𝔘𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔦𝔦 𓆩♡𓆪

𝑺𝑯𝑼𝑻 𝑼𝑷 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

... tiny burb inspired by how matt 100% enjoys this shit (cw: p in v smut, sub!matt)

You hover over him, letting just the tip slip inside you. He's already a moaning mess from the previous handjob, and you slowly sink down an inch—it burns. It's been almost a month since the last time you fucked thanks to a work trip, and suddenly he feels too big to take.

Slowly, you sink down a bit more, a loud whimper coming from Matt as he bucks his hips, and you squint in concentration, trying to relax your muscles. You want to take all of him, but he's too thick, and you're too tight.

"Ah—fuck," he moans. "You're so tight, baby." You just grunt in response as you sink another inch. He's so deep you feel him in your stomach. "Oh—ngg, I can't—I can't—"

"You can't what?" you ask breathlessly, and he just whines again in response. "What's the problem, baby?"

"It's too—god, it feels so good. I might c—"

"Shut up," you hiss as you cover his mouth with your hand, pushing his head into the pillow behind him. He tries to say something but it's just a muffled moan against your hand. He doesn't stop writhing his hips, though.

You see his expression, eye's rolled back to the back of his head, and you feel his moans against your hand. You close your eyes and finally, finally sink all the way down until he fills you completely. You stay like that for a moment, allowing yourself to adjust. His hips are still twitching, still trying to create friction, and you can feel his hot breath against your palm as he whines. You move your hips in a slow circle, and he moans again—louder this time.

You lift your hand just enough for him to gasp in a breath, his lips flushed and wet against your skin.

"That was so hot. You're so hot—," he chokes out, his voice a wrecked, raspy thing. His eyes, hazy and dark with need, lock onto yours. "A-Again."

The request shoots straight through you. Instead of your hand, you lean down and press your mouth to his, swallowing the next whimper before it can fully form. It's a messy, desperate kiss, all teeth and tongue. You bite his lower lip, not gently, and he groans into your mouth, his hips jerking up hard enough to make you see stars.

You start to move in earnest then, lifting up until he's almost out before slamming back down. The slick, obscene sound of your bodies meeting fills the room, punctuated by his choked-off cries. He's so impossibly deep, stretching you in a way that straddles the line between pain and pure, unadulterated pleasure. You can feel every thick inch of him, the heavy weight of him inside you.

"Look at me," you command, your voice strained. His eyes flutter open, dazed and unfocused. "Look so pretty baby. Makin' me feel so good." you mumble.

"Fuck," he whines, his hands flying to your hips, his grip so tight it'll leave bruises. "You're gonna... you're gonna make me..."

You know exactly what he's trying to say. The thought of it, of him losing control and filling you up, sends a fresh wave of heat through you. You ride him harder, faster, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter. You can feel him twitching inside you, his whole body tensing.

"Come on," you pant, grinding down against him. "Give it to me. Fill me up."

That's all it takes. With a broken cry that you muffle with your hand again, he arches off the bed, his entire body shaking as he spills into you. The feeling is overwhelming, a hot, deep pulse that sends you tumbling over the edge right after him.

For a long moment, you just stay there, boneless and panting, his softening weight still inside you. When you finally pull off, you collapse onto the bed beside him, both of you a sweaty, sticky mess. He's still whimpering, little aftershocks making him twitch, and you just laugh, reaching over to card your fingers through his damp hair.

Later, once you've cleaned up and are cuddling under the covers, he nuzzles into your neck.

"See?" he murmurs, his voice still a little hoarse. "Told you it was hot." He pauses, then adds with a sleepy, smug grin, "Didn't know I was too big for you to handle without making me shut up 'n concentrate."

You just roll your eyes, but you can't help the fond smile that tugs at your lips. "Go to sleep, you big-dicked asshole."

He just chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before his breathing evens out, leaving you to listen to the sound of the rain outside, the two of you tangled together in the dark.

woop woop

Golden boy

(Birthday special ) im 19

So you can play the golden boy

"I'd love to be your girlfriend"

Everyone loved Chris.

That was the problem.

The first time Y/N met him, she understood the obsession immediately. He had the smile that made people feel chosen, the laugh that filled every room, and the kind of confidence that never seemed arrogant because he wore it so effortlessly.

People gravitated toward him.

There was a trail of destruction

Girls wanted him.

That led straight to you

Guys wanted to be him.

Ignored all the signs

And Chris knew exactly how to make every person around him feel special.

That I wish weren't true

Especially Y/N.

