#chris sturniolo black reader

[chrxsprettygirl]

𝓣𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓒.𝓢

Pairing: Bf!Chris x Gf!black!reader

Summary: When Chris’s girlfriend gets his name tattooed on her ass

Cw: smut, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, profanity, p in v, dry humping, unprotected sex, pet names, pornography, dom!chris, sub!reader, ass slapping, hair pulling, name tattoos (duh) , BACKSHOTSS AYE.

I set my phone on Chris’s desk and bit record before calling for him to “ CHRIS” I yelled “YEAH” I hear him respond from upstairs sounds like he is in Matt’s room “CAN YOU COME DOWN HERE PLEASE” I reply before looking at the camera smiling nervously, soon enough I hear him open the door walking towards “Whats up babe” his lips come down on mine one hand going to squeeze my ass, I pull away when he notices the camera “Whats this about” he jerks his head to the phone “I have a surprise for you” i smiling looking up him “ouuuuuu a surprise” he sits on the couch waiting for me to show him his surprise. My hands grab the waistband of my sweatpants slowly pulling them down, Chris raise his eyebrows with a look of amusement on his face, I turn around so the little red tattoo on the side of my ass ‘Christopher’ in cursive. His eyes lit up turning around looking up at me “Your fucking lying” he practically jumps up off the couch “baby don’t play with me” he turns me around looking at it again “im not playing with you” I turn back around “do you like it?” He looks at me like I just asked him if the earth is round “Do I like it? Baby do I fucking like it? Are you seriously asking that? Ofc I fucking like it are you kidding me holy fuck” he huffs out grabbing my ass and pulling me in for another kiss, this one more heated than the other.

My hands grip unto his shirt tilting my head pulling him even closer to me, he taps my ass I gasp while he shoves his tongue in my mouth exploring every crook, cranny and crevice of my mouth. I moan into the kiss my brain getting fuzzy and clouded, I run my hands down his torso tugging on his shirt indicating that I wanted it off he pulls away looking down at me with a smirk before taking his shirt and helping me out my sweatpants pulling me into his lap on the couch behind us “Chris the camera” I say breathlessly “Leave it.” He says his mouth travel my jaw and neck I nod slightly enjoying the feeling of his mouth on my skin slowly grinding my hips down on him, he places his hands on my hips guiding my movements. I throw my head back as he kisses his way back up to my lips again.

“Mm just like that” he mumbles into the kiss before biting and tugging in my lower lip just hands still helping me grind on his crotch. I close my eyes focusing on pleasure he’s giving me, soon enough I feel the knot tightening in my stomach throwing my head back “Yeah you close princess?” I hum in response until I feel him stop my hips movements, I whine feeling the orgasm going away “lay on your back” I do as I’m told planting my feet on bed he moves in between my legs taking off my panties and throwing them across the room spreading my legs further apart, I buck my hips up impatiently waiting for him to touch me, he chuckles pressing feather like kisses all over my inner thighs slowly coming down to my core pressing a kiss on my clit I gasp as he start devouring my pussy (RIP that pussy ayeee) “Ah fuck Chris” my hands fly to his head my fingers tangling in his hair.

All you could hear was my moaning and him slurping up every single drop of my arousal. My orgasm builds up again this time a little bit stronger my legs clamp around his head “c-chris im g-gonna…fuck gonna c-cum” I breathe out he gums against me “go ahead ma cum all over my face” without wasting a second i release in his mouth the wave of pleasure crashing down on me, he moves his mouth up my body and captures my lips once again, he takes of my tank top and bra with ease as he flips me over on my stomach I hear him taking his pants and underwear off I look back to see him looking for something in his pocket. His phone. He props my hips up leaving me face down ass up as he slowly pushes his cock deep into my cunt “shit ma you’re so tight” he hisses slowly moving his hips, i then hear the clicking of his camera I look back at him to see him taking pics of my ass, specifically the tattoo of his name “Fuck you going around getting my name tatted on your ass…shit I swear I’m gonna marry you one day” my heart flutters at that statement. He picks up the pace practically slamming down into me my mouth hanging open little moans coming out every time he slams back into me, soon I feel him slapping my ass repeatedly the skin starting to burn deliciously “Yeahhh look at you, taking my cock so well with my name on your ass, it suits you baby” the knot in my stomach starts to form once again, im clenching down on him, I hear him hissing and grunting behind me “you gonna cum ma?” He questions me pulling my hair to look at my fucked out face that pretty sure is covered in sweat and my lace is probably lifting from him pulling on it, I give him a slight nod the words getting stuck in my throat. He lets go of my hair placing both his hands on my hips “cum for me baby let me feel you” my body starts convulsing as my orgasm washes over my entire body, as I’m coming down from the height I feel him shot his warm cum into my punani (im sorry I needed to) stilling inside me.

2 weeks later…

Chris just came back home, it’s been about two weeks since I got his name tattooed on me.

“Ok close your eyes and turn around I got something I want to show you” he says I can tell he’s excited by the way his voice sounds and the way he quite literally can’t stay still, I close my eyes I hear rustling behind me think about it could be he has up his sleeves “Okai you can turn around now” I turn to face him opening my eyes, he’s shirtless before me I eye his body until they stop on his chest, the plastic covering the elegant writing in red in his left pec (that sentence makes absolutely no sense but u get it). Its my name. I look at his face feeling my heart swelling I run up to him wrapping arms around his neck kissing him passionately “you like it?” He question between kisses I pull away looking at him “are you serious? Ofc I love it what you didn’t have to do that, I mean you don’t even have any other tattoos” i reply feeling a overwhelming sense of joy, he just got my name tattooed on him. On the left side of his chest. Where his heart is. I swear there’s is no man I’ll ever need beside him, he looks down at me a devious smirk across his lips “why don’t you show me how much you like it hm?” I look at him with the same smirk pulling him to my bedroom.

Dividers by: @issysh3ll

AN: I feel like this was lil short but eh

Random tags: @trevorsgodmother @nickgurl4life @chrepsi @chrisslluut @chrisshands @chrisprettybaby @chrissleftshoe @mattztrip @mattsleftball @mattsslvtzx @mattswrinkleton @mattscoquette @mattsturnioloismylordandsaviour @mattstattos @mattssluttywaist @mattsturnswife @chrissturnioloswife88 @chrissturnss @chriss-prettyygirll @chrissturnioloslvt @nickssidewitch @nick-stuxniolos-hg @nicksturniolopleaseatmeout @nicksturm-diamonsboy @nicksturnshoe @sturniolotripletlover @sturniolotwins @sturnswrites @sturni-stars @sturniolosconfesion @strnlslut @chrislilcumslvt

[dreaamdiary]

CHRIS X READER QUICKIE IN THE SHOWER BLURB (18+)

you should’ve know better then expecting to take a normal shower when staying over at chris’ because of fucking course they have an ongoing war over who takes a shower and timing it at that.

you stood in the middle of his bathroom, maxed out with the eucalyptus scent of his body wash and steam curled around the edges of the foggy glass blurring your vision of chris, who stood beneath the shower, head tilted back allowing water to run throughout his body.

he cracked an eye open and turned down his music, noticing you in nothing but a towel and your usual annoyed expression.

“um, yeah?” his voice was lazy like he was seconds away from falling asleep mid-shower. “ya don’t fuck with knocking no more?”

“chris when am i taking my shower?” you asked, arms crossed over your chest, holding the towel in place.

“relax ma, you just gotta’ wait.”

“no, i’ve already been waiting for two hours, im tired n’ i wanna’ shower before i knock out.”

chris exhaled dramatically but not budging from his spot, “guess you should’ve went when i told you right?” he said in a teasing tone, you could detect his low laugh through his breath.

“chris. shut the fuck up, being sassy and shit.” you rolled your eyes at his remark, actually starting to regret not taking him up on his offer to shower earlier.

he grinned, running a hand over his wet hair, “you tryna’ fight me over the shower right now?”

“i didn’t think i’d have to wait on matt too, get your shit fixed,” you groaned and rubbed your temple.

a beat passed before chris huffed and sticks his head out the glass door, hand out and waiting for you to jump in, “fuck it, get in.”

“no,” you shrug simply.

“no? s’not like i haven’t been inside you or anything” he absentmindedly joked, not caring how agitated you were at the moment.

you narrow your eyes at him, “i want to actually shower, chris.”

“and you can do it now or in bout’ a hour, which one baby?”

you hesitated.

then sighed in defeat, unwrapping yourself from the towel and throwing it on the rack. chris watched with a satisfied expression and a smug smirk, knowing he would get his way regardless.

taking your hand, he pulled you in, hot water immediately hitting your skin, welcoming relief and relaxing your muscles after the long day y’all had.

chris stood close behind, his body heat mixing with the steam of the water and his gaze fixed on you.

“stop lookin’ at me” you pointed out, reaching for your vanilla body wash.

“you in my shower, ma”

you rolled your eyes again, but felt the way your stomach flipped. the tension was so sexual and thick, undeniably built up in the small space.

your tried to ignore it, bending over, minding your business and scrubbing suds all over your lower half.

chris shuffled closer, his breath heavy and fingers trailing down your sides and resting low on your hips, slow and deliberate. “since y’already here…” his voice dripped with lust, low and raspy whispering in your ear.

“move, babe—”

you couldn’t even finish your sentence, he was already gliding his tip between your folds, teasing you slowly. your now pressed against the cool tile, chris turning your head to his and connecting your lips. the water ran between you, but neither cared to move.

your body felt like it was on fire as chris’ hands mapped their way around it not missing an inch of you and finally slipping his full length into your sopping cunt, eager to suck him in all while maintaining the sloppy kiss.

“ohhh, fuuuck” chris groaned out, his head thrown back to the ceiling and mouth hung open while your gummy walls clenched around him, squeezing him in so tight like you were perfectly made for him.

“mmh, chris” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, feeling his tip kiss your cervix over and over again. your shower sponge was long forgotten as chris held you up by your neck, leaving traces of saliva as he kissed it and fucked into you at the same time.

you looked down at your bodies colliding, water droplets bouncing off your pelvis’s and splashing you in the faces while your overwhelmed with pleasure. your whole body is leaning on chris, allowing him to plow as deep and fast as he needed.

growing worn out you laid your head on his shoulder and panted out, barley audible, “you’re.. sucha’ liar…”

you gasped feeling your arousal build up in your stomach and moans bubbling in your throat.

“i didn’t lie baby, jus’ tricked ya” chris grunted lowly and moved his hand from your jaw to your mouth, attempting to muffle your outburst of moans. he brung the other hand down to your clit, messaging quick circles causing you to shake in his arms.

“cum—cumming”

“shh…that’s my good girl, you gonna’ squirt f’me baby?”

chris choked out groans as he thrusted his cum deep inside, stopping and releasing your juices with each movement while you creamed all over his dick, leaving strings and streaks of your cum as he fucked you both through your orgasms. “fuck, fuck, fuck..”

“ugh, chrisss,” you whined out his name as you felt yourself come down from your high. chris began to loose his rhythm, the constant slapping noise fading out and revealing loud thuds followed by nicks voice echoing from upstairs.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”

you froze like a deer in head lights as chris sighed against your neck, “awe shit.”

“YOU TWO ARE ACTUALLY RIDICULOUS, GET THE FUCK OUT THE SHOWER,” the hollering got even louder, honestly impressing you, so loud that it sounded like he was right outside the door.

chris carefully slipped out of you, legs still twitching and pussy so sensitive to the touch.

“he’s so dramatic.” chris muttered behind your neck, using his hands to stabilize you on the floor.

“chris, you could’ve just gotten out the shower and we wouldn’t be in this situation”

he glared at you for a second before sending a slap to your ass while you climbed out the shower, “nah, don’t start complaining now, y’know what you were doin’.”

𓂃⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ 𝒯𝒜𝒢𝐿𝐼𝒮𝒯 𓂅 𝑀𝒜𝒮𝒯𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝒮𝒯 𓂅

[mopslusher]

Hey guysss my first ever post hope you like itttt this is like exposure therapy im shitting myself x

TW: masturbation, idk really

Virgin Hamzah hcs!

