#!corruption

matt steps inside. the scent of him is distinct—the crisp bite of his cologne softened by warmth, a trace of sweat mingling with something deeper, something unmistakably him—the lingering ghost of his day spent in court. a war fought in words instead of fists, but the same brutality thrumming under his skin.

“come here, sweetie.” his voice is warm, rich, and deep, but there’s something wry curling at the edges, amusement at how quickly you’ve come to greet him. like a puppy.

he sets his cane and briefcase aside, and then his hands are on you, catching you as you all but jump into his arms. you’re naked, pressed to the solid heat of him, your bare skin soaking in every bit of residual warmth from his day.

“eager,” he murmurs against your temple, a hint of reprimanding. his lips find yours and you sigh into him, hands grasping at his jacket, your lips parting for him before he even has to coax them open.

matt tastes like bourbon and the city. something heady and thick, the bitterness of old liquor still clinging to his tongue as it slides against yours.

“missed me, huh?” his hand cups the back of your head.

your hands slide down, over the firm planes of his stomach, over his belt, until your palm cups the bulge at the front of his slacks.

his grip tightens.

you let out a small sound of surprise, breathless as he pulls you closer, as he walks you back a step, then another. there’s a bite to his touch now, a shift in the way his mouth moves against yours.

he breaks the kiss with a soft, amused hum, his hand patting your bare bottom. “you wait for me like this?” he asks, voice thick with something between fondness and amusement.

“mhm,” you whine, baby-soft. 

and he knows what you want, your hand still placed insistently over his cock.

he chuckles, dry.

“come on. to the couch.”

heat licks up your spine at the command, and you don’t even hesitate. you turn on wobbly legs, making your way over. he settles into the cushions with an ease that’s almost lazy. obediently, you kneel between his legs. your body hums with anticipation, mouth watering before he even touches you.

he sighs, dragging a hand through his hair, his other resting on his lap, thumb stroking at your chin. “eager, aren’t we?”

“wanna cum, matt,” you whimper, impatient having waited all day like he’d asked.

he hums, seemingly contemplative, tapping your cheek twice. “then you have a job to do first, don’t you?”

“and we go slow. ah-ah, hands in your lap.”

“go on.”

you duck your head, letting him guide you forward with a hand in your hair, your lips parting as you nuzzle against his growing cock beneath the fabric. you mouth at it softly at first, dragging your tongue over the intoxicating shape of him.

matt hums. his fingers tighten, muttering something under his breath, something that sounds like ‘—good for me.’ 

you tilt your head up, chin pressing against him. your mouth parts, lips open, pink tongue resting there like an invitation.

he unfastens his belt with one hand, the metal clinking softly. his cock is half hard when he frees it, flushed and thick, the tip gleaming. your stomach tightens at the sight, and you instinctively start to reach—

his hand yanks your hair back, softly.

“ah-ah. what’d i say.”

his grip loosens, rubbing small circles against your scalp like an apology, but his voice stays firm. “in your lap.”

you obey immediately, folding them neatly in front of you, thighs squeezing together as you breathe through the ache of needing to touch him, needing to feel him.

and then he’s guiding himself to your lips, pressing the swollen head against your tongue. you immediately suckle, greedy, like it’s instinct.

he groans, low in his throat, hand tightening in your hair.

“god—”

but you don’t want to go slow. you want him now, want him deep—

his grip tightens suddenly, pulling you back just an inch, just enough to make you whine, blinking up at him with glazed, pleading eyes.

he smirks.

“eager thing,” he murmurs, and then he taps the head of his cock against your tongue, light, patronizing. “slow down. or this is going to be over in thirty seconds.”

his tone is even, patient, but you can feel the tension in his body, in the way his muscles cord under his skin, the way his breath shudders slightly when you swirl your tongue over the tip.

he lets you sink down slowly, guiding your movements with a firm grip in your hair, controlling how much you take, how fast, how deep. at first, he’s merciful, letting you adjust, letting you savor the weight of him on your tongue. but it doesn’t last.

his pace picks up, and suddenly he’s using your mouth the way he wants, the way he needs, pushing you down, holding you there until your throat flutters wet and constricts around him, then pulling you back up only to do it again.

