#matt gray is trying

[mattgrayyes]

Matt Gray is Trying: Search and Rescue

I can’t believe the UK’s 5th emergency service is volunteer-only, and donation-funded!

[none-ofthisnonsense]

Somehow I am utterly unsurprised at Matt Gray knowing AO3.

[rattyallen]

has anybody else watched matt grays new series please its everything actually

[thelittlestspider]

bendis peter is funny to me bc he tries to talk matt out of being kingpin, while 70s-80s peter would've beat him flat for even thinking about it.

[keyrousse]

In which a group of four old friends tries to kill two members of said grup ;)

[randall-lloyd]

phonetoy yuri

[valeisaslut]

Reader asking Ellie to record them fucking, and Ellie ends up getting really into it (love your writing btw!! 💋💋)

say hi to the camera ─⭑.

⭒ word count: 3.6k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ content warnings: film student top!ellie x sub!reader, oral sex (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), strap-on (r!receiving), pussy slapping, hair pulling, filming kink, AFAB!reader, cursing, pet names, rough sex, degradation + praise, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

࿐not part of the collide au (rip my absolute queens... this actually hurt my SOUL but hey sometimes we gotta go out of our comfort zone and get feral for... the craft)

you said it as a joke.

but it landed like a command.

it happens halfway through straddling her on the couch, your body already buzzing from the way she’s kissing you—slow and deep, like she’s trying to memorize your mouth. her palms are hot under your shirt, fingertips dragging slow up your ribs.

you lean back just enough to catch your breath, grin sharp as ever.

"you should record this next time."

her lips pause at your throat. she stays there, a little shocked, mouth barely grazing your skin, and then—voice low, amused:

"you want me to record you while i fuck you?"

you shrug, all fake casual, even though your pulse jumps.

"i mean… why not? could be hot."

ellie pulls back just enough to look at you. blinks once. and then she grins—all trouble. her hands drag down your sides, deliberate now, like she’s already directing the first shot.

"you want a sex tape, baby?"

your smile widens. "just for me. like, when you're gone late working on a project and i’m in bed missing you."

she groans. like, actual full-body groan. throws her head back against the couch, rubs a hand over her face like you’ve just ruined her life.

"jesus fucking christ. you’re evil."

you tilt your head. "you love it."

her gaze snaps back to you—darker now, her pupils blown wide, her lip caught between her teeth.

"i will story-board the fuck out of it. lighting. blocking. sound. i'll give you a score."

"you’re such a nerd."

“and you’re the one asking a film major to make a porno, so who’s the real nerd here?”

you laugh, leaning in to kiss her, grinding down on her lap.

“bet you’d narrate the whole thing like, ‘scene one—fucking my girlfriend. interior. night. single cam. practical lighting.’”

she chokes on a laugh, then groans, fingers digging into your hips. “shut the fuck up.”

“no, seriously—‘fade in: slut on couch. extreme close-up. one long take. raw as hell.’”

“i’m gonna ruin you,” she growls, and this time it’s not a joke—rough, all threat and promise.

you just smirk, mouth barely brushing hers.

“yeah, but make it auteur.”

she doesn’t bring it up again for a week. you think she’s forgotten, or maybe it was just talk—a shared fantasy that slipped between the couch cushions and the memory of her mouth on your neck.

but then it’s saturday night. you’re fresh from the shower, hair damp and clinging to your neck, skin still warm, still smelling like her soap. you’re wearing her old gray t-shirt—soft, stretched, worn in the best way—and nothing underneath.

ellie’s already in the bedroom. the lights are low, shadows moving slow across the walls. deftones plays from the speaker—just enough to feel in your ribs, not loud enough to distract.

when you step into the room, you freeze. she’s sprawled out on the bed in a black tank top and boxers, one knee bent, and a camera aimed straight at you.

not her phone. not some propped-up, shaky little attempt at homemade porn. a real camera—matte black, compact, handheld, with a flip-out screen angled toward her face and that unmistakable red recording light already glowing steady.

the kind of camera that says she’s thought about this. planned it. maybe even fantasized about how she’d frame you, light you, direct you. and now you’re here. standing in the doorway, already caught in the first shot.

“wait,” you say, blinking. “are you for real?”

she doesn’t even flinch. just looks up from behind it and grins, wide and wolfish.

“oh, i’m for real,” she says, voice warm and smug.

you snort, tugging the hem of your shirt down instinctively, "with a real fucking camera?"

"yeah, wanna see it in 4K" she responds, tilting it, lens still trained on you. "why? don’t get all shy on me now, babe. you're the one who said record it."

“yeah,” you arch a brow. “i just didn’t think i was dating a one-woman a24 production crew.”

“you’re not,” she says, adjusting the zoom. “you’re dating a visionary.”

you try not to laugh but fail.“you look like a lesbian scorsese.”

“and you look like the hottest thing i’ve ever filmed,” she says, voice thick, thumb adjusting the focus. “so maybe be nice to your director.”

you stay where you are for a second. let her film you standing still. let her zoom in the curve of your thighs, the way the shirt clings to your chest, the outline of your nipples through the fabric. the tension builds between frames, between your breaths.

“you’re actually committing to this?” you ask, voice softer now, a little breathless, as if the heat in the room just kicked up a notch.

“baby,” she says, adjusting the focus without even looking away, “i’ve been storyboarding this in my head since before we even spoke.”

her voice is calm, almost sweet—like it’s not the filthiest thing she’s ever admitted.

“freak,” you mutter, but you’re smiling, laughing again—breathier this time. your body already giving in. you step closer, hips loose, eyes locked on hers.

ellie lifts the camera a little higher, tracks the shift of your body as if she’s afraid to miss a second.

“show me,” she whispers, tone low but teasing. “come on, give me a show.”

and you give her one. you lift the hem of the shirt slowly. not for her—for the lens. you know exactly how this is going to look in playback. the glow of your skin in this light. the way your body starts to reveal itself, line by line.

you pull it over your head and let it drop to the floor, nipples stiffening in the cold air. your stomach tenses under her gaze, and you don’t try to hide the shine between your thighs.

she makes a noise—somewhere between a sigh and a curse—and the camera dips for half a second, like her hand twitched. you see her throat bob as she swallows.

you know that look. she’s not sure whether to keep filming or drop the thing entirely and fall to her knees.

and god, it turns you on even more.

"still rolling?" you ask, voice sugar-laced, cocky.

ellie nods once, "yeah. fucking hell, yeah."

you step closer, slower this time. not acting. not pretending. this isn’t performance—it’s instinct. it’s power. the way she’s looking at you, mouth parted, eyes glazed behind the viewfinder. you know she’s turned on before she’s even touched you.

“you better not cut the part where i called you a pervy little director,” you tease, all teeth.

ellie lowers the camera just enough to meet your eyes, flushed and slightly out of breath. hand still holding the lens like a lifeline.

“cut it?” she says. “i’m putting it in the trailer.”

you grin. shift your weight, your thighs brushing.

“turn around,” she says next, and it’s not a suggestion.

it’s gravel and gravity, all command. her voice has slipped into that other place—firm, sure, focused. all director mode.

you smirk but do what she says. slowly, hips swaying. your hands drag down your own waist as you pivot, and when your back is to her, you arch slightly—just enough. let her see the full curve of your ass, the slick glinting between your thighs.

behind you, there’s a sharp exhale.

"jesus christ," she mutters. then the soft mechanical buzz of her adjusting the zoom.

you don’t need to see her to know she’s locked in. her eyes drinking in every inch, the red light on the camera the only thing keeping her from touching you already.

you glance back lazily. “so, you gonna keep filming, or are you gonna fuck me?”

and that’s it.

the camera dips. her body snaps to attention like it’s muscle memory.

you’re pulled back towards the bed in one smooth movement—no hesitation. the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you drop, your body folding back on your elbows, legs parting without a hint of shame.

ellie stands over you, camera raised.

“holy shit,” she mutters.

she brings the camera lower, letting it drink you in, between your legs, over the slick. the way your chest rises and falls, nipples peaked, skin glowing.

“look at you,” she says. “you’re already dripping, just from being filmed.”

you shift, thighs tightening, and she catches the movement.

"such a fucking dirty girl," she mutters, one hand ghosting over your stomach.

she places the camera down on the nightstand, still rolling, still angled at your spread legs and heaving chest. her focus is so fucking precise it sends a wave of arousal through you all on its own.

and then ellie kneels between your legs like it’s her altar.

angel starts playing low in the background, slow and dark.

has she even prepped the soundtrack? you wonder for a second, half-laugh, half-moan.

(of course she did.)

she starts with your knee. presses her mouth there, slow and warm, a kiss that lingers just a second too long before she trails it upward. her hands follow—one curling firm around your thigh like she owns it, the other gliding up the center of your stomach, dragging heat in its wake.

she slips her palm higher, sliding between your ribs, under the soft weight of your breast.

her thumb brushes over your nipple and you gasp, chest lifting into her hand like you’ve forgotten how to do anything else but respond.

