sturnentries

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you’re so cool

loll thank you.

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lowk debating on makin a new acc cos this one feels so unorganized to me..

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❛ 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄 ! 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓 ❜

BE ®️IGINAL ──── @fmalewokk @lyingonchris @macsangel @b-eharrlichkeit @grace-sturnz @nickstvrnbias @whore4-chrissturniolo @sturns-mermaid @mattsbunnyxx @chrissturniolodailysluts @chrissbxby @weirdothatwrites @courta13 @laila-sturniolo0 @ivysturnss @hohhggk

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❛ 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄 ! 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓 ❜

﹙ 💌 ﹚IN WHICH ᠀ your two-year college dorm life consists of thin walls, too many parties, and a frat boy roommate named matt who's just loud enough to keep you awake more nights than you'd like.

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i need to get my nails done

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Has Matt ever helped Lucky with her content? Like recording, photos, lighting, poses, videos etc?

yeah fs. he's actually helped her a lot with it—photos, videos, lighting, posing, all of that. i'm writing about that right now lol.

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how does matt feel about lucky's onlyfans career?

honestly, he doesn't feel any typa way about it. he respects her and the fact that it's her choice, and he's never judged her for it. he's not grossed out or anything like that—if anything, he admires how confident she is and how she takes control of it. to him, it's just part of who she is, and he supports her fully.

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how did lucky get her nickname?

she's been called lucky since she was a kid—always finding money on the ground, rare lil rocks, or somehow avoiding consequences her friends didn't. eventually she leaned into it and got a four leaf clover tattoo. when matt came along, he kept saying how lucky he was to have her, and once he saw the tattoo, the nickname just stuck. now he hardly ever calls her by her real name.

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physically attracted to chris mentally attracted to matt

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i wanna give nicolas antonio sturniolo the biggest 4head kiss.

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matt’s lil mullet? them gray strands??? my pussy just exploded.

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9 times outta 10, i'm prolly high.

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in love with your blog

i love with yours.

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. ⋮ ₍ 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐓 𓏲 ⌗ 𓈒 ──── ꒰ photographer!matt ⅋⅋ onlyfans!reader ꒱ ╱ ⋆    ་ :: this au is mainly smut based, so most prompts will contain themes of sexual content, mature situations, and nsfw dynamics. read at your own discretion.

The air was warm but not heavy, that perfect kind of summer evening where the heat mellowed just enough to make you forget it had ever been blistering. The sun hung low, spilling golden streaks through the gaps in the tree line, catching on every leaf and patch of dirt like it was deliberately trying to be cinematic. You spotted him from a short distance away—Matt, leaning against the wooden railing that marked the start of the trail, camera strap slung diagonally across his chest. The big, matte-black body of it rested against his side, lens cap off like he’d already been fiddling with it while waiting.

He straightened when you got close, giving you a small, almost lazy smile. “Y’feelin’ alright?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, stepping into the patch of light beside him. “Kinda peaceful out here.”

“That’s the point.” His gaze dipped briefly over your outfit, like he was mentally adjusting his plans, then he pushed himself off the railing. “We’ll start in the woods—light’s nice in there right now—then head to the boardwalk before the sun drops too far.”

You followed him down the narrow dirt path, the crunch of gravel under your shoes the only sound for a moment. He carried himself like he’d done this a hundred times before—calm, unhurried, but always scanning, his eyes flicking from the dappled sunlight on the ground to the way it cut across your shoulders.

When you reached a small clearing, he adjusted the camera strap higher on his shoulder and pulled the device into his hands. “Stand here. No—turn a little. Yeah. Eyes that way.” His tone was low but precise, each direction given like second nature. The shutter clicked in quick bursts, and you caught the faint smirk tugging at his mouth when he lowered the camera just enough to look at you directly.

By the time you reached the boardwalk, the sun had settled low enough to set the lake on fire. The water reflected streaks of orange, pink, and deepening violet, rippling with the soft wind coming in off the shore. Matt stepped ahead of you, adjusting the camera strap so it rested comfortably against his ribs. He turned back, eyeing the way the last light curved along your jaw. “Perfect,” he murmured more to himself than to you, before nodding toward the railing. “Stand there—yeah, jus’ like that. Keep your weight on your back foot.”

The shutter began to snap again, quick, steady bursts between the soft scrape of his sneakers on the wooden planks as he shifted angles. He didn’t just stand in one place—he crouched low, leaned sideways, stepped closer without warning, like chasing the image before it could slip away. “Tilt your head… mm, not so much. There. That’s it.” His voice was calm but direct, and the way his gaze lingered on you even when his eye was pressed to the viewfinder felt heavier than the warm air between you.

While you adjusted your stance, he broke the silence with a casual, “So… what do you do for work? Never asked.”

