malsmind

[malsmind]

Hi! I've your work and I was wondering if you could write something with this idea. So Matt and his partner are in a new relationship and just did it for the first time, but she didn't finish. The next day Matt overheard her talking to her friends about it. After that I'm not sure... anyway thank you so much!

hiya! tysm i’m so so sorry i took ages to write this :(( i hope you like it

you didn’t think he’d hear.

you weren’t even really talking shit. just venting. kind of laughing it off to your friends like it was no big deal. because it wasn’t. not really. the night had been… good. warm. careful. a little awkward in the best way. first time things always were. matt had been sweet—so fucking sweet—and maybe that’s what made you nervous. like your whole body forgot how to breathe let alone how to relax enough to finish. you didn’t blame him. not even close.

but you still said it. “i don’t know, i just didn’t finish. it was still nice though, he was really gentle.”

and maybe something like, “i think i was too in my head. he’s just… a lot. in a good way. i don’t really know what i’m doing.”

and you really, really didn’t think he’d hear. but that night, when he picked you up from your place, hand holding yours a little tighter than usual—warm, a little shaky—you knew.

“you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “i mean. about last night.”

your breath caught. he was still looking ahead, hands on the wheel, but his voice was soft. not hurt. just uncertain. like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to ask.

your mouth opened. closed. then, quietly, “you heard that.”

“yeah.” he licked his bottom lip. “not on purpose. just, you know. came back to grab my charger.”

you nodded. cheeks hot.

“you weren’t wrong,” he added. “i just… i guess i didn’t notice. i was nervous too.”

your heart twisted.

“matt—”

“hey.” he glanced over, pulled your hand into his lap, fingers lacing with yours. “you don’t have to apologize. but can i make it up to you?”

you blinked. “what?”

“i just want to… try again. without all the nerves this time.”

he smiled at you, something shy in it. “let me take care of you, baby.”

and god, he did.

he was gentle at first. he always was. fingers brushing down your arms as he undressed you slowly, lips pressing to every new inch of skin he revealed like it was holy. he laid you back on his bed like you were something delicate. like if he moved too fast, you’d disappear.

his hands slid up your thighs. under your shirt. thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, mouth warm on your collarbone. he kissed your throat, your jaw, the corner of your lips. every inch of you except where you ached for him most.

you whimpered, hips twitching. “matt…”

“shh.” he kissed just below your ear. “i’ve got you.”

his fingers danced along the waistband of your underwear. never going lower. just teasing. stroking your skin like he was memorizing it.

“so pretty,” he murmured. “so good for me.”

you were squirming by the time he kissed his way down. stomach. hipbones. inner thighs. slow, open-mouthed kisses that left heat blooming through you like wildfire. but never there.

his eyes flicked up to yours, dark and wanting and focused. “tell me what you want.”

you choked out, “you.”

“you have me,” he said. and finally, finally, his mouth settled where you needed it.

his tongue was slow. careful. like he wanted to savor every second. like he wasn’t in a rush to pull you apart, just… wanted to feel you come alive for him. he didn’t stop when your thighs tensed around his head. didn’t stop when your hands fisted the sheets, breath breaking apart. if anything, he moaned into you, like he liked this—liked tasting your pleasure, knowing he put it there. and when you finally came, he held you through it. let you ride it out on his tongue until your legs shook.

you were still catching your breath when he moved back up, pressing slow kisses to your ribs, your chest, your throat. you blinked up at him, dazed.

“better?” he whispered.

you nodded, voice too broken to speak.

he grinned, but then his voice dipped again, serious. soft. “gonna give you another one. the one from last night.”

he didn’t make you wait long. you felt his tip against you, just barely there, and then he was easing in—inch by inch, slow, thick stretch that had your mouth falling open.

he kissed your temple. “you take me so well.”

you clenched around him and he groaned. low and deep in his chest, pressing his hips against yours. not moving yet. just staying still, letting you feel him. letting the warmth settle in. and then he started to fuck you. not fast. not rough. just… deep. steady. his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. his mouth spilling praise, murmured right against your cheek.

“so good for me.”

“look at you, fuck, you feel incredible.”

“been thinking about this all day.”

you were already close again. overstimulated and raw and open, every nerve ending tuned to him. his voice. his rhythm. the way his hand slipped between you to rub your clit just right.

