me. this is the longest thing ive written. PLEASE DONT FLOP
join my taglist! ♪
𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃
$10.99 $6.99
SAY PLEASE 说请
WARNINGS: SMUT. LIGHT DEGRADATION. PRAISE KINK. BEGGING. POWER PLAY. FINGERING. ORAL (F). FACE SITTING. OVERSTIMULATION. CREAMPIE. MDNI.
you knew better than to expect chris to make things easy.
he never did. not when it came to this—when it came to you. especially not when he had you spread out like this, back against the cool sheets of his bed, knees parted, and that lazy smirk crawling across his face as he knelt between your thighs. eyes dark with intent, head tilted just enough to be condescending, like he already knew what you were going to ask for before the words even dared to leave your mouth.
"what's that face for?" he murmured, thumbing over the waistband of your panties. "y'wan' somethin'?"
you were already flushed, breath catching with the tension of it all—his stare, his fingers, the way he'd been trailing his mouth along your inner thigh for minutes, teasing. he hadn't touched you where you needed it. not once. not even close.
"y'know what i want," you breathed.
chris smiled, slow and cruel and hot. "nah. i don't think i do."
he ducked his head again, kissed a spot too high on your thigh, just near the crease of your hip, letting his teeth scrape gently. his hands were firm on your thighs, thumbs digging into the soft parts, keeping you open, keeping you exposed.
you whined—soft, needy—and chris chuckled, nose brushing along the edge of your underwear.
"what was that?" he asked, voice dripping smug. "that a sound or a word, pretty girl? 'cause if y'wan' me to do somethin'..." his eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and amused. "you're gonna have t'say please."
you swallowed, head falling back against the pillows. he'd said that before, half-joking, usually after you teased him first. but this time—this time he meant it. really meant it. he wasn't going to give in. not unless you begged.
and you knew he could wait. he could wait forever.
"chris," you breathed, hips shifting slightly, trying to press closer to him, but he didn't let you. his hands kept you still.
"that's not please," he said, sing-song. "i could do this all night, y'know. jus' sit here. maybe watch you squirm a lil' more."
he leaned down, pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your pussy over the fabric, warm breath making you twitch. but that was it. nothing more. no pressure. no tongue. just the idea of him.
"fuck, you're mean," you muttered, voice tight.
"mhm." he grinned, kissing you again, lower this time. "but y'like it. 'cause if y'really didn't, you'd tell me to stop.”
you didn't. you couldn't. because your head was spinning with how badly you needed him, how wet you already were just from the way he was looking at you—how he could ruin you without even trying.
his fingers toyed with the hem of your panties, tugging them gently, dragging them down achingly slow. he didn't even look away while he did it, gaze locked on your face, watching every reaction. every twitch, every inhale, every flicker of anticipation.
he dropped them onto the floor and groaned, real quiet. "fuck. look at that."
his thumb traced along your inner lips, feather-light, just enough to make your thighs tense. he didn't push in, didn't go where you wanted him. he was everywhere but there.
"chris, please—"
he paused.
but only for a second.
"mm, nope. not good enough."
his tone was almost playful. like he was testing you. like he wanted to see how far you'd go.
"y'gotta mean it, baby," he said softly, dragging his fingers up and spreading you a little wider. "say it like y'really fuckin' need me."
you wanted to curse at him. you wanted to slap that smug look off his face. but more than that, you wanted his mouth. his fingers. anything he'd give you.
so you gave in, just a little.
"please," you whispered, arching your hips. "please touch me, chris."
his eyes flicked down, then up again, expression shifting—darker now. hungrier.
"that's more like it."
and then, finally, finally, he leaned in.
his tongue slid between your folds, slow and heavy, licking all the way up before circling your clit with the barest touch. your back arched, a sharp breath tearing from your throat, and chris moaned softly, like he was the one getting touched.
"shit—baby, fuuckk," he breathed against you, mouth already wet and slick with you. "y'taste so fuckin' good."
he licked again, deeper this time, tongue slipping down to your entrance, teasing it, dipping in and then pulling back just to suck your clit into his mouth hard and fast, tongue flicking until your legs trembled around his head.
