#bodyguard!matt ⟢

[slushysturniolo]

𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙!𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩 𝙭 𝙣𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙪

𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙!𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩

𝙣𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨:

𝘽𝙚𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚: 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

𝘿𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚

𝙂𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙙

𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙨:

𝙩𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙨

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨

[r0seb100d]

Dare I say my favourite genre of man

[savebylou]

Craig Sherwood passed away, he was the production manager and director of touring for Louis. I wanted to make a post to share some messages of people that worked with him, as a way to honor him and thank him for his work. So sad to hearing about the news, sending condolences to his family, friends and love ones. Rest in peace Craig.

The comments on John's post:

Ben Pitts from seven 7 management:

You can read the fans comment of how kind he was on tour in this post and this other one. Rest in peace Craig, thank you for your work and kidness [x x x x x x x x x x x, 17.06.25, x x x, 18.06.25, x x x x x, 25.06.25, x]

[avroravia]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ “OH HONEY, HONEY, I COULD BE YOUR BODYGUARD…”

- bodyguard! dallas winston x spoiled!actress! reader

: ̗̀➛ summary. when spoiled!actress! reader makes it as the star of hollywood’s latest blockbuster, her parents are desperate to keep her safe; which is why they hired dallas as her bodyguard. (even if he probably has a longer criminal record than the men her parents are worried about!)

: ̗̀➛ warnings. old married couple bickering, swearing, striptease(?), very flirty.

: ̗̀➛ taglist. @diorgirl444, @r0seb100d, @johnnycadesslut, @twobitsblade, @browneyebby / @isasweetie, @glxsyymads, @mystiqueonfleek007, & @beyondbluess. (send an ask or dm to be added! <3)

you sat facing your vanity, freshly straightened hair neatly tucked in rollers and setting powder patted under your eyes. you were still in your pink silk robe, white fur lining the hems, because you wouldn’t dare to risk ruining your gown.

your hair and makeup team ran around the room to ensure you looked perfect for the big night. from coffee to hairspray, every need of yours was met instantly.

dallas was tucked by your side like always, sitting in the chair beside you. he had been ready hours before you, your team having been on it as soon as possible.

dallas hadn’t been one for a pampered lifestyle. in fact, he applied for the job as a joke, but when your parents read 6’2 and 200 lbs, they decided he was perfect for the job. and who was dallas to deny 6-figures, hanging out with a gorgeous actress, and a free place to stay at night?

he couldn’t complain, however. dallas had every single one of his needs met fully. and he couldn’t lie, it was fun bragging to tim that he got paid to hang out with a hot soc actress all day.

regardless, you can take a greaser out of the grease, but you can’t take the grease out of the greaser. dallas was living proof of this, and despite having walked his fair share of red carpets by now, he never got quite used to the whole fame thing.

he sat in the wooden foldable chair of your dressing room, bad posture, manspreading, and itching for a cigarette. dallas was like a greaser trapped in the body of a soc.

“christ, doll, this fuckin’ tie is choking my neck…” dallas groaned, fingers tugging against the grey satin fabric.

you turned over to look at him, brows furrowing at the sight of him loosening his tie. tugging at his wrist, dallas winced when you slightly dug your fresh pink acrylics into his pale skin.

“will you stop that?” you hissed, arms crossed. “gonna ruin all of my pictures… and will you quit slouching?”

“alright-alright, cool it, doll…” dallas brushed you off, quietly fixing his tie back to your liking

your makeup artist quickly chided you for furrowing your brows and creasing your concealer. she quickly fixed it, before you shut your eyes so she could apply the final touches to your eye makeup.

once she had finished, and your hair stylist had removed your rollers, you were ready for the finishing touches of your look. despite this, dallas had other plans.

“hey- look, give her a little space, yeah?” he told your hairstylist and makeup artist, standing up to meet their gazes when he realised you were almost finished.

the two girls looked at him, confused at his sudden conversation considering he usually ignored them.

“are you sure? we have to make sure she puts it on right-” your makeup artist was quickly cut off by him.

