C🌺

You had caught his eye from across the club as soon as you walked in. As the music thumped and the drinks flowed, you made your way to the dance floor. Your hips swayed to the beat as he approached you. He was a cocky motherfucker from the start; grabbing your waist and sliding his hands down your hips. You think you recognize from a few house parties, but you weren’t quite sure. All you knew was that he was fucking hot. 

He grips you with want as your two bodies move to the beat of the music. “Shake that ass just a lil bit, let me see it go up and down,” he whispers in your ear. You grind and wind your hips to the beat, rubbing up against the already present bulge in his jeans.

“Let’s go back to my place,” he suggests. 

Now he’s unbuttoning your pants as you lay in his bed, sprawled out just for him. He stands above you, tugging them down before kissing your plush skin. Warm lips kiss higher and higher along the inside of your thigh, until his face hovers over your clothed cunt. His fingers hook at the waistband of your underwear, gliding them down and off in one quick movement. 

Your legs spread eagerly, fully aware of how wet you already are. Chris wraps his arms around your legs, pulling at your soft mound so your glistening folds are on full display. Soft sounds escape your throat as he nibbles around the place you want him most.

He inhales your scent before diving his tongue through your warm heat and your back arches involuntarily. He reacts by diving deeper, allowing the tip of his nose to graze your clit as his tongue prods your soft opening. His whole head moves in circular motions, allowing his nose to swirl around your soft bud, along with his tongue through your swollen center. He laps at your juices and his chin grows wetter by the second. 

He pulls away just as you feel your high approaching.Your lips pout at the loss of contact, but before you can complain he has you flipped on all fours. 

Chris pulls his desperate cock out; tip red and swollen from being hard for so long. He runs his fingers through your slick before greedily pumping his cock with your essence. Your curiosity gets the best of you, so you turn your head back to look at him. 

“Keep that face down and ass up for me. I know you’ll take it like a pro,” he coaxes. 

You listen like the eager slut you are as his dick teases your entrance. It slides through your softness before easing into your pussy. 

“Biiiig stretch,” he breathes, bottoming out so your fucked full. 

Just as soon as he’s filled you to the hilt, he pulls out. He grinds into you again at the perfect pace.

“Fuuuuck, grippin me so tight,” he grunts as your gummy walls constrict around his thick cock. Soon, Chris has you chasing the feeling of your climax. You meet his thrusts half way, throwing it back so you can fuck yourself on his cock. 

“Thaaaaat’s it,” he praises, slapping your ass once. He reaches to grab a handful of hair at the nape of your neck, tugging you backward. The makeshift ponytail he creates with his fist is all he’s holding onto you with now. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room with every thrust. His cock continues to abuse your insides as you feel a hot band snap within your core. 

Chris grunts as waves of your orgasm flow through your body. His climax follows soon after yours and you feel his dick pulsate deep inside you. Warm sticky cum fills your needy cunt to the brim before he slowly eases out of you. Your body goes limp and spent and he lies down next to you, still regulating his breathing. 

“I’m Chris, by the way,” he says between breaths. 

You never even asked his name.

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While talking with your friends, you hadn’t realized the volume when you confessed the scandalous secret.

“Oh, I love free-use. If Chris came home and just needed me like that? Ugh…that’s so hot to me.”

Those were your words from your mouth.

At first, Chris didn’t know how to feel.

Wouldn’t that be degrading towards you? Why would you possibly want that?

But then he did his research. Curious and carefully, he typed words into a search bar that he’d never dared to even think before.

And after all the articles and personal testaments from other like-minded people, he understood.

The whole idea revolved around feeling needed. Appreciated.

He was comfortable with the idea…and then he became intoxicated by it.

You want him to need you.

Maybe when you’re cooking, he can just bend you over the kitchen counter.

Or…what if it’s in the middle of the night and he can’t sleep and he takes you right then?

He’d most certainly rip whatever pajama bottoms you’re wearing off, slide your panties to the side, and wake you up with that biggggg stretch of his cock.

But first, he’d have to talk to you.

—

You were mortified. Everything about this made you wanna roll over and land into a grave.

Here you were, legs crossed as you sat on the couch with your hands clutched together in your lap, listening with burning ears.

God, this is embarrassing.

“Baby, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, I’m not lecturing you, I’m just asking if you want—“

You cut Chris off, eyes wide and lips loose. “No, no. You must’ve misheard me. I would never want something like that! It’s…it’s weird and—“

“It’s not weird.” He pouts.

Oh…was he into it?

“Wait. You have this kink too?”

“Too, huh?” He smirks, the cockiness in the raise of his eyebrow making you realize your mistake.

You basically just admitted it. There was no going back now. And honestly? The anticipation of what was coming next made the humiliation simmer down in the pit of your gut.

“Initially, no.” Oh. Well that sucks. “But…I did my research and…I, uh…I…yeah. I’m definitely liking the idea now.”

His voice is a bit raspier. You notice as he coughs, he brings his hand down to pet over the slight tent in his jeans casually.

The pinkness in his cheeks lets you know you weren’t supposed to notice, but you’re glad you did.

“So…” you climb over, regaining some dignity and confidence as you nuzzle into his side. Your eyes peer right up at his. You swear you can’t breathe as he looks at you with possibilities twinkling in his eyes. “What do we do now?”

He licks over his lips hungrily. It’s like he’s fighting himself, stopping his instincts from making him take you right then and there.

“Well…I, uh, let’s talk about rules. I want to do this the right way…”

—

It’s been about a week since that conversation. With each passing day, you felt the excitement build.

You’d gone over rules and boundaries until they were crystal clear. Chris had some concerns but they all faded when he realized how much you craved this.

“Chris said there’s stuff at the warehouse for us to pick up. We’ll be back in a bit.” Matt says, tossing his keys around like a fidget spinner while Nick trails behind him.

Huh.

The thing is, Chris wasn’t home. In fact, you could tell he was on his way based on the last text he sent. Why wouldn’t be just pick up stuff at the warehouse on his way?

Why did your clit twitch at the thought of him planning—scheming something so devious…?

You silently thank yourself for what you decided to wear today. The low cut tank top makes your tits pop, and the little cotton lounge shorts you have on would be really easy to get off quick…

Plus the matching bra and panties you have are quite the treat. Both flimsy purple lace that’s soft yet a little itchy when you move too quick.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a slam of the front door. Chris is home.

Usually, he announces his presence, makes sure to say the cheesy line of ‘honey I’m home!’

…but he doesn’t.

Instead, he walks up the stairs and into your view with a look on his face that makes something burn within you.

He looks feral.

You swallow thickly, adjusting your comfortable position on the couch. You reach out as he stalks towards you. Before you can stand up to hug him, he grabs you by the hips, shoving you roughly into the couch cushions with your ass in the air and knees bumping against the ground.

“Chr—oh!” You squeal as you feel his hand grab a handful of your ass, a smack that’s more than light tap against your inner thigh, forcing you to spread your legs.

“Open up, baby. Open up now.”

His voice is…god…it’s really something. You hear his pant zipper slide down, shuffling of his clothes echo in the span of just seconds.

Before you know it, he’s manhandling you—nearly ripping your flimsy shorts and panties off while propping you higher on the couch.

Your knees now dig into the cushions you typically sit on. The hard back of the sofa pushing against your stiff nipples.

He’s barely done anything but you’re dripping. You can feel the slick arousal leak out of your pulsating hole, slithering to the crease of your inner thighs.

“Look at that…fuck…”

He’s more so talking to himself as he spreads your folds open, analyzing you like he’s hypnotized.

You wiggle your hips out of impatience. Chris immediately laughs at you, the cocky sound making your gut swarm with butterflies.

“Oh, don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna use you in just a sec, just….god damn, gotta admire this view…” he husks, slightly brushing his pointer finger on your entrance to catch a droplet of your wetness. He smears it on the back of your thigh, like it’s some sort of ritual.

And god, you love it.

You love it even more when he shoves his fat tip into your entrance with absolutely no warning…

“Bigggg stretch for me…”

You’re suffocating his cock. Your pussy has warped around his length in the most delicious way, squeezing every vein on his girthy dick like it’s your dying wish to milk him dry.