"you feel that?" she murmurs, voice low, like it’s just for you even though the camera’s still blinking red. "your heart’s beating so fucking fast."

you open your mouth to say something smart, something flirty, but then she’s kissing up your thigh again and the thought dies on your tongue.

she reaches your stomach, then your sternum, then your collarbone—and instead of diving down immediately, she pauses. tilts her head. looks at you.

and kisses you.

hot and deep, all tongue and teeth. one of those messy, all-consuming kisses that steals the breath right out of your lungs.

you moan into it—she swallows the sound greedily. her fingers are already moving again. one circling your nipple, the other caressing your side.

she pulls back just enough to speak, her lips grazing your cheek, then your jaw.

"you're perfect" she says, kissing beneath your ear, down your throat, impossibly reverent.

your hips roll up involuntarily, and she smiles against your collarbone.

"getting impatient, baby?"

"ellie—fuck—"

she chuckles. not unsympathetic—just pleased. her mouth finds your nipple next, tongue dragging over it slow, flicking, then sucking it into the heat of her mouth. her other hand moves to your other breast, squeezes gently, then rougher, thumb teasing over the tip until you whine.

"god, these tits," she mumbles against your chest, "camera’s not even doing them justice."

your back arches when her palm lands flat on your stomach, sliding lower, past your hip, fingers teasing the edge of your thigh.

"ellie," you gasp again, helpless this time.

she lets your nipple go with a soft, wet pop. looks up at you from your chest, mouth slick, green eyes lit up with that impossible mix of her—tender and ravenous, as if she wants to worship you and devour you in the same breath.

she shifts downward, dragging her tongue along the slope of your breast, down your stomach, until she’s eye level with your pussy. you’re throbbing, already wrecked, thighs trembling just from the anticipation of her mouth.

she glances at the nightstand, double-checking the angle like it matters. then brings her fingers to your folds, spreading you open with both thumbs, totally entranced by the sight.

“say hi to the camera, baby,” she teases, looking up at you.

and then, without warning, her tongue drags a slow, devastating stripe from your entrance to your clit.

you moan—loud, raw, helpless, trying to lift your hips but her free hand is already there, pressing you down into the mattress.

"f-fuck!" you whimper, voice cracking.

"that's right," she murmurs, licking again. "let it hear every fuckin’ sound."

she starts working you in earnest now—tongue circling your clit in tight, practiced spirals, her mouth warm and greedy. she moans against you, like the taste of you is enough to drive her insane. you can feel every vibration down to your toes.

your hands are tangled in her hair, thighs wide open, whole body arching into her mouth. she slips one hand between your legs and slides a finger inside—curling just enough to make your spine seize.

"holy shit," you gasp. "oh my god—Ellie—"

"more," she whispers against your clit, sliding in a second finger "let it see how messy you get for it."

and then she reaches back—without stopping—grabs the camera from the nightstand with her free hand, flips the screen toward you, and holds it low between your bodies. the image blinks into view—a live, unfiltered shot: your pussy stretched around her fingers, your mouth agape and brows furrowed, your thighs shaking with every thrust.

“you seeing this, baby?” she mutters, eyes flicking between you and the viewfinder. “fuck, look at you.”

and god—you do. you watch yourself fall apart in real time, every wet sound, every twitch of your stomach from overstimulation, every pump of her fingers, every gasp on full display. like it’s art, like it’s proof.

and it’s probably the filthiest, most turned on you have ever felt in your life.

its holy and obscene at the same time—your body laid bare, her fingers deep inside you, your face twisted with pleasure, and all of it immortalized in perfect footage.

you can’t look away. neither can she.

"ellie—please—I’m gonna—"

"do it," she growls, "come f’me, come for the camera."

you come with a cry that splits the room, loud, shaking. your thighs squeeze around her hand and your back lifts off the mattress, body wrung out like a rag.

she doesn’t stop, just slows her pace, works you through it. you’re trembling when she finally pulls away, kisses your thigh, and sits back with the camera resting on her bent knee. she lifts it, points it at your face.

you’re flushed, sweaty. lying in a wrecked halo of your own making.

“so damn perfect like this” she mutters, voice a rasp. "you want more?"

you nod, chest heaving.

"words."

"yes," you whisper. then louder, like she needs to hear it. like the camera does, too. "yes. fuck, yes. please fuck me."

and she grins like the devil.

she tosses the camera onto the nightstand—still recording, angled just right, lens slightly askew—but it only makes it hotter, messy, real. something she’ll watch for hours with her hand down her boxers.

she doesn’t say anything as she crosses the room, opens the drawer, and pulls out the harness. it’s not slow or performative. it’s practiced, casual. she straps it over her black boxers with one hand, the other slicking lube over the thick purple silicone cock. it gleams in the low light, catching the flash of the camera’s red recording dot.

you’re already moving, your body shifting on instinct—onto your hands and knees, face buried in the sheets, ass high in the air like it’s muscle memory.

ellie looks at you and lets out a sound from deep in her throat. almost a laugh, mostly a groan.“stay just like that.”

she climbs behind you, smooth and silent. spreads your cheeks with both hands and groans when she sees how soaked you are.

"fuck, baby. you made a whole fuckin' mess back here."

"ellie—"

she leans down, kissing the small of your back, then bites your ass, playful and sharp. one hand grips your hip, the other slides between your legs—and she slaps your pussy once, just enough to make you jolt and whine. it’s wet, loud, dirty.

she groans at the sound. "jesus. dripping."

then she drags the head of the strap between your folds, slow and heavy.

"you ready for it?"

you nod frantically, pressing your face into the mattress.

“say it.”

“please fuck me. please, i want it. i need it so bad—”

she wanted to draw it out—make you beg, make you squirm—but she’s just as wrecked as you are, barely holding it together. so when she finally thrusts in, it’s with one deep, steady stroke that knocks the air straight out of your lungs.

you gasp, choking. “jesus christ!—”

“god, look at that,” she breathes, pulling back, watching the way you stretch and suck her back in with the next thrust. “you’re fuckin’ swallowing it.”

her hands find your hips. she sets a brutal rhythm, dragging you back onto her cock with every thrust, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing off the walls. the sound of your moans, the slap of her thighs against your ass, the headboard slamming the wall—it’s filthy.

she leans forward, chest pressed to your back, and wraps one hand around your breast, squeezing, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you whine. her other hand tangles in your hair and yanks your head back.

“you like getting fucked like this?” she hisses in your ear. “like a toy on display?”

“yes—fuck, yes—”

“touch yourself.”

you obey instantly. one hand between your legs, circling your clit in frantic, desperate little motions while she fucks you from behind like she’s trying to split you in two.

you notice that closer is softly but steadily playing, and the camera’s still rolling, capturing everything. the curve of your ass, the tremble in your thighs, the way your body jerks every time she bottoms out.

ellie groans like she feels it too—because she does. she’s grinding against the base of the strap, hungry and relentless, chasing the friction like she’s starved for it. the harness is soaked, her boxers nearly translucent with how wet she is, and every time she thrusts into you, the base rubs right against her clit.

“you gonna come like this?” she pants. “gonna soak my dick like a good little slut?”

“yes—yes—fuck, ellie, i’m gonna—”

“say it.”

“i’m your slut,” you cry out. “i'm your fucking slut—”

and right then, without missing a beat, she grabs the camera off the nightstand, angles it behind you. the lens catches the mess of your ass bouncing against her hips, the wet slap of skin on skin, the slick sound of your cunt stretching around the purple silicone.

and then she slaps your ass, hard. loud enough to echo through the room.

"fuck!" you yelp, back arching, legs shaking violently.

and you come like a landslide. body seizing, muscles locking, then breaking all at once as you scream into the mattress. it rolls through you in waves, loud and long, your thighs trembling, fingers still working yourself as you ride it out.

you feel it when she starts to lose it—her rhythm falters, hips stutter, breath hitching into short, high little gasps. her fingers dig into your waist and she presses forward, deeper, harder, her chest flush to your back like she’s trying to crawl inside you.

“fuck—fuck, baby—i’m—”

her voice cracks, and then she whines—high and helpless, the kind of sound you didn’t know she could make. desperate and slutty and fucking perfect. her whole body goes taut, then shudders, her thighs shaking as she ruts through it. she comes with her face buried in your shoulder, teeth clenched, breath shivering.

the base of the strap is slick and messy between you now, but she grinding against the harness like it’s not enough, never enough. she groans into your skin, broken and dazed, and you can feel her heart pounding against your back.

and when she pulls out, it’s slow and careful, hands suddenly tender where they'd just been rough. she leans forward and kisses your spine—once, then again—her breath hot and uneven against your skin.

“you okay?” she murmurs, palm sliding up your back in soft, grounding strokes.

you nod, barely able to form the word. “better than okay.”

she laughs, quiet and breathless, into your shoulder. a little dazed, wrecked herself.

she rolls you onto your back, her hand never leaving your skin, and collapses beside you. the room is humid with sex, thick with sweat, heat and the echo of everything that just happened. the air itself feels heavy, slow.

in her hand, the camera is still rolling. its red light blinks steadily, casting a faint glow over the two of you.

ellie flips the screen towards herself, then turns the lens on you—zooming in dramatically on your wrecked face.

