matt sturniolo blurb

relief

warnings: pillow humping, not proofread.

the tour bus has always been an action packed setting for matt. chris blaring music at any given point, arguments taking place every few moments, too much work talk for matt’s liking and most of all— there is no privacy. at all.

how much ever matt loved being on the road, meeting fans and entertaining them he would also like just a moment alone.

a moment to think what he wants to, able to stress in peace, or relieve the stress in some way or the other.

matt is currently laid on his bunk, the red curtain pulled completely in attempts to mask the sound of the loud music being played in the small lounge area in celebration of yet another successful show.

even though nick was insisting matt on staying up for a little, matt convinced him that he had a throbbing head ache and said his good nights earlier than usual.

matt sighs into his pillow thinking over the events that took place today, all the work that he has to get done before tomorrow’s show and the rest of the tour. but one thought in particular that’s bothering him is what the fuck is he is going to do about the raging boner tenting his sweats right now.

it feels wrong to help himself out when everyone including his brothers are right outside. awake.

matt screws his eyes shut in order to fall sleep, pulling the blanket all the way up to his bare shoulders and letting out a breath.

he shuffles and stirs all through an hour before he finally settles in a position that was comfortable enough—partially on his back, face to the side, hands on either side of his face, blanket loosely laying below his thighs and a small pillow between his legs.

he keeps his eyes shut focusing on the goal of falling asleep, when a small bump in the road shakes him up.

the pillow between his legs shifts with his body, matt was startled—not by the bump but by the way his cock twitched at the small friction of the pillow shifting between his legs, at how his body tensed immediately.

matt can’t help but buck his hips into the pillow just a little, pressing his clothed cock on it.

he lets out a shaky breath keeping his eyes shut but his eyebrows pinned together, slowly allowing himself to grind against the feather filled appliance that he should definitely not be humping.

but he can’t help it, he needs the pressure that has been building up to release.

soon matt’s thoughts fog up, not caring if the people present in the vehicle with him catch him and he starts humping the pillow recklessly.

the loud music that is still being played outside engulfing the faint sounds of matt’s hips plowing into the pillow.

his fingers holding onto the thin sheet covering the mattress, gripping onto it as the intensity of his humping and grinding increases.

a small whimper slips through his lips before letting his mouth hang open, emitting a soft pant with each one of his movements.

his body shaking violently and breathing growing heavier, his cock twitching under his sweats feeling his release come closer.

matt’s stomach muscles tense, his back arched, hips bucked in with the last powerful thrust, lips caught between his teeth, face flushed-sweaty and scrunched up in pleasure when he cums undone in his pants. painting them and the pillow cover with his sticky, translucent release.

matt’s eyes flutter open and immediately drop down to the mess he’d made.

realisation settling in as he quickly gets rid of the pillow cover, still trying to even out his breathing.

once he’s cleared the evidence of his shameful and pathetic act, he flops back down with a loud sigh.

finally feeling relaxed enough to sleep.

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just clocked outta work what’d i miss

some of y’all gotta get like gen!

@cvnntagious i hope you know you are literally harassing a minor for no reason.

minor but writing smut for grown ass men? right…right.

Yall take tumblr so seriously like who gaf...we write about fucking celebrities who will never acknowledge our existence and yet bitches are still going back and forth over...au's...?

Please take the time and effort you put into tumblr.com into getting a job, making friends, and going outside. Worry about other things besides an app that NOBODY is forcing you to be on.

the tripouts gc meme starter pack

@cvnntagious @sosasturns @mattscoquette @whore4mattsturniolo @chrattho1 @submattenthusiast @snoopychris

Tripouts reach is generational...

@cvnntagious @mattscoquette @submattenthusiast @sosasturns @chrattho1 @snoopychris

they stay lurking omf

𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲

a cowboy!matt & farmer’s daughter!reader blurb…

── ⋮ ⌗ “SCREAM MY NAME”. . . ⟢ ANGRY.ᐟCHRIS ᵎᵎ

Chris stormed off stage without a backward glance, jaw tight, hands clenched, the vein in his neck threatening to burst. You heard him before you saw him, mumbling under his breath as he stomped down the hallway like he was seconds from throwing something.