“O-oh!” You squeal as he pushes forward, his cock practically splitting you in half from such the drastic change in pressure down there.

But you’re not complaining, no.

You love it.

So much so that your arousal begins to drip in his pubes as he bottoms out, your wetness caressing his balls.

You’re just…so fucking drenched.

“Jesus, baby. You really love this, huh?” He taunts, slowly pulling out about halfway before urging his hips forward once more.

You jolt at the intrusion. The squelch of your pussy against his pelvis makes your toes curl. He repeats the same action, this time…a little…rougher.

“Oh shit,” he hisses his nails digging into your hip as you clench hard.

“It’s—it’s still okay, right?” He asks, hesitant yet barely holding himself back.

Something inside of you twists with frustration. You went over rules. You don’t want him to ask, you want him to need you—to ruin you because he’ll die without it.

“Shut up and fuck me, Chris.”

That’s all it takes.

Those few words seem to be the key to the cage of his savageness. His cock drags in and out of you, no mercy, pounding into you.

He moans and cusses like he’s already about to cum. Mostly because he’s trying so hard to hold himself back.

“O-oh-my—chris!”

You’re screaming makes him grin like a sick man. He angles his hips slightly different, letting out a cocky huff as you sob out.

“Yeah? Right there, huh?” He leans over, cradling himself over your back as he drives his dick to abuse your cunt. “This is my fuckin pussy. Mine to fuck, mine to use. Isn’t that right?”

You don’t response. Mostly because you can’t.

Your mouth hangs open, drool pooling out as you let out battle cries of pleasure. It feels so good. You don’t know what to do with yourself, you don’t know if you’ve ever felt this much before.

He’s so deep. He’s so…thick.

And his whispered groans against the curve of your ear makes the pleasure inescapable.

“Fuckin answer or I’ll stop.” He demands. The threat immediately grabs your attention. You can’t have him stop. Not now…not when you’re so…so close.

“W-wa-what did—did—you—you sa-say?”

Your words are shattered every time he ruts his cock deep inside your weeping pussy. He can’t help but grin, leaning and nipping at your ear.

“I said,” he thrusts particularly hard, laughing as you desperately clutch onto the back of the sofa. “You’re mine to use, aren’t you, baby? Isn’t that—“

This time, you cut him off. You don’t necessarily mean to, but you can’t help but wholeheartedly agree with his question.

“Yes! Yes! I’m—I’m you-yours! To use! To-to fuck—to—oh god,” you let out an elongated scream as he punishes your sweet spot, his hands holding your squirming body so tight that you can’t catch a break from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Good girl. Good—fuckkkkk…you’re so close, I can—can feel it. Shit.”

He loses all control. His pace is animalistic, his force beginning to become so hard you’re sure your inner thighs will be bruised from where his body slaps against yours with every thrust.

“C-cl-clos-close-I—“

“Fuck—I know, I know. Just—fuck, keep—squeeze my dick just like that, yes, mmmm god—“

Your thighs tense over and over again. Your vision blurs, your entire body feeling electric as you feel an overwhelming knot build, build, build…

And then it snaps.

No—it erupts.

All consuming, absolutely riveting—you feel your orgasm pummel over your body. It’s an overwhelming relief. Something that makes everything else disappear except for the sensation of Chris’s hard cock punching into you, hitting you in that spot over and—

“Oh my—Chris! Oh my god, I’m cumming, I’m cumming—I’m—“

You’re cut off with a silent scream. Your body jerks around, stimulated to a whole new level. Chris locks you in place, his hands bruisingly tight and determined to make you feel every single thing.

“There we go, yes—oh—gon—gonna fill you—shitttttt,” he curses, mumbling something incoherent about this being his pussy as he spills into you.

The warmth from his cum is comforting. Especially as he pulls out softly, trying not to overstimulate you.

“Did so good for me, holy shit,” he’s hypnotized watching his cum ooze out of your swollen, pulsing heat. He lets his hands wander, his thumb pressing on one of your pussy lips to hold you open.

You squirm. Chris almost feels bad for overstimulating you, but the guilt fades to obsession as he see his milky white semen pump out of your hole.

“Chris, too much…” you whine.

He gently lets his hands wander down to the back of your thigh, giving a reassuring caress. “Sorry, sorry…just…so pretty like this…”

You laugh, causing a bit more of Chris’s essence to spill. He hisses at the sight, biting his lip. “Okay…I’m…let me clean you up before I lose my mind.”

A couple minutes pass. Chris cleans you up carefully, swallowing thickly as his cream lathers on your swollen pussy.

This still seems like some sort of dream.

There’s no way this was real…

“Alright,” Chris pulls your panties back in place, leaving your shorts discarded somewhere around.

He drags you into his lap while sitting on the couch, one of his hands rubbing your thigh, the other holding you in place against him softly.

“Doing okay? Was everything goo—“

“Chris I don’t think I’ve ever came so hard in my life. You didn’t hurt me — not in any way I didn’t enjoy at least.”

He groans, his forehead falling limp against your shoulder. “You…you can’t just say that, fuck. Makes me wanna…ugh…” he sucks in a deep breath, calming himself down.

Part of you wants him to flip you over, rip your underwear carelessly and have his way with you.

Maybe next time.

.

.

.

Paige’s Notes: I’m actually so obsessed with this. I started writing it as soon as I woke up…I might be a whore, but at least it’s for someone as sexy as Chris Sturniolo lol

Also…should I write more kinky fics in the future…? I’m kinda scared to but lmk if you’d like to see more 🙂‍↕️

I stood in the kitchen, the weight of the day pressing down on my shoulders like an invisible yoke. The clock on the microwave glowed 8:42 PM, mocking me with how late it was, and my feet ached from hours on the cold tile floor at work, followed by the grocery run that had stretched into rush-hour traffic. Dinner was half-prepped, chicken breasts thawing on the counter and a pot of water waiting for pasta, but I couldn't muster the energy to keep going. My muscles throbbed, a deep, insistent fatigue that made my eyelids heavy and my back slump forward against the edge of the sink.

That's when I felt him behind me. Matt's presence was a sudden warmth, his body heat seeping through the thin cotton of my shirt before his hands even touched me. Strong fingers settled on my shoulders, thumbs pressing into the tight knots with just the right pressure. I let out a slow breath, my head dipping forward instinctively as he began to massage, working in slow, measured circles. The scent of his skin hit me then, clean soap mixed with the faint musk of his cologne, familiar and grounding, like coming home.

"Rough day?" he murmured softly right by my ear, his breath warm against my skin.

"Yeah." I sighed, eyes fluttering closed. "My boss piled on three reports by noon, and then the printer jammed during the team meeting. Everyone was staring at me like it was my fault." His thumbs dug deeper, unraveling a knot near my shoulder blade, and a soft groan escaped my lips, the sound vibrating through my chest.

He chuckled softly, the vibration rumbling from his chest into my back as he pulled me closer, his arms sliding around my waist. His forearms crossed over my stomach, hands splaying flat against my lower belly, holding me secure against him. I melted a little, leaning back into the solid wall of his body, the exhaustion starting to diminish under his touch.

Then came the first kiss, a gentle press of his lips to the side of my neck, just below my ear. His stubble lightly grazed against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine, and I felt the heat pooling low in my belly despite my weariness.

"Tell me more, baby." he whispered, lips brushing the spot again, lingering this time. His tongue flicked out for a quick, wet swipe that made my pulse stutter. "What else happened?"

I swallowed, trying to focus, but his arms tightened just enough to draw me flush against him, the hard line of his growing bulge nestling into the curve of my ass. "A client called at five, yelling about deadlines we never agreed to. I— oh..." My words faltered as his hands slipped under the hem of my shirt, cool fingertips grazing the warm skin of my stomach. They lazily glided upwards, until his palms cupped my breasts. I opted for no bra after my shower, and the direct contact made me gasp, a sharp inhale that echoed within the otherwise quiet kitchen.