“say hi, baby” she teases, still catching her breath.

you blink up at the lens, dazed. hair a disaster. lips kiss-bruised. eyes glassy like you’ve just returned from the dead.

“hi,” you mumble, grinning like a fool, “i just got fucked into the stratosphere.”

ellie then pans the camera to her own face—sweaty, flushed, hair sticking to her forehead—and raises both brows like she’s in a documentary.

“filmmaker. method actor. strap goat. i do it all.”

you burst out laughing, weakly swatting at her.

she grins, crooked and proud, turning the camera back to you. “and you just won best actress in a leading role, doll.”

“so, what’s the title?” you ask, giggling into the pillow.

ellie snorts—eyes gleaming like she just won an oscar and knocked someone out in the same damn night. she adjusts the angle, tilts the camera so you’re both in the frame: flushed, sweaty, radiant, completely ruined.

then, with the most serious voice she can manage, she deadpans to the lens—

“the slut and the lesbian scorsese.”

you wheeze. “shut the fuck up.”

“already submitted to sundance, actually.”

“you’re insufferable.”

“director’s cut drops next week.”

you try to slap her but miss—too sore, too high on her, too in love. she just laughs, smug and glowing, and zooms in one last time on your face.

“five stars,” she murmurs, “would absolutely fuck again.”

⭒ perm taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <3): @talyaisvalslutsoldier @miajooz @andiemiaswife @mayfldss @sewithinsouls @coastalwilliams @hotpinkskitties @ssijht @pleasejoel @pariiissssssss @liddy333 @beeisscaredofbees @d1catwhisperer @the-sick-habit @elliescoquettegirl @elliewilliams-wife @yueluv3rrrr @your-eternal-muse @ellies-real-wife @katherinesmirnova @ellies-moth-to-a-flame @thxtmarvelchick @natscloset @lesbiansreverywhere @2against3 @wwefan2002 @ilahrawr @harmonib @piastorys @azteriarizz @starincarnated @natssgf @ukissmyfaceinacrowdedroom @iadorefineshyt @claudiajacobs @urmomssideh0e @kingofeyeliner @womenlover0 @ferxanda @imunpunishable @elliewilliamsloverrrrrrrr @bambi-luvs @maru0uu @mikellie @gold-dustwomxn @nramv

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ omg… first fic NOT set in the collide au in literal MONTHS and it feels SO weird but soooo good to write something different omfg 😭 rockstar!ellie and popstar!reader yall still haunt me everyday. my favorite lesbians for the rest of the eternity. i’ve missed this kind of chaos. huge love and tysm to my gorg mootie who sent this amazing request before i even started collide—you live in my brain rent free forever bby!

i might play around with a few more fics + requests before launching the next big series i’ve been outlining (👀), so stay tuned babes. ily all dearly ♡

Please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on my perm taglist!

credits for divider: @cafekitsune <3 – images from pinterest - edited by me

[nyangsterz]

⋆˚✿˖° Chrome Hearts, Pink Heart ── nishimura riki

SYPNOSIS. He wears black and silver, she wears bows and strawberry lotion.

Riki swears he’s not the kind of guy who'd keep a leopard-print Hello Kitty plush on his desk— but then you gave him one, and now his room looks a little more like yours.

You're turning his world pastel, one plushie at a time.

PAIRING. non idol!ni-ki x reader

GENRES. fluff, gamer riki, nonchalant!riki x hyperfeminine!reader, drabble, established relationship

WORD COUNT. 1.0k

AUTHORS NOTE. ── ★ ˙ฅᨐฅ ̟ !! inspired by this tweet i found a while back, HES SUCH A CUTIE I LOVE HIM!!! and i love me a riki fic with a hyperfem gf, so here we are. I literally RAN to my tumblr to write this after i saw that tweet again. ANYWAYS enjoy!!!

Riki is used to live in a world of black.

Chrome-edged headphones, Chrome Hearts chains, silver rings on every finger, black cargos, black hoodie, and black soul (if you asked him). He smelled like cedarwood and vetiver. His room used to match: matte black speakers, dark gray sheets, and too many energy drink cans cluttering his desk.

But then he started dating you.

A faint scent of strawberries lingered in the air, his sheets had a soft blush-tinted pillow you definitely did not leave on purpose (you did), a pastel green flower claw clip always clipped on to his monochrome bag, a soft-pink hair tie clad on his wrist amongst his silver jewelry, and hanging off the edge of his bedside table was a baby-pink hello kitty headband that he pretended not to notice.

And on his desk?

A Hello Kitty plush.

In a fucking leopard print hoodie.

You drop the plush on his desk with the kind of smug satisfaction only a girlfriend on a mission could have.

Riki doesn’t even turn around. He’s gaming (probably with heeseung), hoodie up, jaw set, the click-clack of his keyboard filling the room. But you wait. Because you know the second he glances down, he’ll react.

“...No,” Riki deadpanned, only looking away for a second. 

You blinked at him, glossy lips pursed, sleeves of his black hoodie bunching at your wrists. 

“Her name’s Kuma. Be nice.”

Mid-game, his headset slipping slightly off his bleach-blonde hair, brows furrowed in that “what the actual fuck” expression. 

Then he paused and turned to you with a deadpan stare for a second before going back to his game.

“…Why is she looking at me like that?”

You grinned, hands clasped behind your back. “Because she’s yours now.”

He blinked. “Absolutely not.”

“She’s for emotional support,” you announced cheerfully, already climbing onto Riki’s lap uninvited, nearly knocking his mouse off the desk in the process.

“Babe—?!” he hissed, jerking slightly in surprise, one hand flying to steady you as you comfortably settled on his thighs, completely unfazed by the intense League of Legends match he was clearly still very much in the middle of.

You held the plush up dramatically in front of his face, dangling it between him and his screen. “Look! Kuma! She’s here to help. You’re always so grumpy when you game—she’ll bring balance to the force.”

Riki leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh, headset askew, giving you a withering look over the top of the plush’s fuzzy ears.

“Are you seriously doing this now?” he muttered, trying (and failing) to peek around the plush and shoot someone. “I’m literally in a 1v3.”

“She believes in you,” you said, voice syrupy sweet. “Unlike me.”

“Wow.”

“She’s also judging your mechanics. Kind of like me.”

He gave you a side-eye so sharp it could cut glass, but his hands never left your waist. Even as he tried to return to the game, he adjusted you gently so you were sitting more comfortably on his lap.

Kuma ended up sitting between your legs, her little beady eyes staring into Riki’s soul every time he glanced down.

Riki gave you a side-eye that was dangerously close to affectionate. “Are you seriously hijacking my game and giving me a judgmental cat?”

You nodded, legs draped over one of his thighs as if this wasn’t a tight fit. “Yes. Accept her. She’s part of the family now.”

“She’s literally staring at me,” he muttered, glancing at the plush propped up on the desk. “I don’t need two of you.”

You gasped. “You mean two adorably soft and supportive girls? You’re welcome.”

He groaned into your shoulder, already wrapping one arm around your waist while his other hand kept playing. You smirked. Mission: Disrupt His Game — complete.

He huffed and leaned forward, nosing into the crook of your neck. You felt his lips curl into a smile. “You’re so annoying.”

You giggled. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

But his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer, your legs swinging gently over the side of the chair. You leaned back to look at him, all glossy lips and sparkling eyes. His thumb brushed over your cheek instinctively, brushing off a little glitter from your highlighter.

“You’re going to start wearing pink soon,” you teased.

“I’ll set myself on fire.”

“I have pink lighters.”

“Of course you do.”

A few days later, you stopped by his place. The room was dark as always, none of his overhead lights were on (as usual) only his lamps were on giving his room a yellow tinge.

You did a double-take when you saw the plush.

It was now wearing one of Riki’s silver chains, resting around its tiny neck like a statement necklace. He had also clipped a pair of sunglasses over its eyes. Balenciaga, no less.

You stared at it for a solid thirty seconds before whispering, “...What the actual fuck.”

“I gave her drip,” came Riki’s voice behind you.

You turned. “You accessorized her?”

“Shes evolving.” You stared at him: tall, moody, dressed in grey sweats and a white tank, hair still damp from the shower.

​​“She’s in your chains.”

“She looked cold.”

You blinked at him. Confused.

“She’s a plushie.”

“And now she’s a bad bitch. Just like you.”

Your heart did a stupid little somersault. “You’re so weird."

He shrugged, walking over to loop his arms around you from behind.

“You’re literally the one who gave me a Hello Kitty in a leopard hoodie.”

“She looks like me.”

“And now she looks like me too,” he shrugged. “Couple goals.”

You leaned into his chest, heart full. “You love her.”

“I don’t.”

“You dressed her like your mini-me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You turned to face him, arms around his neck. “You’re so full of shit.”

He grinned and kissed your forehead. “Maybe.”

You tugged him down by his neck. “Say you love her.”

He looked down at you, smirked, and whispered against your lips: “Only because you gave her to me.”