- so, first of all he’d definitely be fantasising about ALL the things he’d want to do to you when you guys are causally hanging out, even tho he’s never done anything sexual in his life. Ur bending over to pick something up? He’s there, silently watching and thinking about how he’d like to pound u from behind and quickly looking away when you stand up 🙈

- he’s 100% stroking his dick at night to the thought of you, your voice, your pretty eyes everything about you tbh. And just to get a clear pic he’s stalking your insta as he does his eyes focusing on the curves of your body and your plump pretty lips

- Always gets awkwardly quiet whenever you talk about any kind of sexual experience ( him and y/n are causal friends atp) and huffs and sighs under his breath at the thought of you doing something with anyone else (and also lowkey feels like he’s not experienced enough for you)

- Literally any and I mean ANY form of contact between your bodies will get him all flustered and he’s stuttering over his words. E.g sitting on the couch next to him as y’all were both having your silent TikTok time, he had his vape in his lap and you causally picked it up (idc my y/n is a nic addict like me💔), your fingers brushing over his upper thigh, he suddenly becomes extra aware of his breathing, feeling his skin start to tingle and burn up on the spot you had touched. All he could do was adjust himself on the couch (IYKYK) and attempt to hide his boner as you mindlessly continued your scrolling.

Okay guys!! Thanks if you read to this point you get a kiss 💋

[amsznn]

can you do a story about how chris and the reader meet at tara’s party but before that, reader accidentally revealed that she found chris cute and the she went viral for it (idk if that makes sense)

SOCIAL MEDIA FRENZY - c. sturniolo

2 days ago..

“chat are we enjoying this haul? don’t flame my style in the comment section.” you warned to your viewers on instagram live before grabbing the next package of clothes off the floor, ready to show your 14k viewers the next batch of items. “next youtube video when?” you read off from a comment.

“this was going to be a youtube haul, but i got lazy so..new video this week!”

your rise as an influencer had to be studied. from a random youtube vlog that you made out of the want to romanticize your life a bit and a rant on tiktok people found funny that gained 2.5 million likes caused you to not only receive near to 3 million subscribers on youtube but almost 1.9 million on tiktok.

this was only in the span of 2 years. growing and working to not only please your new fans but to also have fun for yourself as you still decided to go to college for that degree.

social media was just a hobby for you like a lot of people say. but you truly couldn’t expect the new wave of attention you would revolve for a simple comment you made.

the next item of your haul was a fitted cap that you saw at a pop up shop in your city. you recognized it from somewhere else and decided to buy it since it was also cute.

“guys this cap i actually bought because this youtuber, chris sturniolo also wears it in his videos.” at the mention of the social media star your comments flooded. “guys calm down, im not crazy, he’s just cute okay?” you laughed before setting the cap down then moving to the next piece of clothing.

soon enough you ended the live and went on with your day as normal. filming a bit of your vlog for your new video, answering emails from brands, doing some household chores and of course, settling down in your bed with some snacks for your nightly tiktok scrolling.

as soon as you opened the app you got bombarded with a screen recording of your live with the bit where you said chris was cute. it was all over. even on twitter you began trending for the potential new relationship between you and the social media star.

all you could do is read the comments, some encouraging and some hateful, watch edits of you two being shipped, and quickly text your manager profusely apologizing for the mess you just made.

you groaned while rolling around in your bed. sometimes you just forgot you were too well known to be spewing whatever nonsense came to mind.

which brings us here.

at taras party.

since she was inviting influential people, and her friends, you were a definite invite on her list. and you knew either all of one of the triplets would be there too.

you were nervous to bump into chris. would he even speak to you? and if he did would he be uncomfortable or understanding? well you were about to find out in a moment since he was walking in your general direction.

you mustered up all the courage you could and began to walk towards him. feeling the need to apologize to him since the situation was your fault and it must be annoying for him as well.

you came to a stop as he turned his body to fully face you. your breath hitched for moment taking his appearance all in. his black hoodie and black baggie jeans with his messy hair was a lot to take in in person.

either way you were gonna say what you needed to say. “hey, my names y/n. you might know me. or not thats fine too!” you stumble across your words for a minute before taking a deep breath. you could feel his eyes on you but you remembered hes just a person too.

“you may have seen the plenty of edits and a lot of my supporters in your comment sections or dms, and i just wanted to say im sorry since its been going for three days now and you must be annoyed.” you said it all in one breath and finally met the boys eyes. instead of confusion you were met with a look of amusement.

“oh you’re completely fine. honestly i felt bad for you since you were getting a lot of hate for a simple comment.” chris shrugged while giving you his signature smile. you smiled as well glad that he seemed fine with the recent uproar.

“ive heard worse.” chris said while grimacing at the thought which caused you to laugh nodding in agreement. the night went on with you and chris sticking together for the majority of the party. introducing one another to friends, chris introducing you to nick (your new best friend) and overall having a great time. before you left chris made sure to get your number and texted you to make sure you arrived home safely.

you couldnt help the smile that was spreading on your face as you recall the events of the night. maybe making that comment wasnt so bad after all.

walking towards your room of your apartment, you plopped down onto your bed and decided to make a quick instagram post for the night.

and guess who liked the post?

a/n: i hope yall enjoy this cus i sure did (i was so close to making this into a smut 😭)

[vvinirl]

chris. s

“no, chris i already told you he’s not supposed to have this much sweets, he could get sick” you complained, reaching over to unbuckle your son out of his car seat. chris rolled his eyes behind you before replying back. “i didn’t give him that much, he’s strong, he can handle a little sweet”

“he’s only 2, that was too much sugar for a 2 year old” you finally unbuckled the seatbelt, lifting your son out of his car seat of chris’s car. you grabbed your sons backpack and begin walking back to your house. chris closed the car door and followed behind you

“come on ma, it’s not a big deal” chris added back, his hands in the pocket of his sweats. “so it won’t be a big deal when he gets sick, right?”

“that’s not what i said. you’re being too overprotective”

“well someone has to”

chris sucked his teeth, entering after you into the house and closing and locking the door behind him. “he’ll be fine, i know how to take care of my son”

“my son” you answered back, earning a side eye from chris. “we both made him”

“but who carried him and went through all the pain?” you placed your baby onto his changing table to check if he needed changing. “relax, i already changed him”

chris came up behind you, placing his hands on your hips and putting his face into the croak of your neck. you rolled your eyes, trying to push him away with your elbows

he always did this, whenever he brought your son back after the weekend, you two would always find something to argue about- well mostly you because you didn’t trust him with your son, not because he was a bad father or anything but you didn’t like when he brought your son around other females

even if you two were no longer together, chris was still in his son’s life, he was still there and providing for the both of you. you told him multiple times you didn’t need his money for yourself, only your son but chris insisted on you still paying and buying things for you. you weren’t fully against it because sometimes you needed to get your nails done and what not sometimes. chris would offer to pay for it, he would be glad to still spend money on you even if you still didn’t want him- is what you tell yourself but each time he brought your son back, chris didn’t leave without fucking you like old times

“i missed you and your pretty face” he placed a light kiss onto your shoulder, pulling you against him more, his hands slowly beginning to travel down to your ass. you rolled your eyes again sucking your teeth

the action made your baby cooed and giggled as he looked up at you, his big blue eyes looking up at you. your baby barely brought any of your features, it was all chris, his hair, eyes, smile, everything. every time you looked at your son, you saw chris

you pushed chris back and picked up your son, walking him to his nursery for nap time. chris followed you closely, a small smirk on his face, “you mad at me mama?”

“i told you stop calling me that” you laid your son into his crib, turning him on his stomach and rubbing his back softly to put him to sleep. “you used to love it, especially when you were cumming around my dick”

“do you need to be so nasty right in front of the baby?”

“it’s not like he can understand me, right?” chris smiled down at the baby, as if the baby would answer back

“he’s trying to sleep, unless you wanna put him to sleep yourself” you rolled your eyes

“i can easily do it, he loves his daddy more”

“sure”

chris laughed at your attitude, he enjoyed it, something he really missed- amongst others. a few moments passed and your baby was finally asleep, both you and chris watched him sleep for a while, the two of you looking over him, it felt kinda nice to have chris next to you, you wish things were different, maybe if chris wasn’t playing around

“you’re all i see in him” you broke the silence, looking over to chris, a small smile forming on your face for a few seconds before you rolled your eyes. “what did i tell you, he’s like a mini me”

you straightened up as chris did too, grabbing you by your waist again and pulling you in. “don’t be mad at me, i didn’t think a little sugar would piss you off this much”

“i’m not mad, i just want you to be careful more with what you let him eat”

“he’ll be fine, i promise” assured you, reaching one hand up to caress your cheek. you sighed and looked down at your baby before looking back up at chris again. “can you stop pouting at me now? i missed those pretty lips”

chris pulled you in, connecting his lips to yours. you didn’t protest like you usually would’ve, you sighed softly into the kiss, giving in to him again like always. it’s like he had some hold over you, you always fell for him again and again, like he was some drug you couldn’t get enough of

chris’s head was thrown back against the pillows, his head resting against them as he bucked his hips up into you, each thrust meeting a moan from you as you leaned against his shoulder

your moans in his ear only made him more eager, his grip on your hips digging into your skin and he began to pound up into you at a faster pace

your back arched as you leaned up slightly, you begin to move with him, moving your body down to meet his hips. the sound of skin against skin filled the room as you tried to bite back your moans but struggled, you didn’t want to wake your baby

his breath came out in short pants as he looked up at you, watching the way you moved your body down to meet his hips

each time you brought your body down to meet his, chris’s moans mixed with yours, filled the room. the air was thick and heavy with the scent of sex now, only increasing chris to pound into you harder and faster

“fuck- i’m close, m’gonna cum” you panted, your grip on the sheets tightening

chris nodded in agreement, his grip on your hips tightening further as he thrusted up into you at a furious pace. he grunted slightly, his head thrown back in pleasure as he listened to your moans and groans, each one sending a jolt of arousal through his body

“yeah? gonna cum for me baby?” he panted out in between his groans. “mhmm~” you whimpered before biting down on my bottom lip you, trying to stifle your moans again

the combined sight of you riding him and your actions only made him impossibly more turned on, and he knew he was getting close as well

he pulled you closer against his body, his lips now latching onto your neck to leave love bites and hickeys

the way you reacted to him was driving him crazy with lust, and it only made him more motivated to pound up into you harder. “good girl, that’s my good girl” he said, his low moans and grunts against your neck as he kissed and left marks on any available skin he could reach

he pulled you back against him, his chest now flush against yours as he leaned upwards. his lips claimed yours in a sloppy kiss, and he swallowed each moan that left you, his arms wrapping around your body to hold you tighter against him

“you gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he asked breathlessly, his lips now hovering millimeters away from yours

“mhmm” your lips were slightly parted as you let out soft moans against his lips-throwing your ass back down on him. “that’s it, ride me just like that baby” he panted out, his grip on your hips now practically bruising them, his nails starting to dig into your skin as he brought his head up to place his forehead against yours

“fuckkk” your stomach begin to tighten as your head fell back against his shoulder, your movements since your thighs were getting sore- stopping as he started moving you to ride him now

you begin to clench around him, squeezing him length.

chris couldn’t help but release a loud moan as he felt you clench around him. there was something about the way you wrapped around him that only enhanced the pleasure he was feeling, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer

“fucck, you’re so tight- taking me so good” he panted out again, his voice a mixture of a growl and a low groan, “always taking me so well mama”

one of chris hands came up to wrap around your neck, slightly squeezing it as he moved your body to meet his faster

his lips were now on your neck, placing hot, open mouth kisses and bites as he panted into your skin, his other hand holding your hip in place as he pumped his dick up into you, his thrusts becoming sloppy

“i’m getting close, where do you want it?” chris panted out, his face now buried in your neck again as he continued to buck up into you, chasing his pleasure.

“i-in” you whimpered against his shoulder, burying your face slightly into his neck. chris’s body trembled slightly as he heard you whimper ‘in’. the feeling of your face snuggled against his neck was hot, and knowing that you wanted him to finish inside you was only making his body flush with heat and desire

he nodded against your shoulder, his breath coming out in ragged pants next to your ear “yeah? you want me to fill up this pretty pussy baby?