“she’s got it.” dallas assured them, guiding (forcing) them out of your dressing room. “she’s a big girl, she can put on a little dress by herself.”

the two of them didn’t argue, dallas was intimidating after all. when he had shut the door in their faces, and clicked the lock on the room shut, he turned around to look at you.

“well aren’t you going out too, dally?” you teased, looking up at dallas through thick, false lashes.

“nah. see i’m your bodyguard, doll. s’my job to make sure you’re safe.” dallas told you, sitting back down in his designated chair. “who knows what kinda weirdo’ll sneak in if i ain’t around, huh?”

you only sighed, getting up to grab the freshly steamed pink silk dress off of the hanger. as you were about to change, you noticed that dallas was very obviously watching.

“aren’t you gonna turn around?”

“no way. gotta make sure nobody’s sneakin’ up on you, baby.”

despite murmuring something about dallas being a ‘perv,’ you accepted his decision without a fight. he was your bodyguard after all. he only wanted to keep you safe… right?

letting your robe fall to the floor, exposing nearly your entire body to him. dallas watched, eyes wide and grin big. he couldn’t help but admire the sight of you in a little pink thong and matching bra.

in true dallas fashion, he was quick to let out a low whistle and a cheeky remark about your ass. you just rolled your eyes, and slipped your dress on.

“dal,’ you wanna help me zip it up?” you offered, turning your back to him.

“yeah, i gotchu, baby.” dallas hummed, emerging from his seat.

his arm wrapped around your waist, making you giggle. he quickly zipped it up, before accompanying it with a kiss on your neck and a light pat on your ass over the soft fabric of your dress.

“god, i can’t wait to take this off tonight…”

[cayleeuhithinknott]

valentine’s day with bodyguard!matt.

heart divider: @bernardsbendystraws

pairing: bodyguard!matt & popstar!reader

valentine’s day isn’t exactly in his job description.

matt’s job is to protect you. to make sure no crazed fan gets too close, no paparazzi backs you into a corner, no threat ever reaches you. he’s supposed to blend into the background, standing firm between you and the rest of the world. he’s not supposed to indulge in things like this—soft, sentimental, dangerously affectionate things.

and yet.

he’s standing in front of you in the doorway of your hotel suite, arms crossed, watching as you unwrap a single red rose from the cream-colored silk ribbon he tied around it.

you run your fingers along the delicate petals, smiling as you bring it to your nose. “you got me flowers?” you tease, glancing up at him with an amused glint in your eyes. “that’s cute, matt. are you blushing?”

his expression doesn’t falter, but the sharp exhale he lets out tells you everything. “don’t push it, rosebud,” he murmurs, stepping further into the room.

you bite your lip to keep from grinning, but the warmth in your chest is impossible to ignore. for a man as closed off as matt, gestures like this aren’t just sweet—they’re monumental.

“you didn’t have to do all this,” you say softly, setting the rose down on the table. beside it sits a tray of your favorite chocolates, a bottle of wine, and—your heart clenches—a handwritten note in matt’s unmistakable scrawl.

he shrugs, hands slipping into the pockets of his suit. “figured you deserved something nice.”

god, he’s impossible.

your chest tightens with affection as you pick up the note, your fingertips brushing over the edges before unfolding it. matt shifts behind you, clearing his throat like he suddenly regrets writing it, but you ignore him, scanning the words he so carefully penned.

happy valentine’s, rosebud. don’t go making a big deal out of this. but you should know—i’d do a hell of a lot more than this for you. always. — matt ㅤ��̈ ‪‪❤︎‬

your stomach flutters.

you turn to face him, heart racing. “matt…”

he shakes his head, already anticipating whatever sentimental thing you’re about to say. “don’t.”

you take a step closer. “i have to.”

he sighs, running a hand down his face before muttering, “you’re really gonna make me regret this, aren’t you?”

you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck. “absolutely.”

his hands find your waist, firm and sure, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. you expect him to pull away—to remind you that this isn’t part of the job—but he doesn’t. he just holds you there, staring down at you with that unreadable expression that makes your knees weak.