"keep 'em open," he warned, one hand wrapping around your thigh to hold it in place when you started to close around him. "told you, ya' not gettin' anything unless you beg for it."
"chris," you gasped, hips jerking up. "please, don't stop—please, i need more."
he groaned against your pussy, tongue fucking into you again, slower this time, but deep. the hand on your thigh moved, his middle finger circling your entrance, slick already from his mouth.
"y'that desperate for it?" he muttered, fingers teasing the edge but not pressing in yet. "need me to stretch you out, huh?"
you nodded, breathless, grabbing the sheets beside you.
"use your words."
"yes. yes, please. chris, fuck, i need your fingers—please."
he smiled against your cunt and finally gave you what you wanted.
one finger slid in first, slow and purposeful, curling up until it hit just the right spot. you cried out, clenching around him, and he moaned again, watching the way you reacted like it was his favorite show.
"tight as fuck," he muttered, pushing in a second finger. "goddamn."
you couldn't even think straight. his fingers moved expertly, scissoring just enough to make you twitch, knuckles brushing your walls with each drag. and his mouth—fuck, his mouth never stopped. tongue on your clit, sucking, licking, pressing down until your stomach clenched.
"y'close already?" he teased. "jus' from my fingers?"
you nodded again, whining, hips grinding down onto his hand.
"mm-mm," he said, pulling his mouth back slightly. "y'wanna cum, y'gotta beg again."
you almost sobbed. your body was already right there—your thighs shaking, your hands clawing at the sheets—but he was cruel. relentless.
"please," you whispered, almost crying. "please let me cum. chris, please, i'll do anything."
his eyes rolled back, breath catching.
"shit. that's what i like to hear."
he leaned in and sucked your clit hard, fingers speeding up, and that was it.
you came like a wave crashing over everything, loud and hot and pulsing around his fingers. he didn't stop. not even as you shook, not even when you whimpered his name like a prayer, overstimulated and shaking. he just kept going, licking you through it like he couldn't get enough, like he was starving for it.
"good girl," he murmured, finally pulling his mouth away. "so fuckin' pretty when y'fall apart."
you were still gasping, still twitching slightly, and before you could recover, he sat up and grabbed your hips.
"c'mere."
you blinked, dazed, barely registering as he tugged you up until you were straddling his face.
"chris—"
"sit," he growled, hands gripping your ass, forcing you to lower onto him. "m'not done with you yet."
your knees shook, thighs already sore, but you obeyed, slowly sinking down until your cunt was against his mouth again.
he groaned like it was heaven.
he started eating you out like he hadn't just made you cum thirty seconds ago. messy. loud. tongue fucking into you while his nose bumped your clit with every movement.
you tried to lift yourself, overwhelmed, but his grip on your thighs was firm.
"uh-uh," he said, mouth full. "stay. sit on my face like the good fuckin' girl you are."
you moaned, fingers tangling in his hair as he dragged another orgasm out of you, rough and fast. you couldn't even process the pleasure—just shaking, crying out, grinding down against his tongue because you couldn't stop yourself.
when he finally pulled back, lips slick, chin wet, he looked ruined. in the best way.
"mhm. look at you," he panted, staring up at you like he was addicted. "drippin' all over me. fuck."
you barely had the strength to move, but chris wasn't done yet.
he flipped you back onto the bed and kissed you hard—hot, possessive, tongue sliding into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself.
"need t'fuck you," he said into your mouth, hands already unzipping his jeans. "gonna stretch you out so good, baby."
"please," you whimpered, already aching. "need it. need you."
he growled, guiding himself to your entrance and pushing in slow.
"fuck—so wet. all from beggin' f'me, huh?"
you gasped, arching into him, legs wrapping around his waist.
he started fucking you hard—deep, sharp thrusts that made your eyes roll back. his hand slid under your thigh, lifting it higher to get deeper, and you cried out, clutching at his arms.
"chris—fuck—so good—"
"yeah?" he gritted, fucking you harder. "say it again."
"so good," you sobbed. "feels so good, chris—please, don't stop."
he didn't. he just pounded into you, pushing you right to the edge again, murmuring filth into your ear.