“m-mhmm~” you let out a choked moan against his shoulder, his words sending you over the edge as you felt myself clench around him one last time before you were releasing onto him

his grip tightened around you but not tight enough to hurt you as he came too. he held you tightly against him as he rode out his own orgasm, his moans low as he slowly but slightly roughly continued to thrust into you, fucking his cum into you

you let out soft whimpers, your body relaxing against his. chris let all the pent-up tension he’d been feeling release and relaxed against you as well. his grip on you loosened as well as his breathing started to slow, his chest rising and falling deeply. he placed a few lazy kisses against your shoulder as he rested his head against you, feeling completely spent

you let out soft sighs, trying to catch your breath. you could feel your juices mixed together slowly oozing out of you as he was still buried inside you

after a few moments of regaining his breath and energy, chris eventually spoke, his voice low and slightly hoarse from his previous moans and groans

“take me back, baby, please” he pleaded, this wasn’t anything new, he always begged to have you back, his body ached and yearned for you but as always, you replied back with, “i’ll think about it”

[sabsclusive]

SOLD OUT ON SUNDAYS𓂃۶ৎ ─── ❛❛ 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻 : 𝟏𝟐𝑲? ❞ . WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT/SMUT, STRONG LANGUAGE, SUB!MATT, DOM!MATT, DOM!READER, DOM!MATT, JEALOUS/POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, ARGUMENTS, EMOTIONAL TENSION !!

The store smells like dust and vinyl. Like that old-lady perfume you can’t name but know by heart, and rain-soaked cardboard boxes stacked by the front. The radio in the back’s playing some crusty old jazz station — something with too many horns — and the fluorescent light above the counter is flickering like it’s got beef with the ceiling. Matt doesn’t even notice anymore.

He’s behind the register, headphones halfway in, hoodie up, looking half-dead. He’s got one AirPod in and the other tucked into his hoodie pocket, and even though nobody’s shopped in twenty minutes, he’s still thumbing through the rack of CDs like there’s treasure hidden in between the cracked Jewel cases.

Until the doorbell rings.

Ding.

He doesn’t have to look up. He already knows it’s you.

The girl who only shows up on Sundays. The one who wears the same pair of Air Force 1s like they’re armor. The one who never talks except to mumble “thanks,” iced coffee in one hand and something oversized slung over your shoulder — always. You shop like it’s a mission. Like you’re here to save the ugly clothes nobody else wants. Matt doesn’t get it, but… he also kind of does.

You walk in with your headphones on, no eye contact, no smile. Just straight to the racks like clockwork. Sundays mean chaos for everybody else — brunch, church, errands — but for you? It’s thrift therapy.

And Matt?

Well. Matt watches.

Not in a creepy way. He just notices.

You always go for the skirts first. Then the oversized blazers. Then the bin with the ugly sweaters, like you dare them to be cute. He’s seen you hold up a lime green mohair cardigan like it was the hottest thing in the store — and then actually make it hot a week later when you wore it in here cropped, cinched, and stitched with rhinestones on the collar.

It’s annoying. It’s impressive. It’s kind of hot.

Not that he’d say that.

Matt watches you flip through hangers like you’re flipping pages of a book. Sometimes he tries to guess what you’ll pick. He’s almost always wrong. You like things with ugly patterns and weird buttons. You like jackets that don’t match your shoes and pants that don’t match your bag. But somehow, it works. And somehow, you don’t care if anybody else gets it.

He does, though. Lowkey.

You’ve been coming in every Sunday for two months now, and you still haven’t said more than five words to him. But Matt remembers every outfit. Every bag. The time you wore two skirts layered on top of each other and made it fashion? Yeah. He still thinks about that.

“Yo,” he says casually when you finally head toward the counter, two skirts in your hand and a blazer that smells like mothballs slung over your arm.

You blink. Slide your headphones down.

“Huh?”

He nods toward the items. “You know it’s half off jackets today, right?”

You pause. “Even this one?”

Matt glances at the tag. “Yeah. That’s technically a jacket. Even if it looks like it got pulled out of somebody’s uncle’s closet.”

You snort. “That’s kind of the point.”

Matt smirks.

You pull your phone out to check your student discount — and freeze. Then curse under your breath.

“No way,” you mutter. “I left my ID. Again.”

Matt leans forward on the counter. “Second time this month.”

You look up at him, annoyed — more at yourself than him, but still. “You memorize that or something?”

He shrugs. “You’re memorable.”

Oh.

Not him saying that all casual like he didn’t just make your stomach do a full cartwheel.

You roll your eyes to hide the smile threatening to creep up. “Whatever.”

You go to set the clothes down, but Matt leans in a little closer. “You could leave it on hold ‘til next week. Or, I could just act like you showed me the ID and give you the discount anyway.”

You blink.

“…You’d do that?”

He shrugs again. “I don’t snitch.”

You purse your lips, then nod once. “Cool.”

He starts ringing you up, slow and careful. You fidget with your sleeves, feeling the tension creep up your neck. There’s something weird about the air between you two today — like it’s… warmer. Or maybe that’s just him watching you a little longer than usual.

You glance up. “You work Sundays every week?”

He looks surprised you asked. “Yeah. Only day I don’t have class.”

“Oh. You go to school?”

“Community college. Art program.” He clears his throat, like he wasn’t planning to say that. “Trying to transfer next year.”

You blink again. “What kind of art?”

He pauses.

“Stuff you’d probably call weird.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I literally turned a doily into a corset. Try me.”

He smiles at that. For real this time.

The door creaks, and you both glance toward it. It’s started raining outside — pouring. Like full downpour, windshield-wiper-on-high type rain. You groan, pulling your hoodie over your head.

Matt hesitates, then reaches under the counter and pulls out a folded-up thrifted umbrella.

“Keep it,” he says, holding it out like it’s no big deal. “Some lady left it in the dressing room last week.”

You squint at him. “You sure?”

He shrugs. “You’ll bring it back next Sunday.”

Oh.

So he really do pay attention.

You take the umbrella and look back at him. “Thanks.”

He nods. “See you next week.”

You pause at the door. Glance over your shoulder.

Then smile — just a little.

“Yeah,” you say. “See you.”

And then you’re gone, out into the rain, headphones back in, umbrella open. Matt watches the door swing closed behind you and presses play on his playlist. The jazz is still playing overhead. The CD rack still dusty. But yeah — the store feels different now.

Sundays used to feel like the slowest day of the week.

Now? They feel like something might actually happen.

The thing is, you weren’t even planning to try anything on.

You came in for one thing: that red tartan pencil skirt you saw on the mannequin last week. You had plans for it — split the hem, add grommets, maybe a lace-up moment in the back if you were feeling dramatic. It was supposed to be a quick in-and-out. Headphones in. Hoodie up. Zero eye contact. That was the system. That was what kept you sane every Sunday.

But the skirt was gone.

“What happened to the plaid?” you asked, pulling out one earbud, squinting across the racks like it might materialize if you looked hard enough.

Matt — that boy with the messy curls and the stare that was too intense to be polite — blinked at you from behind the counter. Like he was surprised you spoke. Like he hadn’t rung you up fifteen times already.

“Oh. Uh.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Sold it.”

You blinked. “To who?”

He shrugged. “Some girl. Yesterday.”

You blinked again. “And you let her?”

Matt tilted his head like that was a weird thing to say. “It’s a store,” he said slowly. “People buy stuff.”

You just stood there, betrayed. Your hand gripped the edge of a mismatched rack like it personally offended you. The silence stretched. Your iced coffee was sweating in your hand. You sighed, real dramatic, then wandered back toward the ‘Bottoms’ section.

Fine. If the tartan skirt was dead, you’d find something better. Hotter. Petty revenge by outfit.

You flipped past rows of corduroy, plaid, denim, sequins, and neon nightmare spandex until your fingers landed on it: a black leather micro mini. Mid-rise. Slight stretch. Gold stitching that caught the light like it was flirting with you. It had absolutely no business in a dusty little shop like this. Naturally, you snatched it.

The fitting rooms were tiny — more like prison cells with mirrors — but you squeezed inside anyway, peeling off your cargo pants with one hand and pulling the skirt on with the other. It hit mid-thigh. High-mid-thigh. You tugged it down. It tugged back. Rude.

Still, when you turned to the side, it was kind of… perfect?

You stepped out to check the mirror by the shoes, adjusting the waistband. You weren’t even thinking. Just doing that dumb thing where you admire the fit and make little mental notes like crop top, gold hoops, statement boot. You twisted to check the back.

That’s when you felt it.

Eyes.

You glanced up.

Matt was watching you from behind the register.

Not in a pervy way. Not in a creep behind the dressing room curtain way. But in a he forgot how to blink kind of way.

You blinked. He blinked back. Then looked away fast, cheeks blooming pink like somebody set a match to them.

You froze. Your heart did this stupid stutter, and you said the most intelligent thing possible:

“…You good?”

He coughed. “Yeah. Sorry. I wasn’t— I didn’t mean to—”

“I mean,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Do you like the skirt or…?”

Matt looked mortified. “It’s cool,” he mumbled.

You waited. He looked like he was fighting a demon.

“It’s…you wear it well.”

You snorted. “That’s so grandpa-coded.”

Matt half-smiled, still red. “It was either that or ‘slay,’ and I felt like that’d be worse.”

You turned back to the mirror, heart hammering in your ears like a kick drum. He said you wore it well. You wore it well. You didn’t even know Matt talked that much.

You looked back at him one more time, just to see if he was still staring.

He wasn’t.

But he was smiling.

The skirt went in the bag.

You didn’t even flinch at the $12 tag. You just handed Matt a crumpled twenty and said, “No receipt,” like you were buying something way less scandalous. He didn’t say anything either. Just rang you up like normal. Only his hands were a little shaky, and he gave you a paper bag instead of plastic, which he never did.

You walked out that Sunday in your cargos again, the skirt rolled up in the bag, but it felt different now. The air. The weight of the door swinging shut behind you. Like the rhythm of your Sundays — same iced coffee, same entrance, same rack to the left of the fake potted fern — was off. In a good way. Like a song you’ve played a hundred times just hit different one day.

By next week, he’d put a disco ball on the counter.

You weren’t sure why it caught you so off guard. It was a tiny thing — probably from the kids’ section — but it was spinning. Slowly. And Matt was just standing behind it like he hadn’t added a whole party prop to the register area.

“Okay, Studio 54,” you said, raising a brow.

He glanced up from pricing cassette tapes. “Huh?”

You pointed at the disco ball.

“Oh.” His eyes widened like he forgot it was there. “You like it?”

You squinted. “I’m deciding.”

Matt nodded, serious. “Let me know. We value feedback here at Dusty Depot.”

You snorted. “That better not be the actual name.”

He shrugged. “It is now.”

You bit your lip so you wouldn’t smile, but he caught it anyway. His mouth twitched.

You moved to the rack, same as always, but now there was this… extra hum in the air. Like both of you knew something changed. You didn’t know what it was yet, but it was sitting in the air between you — right next to the disco ball.

You were flipping through old concert tees when you heard him again.

“You have good taste.”

You glanced up. “Obviously.”

Matt looked mildly impressed. “Okay.”

“What?” you grinned.

“Nothing,” he said, trying not to smile. “I just think you’re funny or whatever.”

That “or whatever” hung in the air for too long.

“Wow. High praise from a guy who shelves porcelain dolls for a living.”

“They’re vintage,” he said, deadpan.

“And terrifying.”

He shrugged. “It’s camp.”

You cracked up. That was the first time he made you laugh out loud, like actually laugh. Not the polite kind, either. A real, scrunched-nose, unfiltered cackle that made you step back and cover your face.

“Stop,” you wheezed, shaking your head. “You’re gonna make me buy something cursed.”

Matt tilted his head. “You already did. That mini skirt had beef.”

You stared at him.

He blinked. “I mean—it was like, spicy. Not spicy spicy, just… like… fashionably rude.”