“there we go,” he croons, dark.

your nails dig into your thighs, knuckles white. he’s panting above you, abs tensing, there’s a little stutter in his hips when you swallow around him.

and then, in a moment of desperation, you forget yourself—you reach up, fingers grasping at his thigh—

he yanks you off with a wet, obscene pop.

you cough wetly, drool slicking your chin. his cock glistens with your spit, a trail of saliva connecting to your lips.

he tuts, shaking his head slowly, thumb wiping the mess from your cheek before gripping your jaw.

“hands.”

your hands fly back into your lap.

“and—breathe, sweetheart.” a pause. then, more amused, “so desperate you forgot to, huh?”

“messy thing,” he mutters, almost in awe, with praise. “but you’re trying so hard for me.”

you lean into his touch, nuzzling against his palm, pressing small kisses to the base of his thumb. he chuckles, shaking his head.

he allows you forward again, your mouth closing around his cock again.

you take more and more of him until your throat tightens, until your breath catches. he groans, the sound deep and approving, and then his grip tightens, guiding you down further, until your nose brushes the well-groomed base of him, until he can feel your throat fluttering—wet and tight—around him.

and then as if speaking about you partly to himself—

“you can take more. relax.”

he says it like fact, not encouragement. like he knows your limits better than you do.

your throat protests, gagging as you try to take more. you whimper, the noise muffled.

he holds you there. just for a moment. just long enough for your lungs to protest. he groans dark, ragged, wild.

you spasm around him, pleasure sparking at the warmth of his approval, at the weight of him on your tongue, at the way he moves you—slow at first, letting you adjust, but then—

—and then his hips roll up, forcing you to take more, forcing you to gag on it, and you gasp, hands flying up on instinct, grasping at his thighs for leverage—

he yanks you off with yet another wet pop. you sputter saliva this time.

“maybe you need a little help relaxing.”

his voice is smooth but there’s something underneath it. something that makes your stomach clench with anticipation.

he reaches for the glass sitting on the side table—a deep, amber whiskey, rich and smoky.

“take a sip.”

you hesitate, just a second. but then he’s pressing the rim against your mouth, tipping it just enough for the first taste to roll over your tongue. the burn is sharp, spilling heat down your throat in one searing rush. you cough, blinking against the sting as the fire spreads through your chest.

his cock slides nudges your lips, a silent command. you open up, still dazed from the whiskey burning its way through your blood. your mouth is slick, your throat relaxed, but your head feels light, your skin hot, every nerve humming.

when he pulls you up again, the rim of the glass is waiting at your lips.

matt hums, low, approving when you sip and cough again. “swallow. there you go.”

but he’s listening. the quick flutter of your pulse beneath his fingers, the way your throat flexes, adjusting. his grip slides to your jaw, thumb pressing just below the hinge, feeling the way your muscles tighten, relax.

“good girl,” he croons, tilting your chin up. “breathe.”

you exhale shakily, warm and tinged with whiskey. he catches it, head tilting slightly, inhaling deep. he knows exactly how much has hit your bloodstream already, how it’s settling into your limbs.

not yet.

his cock drags against your parted lips. your breath stutters, but you take him deeper, no jittering, no clumsy struggle. just your lips sealing around him, the wet heat of your mouth drawing him in, deeper, deeper—

he exhales sharply, grip flexing against your scalp. “that’s it.”

another breath of air. another sip.

then he’s guiding you back down. the taste of whiskey still lingers, coating your tongue, blending with the salt of his skin, the deep musk of him.

he keeps feeding you. keeps fucking your mouth. his rhythm stays slow, but the weight of him presses deeper, nudging against the back of your throat.

another breath of air. another sip.

until—

hic.

your throat spasms, a sudden jolt, and your whole body tenses involuntarily. you choke, a wet, desperate sound, and his grip tightens immediately, yanking you back just enough to keep you from losing it completely.

he listens. assesses. tracks the way your muscles have slackened.

then he exhales sharply through his nose.

you’re at your limit.

he sets the whiskey aside. you blink up at him, lips slick, pupils blown wide. his palm cradles your jaw, tilting your chin up, thumb pressing lightly against your throat, feeling your pulse hammer under his touch.