AUTHORS NOTE. ── ★ ˙ฅᨐฅ ̟ !! thank you for readinggg!!! ive been into writing alot of fluff lately cause theres so many materials on twt, but im FOR SURE going to write some jake smut after a certain video i saw, so be sure to wait for that if ur interested!!!

COMMENTS, FEEDBACKS, NOTES, AND REBLOGS ARE ALL APPRECIATED

[deliwrites]

𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕆𝕦𝕣𝕤 // Saja Boys & Huntr/x

// DATE // 5th of July 2025 → 7th of July 2025 // PAIRING // Huntr/x x Fem!Reader x Saja Boys // WARNING // Suggestive, Jaewon is a b*tch, lots of pet names, mention of assault(not sexual just to make that clear), morally gray behavior, possessiveness, Reader is still oblivious, fluff // WORDS // 2.3k+ // SUMMARY // Y/n finds unexpected warmth in the group's care, but struggles with feeling like a burden. Their quiet reassurances offer comfort, yet her past still haunts her. A late-night moment with Rumi cracks something open - and while she doesn’t know it yet, they’ll do anything to keep her safe.

// Previous // Part five // Next //

a/n: I added one sentence in the last bit of Part three cause reader was wearing a hoodie but in part four she took off her shirt… so now she took off her hoodie in part three. It’s a minor detail but thought I would mention it anyway. Cause it does play a bit of a role in this part I guess.

It was weird yet cozy to spend time with all of them again. Abby, Romance and Jinu were actually great cooks. I’ll admit I moaned out loud at the taste, missing the way the guys shifted in their seats when that little twitch ran through them, and how the girls squished their thighs together. I blushed when I realized they were all looking at me. Their eyes filled with a mix of amusement and desire.

“Sorry,” I whispered, a bit embarrassed by my own reaction, “it’s just really delicious.”

Alright, Abby thought to himself. Guess I’ll be cooking for her more often if it means I get to hear that sound again.

They stayed for a while longer after dinner. They all talked about their schedules for a while. Trying to make sure at least one of them would be home. At all times. For me. I told them it wouldn’t be necessary. They just gave me a look. The kind that said you’re not changing our minds, before going right back to planning.

“Okay, so I’ll be home tomorrow,” Rumi says, one hand pressed to her chest as she stares at her phone. Their - now - shared calendar pulled up. “Baby and Jinu have Wednesday,” pointing at them. “Thursday… Romance, Friday Mira and Zoey,” Zoey makes a soft squealing sound, immediately wrapping her arms around me from behind. Pulling me into her embrace, her chin resting on my shoulder. The two of us were sat next to each other on the couch again, just like before. “Saturday we have a concert,” Rumi continues. “And won’t be home until late, but Mystery and Abby will be home. And you can eat with all of them.”

“I-” I hesitate slightly. “I feel… uhm,” their gazes shift toward me. At first unreadable. A little stern. But then they soften, one by one, letting me continue. “…like a bother,” I murmur, my voice quite. I hadn’t moved from Zoey’s embrace. Still in her arms, my back leaning against her chest. My eyes land on my fingers which remove nonexistent dirt from under my nails. “You’re… changing your schedules,” I point out. “… just to accommodate me,” Zoey squeezes my waist gently, Baby’s hand lands on my leg soft and Mira takes my hands to stop me from fidgeting. “I mean, I’m really grateful, don’t get me wrong,” I rush on, nervously. “It’s just… this is your job. Your life. I don’t want to get in the way of that. Or mess anything up. You all have careers and fans and-” I inhale shakily. “…I’m just… I’m not worth changing everything for.”

Silence. It’s heavy, pressing on like my thoughts are being confirmed.

“Yeobo,” Rumi’s voice is low. “Don’t say that,” my heart seems to stutter at the devotion in her voice. I glance up, her eyes already locked on mine, unwavering.

“You’re not a bother,” Zoey murmurs into my shoulder.

“You’re the reason we want to be home more,” Jinu says from his place next to Rumi, sincerity in his eyes.

“But… you barely know me…”

“We know enough to care,” Baby’s deep voice is steady. The truth in his words undeniable.

“You’re not some stranger,” Mira says gently, still holding my hands like she doesn’t plan to let go. “You matter to us. That’s all there is to it.”

“Making sure you have someone to go to,” Abby starts gently. “It’s a choice. Our choice.”

I blink slowly, my eyes landing on the rug like it will spell out the right words to say. But all I feel is heat rising to my cheeks, again.

“I just…” I breath out. “Don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not,” Mystery says simply, instantly, no hesitation.

“You never could be,” Romance adds, sweet smile on his face that just makes my heart melt. And I physically do, sinking further into Zoey’s hold. And still… some small, stubborn part of me thinks. They’re just being kind. That’s all this is. Nodding, I let them continue. Rumi ends up saying that on Sunday, everyone will be home. Abby suggests a movie night at their place, to which they all agree and I do too when they look at me.

“I’m sorry, do you mind if I go to bed?” I pipe up a little while later. My eyes half lidded. Tired from the emotional day I had.

“You don’t have to ask, Gwiyomi,” Zoey giggles gently, squeezing me softly.

“It is getting quite late. We should probably go too,” Jinu says faking a yawn. I stand up with them and walk in the direction of the stair. But I get stopped by a hand on my wrist.

Turning I find, Baby. Before I can say anything, his lips meet my cheek. A gentle peck which makes my eyes widen in surprise.

“Goodnight, yeobo,” he says softly before walking in the direction of the door. I don’t even have time to recover when another peck gets placed on my cheek.

“Sweet dreams, cheonsaya,” Romance says with a sweet smile, following Baby. Wha-

“Sleep well, gongjunim,” Jinu’s voice is soft, his eyes meeting mine before he too pecks my cheek. Abby is quick to follow, pecking my cheek before he speaks.

“Night, tokkiya.”

“Get some rest, okay, ippeuni?” Mystery asks, making me nod with a confirming noise. A smile grows on his lips and he pecks my cheek too. I feel frozen in time. Heat rushing to my face at the fact they all kissed me goodbye.

“Goodnight,” Mira, Rumi and Zoey say in unison to the boys. Zoey and Rumi wrapping their arms around my waist, while Mira wraps hers around my shoulders from behind. The boys wave before stepping into the elevator.

“Sleep well, Gwiyomi,” Zoey murmurs against my cheek as she presses a gentle kiss there. Rumi does the same on my other cheek, squished between the two. Mira takes Zoeys place and places a peck just below my eye.

“You know where our rooms are,” she says, her smile soft but serious. “If you need anything… just come find us.”

“Okay, thank you,” my voice barely a whisper as I walk up the stairs in a daze.

Seconds later the five return. Teleporting to their original seats like they never left in the first place. The girls joining them again. Handing their phones to Baby without having to communicate. The boys open their phones and follow Y/n on the camera’s.

They see her walk into her room, the lights on her nightstands already on. Closing the door with her back. Leaning against the door for a moment. Even in the dim light of the light the blush is visible on her cheeks.

Her hands find her cheeks, pressing against the warm skin like it betrayed her.

“They are only being friendly, Y/n,” she says to herself. “Stop blushing over their actions,” she continues to scold herself. With a sigh she moves away from the door. Walking into the closet she takes off her sweater, gaze falling to her arm.

“What?” Jinu notices first, drawing the attention of the others. Mira was watching with Abby, Rumi with Jinu and Zoey with Mystery. Baby had the girls phones, installing the same app so they too could keep an eye on her. Peeking every few seconds at Romance’s phone.

“Is that… bruising?” Rumi asked, watching the screen as Y/n’s gaze landed on her upper arm.

“How did I not notice that before,” Zoey scolds herself.

“Because you were too focused on ogling the rest of her body,” Baby smirks at her, which leaves her pouting. Though she doesn’t deny the accusation.

“One last mark…” she mumbles to herself. Sighing she drops her sweater in the hamper, located in the corner of the walk in closet. Taking off her bra, she drops it in there too.

It seems almost instinctive, all five of them turn the screen face down the moment they saw her reach behind her. Sure they wanted to see her like this. But they hadn’t installed the camera’s to watch her undress. It wasn’t about that. Not really. Watching her change felt wrong… and yet they all wanted to. Craved to.

“Jaewon has to pay,” Mira says, voice stern, eyes glowing golden. Abby agrees with a huff.

“Agreed, but not today,” Juni and Rumi say at the same time. The others looking almost offended that they can’t just go and take Jaewon’s soul. It wasn’t hard to find him with him always sharing his whereabouts on his social media.

“Y/n is our first priority,” Jinu adds and everyone somewhat reluctantly agrees. Mira’s eyes returning to her human ones. Zoey peeks at Mystery’s phone again, only turning it back the right way fully when she notices Y/n is dressed in a tank top and a pair of pajama shorts. Exiting the closet she heads for the bathroom. There she brushes her hair, brushes her teeth and does a little bit of skin care, before crawling into the big bed.

She looks so small, their little maknae. The watch for a little while longer, making sure she falls asleep. Until her breathing slows and deepens. Only then do they close the app. For now.