“come on, sweetheart,” he breathed. “give it to me. wanna feel you fall apart.”

and you did. louder this time. messier. nails in his shoulders, whole body trembling as he fucked you through it. your second orgasm. the one he said he owed you. he kissed you after. again and again. soft and smiling and proud.

you buried your face in his neck. whispered, “thank you.”

his arms wrapped tighter around you. “anytime, baby,” he said. “wanna make sure i always make you feel good.”

[malsmind]

can you write about how cuddling with Matt would be like if he was your bf?

he’s not usually like this.

in public, matt’s fine with holding your hand, fine with a casual arm around your shoulder, fine with brushing his fingers down your spine when no one’s looking. but that’s about as far as it goes. he’s careful, composed, always holding something back. it’s only when you’re alone that the mask slips—when it’s just the two of you in bed and no one’s watching—that you get this version of him.

this clingy, whiny, impossibly touch-starved version.

he’s got his face buried in your neck, breath warm, body molded to yours like he was poured there. your shirt’s somewhere on the floor, his too, and not because it led to anything. not tonight. he just hates the feeling of fabric between you. says it feels like a wall.

 “matt,” you murmur, shifting your hips a little. your legs are tangled, and one of them is cramping. “i need to move.”

a low, sulky sound vibrates against your collarbone. his arms, already wrapped around your waist like a vice, only squeeze tighter.

“no.”

 “no?” you echo, almost laughing.

 he grumbles again, a pathetic little noise, and you feel the way his fingers dig into your skin like he’s scared you’ll disappear.

“just stay. five more minutes.”

“you said that twenty minutes ago.”

“yeah, and i meant it then, too.”

you sigh, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. you’re used to this now. this weird, possessive softness of his that only ever comes out when the lights are low and the door’s closed. you reach back, threading your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. that earns you a barely-audible hum of satisfaction, and his grip loosens just a little.

not enough to escape, of course. god forbid.

 he shifts, pressing even closer, somehow, even though you’re already sharing the same oxygen. chest to chest, stomach to stomach, no space left between any of it. one of his legs hooks over yours, anchoring you in place. like you’re some giant teddy bear he’s terrified to let go of.

you mutter, “i have to pee.”

“hold it.”

“matt.”

his lips brush your neck again, almost absentmindedly, like he’s hoping if he distracts you enough, you’ll forget you even have a bladder.

“nope. not allowed. not tonight.”

“so you’re actually gonna keep me hostage in your arms?”

he lifts his head, finally, just enough to meet your eyes. hair messy, eyes half-lidded and soft in that way that always makes your chest hurt. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

you narrow your eyes. “you are literally holding me hostage.”

his expression shifts into something pitiful. like a kicked puppy. “baby,” he whines, dragging the word out like it’ll break him in half if you leave now. “it’s cold without you.”

“you’re hot as hell. i’m sweating.”

“i’m emotionally cold,” he corrects, dramatically. “you’re my warmth.”

you can’t help it. you laugh. loud and unexpected, snorting against his chest as he grins, victorious. but still. you try to move again. not to leave the bed, just to roll onto your back. bad idea. his arms snake tighter around your waist, and he shifts again—throwing a leg over both of yours this time like he’s physically restraining you.

“matt.”

“shh.”

“i hate you.”

“no you don’t,” he mumbles, already nuzzling into your neck again. “you love me. i’m your favorite blanket.”

he’s right, he kind of is. you resign yourself to being a prisoner of love, your bladder whining and your legs numb, and this boy who smells like cedarwood and sleep breathing all over you like it’s his goddamn job.

and if you stop trying to get away… maybe you like it more than you should. maybe that’s why you never fight that hard.

[malsmind]

new vampire!matt ⤑ here

@tits4matt @mattspillowprincess @h3arts4nat @starryfantasydreams @sturns-mermaid @sturniolochrismatt @sturrrrnslvt @bluessturniolo @spaghettislut1 @kittybitch @abbystromboli @urlocallera @loser41ifee @courta13 @phonysuperstarr @sturnsrecord @bbgirlmatt @secretlifeofspace @mattssslutbby @backwardshatnick @oopsiedaisydeer @tezzzzzzzz @sturniolosluttt @aflairforthedramattic @matts-247 @pink1man @sturniolo-szn2 @herewegoagain-b @joanakaulitz @zenithsturniolo @viixe-n @princesspeach0-0 @sweetshuga @stxrsniolo