"look at you. all dumb for my dick. think ya' earned it now, beggin' so pretty f'me?"
you nodded, body breaking open under him.
"cum f'me," he said, voice ragged. "wan' feel you squeeze me again."
you shattered around him, loud and raw and messy. and chris followed with a deep groan, burying himself inside you as he came, holding you close like he never wanted to let go.
and when it was done—when you were both breathless and wrecked—he kissed your shoulder, smug smile creeping back onto his lips.
"see?" he whispered, brushing his nose against your neck. "all y'had to do was say please."
author's note. love love love this.
taglist. @sugarraez @eyesonmattyb ꒱ ₊˚⊹ .ᐟ
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𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . . 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐋 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓
in which . . . matt sits pretty in a chair and makes you strip, crawl, and take it slow, deep and filthy. you moan around his fingers while he fucks you dumb and full.
The room smells like sex and warm skin, lit low by the honeyed flicker of a bedside lamp. Shadows stretch long over the wood floors, soft jazz humming in the background like it knows what’s about to happen.
Matt sits in that worn leather chair like he owns the whole damn world—legs spread, shirt unbuttoned halfway, chest golden and dusted with soft hair. His forearms flex where they rest over the armrests, tattoo ink peeking under rolled-up sleeves, fingers tapping slow against the leather.
His eyes are molten when they meet yours, like dusk and danger all wrapped up in one man. You stand across from him, nothing but a trembling thing in the quiet. ❝Strip,❞ he says. Voice low. Velvet and smoke. ❝And crawl to me.❞ It’s not a threat. It’s a gift. A prayer. A filthy promise that makes your thighs press tight.
Your hands shake as you pull your top over your head, slow and sweet like he likes it. He watches your silhouette stretch in the dim light, his jaw twitching, cock visibly hard in his jeans. Every button undone, every inch of skin revealed, makes him hungrier. Like he’s starving. Like he’s going to eat you alive.
You slide your panties down your legs and step out of them, and you swear you hear his breath catch. ❝You’re shaking already,❞ he murmurs, gaze locked on your soaked cunt, lips twitching. ❝And I haven’t even touched you.❞ You drop to your knees.
The hardwood is cold, and your skin burns. You crawl toward him slowly, heat flooding your belly, every breath harder to take. Your nipples are tight, aching from the air and the way he stares at you like he could ruin you with just his eyes. By the time you reach him, your chest is heaving, your clit fluttering like it can’t bear to wait. You rest your hands on his thighs, look up at him with parted lips, and he cups your chin in his big hand. Makes you look at him.
❝There she is,❞ he hums, thumb brushing your lip. ❝My sweet little fucktoy.❞ He makes you sit there. Wait. Moan. His hands trace every part of you but the one you need most. Neck, tits, hips—his fingers ghost over your skin like it’s delicate silk.
Your clit is aching. His name keeps falling out of your mouth in soft, lewd little sounds that make him smile like the devil. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your throat, your breasts, and the dip of your belly until you’re a mess in his lap—trembling, desperate, dripping.
Then, finally, he drags you up into his lap like you weigh nothing. Kisses you hard. Groans into your mouth when he feels how wet you are. Then came the clink of his belt, slow and deliberate, metal sliding through the loops like a warning. Your eyes followed the sound, breath catching as he tugged it free and let it drop with a dull thud.
Matt's cock is already dripping, flushed an angry red at the tip, thick with precum. He doesn't stroke it. He doesn't need to. Just the sight of you like that—naked and needy and on your knees—has him rock-hard, throbbing with restraint.
And then you're in his lap, split open around him, legs trembling as he thrusts up slow but brutal. His palm presses into the curve of your back, holding you in place while his other hand finds your mouth, two fingers slipping past your lips like it's the most natural thing in the world.
You moan around them, tongue swirling, eyes glassy. His voice is low, thick with arousal. ❝That's it. Open wide, baby. Gotta keep you quiet while I fuck that little cunt dumb.❞
He shifts, dragging himself out just enough to thrust back in with obscene slickness. The stretch punches the air from your lungs. You can feel the way your pussy clenches, fluttering around him, dripping down his shaft with every punishing roll of his hips.
