DRESS CODE: 𝒱𝒶𝓂𝓅 𝑅𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒸
─ ཐི ⋅ ♰ ⋅ ཋྀ ─ 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞? ─ ཐི ⋅ ♰ ⋅ ཋྀ ─
𝐎𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 ?
// ヤ laur ࿁ ⠀ ˚ adult 𐙚 ⁺ masterlist ⿻ taglist
No title available

Discoholic 🪩

pixel skylines
Cosmic Funnies
cherry valley forever
Misplaced Lens Cap
hello vonnie

if i look back, i am lost

roma★
trying on a metaphor
i don't do bad sauce passes
Three Goblin Art

blake kathryn
taylor price
AnasAbdin
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
ojovivo
YOU ARE THE REASON
Game of Thrones Daily
Keni

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@eternalsturn
DRESS CODE: 𝒱𝒶𝓂𝓅 𝑅𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒸
─ ཐི ⋅ ♰ ⋅ ཋྀ ─ 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞? ─ ཐི ⋅ ♰ ⋅ ཋྀ ─
𝐎𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 ?
// ヤ laur ࿁ ⠀ ˚ adult 𐙚 ⁺ masterlist ⿻ taglist
⟡ now airing ---⭑𓂃 ⟢ to a new altitude 𖦹 𓂃⭑
starring matt sturniolo as... author!matt
── .✦ published his first book at 20, now 22. has an adorable bombay even though he’s mildly allergic to cats. dancing in the rain kinda romantic. quiet nights. noise cancelling headphones on when writing. smells like something woodsy and dangerous. nature gives him inspiration. heartthrob but doesn’t have a girlfriend. blue-light glasses. charming smiles. meddle about by chase atlantic.
starring you as... florist!reader aka flora
── .✦ started working as a florist at 21, now 24. doesn’t have any pets but absolutely adores cats. would rather stay in during a rainy day. slow mornings. plays something slow and melodic on the speaker while arranging flowers. smells like something floral and alluring. reading books keeps her grounded. has a fwb who’s too obsessed. layered jewelry. eye rolls. glory box by portishead.
SYNOPSIS during a day off, you decide to visit the bookstore next-door to your florist shop. the air-conditioned store—smelling distinctly of books—is a stark contrast to the beating sun outside. a welcome change. the bookstore clerk, a young man in his early 20s, beams at you as you walk further in, calling out to you in that cheerful tone you’re quite used to hearing by now since he often comes over to get new plants and whatnot to place around the store. but what you aren’t used to is the man who’s already standing at the counter, talking to the clerk. he looks just like the clerk known as chris—yet he’s got a different aura around him that has your pulse quickening despite yourself. and when he smirks slightly, averting his undivided attention to you, you know you’re already falling into the depths of his ocean blue eyes.
FILMOGRAPHY
EPISODES
⟢ coming soon!
FILLER EPISODES
⟢ coming soon!
MISC.
⟢ coming soon!
Q&A
⟢ everything author!matt && florist!reader
---⭑ «tickets» 𓂃 «au navi» ⭑---
DIRECTOR’S SPEECH hi, um, new au... (٥↼_↼) i know, i know, i promise things and don’t write for them... i’m painfully aware. but i needed to make this au asap ’cause it’s author!matt and author!matt is very much real rn since matt’s releasing a book this august?! anyway, i’m gonna sleep now since i was so locked in making this that i didn’t notice the time and it’s morning already
ⓘ updates will be slow. please bear with me :)
© chrisssiren
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐠 𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 𝒪𝓇𝑒𝑔𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓊 🫎 matt s. x f!reader
pairing ⊹ ࣪ ˖𓂃 ⌗ мαтт & мαє
『 atmospheric romance 』
brief insight — Matt met Mae at his uncle’s mechanic shop in Cannon Beach, where he works. Salt air, pine forests, quiet. Mae’s deeply attached to Oregon, born and raised, while Mattt only moved there a few years back. Together, they try to navigate love, loyalty, and the quiet fear of losing the place that brought them together.
╰⊹ ࣪𖥔 ݁ ┆ambience
𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟-𝕤𝕠𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕤, 𝕗𝕠𝕘𝕘𝕪 𝕔𝕠𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤, 𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕤, 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕖 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔, 𝕓𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕤, 𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕤-𝕔𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕔𝕒𝕓𝕚𝕟𝕤, 𝕤𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕝-𝕥𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕤𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕤
⌗ мαє “If people leave, they’ll never come back.”
⌗ мαтт “If I stay, I’ll become trapped.”
𝓛aur’s radio*** heyy! this won’t have a strict storyline built chapter by chapter beceause i apparently can’t keep up with those lol! instead, it’ll mostly be one-shots/drabbles where you get to know the characters, their dynamic, and the things they go through. there just won’t really be one specific timeline — it’ll feel more like pages being picked out of a book and not the entire picture.