You burst out laughing again. “Fashionably rude is wild.”

He shrugged. “I call it like I see it.”

And just like that, your Sundays weren’t the same anymore.

You weren’t supposed to be back there.

Not technically. Not unless you worked there. But there you were, standing next to the register, peeking at the stickers he’d slapped across the cash drawer and the messy handwriting on his price tags. The air smelled like old records, plastic hangers, and a little bit of boy. Which is to say… like sandalwood deodorant and soda someone forgot to throw away.

“You really don’t got a back room?” you asked, squinting.

Matt shook his head, crouched under the counter digging through a bin of misplaced earrings. “We got the closet. That’s where we keep the weird mannequins and taxidermy nobody wants.”

“That’s sick.”

“You’d like it.”

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Wow. I’m flattered.”

He smirked, eyes still down. “You give cursed energy. In a good way.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t say anything. Mostly because your heart was acting like it had never been around a boy before. He was right there — right next to you — knees grazing yours every time he shifted. And you were wearing one of your Sunday specials: a denim maxi skirt turned mini with safety pins up the side, paired with a mesh tee over a thrifted baby tank. You looked good. And Matt? He noticed.

He just didn’t say anything.

He never said anything. Not direct. But he looked. You weren’t imagining that.

“So what—” you started, to distract yourself, “—do you just stand back here looking mysterious all day?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes I price records. Sometimes I clean. Sometimes I pretend to clean.”

You nodded. “And sometimes you flirt badly.”

He froze.

Then stood up way too fast, hitting his head on the counter. “Ow.”

You blinked. “Oh my God.”

“I’m good,” he winced, rubbing the back of his head.

You squinted at him. “Sure. Real smooth.”

Matt laughed under his breath, still pink in the face. “Didn’t say I was good at flirting.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t,” you said, turning so he wouldn’t see you smiling.

Silence settled in again — warm and thick and slow, like honey.

You peeked down at the register. “Wait… are those Pokémon stickers?”

Matt turned redder. “…No.”

You pointed. “Is that Pikachu with a grill?”

“Okay, yes. But ironically.”

You cracked up. “Yeah, okay, cashier of the year.”

He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, a little shy, a little smug.

And then — like it wasn’t a big deal at all — he asked:

“You wanna price stuff with me?”

Your brows raised. “Like, actually?”

He nodded. “I trust your taste.”

You tried to play it cool. “So I can abuse power and price cute stuff lower?”

Matt smirked. “I plead the fifth.”

You bit your lip. “Bet.”

And just like that, you were in. Behind the counter. Sitting on a crooked stool next to a boy who thought you were funny, stylish, and maybe a little cursed in the best way.

That Sunday lasted three hours.

Neither of you even noticed.

It started with the yellow sunglasses.

You didn’t even plan the fit like that — it was lazy. Tube top, patchwork jeans, cardigan falling off your shoulder, and those crooked yellow lenses you’d found in a $1 bin the first Sunday you ever came in. You tossed them on your head and walked in sipping a strawberry matcha like you weren’t thinking about Matt all morning.

But you were.

A little.

Okay, a lot.

He was behind the counter like usual, hoodie half on, curls messier than last time, writing something in a tiny notebook. He didn’t look up right away. He always looked up when you walked in — and this time, he didn’t.

You hovered by the scarves a little longer than necessary.

Finally, he looked up.

Then looked again.

And stayed.

You caught it.

It wasn’t the “oh, she’s here again” look. Or the “let me not be weird” look. It was the lingering kind. The kind where someone’s eyes trail down — from your lips to your neck to the gold chain resting on your collarbone — then flick up real fast when they realize they’re being too obvious.

You blinked. “You good?”

Matt jumped slightly, eyes wide. “Huh? Yeah. Sorry. Just spaced.”

“Mmhm.”

You walked over slow, dragging your fingers across a row of vintage windbreakers like you weren’t clocking the way his gaze stuck to your hands.

“I’m saying,” you added, “if you’re gonna stare, at least be sneaky about it.”

Matt flushed. “I wasn’t— I mean— I’m not—”

You tilted your head. “You weren’t staring?”

He cleared his throat. “Not in a weird way.”

You held back a smirk. “Cool. So it’s the normal kind of staring.”

Matt turned bright red and ducked back behind the register like it was a shield.

You laughed to yourself and walked off — not too fast — and pulled a floral mini from the rack just for drama. It had ruffles. He absolutely saw it. Later, while you were flipping through old cookbooks by the dusty stereo, he crept up next to you.

“I like your sunglasses.”

You turned to him, lifting the yellow shades off your head and sliding them onto your nose. “These?”

He nodded, soft. “They’re loud. In a good way.”

You blinked behind the lenses. “You always say stuff like that.”

“Like what?”

“Stuff that sounds like compliments, but you’re too shy to say it straight up.”

He laughed under his breath. “I said I liked ‘em.”

You studied him. “You like me, too?”

He looked stunned.

Then he smiled — not big, just enough.

“I plead the fifth,” he murmured.

And walked off.

You stood there, cheeks burning, pretending not to freeze.

Because that? That wasn’t nothing. You knew they closed at 6.

The sign said it.

Your phone told you.

Matt told you. Twice.

But when 6:07 rolled around and he still hadn’t kicked you out… you kept pretending to flip through a rack of ripped Levi’s like you couldn’t read time.

“You know we closed, right?” he said, leaning against the wall, arms folded.

You didn’t look up. “Oh nooo… for real? That’s crazy.”

He grinned. “You absolutely know what time it is.”

You shrugged. “Guess I just lost track.”

Matt squinted. “You always leave by now.”

“Maybe I’m evolving.”

He didn’t say anything for a second.

Then: “Maybe I don’t mind.”

That made you look up.

The store was dead quiet. Just the hum of the old AC and the faint sound of some soul record playing in the background — the kind that made the air feel warm. And Matt was right there, watching you. Not in a weird way. In a knowing way. Like he saw straight through your ‘I’m just shopping’ performance and didn’t mind one bit.

You laughed under your breath and set a jacket back on the hanger. “So what happens now? You gonna throw me out?”

He shook his head. “Nah.”

“Oh? You breaking store policy for me?”

He walked toward you slowly, every step louder than it should’ve been on that squeaky tile floor.

“I don’t think you’re just here for the clothes,” he said.

Your breath caught. “Oh?”

He stopped in front of you — not too close, but close enough that you could smell the cedar in his hoodie. Close enough to see the little scar under his chin and the freckle on his cheek.

“And if I am?” you asked.

Matt looked down at you, quiet. That stare again — soft, heavy, not moving. The kind that makes your knees do something they shouldn’t.

“Then I’m glad,” he said.

You laughed, nervous. “You’re weird.”

He shrugged. “You’re still here.”

Your fingers grazed a hanger behind you, but you weren’t really looking at the clothes anymore. You were looking at him. Wondering what it meant that he didn’t flinch when you got this close. Wondering if he always looked at girls like this — or if it was just you.

Then — completely calm, like it was the most natural thing in the world — he said:

“You wanna hear the record I keep behind the counter?”

You blinked. “You hide records now?”

“Only the good ones.”

He held out a hand.

And you took it. Behind the counter, the store looked different. Quieter. Older. The overhead lights buzzed while he put the record on. It cracked a little at the start — then melted into this warm, jazzy loop. Saxophones. A bassline. Some smoky-voiced woman crooning about wanting something she’s not supposed to want.

You sat on the little stool while he leaned on the register next to you, saying nothing.

Just listening.

Your knees touched.

Neither of you moved.

You didn’t leave until 7:43.

And even then, he held the door open slow. Like he didn’t want to watch you go.

It was dumb.

You barely touched him. Y’all didn’t even hug. But somehow your brain took that one long stare behind the register and ran with it like it was a full-blown music video. And now here you were — 3:02 in the morning, bonnet slightly crooked, laying flat on your back staring at the ceiling like Girl, be so serious right now.

Because why did you dream that he kissed you?

Why did your subconscious go full softboy indie romance on a boy who’s barely said more than eight sentences to you at a time?

And worse — why was it good?

You groaned into your pillow.

In the dream, you were back in the shop. But it was darker. Like dream-dim — warm string lights, a record spinning in slow motion. You were wearing something you would never wear in real life — some slinky little tank and a skirt that rode way too high.

He was behind the counter again. Looking at you like he knew something. Like he’d been knowing.

And then — no warning — he just stepped around the register, walked right up, and kissed you like he meant it. Hands low on your waist, mouth slow and sure, like it wasn’t the first time.

You woke up so mad.

You flopped back down and grabbed your phone.

Siri, why did my brain make up a whole fake moment with a boy who hasn’t even asked for my number?

Siri was useless.

You considered texting your group chat, but it was 3am. All they’d say was “you’re delulu” and “tell him.” As if it was that easy. As if you didn’t have a whole wall up made of sarcasm, thrifted boots, and an iced matcha addiction.

Still, you opened your notes app and typed:

Sunday.

Matt.

Dream.

Bonnet slipped off.

I hate it here.

You locked your phone and stared at the ceiling again.

You weren’t gonna act weird next time.

You weren’t gonna bring it up.

You were gonna be cool.

So cool.

It was a Sunday like any other. You walked into the thrift store, the familiar chime of the doorbell announcing your arrival. Matt was behind the counter, as usual, his head buried in a book. You made your way to the racks, pretending to browse while stealing glances at him.

After a while, you picked up a particularly hideous sweater and held it up. “Think this would look good on me?” you asked, a smirk playing on your lips.

Matt looked up, took one look at the sweater, and burst out laughing. Not the polite chuckle he usually gave, but a full, genuine laugh that lit up his face.

“Absolutely not,” he said, still laughing. “But I admire your confidence.”

You laughed too, the sound mingling with his. It was the first time you’d seen him so unguarded, and it made your heart flutter.

You spent the rest of the afternoon chatting, the conversation flowing easily. The tension between you was still there, but it was different now. Lighter. More playful.

“So what happens if I do buy the ugly sweater?” you asked, holding it up like it was high fashion.

Matt tilted his head, leaning on the counter. “I’d judge you.”

You smirked. “I can handle that.”

“I’d also say you owe me ten minutes behind the register to defend your choices.”

You blinked. “Ten minutes?”

He shrugged. “It’s serious business.”

The way he said it — that dry tone, the steady stare — made your stomach flip.

So you bought it.

Ten minutes later, you were behind the counter, standing way too close in a sweater that looked like a couch from 1973.

“This is deeply hideous,” you whispered.

Matt stood behind you. Too close. He smelled like laundry and cedar again.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But you make it look…” His voice trailed off.

You turned to face him.

That was a mistake.

You were way too close now — breathing each other in. Your back brushed the edge of the register. His hand was on the counter, knuckles brushing your waist like it wasn’t an accident.

His eyes dropped to your mouth.

“Say it,” you whispered.

He blinked, slow. “Say what?”

“Whatever you’re thinking.”

A beat passed.

Then, voice low:

“I’m thinking if I kissed you right now… you wouldn’t stop me.”

You didn’t move.

His hand slid off the counter — to your hip. Gripping. Testing.

You nodded once.

He leaned in.

The kiss was slow — mouth soft but full of intent. Like he’d been wanting to for weeks but refused to rush. His hand tightened at your waist, pulling you just a little closer. Your fingers curled into his hoodie. His tongue grazed yours — just once — and your knees damn near gave out.

Then he pulled back, barely.

His breath hit your mouth.

“You always stay this late?” he whispered.

You licked your lips. “Only when it’s worth it.”

You weren’t even looking for it.

You were behind the counter, killing time, sipping iced coffee and flipping through the sketchpad he left open like it wasn’t his entire brain on paper.

It was normal at first. Outlines of jackets. A couple sneaker silhouettes. Scribbled song lyrics in the margins. But then — dead in the middle of the book — you.

Back turned. Leaning forward. Coffee in hand, headphones on. Skirt barely covering anything. Down to the scuffed toe of your Doc and the chipped red nail polish on your thumb.

You stared at it for a long time.

“Matt,” you said, not even bothering to hide your tone.