Baby hands the girls their phones back, and this time when they say goodnight, they actually leave the apartment and go to their own. Reluctantly so.

Startled awake, I sit straight in the bed, catching my breath. Staring around the room. I scramble to turn the light on. When I do a sigh of relief leaves my lips. With a hand on my chest I try to calm my heart down.

“He’s not here,” I murmur to myself. “He doesn’t know where you are,” closing my eyes I take a deep breath before laying back down.

I try to go back to sleep, but I can’t. Every time I close my eyes, his just stare back at me. I toss and turn for a while before I give up.

“They said you could find them,” I tell myself. Pulling the covers off of me I tip toe out of bed. Softly opening my door. I have no idea what time it is. The small frosted windows the bedrooms have are dark. At least the one across from my bedroom, and the one two doors down. The middle one being the bathroom.

From the corner of my eye, I notice soft lighting from the room next to mine. With soft steps I walk to the door. Lifting my fist, I hesitate. Biting my bottom lip, gaze going to the floor. They gave you permission, Y/n, come on. Looking back up I knock on the door softly. Not wanting to startle whoever was inside.

I don’t hear anything, but I stay for a bit longer. The hope that blossomed in my chest at the light, slowly simmers.

I’m about to walk away when the door opens. Rumi stands there in a white tank top and pajama pants covered in teddy bears and choo choo trains. I wanna giggle at the sight of them but hold it in.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Sorry to bother you,” I start but she just shakes her head as if to tell me stop apologizing for something I’m not being. “…I had a nightmare… and can’t get back to sleep…” I tell her honestly, standing stiff with my hands clasped together in front of me in embarrassment.

“Oh, nae byeol,” her voice tender and soft. Opening the door further she tugs on my hand and pulls me inside. Closing the door behind us. Tugging me to her bed she pulls back the covers and practically shoves me into her bed. I can’t stop the smile from gracing my lips at the action. She practically tucks me in before joining me on the other side. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, quickly turning off the light before she faces me again. Her hands find my waist, tugging me closer to her.

“It’s just,” I sigh, trying to find the words.

“It’s okay,” pulling my pillow closer to hers, then tugging me even closer. Tangling her legs with mine, her thigh resting against my heat. My cheeks heat up at the feeling and I couldn't be more happy that she turned off the light. “Do you have nightmares often?”

“Yeah,” my answer is breathless, which I hope she doesn’t look further into. “… Jaewon… he…”

“Take your time,” she murmurs, her forehead leaning gently against mine.

“When we broke up, a year ago… he still had a key to my dorm,” I close my eyes letting her closeness be my comfort. “He said he had dropped off the key in the box, you know, the one I had to drop mine in?” I feel Rumi nod against my head. “But… he hadn’t. He uhm-” I take a shaky breath. “There were nights that he would randomly show up.”

“He what?” there is anger in her voice. When I open my eyes I swear I see her eyes flash golden, but I play if off as my eyes adjusting to the darkness.

“… I would wake up with bruises,” I whisper. “All over,” Rumi stiffens. “I… I never remembered how I got them. Not fully,” my hand fists the cover in the small space between us. “But I always remembered his eyes,” I swallow as they flash in my mind. “They glowed. Not like a reflection of the light,” I shake my head, eyes unfocused. His eyes clouding my vision. “They… actually glowed. Bright with anger.”

There’s a long pause. I feel Rumi’s breath, shallow now, fanning against my cheek.

“He said I was imagining things.” I let out a humorless laugh. “That I was just dreaming. But—” My chest tightens. “But the bruises were real. And I always felt… wrong. Like something had happened and I wasn’t allowed to remember it,” her hands tighten at my waist, fingers curling into the fabric of my tank top.

“He can’t reach you here,” she states like a promise. The hand under my body moves around my neck, tugging my head to her chest. “We will make sure of it,” the tone has a darkness to it that I can’t place. “We will protect you.”

// Previous // Part five // Next //

Is there anything you would like to see in any of the next parts? Let me know in the replies or by reblogging! I can't guarantee it will be in it, but your input might give me more ideas!!

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[chrisstvrns]

⌞matt fucking you in the airplane bathroom⌝⸝⸝

warnings: public sex, bathroom sex, rough dom!matt x sub!reader, oral (f receiving), rough sex, unprotected p in v, fingering, nipple play, biting, creampie, possessive matt,

word count: 977

it’s quiet in the cabin. most of first class is asleep or pretending to be. nick’s a few rows back. chris too. you're tucked into your seat in one of matt’s hoodies and soft gray sweatpants, curled up like nothing’s out of the ordinary. you're watching some random movie on the screen, paying no mind to it as you scribble in your journal.

there was still six hours left in the flight to japan, and everything was going smoothly.

but matt? he’s losing his mind.

he shows up beside your seat, crouches slightly, and murmurs low enough only you can hear.

“bathroom. now.”

you blink. “what?”

his eyes are already blown wide. jaw tense. “if i don’t get to fuck you within the next two minutes i’m gonna fucking lose it.”

he doesn’t wait for an answer, just slips back up the aisle toward the bathroom, casual and calm. but you see it in the way his hand clenches into a fist as he walks. he’s barely holding it together.

you hesitate for only a second. then you’re up and following.

the second you step into the bathroom, he locks the door and pounces.

his hands grab your waist, your hoodie, your thighs. he doesn’t even bother starting slow. he lifts you onto the sink like you weigh nothing and pulls your sweatpants and underwear down in one smooth, rushed motion. they stay bunched around your knees, forgotten.

his palms push your thighs wide open.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, staring at you. “look at this pussy. already soaked.”

you shiver at the way he says it. low, reverent. like he’s starved.

he kneels.

and then he’s on you.

his tongue drags through your folds slowly at first. teasing, tasting, breathing heavy against you. he groans like it’s his first real breath in hours. and then he licks you again. and again. and again.

his hands grip your thighs tight, fingers digging in as his tongue flicks over your clit, circling it with slow, wet pressure that has your whole body curling in on itself.

“m-matt—”

he groans again, mouth messier now, faster. he flattens his tongue and drags it up and down your slit, then sucks your clit into his mouth and suckles.

you gasp. your hands fly into his hair, tugging hard, but he doesn’t stop.

you try to close your legs around his head but he forces them open, mouth relentless.

and then he slides two fingers into you. slow, thick, curling them deep.

your breath catches. your hips buck. the sound that leaves you isn’t quiet.

“shhh,” he mumbles against your clit, voice muffled by your body. “keep it down.”

he doesn’t stop.

his fingers thrust into you fast and deep while his tongue works tight circles on your clit, and it’s overwhelming. wet and hot and too much in the best way.

“matt, fuck, i’m-”

“cum,” he growls. “do it now. soak my fuckin’ face.”

you fall apart with a choked cry, hand over your mouth, thighs shaking around his head as he keeps licking, keeps fingering, keeps eating you out like he needs it to survive.

he pulls away only when you’re twitching and gasping, eyes glassy and lips parted.

he stands, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and leans in to kiss you. its slow and dirty, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“told you i’d lose it,” he whispers.

he pulls his sweats down and his rock hard cock springs free. thick, flushed, leaking. he puts his hand right beneath your chin, silently telling you to spit. when you do, he strokes his dick once, then twice, lathering himself in your saliva.

then lines himself up.

“you ready?” he asks, breath ragged.

you nod.

he pushes in slowly at first. lets you feel all of him. fills you deep, so deep you gasp, head falling back against the mirror.

he doesn’t move for a second.

just leans down. pushes your hoodie up to your collarbone and stares at your chest.

“fuck. i love your tits. so pretty” he whispers, one thumb brushing over your sensitive nipple. 

he latches his mouth onto one nipple, sucking, licking, then biting gently, enough to make you gasp.

and then he starts to move.

his hips snap forward again and again, fucking you hard while his mouth stays on your chest. he sucks your nipple between his teeth, then pulls back and bites. you cry out. he switches to the other, giving it just as much attention.

his hands are everywhere. gripping your thighs, pinching your waist, pushing your legs up so he can get even deeper.

your body slaps against the mirror with every thrust. the sound of skin against skin is obscene in the tiny space.

you’re already close again.

“gonna cum?” he pants against your chest. “gonna cum all over my cock?”

you nod, desperate.

he bites your nipple again, and fucks you harder.

“do it. now.”

you cum. hard. crying out into your hand, whole body trembling as you cum a second time, walls clenching tight around him.

he groans. low, guttural. and thrusts deep one more time, hips jerking as he spills inside you, cock twitching with every pulse.

you both breathe heavy for a minute, forehead to forehead.

he brushes your hair off your face.

“you’re never wearing my hoodie around me again,” he says, voice wrecked.

you laugh weakly. “you’re the one who gave it to me before the flight.”

he kisses you.

slow. filthy. full of heat.

then he pulls his hoodie down, helps you off the sink, and tugs your sweatpants back up. his cum leaks out of you instantly. you feel it drip down your thighs as you adjust your clothes.

he notices.

smirks.

“don’t clean it up.”

“matt.”