Matt kneaded them gently at first, thumbs circling my nipples until they stiffened into tight peaks under his touch. The texture of his callused palms dragged deliciously over the sensitive undersides, a rough contrast to the softness he coaxed from me. I arched into his hands, my head falling back against his shoulder, and he gave me another kiss. This one was open-mouthed along the length of my neck, sucking lightly until I felt the wet pull of his mouth releasing my skin with a soft pop.

"Sounds like bullshit." he said, his voice husky now, and his breath hot against my collarbone. One hand continued its thorough onslaught, fingers rolling my nipple between them, pinching, twisting, and soothing. The other massaged deeper, lifting and squeezing the full weight of my breast. "Did you say anything?"

"I wanted to." I whimpered, the word breaking on a moan as he nipped at the spot where my neck met my shoulder. His teeth grazed just hard enough to sting, then soothed it with his tongue. My thighs pressed together instinctively, the ache building between them, as the wet heat gathered while his body rocked subtly against mine. "But... no, I just... fixed it. Again." Each word came out breathless, punctuated by gasps when his kneading turned firmer, thumbs flicking my nipples in rhythm with his kisses, building a rhythm that made my knees go weak.

"You're too good to them." he gruffed softly, lips trailing to that tender juncture again, kissing and licking until I could feel the damp trail cooling in the air. His hands never stopped, one sliding lower now to trace the underside of my breast while the other teased the nipple relentlessly. The dual sensations pulled whimpers from my throat. The kitchen counter was now digging into my hips as I pushed back against him, seeking more friction. "Keep going, sweetheart. What happened after?"

"Traffic was hell." I managed, my voice pitching higher on a moan when he pinched both nipples at once, tugging just enough to send sparks straight to my core. I clenched, empty and throbbing, and I grinded back against the prominent bulge in his jeans, feeling its heat through the denim. Matt’s arms held me tighter, one hand abandoning my breast to splay across my waist again, keeping me pinned as he marked my neck with slow, sucking kisses that surely left faint red marks. The sound of my own ragged breaths filled the room, mingled with the wet sounds of his mouth and the rustle of my shirt bunching higher.

He hummed in approval, teeth grazing my earlobe before capturing it between his lips, sucking gently. "Let’s order food instead. Let me take care of you tonight. You deserve this." His free hand returned to my breast, kneading with renewed focus, fingers spreading wide to grab as much as he could. I was trembling now, all my venting forgotten amid the haze of pleasure that clouded my mind. With another deep kiss on my shoulder, his tongue swirling over the skin, and I whimpered loudly. My body had fully melted against him now, completely surrendering, as the day's tension unraveled thread by thread under Matt’s relentless, loving touch.

A/N: i guess this officially marks the end of my hiatus??? lmao i had this short and sweet idea so i decided to write it but thank you for everyone's patience eventually i'll be coming back very soon to post full fledge fics!!

taglist 1: @sturncoast @ariestrxsh @n3vers4tisfied @chrisssiren @sturniolo-szn2 @xo-gabs @spookysturnz @lyingonchris @privatelyowned-t @matt0bsessed @httpssturns @courta13 @hannahsturns @cuntiolotriplets @sabprincess @mattspillowprincess @mamaagirlbehindu123 @grace-sturnz @whore4chris @mwahmatt @chickenundercover-09 @snowprincessleopard @eeyore-of-100-acre-wood @angel-sturn1 @sturniloxwz @sturnskiss @viviansturns @hannahsturniolo @salemsturniolo @challengers4ev @izzysturn @anisturniolox @gracedbysturns @mattsleftball @norahsturns @ilovematthewsturniolo1 @devotedlyteenagemusic @abiiialt @billscherries @iknowyouhave20dolllars @bernwentonio @lycheeolo @sturni-olii @sturntiolo @sleepinourtears @nbhdmatt @dearxcherry @chriss-slutt @may-bee-lovers @obx-hp-fan @rollingintheglitter

Something didn’t feel the same as it used to. I couldn’t name it. In my bones there was a new ache of excitement. 

A slight discomfort was apparent. I think the soreness of my muscles must be releasing tension. It’s different, partially uncomfortable…but I don’t mind it. At all.

My husband was still nowhere to be found. 

The house felt lighter, not empty. Although his shadow still lingered on his side of the bed, his fingerprints still etched on the kitchen cabinet knobs, and the walls seemed to echo with the noises that usually got drowned in his voice. 

“Well, aren’t you pretty…” I hum, looking out the window to see a blue bird perched on the outside sill. 

The little creature’s wings flutter, head tilting with curiosity almost as if to mimic me. A laugh rumbles through my chest. I let out a hefty breath, leaning back into the reclined with a resting smile. 

A reminiscent lingering of sweet, sugary cereal made my tea taste slightly bitter this morning. I don’t mind. It seems like a good balance, if anything. 

Lashes brimming my eyes tangle together, tickling against one another as I let out another sigh. Warm liquid glides down my throat, gravity grounding me rather than challenging my strength to hold myself up while standing tall. 

“Oh my…” I whisper to myself. 

The lady is back. The one I traumatized with multiple ill painted scenes of my husband and I during our new time in this neighborhood. 

Her steps seem to move faster, her calm facade dropping. She seems anxious. Especially when her dog wanders onto the front lawn of the house, presuming a position to perform natural functions. 

In other terms, she seems utterly horrified as her dog starts shitting diarrhea onto the spotless grass. 

I can’t help but laugh at first. However, the humor dies as I watch her try to tug the dog by the leash, only for the brown liquid to smear through the strands of green. 

She shrieks, pausing with ears so red they might as well be on fire. “Hey! No! Stop! Stop! Stop!” 

My feet move before I can overthink it. I open the front door, the sound catching her attention as if a gun had just released a bullet in her direction.

“I’m so sorry, I—ugh! Come on! Stop right this instant!” She snaps. 

She thinks I’m my husband. Ugh. “Ma’am,” I sigh, trying to hold a friendly smile on my face despite the disappointing realization. “It’s okay. It’s a dog, you can’t control that. Don’t worry too much, please,” I insist, rubbing my hands up and down my arms as I hug myself. 

Did she really think I was going to yell? For something beyond her control? 

Is that how I come across? 

“Oh…okay. I’m still very sorry. And embarrassed.” She adds. 

My brows furrow before my cheekbones rise, the corners of my lips disappearing as I grin. “Well, I’m embarrassed too, if it makes you feel any better. I can’t believe you thought I’d be upset over something so normal.” 

The dog makes eye contact with me. Still shitting, still struggling to hold position comfortably. I laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, sparing the dog a sympathetic smile before turning my gaze back to the woman. 

Believe me, dog…I’ve been there. Take your time.

“Really? Your, um…your husband said if this ever happened he’d—well, nevermind, dear. I’m just glad you’re so nice.”

My brows crease, a look of distaste shrinking over my face as I connect the reason as to why this woman was so horrified in the first place. Adam. 

He must have said something. 

All because he couldn’t handle anything less than perfection, even when things beyond control happened like they always do. 

Huh. I never thought of it in those terms. They resonate eerily well though. Especially with the last turnover that made him disappear for this long. 

It all flipped sideways when I forgot wine. One thing from an entire dinner and suddenly none of my efforts mattered. 

Or when I ironed his shirt and missed one spot. It wasn’t because I didn’t care enough to remember, it was because one inch of fabric wasn’t perfect. And perfect was his standards for everything. 

That’s…unreasonable…right?

No one can live up to perfection. That’s part of being human. Maybe that’s why I’m so…’awful’ all the time. Because, in his eyes, I’m not perfect. I make mistakes, I forget things, I…I do things like a normal human-being. 

I mean, he’s allowed to fuck up. Why can’t I?

He put dishes in the dishwasher upside down for years even though I corrected him so many times. Instead of throwing a fit or fixing it, I just told him he could leave his dishes in the sink. It was easier to do more work rather than face the fact that he doesn’t really…listen. At least not to me. 

Abuse wasn’t the term for this. It couldn't be. He didn’t batter me black and blue everyday and bring me to the brink of death. But…he had left marks before. He’d done things regardless of my input to my own body. 