[malsmind]

vampire!matt 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 antisocial!reader’s 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯

✰ - content warnings: ✦ sexual tension ✦ mentions of blood ✦ emotional conflict ✦

wc - 2.6k

he woke up to the smell of coffee and a throbbing hard-on.

at first, it didn’t register where he was. couch cushions beneath him, blanket tossed halfway to the floor, someone’s throw pillow jammed under his neck awkwardly. the sun was bleeding in from a slit in the curtains, too bright. his head pounded faintly from the leftover buzz, and his mouth tasted like dried blood and bad decisions.

then it hit him.

your house.

his eyes snapped open fully. the living room. your living room. his stomach dropped. fuck.

last night crashed over him like a fucking wave—your hands on his face, the sting of antiseptic and your voice in his ear, sharp and worried. the way you snapped at him while cleaning him up like you weren’t trying to stop your hands from shaking. the blood on your lip. your scent, all over him.

and the shower.

his dick twitched at the memory before his brain could tell it to shut the fuck up. the way he leaned back against your tile, biting back your name, trying to get you out of his system. trying not to walk into your room soaking wet and ruin everything.

it didn’t work, obviously. and now he was lying here like a fucking idiot, painfully hard and humiliated. what the hell was wrong with him? he scrubbed a hand over his face. sat up. tried to breathe through the heat pooling between his legs, the shame twisting in his gut. he was already planning to sneak out the front door when he heard it—

your footsteps in the hallway.

and then you were there. walking past him into the kitchen like it was any other morning. hair a little messy. one of those oversized hoodies hanging off your shoulder, and the tiny black shorts underneath barely showing. you didn’t even look at him. you just started making coffee. casual. like he wasn’t sitting on your couch trying to will his dick to chill the fuck out.

he swallowed hard. shifted under the blanket still loosely draped over him. forced himself to stand up and follow you into the kitchen like a normal person. like he hadn’t practically begged to touch you last night and got shut down because he was drunk and desperate and close to bleeding all over your sheets.

but you—you weren’t unaffected. he saw it the second you realized he was behind you.

you stiffened, slightly. your grip on the edge of the counter tightened just enough for him to notice. and fuck. that changed everything.

he felt the heat rise up again—not from shame this time, but something else. something darker. heavier.

you were nervous.

not annoyed. not weirded out. not brushing it off like usual. you were nervous.

his stare locked on you. hard. sharp. watching the way your shoulders tensed, the way your breathing changed. you wouldn’t turn around. you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. but it was already too late.

“you gonna talk to me?” he murmured, voice rough from sleep.

you reached for a mug without looking back. “you’re awake.”

he stepped closer. slow.

“you left me on the couch like a one-night stand, angel. cold.”

“you are cold,” you muttered, pouring your coffee with more force than necessary.

his mouth twitched. “yeah? want to warm me up?”

you turned then. fast. too fast. like it was a reflex. like your body betrayed you before your brain could stop it. and now you were facing him, mug gripped tight in both hands, jaw clenched like you were ready to throw it at him.

but your eyes—he saw it.

you wanted him. still. just like last night. and the way your breath hitched when he stepped even closer? sealed it.

“you look tense,” he said, barely above a whisper. “you nervous, sweetheart?”

“no.”

“liar.”

his hand reached out, brushing your hip like it was nothing. like it was instinct. and maybe it was, now. because when you didn’t flinch—didn’t shove him away, didn’t tell him to fuck off—his other hand found the edge of the counter behind you, caging you in.

you licked your lips. his eyes dropped to your mouth immediately.

“thought you said no last night,” you breathed.

“i’m sober now.”

you blinked up at him. “so?”

“so this time,” he murmured, “you can’t stop me because i know what i’m doing now.”

you opened your mouth, some kind of retort hanging there—but his hands were already on your waist, sliding under the hem of that hoodie, fingertips grazing bare skin. your breath caught.