You're a mess. Lewd moans spill from you even with his fingers in your mouth. Every time he fucks in, it's to the hilt, balls-deep, cockhead brushing that spongey, devastating spot so hard you're seeing stars. ❝Mmph—Matt!❞ you sob, forehead pressed into his shoulder, nails clawing at his arms. ❝So deep—oh my god, so fucking deep.❞ He grunts, sweat slicking his chest as he pounds up into you with more force, bruising grip locking you in place.
❝You feel that, baby? That’s how much this cunt needs me. Clenching like she never wants to let go.❞ Your walls ache around him, stretched and fluttering with every thick stroke. And when you cum, it hits like a freight train, legs locking, body seizing, a broken cry muffled by his fingers. Your pussy pulses around him, greedy and wet and desperate.
Matt growls, and then he's burying himself deep, cock twitching inside you as hot, thick ropes of cum flood your aching cunt. He doesn't stop. Keeps grinding into you, shallow and slow, like he wants to brand the shape of him inside you. You're limp and soaked, clinging to him with soft whimpers, breath hot against his skin. His hand brushes your jaw, dragging his fingers from your lips, glistening and spit-slick.
He kisses you, deep and lazy. ❝Still with me?❞ Barely. But you nod, dizzy, used, and full. Just how he likes you.
𝐋𝐎𝐋𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐒 . . . yum !!!! it's been too long
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 . . . @chrepsi @ph3ebssturniolo @sturnsxbbyeilish @j21l91 @pip4444chris @mattslutt @sophand4n4 @mattscoquette
⌗ © sturniphone
SUCKING DJ!CHRIS OFF UNDER THE TABLE.
𓂅 ˖ WARNINGS: public sex, blowjob under the table, chris trying so hard to stay quiet, dom/sub undertones, praise, overstimulation, messy, tension-filled, semi-public sex, sneaking away from the crowd, rough desperate backroom makeout, finger-fucking, dom!chris, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, possessive energy, praise + a little degradation
you don’t mean to be bad.
you really don’t.
you just have a little problem with patience. especially when it comes to chris.
especially when he’s up there—doing what he does—headphones around his neck, sleeves pushed up, curls damp with sweat and neck flushed pink from the heat of the crowd, the lights, the way he just owns it all. like it’s his. like the music bends for him.
he’s not even looking at you.
and maybe that’s the problem.
you’re sitting at one of the booths just off to the side of the dj table. tucked into the dark, low leather and glowing in purple strobe, surrounded by half-empty drinks and your friends who are too deep in their own drama to notice the way your legs keep crossing and uncrossing under the table. you’re wearing something short. maybe too short. but you did that for him. and he hasn’t looked at you once since he started spinning.
he’s focused. disciplined. professional.
and it’s driving you fucking insane.
so you get up. act casual. wander toward the booth like you’re just passing by. like you’re gonna ask for a song request or maybe flirt for fun.
but when you reach the side of the table, you just duck your head, glance around once, and drop to your knees.
he doesn’t see you at first.
he’s adjusting a knob, back half-turned to the table. you slide underneath with your heart in your throat, hands shaking a little—not with nerves, just anticipation—and settle on your knees between the low wooden panel and his chair.
his legs are spread.
and when he finally turns and spots you down there, his whole body jolts.
you smile up at him, innocent. he mouths what the fuck are you doing without saying it out loud, but he doesn’t push you away. doesn’t make you stop.
just grips the edge of the table like his life depends on it.
you press your palms to his thighs. lean in slowly. tease the seam of his jeans with your fingers until you feel him twitching beneath the denim. he’s already hard. already throbbing, really, like he’s been thinking about this all night without even meaning to.
you look up once—just to see the expression on his face—and it’s fucking priceless.
he’s panicking. and failing to hide it.
his eyes are wide, his jaw clenched, and he won’t look directly down at you, like that would be too dangerous. but his hips shift forward just a little. and that’s all the permission you need.
you unzip him slowly. carefully.
and he hisses—barely audible over the bass that shakes the booth—but it’s enough to make your thighs clench.