But if I so much as thought about shoving past him…oh, that would be trouble. 

He loves me. He’s supposed to love me, he’s my husband. Although…I can’t remember the last time anything felt like actual love instead of just relief. 

I can’t even remember the last time I wanted to tell him I loved him without the reeling instinct of obligation. 

Wow. How did we get here?

Reality settles in with a numbing feeling, one that settles like cotton over my eyes. I gnaw so hard on my lip that the stinging pain pulls me back to the sight in front of me—the woman struggling to bend down and grab the gross goop of an upset stomach from her dog. 

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s supposed to rain later, it’ll just wash it away.” 

My words hang in the air differently. The shift in my voice is apparent, the subtle tone of dissonance vibrating like a distant melody through my skull. 

The lady straightens herself. “Thank you, darling,” her eyes squint with appreciation, then with worry. “Are you alright? I…I don’t want to make any assumptions, but I hear some yellin’ when I walk past and some, um…not so great things—”

“I’m fine.”

Even I don’t believe the rushed words flowing out of my mouth. I didn’t even think before I said them, I was running purely off instinct—defending my husband before I processed anything for myself. 

“Okay,” she nods, slow and hesitant, as if she’s scared that disagreeing with me will make me shun her. “But, I do worry. I’m an old lady, as you can see,” she laughs, making a half smile tug on my lips, “I’ve…been through a lot. My first husband was…something…not…just…if you need anything, I’m here. I understand.” 

I nod, swallow the lump in my throat that seems to bulge beneath my skin. “Oh, okay, I…” 

It’s not that bad.

It’s not that bad. 

It…it’s just….

“Listen, I’m the green house right down the street on the corner. It’s the one with all the gnomes in the lawn. If you need anything—and I mean anything, come over. I rarely ever leave the house…and I could really use the company too.”

I lick over my teeth, my mouth suddenly feeling too dry. “Thank you…” 

She starts walking, the dog finally preppy enough to trot along forward. “Anytime darlin’ just…don’t be like me…”

My eyes stay patiently on her as she spares a friendly smile. 

“Don’t wait until it’s bad enough to get help.”

—

One thought echoed, simple and plain: It was already too late, wasn’t it? 

Physical violence had been introduced long ago, that wasn’t new. What was new was how…frequent it was becoming. How normal. I almost expected it more than anything at this point. 

I couldn’t even seem to get a job interview for some shitty part time job with him. How would I even go about making money to survive without him? 

It’s not like I could go to my parents for help. They were all the way across the country and I wasn’t even sure if they knew my recent phone number. Well, new as in years ago. Before we had moved from our hometown for the first time. 

God, that was really years ago. 

They definitely don’t wanna hear from their ghost of a daughter who’s never reached out unless she needs something. That would be crass. 

I just…don’t know what to do. 

Reversing all the damage in our marriage isn’t an option. No matter what conversation we have, I still know what his hands feel like in the worst ways. I didn’t associate his touch with love anymore, I didn’t acknowledge the mere thought of him with love anymore. 

It was all resentment. Or at least that’s what the most pronounced emotion was ringing though my head. 

I mean, look around. 

This life…this house…this everything—it’s all him, what he’s wanted, what works best for him. He didn’t care enough to treat me with a decent amount of respect, he didn’t even consider me when thinking about his goals. 

He just…assumes. 

I’m just a toy to him, a built-in maid. And I let it get that way. I left my dreams and aspirations in the dust because I was so in love, so infatuated with the idea of our relationship rather than chasing the feeling of freedom.

“Well would you look at that…” I huff, staring down at the grocery list in front of me. A bunch of ingredients for his favourite meals, for his preferences.

When’s the last time I chose anything for myself?

When’s the last time I actually chose my own needs over his in any capacity?

I couldn’t remember. In fact, I couldn’t recall a single time since we got married. 

Hell, the first night didn’t even go great. It went…awful. 

I always thought my wedding day would make me feel like a princess. I dreamed of the dress, the flowers, the family—and I got that, but…it wasn’t what I imagined….

– flashback to their wedding night years ago –

Oh. My. Gosh.

This was it. My big day—the day. 

I can’t believe it…I’m here, this is happening, with a man who loves me. How lucky am I? 

“Deep breaths, just take deeep breaths,” my dad laughs, patting my shoulder soothingly as we stare at the closed chapel doors. His arm is holding mine, linked in a formal display. 

I’m about to walk down the aisle. I can hear the soft music start to play. I know I need to take the first step—the first step into my new life, married to a man I love, building my own story instead of living in other people’s.

“Okay…I…I’m ready,” I say, my voice wavering with anxiety or excitement, I can’t differentiate the two anymore. 

The doors part, a gap of an opening widening. I see smiles, pairs of so many eyes, and…and then I see him—Adam.

He’s staring at me with so much love I get dizzy. All the soft coos and gasps as I pass shrink to silence as I look back at him. 

This is it. This is my moment. 

I’m a bride. I look so beautiful I can barely process it and it’s just…magic. 

I feel like I’m dreaming. 

The aisle is shorter than I remember while first checking out this venue. My feet are numb, my hands are shaky, and something inside of my chest is swelling warmly. 

“You’re…” Adam stares up and down. His eyes mesmerize as he takes it all in. 

Beautiful, he’s gonna say. 

Gorgeous.

Ethereal.

Everything.

I’m biting my lip, gnawing with anticipation as he speaks. It’s a regular pace of his words, but right now I’m thinking a million thoughts per second, this entire scene something I’ve dreamt of a thousand times.

Taking a shriveled breath, I reach to grab his hands as my father lets me go. My nimble fingers shakily glide into his grip, his hands pressing with a reassuring squeeze. 

“You’re…gonna be my wife.” He finally finishes.

Something withers inside my chest. It’s like a song taking a turn towards dreary notes instead of a light melody. 

He’s not even in the moment, he’s focused on the outcome. 

It shouldn’t hurt as bad as it does, but something…sinks. My chest decompresses with a heavy breath, my eyes dimming as I blink into reality. 

Looking around, I see just how many eyes are staring at me. I gulp. This doesn’t feel the same as it did just a second ago. 

I want to run. Bolt right off the altar and never look back.

But that’s just nerves…

Right?

—

Nearly ten hours later, the feeling still hadn’t faded. The darker the sky became, the more I needed the moon. 

The evening had dwindled down cheerfully. People talked, danced, ate, drank…and I stood there, feeling like I was stuck in a cage within my own mind watching a beautiful moment that wasn’t entirely mine anymore. 

Adam’s arm was possessively draped around me all night. The new title of ‘wife’ was the only compliment I had received from him all day.

Well, until now. 

The wedding dress had been peeled from my body. He didn’t bother taking out my hair, just kept letting his hands roam over places I’d never let him touch before. 

Afterall, I was firm on waiting till marriage to have sex. 

Intimacy wasn’t just a fun hobby to me, it was vulnerable…emotionally connecting. I wasn’t willing to do that with anyone until I knew it meant they were staying forever. 

I wouldn’t be one of those dumb girls who got their hearts broken over guys who never truly cared. I wasn’t stupid…

But right now, I kinda feel stupid. 

In one of the most vulnerable experiences of my life, I could feel discomfort in all forms. My head hurt  from all the pins, the makeup on my face felt heavy, my feet ached from standing all night, and my body was just exhausted from everything about the day finally catching up.

“I’ve wait so long for this, fuck…you’re so sexy,” Adam whispers along my skin, his hands hot and greedy as he gropes up and down my sides. 

It’s the first compliment he’s given to me today. 

Even though there’s a wedding dress on the floor and heavy rings on my finger…it doesn’t feel how I thought it would. It was supposed to be…I don’t know…comfortable? Secure?

Instead, the feeling of anxious knots makes me nauseous. I find my mind floating to another headspace as his hands roam too quickly, too aggressively…

It doesn’t feel like passion. It feels like impatience. 

And suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like anything at all. 

– flashback over–

I don’t remember a compliment after that day, not one that I appreciated, at least. Sexy was his usual term of endearment. I hated that. 