You're such a good actor, I guess you had me fooled

For months, she felt like she was the exception.

Guess I was convenient When I was around

While everyone else only got pieces of him, she got the real version.

'Cause you love attention,

The talk of the town

Or at least she thought she did.

Their relationship wasn’t official. It lived in late-night phone calls, secret drives through the city, stolen kisses when nobody was watching, and promises whispered when the world felt quiet.

What's done is done

I'm on the other side now

Chris always had an explanation.

And I'd build you up

While you'd just tear me down

He was busy.

He was stressed.

He wasn’t ready.

He just needed time.

And Y/N believed every single word.

Because when he looked at her, it felt impossible not to.

He knew exactly what to say.

Exactly what she wanted to hear.

Exactly how to make her stay.

Even when something felt wrong.

Even when girls would comment on his posts with hearts and flirty messages.

Even when rumors started floating around.

Even when friends pulled her aside and carefully asked if she was sure about him.

So you can play the golden boy

And lose yourself in all the noise of

"You're kind, and you're so perfect"

"I'd love to be your girlfriend"

You were lucky once

How's life living on the surface?

Y/N defended him every time.

“That’s not who he is.”

“You don’t know him like I do.”

“Chris would never do that.”

Looking back, she wished she could shake herself.

The signs had always been there.

She had simply refused to see them.

Because loving Chris felt like standing in sunlight.

You didn’t notice the burn until it was too late.

The truth arrived slowly.

Painfully.

We'd talk all the time

Now we don't even speak

I'm wide awake

While you're both still asleep

You're so unaffected

By our history

Like pieces of broken glass.

One message.

One screenshot.

One lie.

Then another.

And another.

Until she could no longer pretend everything was fine.

She discovered conversations he’d hidden.

Promises he’d made to multiple girls.

The same compliments.

The same jokes.

The same words he once made her believe were unique.

Special.

Sacred.

They weren’t.

He had simply memorized the role.

And he played it well.

Better than anyone.

Chris wasn’t just good at being loved.

He was good at making people love him.

There was a difference.

A dangerous one.

When Y/N confronted him, she expected guilt.

Remorse.

Something.

Instead, he looked annoyed.

Like she had interrupted his day.

“You’re overthinking this.”

That sentence shattered something inside her.

Because after everything, after every sleepless night, after every tear she’d cried trying to understand him…

He still found a way to make her feel crazy.

Like she was the problem.

Like she was imagining it all.

And for one horrible moment…

She almost believed him again.

Guess I was convenient

When I was around

'Cause you love attention

The talk of the town

And I'd build you up

While you'd just tear me down

The breakup wasn’t dramatic.

No screaming.

No thrown objects.

No cinematic goodbye.

It was worse.

It was quiet.

A slow death.

The kind where two people stop fighting because one of them has finally run out of reasons to stay.

What's done is done

I'm on the other side now

Y/N walked away.

And Chris let her.

That hurt more than she expected.

Because deep down, some foolish part of her thought he’d chase her.

Fight for her.

Beg her not to leave.

But he didn’t.

He simply moved on.

As if she had never mattered.

So you can play the golden boy

And lose yourself in all the noise of

Weeks passed.

Then months.

And everywhere she looked, Chris was still Chris.

Still smiling.

Still laughing.

Still adored.

People posted about how sweet he was.

How funny he was.

How perfect he was.

Girls continued falling for him.

The comments never stopped.

“He’s such a good guy.”

“You’re so lucky if you’re dating him.”

“I wish I had a boyfriend like Chris.”

Y/N would read them and laugh bitterly.

Not because they were wrong.

Because they didn’t know.

They only knew the version he showed them.

The polished version.

The charming version.

The golden boy.

The one who never made mistakes.

The one everyone wanted.

The one who somehow walked away untouched while everyone else cleaned up the damage.

Sometimes she’d see photos of him online.

Surrounded by friends.

Smiling like nothing had happened.

Like hearts weren’t breaking in his wake.

Like there wasn’t a trail of people who once believed they were special.

For a while, it made her angry.

"You're kind, and you're so perfect"

"I'd love to be your girlfriend"

Furious, actually.

How could someone hurt people so easily and still be loved?

How could someone leave destruction behind and never have to face it?

You were lucky once

How's life living on the surface?

But healing does strange things.

One day, she realized she hadn’t checked his page in weeks.

Then months.

One day, she heard his name and didn’t feel sick.

Another day, she looked at an old photo and felt nothing at all.

No anger.

No heartbreak.

No longing.

Nothing.

And somehow that felt like freedom.