“unless you don’t want me to,” he added, voice just a breath against your neck.

you didn’t answer. your fingers tightened around the counter’s edge. and that—that—was enough for him.

his lips brushed your jaw, your neck, slow, like a warning. like a promise. his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts, teasing just the edge of your underwear as your entire body tensed, toes curling inside your socks. you couldn’t breathe. couldn’t think.

his breath was warm against your ear now, hands still inching lower. “you gonna stop me, angel?”

you hated the sound you made in response. soft. pleading.

his lips barely ghosted over your skin. “didn’t think so.”

you melted. you let him.

your hips arched forward against him instinctively, and his grip tightened in response, pulling you closer. you could feel him now—hard beneath the soft fabric of his sweats. pressing right against your stomach. your mouth parted. your head tilted back. you were seconds from falling into him completely, voice gone, knees weak—

ding-dong.

the doorbell rang like a gunshot. you jumped. matt froze. your eyes met. wide. startled. then you both registered it at the same time.

chris. and your best friend.

you groaned, slumping back against the counter like the universe hated you. matt cursed under his breath and dragged his hands away from your body, jaw clenched like he wanted to throw the entire front door across the lawn.

“fuck,” he muttered, voice raw.

“yup,” you mumbled, already pushing past him, trying to ignore the fact your knees were still shaking.

he stayed in the kitchen while you opened the door. but you could still feel him watching you. chest rising too fast. lips parted. hands still twitching from where they’d just been on your skin. and you didn’t know what was worse—that it got interrupted, or that you’d let it happen again. just as fast. maybe even faster.

if he tried. if he looked at you like that again. and you already knew—he would.

you open the door with a sigh that practically rattles your bones. and there they are—chris, already halfway through some dumbass story, and your best friend, holding a bag of snacks like this was a regular saturday hangout. they freeze a little when they see your face, your hoodie half on, your hair a mess, your legs still trembling from whatever the fuck just happened in the kitchen.

“uh… everything okay?” your best friend asks, narrowing her eyes at your expression.

you clear your throat. shift your weight like it might make you seem less rattled. “yeah. just woke up.”

“matt here?” chris asks, already peering over your shoulder like he knows damn well his brother is somewhere in the house causing problems.

you open the door wider. gesture vaguely behind you. “kitchen.”

you don’t wait to see their faces when they step inside. you’re already walking away, pulse pounding in your ears, trying to keep your breathing steady. matt’s not in the kitchen anymore. of course not. he’s leaning against the wall just outside of it, arms crossed, still shirtless, eyes locked on yours when you walk past. he looks cool now. composed. like he hadn’t just had his fingers down the front of your shorts.

but you can see it. the clench in his jaw. the faint flush on his chest. the storm still in his eyes. he’s not done. not by a long shot. you don’t know what the hell this is. or why you’re letting it happen.

but fuck—it’s happening.

you end up in the living room with your best friend, half-listening to her complain about the party last night, your hands wrapped around your coffee mug even though it’s cold now. chris and matt are off to the side, talking in low voices, but you can feel matt looking at you again. stealing glances like he can’t help himself. like he doesn’t want to help himself.

you bite your lip. not hard enough to bleed this time, but enough that it makes your stomach flutter again. he sees it. you know he does. you know him now, too well. so when chris says something about needing to grab something from the car, and your best friend follows him out, leaving you alone with matt again for the first time since that doorbell, it’s fucking inevitable.

you’re barely halfway to the kitchen to rinse out your mug before his hand is on your wrist, spinning you around, backing you up against the fridge. your breath catches.

“what the fuck was that?” you whisper, but it doesn’t come out angry. it comes out breathless. shaken.

he’s too close again. always too close. always in your space like he owns the air around you.

“you tell me,” he murmurs. his hand is still on your wrist, thumb brushing slow circles against your pulse. “’cause i don’t know what you’re doing to me, angel, but i can’t fucking stop thinking about you.”

you press your lips together tightly.

“i was trying to be responsible,” you say after a beat, eyes locked on his.

his smirk twitches. “yeah. didn’t feel that responsible when you were grinding on me a few minutes ago.”

“you had your hands down my pants—”

“and you didn’t stop me.”

you freeze. your mouth opens, ready to argue, but nothing comes out.

he leans in, mouth just near your ear. “you don’t want to stop me.”

you flinch. not because you disagree—but because he’s right. you feel it everywhere. in your bones. your chest. between your fucking thighs.

“matt…” you whisper.

“look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t want it.”

your breathing hitches. your fingers curl into the front of his hoodie. you didn’t even notice he put one on. you want to shove him away. scream at him. but you also want to fall apart in his hands. and maybe he sees that battle in your face, because he suddenly backs up half a step. enough to look you in the eye again. enough to give you space to make the call.

his voice is rough now. quiet. careful.