“proud of you.” his voice is softer now.

—

your head lolls, time slipping, shifting. the heat changes—no longer burning, but pooling low, pulling you under.

you moan, before you realize you’re sitting astride matt’s bare thigh, your hips rocking helplessly against the hard, warm muscle beneath you.

“there you go,” he murmurs, voice rough like gravel. his palms slide slowly up your sides, calloused thumbs dragging against your skin, making you shiver. “easy does it.”

matt’s chest is bare beneath your grasping fingers, muscles slicked lightly with sweat, the thin sheen catching the dim glow of the city lights filtering through the window. his breath fans warm across your collarbone, mouth pressing open, hungry kisses along the curve of your throat. his tongue drags lazily against your skin, leaving hot, wet trails.

“that's it, sweetheart, keep moving just like that,” matt murmurs roughly against your jaw, chuckling softly. his calloused hands roam over your body with unapologetic roughness. his fingers dig into your hips, controlling your rhythm, dragging you forward then back, helping you ride his thigh in slow, torturous strokes.

“messy,” he says, amusement lacing his voice. you inhale deeply, dizzy from the scent of him—the crisp, fading spice of his cologne mingled now with sweat, whiskey, and a sharp, masculine heat that’s uniquely matt.

his thumb drags roughly over your nipple, rolling it and you jolt against him, thighs squeezing tighter around the solid muscle of his thigh. matt chuckles darkly.

“feel good, baby?” he whispers, tone playful. “grind a little harder.”

he punctuates the tease by sliding his hand down, thumb swirling slowly—achingly slowly—around your puffy clit. you sob his name.

“good girl,” matt whispers, breath brushing your mouth now, lips close enough that you can taste him already—bourbon and salt.

your fingers clutch at his shoulders, nails leaving faint marks in their wake. matt’s throat bobs visibly when you say his name. his silver cross glints faintly, catching your eye as his pulse visibly thrums in his neck, an oddly hypnotic rhythm that matches your pounding heartbeat.

you moan into his mouth, and then he’s kissing you, hard and deep, tongue sliding into your mouth. you’re pant against him, tasting the whiskey and him.

“open up more,” he orders softly. “give me that tongue.”

his kisses turn filthier, sloppier, tongues sliding messily, sharing air and saliva in languid motion.

his cock remains achingly erect against your thigh, flushed dark and slick with precum, twitching slightly whenever you move, smearing wet heat against your skin. you moan softly, almost dizzy from how badly you want him, how desperately you crave him filling you.

“matt—” you whisper, your voice rough.

his beard scratches gently against your skin. you whine softly into the kiss, hips grinding down harder, wetter, messier against his thigh, slick smearing everywhere as you chase the friction desperately. he pats your bottom in reassurance.

“soon. i promise.”

his palms slide roughly over your ass, kneading, pulling you tighter against him, until your swollen clit drags deliciously against his thigh. you’re so wet, slick smearing onto his skin, every movement sending sharp jolts of pleasure through your thighs. your breaths mingle harshly, sloppy kisses punctuated by panting, gasping.

“come on, sweetheart,” matt grunts against your mouth. “ride like you mean it—make me believe it.”

“m-matt,” you babble, hips stuttering.

then suddenly, you’re in the air—his hands gripping beneath your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, his strength an unshakable force even as your limbs go boneless. you let out a strangled gasp, thighs spreading around his waist as he maneuvers you exactly where he wants you, hovering over his cock, the swollen head pressing right against your entrance—so close, so close, but not enough.

