#jeffbuckleysconventasks

precum is already staining the jeans he fumbles to get off, but when he finally gets inside you? he’s spurting out cum even before he settles on your clit properly. hosing down your pussy in white stickiness. matt’s grunts turn into soft moans as he ruts into you, his hips highlighted by the moonlight. woah, tiger. you tease, leaning your head back as you soak in his sexual pleasure. i..um..i just..ugh. he mutters, at a loss for words. you frown, glancing up at his dazed expression, his eyes seeming more blank than usual. you help him ease out of your wet, sopping pussy, and lay him down on the bed. shhh, you’re ok, matty. you’re ok. you whisper to his half-asleep self, running your fingers through his hair.

but yes, it makes him feel..more mature, in a way. like he’s ready for this. for sex, for lust, for everything with you. which he isn’t, but he tries his best! and he’ll always try so, so hard for you, wanting to do anything to please you. the first time he hits your g-spot, you let out a good job, matthew. he’s hooked on it from there. he’d pace his dorm, muttering matthew to himself like a prayer. he never directly tells you how much he loves it, but when you call him matthew at a party once, you see his cheeks get a little pink and his jeans a little tighter.

oh he’d be a fiend for whispers. the gentle rasp in your voice, your smirk that he can hear in the tone. but matt is so sub. catholic = masochist = submission. easy. he doesn’t like wearing condoms because of the sensory issues with them (or so he says..) so you two rely on the pull and pray, and a lot of tissues for when he cums five minutes in. but on his birthday, you finally let him finish in you. in all your glory. the pussy he’s come to memorize. it’s the happiest you’ve ever seen him, The lazy smile on his face after. he keeps hugging you, muttering about how much he loves you. it’s a moment of pleasure, but he still gets all sleepy after, falling asleep on your chest.

he’s so worried about disturbing the neighbors - his heightened senses making his moans and grunts of pleasure that much louder to his ears. and he loves you being in control, softly cooing to him. so good for me, huh? just let me make you feel good, matthew. meanwhile he can barely speak, so lost in the pleasure to even comprehend your words.

you’d be so back and forth with each other. he’d be praying the same rosary he ties your hands with. you’d be on your knees both in the pews and in the bedroom. I think he might not like calling you a slut or a whore because you’re so amazing, he couldn’t degrade you like that. but I think he would constantly say that you’re tempting him, whether it be with a shorter dress or a chaste kiss or even begging for him to put his cock in you when he’s knuckle deep in your cunt. it’s a cycle, a routine: have wonderful, amazing sex together, then spend an hour begging for forgiveness from God.

omg but matt going back to his dorm after you two fuck, and foggy isn’t there, and he’s still trying to chase that high so damn badly. he’s jumping his pillow, rutting against the creaky mattress, jacking off, anything to try and replicate the pleasure he felt last night. none of it works as well, obviously, and just leaves him a sticky, whiny mess.

oh my goodness I love this!!! especially after sex when you’re laying with each other, and he’s all cuddled into your chest. mm, mommy.. he whimpers as he nuzzles further into your chest, dozing off like a sleepy little puppy.

during finals, you and matt have barely anytime for sex. well, you don’t, anyway. he’s been studying the past few weeks, so he’s not cramming like you. smirking at you from across one of the library’s oak tables. shut up, you mutter, focusing on the textbook in front of you. what? I’m not saying anything, he teases, like a child that acts out for a sliver of attention. this final straw prompts you to slam your textbook shut, (in turn causing everyone to stare at you) shove your things into matthew’s arms, and drag him out of the building. he stammers and stumbles over his words and the sidewalk as you bring him back to your dorm. both of you know he’s in for an absolute torturous evening, worse than any exam at Columbia