Being sexy wasn’t the reason I wanted to be touched. Being loved was. 

I stare down at the grocery list once again, my eyes drifting to my shaky hand. The silver and diamonds on my ring finger makes my chest tighten. It’s uncomfortable how much the bands seem to weigh down. 

I wonder what it would feel like…to just…

Sliding off the jewelry, I take a deep breath. 

It feels odd. Almost as if I’m naked. But it doesn't feel like something's missing, it feels…relieving. 

God, I need some air. Quick. 

The dining chair screeches against the wooden floor. I bolt out the front entrance of the house with a desperation for fresh air. 

“Geez,” I breathe out, my eyes fluttering shut as I take slow, even breaths. 

Why? 

Why did I stay at the altar? 

Why did I not listen to my gut? 

Why…why did I not trust my instinct?

.

.

.

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Paige’s Notes: So sorry for being slow updating...I'm a busy gal, but I'm trying my best! Thank you for reading & being patient! ALSO...what did we think about the wedding flashback...or who the 'strange' lady is...(hint: she's very...important...) LMK in the comments/reblogs/or even in my inbox!

The first two weeks of summer were like a reset you didn’t know you needed. You spent a lot of quality time with your siblings and volunteered at the trailer park summer camp on your days off. You focused on everything you needed to, no distractions. 

Your savings were adding up and it felt like you could finally breathe. You had already spoken to the leasing office at the trailer park and you knew you’d be able to put a deposit down on a trailer very soon.

You hadn’t heard from your parents and you selfishly felt like it was a relief. This wasn’t something new. Your dad went months without contacting you, so you didn’t bat an eye when your mom stopped coming back to the motel. In fact, you liked it better that way. 

Now, you’re back at the motel after dropping off the kids at camp and running to the bank. You start your cleaning shift soon, so you want to tidy up your own room beforehand. Your door is already unlocked, which surprises you. It was a busy morning so you wouldn’t be surprised if you forgot to lock it.

You push the door open but the light is already on. You're startled at what you see. Your mom is slumped over in your bed with a needle still stuck in her arm, just above a loosened rubber tourniquet. Her hair is matted and it looks like she hasn’t showered in days. Her mouth is agape, but she’s breathing.

“Mom?” She doesn’t respond. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen her like this, but it has been a while. 

“MOM.” You call her louder. Drool runs down her chin when you push her head back against the headboard. A low mumble escapes her mouth as she stirs slightly. She tries to open her eyes, but the drug in her system keeps her practically nonresponsive. She uses enough energy to lift her head up, but it slumps back down to its original position. 

This isn’t what you need right now. Things had been going so well. You let out a big huff and start playing caretaker. You search the drawer in your bedside table for gloves and scour the bed for the needle cap. You expertly pull the needle out of your mother’s arm and cap it, like you’ve done dozens of times before. It’s tossed into the garbage bin as you head to the bathroom to grab some antiseptic wipes and a bandaid. All the while, she remains zombie-like and in a daze. You clean your mom’s arm up and let her lay in bed for a little while longer. 

You can’t wait for her to come down from her high so you can give her a piece of your mind. For now, you have to get back to your new routine. You shower and clean up around the room. When the time comes to head out for your shift, you check on your mom one last time. 

“Hey, I’m leaving. Clean yourself up before I’m back. The kids don’t need to see you like this,” you tell her. Enough time has passed for her to be able to respond to you, but when you look at her, she hasn’t moved an inch. 

“Hey.” You shake her slightly, but her body is limp. 

“Mom.” You stick a finger under her nose but you don’t feel any warm air coming out. 

“Mom!” Panic starts to set in. You put your ear up against her chest but don’t hear a heartbeat. 

“No, no, no, no…” You look in the drawer. Where the fuck is the narcan? You used to have it ready to go, but you can’t find it. You stumble through the room searching. In the bathroom you find the narcan and administer it up her nose with shaky hands. 

You fiddle with your phone to dial 911. When they answer the call, you tell them she’s not breathing and that she’s shot up heroin. You don’t know if she’s had any other drugs, but you let them know you gave her narcan. They say to stay on the phone while you try CPR. 

One, two, three, four, breath.

One, two, three, four, breath.

One, two, three, four, breath.

Check for a heartbeat. 

Nothing. 

The paramedics finally arrive and you hang up the phone. They rush into the room. They check for a pulse and try CPR. They put her on a stretcher and wheel her out of the room. 

Your own heartbeat now thumps prominently in your ears. A nice paramedic lady asks you questions you have a hard time answering, but you try your best. They tell you they’re taking her to the hospital. You ask if she’s going to be okay and the lady honestly says she doesn’t know.

After everyone’s gone the room feels too silent. You sit on the kid’s bed, looking at the room around you. It tells the story of chaos. Drawers are open with contents spewed out while the empty narcan lays on the floor. The bed is a mess of tossed sheets and wrappers from whatever the paramedics gave to your mom and things are knocked over from when they wheeled the stretcher in.

Guilt sinks into your bones. Your immediate feelings when you saw her were that of annoyance and burden. You didn’t even realize your mom was in danger until it was too late. Instead, you let her lay there in a puddle of her own drool until she stopped breathing and now, you don’t know if she’s going to be okay. You sink down to the floor and wrap your arms around your knees. 

Your brain spirals with questions. What do I tell Jeff about my shift? What do I tell the kids? Should I tell the kids? Should I go see her in the hospital now? Should I wait for an update? The emotional whiplash makes you feel sick to your stomach. The world is crumbling around you and for once, you don’t know what to do.

You could call Scout, or you could call her mom, but they’re both working the summer camp. It takes you a moment to realize there’s only one person you actually want to call. 

Matt. 

You hold your phone, feeling the weight of it in your hands. It had been over two weeks since you spoke to him. He had sent you one last text before he stopped reaching out.

Let me know if you want to talk. If not, I’ll leave you alone.

You never responded. 

Now, his contact pops up and you hover over the call button. You chew on your lip before pushing the call button, and wait for it to ring on the other line. It only takes one ring. 

“Stray?”

The sound of his voice is just the medicine you need. 

“Matt?” Your voice shakes more than you’d like. “Can you come over? I…I need help.” You sniffle. The last few words feel foreign on your tongue.

“I’m on my way, stray girl. Don’t worry,” he says, then hangs up the phone. 

There’s a knock on the door a little while later. When you open the door, Matt wears worry all over his face. 

“Matt,” you say softly, rushing to hold him in a tight embrace. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, trying hard not to cry. He allows it, hugging you back, with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. He walks you backwards into the room and shuts the door behind him.

You two stay like that for a while. The emotions overtake you and you begin to cry quietly into his chest. He doesn’t say anything. Instead he rubs your back in slow soothing circles, allowing you to let it all out.

When you stop crying, you pull your face away. It’s hard to look at him. Very few people have ever seen you cry, but something about him calmed every nerve in your body. When you finally lock eyes, Matt cups your face and brushes your tears away with his thumbs before planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks. 

“It’s my mom,” you sniffle. “She was here when I got back and she was drugged out of her mind. I didn’t realize how bad it was until she stopped breathing.” Tears begin to fill your eyes again. “I had to call 911 and they took her to the hospital. I don’t know if she’s gonna make it or if she’s gonna be okay.” By this point you’re sobbing, unable to hold back again. “I have work soon and the kids are at camp and I don’t know what to do.” 

He pulls you back into a tight hug. “Everything’s going to be okay, stray. I’m gonna make it all better,” He coos as he runs his fingers through your hair. Matt gives you all the time you need to calm down. 

Afterwards, he has you sit on the kid’s bed while he gets you tissues, cleans up the room and grabs your purse. The room looks like nothing ever happened as the two of you leave. Matt has you wait in his truck while he tells Jeff you can’t work today. The drives to the trailer park, but parks a little further away so the kids don’t see you. He tells Linda and Scout the situation and they promise to keep the kids as long as you need. The next stop is the hospital, where you two sit in the waiting room for any updates. 

“It’s my fault she’s here,” you say out loud into the empty waiting room.

“Stray, that’s not true.” Matt says. “You didn’t stick that needle in her arm, she did.”