You glanced at him, then out toward the lake. “Content.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, not pressing further, though the small twitch at the corner of his mouth said he’d picked up on your tone. You added lightly, “You know, Instagram, TikTok…” letting your voice trail off like you were smoothing over something without really hiding it.

He kept shooting, his lens fixed on you. Then, almost idly, “Slightly weird comment, but… you’re a great poser.” His tone was half compliment, half observation. A slow smirk tugged at your lips. “Thank you.” You didn’t need to explain why—it was second nature.

The sun had finally slipped beneath the horizon, leaving the boardwalk bathed in dusky purples and the faint gold of the lamps flickering on overhead. The air felt cooler now, the soft hum of insects mixing with the occasional creak of the wooden planks under your feet. Matt slung his camera strap back over his shoulder, letting it hang as the two of you wandered toward the edge of the pier. There was no rush to leave—neither of you seemed eager to break whatever strange, unspoken connection had been building since you arrived.

“You did real good out there,” he said finally, glancing down at the camera in his hands. He scrolled through the shots, the faint light of the screen catching in his eyes. “These are ridiculous… in a good way.”

You leaned slightly toward him, brushing his arm as you peeked at the images. “Guess I’m just naturally good at this,” you teased, but there was a thread of truth woven in. He made a low sound in his throat—somewhere between agreement and amusement—as he kept flipping through. The easy way his eyes moved over your face, even without the lens between you, made you hyper-aware of every small movement you made.

It wasn’t until the two of you started heading back down the boardwalk that you decided to drop it. “So,” you began casually, “when I said I do content earlier… I meant OnlyFans.” You didn’t flinch or slow your steps—if anything, you delivered it with a quiet sort of pride, chin lifted against the dim light.

Matt’s response wasn’t what you expected. He didn’t blink, didn’t look surprised. Instead, a slow smile curved across his face, the kind that started subtle but lingered, deepening the longer he looked at you. “Yeah,” he said softly, eyes dragging over you in a way that felt deliberate. “I figured.”

And for some reason, that calm certainty caught you more off guard than if he’d reacted at all.

back to 𓂅 ⊹ navigation , taglist ©STURNENTRIES all rights reserved ︵ ⊹. 08/14/25

BE ®️IGINAL ──── @fmalewokk @lyingonchris @macsangel @b-eharrlichkeit @grace-sturnz @nickstvrnbias @whore4-chrissturniolo @sturns-mermaid @mattsbunnyxx @chrissturniolodailysluts @chrissbxby @weirdothatwrites @courta13 @laila-sturniolo0 @ivysturnss

[sturnentries]

. ⋮ ₍ 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𓏲 ⌗ 𓈒 ──── ꒰ photographer!matt ⅋⅋ onlyfans!reader ꒱ ╱ ⋆    ་ :: this au is mainly smut based, so most prompts will contain themes of sexual content, mature situations, and nsfw dynamics. read at your own discretion.

The apartment is packed, heat radiating off bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, bass vibrating through the floor. Dim light pools in the corners, catching the haze from cheap smoke and the glint of half-empty bottles littering the counters. You’re somewhere in the mess of it all when your mutual friend calls out to a guy leaning against the wall, camera strap slung crossbody like an extra limb. He’s dressed simple—vintage Levi’s, plain white tee, silver chain resting just above his collarbone—but he stands out anyway, the kind of attractive that doesn’t need trying.

She asks him for a picture, loud over the music. He straightens, stepping forward without hesitation, his hand already curling around the smaller camera hanging against his hip. The group forms quickly, bodies shuffling into position. You’re part of it, standing close to the friend in the center. His eyes flick over everyone, landing on you for just a fraction too long before he looks through the viewfinder. A couple of quick adjustments—“little to the left,” “yeah, that’s better”—then the soft click of the shutter, over and over.

When he’s done, he gives the group a brief look at the shots, nods once, and turns back toward the quiet corner he’d claimed earlier. Minutes pass before you peel away from your friends, weaving through the crowd until you find him again. Without asking, you drop into the seat beside him, close but not touching.

“Can I see the pictures again?” you ask, voice pitched low to cut under the music. He looks at you, a small smirk pulling at his mouth, and nods. The camera comes up, his thumb scrolling until the shots from earlier appear. You lean in, scanning the small screen.

“So, you’re good with cameras and stuff?”

His gaze flickers to you instead of the screen, the corner of his mouth curling like he’s trying not to laugh. “Somethin’ like that,” he says, voice low, almost swallowed by the bass. “I’ve been doin’ it for a while.”

You hum, eyes still on the photos. “They’re good,” you admit, lips tugging into a small smile. “You actually made me look decent.” His brow lifts, an incredulous look paired with a quick huff of air. “Don’t give me too much credit—you made it easy.” The way he says it isn’t overplayed, but it lands anyway, something unspoken hanging in the space between you.