“you’re sweet,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

he hums, thumb brushing lightly against your hip. “only for you.”

your breath catches.

there’s a shift. a slow, lingering moment where the air thickens, where the space between you crackles with something heavy, something unspoken.

his fingers tighten their grip just a little. his body inches closer to yours.

“you have no idea,” he murmurs, voice dropping, “how hard it is to keep my hands off you sometimes. how hard it is to keep my thoughts to myself.”

your pulse stutters.

“then don’t,” you whisper.

his eyes darken. matt’s fingers flex against your waist, grip tightening like he’s barely restraining himself. his jaw tics, eyes dragging slowly down your body, taking his time, like he’s committing every inch of you to memory.

“you have no idea what you do to me,” he mutters, voice thick and low. “the only reason i keep my hands somewhat to myself is because if i start…”

his lips graze your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine. his hands slip lower, fingers skating over your hips before sliding down, gripping your ass with a slow, deliberate squeeze.

“i won’t stop until you can’t even fucking stand.”

your breath hitches, heat curling deep in your stomach as his fingers flex, his body pressing closer, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

he leans in, mouth brushing against your skin, voice dropping even lower.

“strictly off the record, of course.”

at that point, you knew that by the end of tonight, all you’d remember was how he made you forget everything but him.

a/n: okay i loved this like okay tensionnnn okay sexyy

tags: @sturniolo04 @admeliora94 @alexturnersgooch @snuffbut @strnilolover @frattboychris @marrykisskilled @mqttittude @purpledragon222 @aubsloveschris @slctsblogana @emely9274 @oliviasthatgirl @conspiracy-ash @matthewsroses @pasteldreams

[mattsstarlet]

new content .ᐟ୨୧

ੈ✩‧₊˚ bodyguard!matt x princess!user bot

ੈ✩‧₊˚ fwb! chris texts

who wants it? lmk!! 🤭

[coolthingsguyslike]

[the80s]

My Bodyguard (1980)

[ellieswr1d]

élodie yung ~

1. gods of egypt

2. let her

3. & 4. armani ad w ryan reynolds

[slushysturniolo]

𝘽𝙚𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚

⤷ 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙!𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩 𝙭 𝙣𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

The door slams behind, the sound echoing in the black SUV, your head feeling foggy from the loud music and alcohol. Your dress is riding high on your thighs, and you notice a tear in your stockings. You kick your heels off with a heavy sigh, fumbling in your bag to find your vape. 

Matt glances at you in the backseat, your drunken body language igniting a fire in him. He scans the area again before climbing in the back with you, signaling your driver to drive. His jaw clenches the second he meets your eyes; you can see the vein in his temple pulsing. 

“Put your seatbelt on,” his voice is even, despite the obvious irritation behind it. 

You look up from your purse and roll your eyes. “Where is my vape?” you slur. 

Matt reaches over, buckles your seatbelt with a sigh, and picks up the vape from right in front of you. “You need to be more careful,” he mutters, handing it over.

“I’m fucking fine, Matt. I’m a big girl, plus, isn't that why I have you?” You take a long drag from your vape, blowing the strawberry mango smoke in Matt's face. “To protect me?” 

Matt waves the smoke from his face, shuts his eyes, and takes a long, deep breath. It’s not that Matt hates being a bodyguard; he’s ex-military, takes pride in protecting and serving, he just hates being your bodyguard. You were the most insufferable and entitled client he has ever worked for. Your dad needed a quick fix after your last scandal, where you were caught drunkenly peeing behind a bar and flipping off the paparazzi once you noticed. Matt respected your dad, so here he is: stuck in the backseat with a girl who’s never had to work for anything in her life. 

“You have me because you don’t know how to behave,” he says, cocking his head. “Do you think it's wise to try to lose me in a crowd? At a packed club? Wearing that?” He gestures to the short black lingerie dress you’re wearing. 

“Why do you care what I’m wearing?” You cross your legs, and your dress rides up even higher. Matt doesn’t let his eyes look below your face. 

“I care because you’re too drunk to notice the men gawking at you. Following you. Trying to get close. Do you realize you left your drink unattended five times?” he shook his head. “Don’t you realize that people know who you are? Who your dad is?”