“I know, but I should have noticed something was wrong earlier,” You feel tears coming back.  You slam the back of your head against the wall in frustration. 

“Hey, listen to me,” Matt says, looking you in the eye as he grabs your hands in his.

“Your parent’s decisions are not your burden. You do the best you can with the cards you’re dealt. None of this is your fault.”

Before you can respond, two police officers walk into the room. They want to ask you a few questions about what happened. You explain the situation for what feels like the fifteenth time, but it’s not as hard with Matt by your side. 

“Do any children live at the residence?”

“Yes, my two siblings.”

Did the kids have access to these drugs?”

“No”

“Who is their guardian?”

“My mom and dad.”

“Where’s your father?”

“I don’t know.”

The cops shake their heads and you can just tell they’re judging you. 

“Miss, we find it concerning that there are children living in a motel who are being exposed to drugs. One of their guardians is not in the picture and the other is in the hospital. We’re going to have to forward this information to CPS.”

No. Not that, anything but that. 

“Officer, I’m the one that takes care of them. Please believe me when I say they don’t have access to drugs,” you try to convince them. 

“It’s out of our hands now, we have to forward this information when we feel like children are in danger. If you want to get ahead of the situation, get a better place to live and get sole custody of those kids.” They walk away after giving you the only helpful piece of information you’ve gotten all day. 

Worry starts to boil over in your system. You can’t let CPS take your siblings. They’d get put into foster care and who knows where they’d end up. There’s no way in hell you’d let that happen. 

You cover your face with your hands, resting your elbows on your knees. You’re overwhelmed with thoughts and you feel emotionally drained. Matt rubs circles on your back again, trying to comfort you. You lean on his shoulder, feeling defeated. 

“We’ll make it happen. I promise. Those kids aren’t going anywhere,” Matt assures you. 

A nurse walks into the waiting room next. “Miss, I have an update about your mother.”

You stand up and Matt follows. “Is she okay?”

“She’s stable, but still unconscious. We have to run some more tests. The lack of oxygen to her brain after her heart stopped poses some concerns. We’ll update you as soon as we have more news. For now, you should go home.”

After she leaves, you find yourself clinging onto Matt again, exhausted and mentally drained. He rests his chin on the top of your head as he hugs you back. “I’m gonna make everything okay, stray. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” He nuzzles into you know. “I’ll take care of you.”

edit: this song cannot get out of my head after finishing this part. listen after reading if possible. it just personifies matt's perspective perfectly.

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You knew not to test your luck—knew what would happen when you’re alone with him hours later, but you continued anyway. Your hand kept wandering before his larger one caught your wrist, and when you looked at Matt, he was already staring (more like glaring) at you, jaw tight and pupils clearly dilated.

He looked furious.

"What?" You asked, smiling innocently like your hand wasn’t resting dangerously close to his boner, only stopped by his hand gripping your wrist tightly, but not tight enough to be painful.

Matt almost—almost—smirked at your audacity as you played the innocent card, but the frustration burning in him won over any amusement or desire, his voice tight as he whispered quietly enough that only you could hear him. "Baby, enough. We’re in public and Chris and Nick will see."

Maybe you should’ve listened to him. You really should have.

But what did you do instead?

You simply smirked and let your pinky brush against his boner teasingly, watching his breath get caught in his throat, chest heaving slightly with deep breaths as he tried to keep himself in control and not pounce on you right then and there.

"Keep fucking testing me, sweetheart. Keep doing that shit and see where it’ll get you." Matt whispered, tone showing that his patience was running low, his grip tightening ever so slightly on your wrist.

You didn’t realize it then, but the damage had already been done. He let go of your wrist but he’d gone quiet, already planning what to do with you when you two were back at your place. If only you knew what you’d just started, but you were laughing on the inside seeing him get that worked up.

After dinner, You slid into the backseat with Nick to your talk but also to avoid Matt since you knew you had gone and pissed him off beyond belief. He didn’t show it though, that he was annoyed as fuck and still sporting a hard-on. Pretending like everything was okay, he talked to Chris and even laughed with him.

You almost thought his anger had worn off.

But after dropping Chris and Nick off at their house, Matt was finally alone with you, the air heavy with tension.

And now, sitting in the backseat of his car alone with the only sound filling the space between you two being the low hum of the engine as he drove, you begin to realize you may be doomed. But your mind is already wandering as you watch him drive in silence. He looks so good right now, all mad and quiet, only one hand on the wheel and the other propped on the center console.

Matt’s jaw works as he glances at you through the rearview mirror, eyes dark and piercing, before looking back at the road, not saying anything but his silence is enough to tell you that you should’ve just listened to him when he told you to stop and behave.

He’s so quiet that it’s starting to make you fidget uncomfortably in the backseat, preferring to look at the passing trees and buildings through the window rather than your boyfriend. Even though you’re starting to feel a teeny tiny bit of guilt for making him so stressed today, you can’t help the way his quiet anger soaks your panties in arousal.

It’s the main reason why you act like a brat towards him. It turns you on, how he looks when he’s irritated, how he acts—like he’s dying to get you alone and put you in your place. And God, do you enjoy the sex when he’s not in a good mood. He fucks you like he hates you—unlike how sweet he is in bed usually.

When he pulls over in the parking lot below your apartment complex, he speaks gruffly while taking off his seatbelt. "Get out." You can’t help but squeeze your thighs together at the way he’s talking to you, and you comply quickly, getting out of his car with your mini bag slung over one shoulder.

Matt can’t lie, you look too pretty to be acting the way you acted today, but you’d really tested his patience, too. He really tried to keep himself calm, but it was hard to do so with you either snapping at him or teasing him mercilessly.

The elevator ride is quiet except for the sound of it ascending up towards your floor. Matt’s still awfully quiet as he waits for you to walk out when the door opens, keeping a gentle hand on your lower back like the gentleman he is despite how he’s going to act otherwise when he’s got you sprawled out on your bed.

He doesn’t pounce on you when you walk inside your apartment like you thought he would, instead, he takes his time—almost like he’s savoring every ounce of the tension in the air. He pulls you towards your bedroom without a word, closing the door behind you both.

"Get on the bed, clothes off." He commands, voice awfully calm and almost flat, no signs of his anger anywhere. Huh, weird.

You comply quickly, almost embarrassingly quickly, pulling off your clothes and sitting down on your bed, waiting for him to do something about your attitude. Your panties lay soaked on the floor, and his eyes dart towards it before looking back at you, the faintest smirk on his lips.

"So fucking wet, aren’t you?" He begins walking towards you, voice laced with that condescending tone that makes your stomach flip and core ooze with slick.

Matt’s hand reaches out and grips your jaw when he’s finally standing in front of you, making you look up at him. "I know what you’re doing, sweetheart." He murmurs, his smirk widening at the sight of you already unraveling at his touch and words.

"You’re doing this shit on purpose," he accuses, "trynna make me fuck you until you’re forced to remember my dick when you sit down. I know you. I know exactly what gets you going."

Your breath hitches at his words, and he notices. He always does. It seems to fuel his determination to put you in your place, to treat you like the brat you are. So he does just that, sitting down beside you and pulling you so you’re draped across his lap, ignoring the sound of your surprise.

"You’re gonna count for me, ’kay?" Matt coos, knowing damn well his tone and words are contrasting starkly from each other.

You barely manage a nod before you feel a sharp slap against one of your ass cheeks, making you jolt and gasp. He holds you down on his lap, not letting you escape his hand planting firm slaps on your ass.

smack!

"One...! — smack! — Two....! — smack! — Three...! Matt- ahn! — smack! — Four...! — smack! — Five...! — smack! — S-six...!" You keep counting, whimpering in between, squirming on his lap—but also growing wetter. The line between pain and pleasure blurs, and soon enough, Matt notices your pussy beginning to—actually—ooze your pussy juices onto his jean clad thigh.

"Look at that..." Matt breathes out, in awe as he watches your cunt drool. "Look at you soaking wet from this, like a fucking slut."