“nah. i want you leaking when you walk back. i want you thinking about me the whole way.”

you gently hit his chest, giggling.

he grins, holding your hand as you walk back to your seats, nick and chris staring at you in utter disgust.

────────────୨ৎ────────────

aurora's notes: saw this picture and had a dream about this last night and woke up and immediately wrote it ur welcome

- aurora ᯓ✮⋆˙

likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! ੈ✩‧₊˚

to be added to my taglist, comment on this post!

[bratzforchris]

TUMBLR GIRLS ୨ৎ matthew sturniolo

in which. . .you and matt have an on-again, off-again friends with benefits arrangement, but a post you make on tumblr threatens to derail it all

warnings: smut smut smut, intoxicated sex, dirty talk, choking, fingering, oral (f receiving), bondage, tummy bulge, unprotected p in v, lowkey i probably forgot something i wrote this a year ago 😭

wc: 2.9k

*originally posted on bratzforchris in spring 2024*

ever since you were a little girl, you had been enamored by the idea of being famous. something about the life called to you, whether that be walking down the street and people knowing you, or simply realizing that you were having an impact on someone, somewhere’s life. fortunately, you had grown up in the age of the internet, allowing you to truly harness what you had wanted to do for so long. you loved having creative freedom, and you loved making a persona that was truly you. 

you had been making youtube videos, doing a variety of Instagram influencing, and posting carefully crafted aesthetic photos to tumblr ever since middle school. whereas a lot of the girls had moved out of their tumblr influencer phase, you never really had. you still loved the dark, “grunge” aesthetic of it, and had turned your account into a more mature, x-rated theme of what it once had been. you loved doing social media as your full time job for a variety of reasons, from the freedom it gave you to the opportunities. 

perhaps your biggest “opportunity” was your fellow influencer and youtuber, matt. your relationship with matt was…complicated, to say the least. as much as you were a wholesome, loving duo on camera, you were filled with an almost primal need for each other off of it too. you and matt had never discussed a true, established relationship, mostly because you were both so young and so busy, and the rough, hard fucking in itself was enough to satisfy the needs in both of your lives. 

your careers had consumed both of you as of late, dragging matt all over the country for the versus tour, and leaving you back in LA with a variety of brand deals to film and photo shoots to arrange. there was one in particular that you were heavily looking forward to, mostly because you knew that it would drag matt back to you, unable to help himself. in a fateful turn of events, you had been emailed about a calvin klein intimates shoot that would just so happen to drop on the day matt was back in LA for a show. in an effort to bring back the tumblr renaissance and the hold calvin klein had had during those days, you had insisted that the photos be posted to tumblr before any other social media platform. 

matt: i’m back in la tn 

you: oh i know ;)

matt: ??? huh

you: no reason. just focus on winning tonight :)

you smiled to yourself as you closed your text messages out and migrated over to your photo gallery. your manager had sent you the photos of the shoot to be posted this evening, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t planning on fucking with matt’s head using them. you had missed your fuck buddy, after all. the late night phone sex wasn’t the same as him in your bed, mumbling in your ear about how well you were taking it. 

the photos from the shoot were of you in a gray calvin klein bralette with a matching thong. the photos had been toned with a sepia overlay, highlighting the curves of your breasts and hips. your hair fell back against your shoulders gracefully as your doe eyes stared up at the camera. the shots were nothing short of sexy, making you imagine how matt would react when he got the post notification. maybe he would be sitting backstage, getting ready to go on and trying to hide his growing boner both from his brothers and the fans, which only made you smile more. 

you and matt continued to text back and forth for a while, until you suddenly stopped responding. this was part of your game with each other; to make the yearning so painful that it just made the sex more passionate. once you saw that it had hit the fifteen minute mark until matt was supposed to appear on stage, you hit ‘post’ on the tumblr draft of your photos that you had planned out earlier in the day. the caption, come over 💋, was directly aimed at matt, but no one else needed to know that. sure enough, less than one minute later, you received a text from the brunette that had your heart racing and your thighs clenching. 

matt: come on, baby. what the fuck?

you smiled as you typed out your own message, imagining matt biting his lip and trying to conceal the growing tent in his pants as he studied the photos.

you: what? 

matt: you know what

you: no i don’t 

matt: that fucking post 

you: it’s part of my job, matt. quit being ridiculous. have you not heard about tumblr girls making a comeback?

matt: watch it. i’m coming over and fucking that pretty pussy good tonight.

you grinned as you reread the message, knowing matt’s threats were never empty. you left the text on seen, knowing that it would only make matt more rough with you tonight. you kept a watchful eye on the clock as the minutes ticked by, formulating what you were going to do once he was here. as the time ticked towards the ending of the show, you slipped into the same set you had been wearing in the photos, pulling a large, red and black flannel around your shoulders to combat the chill of the evening. you were just pulling out a cup to make yourself a glass of whiskey when your phone buzzed with the message you’d been waiting to receive all evening. 

matt: coming over

you knew what your and matt’s usual routine was, so you grabbed another cup from the cabinet and the bottle of whiskey, migrating over to the gray couch in your living room. you didn’t bother waiting for the brunette to start drinking. matt had a key to your apartment and would definitely make himself known when he arrived. you slowly sipped at the amber liquid, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks and in between your thighs as you thought about matt and how much you had missed the feeling of his skin on yours. 

sure enough, the door swung open with a loud bang a few minutes later. in came matt, hair disheveled and still in his blue matthew jersey. his growing erection was obvious as he flopped onto the couch, lips immediately crashing into your own. matt’s hands were all over you as you devoured each other; in your hair, running across your hips, grabbing your ass. 

“fuck, baby. i missed you.” he panted, leaning back against the couch as you passed him a drink. 

“i missed you, matt,” you smiled softly, tucking one of his curls behind his ear. “how has tour been?”

matt took a large swig of whiskey, before placing the cup on the coffee table. “good. but not as good as you looked in those goddamn pictures.” he practically moaned. 

“i noticed you have my post notifications on,” you teased, despite blushing at his words. “catching feelings, matthew?”

matt rubbed your bare thigh, scooting closer to you so that he could suckle on the sweet spot behind your ear. “do you know how hard it was?” he asked, leaving a hickey. “to have to go out on stage with my brothers and act normal when all i could think about were your tits and how i want to pound that little cunt to pieces? huh?” 

you whined as matt continued to trail hickeys down your neck, mumbling things like “missed you so bad” and “gonna fuck you so hard” after each one. you two fell back against the soft cushions of the couch, matt holding you down by the hips as his lips caressed your neck, the curve of your collarbone, and the dip of your breasts. you went to reach for matt’s ringed fingers, only for him to smack your hand away. 

“no,” matt said harshly, moving one hand from your hip to your throat. “tell me how fuckin’ bad you want it first,” he growled, squeezing your throat just enough to make the air catch in your lungs. “tell me you wanna get off on my fingers like a goddamn bitch in heat.”

you gasped for air as matt continued to squeeze, your arousal thumping through your veins. “p…please,” you whispered, eyes wide with lust as he continued to choke you just enough to get you going, but not enough to actually hurt you. “need your fingers.” you whined, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“good girl.” matt hummed, alcohol hot on his breath as he moved his hands from your throat to practically rip your gray panties off. 

with your friends with benefits arrangement, there was no time for gentle caressing or sweet nothings. matt began to finger you roughly, the cool metal of his rings brushing against your slick folds as he rubbed his thumb across your clit at a dizzying pace. he wasn’t stopping there, either. matt immediately thrust his middle and ring finger inside of you, pulling you closer to him. it had only been a few minutes, and the ache to orgasm was already building in your lower stomach. 

“matt,” you wailed, nails gripping his back. “oh my god, matt,” tears began to roll down your face as the brunette continued to pleasure you. the combination of his fingers inside of you, the friction on your clit, and the added sensation of his rings were clouding everything in a lustful haze. “need to cum.” you sobbed. 

“you’re fuckin’ crazy if you think you’re comin’ on my fingers instead of tongue.” he chuckled roughly. 

with that, matt threw his head down and forced your thighs apart, burying his face in your pussy. he began to devour you like you were the last meal on earth and he was a starving man. his tongue ran across your slit and clit, before licking your hole. you had no choice but to let out little squeals and whimpers as pleasurable sensations attacked you from all angles. matt ran the flat of his tongue across your clit and you lost it, sobbing as your hands found his hair. 

“matt, please,” you begged. “‘m gonna cum.”

your fuck buddy just nodded, still enjoying the taste of you on his tongue. you immediately took it as a sign to let go, releasing the tension that had been building in your stomach. you came all over matt’s tongue, panting and breathing heavily as your body shook from the pure force of your orgasm. matt pulled his head from between your thighs, licking his lips and fingers with a smirk, blue eyes hungrily grazing over your body that was still wrapped in the bra and flannel with your bare ass on display. 

“you taste so goddamn good, you know that?” he asked, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you panted. 

you smiled as matt pressed a kiss to your pubic bone, but it was clear that the brunette wasn’t done yet. matt slowly pulled the red and black material from your shoulders, smiling with more than just happiness. he had an intention and you could see it in the way he was toying with the fabric, eyes lighting up with lust. matt didn’t speak again until he had removed your calvin klein bra, leaving you completely exposed on the couch as he stared down at you. 