“tell me to stop, angel. and i will.”

you just stare at him. heart in your throat. your mouth opens. and before you can say a damn thing—the front door swings open again.

you both freeze.

“found it!” chris calls from the hallway, waving some hoodie in his hand. your best friend follows behind, laughing about something you didn’t hear, walking straight toward the kitchen.

matt moves. quick. fluid. like he hadn’t just had you pinned against the fridge. he grabs your mug from the counter and turns the faucet on, rinsing it out with a casual flick of his wrist. your hands are shaking again. you turn, pressing your back to the fridge, trying to steady your breathing as the door swings open.

“you good?” your best friend asks, pausing just inside the kitchen.

you nod too fast. “yeah.”

chris is already joking about something again. and matt? matt’s as cool as ever, mug in hand, towel slung over one shoulder now, the faintest trace of a smirk playing on his mouth. he walks past you. doesn’t touch you this time. but as he leaves the kitchen, you hear it—just for you.

“this conversation’s not over.”

you don’t doubt it for a second. and worse—you don’t want it to be over.

₊⊹

you didn’t hear them slip out back. you were too busy trying not to think about the way matt said this conversation’s not over, like it was a promise. like he already had plans. like he knew you’d let him try again.

but out behind the house—just far enough from the sliding door, chris was gripping matt’s hoodie in one fist, yanking him back with enough force to make his brother stumble.

“you fuckin’ insane?” chris hissed. “what the fuck are you doing?”

matt’s jaw clenched. yanked himself free, taking a step back. “don’t touch me.”

“don’t test me,” chris snapped, voice low, sharp with warning. “i saw you in that kitchen.”

matt rolled his eyes. “oh yeah? get a good view?”

“don’t fuck around,” chris growled. “you were two seconds from biting her.”

matt’s mouth opened. shut. his hands flexed at his sides, jaw ticking hard enough to crack.

“you don’t know that,” he muttered.

“bullshit. you were breathing like a goddamn animal.”

“yeah, well, aint that what i am?” matt snapped, voice louder now. darker.

chris stepped in close. their faces were inches apart now, eyes locked in a silent war.

“this isn’t a joke,” chris ground out. “you wanna fuck around with someone, fine. but not her. not like this. you know how easily you lose it. you know what happens when you—”

“i’m not gonna hurt her.”

chris let out a bitter laugh. “that’s what you said about that kid in eighth grade who called you a freak. remember how that ended?”

“that was different.”

“oh, yeah? how?”

“because,” matt hissed through gritted teeth, “i care about her.”

and there it was. the thing he hadn’t said out loud. the thing that had been clawing up the back of his throat for weeks. months. longer, maybe. chris stared at him. stunned silent for a second.

“you care?” he repeated, voice tight. “jesus christ, matt, are you trying to get her killed?”

“i would never—”

“you think that matters when you snap? you think ‘oh, but i cared about her’ is gonna mean shit when her blood’s on the floor and you’re on your knees wondering what the fuck you just did?”

matt looked away. jaw clenched so tight it hurt. chris kept going. quieter now. but sharper.

“you get one second of weakness, matt. one second where you lose grip, and it’s over. you know that. and you wanna risk that just so you can feel something for five fucking minutes?”

matt didn’t answer. his stomach twisted. because yeah. he did. he wanted those five minutes. even if they destroyed him. he took a breath, slow. heavy.

“you have a fucking girlfriend, chris,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “why can’t i fuck around with her?”

“because you’re not like me,” chris snapped. “you’re not wired like me. and you fuckin’ know it.”

matt’s hands curled into fists. chris stepped back. dragged a hand through his hair, pacing now.

“look,” he muttered. “i’m not saying you don’t like her. hell, she probably likes you too—though god knows why.”

“fuck off.”

“but you wanna keep her around? don’t touch her. not like that. not when you’re half-feral and bleeding out lust and whatever the fuck else you’re bottling up.”

matt looked away. stared at the stars. his chest felt tight. burning.

“you don’t get it.”

chris sighed. “no. i do. that’s the thing.”

they didn’t say anything for a long moment. just the distant thrum of bass from the bluetooth speaker inside, laughter echoing faintly behind it.

and matt?

he couldn’t stop thinking about your face in the kitchen. your eyes. the way your breath hitched when he touched you. the taste he didn’t get to have. the blood on your lip.

fuck.

he didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself back.

and worse—he didn’t want to.