He glanced over from the racks. “Yeah?”

You held it up. “You serious right now?”

One blink. Not a single flinch. “What?”

“This is me.”

“Damn,” he muttered dryly, walking over. “Caught.”

You tilted the book. “What, you just sit in the back drawing me like a project?”

He stood right in front of you now, voice low. “You been walking in here every Sunday in these little skirts, looking like that… and you’re surprised I noticed?”

You crossed your arms. “You didn’t say anything.”

He shrugged. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hi, I’m Matt, I jack off to you like twice a week’?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Relax,” he added, smirking. “I only drew it. I got a very vivid imagination.”

You stared at him. He stared right back.

That heat from last week came crawling up your throat. But now it was laced with something else. Tension — yeah. But also confusion. Intrigue. Suspicion.

“Come here,” he said, already reaching.

You didn’t move, but he stepped into your space anyway. Hand on your hip. Grip way too firm. The sketchbook slid off the counter and hit the floor with a dull thud.

“You creepin’ me out right now,” you whispered, even though your breath hitched the second he touched you.

“I haven’t even started yet,” he said, smiling like a dare. “You want creepy, baby, we can do creepy.”

And then — he kissed you. No build-up. Just heat. Teeth. Tongue. His hands gripped your waist so tight it felt like punishment. Like you owed him something.

You gasped, he laughed into your mouth. “That little noise? Yeah. Keep doing that.”

You barely remembered how your panties came off — only that they did, and fast. He sat you on the counter like it was a throne and dropped to his knees like he’d done it before. Your skirt got shoved up to your waist. His mouth was filthy — all tongue, all spit, all control.

“I should’ve done this the first time you walked in here,” he said, licking slow and messy up the inside of your thigh. “Could’ve saved myself the backaches.”

You moaned, grabbing his hair. He laughed again, mean this time.

“Yeah. Take it,” he muttered, pushing two fingers in without warning. “Thought you were real quiet. Turns out you’re just full of shit.”

He fucked you with his mouth and fingers till your thighs were shaking, then stood up and unzipped his jeans like it was nothing.

Condom. Wallet. Quick. Practiced.

He flipped you around and bent you over the counter like he owned you. You barely had time to breathe before he shoved in — hard. One hand in your hair. The other flat on your lower back, holding you in place like he knew you’d run.

“Goddamn,” he hissed. “This is what you been hiding under those grandma skirts?”

You whimpered.

He gripped harder. “What? You don’t like being talked to?”

You didn’t answer fast enough, so he grabbed your throat and pulled you back.

“Say it,” he whispered against your ear. “You want it like this?”

You choked out a breath: “Yes.”

He snapped his hips in deeper. You gasped, legs folding.

“Fuckin’ knew it.”

By the time he finished, your legs barely worked and your lipstick was smudged halfway down your face. He didn’t even pretend to be sweet. Just tucked himself back in, pulled your skirt down, and passed you your underwear with a stupid little smile.

“That sketch?” he said, nodding at the pad on the floor. “Think I’m gonna update it.”

You glared at him, breathless. “You’re sick.”

“Sure am,” he said, leaning in close. “And you still keep showing up.”

You barely remembered how you ended up outside in the rain. One minute you were stumbling around the back of the store, fighting with your jacket, and the next, you were standing under the awning, blinking hard to focus.

You should’ve gone home. You should’ve done anything but stand there, breathing the cold air and trying not to let the panic set in.

But you were thinking about him. About that.

And how much he’d messed with your head.

The front door to the store creaked open behind you. You didn’t turn. You didn’t want to turn. But you could feel him before he spoke.

“You can’t leave like that.”

Your fingers twitched. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

You took in a sharp breath, sucking the rain-soaked air down into your lungs. He didn’t even sound like he cared — which pissed you off more than anything else. But you didn’t say that. You just let the silence stretch.

Matt stepped out into the rain, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was quiet for a few seconds before he spoke again, closer now. “Thought I broke you, but damn… you’re still standing.”

“Stop,” you muttered, your back to him. “Just… stop. I don’t need your jokes right now.”

“You don’t?” He laughed, but it was low — like he could hear the cracks in your voice. “Funny. Because you liked me joking earlier.”

The words were too much. You turned around, eyes narrowed, throat tight. “That wasn’t a joke, Matt. That was you being a creep.”

His expression didn’t change. His smirk slipped, replaced with that familiar look of quiet understanding. “You’re right,” he said, voice dropping a little deeper. “But I was being serious, too.”

“Seriously what?” you shot back, fists clenched at your sides. “That you wanted to fuck me?”

He shrugged, slow and deliberate. “Yeah. You think I didn’t want it?”

“Don’t talk like that,” you snapped, your heart pounding. You hadn’t felt this conflicted in forever. Your body was still humming from the aftermath, but your mind was too tangled.

He was smirking again. “Like what? Real? Because I’ve been real with you from the start.”

The rain had soaked through his hoodie. But the way his eyes stayed locked on yours? It was like everything else didn’t matter.

He stepped closer, his presence too close, invading that space you usually kept for yourself. His hand brushed your arm, just barely, but it was enough to make you tense.

“What’s so bad about me being honest?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing. “I like you. You liked what happened. But you’re acting like you want to run now. What’s that about?”

You didn’t have a good answer.

“Answer me,” he pressed, stepping forward just enough that you had nowhere to go but back. “I can see it. You’re into me, right?”

Your heart skipped.

“I—” You bit down on your lip, trying to hold it together. But you weren’t getting anywhere. Not with him looking at you like that.

He smirked again, his hand landing on your wrist this time, holding you there as if he was claiming some part of you — just like everything else.

“You want to run away? Fine. But you’re not going to, are you?”

You couldn’t speak.

He took a step back, but only to breathe you in. “You want me again. I’m sure of it.”

Before you could process, his lips were on your neck — hot, desperate, and enough to make your breath catch. He didn’t care about how awkward this was or about the rain splattering against your skin. All he cared about was you.

“I told you. You can’t just show up like that — in those skirts and with that look — and expect me not to want to tear you apart,” he murmured, lips dragging up the side of your neck. “Now, you’re stuck with me.”

You pulled away from him, trying to breathe normally, but your body was betraying you. The moment you did, he grabbed your wrist and spun you right back into him.

“Relax,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “I won’t bite.”

But you were already on edge, too aware of how badly you wanted to be touched.

This time, you didn’t try to stop it. Your body was already responding, aching, heated, and so damn frustrated.

“You’re not funny,” you muttered, but it was weak — you knew it was weak. You were already giving in.

Matt’s grin was back in full force. “Yeah, I am,” he whispered. “You like me this way, don’t you?”

You couldn’t answer.

But you didn’t need to.

You barely remembered how you ended up outside in the rain. One minute you were stumbling around the back of the store, fighting with your jacket, and the next, you were standing under the awning, blinking hard to focus.

You should’ve gone home. You should’ve done anything but stand there, breathing the cold air and trying not to let the panic set in.

But you were thinking about him. About that.

And how much he’d messed with your head.

The front door to the store creaked open behind you. You didn’t turn. You didn’t want to turn. But you could feel him before he spoke.

“You can’t leave like that.”

Your fingers twitched. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

You took in a sharp breath, sucking the rain-soaked air down into your lungs. He didn’t even sound like he cared — which pissed you off more than anything else. But you didn’t say that. You just let the silence stretch.

Matt stepped out into the rain, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was quiet for a few seconds before he spoke again, closer now. “Thought I broke you, but damn… you’re still standing.”

“Stop,” you muttered, your back to him. “Just… stop. I don’t need your jokes right now.”

“You don’t?” He laughed, but it was low — like he could hear the cracks in your voice. “Funny. Because you liked me joking earlier.”

The words were too much. You turned around, eyes narrowed, throat tight. “That wasn’t a joke, Matt. That was you being a creep.”

His expression didn’t change. His smirk slipped, replaced with that familiar look of quiet understanding. “You’re right,” he said, voice dropping a little deeper. “But I was being serious, too.”

“Seriously what?” you shot back, fists clenched at your sides. “That you wanted to fuck me?”

He shrugged, slow and deliberate. “Yeah. You think I didn’t want it?”

“Don’t talk like that,” you snapped, your heart pounding. You hadn’t felt this conflicted in forever. Your body was still humming from the aftermath, but your mind was too tangled.

He was smirking again. “Like what? Real? Because I’ve been real with you from the start.”

The rain had soaked through his hoodie. But the way his eyes stayed locked on yours? It was like everything else didn’t matter.

He stepped closer, his presence too close, invading that space you usually kept for yourself. His hand brushed your arm, just barely, but it was enough to make you tense.

“What’s so bad about me being honest?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing. “I like you. You liked what happened. But you’re acting like you want to run now. What’s that about?”

You didn’t have a good answer.

“Answer me,” he pressed, stepping forward just enough that you had nowhere to go but back. “I can see it. You’re into me, right?”

Your heart skipped.

“I—” You bit down on your lip, trying to hold it together. But you weren’t getting anywhere. Not with him looking at you like that.

He smirked again, his hand landing on your wrist this time, holding you there as if he was claiming some part of you — just like everything else.

“You want to run away? Fine. But you’re not going to, are you?”

You couldn’t speak.

He took a step back, but only to breathe you in. “You want me again. I’m sure of it.”

Before you could process, his lips were on your neck — hot, desperate, and enough to make your breath catch. He didn’t care about how awkward this was or about the rain splattering against your skin. All he cared about was you.

“I told you. You can’t just show up like that — in those skirts and with that look — and expect me not to want to tear you apart,” he murmured, lips dragging up the side of your neck. “Now, you’re stuck with me.”

You pulled away from him, trying to breathe normally, but your body was betraying you. The moment you did, he grabbed your wrist and spun you right back into him.

“Relax,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “I won’t bite.”

But you were already on edge, too aware of how badly you wanted to be touched.

This time, you didn’t try to stop it. Your body was already responding, aching, heated, and so damn frustrated.

“You’re not funny,” you muttered, but it was weak — you knew it was weak. You were already giving in.

Matt’s grin was back in full force. “Yeah, I am,” he whispered. “You like me this way, don’t you?”

You couldn’t answer.

But you didn’t need to.

The thrift store’s air conditioning was broken again.

You could feel it the second you stepped inside — that warm, trapped heat clinging to every rack of dusty denim and 90s tees. But you didn’t care. You adjusted your headphones, iced coffee in one hand, and started flipping through skirts like it was just another Sunday.

And it was.

At least, for you.

Matt watched you from behind the counter, chewing on the inside of his cheek, pretending he wasn’t thinking about you in ways that would get him fired twice over.

You had on this long denim skirt — high-waisted, frayed hem, cinched just right — and a cropped baby tee that read HEAVEN SENT in rhinestones.

Yeah. That was insane.

You didn’t look at him once. Not a glance.

You just popped your gum, turned up your music, and kept shopping. Calm. Cool. Like nothing had ever shifted between you two.

Meanwhile, Matt was barely breathing.

He watched you try things on over your clothes — an oversized jacket here, a cropped sweater there. You smiled at your reflection once, and he swore his knees buckled.

He waited. Waited for you to say something. Do something. Look at him.

But you didn’t.

You were halfway to the fitting rooms when he finally said your name.

Soft. Careful.

You paused — headphones still in, brows lifted like hm?

He motioned you closer. “Tag’s stuck. Let me fix it.”

You walked over, confused. “On what?”

He didn’t answer. Just reached behind you and tugged the tag from the back of your skirt. Except… there was no tag.

You raised a brow. “Wow. Real smooth.”

Matt smirked, but his hands stayed on your waist.

“I’m not tryna be smooth,” he said. “Just tryna remind you I exist.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re loud. It’s hard to forget.”

He stepped closer. Way too close. “Loud? Me?”

“You’re literally standing on top of me.”

“You’re not moving.”

You didn’t. You wouldn’t.

He leaned in, voice low. “You’re pretending you don’t remember, but you do.”

You blinked slowly. “I’m pretending you’re normal.”

Matt grinned. “Bad move.”