Matt slowly drags his fingers down your slit, feeling his fingertips coat with your arousal. You can feel how hard he is from the way his bulge is digging into your side, throbbing with each heartbeat, twitching in the confinement of his jeans.

A breathy gasp leaves you when you felt two of his digits sink into your wet heat without any warning, knuckles deep, and God does he have long fingers. You lose your train of thought as he begins moving them in and out of you, slowly but purposely curling them down so he’d rub against that spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back in pleasure.

"Riight there... Feels good, sweetheart?" Matt taunts, his free hand grabbing a handful of your ass before slapping it sharply, making you tighten around his digits. "Use your words. Tell me how much you love my fingers."

"I l-love-" You try to speak, but Matt cruelly fucks your pussy faster with his fingers, pressing a hand on your lower back so you won’t be able to move away even if you tried. One of your hands reaches back towards him to clutch onto his wrist, your other hand gripping his pant leg for dear life.

The lewd, wet squelching noises of his fingers slipping in and out of your drenched pussy is deafening, blending in with your desperate moans and Matt’s low grunts. His dick throbs insistently against his clothes, reacting to the smell of your arousal and the sounds your pussy is making.

"Too much, baby?" He coos even though he’s not slowing down, matter of fact, his thumb presses against your clit, moving his digits expertly, knowing exactly what makes you unravel. "Too fucking bad. Should’ve thought twice before you decided to act like a brat."

You can feel your orgasm approaching, that intense pleasurable high about to explode throughout your entire body. Matt can feel it, too, thanks to your pussy squeezing him like a vice as your muscles ripples around his fingers. And just as you’re about to feel that euphoric feeling, Matt’s fingers slip out of your cunt with a wet sound.

You whine, a desperate sound clawing out of your throat, as you feel your orgasm stop abruptly, the emptiness making you clench around nothing but air in desperate spasms. Your breathing is ragged, still whimpering softly from the leftover pleasure burning in your core.

"Since you wanted to be a brat so badly," He murmurs, voice that low rumble whenever he’s had enough. "I’m gonna fuck you like one."

You’re manhandled onto the bed, flopping down onto your back unceremoniously, your legs immediately clamping shut when you feel the cool air hit your wet and sensitive private parts.

"Ah, ah," Matt tuts, large hands gripping your knees and spreading them apart roughly. "Keep ’em open, juust like that... Good girl."

His eyes, dark and predatory, roam over your disheveled state; your hair’s a mess, pussy leaking with arousal like a bitch in heat, eyelids heavy, chest heaving with ragged breaths, and lips red and swollen from you biting them.

Pulling off his shirt overhead, he messes up his already messy hair further. You’re so sure you can feel your pulse in your pussy as you stare at Matt—at how delicious he looks right now.

Matt’s hands trail down your legs slowly, watching you shiver under his delicate touch. You almost beg him to take his dick out of his pants before he (thankfully) does just that, releasing his thick, heavy cock—long and veiny. He pulls down his pants and boxers just enough before gripping himself from the base and tugging at his cock a few times, gaze zeroed in on your pussy.

You jolt and whimper when Matt slaps his cock head against your pussy a few times, making wet slapping noises that have your cheeks burning. Running his head through your folds, he groans at the warm, sticky fluid coating his shaft, making it easier to grind against you.

When he enters, he doesn’t go fast like you expected, he pushes inside painfully slowly—enough for you to feel him stretch your tight walls to accommodate his big dick. He sinks into you until his hips are almost flush against yours, grinding his hips to stuff you full of his thick meat, until you’re gasping at the way his tip is pressing insistently against your cervix.

Matt draws his hips back, watching your eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his thick, veiny cock dragging across your velvet-like walls. Hooking his arms under your knees, he props his hands on either side of your torso, folding you slightly and making it easier for him for fuck you deep.

Your eyes snap open and jaw go slack when he slams back inside, stealing your breath away. Your hands scramble to hold onto his forearms as he sets a slow but deep pace. It messes with your head, his thrusts. You can feel every inch of him, every fucking inch slide in and out of you.

And whenever he slams back into you, it’s like he’s punishing you by hitting your cervix, hard. The pain and pleasure blends together and becomes something so overwhelming tears spring to your eyes. Holding on for dear life is all you can do, gasping for air and barely able to moan, this might just be the best he’s ever fucked you.

"Fuuck-- Look at you... You love how good it hurts, yeah? Can feel your womb kissing my tip... She fucking loves this dick." He lets out an airy chuckle at the way you’re clutching onto him, those pretty eyes looking into his dark ones all tear-filled. "Yeah... you crying? Feels too good, huh?"

All you can manage is a choked moan, eyes rolling back slightly, nails digging into his arms. He pushes your legs off his shoulders and instead wraps one around his waist, changing the angle slightly. The new angle makes you shift on the bed, back arching with a soft cry.

"Keep making those sweet sounds while I fuck this pretty little pussy." Matt’s hand wraps around your throat, not choking you completely but enough to make it challenging to breathe. His other hand holds your thigh firmly against his waist, keeping that perfect angle that has you seeing stars.

He’s not just hitting your cervix now, his thick head is dragging against that spongy spot in your front wall with each thrust, and you can barely take the pleasure, going completely speechless for a second as your eyes roll back into your skull. Matt’s hand tightens around your neck at the sight in front of him.

The way your pussy is swallowing his fat cock whole while squeezing it like it can’t get enough and wants to keep him inside you forever is making him throb, balls drawing up tight. He’s grunting and groaning above you, not even trying to be quiet, showing exactly how good your pussy feels.

"You close? Think you deserve to come?" Matt murmurs breathlessly, leaning down, his soft pants making his chest heave. His hand leaves your thigh and instead presses into the mattress beside your head to prop himself up, his hips slapping against yours with wet “plaps”. "C’mon, fucking look at me—mhn—and tell me. Do you deserve to come?"

You try your best to say something, you really do try, but the feeling of him fucking you so good paired with his hand around your throat makes it harder to speak—let alone think. And all that comes out of your mouth are sounds of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

"Look at you—mmhn—gone—shit—fucking speechless... haahh..." Matt taunts, his chain glistening in the sunlight filtering in through the haphazardly closed blinds. He looks so good right now, and the sight is making you tighten around him more, eliciting a hiss from him.

His pace quickens slightly, muttering breathlessly under his breath like he’s about to unravel too. "Fuuck... trynna suffocate me with your pussy, sweetheart? ’Cause she’s—mmhn-ah—killing me here..." His pace falters slightly, abs clenching, biceps flexing and veins becoming more prominent than ever. "Yeah... keep- ffuck- keep doing that shit- bruise my dick, baby."

Matt knows he won’t last much longer with you clenching around his dick like that, so he decides to just let you come. "Open that fucking mouth," he commands, watching you obey slowly. He spits in your mouth, watching his saliva land on your tongue. "Swallow it... Good girl... Good fucking girl."

He leans down to kiss you messily, spit mixing together, hips still moving against your like a machine. His tongue tangles with yours, licking your teeth, biting your lips. That taut feeling in your stomach is reaching the breaking point, about to explode—and Matt feels it, feels your pussy spasming around him as your breaths turn into gasps.

He lets go of your throat and instead reaches down to rub your clit roughly with his thumb, your slick making everything slippery. Your nails dig into his back, your eyes rolling back briefly, beginning to feel that taut feeling in your stomach dissipate slowly, dissolving into waves of pleasure.

"I’m coming- f-fuck- Matt- fuck- m’cummin’--" You're barely able to warn him before your pussy squeezes him even tighter—if that’s even possible—pulsing rhythmically around his thick meat. The feeling of your tight pussy milking him makes his balls tighten, his own orgasm not too far behind.

Matt puts you into mating press before you can even catch your breath, legs pushed back, knees almost touching your shoulders, pussy in full display for him. He starts fucking you again almost immediately. Faster. Deeper. His cock plunges in and out of you as he presses his weight against you to keep you in place.

"You want my cum, baby? Fuck... Want me to fill you up?" He pants above you, groaning and grunting as he fucks you like he’s trying to break you, or breed you—or both. He’s going so deep that you swear you can feel him in your chest, knocking the wind out of your lungs with each deep thrust.