“you want this, don’t you?” his grip tightens at your waist, fingers digging into overheated skin, holding you there, keeping you on that unbearable brink. his voice is so steady, so controlled, so infuriatingly patient despite the way his cock twitches beneath you.

“tell me, y/n. use your words.”

you whimper, clinging to his shoulders like they’re the only thing keeping you grounded. your whole body is pleading for him—every nerve singing, every muscle drawn so tight you think you might break if he doesn’t fill you now.

“please,” you sob, desperate, voice breaking as you writhe in his hold. “please, matt—need you inside—now—pleaseplease.”

the growl that rumbles from his chest is low and wrecked, his restraint snapping.

he thrusts up, driving into you in one rough, unrelenting motion, forcing you to take all of him at once. the stretch is instant, a deep, overwhelming fullness, punching the air from your lungs as he buries himself to the hilt.

you cry out, your body locking up, pleasure detonating like fire licking up your spine. the coil inside you snaps violently, your orgasm crashing over you, white-hot and unrelenting. you clench down hard around him, the spasms ripping through you in sharp, overwhelming waves.

matt doesn’t let up.

his grip on your waist tightens, holding you down against him as he grinds deeper, forcing you to feel every inch of him while you shatter. his hips roll up and up, dragging out every pulse, every aftershock.

“fuck,” he grits out, voice strained, control slipping, his hips snapping up harder, grinding against that devastating spot inside you that sends another wrecked, broken cry spilling from your lips.

he thrusts again, deeper, and then he’s gone—his body locking up beneath you, fingers bruising into your waist as a sharp, guttural groan rips from his chest. you feel him jerk deep inside you, spilling into you hot and thick, burying himself as deep as he can go while pleasure rips through both of you.

—

the world filters back in slowly—your skin fever-warm, your breath mingling with his, your body still trembling in the aftershocks of pleasure. matt holds you through all of it, broad palms smoothing over your back, tracing slow, grounding patterns into your skin.

his chest rises and falls beneath you, deep, steady, anchoring. outside, his city hums—greenpoint’s quiet streets thick with the scent of late-night takeout, the distant rumble of a motorcycle slicing through the stillness. the east river laps at the docks, a steady metronome beneath the occasional buzz of passing cars.

then, a soft kiss to your temple.

“you with me?” matt murmurs, voice raw, worn down by pleasure but still so gentle.

you hum sleepily, nodding, but his fingers tip your chin up, waiting.

“yeah,” you murmur, voice hoarse. “yeah, ‘m here.”

his hands roam, softer now—tracing your spine, checking you, mapping you all over again.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he whispers. “let’s get you cleaned up.”

you groan in protest, clinging to him. “don’t wanna.”

he huffs a quiet laugh. but he doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away.

you nuzzle into his throat, pressing a lazy kiss there. his breath hitches, but his hands stay steady, one sliding into your hair, thumb stroking absently.

“you’re warm,” you mumble. “don’t need a bath. just need you.”

another deep inhale, another slow exhale.

“alright,” matt murmurs. “let’s stay like this a little longer, then.”

and so you do—wrapped up in him, safe, sated, time slowing to something softer. outside, his city keeps moving, slow and unbothered, streetlights flickering against old brick. but here, in his arms, the night stretches out like it belongs to you.

Again, he does not want you uncomfortable, so he understands why you would want to pull away the first few times in the beginning of the relationship. But as you two start to get deeper into the relationship, you start to shy away every single time his hands wander under your shirt or when he strips off his shirt. Kiyoomi was well aware of the fact that he was well built and attractive, years of volleyball training doing well on his body. But this is the first time he has ever felt insecure with his looks - was he just not attractive for you.