“Fuckin’ dumb. So fuckin’ dumb,” he spat under his breath, dragging a hand through his curls, still damp with sweat. “Tryna do something nice—can’t even get a fuckin’ sentence out without someone screamin’ over me.”

He looked up—and locked eyes with you.

You didn’t even have a chance to ask if he was okay before his hand wrapped around your wrist. Not rough, but not gentle either. Urgent. He didn’t say a word, just tugged you down the hallway, weaving past crew and security like they were invisible.

“Chris—” you started, trying to keep up, but he just gave your wrist a quick squeeze, his pace quickening like he needed to get somewhere before he exploded.

The backstage bathroom door slammed behind you. Lock clicked.

You opened your mouth again, “Baby, it’s okay, I—”

But then he was on you.

Your back hit the cool tile wall, his lips crashing into yours before you could say another word. His hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding under your shirt, tugging your waistband like he needed you now, like he didn’t care about anything else except getting lost in you.

He kissed like he was still angry. Teeth. Tongue. A little too rough. Like he wanted to erase the scream of that girl’s voice still echoing in his ears with the sound of your breath hitching.

“You,” he grunted between kisses, “are the only person I ever wanna hear scream my fuckin’ name.”

He shoved your leg up around his waist, grinding against you through both your clothes, the bulge in his pants unmistakable.

“I try doin’ somethin’ real, something fuckin’ meaningful—” His teeth grazed your jaw. “—and she just kept yappin’.”

“I know baby” Your nails dug into his shoulders, dragging a low groan from his throat.

“You’re the only one that gets me. Only one who fuckin’ sees me.”

Then he pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, both of you panting.

“Make me feel better, baby,” he said, voice low, ragged, desperate. “Make me forget all that bullshit.”

His forehead pressed against yours. “You always fuckin’ do.”

Then his mouth was back on yours, hotter this time—less rage, more need—and his hands were already working your pants down, ready to ruin you against the bathroom wall.

You barely managed to kick your pants off before Chris was back on you, lips crashing into yours like a wave he’d been drowning under all night. His fingers gripped your jaw, thumb pressing against your chin to keep you looking at him.

“You gonna let me fuck this attitude outta me or what?” he growled against your mouth.

You breathlessly laughed, arousal already pooling between your thighs. “I think you need it.”

“I know I fuckin’ need it,” he muttered, pulling your panties down with one swift tug. “Needed you the second I walked off that stage.”

His fingers slipped between your legs, groaning when he felt how soaked you already were.

“God—look at you. Fuckin’ soaked for me.”

“Always am,” you breathed, rocking your hips into his hand. “You think you could storm off stage like that and not have me ready for you?”

Chris smirked, but it was sharp, feral. “That right?” His fingers slipped inside you without warning, and your gasp bounced off the bathroom walls. “All worked up ‘cause your man lost his shit?”

You gripped his wrist. “Yeah but seriously, you did something real. Something that mattered. And they tried to make it about them.”

His jaw clenched again, teeth grinding. “That’s what pissed me off the most. I did that for them. For Matt. For Nick. Not so some girl could scream her fuckin’ name like it’s a roll call.”

You grabbed his face, forcing his eyes back to yours. “You’re not doing this for them. You’re doing it for you. And I’m proud of you. Fuck them.”

His eyes darkened at that. “Say that again.”

You leaned in, lips brushing his. “Fuck. Them.”

Chris growled something low in his throat before yanking his pants down just enough to free himself. His cock was already hard, thick, and leaking at the tip. He didn’t give you time to think—just lifted your leg higher and lined himself up.

“You ready for me, baby?”

Your nails curled into his shirt, lips parted, voice low and wrecked already. “Been ready since you grabbed me. Thought you were gonna fuck me right there in the hallway.”

Chris let out a sharp breath, eyes dragging over you like he was barely holding himself back. “I should’ve huh?.”

He grabbed your leg and hitched it around his waist, the thick head of his cock dragging through your soaked folds.

“Jesus— fuckin’ dripping.”

“That’s what happens when I see you all pissed off and bossy,” you whispered, cocky but breathless. “Gets me so fucking wet.”

He didn’t even respond—just slid in all at once, a strangled moan ripping from his throat as your back slammed against the wall again.