And then it happened — sudden, rough, messy. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the back, into that dusty employee hallway that smelled like old patchouli and cardboard. Before you could speak, he had you against the wall.

“Say stop,” he muttered, eyes dark, voice low and steady. “Say stop and I’ll let go.”

You didn’t.

He smirked. “Didn’t think so.”

Then his hands were everywhere — gripping your thighs, yanking your skirt up, pushing your legs apart like he’d been waiting all week to wreck you again.

“You wear this little skirt in here and act like it’s nothing,” he muttered, pressing his mouth to your neck. “But you wanted me to do this, huh?”

You bit your lip hard, head tilting back, but he caught your jaw.

“Don’t hide,” he growled. “Look at me when I fuck you.”

You gasped — and he took full advantage of it, dragging your panties down and lifting one leg over his hip.

His jeans were already half undone. You didn’t know when, didn’t care.

He didn’t waste time. Just thrusted into you — fast, deep, like he’d been counting down the seconds to it.

You cried out, fingers digging into his hoodie.

He laughed. “Too much already?”

You nodded. But it wasn’t a real no. Not even close.

He sped up.

Your back hit the wall. Again. Again. Again. Rough. Fast. Dirty.

“You tryna act like a little angel,” he panted against your mouth, “but I know what you need.”

His grip tightened on your thigh. The hand that wasn’t holding you up slipped under your shirt, groping rougher than last time — like he needed all of you right now.

“I think about this every Sunday,” he whispered, dragging his teeth along your jaw. “I dream about this shit.”

You gasped again, body trembling — and he loved it.

“Gonna cum like this?” he teased. “Like a good little problem?”

You almost screamed.

And he didn’t stop. Not until your legs shook. Not until you went quiet.

Then — and only then — did he pull back.

Panting. Smirking. Ruined.

You looked up at him, dazed.

He tapped your chin with two fingers.

“See you next Sunday.”

You walk into the thrift store like always — headphones on, iced coffee in hand, cute outfit that you definitely picked just to mess with him.

Matt’s already waiting at the counter. Arms crossed. Hoodie pushed halfway up his sleeves like he’s been pacing. The second he sees you, he points at the back.

“No games today,” he says. “We’re talking.”

You raise a brow. “Talking?”

He nods. “In the back. Right now.”

You sip your drink. “You’re weird.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, well. You ruined my brain. Congratulations.”

You follow him anyway, because of course you do. You love watching him try and fail to act like he’s not on the verge of folding every time you touch him.

He closes the door behind you and turns around fast.

“Alright,” he says, “I’m running this now. You’re done. You had your little chokehold moment last week, and I’m over it.”

You blink. “Oh?”

He nods. “Yup. Starting now, I’m the one calling the shots. I’m the one doing damage. You’re gonna be the one shaking.” You just stare at him for a second. Then you take one step forward, grab his face in both hands, and kiss him hard. Like hard. And that’s it.

He whimpers.

Whimpers. Then melts like a folding chair. You pull back, smug. “Say that again?”

He blinks, dazed. “…Say what?”

“Exactly.” He groans. “Okay—damn. Hold on.” You laugh, but he pulls you into him and buries his face in your neck. “No, I’m serious,” he mumbles into your skin. “I had a whole monologue planned. I was gonna be mean. Maybe even ignore you for five minutes.” You smile. “Tragic.” He pulls back slightly, gives you this mock-serious look, and deadpans: “I should’ve made you beg. Or brought up butt stuff. Something to throw you off.” You snort. “Butt stuff?”He grins. “You wouldn’t survive. You’d combust.” You smack his chest, still laughing, but he catches your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles like a complete simp. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you say. He hums. “I am. And you’re dangerous. I think about you all the time. I literally rearranged the employee schedule just to make sure I see you every Sunday.” You pause. “You changed the schedule?” He shrugs. “Yeah. So what?” You squint. “Matt.” “Don’t act surprised. You know what you do to me.”You kiss him again, slower this time — deep, lazy, a little messy — and when you pull away, his eyes are soft. Like too soft.

“You still running this?” you whisper.

He shakes his head immediately. “Not even a little bit.” You walk into the thrift store, expecting the usual—Matt, his hoodie, maybe some sarcastic comment about your outfit. What you don’t expect is the girl standing at the counter, leaning over it way too casually, laughing at something Matt said. That’s not normal. You stop in your tracks, watching the exchange. It’s not the first time someone’s flirted with Matt, but there’s something about this girl’s tone—too soft, too familiar. She’s close to him. Too close. The way she touches his arm when she laughs? You don’t like it. Not one bit. Matt catches sight of you standing there, and for a second, the air feels thick with something you can’t quite name. You cross your arms over your chest and wait. You’re not going to be the one to interrupt. But when she slides a hand across the counter toward him, you definitely notice. She’s playing all the moves—laughing at his jokes, touching his shoulder like she’s claiming territory. It makes your stomach twist. You don’t even realize you’re walking toward them until Matt looks up, his face going slightly pale when he sees you, and that’s when the girl finally notices you too. “Oh, hey!” she says, eyes bright, as if you two are friends. “You’re the fashion student, right? You’ve got some great taste—Matt was just saying how much he loves what you do.” You nod coolly, your gaze never leaving Matt’s.

“Is that right?” you ask, voice even. Matt clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. “Uh, yeah. Y/N, this is… Sarah. She’s just—” Sarah interrupts, cutting him off, grinning way too wide. “Yeah, Matt was just telling me how cute you are. He said you two are pretty close. I think that’s sweet.” You swallow the wave of irritation, trying to keep your cool. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck. “Cute,” you repeat, your voice low. “I didn’t realize we were that close.” You turn, heading to the back of the store, but you hear Matt stumble behind you. “Y/N, wait—” he calls, his voice tense. You turn to face him. “I’ll be in the back.” When the door clicks shut behind you, you finally let yourself breathe, your frustration turning into something sharper. Matt follows you, his steps hurried. When he gets inside, he closes the door behind him, his expression apologetic. “Look,” he starts, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t— I didn’t realize it was bothering you.” You don’t look at him. You know if you do, you’ll crack. “It didn’t bother me,” you lie. “Just… never mind. She can flirt with you all she wants. Whatever.” “Y/N,” he says, his tone more serious now. “It’s not like that. You know I—” cut him off. “I know what? You were just laughing with her, Matt. It’s like you didn’t even care. Like I’m just… what? The Sunday girl who buys stuff and leaves?” Matt’s face falls. “No. You’re not just that. You’re not just ‘the Sunday girl.’ You’re—” He takes a step toward you, voice almost a whisper. “You’re the one who gets me. Who actually knows who I am.” You look up, meeting his eyes. “Then why’d you let her think…. Think you were interested?” “I wasn’t. I promise you, I wasn’t. You don’t have to worry about her, okay?” He steps closer, taking your hand carefully. “I just… I don’t know what I was thinking.” You snort, letting out a breath. “That’s the problem. You don’t know.” There’s a beat of silence between you before he pulls you close to him, hands on your waist. You don’t pull away. Not yet. He looks down at you, his voice rough. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I let that happen. You’re the one I want. You’re the one I always want.” You feel your heartbeat speed up, but you’re not ready to let him off the hook just yet. “Prove it,” you say quietly. He smirks. “How?” You tilt your head up, your voice low and teasing. “I want you to apologize. And I want it to be real. No more messing around. You. Me. And you’re going to show me how much you care.” Matt’s eyes darken. “You’re really gonna make me work for it?” You nod, your lips curving. “Absolutely.” A couple of minutes later…

The tension is unbearable. You’ve barely spoken since you walked into the back room, but now, Matt is all over you. He’s kissing you, pulling you against him, and you can feel the difference — his urgency, his need to make up for what he almost didn’t realize.

When he pushes you back against the wall, you finally let him take control. His hands move faster now, more deliberate, desperate to show you that he’s sorry, that he’s yours.

And when he pulls back to look at you, his lips swollen, his eyes dark, it’s clear he’s ready to prove it.

You don’t even have to say a word.

You kiss him again, slow this time, showing him what forgiveness feels like — messy, hot, but full of that need to feel connected, to not let anything come between you.

You were just trying to be funny. That’s what you keep telling yourself, anyway. There was this old man at the front counter earlier, one of those regulars who always tries to flirt with the young girls while buying 99-cent mystery books and yellowed paperbacks. You were behind the counter with Matt when it happened — when the man winked at you, asked if you were “single like this dollar bill,” and you, caught in the moment, laughed a little too hard. But it wasn’t just the laugh. It was the way you leaned into it. The way you grabbed the old man’s receipt, looked at Matt dead in the face, and said, “Looks like I have options now.” You thought it was dumb and harmless. Matt didn’t. Now the store’s half-closed, the racks are pushed back, and he’s slamming the drawer shut harder than necessary. You’re standing by the front window, fiddling with the beaded necklace you were gonna buy. The silence feels heavy. “…You good?” you finally ask, casual. But your tone is shaky. Matt turns around, jaw tense. “You think that was funny?” You blink. “What?” “That old dude. That little… performance.” His voice is sharp now. “You think I wanna sit here and watch you flirt with some creepy ass sixty-year-old? While I’m standing right next to you?” You stare. “Matt, it was a joke—” He cuts you off. “No it wasn’t. You leaned into that shit like you were tryna prove something.” You scoff, nerves twisting up now. “Are you serious? You know I wasn’t actually flirting with him”. He shakes his head taking a step closer. NOTE : NEEDED TO MAKE A PART 2💔

[cupidszluvs]

Chris sturniolo. “ranking hugs?”

Dividers! @bernardsbendystraws

Fluff, pet names (baby, mama ect) black! Reader.

Summary: Chris Sturniolo and his girlfriend take on the viral TikTok trend where she demonstrates different types of hugs she’d give to a guy— other than him.

The video starts with you standing in front of the camera, phone in hand, while Chris sits beside you with his arms crossed, already looking salty.

"Alright, baby, we’re doing the ‘Ranking Hugs I Give to a Guy That’s not him, trend!" you announce with a cheeky grin. Chris scoffs, "Yeah, nah, I don’t like this already." You laugh and ignore him, getting into the first hug demonstration.

1️⃣ The Side Hug

You do a casual one-arm side hug in the air, imitating how you’d hug another guy.

Chris immediately shakes his head. "Nah, I don’t even like that. 0/10. Why you touching other dudes?" You roll your eyes. "Boy, calm down."

---

2️⃣ The Church Hug

You clasp your hands together and lean forward slightly, pretending to give a formal, barely-there hug. Chris nods approvingly. "Mmm, this one solid. Respectfully distant. 9/10, mama." You raise a brow. "So why not 10?"

"‘Cause I don’t even want you near another guy."

3️⃣ The Bro Hug

You do the handshake-into-a-side-pat move guys do, looking at Chris expectantly. He squints. "This… I can live with. 6/10." "Why so low?" "Cause your hand still on him for too long."

---

4️⃣ The Full Hug

You pretend to wrap your arms around someone fully for a proper hug, swaying a little for extra dramatics. Chris immediately jumps up. "Oh HELL no, babe." He fake grabs your waist. "What is THIS?!" You’re dying laughing. "It’s just a hug!"

Chris shakes his head aggressively. "Ain’t no ‘just a hug,’ mama. -1000/10. Don’t play with me."

---

5️⃣ The Quick Tap Hug

You demonstrate a brief hug with a fast double pat on the back before pulling away. Chris sighs in relief. "See, this is what I like. Real quick. 15/10." You smirk. "So I can hug guys like this?"

Chris stares at you. "Just don’t push it, babe."

Hope you enjoyed it babes!

[tastesousweet]

Can we get a toxic!babydaddy Matt fic like I’m craving something about my man like it’s been days and I haven’t eaten

⭒ blurb : toxic!bd matt who . . .

toxic!babydaddy matt x poc!reader

warnings: toxic relationship, dad!matt (i understand if u don’t fw it), idk what else :P

mickey speaks: this is kinda different for me so ty for the req!! ik this is just a little headcannon set but i hope you luv this anon 💐

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . brings some girl he’s been “hanging out with” to your daughter’s third birthday party just to piss you off

he’d then get mad when you ignore him and his “friend” the entire party…

he’d come up to you as you watch your daughter play on the decorated playground from afar, “the fuck you bein’ petty for, y/n? i thought we were cool with seeing other people?”