You were a beauty to him, so you should have high standards, it's only natural for you to find the best to date. And he was confident that he could be that for you, but never has he ever felt insecure about himself until now. Maybe he was not watching his mouth around you? Was that a turn off?

“K-Kiyoomi,” you whine softly and tug on his hair to pull him away. He took the gesture that you want to continue and kept sucking on your neck, biting gently into your sensitive skin. As your eyes shoot up, you gasp loud and tug harder on his hair till it feels painful to him. 

He hisses and pulls away and rubs the back of his head, about to tell you off a bit. He glances up to see the tears that filled up in your eyes. Frowning, he cuffs your cheeks and thumbs the soft flesh gently as he coos quietly at you.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“‘M sorry, Omi,” you flush bright red and try to look aways from his eyes, but his hands hold your face in place. There was nowhere else to look but directly at him. He didn’t even need to say anything, his eyes were already asking “What happened? What did I do wrong?” So there was no escaping the impending embarrassment you were about to face.

“I-I’m a virgin, Omi,” you flush even darker and close your eyes from Sakusa’s possible judgmental gaze, “Every time you touch me and kiss me like this, it’s just too much for me.”

Well this now all made sense why you shied away from him. It was just too much for your pure body, and you just couldn’t help but to feel so sensitive to his touch.

“It’s alright, angel. Don’t be embarrassed, we can take our time until you’re ready,” his hands trail from your cheeks and down to your waist. You visibly relax and hug him, snuggling into his neck as all the embarrassment leaves your body.

He can’t help but to think of all the things he could do to you right now. It was possible that he could flip you onto the bed and pin you down and make you take him, but that could wait another day. Just until you’re comfortable with him giving you even the smallest touches. 

To say it lightly, he is practically training you to his touch. Making his hands trail higher every time he feels up your thighs only to pull away last minute. It’s also very cute to him how you tense up, shivering under his light finger that tickles your bare skin. Only to relax when he pulls his hand away, but sending him a pout. 

Or he would pull you on his lap and place small, lingering kisses on your neck. Little nibbles would trail up to your ear, smirking as you are already putty on his lap. But rather than leaving Kiyoomi on edge, he does nothing to relieve you and says you aren’t ready yet. You would never expect him to be such a tease, leaving you high and dry.

It was never his intention to tease, only wanting for you to get used to him. But it was truly amusing to see you to watch you all squirmy on his lap. Each lingering touch makes you breathless, wishing you had more already.

But the most he has ever done was hold you on his lap, hand down your pants to toy with your clit. He loves when you whimper into his ears, telling him how good it is and how you need more. The most he has given you was a couple fingers into your dripping cunny, curling to massage the tightening walls. The feeling of you clamping around just his digits has him going light headed, imaging the thought of your tightening around his cock. 

Kiyoomi’s hands tighten on your hips, letting you rut helplessly on his thigh and suck on his tongue. He moans softly into your mouth, bouncing his knee to earn more pretty whines. He pulls away from your lip, about to end it here to preserve your innocence. In desperation, you grab his face to pull him back into the kiss which shocks him in the last minute. He indulges you in the kiss, deepening the kiss a bit to have you worked up.

“That’s it, angel. You’re not ready yet.” Kiyoomi hums and pats your ass, raising an eyebrow at you. You sniffle and pout at him, hitting his chest in frustration.

“I am ready, Kiyoomi! Please!” You huff out and pout, almost crying in front of him. He wasn’t prepared to see you all teary eyed while straddling his lap, just because he is denying you to preserve your innocence. He hums a bit and rubs up your bare thighs, squeezing them a bit.

“Really? You’re ready?” The condescending tone makes you wince a bit but you nod shyly, not looking directly at him. He grabs your chin and makes you look directly in his eyes, giving your questioning eyes.

“I-I am ready, I promise,” you sniffle out, giving him your sweetest eyes to convince him. He sighs a bit and brushes the hair out of your face, flipping you over onto the bed. Stripping off his shirts, he looks at you expectantly but you still shy away. He mumbles something about having to do all the work, but not complaining at all as he strips off your shirt for you. He unbuttons your shorts, sliding them off your legs to leave you in just your bra and panties.