p.s.Oregon will obviously be romanticized as fuck certain times :D
the way rewatching gravity falls compelled me to do this…
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐠 𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 𝒪𝓇𝑒𝑔𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓊 🫎 matt s. x f!reader
pairing ⊹ ࣪ ˖𓂃 ⌗ мαтт & мαє
『 atmospheric romance 』
brief insight — Matt met Mae at his uncle’s mechanic shop in Cannon Beach, where he works. Salt air, pine forests, quiet. Mae’s deeply attached to Oregon, born and raised, while Mattt only moved there a few years back. Together, they try to navigate love, loyalty, and the quiet fear of losing the place that brought them together.
╰⊹ ࣪𖥔 ݁ ┆ambience
𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟-𝕤𝕠𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕤, 𝕗𝕠𝕘𝕘𝕪 𝕔𝕠𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤, 𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕤, 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕖 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔, 𝕓𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕤, 𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕤-𝕔𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕔𝕒𝕓𝕚𝕟𝕤, 𝕤𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕝-𝕥𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕤𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕤
⌗ мαє “If people leave, they’ll never come back.”
⌗ мαтт “If I stay, I’ll become trapped.”
𝓛aur’s radio*** heyy! this won’t have a strict storyline built chapter by chapter beceause i apparently can’t keep up with those lol! instead, it’ll mostly be one-shots/drabbles where you get to know the characters, their dynamic, and the things they go through. there just won’t really be one specific timeline — it’ll feel more like pages being picked out of a book and not the entire picture.
p.s.Oregon will obviously be romanticized as fuck certain times :D
i’m gonna cum
mf casually wrote a book??? alr big dick calm down, we get it
i’m thinking weather i should just drop attempting to write series😭
like i love au’s but i think i’m so much more fit to write like independent blurbs/one shots and not actually linking them to a full story because i end up feeling stuck and unsatisfied and then i don’t wanna continue at all-
my vamp au only proved that point like i felt sm more comfortable and confident writing thoseee
matt’s fucking hair.
Im ovulating chill
i just want you to cum inside.
The Guy Next Door (Part 5)
Special Delivery Chris X f! Reader Mature | Explicit | MDNI A package mix-up leads to a calculated flirtation with the observant brother, turning a simple errand into a deliberate betrayal of secrets while the house is empty. Part 4
The California sun was a physical weight, pressing down on the roof, baking the pavement, making the air in your bedroom feel thick and still. You’d been sketching design ideas for your first project—a deconstructed slip dress in iridescent silk—when your phone chimed. A delivery notification. Finally. The special fabric you’d ordered had arrived. You practically bounced down the stairs, the cool tile of the foyer a relief on your bare feet.
You pulled open the front door, the heat hitting you like a wall. You scanned the porch. Nothing. A flicker of annoyance. You stepped out, looking left and right. Your eyes caught on a familiar brown box sitting plainly on the welcome mat of the house next door.
Of course.
You sighed, running a hand through your hair. You were dressed for the oppressive heat in what you considered ‘home clothes’: tiny, soft pink booty shorts that hugged the curve of your ass and a simple white cropped top that exposed a strip of your waist. No bra. It was too damn hot for layers. You padded across the two strips of grass separating the townhouses, the sun warming your shoulders.
You knocked on the sleek black door. A few seconds passed, filled with the distant hum of a lawnmower. Then it opened.
It was Matt.
matt is so😫😫😫
i obviously can’t prove it but i just know matt’s a GREAT eater
in the new video when nick was talking about a lemur climbing a woman, chris asked him “did you let anything climb you” and he said he didnt play those types of games, matt said like lowkey with a smirk “i love those games”
imagine him making you hold yourself up on him while having sex like reverse wall sex… omg i need this as a fic 😵💫😵💫
oh em gee
i wish i felt the capacity to write this but unfortunately i don’t atm😭😭
someone do this pls☹️🙏
†༙ ཐི❤︎ཋྀ †༙ vamp!matt + human!reader 🧛🏽
──PLEASURE AND PAIN PT. 1 . . . 𓉸ྀི
synopsis — matt comes for one of his visits…
contains — suggestive, dark romance (vampire), some praise, masochism, power imbalance, self destructive tendencies, mention of vampire feeding at the end
There was nothing beyond a feeling that left you expecting him on this night.
The curtains whispered and breathed with the wind, as if the room itself were waiting.