He stares down at your glazed over eyes and dazed expression, nothing but gasps and loud moans and whimpers leaving you; you’re clearly too far gone to even think anymore, just focused on the immense pleasure mixed with pain that Matt’s giving you right now.

You whimper and nod frantically, babbling something incoherent about wanting him to cum inside you and make you a mommy. The sound of you begging him to fill you up and make you all swollen with his babies paired with the sight of you so fucked out from his dick pushes him over the edge, and he shudders above you, stilling after a few rough thrusts.

He grinds his hips against yours, panting, eyes closed, making sure every rope of hot cum stays deep inside you. His pearly release paints your walls, and the warmth of his cum inside you adds to the intimacy as his eyes flutter open and lips meet yours in a soft dance.

"Love you... I love you so fucking much, sweetheart..." Matt murmurs against your lips, his eyes soft as he looks down at you. Something about the duality of him being so sweet after fucking that attitude out of you will forever be attractive to you.

"I love you too..." You whisper back, voice slightly hoarse from moaning so much. You watch Matt’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles down at you, chuckling softly.

"Okay, pretty, let’s get you cleaned up. And then we can cuddle and watch some movies. I’ll be right back." Matt kisses you gently, quickly, and slowly pulls out, both of you hissing softly at the sensitivity.

And when he settles beside you after helping you clean up and putting on some clothes himself, you can’t help but imagine the next time you’ll purposely annoy him just to get fucked like that.

Yeah... You’re never gonna learn.

And Matt will never say no to putting you in your place.

© 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒏

⟡ 𝟑.𝟑𝒌 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 ⸝⸝ 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆!

another few weeks pass, and this time, it’s a tiny bit more manageable. the only downside is that chris’ team loses in the championship game, resulting in another rough defeat for the seniors. 

he’s pissed as all can be when the final buzzer sounds, blaming the loss on poor calls and blatant favoritism from the refs. you do notice a few questionable calls, but don’t believe that the game was rigged in any way—although you don't mention that when meeting chris outside in the parking lot afterwards, knowing that he was just having a difficult time accepting how things ended. 

“hey,” you call out, stepping onto the curb by the bus.

he looks surprised, like he wasn’t expecting you to be there, “why are you still here?” 

a shrug, voice low as the basketball players huddle onto the bus, “honestly, i don’t know.” 

you start to regret your decision at the look that crosses his face, feeling more and more like a stalker as the seconds tick on. 

“you drive two hours for a state championship game that doesn’t involve you, watch a two hour game, and then stay after for forty-five minutes knowing that you have a long ride home….why?” he looks genuinely confused, eyebrows pinching together. 

it seems a lot more insane laid out like that, “i mean, it does involve me. school spirit and all,” you try to joke away the tension.

thankfully, it works. his next words come around a breathy laugh, head inching back towards the night sky, “i didn’t even go to districts for your team, and it was a home game.” 

“yeah that’s kinda really rude, chris,” it’s light, and then without thinking, “didn’t even sign my pity card either.” 

something flashes across his face, lips pulled into a line, “didn’t think you’d want me to.” 

“why wouldn’t i want you to?” its whispered. 

“i don’t know, i—“ he gets called to the bus before he can say anything else, eyes squeezing closed, “shit, sorry. i gotta get these kids home before eleven, school night and all.” 

you try not to let the hurt show, nodding quickly, “no, yeah, totally,” a smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes, “drive safe. you guys played well.”

“mhm thanks for coming, drive safely,” he backpedals as he says it, and you stay standing there until his figure disappears on to the bus.

the next morning you’re greeted with a small basket on your desk. there’s no note, just a barnes and noble gift card with various stationary odds and ends. 

you don’t mention anything to chris, but you do leave a bag of his favorite chocolates on his desk that following monday as a thank you and peace offering. 

the feeling around school is still solemn for some time after that, but the announcement of the winter social brings spirits up just a tad. the hallways fill with posters of students running for ice king and ice queen, candy grahams passed around in hopes of gaining the votes of fellow students. 

it’s a nice contrast to the previous sulking atmosphere, and you can tell that your volleyball players specifically are relieved to finally have something positive to shift their focus on. 

one of your senior girls is running for ice queen, and she’d been using her lunch to design posters in your room—taking full advantage of your unlimited printer access and colorful construction paper.

you weren’t sure if you were even allowed to supply those things to her, but you let it slide since emotions were still high from the conclusion of the season. it was your way of saying ‘thank you for being such an amazing player and sorry i couldn’t further showcase your skills at states.’ 

you’d like to think that winning ice queen would fill whatever hole that ending her volleyball career with a loss left. it was silly to think, sure, but you’d take the over if it helped you sleep at night. 

another week of campaigning passes until the winter social is right around the corner. you get asked to chaperone the dance—make sure there’s no inappropriate dancing or sneaky vapes brought to the venue. 

you pull out a dress that compliments your body for the occasion, hair pinned back into a half up half down style. it wasn’t anything fancy, but you looked good. school appropriate of course, you just couldn’t remember the last time you actually put effort into your appearance like this, usually wearing simple, comfortable clothing to teach in and athletic wear to breathe during practices. 

the lights are dim when you arrive early to help set up, and that’s when you notice that chris is also there. he’s dressed in a form fitting suit, hair messy yet somehow it works with the look. you have to force yourself to stop staring multiple times throughout the night, busying yourself by conversing with other staff of the school.

you weren’t ignoring him by any means, just wanted him to be the first one to initiate conversation. sometime after the ice king and queen are announced, he finally takes the hint.

“they deserved to win that,” his voice is slightly elevated to be heard over the music, hip leaning against the drink table. 

you agree with a hum, punch spilling into your glass, “i was hoping they’d win too. she’s been spending all her lunches in my classroom decorating posters and using my canva subscription for her stories.”

chris shakes his head, “i think he made a few elementary level posters and called it a day honestly.”

the cup is brought to your mouth now, hand wiping away the punch that falls down your chin. you catch the way chris’ eyes follow the trail, lingering on your lips even as you speak, “well either way, kinda cute that both of our players were crowned. even if one did all the work.” 

it’s quiet for a moment after that, both of you taking the time to examine the students dancing on the floor. you hadn’t seen any inappropriate touching or wandering hands, thank god, so it was calming to watch everyone have a good time. 

chris clears his throat when the song changes into something slower, leaning closer but keeping his eyes forward, “that dress looks good on you, by the way. been meaning to tell you that all night.” 

you’re thankful that the dim lighting hides your blush, eyes flicking to the side of his face momentarily, “thank you. you look really nice too.” 

the corners of his lips upturn, feet shuffling underneath him, “i guess your lunches being occupied explains why i haven’t been seeing you around much though. thought you were still ignoring me.”

you meet eyes now, “you were the one ignoring me.” 

“i mean, with reason,” his fingers fidget with the collar of his button up. 

your gaze lingers on his neck, “i’m sorry i freaked out.” 

he stares forward again, voice softer, “don’t be. it was a lot to take in.” 

you follow his eyes, shoulders dropping with a sigh, “i did have a good time if it makes any difference,” a small laugh then, “your house is very cozy and welcoming.” 

he matches your laugh but it sounds a little bit anxious, “you should come over after this if you don’t have any plans then, it’s even cozier when there’s no snowstorm out.”

you let the words settle in the air, heart thumping against your chest. it wasn’t something you were opposed to, but you didn’t know if you could trust yourself not to react in the same way that you had before. 

you feel his gaze on the side of your face, “obviously not like that,” he clarifies, “just an actual friendly co-worker hangout. no wine involved this time.” 

your eyebrows raise as you speak, nails tapping against the plastic cup in your hand, “but what if the wine makes you more enjoyable to be around?”

his head throws back with a laugh at that, elbow bumping into your bicep, “maybe we can just inhale the wine at a slower rate this time.” 

you nod against your better judgment, trusting yourself to think logically later tonight, “sounds like a plan.” 

it was just co-workers getting together after work. nothing more, nothing less. you had nothing to worry about—right?

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