“Gorgeous, gonna mark you a mine,” Sakusa mumbles and leans down to suck on your neck, gently biting into the sensitive skin. He loves how sensitive you are, already clinging to his shoulders from the little nibbles and pressing little crescents into the prominent muscle. His large hands snake under your back and toy with the hook, glancing up at you to ask for permission. As you nod shyly, he unhooks the straps with one hand to slide the bra off your chest. 

He sucks on your chest while he slides a hand down the front of your panties to feel the damp folds on his fingers. You squirm at the familiar feeling of his calloused fingers rubbing against your clit, making your scratch lightly down his back. He takes his time feeling you up before slipping a finger into you, letting you get comfortable before allowing another finger to wiggle in. You choke out a moan when he curls his finger, arching your back to press your chest into his. 

“How could you let me make someone as pure as you so dirty, angel,” he sighs softly into your ear as you lose yourself on his finger. You try your hardest to tell him but no words escape your mouth except his name, blabbering out incoherent words from the overwhelming pleasure. 

Slipping his fingers out, he takes your panties off as well, chuckling at the stringy fluid connecting his fingers together. You whine and hide your face in embarrassment, pouting a bit since you’re the only one naked. 

“Kiyoomi, this is not fair. Take off your clothes, too,” you huff out making him tsk under his breath, mumbling something about you being a brat. He takes his pants off anyways, slipping off his pants and boxers. It shocks you how hard his cock hits his abdomen, his tip red and precum beading. You don’t realize you’re staring and trying to reach out until he slaps your hand away, looking down in disappointment. 

“Not ready yet, don’t want you touching so disgusting just yet.” Kiyoomi rolls on the condom, pumping his cock a couple times in his hands. His size of course looks normal in his hand, perfectly proportioned to his body, but the way his cock rests on your tummy makes him look huge.

“Are you sure you’re ready? You look pretty scared, angel.” Kiyoomi hums, hooking your legs around his waist as he rubs the hip on your clit. Gasping softly, you card your hand into his hair to tug on it as you try to mumble out confirmation. He presses the tip at your hole, watching your face contort to the wide stretch. He couldn’t help to keep pushing through the resistance, no matter how much your face contorted or how many tears has dribbled down your red cheeks. You already look incredibly ruined when he only makes it halfway into you, only making him more than ready to see you fully stuffed with his cock. He doesn’t wait on it either, only speeding up the process no matter how hard you pull on his hair or how many times you slap his chest.

“O-oomi, It hurts. Why di-didn’t you listen to me?” You sob a little, hiding your teary face into his neck only making him chuckle a bit while he strokes your hair. 

“You just look too cute, couldn’t hold myself back.” He mutters, trying not to stumble on his words over the way your walls suck on his cock. He tries to make up for it, holding back the urge to start thrusting relentlessly into you as you calm your pathetic crying. It wasn’t until he felt your soft kisses on his neck, hinting that you were ready for him to move.

The both of you moan at the same time when he first thrust, finally having what the two of you have been waiting for this whole time. It didn’t take long until he was pounding into your cunny, gushing obnoxiously loud with each thrust he forced into you. You wail out, clinging onto his back for dear life, not caring one bit for the scratches you are leaving on his back. 

“So precious when you’re crying like this for me? Is it that good?” Kiyoomi moans into your ear, grabbing the back of your knees to spread your legs wider for him, “I’ve been keeping you waiting for too long. Can feel you trying to milk my cum. Such a filthy girl already.”

You sob at his words, trying your best to say something back but each word gets jumble into your moans. His thrusts were relentless, pushing you faster and faster to your climax. 

“C-Close, Oomi!” You squeal out, only to get cut off by Sakusa catching your lips into his, sucking on your tongue. His thrusts were starting to feel too deep, your eyes rolled back as your head went fuzzy from the stimulation. 