his cock springs free, flushed and heavy and leaking, and you take a moment just to look. just to appreciate. he’s not even trying to hide how hard he is now. one twitch away from fucking your mouth open with no shame.
you lick a slow stripe up the underside. tease the head with your tongue, just soft and wet and deliberate. his hand snaps to the table again.
you smile. suck him in slow.
he chokes.
not loud. not enough for anyone to hear. but it’s enough to make his legs tense under your hands, enough to make his whole body go stiff like he’s either gonna come or die.
you start bobbing your head. not too fast. just enough. and he takes it. takes all of it.
you glance up again and his eyes are shut, lips parted, head tilted just slightly like he’s trying to stay inside his body. like he’s trying so hard to focus on the music and the knobs and the fucking playlist but all he can feel is your mouth around him, slick and warm and dangerous.
you pull off with a pop. jerk him slow with one hand. kiss the tip and whisper, “you’re doing so good, baby.”
his chest jerks.
he’s about to fall apart. you can see it. feel it in the way he pulses in your hand, taste it in the way he leaks all over your tongue like he’s seconds away from losing every last ounce of control.
you go back down, suck him deep and tight and fast this time.
and he breaks.
his hips lift—just barely, just enough to make you moan—and he grips the table so hard you swear it creaks. someone calls his name from the crowd and he flinches like he’s been shot. mutters a choked “one sec” without even turning around.
you hollow your cheeks. take him to the back of your throat and swallow.
he comes with a gasp that he barely contains. just a soft, ragged breath that catches in his chest and melts into a groan that he bites down into his sleeve. you feel him spill across your tongue, hot and salty and a little messy. and he just sits there—body tight, chest heaving, fingers trembling against the table like he might short-circuit completely.
you don’t stop right away.
you lick him clean, soft and slow, drag your tongue over the tip like you’re proud of yourself—and fuck, you are—then tuck him gently back into his jeans.
you crawl out just as he finally dares to look down.
your lip gloss is smudged. your knees are red. your eyes are shining like you know what you just did.
you wink at him once—sweet, shameless—and turn back toward the dance floor.
he watches you walk away with his mouth open and his life in ruins.
you’re halfway back to the booth when you feel it.
his stare.
burning into the back of your neck like heat from a live wire. it doesn’t matter how loud the bass is, how thick the crowd’s gotten—chris is tracking you like you’re the only thing moving. like you’ve lit him up from the inside and now he can’t not follow.
you don’t even make it to the booth before he grabs you.
not rough. not loud. just firm fingers curling around your wrist as you slip past the edge of the booth, dragging you straight toward the curtain behind his setup.
“come here.”
low voice. flushed cheeks. jaw tight.
he doesn’t ask.
just pulls you through like it’s instinct. like his body made the decision before his brain caught up. the second you’re alone—back behind the velvet curtain and tucked in the tiny, hazy hallway leading to the sound booth door—he spins you around and kisses you like a threat.
like you’ve ruined his night. or saved it. he hasn’t decided which.
his mouth is everywhere. your cheek, your jaw, down your neck like he wants to taste what you did to him all over again. it’s frantic and messy and fast—his hands sliding up your dress, finding bare skin, gripping tight enough to bruise.
“you’re fucking insane,” he mutters, lips hot against your throat. “you know that?”
you laugh, breathless. “didn’t seem like you were complaining.”
he grins against your skin. then bites.
you gasp—hands flying to his shoulders, anchoring yourself as his thigh slots between yours and lifts.
“was i supposed to?” he murmurs, pressing closer. “you looked real fucking proud of yourself out there.”
you just nod, too dazed to answer. you feel drunk, but it’s not the alcohol—it’s him. the weight of his body, the way his hand shoves your dress up without hesitation, the heat of his fingers slipping between your thighs and—
“fuck, you’re soaked,” he groans. “all that for me?”
you nod again, whimpering when he runs two fingers up your slit, slow and deliberate.
“use your words.”
“yes,” you moan. “yes all for you’”
that’s all it takes.
he hauls you into the sound booth like he doesn’t care who sees. it’s dark and narrow, filled with equipment and wires and the low hum of bass bleeding through the walls—but he barely gives you a second to look before he’s slamming the door shut behind you and pushing you up against it.
he kisses you like he’s starving. teeth scraping, tongue filthy. you whine into his mouth and he swallows it whole.