…

dividers by @issysh3ll

[malsmind]

aight who misses vampire!matt? i might have something… :p

[malsmind]

the bean flicking man

get him away from me, he’s a man.

[malsmind]

i’m feeling fantastic, fucking fantasticcc

yup you did it. i’m rewatching arcane.

[malsmind]

LOVE ur theme

TYSM ILYY

[malsmind]

▶︎ ၊၊||၊ BROOKLYN BABY 𝜗𝜚 matt sturniolo

───────────────────────────────────

───────────────────────────────────

!! none just fluff.

word count: 468

written by: @japblogs

ULTRAVIOLENCE WRITING MARATHON

you’re both at some house party you barely wanted to go to. someone's backyard, string lights overhead, cheap music blaring from a bluetooth speaker that cuts out every few minutes. people you don’t know are laughing too loud and drinking whatever’s been left on the folding table for too long.

matt’s sitting next to you on the splintered porch steps. sipping from a water bottle, quiet. steady. watching the chaos like it’s a movie he’s seen too many times. you’re watching him.

"my boyfriend’s pretty cool but he’s not as cool as me." you say it casually, quoting the song that had played inside an hour ago. you say it like a joke, but not really.

matt side-eyes you, a soft smirk tugging at his mouth. "you’re still on that line?"

"it’s true." you shrug. "you’re cool. chill. handsome in that i-don’t-try kind of way. but i’m cooler. i’m complicated. people try to figure me out and fail."

he nods, pretending to be impressed. "yeah. so mysterious. especially when you trip over your own shoes and yell about how your phone's at three percent."

you swat at him, laughing. "that’s relatable. doesn’t cancel out the mystique."

"if you say so."

there’s a moment of quiet. someone inside yells about the aux dying. someone else lights a cigarette too close to someone’s curtains.

you lean against his shoulder. softer now. less performative.

"you don’t get it," you say. "i’ve spent years perfecting the ‘i don’t care but secretly care too much’ personality. it’s a science. a lifestyle."

"and i just... exist?"

"exactly. and people love that about you. you don’t need the act. you’re just... real."

he looks at you then. not teasing. not sarcastic. just honest.

"you think i don’t see through yours?"

your breath catches a little.

"i know why you say that line." he says. "because you want people to believe it. maybe even yourself."

you look away. not mad. just exposed in a way you weren’t ready for.

"you’re cooler than me in a different way." he continues. "you walk into a room and everyone notices. i walk into a room and blend in. but you want someone who notices you when you’re not trying."

you glance back at him. he’s still looking at you. like he’s known you longer than you’ve been pretending to know yourself.

"so do you?" you ask. voice quieter now. "notice me when i’m not trying?"

"always."

you don’t smile right away. just sit with that. let it settle between you like warm air.

finally, you nudge him. "fine. maybe you’re almost as cool as me."

he laughs. "i’ll take it."

you rest your head on his shoulder again. and for the first time tonight, the party noise fades into background hum. because this feels like the part worth remembering.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

© japblogs

[malsmind]

i’m deactivating. get outta here.

[malsmind]

not living alone is a curse cause i wanna beat my meat to @sturnsrecord ‘s fics and a mf just be knocking on my door like “you want dinner?”

[malsmind]

ur theme eats so hard sigh

tysm girl i’m gonna cry omds 😭 idk if i like it rn sidjskkskw

[malsmind]

once again i am on my period but scoot over vampire!chris i want vampire!matt

so what if i told you vampire!matt eating you out on your period is way messier than vampire!chris doing it… (he has no self control. gonna be very interesting.)

[malsmind]

charcuterie sounds like charcoochie or charcootery

i don’t even know how to pronounce those words icl.

[malsmind]

i always come to your blog to rewatch the gif in your header LMAO

crazy, because i do the same with the one you have in yours HAHAH

i love you fudhdhhdjd

[malsmind]

why tf did i read your pinned posts lyrics and IMMEDIATELY think of "sticking out your gyat for the rizzler" 😭😭 tiktok has fucked me up, i'm so sorry LMAO.

no cause that happens to me too…dw. 😔

[malsmind]

WHAT IS VAMPIRE!MATT UP TO ?? TELL ME TELL ME !!

OK OK.

so here is what he’s up to… but it’s gonna get a lot more interesting than you think.