You scoff. “Whatever,” you stretch out, your French-tipped manicure toes landing on Matt’s combat boots. “You found me every time.”

“That’s not the point.” he moves his feet away, and you huff like a child. “You need to stay by me, understand?” Matt notices you’re on your phone, texting, ignoring him completely. He snatches the device from your hands.

“Hey!” you whine, reaching for your phone, but Matt holds it high out of reach.

“No phone until you listen,” he scolds, earning another famous eye roll from you. “You love to say how you don’t need a babysitter and that you’re an adult, so I invite you to act like one. Stay by my side when we go out and stop being reckless; you’re going to get hurt.” his voice is low and commanding. 

You lay your head against the window, letting the hum of tires drown him out. You were pissed when your dad hired him; you didn’t need a bodyguard. Okay, maybe you liked to party a little hard, but so what? What twenty-one-year-old didn’t?

When you met Matt, the first thing you noticed was his eyes; they were a deep, piercing blue. He stood stone-faced beside your father, listening as he explained why you needed a bodyguard.  “It’s for your safety,” your dad said. “We can’t keep letting things like this happen,” he explained. Who cares that you peed on the side of the road when you were drunk and flipped off the paparazzi? The lines were long, and the paparazzi were invading your privacy. 

You thought you’d be able to win over Matt, charm and manipulate him like you did with everyone in your life. Bat your lashes, short skirts, maybe flirt a little. But he made it significantly clear from the start that that would not be the case. He did his job and did it right. He felt like a glorified babysitter, and it pissed you off, and it didn’t help that he was so hot, and it felt like he wanted nothing to do with you. 

You realize he has stopped talking.

“Fiiine, Matthew,” you settle on, giving him a fake smile. “Whatever you want,” you put your hands up in mock surrender. 

Matt narrows his eyes, his jaw tightening at your sarcastic tone. “You think everything is a joke.”

You grin, leaning back in your seat, twirling a strand of your hair. “Oh, relax, soldier, you need to learn to let go, live a little,” you tease. “I heard you, you want me to be basically on your lap all night whenever we go out. Got it,”  you salute him with two fingers.

Matt looks away from you, anger boiling up in his chest. He runs his tongue along his teeth like he’s trying to stop himself from saying something he will regret. The vein in his neck is prominent, and you smirk harder. 

“You’re so hot when you’re mad,” you hum, leaning forward, your perfume a blend of sea salt and sweetness, hits him. You know how much it pisses Matt off when you flirt with him, always telling you how inappropriate it was. 

Matt runs a hand over his face before handing your phone back to you. “We’re almost to your apartment,” he says, his voice flat.

“Wait, I wanna go to McDonald's,” you whine suddenly, looking out the window at the familiar streets.

“Why wouldn’t that be the first thing you mention when getting into the vehicle?” he says through gritted teeth.

“Well, you were too busy lecturing me,” you snap back, already texting again.

Matt takes a deep breath, eyes closed. “Driver, take us to McDonald’s.”

taglist: @y3sterdaysproblem @babyt0matoes

@grace-sturnz @sturnslutz @mattsdiva

[queer-lovebot]

Matt and Neil friendship is so interesting to me. Like Neil is Matt’s platonic soulmate and Matt is the first person on the team to extend kindness to Neil and therefore is someone he would die for. Silliest most normal guys (when together) that get into the silliest activities

[camyfilms]

BODYGUARD 2018

The thing is, David/Dave, I don't need you to vote for me, only to protect me.

[chvoswxtch]

can’t wait for the inevitable conversation between reader and frank about their relationship 🙈 also the matt murdock appearance had me smiling so hard!! can’t wait to see how the rest of the story unfolds!

the next chapter is definitely going to be in my top 3 favorites for this series so far and I can’t wait for y’all to read it 😌

[mattsstarlet]

i miss bodyguard!matt what is he doing???

-🪼

omg bodyguard!matt..

wednesday, 7:39 pm

he is currently a few steps behind princess!reader as she takes her evening walk. later once everyone goes to bed, he’s gonna sneak in her bedroom to talk her out of going on a “date” with some prince.