It didn’t take too many thrusts until you were creaming around him, translucent white forming around the base of his cock after each thrust. To Kiyoomi, that’s all it took for him to cum, releasing into the latex barrier. He groans and rolls his hips a bit, letting you feel his cock pulse in you as he releases. 

He peppers your face in soft kisses, rubbing his hands up and down your side. All you can do is heave, trying to catch your breath underneath him. His cock twitches at the sight of you, whimpering and thighs shaking from orgasm wracking your body. Your walls keep clamping around his cock as if you’re sucking him in for more. He grunts and chuckles, kissing your tears softly.

“You keep sucking me in, angel. It’s alright I’ll give you my cum another time.”

“let’s see.” his hand presses right over the wet spot, rubbing slowly, deliberately. you can feel the slickness spread beneath his touch, your breath catching in your throat as your embarrassment deepens.

“theeere it is,” he murmurs, more amused than anything, his fingers dragging through the dampness. he snickers softly, making you squirm even more, frustration bubbling up in your chest.

“it’s not— i’m not like that!” you stammer, but your voice wavers. your face burns, mortified at how easily your body betrays you.

he’s already smirking, rubbing his fingers over the soaked fabric. “hmm,” he hums, contemplative. his fingers push just enough to feel the slick mess between your legs, curling around the slick, the wetness unmistakable. “what’s this, then?”

your eyes squeeze shut, trying to block out the humiliating squelch of his fingers against you. “mhm,” he hums, cocky and clearly enjoying himself. without warning, his fingers retract, and before you can react—rip.

your eyes fly open in shock, staring at the torn lace in his hand. “matt!” you yelp.

he laughs, kissing your temple. “relax. you won’t need them anyway,” he says, tossing the ruined fabric aside like it’s nothing.

your heart pounds in your chest, cheeks puffing as you glare up at him. “but—those were my favorite!” you huff.

but his hand moves against you, unrelenting. “matt,” you whine, voice trembling as his fingers brush over your clit, too light to give any real relief but enough to make you shudder.

he chuckles softly, fingers moving slow, torturous circles. “my—girl. predictable girl,” he murmurs, not even paying attention to your growing frustration. “always wet, aren’t you. fucking filthy.”

you can feel the heat between your thighs building, your body betraying you as he starts pistoning two curled fingers inside, a thumb pressing hard on your pulsing clit.

“matt, it hurts—,” you start, but it falls flat, especially when he gives your clit a gentle slap.

“hurts, huh?” he mocks, leaning closer, his breath warm against your ear. he does it again, the softest sting that sends a jolt through your body, making you whimper.

“i'm being so gentle, baby.”

he catches it immediately, the way you’ve gone quiet. “what’s wrong, baby?” his voice is softer now, curious but with an edge of dominance that makes your stomach flutter. a hand comes under your chin, trying to tilt your face up, but you keep your eyes down, biting your lip, feeling small. your knees pull in tighter as your cheeks puff out adorably.

matt sighs, half amused, half exasperated. “oh, baby… oh, baby,” he murmurs, almost to himself, and then he opens his arms wide, the gesture commanding in its tenderness. “come here.”

you hesitate, still embarrassed, but he gently pries your arms open, pulling you against him, your burning cheek tucked into his neck. “you know how much i love hearing you say my name like that,” he whispers, lips brushing the top of your head, apologizing in his own way as he kisses your hair. his hand smooths over your back as your face grows impossibly hotter against him.

even after he pulls back, you’re too shy to look up at him, your toes curling against the sheets as the heat of your blush refuses to fade. but matt’s not done with you. no, he’s going to make sure you face him. “sweet girl,” he whispers, his voice a low command, “you’re gonna look at me when you cum next time.”

and he does—he makes you fall apart three more times, each time praising you for looking up at him and being as vocal as you can for him. his sweet, shy girl. <3