“get up there.”
he nods toward the console desk. you scramble back, climbing up like it’s instinct, legs spreading over the edge without being asked.
he drops to his knees.
and before you can even say a word—his hands are under your thighs, pulling you forward, and his mouth is on you.
you nearly scream.
his tongue is relentless. fast, greedy, messy—like he’s trying to fuck you with his mouth, like he needs to taste every second you spent under that table and make up for every minute he had to sit there pretending not to lose his mind.
you grab at the wires. the edge of the desk. his hair. something—anything to keep yourself tethered because he’s so good at this and he knows it. knows how to flick his tongue just right, how to suck your clit until your thighs tremble, how to moan into you like the taste is addictive.
“chris—fuck, chris—”
he groans against you. one hand reaches up to yank your dress down, pulling the neckline low enough to expose your chest. he doesn’t even hesitate—just leans up, takes your nipple in his mouth, sucks hard while his fingers slide inside you.
you clench around him instantly. cry out.
“that’s it,” he growls, voice low and wrecked. “you wanna act like a slut under my table? then you take what i give you.”
you moan so loud you think the crowd might hear.
he pumps two fingers deep, curling just right while his mouth goes back to your clit, flicking and sucking until you can’t breathe.
and then—
you come so hard you almost black out.
it rolls through you like a wave—hot and choking and endless—and he doesn’t stop. just keeps licking, slow and careful, fingers still moving until you’re shaking.
you try to push him away.
“too much—too much—”
he doesn’t listen.
he’s smiling against your skin, fingers soaked, licking you through the aftershocks like he lives for this. for wrecking you. for watching you fall apart in the back of a club you both know he owns.
you tug at his hair, desperate.
and finally—finally—he pulls back.
his lips are slick. his pupils blown. and when he stands, he looks completely feral.
“turn around.”
you blink. still dazed. “what?”
“on your hands and knees, baby.” he’s already unbuckling his belt. “right here. on the desk.”
your whole body shivers.
you do it without thinking—spin around, brace yourself, cheek pressed to the cold metal and ass up, back arched instinctively.
he groans like he’s in pain.
you feel the head of his cock slide through your folds, teasing. he leans over you, breath hot in your ear.
“you’re so fucking perfect,” he whispers. “you knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”
you nod, breathless.
he thrusts in deep, and you scream.
the stretch is brutal. you’re still sensitive—too tight, too wet, and he’s thick—it feels impossible and perfect all at once. he gives you a second to adjust, his hands gripping your hips so tight it hurts.
then he starts to move.
slow at first. dragging it out. making you feel everything.
and then faster. harder. deeper.
you’re a mess. moaning, gasping, clutching the desk like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.
he fucks you like he’s punishing you. but his words are all praise.
“so good for me.”
“so fucking tight.”
“my pretty girl. my perfect mouth. my favorite pussy.”
you can’t speak. can’t think.
he grabs your hair and pulls you up just enough to kiss your neck.
and then—hand between your legs again—he starts rubbing your clit, fast and precise, and your whole body locks up.
“chris—”
“yeah, baby. come for me again.”
and you do.
harder this time. louder.
he grunts, hips stuttering, and you feel him spill inside you—hot and endless and deep—filling you up like it’s all he’s ever wanted.
you both collapse.
he wraps an arm around your waist, chest to your back, panting into your neck like he’s just run a marathon.
you’re shaking.
your dress is ruined. your thighs are soaked. and the bass is still thumping behind the walls like the world hasn’t changed in the last ten minutes.
he presses a kiss to your shoulder.
“you good?”
you nod weakly.
( warmwiskeyeyes )
this is hot asf i can’t lie. anyway another dj!chris and partygirl!reader fic?!?! heck yeahh?
‘taglist: @sugarraez @whore4chris @bxsturni @wh0remikasas @ariheartsmatt @ruennei @inspiredangel @tezzzzzzzz @leahlcves @kayskreativeideas @sturnsflirt @oopsiedaisydeer