“well i just think it’s rude, you didn’t tell me you were bringing anyone else. i don’t care who she is or what you two do it’s annoying from a planning perspective.”

“that’s my bad… you look good though,” he’d glance around for a second before coming behind you and hooking his arm on your neck.

he’d whisper in your ear while you both stare out at your lively daughter, “can’t believe she’s so big now… lookin’ just like her pretty mama.”

you’d roll your eyes and shoulder matt off of you, “matt, go fuck on the bitch you brought here. and stop saying shit like that to me.”

“jesus- watch your language there’s kids everywhere, y/n.”

you blankly stare at him and his cocky smirk that just aggravates you to pieces, “go awayyy, matt.” you whine out and pinch your eyes with a sigh.

and he laughs because everything’s a fucking joke to him.

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . your friends hate but you will always have a soft spot for, he is your daughter’s father after all

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . sends hundreds of roses to your doorstep for mother’s day

when you text him a picture of the ridiculous bouquets with a “????” he immediately facetimes you, “for the best mama in the whole world. you like ‘em?”

you shake your head and hide a smirk beneath your hand to scold him, “you do too much, matt.”

“uh huh i knew you’d say that…” he’d then ask to see his favorite girl, “now where’s my baby at?”

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . can’t mind his business to save his life. he’s always asking you questions about your personal life; and you always shut him down

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . can sometimes be a little too desirable when he drops your daughter off at your place (dressed nicely, smelling good, eyes bright yet droopingly eye-fucking you, etc), leading you to invite him in for a glass of wine or two

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . you sometimes find in your bed again when you feel particularly lonely and nostalgic

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . loves the few times he gets to to wake up to his daughter pulling on his hand and you by his side, fast asleep

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . tends to start arguments from the smallest things to get you to talk to him longer than you need to

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . will always put effort into being a great father (which you respect) despite never putting that same effort into your relationship

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . makes sure you’ll never forget he loved you first and is connected to you far deeper than any other man ever could be

[lilolebambi]

ALL FALLS DOWN by kanye west. c.s.

chris x black!reader !! <3

Your back hurts like hell, fingers greasy from the product in your hair, itchy stray hairs resting on your crossed legs as you sit in front of the mirror.

You're annoyed, but technically, this is your fault. Your cousin offered to take down your hair for you—But you just didn't feel like driving. Now, here you are, the day before your appointment, desperately attempting to take down your hair.

You huff. You haven't moved from this spot in hours, and you're running out of movies to watch on your iPad. Someone remind you never to get mircobraids again.

You're almost halfway done, which is amazing because you promised yourself a break when you got to the halfway mark.

"Your hair." You turn around, not hearing Chris enter the room due to you hyperfocused on the braid in your hands. "I told you I was taking it down."

"That was 5 hours ago," He says, getting closer to your little setup. "Holy shit, they're tiny." You giggle as you feel him run his hands through your braids, "This is what you were doin'?" He points to the piles of hair around you.

You nod. "Thought I was ignoring you?" He shrugs, "Kinda." You laugh, finally slipping the braid out that leads your precious break. "M' gonna take a break."

"....you want help?"

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"I don't think I'm doin' this right," Chris mumbles, rattle comb in hand. You can see him behind you in the mirror, eyebrows furrowed together as he picks at the tiny plait. "It's gonna come out." He glances at you in the mirror, "But this one isn't—"

"It's gonna come out." He combs out the braid a bit more, watching it unravel as it finally slips out. "See?"

"Whatever." A smile finds its way onto your lips. You don't mind that every time you attempt to touch a braid, Chris swats your hand away, giving your fingers a much needed break from how they were cramping earlier.

You're content. You have 2 more rows of braids left. You run your hands through your product filled hair, "Wanna help me wash it?"

"Nuh uh."

"Chris—

"You do all those.... fancy hair masks, n' shit.. not gonna mess up and be responsible for destroying your hair." You jut your lip out. "I'll show you how you do it, please?

You watch his eyebrow raise in the mirror. "Please?"

"....Fine."

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @whore4mattsturniolo @domizmez @sosasturns @drewswife @strnilolover @oopsiedaisydeer @t0riiiis @courta13 @luckysouls @mattslilies @sturns-mermaid @bluetalia @pair-of-pantaloons @y2kstarr @mattswifeyy @mattsleftball

a/n: I DO NOT FW WITH THIS. BYE.

[chrxsprettygirl]

Smash.

[kinascum]

CHARMED ᯓ★

Austin Butler x Reader

wc: 1.7k | summary: y/n, an interviewer at Variety, scores an interview with Austin Butler. | nav - taglist

FLUFF. no major warnings.

You sit in the quiet of the Variety office, surrounded by the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clack of a keyboard echoing through the open-plan space. Your heart beats a little faster than usual today as you prepare for the interview of a lifetime. The email with the subject line "Austin Butler Interview: Confirmed" still sits open on your screen, a stark reminder of the excitement and nerves you've been juggling since you read it. You've done this before, of course, but something about Austin feels different. Maybe it's the way his blue eyes seem to look right into your soul in every magazine cover, or the way his deep voice sends a shiver down your spine when you watch his interviews. You're a journalist with a knack for making even the most guarded celebrities open up, but you're not immune to the charm of Hollywood's golden boys.

The clock ticks closer to the scheduled time, and you stand, smoothing out the wrinkles in your blouse and taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. You've spent hours researching his career, from his early days on the small screen to his breakthrough performance as the king of rock 'n' roll. You've rehearsed your questions, honed them to perfection, and now all that's left is to wait for the moment when he walks through the door.

When he does, it's like the air in the room shifts. He's taller than you expected, with a presence that seems to fill the space around him. He's dressed casually, but it looks like he stepped out of a magazine spread, his jeans fitting just right, and a leather jacket thrown over a simple white tee. His eyes scan the room, and when they land on you, you feel a jolt of energy. He smiles, a genuine, warm smile that reaches his eyes, and you can't help but return it, feeling a little bit like you're melting.

You extend a hand, and he takes it, his grip firm but gentle. His skin is warm, and for a second, you're lost in the sensation of his touch. "Y/N," he says, as if he's known you for years, not minutes. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." His voice is like a caress, and you blush, hoping it's not too obvious. You've always been a little shy around the people you admire, and the fact that he's looking at you with such kindness isn't helping your nerves.

As you lead him to the interview set, you notice the way his boots scuff the floor, the quiet confidence in his stride. He seems to be at ease in his own skin, a stark contrast to the flurry of activity around you. You offer him a seat and take yours opposite, placing your notebook and pen on the table. You've done this a hundred times before, but today, your hand trembles ever so slightly. You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a nervous habit you thought you'd outgrown, and try to remember to breathe. The cameras start to roll, and you're aware of every little detail: the sound of the film crew moving around, the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the background, the way the lights cast a gentle glow on Austin's face.

He leans back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. "So," he begins, his voice like a purr. "What's the first question you've been dying to ask me?"

You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat. You clear it, hoping he doesn't notice, and glance down at your notes. But as you look back up, you realize that the question you've so carefully prepared isn't what you want to ask anymore. There's something about the way he's looking at you, something that makes you feel seen in a way you never have before. And in that moment, you know that this interview is going to be unlike any other.

You take a deep breath and dive in, asking him about his preparation for his latest role, one that's earned him critical acclaim and a slew of award nominations. His eyes light up, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head as he thinks back to those intense days and nights spent becoming someone else. He speaks slowly, thoughtfully, his voice deep and resonant as he recounts the hours of research, the months of practice, the moments of doubt and triumph. You're captivated by his dedication, his passion for his craft shining through every word.

As you listen, you find yourself leaning in, hanging on to every syllable. His words paint a vivid picture of his journey, and you're drawn into the story as if you were there with him. You ask follow-up questions, eager to learn more, and he responds with the same thoughtfulness, never rushing, always choosing his words with care. His honesty is refreshing, and you can't help but admire the way he's handled the pressures of stardom with such grace.

But then his gaze starts lingering on you a beat too long, and when he smiles, it's a smile that says he's not just talking about the movie anymore, and suddenly, the air in the room feels charged with electricity. You blush, your cheeks grow warm, and you feel your heart race in your chest. Your hand fidgets with the pen, and you realize you're playing with your hair again, a nervous habit you thought you'd left behind in high school. But with Austin, you're feeling anything but professional.

He leans closer, his eyes never leaving yours, and asks you a question about your own work, your favorite stories, your dreams. And you find yourself opening up to him, sharing things you never thought you'd say out loud, let alone on camera. His voice is a gentle coax, drawing you out of your shell, making you feel as if you're the most interesting person in the world. And maybe, just maybe, you start to believe it.

The conversation flows like a river, twisting and turning through topics of art, life, and love. His stories are peppered with laughter, and you find yourself smiling more than you ever have in an interview. His hand reaches out, resting on the arm of your chair, and you feel the warmth of his touch seep through the fabric as he pulls your chair closer to his. It's a simple gesture, but it sends a jolt through your body, making you aware of every inch of space between you as you catch a glimpse of how his muscles flex under the studio lights.

You notice the way his fingers tap against the chair, a subtle beat that matches the rhythm of your heart. His eyes, so blue and deep, seem to see right through you, and for a moment, you wonder if he can read your thoughts. You realize you're not just asking questions anymore; you're exchanging glances, sharing silent moments filled with understanding. The chemistry between you is palpable, and the crew seems to have melted into the background, leaving just the two of you in the spotlight.

The interview comes to a close, but the energy between you and Austin doesn't dissipate. As the crew starts to pack up, he lingers, his hand still resting on the arm of your chair. "Thank you," he says, his voice sincere. "That was one of the best interviews I've had in a long time." You blush, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was an honor."

He stands, and you follow suit, the space between you closing as you exchange pleasantries about the weather and the traffic. His eyes never leave yours, and you can't help but feel like there's something unspoken hanging in the air. He's charismatic, down-to-earth, and thoughtful—everything you've read about him, but seeing it up close is like experiencing the gravity of a star for the first time. His words come out measured and deliberate, each one chosen with care, as if he's afraid of saying too much or too little.

As you walk him out, the quiet of the office seems to amplify the sound of your shoes on the floor. The lights seem to dim, and the world outside the glass walls fades away. You find yourself lost in the depth of his gaze, the way his eyes seem to dance when he smiles. He pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob, and looks at you with an intensity that makes your knees wobble. "Y/N," he says, and the way he says your name feels like a secret shared between the two of you. "Could I interest you in a drink? To celebrate a successful interview?" His words are followed by a cheeky grin as he addresses you in an overly formal manner.

You're surprised by the invitation, but something in his tone tells you that it's more than just a professional courtesy. You hesitate, your heart racing as you laugh nervously. You've never mixed business with pleasure before, but the way he's looking at you, the way his thumb brushes against the back of your hand as he holds the door open, makes you want to throw caution to the wind. You nod, trying to sound casual. "Sure, I'd love that."

The bar he chooses is dimly lit, the kind of place where whispers are the loudest sounds and secrets feel safe. He orders a whiskey neat, and you ask for a glass of wine. As you sit across from him, you can't help but notice the way the light plays with the shadows on his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. He talks about his love for music, the way it's shaped him as a person and an actor, and you listen, enraptured. His passion is contagious, and you find yourself sharing stories from your own life, things you rarely speak of outside of your closest friends.

The conversation flows as easily as the alcohol, and you realize that you're not just talking about work anymore. You're laughing, sharing, connecting in a way you never have with an interview subject. His hand reaches across the table, and he takes yours, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin. It's a simple touch, but it feels like a promise, a question, a door opening to something new.

A/N: kinda in a love-hate relationship with this one yall

tell me if yall want to be added to this masterlist's taglist !!🩶🩶🦫

[dreaamdiary]

ꗃ ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 ✦ CHRIS X READER CHRIS CONVINCES YOU TO GO ON TOUR (NSFW)

chris had you ass up face down in the mattress, pumping his third load out on your glistening cunt, letting out heavy breathes.