Because she finally understood something.

Chris wasn’t winning.

Not really.

He spent his life chasing admiration.

Attention.

Validation.

He needed people to love him because he didn’t know how to exist without it.

We'd talk all the time

Now we don't even speak

And Y/N no longer needed any of those things.

She had survived losing him.

Survived loving him.

Survived the disappointment of discovering that the person she thought he was never truly existed.

That made her stronger than he’d ever know.

I'm wide awake

While you're both still asleep

You're so unaffected

By our history

A year later, they ran into each other.

A crowded event.

Music playing.

People everywhere.

The kind of place that once would’ve made her nervous.

Chris spotted her first.

His eyes widened slightly.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then he smiled.

That same smile.

The one that used to make her heart race.

The one that once had so much power over her.

But now?

It was just a smile.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

There was no tension.

No lingering feelings.

Just two people standing in the same room.

Chris looked at her carefully.

Almost like he expected something.

Maybe anger.

Maybe sadness.

Maybe proof that she still cared.

But what's done is done

I'm on the other side now

Instead, she simply smiled politely.

Because she didn’t belong to his story anymore.

And he didn’t belong to hers.

After a few moments, they said goodbye.

And she walked away.

Not because it hurt.

Not because she needed distance.

But because she had somewhere better to be.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N wasn’t living in Chris Sturniolo’s shadow.

So you can play the golden boy

And lose yourself in all the noise of

"You're kind, and you're so perfect"

"I'd love to be your girlfriend"

You were lucky once

How's life living on the surface?

She wasn’t another girl hoping to be chosen.

Wasn’t another name on a list.

Wasn’t another heart trying to earn love from someone incapable of giving it fully.

She was finally choosing herself.

You can really play the part

While you stay breaking all these hearts

Oh "what's it like to be his girlfriend"

Looks good but it's a burden

You were lucky once

Have fun living on the surface

And as she disappeared into the crowd, Chris watched her leave.

For once, the golden boy wasn’t the center of someone’s world.

And somehow, that was the one thing he could never learn how to be okay with.

I'm thankful

You're no longer wasting my time

I'm grateful I gave up

On reading your mind

I know that it's much better

Ending like this

Just one on your list

Deceived and dismissed

No I'm not alone being left in your mess

It should bring me closure, or something I guess

But all that I'm left with are unproven words

That everyone heard, and what makes it worse

Is you just play the golden boy

And got so lost in all the noise of

"You're kind, and you're so perfect"

"I'd love to be your girlfriend"

How's life living on the surface?

You can really play the part

While you stay breaking all these hearts

Oh "what's it like to be his girlfriend"

Looks good but it's a burden

You were lucky once

⟢ part one :: part two

CHERRY

PASTRY

MOSS

EERIE

LAVENDER

BLUE HAZE

⟢ Like/reblog if you use.

hello anon!!! thank you for the request! :) hope you enjoy ☺️

𝑪𝑯𝑹𝑰𝑺 had been off all day. distracted. every little thing got on his nerves, and by the time filming ended, he was practically shoving equipment into people’s hands so he could leave. the only thing he’d been thinking about for hours was getting home to you, his girlfriend. when he finally gets home, he lets out a deep breath at seeing you in the shared room, doing random work on your computer. not for long though, since he has something else on the agenda.

unfortunately for you both, matt gets home not long after.

at first, he doesn’t think anything of it. chris and you are always together. but after wandering around for a while, he remembers he needed something from you. a charger, a book, maybe a hoodie you borrowed and heads toward the room. he knocks once. no answer.

chris is too far gone to notice matt at first, focused solely on you. his head is buried in your neck, kissing and sucking harshly as he spreads your legs wider with his knees, pressing his hips between them. one of his hands releases your thigh to grab at your hip, yanking you closer to grind against you.

your eyes lock with matt’s, and to his surprise, you say nothing but give a small smile. chris has yet to notice, back to the door. matt knows he should leave, shutting the door a bit. but his curiousity gets the best of him, and he continues to watch through the crack, suddenly very focused on you.

matt bites into his lip, watching your legs spread wider as chris grinds against you. he knows he should look away, but he can't. your small smile makes him think you want him to watch. chris’s hand slips under your shirt, grabbing your breast roughly.

chris’s mouth finds yours, kissing you deeply and messily as he starts to unbuckle his belt with one hand. matt watches, his breath hitching as chris pulls out his hard cock, rubbing it against your clothed pussy. you moan into the kiss, arching your back slightly.