“hands.” he said. 

it was one word, but the command held an authoritative aire that had you thrusting your wrists to meet matt’s own. matt knew you better than practically anyone, which meant he knew all of your dirty little fantasies. knowing you had a thing for bondage, the brunette quickly and expertly bound your wrists together in the flannel, giving it a tight tug to make sure it was secure. your breath hitched at the pure filth of everything, but all you knew was that this alone was making your legs clench with need for another climax. 

matt was straddling you on the couch, fully clothed, which just added to the dominance he had over you. you were completely naked and covered in blooming hickeys he had left earlier in the evening with your wrists bound together by a flannel. you truly looked like matt’s little cumslut, but you couldn’t find the decency in you to care anymore. you just knew that you were at his mercy and that you needed him. now.

the brunette could sense your urgency and decided to have a little ‘fun’ with you. matt took his time removing his shirt, allowing you to bask in the glory of him shirtless, all tanned skin and tattoos, but completely unable to do anything about it other than whimper and let out breathy moans. he moved onto his jeans next, painstakingly undoing his belt and throwing his pants to the side. the boy left his boxers on for the time being, teasing you as he stroked his cock through the plaid fabric. 

“wish that was you, huh? strokin’ my dick and makin’ me feel good?” matt chuckled, moaning when he hit a particularly sensitive spot. 

you whimpered and writhed against your bond. “need you in me, matt. please.” you whined. 

finally, matt slid his boxers off and tossed them to the side, allowing his erection to finally spring free. his dick was practically touching his stomach, making your mouth run dry with a mixture of excitement and nerves. after so long apart and without truly fucking, you had forgotten just how big he was. matt climbed on top of you once more, rocking his hips back and forth on your own without actually riding you. 

“beg for it. tell me how much you love my cock, baby girl.” matt groaned at the friction of your skin against his own, becoming harder by the second. 

“i need you inside me. need your dick, matt.” you whimpered, the teasing growing straight to your nipples and cunt, making you almost ache with arousal. 

“that’s right. good fuckin’ girl.”

without another word, matt slammed into you, making you take him to the hilt. you let out an involuntary scream at the feeling of suddenly being so full, your back arching against the couch cushions. the feeling of him inside you, bare and hard, was enough to push you to the brink of orgasm. your second always came faster than your first, and right now was no exception. matt was riding you at an ungodly pace, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust as he straddled you. 

“oh my god, baby,” matt moaned loudly. “i missed your wet little pussy. so tight, just for me.”

the filthiness of his speaking, combined with your bonds and the feeling of him fucking you was pushing you over the edge. you wanted to tangle your hands in matt’s hair or run your nails down his back, but instead you were unable to do anything that wasn’t taking his fucking like a slut. matt pressed down on the bulge in your stomach from being balls deep, a smirk on his face. 

“you feel that, baby? feel you takin’ me like the cockslut you are?” he chuckled. 

you whined as tears rolled down your face, bucking his hips up to meet his own. “matt, i…i–need to, please.” you wailed, unable to form coherent sentences in your intoxicated and lustful state. 

“you gonna cum? gonna make me feel appreciated?” matt’s blue eyes scanned your face, enjoying the view that was you under him, tied up and sobbing. 

“mhm!” you sobbed. 

“then prove it.” he sneered, pressing on your stomach roughly again. 

you didn’t need to be told twice. you immediately let your climax take over, your cunt clenching against matt’s cock. this caused the brunette to let out a string of curses as you came down from your high, your entire body shaking. he knew he was playing a risky game here, even though you were on the pill, but matt just loved fucking you bare more than anything in the world. the brunette quickly pulled out, and before you knew it, your stomach was covered in thick and warm, white ropes of matt’s cum. 

he laid down beside you on the couch, panting heavily as you both came down from your shared highs. once your breathing had returned to semi-normal, matt kissed you roughly and undid your bonds, before rolling off the couch. without another word, he pulled his clothes on, straightening his hair. your fuck buddy kissed your forehead as he busied himself around your apartment, cleaning up the whiskey and cups and retrieving a warm washcloth to wipe down your body with. 

once everything had been done, matt tucked you in with a blanket, kissing your forehead. “i gotta go. we’re driving up to san francisco tonight and i told nick and chris i would be back by two. i’ll see ya once the tour is over, yeah?”

you smiled sleepily as matt slipped out your front door and into the night. whereas you would’ve loved for the brunette to stay the night, you knew that you both had jobs to do and that right now, you were just ffriends with benefits and that was that. but as you drifted off to sleep, a warm feeling spread through your tummy that you and matt wouldn’t stay “just friends” for long.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

© bratzforchris

lilah yaps ⋆. 𐙚 ˚: wow i did not think there would be a day that y'all saw a lilah comeback but it's a crazy world we're living in! this was posted on my old blog over a year ago and it was the first fic i had truly blow up so i felt it was only right for this to be the first repost :(<3 i don't have a taglist right now, but i can make one if y'all want?? love you all and thank you for supporting the lilah comeback!!

[mattgrayyes]

The European Space Agency invited me to their mission control centre in Germany to find out what it takes to be a Satellite Operations Engineer working on their new Earth observation satellite, BIOMASS.

[lvrsturniolo]

˗ˏˋboyfriend!matt lovesss playing with his girl´ˎ˗

warnings; smut. dj w the vj. needy!reader.

p!link that gave me this idea at the end😋

it’s barely morning.

The kind of quiet, gray light that seeps in through the curtains and makes everything feel slower, softer. The world is still asleep, and so is Matt—mostly.

You’re curled up under the covers with him behind you, his arm around your waist, warm breath steady against the back of your neck. Everything is still. Peaceful. Except you.

You shift just a little, thighs rubbing together, trying not to wake him—but your body’s aching. You had a wet dream and it’s been hell since you woke up.

You try to ignore it. Breathe through it. But Matt stirs behind you.

His voice is low, rough with sleep. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You don’t answer right away. Embarrassed. Shy.

Matt presses a kiss to your shoulder, the tip of his nose nudging your skin. “Talk to me,” he murmurs, even softer this time. “Why’s my sweet girl so squirmy this morning?”

Your voice is barely a whisper. “I need you…”

His hand tightens around your waist just slightly, thumb stroking lazy circles against your hip. “Yeah?” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin. “Need me how, baby?”

You shift again, arching back into him just slightly, your thighs rubbing. He feels it instantly—how warm you are, how wet. His hand slides down, slow and deliberate, cupping your pussy over your panties. You whimper, breath catching in your throat.

“Oh, baby” Matt groans softly, kissing behind your ear. “You’re soaked.”

You nod, still not trusting your voice, and Matt smiles gently against your skin. “So needy, even half-asleep.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s no mocking in it—just love.

“C’mere,” he whispers, guiding you carefully onto your side and then pulling you up into his lap, your back to his chest. His legs stretch out behind yours under the covers as he shifts his hand back down, tucking it between your thighs again.

“You’re okay like this?” he checks gently, mouth close to your ear. “Can I touch you, sweetheart?”

You nod quickly, already trembling with anticipation. “Please…”

Matt kisses the side of your head and slips his hand into your panties, two fingers gliding through your soaked folds. You gasp, clinging to his wrist as he finds your clit right away, stroking it in slow, soft circles—just the way you like.

“Right there?” he asks quietly.

You nod, breath hitching. “Yes… don’t stop, Matt.”

His free hand curls around your stomach, holding you still against him, your back flush with his chest. His lips never leave your skin—whispering praise, pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder as his fingers keep moving with that soft, perfect rhythm.

“You’re so good for me,” he breathes. “Letting me touch you like this first thing in the morning. So sweet. So fuckin’ wet, baby.”

You whimper, your thighs trembling as the heat builds—slow and steady, that warm wave rising until your whole body is tight, every nerve drawn toward the center of you.

Matt feels it.

His hold tightens just slightly, his hand still steady. “You’re close, huh? I can feel it—feel y’clit twitchin’ in my fingers. You gonna cum for me, sweet girl?”

You nod, helpless. “M’gonna—Matt, I’m gonna—”

“Let go, baby,” he whispers. “I got you.”

And you do—your whole body jerking softly in his lap as the orgasm crashes through you like warm lightning. You gasp his name, grabbing at his arm, your back arching into his chest as you fall apart in his hands.

Matt holds you through it, his fingers slowing but never leaving, rubbing you through every last tremble. He kisses your temple, then your cheek, his voice low and soothing in your ear.

“There you go. That’s it. That’s my good girl.”

You melt into him, boneless and shaking, your breathing slow and uneven.

“Still with me?” he murmurs, smiling against your skin.

You nod, barely able to form words.

He slips his hand out of your panties gently and pulls the covers back over both of you, wrapping his arms tight around your waist again. “You did so good, baby. So perfect.”

You nuzzle back into his chest, legs still twitching slightly. “T-thank you…”

Matt kisses your hair and chuckles softly. “Always, love helpin my girl.”