The conversation drifts easily after that. You ask how long he’s been shooting, if he does it for work or just for fun. He tells you about starting young, always carrying a camera like it’s second nature. The words themselves are harmless, but the way he’s looking at you isn’t. His eyes are steady, scanning your face like he’s framing another shot in his head. You match him without thinking—smiling a little too long, brushing his arm lightly when you laugh at something he says. Once, when your shoulder nudges his, his hand shifts just enough to rest along the edge of his thigh, close enough that you could bridge the gap if you wanted to.

He smiles often, but sometimes it’s paired with a subtle bite to his bottom lip, a flicker that’s gone as quickly as it comes. You notice, and you don’t look away.

Someone calls his name from across the room, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t even glance over. He’s still watching you, one elbow resting casually on the back of the couch like you’re the only thing in focus in a crowded frame.

The noise of the party hums around you, but it’s all background. He shifts slightly, angling toward you, knee brushing yours in a way that feels deliberate. “You ever been in front of a real camera?” he asks, voice steady but threaded with something heavier than casual curiosity.

You tilt your head. “Define real.”

He smirks, eyes dragging over your face before meeting your gaze again. “Not an iPhone. Not a blurry digital camera. I mean a real shoot.”

You shake your head, feigning disinterest but unable to hide the curve of your mouth. “Can’t say I have.”

He leans back just enough to look at you fully, one arm draped across the back of the couch. “We should change that.”

It’s said simply, like it’s not an offer so much as a statement, and you catch yourself holding his stare a beat too long. “You think you could handle that?” you ask, tone light but laced with a challenge.

His grin widens, slow and sure. “Yeah. I could handle it.”

You pull your phone from your pocket, unlocking it and sliding it toward him. He takes it without hesitation, his thumb moving as he types in his number. When he hands it back, his fingers brush yours, lingering for the barest moment.

“Don’t flake,” he says.

You stand, slipping your phone away, and glance over your shoulder as you head back toward the crowd. He’s still watching you, elbow propped lazily, lips tugged in a knowing half-smile. Just before you disappear into the noise, there’s a faint click—so soft you almost miss it. He lowers the camera from his face, a candid already saved, one you won’t see until later.

back to 𓂅 ⊹ navigation , taglist ©STURNENTRIES all rights reserved ︵ ⊹. 08/14/25

BE ®️IGINAL ──── @fmalewokk @lyingonchris @macsangel @b-eharrlichkeit @grace-sturnz @nickstvrnbias @whore4-chrissturniolo @sturns-mermaid @mattsbunnyxx @chrissturniolodailysluts @chrissbxby @weirdothatwrites @courta13 @laila-sturniolo0 @ivysturnss

[sturnentries]

◞ 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⌗ 𓈒 ⁴⁴⁴ ⋆  𓂅 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐒!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆, ❝𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐀❞ 𝐁𝐘 𝐆𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐀 ⤸

𝜗℘. better known as lucky, lace bras draped over chairs, lip gloss on every surface, bengal cat named coco, matt's hoodies with nothing under, cluttered vanity full of perfume bottles, gold hoop earrings, sipping wine in the bath almost every night, cheeky captions, lingerie sets in every color, victoria’s secret angel, gloss-stained mugs, half-zipped boots on the floor, body oil glistening under led lights, soft giggles into the camera, tattoos in places you can’t see with clothes on, loves teasing but hates being teased back, dim fairy lights, pink and orange-tinted room, your name always trending, lashes for days, sleeps naked

BE ®️IGINAL ──── @fmalewokk @lyingonchris @macsangel @b-eharrlichkeit @grace-sturnz @nickstvrnbias @whore4-chrissturniolo @sturns-mermaid @mattsbunnyxx @chrissturniolodailysluts @chrissbxby @weirdothatwrites @courta13 @laila-sturniolo0 @ivysturnss

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◞ 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⌗ 𓈒 ⁴⁴⁴ ⋆  𓂅 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐑!𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆, ❝𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐀❞ 𝐁𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐎 ⤸

𝜗℘. accent wall covered in polaroids, canon strapped crossbody, messy rings of film canisters on his desk, coco's best friend, vintage levi’s, plain white tees, bitten nails, loves to thrift, silver chains, wakes up early to catch the sunrise, old converse, scruffy jawline, boy with a muse, lens always trained on reader, takes reader's instagram pictures, rings clicking against the camera body, keeps exclusive polaroids of reader in his wallet, smirky, flirts with his eyes, bruised knuckles from winding film, low raspy voice when he’s tired, film dust in the air, hands always smelling faintly of developer

BE ®️IGINAL ──── @fmalewokk @lyingonchris @macsangel @b-eharrlichkeit @grace-sturnz @nickstvrnbias @whore4-chrissturniolo @sturns-mermaid @mattsbunnyxx @chrissturniolodailysluts @chrissbxby @weirdothatwrites @courta13 @laila-sturniolo0 @ivysturnss