chris breaks the kiss to pull your shirt off over your head, leaving you in just a bra. he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and underwear, pulling them down together. matt swallows hard as chris spreads your legs wide open, giving him a perfect view of what's happening.

chris lines himself up with your entrance and slams inside you without warning. you cry out, gripping his shoulders as he starts to pound into you mercilessly. matt’s hand slowly slides down to adjust himself through his pants, eyes fixed on where chris’s cock is disappearing into you over and over.

you eyes scramble around the door, looking through the sliver to meet up with matt’s again. matt’s eyes lock onto yours, his hand moving faster against his bulge through his pants. He bites his lip harder, trying to stay quiet as he watches chris fuck you. you hold matt's gaze, your mouth opening in a silent moan as chris hits a particularly deep spot. "fuck..."

chris grins, knowing he's hitting the right spot. he leans down to bite your neck, marking you as he continues his brutal pace. matt’s eyes roll back as he imagines himself in chris's place, fucking you like that.

chris suddenly grabs your legs, throwing them over his shoulders and leaning forward. this new angle hits even deeper, and you can't help but let out a loud cry. matt's hand freezes over his bulge, knowing chris might hear him if he keeps going. “oh fuck yes..."

chris smiles against your neck, loving the sounds you're making. he starts snapping his hips, hitting that spot over and over. your cries turn into moans, your hands gripping his hair tightly. matt watches, his eyes filled with pure, unfiltered jealously.

chris's movements become more erratic as he gets closer to his release. he lifts your hips higher, changing the angle again and making you scream louder. matt's hand finally moves back to his cock, unzipping his pants just enough to pull himself out and start stroking desperately. "come on baby..."

chris's fingers dig into your hips as he pounds into you faster, chasing his orgasm. your moans fill the room, driving matt wild as he jerks himself off furiously outside the door. suddenly, chris buries himself deep inside you and groans loudly against your neck as he comes.

chris collapses on top of you, breathing heavily as he stays buried inside you. he kisses your neck softly, his hands slowly moving to hold your face gently. matt watches, his hand still moving slowly over his sensitive cock, feeling a mix of jealousy and satisfaction as he sees chris tender with you post-sex.

chris pulls out of you slowly, causing you both to groan at the empty feeling. he flops down next to you, pulling you into his side possessively. matt’s view is now blocked by chris's body, but he can still hear your soft murmurs and occasional giggles.

matt sighs once he’s in his own room, shutting the door quietly. he replays your moans in his head, and he knows he shouldn’t feel this way about his brothers girlfriend, but the fact that you were locking eyes with him was way too telling. the question now is how much more could get away with?

matt sturniolo x reader | fluff | based off this request

You'd been to the Sturniolo house enough times that you knew the doorbell made a slightly different sound than the normal ones. lower, a little longer. And you knew Nick usually took exactly forty-five seconds to answer it because he was always on the other side of the house doing something.

So when the door swung open after maybe ten seconds, you were already mid-text and completely unprepared.

"Oh," you said.

The guy standing in the doorway was definitely not Nick.

He was taller than you'd expected, dark hoodie, hair slightly messy in a way that looked accidental but wasn't, and he was looking at you with this expression you couldn't quite place, somewhere between surprised and something you couldn't determine.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi." You lowered your phone. "You're not Nick."

"No." The corner of his mouth pulled up. "I'm Matt."

You knew that, actually, Nick had mentioned his brothers approximately a thousand times. You'd just never met them in person, which felt suddenly like a significant oversight.

"I'm—"

"I know who you are," he said. "Nick talks about you."

You blinked. "Uhh... good things?? I hope? "

"Mostly." His eyes were doing something you couldn't quite read: warm, a little amused, moving over your face like he was taking inventory. "He said you were funny."

"Mostly funny? Or actually funny?"

"Guess I'll find out." He stepped back, pulling the door open wider. "You can come in. He's somewhere, probably his room."

You stepped inside, and he closed the door behind you, and for a few seconds, you just stood in the entryway with nowhere in particular to be.

"So," you said.

"So," he said back.

"Do you always answer the door?"

"Only when I'm closest to it."

"Very efficient."

"I try." He leaned against the wall, arms crossing loosely, and there was something about the way he held himself that made your brain go slightly offline. "Nick said you were coming over."

"Is that why you answered the door?"

Something flickered across his face. "I was just closest."

"You said that already."

"Because it's true."

You smiled despite yourself. "Sure."

He opened his mouth to say something. You genuinely wanted to know what, and then footsteps came thundering down the hallway, and Nick appeared, hair chaotic, socks sliding on the hardwood.