——————————

link this was inspired by HERE

^warning!! this is an nsfw p-link!! you also need to be logged into twitter to see it!!^

tags; @emely9274 @courta13 @sturniolo-szn2 @chrislover696969 @sophand4n4 @lezleeferguson-120 @slvt4chriss @ivysturnss @auttysturnz @riasturns @iloveduckssm @tezzzzzzzz

[sluttapes]

⌞ 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 ⌝

matthew bernard sturniolo

𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬ㆍ 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴

you wake before the sun’s fully crested the windows, the soft gray light barely touching the walls of your bedroom. matt’s arms are around you, heavy and warm, chest pressed against your back, his breathing deep and even. but your mind isn’t calm—not completely. there’s this low ache between your thighs, soft and insistent, the kind that creeps in slowly while you sleep and leaves you squirming a little before you’re even fully awake. you shift under the sheets, pressing your thighs together just slightly, and matt’s grip tightens in response, like even asleep, his body knows how to hold you closer.

you don’t want to wake him. not really. and definitely not for this. it feels silly—needy. you try to breathe through it, try to calm yourself, but when your hips roll just a little into the mattress and a quiet gasp escapes your lips, it’s already too late.

matt stirs.

“mm.” his voice is raspy, low, muffled against your hair. “you okay?”

you freeze. “yeah. sorry. didn’t mean to wake you.”

his hand slides down, palm warm against your stomach, thumb brushing lazy circles there. “you’re squirming,” he mumbles, still half-asleep. “what’s wrong?”

you hesitate, biting your lip.

he shifts behind you, just enough to press a slow kiss to the back of your neck. “baby,” he says, softer now, like a secret, “you wet?”

your face burns, but you nod just the tiniest bit. he hums low, pleased, and nudges your shoulder so you roll onto your back.

“lemme help,” he whispers, eyes still barely open, voice all gravel and sleep.

“matt—”

“mmh,” he breathes, already sliding down under the blankets. “jus' let me. i got you.”

you gasp when he kisses your thigh, so slow, so lazy it feels like a dream. his hands spread your legs gently, and then his mouth is on you—warm and soft, tongue dragging through your folds in slow, heavy strokes that make your whole body tense. he’s not in a rush. not even close. he’s still half-asleep, taking his time, like this is just a natural part of waking up for him. his mouth moves with a lazy rhythm, tongue circling your clit until your hips start to lift from the bed.

“matt,” you whisper, already breathless.

he groans against you, low and needy. “taste so good in the morning,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your skin. “so sweet. so wet.”

you moan, hand finding his hair beneath the blankets, fingers tangling in the mess of it as he keeps going, never speeding up, never rushing. just slow, wet pleasure that builds and builds, like a sunrise inside you.

“wanna feel you cum on my tongue,” he whispers, lips brushing your clit between strokes. “c'mon, baby.”

you bite your lip, back arching, and then you’re coming—soft and sudden and so damn full, trembling under the weight of it as he licks you through every second. when you finally go still, boneless and warm under the sheets, matt crawls back up, nuzzling into your neck, his lips sticky with you.

“mm. good morning,” he murmurs with a sleepy grin.

you laugh, breathless. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you’re welcome,” he whispers, wrapping himself around you again like he’s already falling back asleep.

@sweetshuga gave me the idea for this when we was talking about something like that i think LMFAO

(also if anyone’s posted something like this, please lmk so i can credit because idk if im delusional or not but i swear i read something similar before)

— @tits4matt @loser41ifee @sweetshuga @nickysturnss

[et6rnalsun]

accidentally walking in on bff!matt while he’s changing..

oh, you were so pissed off. so incredibly pissed off.

you couldn't believe how chris had the fucking audacity to throw away your lashes, despite you repeatedly telling him to be careful, and to keep them on their table until you came back to get them. your favorite pair, too.

it wasn't uncommon for you to stay at their house to sleep, and that you left pieces of your things around like an incomplete puzzle, which will probably remain so. but never, never in the fuckin history of your friendship, one of the three had lost or just thrown away something of yours. and when it happened to your beloved eyelashes, you knew for sure that you would have loved to commit a murder.

the wheels in your head were spinning non-stop in the evil creation of a plan against chris, all while you were walking briskly towards matt's room.

“i think it’s time for you to beat chris’s ass every fuckin’ day” you said with a huff escaping your glossy lips, opening his door — swinging it fully — without even glancing inside before doing so. only when you looked up you realized the fact that the boy was half naked in front of you. damn.

you stopped working for a few seconds too long, looking stupid in matt's eyes who was simply trying to change. your mouth wide open, a light shade of red dusting your cheeks as if a wave of freezing cold had passed through your soft skin like a caress, but in reality it was just the embarrassment of having caught your best friend in such a state.

his dark hair looked even thicker when wet, dripping from a shower you could tell he'd just taken. he was holding a t-shirt in his hands that he hadn't had time to put on, in fact, his chest was completely exposed to your eyes that betrayed your desire to just disappear from earth — traveling all over his body as if you were waiting for nothing else. his tattooed arm seemed even more beautiful in that context, and you found yourself sighing as you searched for something to say.

the gray sweatpants that were pulled down low enough to show the elastic of his calvin klein underwear, a v-line that you would love to touch with your tongue— "i'm sorry" you cleared your throat, fighting the urge to slap yourself.

his reaction surprised you, as he simply chuckled and finally put that shirt on. "what were you saying ‘bout chris?" matt quickly changed the subject, tilting his head as he looked at you intently. you shrugged in response, the urge to kill his brother suddenly gone. christ, you were too embarrassed to even breathe at that moment.

matt seemed to notice, and leaned in slightly as a smirk tugged at the corners of his pink lips. "don't tell me you're suddenly shy" he taunted, tortured you just for the fun of it. "you've only seen me shirtless, you haven't ended up in my sheets just yet" he added, making your eyes widen as your hand automatically moved to slap his chest. covered.

"shut up. you better shut up or chris won't be the only one to die today"

"i just have to undress and you'll change your mind—” another slap. in the face.

[renthony]

In Defense of Shitty Queer Art

Queer art has a long history of being censored and sidelined. In 1895, Oscar Wilde’s novel The Picture of Dorian Gray was used as evidence in the author’s sodomy trials. From the 1930s to the 1960s, the American Hays Code prohibited depictions of queerness in film, defining it as “sex perversion.” In 2020, the book Steven Universe: End of an Era by Chris McDonnell confirmed that Rebecca Sugar’s insistence on including a sapphic wedding in the show is what triggered its cancellation by Cartoon Network. According to the American Library Association, of the top ten most challenged books in 2023, seven were targeted for their queer content. Across time, place, and medium, queer art has been ruthlessly targeted by censors and protesters, and at times it seems there might be no end in sight.

So why, then, are queer spaces so viciously critical of queer art?

Name any piece of moderately-well-known queer media, and you can find immense, vitriolic discourse surrounding it. Audiences debate whether queer media is good representation, bad representation, or whether it’s otherwise too problematic to engage with. Artists are picked apart under a microscope to make sure their morals are pure enough and their identities queer enough. Every minor fault—real or perceived—is compiled in discourse dossiers and spread around online. Lines are drawn, and callout posts are made against those who get too close to “problematic art.”

Modern examples abound, such as the TV show Steven Universe, the video game Dream Daddy, or the webcomic Boyfriends, but it’s far from a new phenomenon. In his book Hi Honey, I’m Homo!, queer pop culture analyst Matt Baume writes about an example from the 1970s, where the ABC sitcom titled Soap was protested by homophobes and queer audiences alike—before a single episode of the show ever aired. Audiences didn’t wait to actually watch the show before passing judgment and writing protest letters.

After so many years starved for positive representation, it’s understandable for queer audiences to crave depictions where we’re treated well. It’s exhausting to only ever see the same tired gay tropes and subtext, and queer audiences deserve more. Yet the way to more, better, varied representation is not to insist on perfection. The pursuit of perfection is poison in art, and it’s no different when that art happens to be queer.

When the pool of queer art is so limited, it feels horrible when a piece of queer art doesn’t live up to expectations. Even if the representation is technically good, it’s disappointing to get excited for a queer story only for that story to underwhelm and frustrate you.

But the world needs that disappointing art. It needs mediocre art. It even needs the bad art. The world needs to reach a point where queer artists can fearlessly make a mess, because if queer artists can only strive for perfection, the less art they can make. They may eventually produce a masterpiece, but a single masterpiece is still a drop in the bucket compared to the oceans of censorship. The only way to drown out bigotry and offensive stereotypes created by bigots is to allow queer artists the ability to experiment, learn through making mistakes, and represent their queer truth even if it clashes with someone else’s.

If queer artists aren’t allowed to make garbage, we can never make those masterpieces everyone craves. If queer artists are terrified at all times that their art will be targeted both by bigots and their own queer communities, queer art cannot thrive.

Let queer artists make shitty art. Let allies to queer people try their hand at representation, even if they miss the mark. Let queer art be messy, and let the artists screw up without fear of overblown retribution.

It’s the only way we’ll ever get more queer art.

_

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