“haah…f-fuck, don’t know what i’m gonna do without you sweetheart.” he’s still jerking his dick, squeezing the last of his nut while nearly out of breath, panting through his words and firmly holding the arch in your back with his free hand.

“i don’t wanna leave you”

the original plan was to help chris pack while nick and matt were out dealing with last minute things but the energy quickly shifted after he heard the engine start, he was all over you, lips glued to yours and clothes flying in every direction.

he made sure to spend every second of everyday with you up until he left for tour, giving his all to you each time like it was his last because that’s what it felt like. his excuse every time being he’s making up for a month apart, leading you to cave and quickly because you knew you’d miss him too.

your body is unbelievably tired, vibrating from overstimulation, leaking hot cum from both you and chris while you struggle to catch your breath, but toughing it out for him, “m-mhm..i’m gonna miss you s-so much.”

“y’know you don’t have to baby, just come with me,” he glides his thumb between your folds, painted white and on display for him; really taking the time to drink in every inch of your body, burning it into his memory for harder times as if it wasn’t already.

“chris i have school—“

“it can work, y’just gotta try,” chris whined in dissatisfaction that you weren’t breaking. his fingers were now knuckles deep in your hole, thrusting slow and in complete awe.

you couldn’t even react, eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth wide open but nothing coming out, just shaking in place, letting him use you.

whining at the loss of his fingers, you suddenly receive a smack to your cunt, making your whole body jolt.

“turn around, need to see that pretty face,” you were swept off your knees before you can even process it. he’d been tossing you around all night with effortless strength, switching from one position to the another.

chris grinned when he was met with your fucked out expression. your lips were pink and swollen, tears stained on your cheeks, curls frizzy and all over your head. you were a mess and he wasn’t even done with you yet, “y’look so pretty like this.”

you smiled back lazily and rubbed the stubble on his jaw, also looking very fucked out with his eyes low and dark, hairs clung to his forehead, and face gone red. “love when you say shit like that.”

his mouth found your neck again, messy and hungry. he smiled against your skin as you let out breathy moans, kissing lower, then biting down just enough to hear your little squeal.

“i know baby..go ahead and lay down f’me.”

chris adjusts you to the perfect angle, laying you down on your side, him between your legs and carefully lining you up with his dick. his veiny hands go from tracing the curve of your waist and ass to messaging your breast.

he watched you squirm on the bed, his lip tucked between his teeth as his thumb and index rolled your sensitive buds. you clench around nothing, hoping and praying that he would shove it in. “chris please”

“please? y’gettin needy now…” his arm swings back to smack you ass, little harder then you were expecting, not hard enough to disassociate pain and pleasure. “all that and ya still begging for more, imagine that feeling when i’m not around?”

“need you s’bad, please,” you whine and bucked your hips, feeling the tip of his dick graze your clit.

chris smirked, pressing a single kiss to your inner thigh and slowly beginning to fuck you side ways.

your moaning out uncontrollably, back arching into his chest, each thrust being better than the last while chris hits places you don’t think he ever has.

“sh-shit mama, of course your this fuckin’ tight f’me before i go.” he leaves three smacks on your ass before his arms fall to the sides of your head, stabling himself self as his deep stokes pick up.

loud cries are echoing off the walls of his room, the bed creaks at a fast rate, and the headboard slams against the wall, chris already knowing their neighbors fucking despise him.

he continued to slam into you at a relentless pace, grunts and groans slipping past his swollen lips at the sight of this cock disappearing in your sopping pussy and bulging in your lower abdomen. “y’feel me, so deep in this pretty pussy?”

he presses down on your stomach, causing you the throw your head back, your hand grabs his wrist next to your head as you feel the pooling fire in your gut. “mmmh—feels so fuckin good, ughh chris..m’cumming, m’cumming.”

your mind went hazy as you creamed all over chris’ dick, stuttering screams of his name at the top of your lungs, him still working deep, hard strokes into you, showing no mercy while your leaking all over him and the bed, “mhm just like that baby…holy shit.”

your palm flattened against his chest, attempting to tap out and push him away, “uugh..i can’t, it’s too much—“

he didn’t stop.

didn’t even slow down.

“no, don’ tell me that, s’okay pretty girl, keep goin f’me—fuuck… kn-know you can.”

“no chris…i-i can’t take anymore”

it’s like battle of back and forth, chris pushing your hand off his chest, you moving it right back, you still weren’t looking at him and his brothers would be back any minute now. it was only a matter of time before he was fed up and really gave you something to cry about. “stop fuckin moving, shit— look at me baby.”

he got no response you were too caught up in your whirl of cries to even notice he said anything, only making him angrier. pulling out, he quickly shoves your hand one last time before picking your body up and moving you on your back, connecting his chest with yours, leaving no space for you to push him away. chris grabs your head and brings it to his and rams back into you.

his stamina was fucking unbelievable, he fucked you through the thick, sticky air, fucked you through four orgasms and still hunched like a rabbit in heat.

you gasped and moaned in each other’s faces as chris ruts into you ten times harder with his eyes locked on yours, seeing every bit of lust and passion.

chris groans, “n-nah…f-fuck all that, y’coming with me i don’t care, mama”

you could see the veins in his neck straining as he tried to state a coherent sentence, meanwhile your fucked dumb, brain turned into mush.

“m’making myself clear, yeah?”

you mumble something, not even sure what it was. chris grabs your throat, making your eyes roll.

“do you understand me?” his pelvis is pounding forward in rapid, punishing thrust. your whole body shakes and nails claw at his back only being able to make out one word.

“yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, ughh” your words slurred together and back arched deeply as you felt cum leaking down your body and onto the mattress.

chris’ muscles tense up and he buried his face in your neck, bottoming out, breath hitching as he finally lets go, releasing a gut ranching groan and gripping you like he was falling apart while he planted his seed inside.

he pulls out, you both whimpering and whining too sensitive to any touch. chris collapses beside you, uneven breaths, your chest rising and falling in unison, and neither of you saying a word. he holds you close and connects your foreheads before brushing your hair out your face.

“so you’ll come right?” his voice was raspy and soft just above a whisper.

you sigh, “guess i am.”

a smiled crept on his lips and he kissed all over your face, not caring that your cheeks were a little salty from all that crying you were doing. “my fuckin girl, i love you s’much, i’ll pack right now”

chris sits up from the bed, energized with excitement, pulling you up to do the same like he didn’t just completely wreck your shit.

“no, give me a sec chris,”

𓂃⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ 𝒯𝒜𝒢𝐿𝐼𝒮𝒯 𓂅 𝑀𝒜𝒮𝒯𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝒮𝒯 𓂅

© divadown 2025

[sunrisemill]

BOOMSHAKALAKA

YES GOD 😫 YES GOD 😫😫

[amsznn]

Please I’m begging u could you write Chris x reader when reader gets wisdom teeth out. Pet names only baby

WISDOM TEETH - c.sturniolo

-

“todays video is gonna be a bit different guys.” chris spoke into the camera before turning it to you, revealing you leaning on the kitchen counter. “y/n’s gonna get her wisdom teeth out!” your head quickly shifted towards the mention of ‘wisdom teeth’, unfortunately being reminded of what will be your reality in a matter of moments.

“chris stop, she’s literally fearing for her life right now.” nick said while laughing. “don’t worry y/n, its not that bad.” he said while patting your shoulder.

“i dont think i wanna go anymore.” you said quickly as you remembered how much pain nick was in while he was recovering.

“it’s gonna be alright baby, we’ll be right there.” chris reassures as he wrapped his shoulder around you, still holding the camera.

it took some convincing, and maybe some bribery from your boyfriend to get you food after the procedure, to finally convince you to get in the car and go through with getting your teeth pulled out. you had been in pain for a long time, complaining about the pain the teeth were causing you.

chris knew this and knew the best thing for you was to get them out. now you all were packed in the car with matt and chris in the front, while you and nick were in the back.

occasionally chris would reach behind his chair and allow you to hold his hand for some time. he knew as you were trying to appear calm and collected, your mind was actually racing.

but that feeling would only intensify as matt pulled into the parking lot of the dentist office. you did all the regulations upon entering the building, signing in, and waiting.

before you knew it you were in the chair, about to get those teeth pulled out.

“promise, you’ll stay?” you turned over to chris, watching him with pleading eyes as he grasped your hand in his.

“promise.”

timeskip

a couple of hours passed and you were finally off of the operating table. drowsy and unaware of where you were.

“where..where am i?” you spoke. you realized there was a strange feeling in your mouth. “waths in my mouf?!” you quickly tried to take out whatever it was from your mouth before chris stopped you.

“y/n, you need those in there baby.”

confusion took over for the rest of the day as your boyfriend completed the rest of the paper work and walked you out to the car where matt and nick were waiting.

“sooo..how’d it go?” nick asked amused as he saw your state. “nick, sit in the front i wanna sit with y/n.” chris said as he opened your side of the car door. you almost face planted as you got in but nick was quick to balance you before moving to the front seat.

chris didn’t feel like filming on the way back home since he’s sure you would kill him if he ever uploaded a video of you in this state. blabbering on and on about nothing that made sense while also questioning everything and anything.

“chrissy…why are there three of you.” you pouted before poking your boyfriend’s face, the reaching to poke matt and nick’s face as well. matt swatted your hand away and scolded you since he’s driving.

“why are you yelling at me?” you frowned at matt who you thought was chris before saying, “im breaking up with you!”

chris could only laugh at your antics causing his brothers to join in as well.

“y/n that’s matt.” he softly said while caressing your shoulder.

you made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth in realization, and muttered and apology to matt for threatening him.

you all made it back home, with chris carrying you to your shared room. as soon as he set you down on the bed it was lights out for you. immediately falling asleep in your boyfriend’s bed. he smiled as he moved his face in front of yours, softly giving you a kiss on the forehead, trying not to wake you up.

“i love you, y/n.” chris whispered, to which he got a snore in response. but thats all he needed. he knew you loved him just as much.

-

a/n: sorry i didnt know how to end it but i hope you enjoyed!

[camzeecorner]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍 - 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘰𝘤 𝘹 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯.

22. 𝘉𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘖𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳. 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦. 𝘋𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘈𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘍𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘦. 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦. 𝘖𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦. 𝘝𝘶𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. 𝘗𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦. 𝘋𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯. 𝘚𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭. 𝘋𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘔𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘈𝘯𝘹𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘛𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘋𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥. 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘱��𝘦𝘹.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍 - 𝘤𝘰𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰. 𝘹 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘰𝘤

29. 𝘉𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘢𝘤𝘩. 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯. 𝘋𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵. 𝘜𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥. 𝘋𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘍𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦. 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦. 𝘊𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭. 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥. 𝘙𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘥. 𝘔𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘏𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴. 𝘜𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘵. 𝘕𝘰-𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦. 𝘋𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥. 𝘎𝘰𝘢𝘭-𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯. 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘦. 𝘈𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦. 𝘙𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘙𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵. 𝘙𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘖𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵.

dividers → @bernardsbendystraws ฅ^._.^ฅ

Tag list - @shaquilles-0atmeal @monroesturnns @blahbel668 @mattssluttywaist @jetaimevous @ribread03 @meatballlover10 @mattslolita @sophand4n4 @riasturns @nickysturnss @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @sturnshood @riasturns @strnilolover @mattsbrowser @cayleeuhithinknott @blushsturns @snoopychris

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍 - @chrissweetheart @eeyoresturnz @blahbel668 @phone4pills @raesturns @priscillaog

[mooki3-bear]

Finding black sturniolo creators is like finding little crystals in the sea! Sooooo...

here are some of my favs ive found so far

@leoslaboratory

@muwapstraws

@raestromboli

@phone4pills

@chrisgetsmewetter

@pr3ttylittleslutt

@vvinirl

@muwapsturniolo

@mattslolita

I decided to make this list and shot out these certain creators because ive been reading fan fic FOREVER and could never find anything that was ya know...for me! I just wanted to show appreciation to these certain writers so that other POC readers can find them themselves.

Sorry if i missed anyone (please let me know about anyone else so i can add them to the list)