"You're here!" He pointed at you like you'd done something impressive by showing up. "I literally just texted you."

"I'm standing right here, Nick."

"I know, I just—" He grabbed your wrist and started pulling you toward the hallway, then stopped, looking between you and Matt. "Were you two—"

"She rang the doorbell," Matt said. "I answered it."

"Right." Nick looked at Matt for half a second too long. "Cool. Come on, I have to show you something."

You let yourself get pulled away, glancing back once. Matt was still leaning against the wall. Still watching.

You turned back around before you could do something stupid like smile about it.

The something Nick had to show you turned out to be a seventeen-minute video essay about a topic you'd never heard of, which you sat through genuinely because Nick's enthusiasm was infectious and also because you were a good friend.

By the time it was over you were hungry, which you announced, and Nick pointed toward the kitchen.

The kitchen was at the other end of the house.

You navigated there alone, opened the fridge, stared into it for a while the way you do when you're not sure what you want but you're hoping something will volunteer itself.

"There's leftover pasta on the second shelf."

You startled, hand flying to your chest. Matt was sitting at the kitchen island with a sketchbook open in front of him, pen in hand, like he'd been there the whole time.

"You have to stop doing that," you said.

"Doing what?"

"Popping up out of nowhere."

He considered that. "That's hard to avoid. I live here."

"Fair point." You found the pasta, grabbed a fork, and leaned against the counter. He went back to his sketchbook. You watched him for a second without meaning to. The way his pen moved, focused and easy, was hard not to watch. "What are you drawing?"

"Nothing yet."

"The page is right there."

"It's thinking," he said, and glanced up. "What?"

"Nothing." You looked down at your pasta. "I didn't say anything."

"You had a face."

"I have a face, yes. It came with the rest of me."

His laugh was quiet, a little surprised, like it had gotten out before he caught it. You felt unreasonably pleased about that.

"Nick said you were funny," he said again.

"You mentioned."

"I'm starting to think mostly funny was an understatement."

You pointed your fork at him. "Don't tell him that. His head's already a problem."

"It really is." He set his pen down, turning slightly on the stool to face you more fully, and the kitchen felt smaller than it had thirty seconds ago. "How long have you known him?"

"Since we were like fifteen. We had the same terrible taste in music and it bonded us."

"What kind of music?"

"The kind you grow out of."

"That's not an answer."

"I know." You smiled. He shook his head, the corner of his mouth pulling up again, and you were starting to catalogue that expression. The almost-smile, the one that meant you'd said something he hadn't expected.

You were also starting to notice you were trying to make it happen, which was information you weren't sure what to do with.

"You're not what I expected," he said.

"What did you expect?"

He thought about it. "Someone louder, maybe. Nick described you in a very big way."

"I can be loud. I'm just comfortable."

"Yeah," he said, quieter. "I can tell."

You weren't entirely sure what to do with that either.

The fridge hummed. From somewhere down the hall, Nick's voice floated out, talking to himself or on the phone, impossible to tell.

"I should probably—" you started.

"Yeah," he said, like he'd been expecting it.

You pushed off the counter. Made it about three steps toward the door.

"Hey." His voice low. You turned. He had his pen in his hand again, eyes on the sketchbook, but there was something deliberate about the way he wasn't looking at you. "If Nick makes you watch another video essay, you're allowed to just leave."

You laughed, genuine and quiet. "Noted."

"I'll be here," he said. Still not looking up. "If you need somewhere to be instead."

You stood in the doorway for just a beat longer than necessary.

"Maybe I'll take you up on that," you said.

He looked up then. That almost-smile again, except this time it was a little more than almost.

You turned before he could see yours.

You did go back, obviously.

Forty minutes later, under the very thin pretense of needing more water, you slid back onto the kitchen island stool and said "okay, explain what you're drawing" and he did, then somehow an hour passed, and then Nick found you both and made a face you'd be thinking about for days, and it was late and you had to actually sleep because that was supposedly why you'd come over.

Matt walked you to the hallway, unnecessary given that you knew where the hallway was.

"I'll see you around," you said.

"Yeah," he said. "You will."

You went to sleep that night on Nick's couch, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the way he'd said you would... not maybe or probably, just certain, like it was already decided.

Down the hall, Matt lay awake doing the same thing, sketchbook open beside him, the page that had been empty all evening finally not.

He'd drawn a girl leaning against a kitchen counter, fork in hand, laughing at something. He'd gotten it right on the first try.

wrong door. right person. Nick was going to be so annoying about this.