“Fuck—fuck, you feel that?”

You whimpered, hand scrambling against the tile behind you. “So full—Chris, holy shit—”

He buried himself to the hilt and didn’t move, just held you there, your bodies pressed together, his hand gripping the back of your neck.

“I want you to feel every inch of me everywhere.” he growled against your mouth

“Then fuck me,” you begged, grinding your hips into him, biting his bottom lip hard enough to make him hiss. “I can take it. Give it to me.”

Chris snapped.

He started thrusting like he was trying to bury all that frustration, all that rage, inside you. The kind of fucking that bordered on punishing—deep and relentless—but still so fucking personal.

“I do somethin’ meaningful,” he grunted, hand gripping your jaw tight, “and some random chick wants to ruin shit for everyone else, fuckin’ stupid.”

Your head tipped back against the wall, crying out as he hit that spot that made you go dumb. “She wanted attention. She doesn’t know you.”

“That’s the problem,” he snarled. “They don’t know me. Not like you do.”

“I know you, baby,” you moaned, wrapping both legs around him now, pulling him even deeper. “I know every version of you.”

He kissed you then—hard, desperate. Like he needed to shut you up before you made him lose it too fast.

“I should make you wear my name next time,” he panted, mouth dragging along your jaw. “Tattoo it right above your pussy. So when they start screaming theirs, I can think about mine sitting right between your fuckin’ legs.”

You gasped, head lolling back, chest heaving. “Do it,” you whispered, voice shaky but defiant. “And I want them to see it. Want them to know I’m yours even when you’re not around to remind them.”

Chris let out a ragged breath, like you knocked the wind out of him. His hips stuttered just once, like your words shot straight to his dick.

“You’d let me mark you like that?” he growled, pulling back just enough to look at you—really look at you. “Let me put my fuckin’ name on you?”

“Yours. No one else’s. Just yours.”

He kissed you hard again—less anger now, more possession. More need. His hand slid up your chest, thumb swiping over your nipple through your shirt, dragging another moan from you.

“You’d be the hottest fuckin’ canvas,” he muttered, eyes dropping to your lips. “Right above your cunt, baby, just for me.”

“You talk like you haven’t already ruined me,” you breathed, rolling your hips into his. “You think there’s anyone else I’d let fuck me like this? Slam me against a bathroom wall and fill me up like you own me?”

Chris groaned, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dripping off his brow. “That’s ’cause I do own you. Every fuckin’ inch. You’re mine, you hear me?”

“All yours,” you gasped, gripping the back of his neck as his thrusts got even rougher, angrier again—like your submission lit a fire under him. “Fuck, Chris—don’t stop—”

“You think she could fuck me like this?” he spat, eyes wild now. “That girl out there who wouldn’t shut up—think she’d take me like you do?”

“Not a fucking chance,” you cried out. “She doesn’t even deserve to look at you.”

“That’s right,” he growled, reaching down to wrap a hand around your throat—not squeezing, just holding you there, still, as he pounded into you. “You’re the only one who gets me like this. You’re the only one who fucking matters.”

You were unraveling, trembling in his grip, and he could feel it.

“Gonna cum for me?” he whispered, lips brushing your ear now, cock still drilling into you with unrelenting precision. “Gonna cum and let me fuck it into you? Let me bury it so deep no one else ever gets close?”

“Yes—fuck, yes, Chris—please, don’t stop—”

“Say it.”

“I’m yours. I’m yours—”

Your orgasm slammed into you like a truck, loud and raw and real, back arching hard as you fell apart all over him. Chris cursed under his breath, grabbing your ass and driving in as deep as he could before spilling inside you, his groan low and primal against your skin.

He didn’t pull out right away. Just kept you there, legs shaking around him, breathing into your neck like you were his lifeline.

“Next time,” he murmured, voice hoarse, lips brushing your collarbone, “I’m getting your name tattooed, somewhere no one else’ll see it but you.”

You were still panting, brain foggy and drunk on him, but your smirk cut through it all. “Then we’ll match.”

Chris pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, still inside you, fingers gripping your jaw again, but gently now.

“Yeah,” he said, quieter this time. “We fuckin’ will.”

authors note: love him need him in me

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