It was like the night itself spoke to you.
Like the dark wasn’t empty.
As though it carried him in its depths, drawing closer with every passing second.
There was simply a presence to it all, too prominent to not notice.
Despite the cold breeze that stung against your skin, you left the long, narrow window open. An invitation.
And you hoped to be reasonable by doing so.
After a long while of nothingness, you trembled under your blanket from the chill. But you didn’t want to give up.
You decided to slip out of the warmth of your bed, the last traces of heat clinging to your skin as you pressed yourself off of it.
As you make your way towards the window, the moonlight effortlessly drapes your figure in a pale, silver glow. Your short sleep dress stirred at once, caught in the quiet command of the wind, similarly to the flames of your pearl, lit-up candles at your bedside.
You peered into the darkness, searching for anything.
Your teeth clattered softly, a shiver rippled through you, as goosebumps rose in a fine, unbroken layer across your skin.
But there was nothing.
You didn’t want to believe it, you were so sure.
You turned around, your back facing the peaking night.
You stood there and began to surrender to the thought that this was nothing more than a delusion that you’d projected onto yourself—a trick of your own longing.
But only then, the tension, already strung tight, snapped into something even sharper. Heavier.
You froze.
You closed your eyes, waited and practically prayed for Matt’s appearance—but at this point you did know this wasn’t any sort of delusion anymore.
And then it came—
a single, sharp fracture in the stillness.
The air snapped behind you, sudden and precise. It rushed past in a cold sweep, threading through your hair, tugging at the thin fabric of your dress.
As if the night had slipped inside the room…and taken form.
You saw him, there on the floor, a shadow behind you, joining yours.
The air thickened from his presence before he even touched you.
Then, his breath finally fanned over your shoulder. He was close.
Very close.
His hand reached the side of your face, fingertips slipping beneath a chunk of your hair, drawing it back slowly, his fingers grazing your temple.
His grip on your hair grew firmer as he breathed in your scent, burying his nose in it and inhaling deeply.
Your eyes slipped shut as you sank into him, unable to resist the weight drawing you to him. Your back came into contact with his chest and you let out a sigh.
You felt so small before him. So vulnerable, but so willing.
His nose traced beneath your hair now, lingering over the pulse at your neck. He kept there, inhaling deeply, paying careful focus to the satisfying rhythm of the hot blood that rushed through your veins—to the only thing that made him lose himself in this world.
He pulled your hair further, making your head tilt back, putting more of your neck on display for him.
“I knew you were coming.” You sigh, as his nose continues tracing the curves of your neck.
“You did. Because I wanted you to know.”
His unoccupied hand wandered up your front, sliding over your abdomen and settling on your chest. His palm layed flat over it, pressing you into him even more. His touch carried that familiar possessiveness that made you heat up to the core.
“Kept the window open,” he began, and licked a slow stripe up your neck, making you gasp lightly.
“Such a good girl.” He continued, then began to leave loud, wet kisses on the sensitive flesh.
You moaned for him as his lips sucked on a spot just below your ear, while his hand lowered to palm your breast firmly.
He noticed how tense you were, how you kept on squirming under his touch, how your thighs pressed together, so he let his hand wander all the way to your clothed cunt.
His fingers ghosted over your heat, as if only to test how wet you really were. You practically let out a cry, seeking the friction.
He turned you in a single, fluid motion—a snap so swift it stole the breath from your lungs.
The world seemed to stutter as you faced him.
He watched you with quiet, intent focus, observing the slow dilation of your pupils—under that gaze, it felt as though he saw beyond flesh and bone, straight into the hidden corners of your soul.
His gaze rested upon you with careful focus, those icy blue eyes contrasting the paleness of his deathly skin—alluring, compelling as ever.
Your mouth fell slightly agape as you grew more and more entranced by him. You hardly realized he’d started taking steps forward, coaxing you to move backward. Your eyes never tore from his as you took the slow steps, you couldn’t have done it if you wanted to.
The back of your knees struck the edge of your bed and needles to say anything, you layed down, all on display for him.
A restless shiver moved through you at the sight of him above you, making you squirm in your spot a little.
He did not rush. He never did. He simply watched, the weight of his presence somehow becoming even more intense.
At last, he lowered himself. His hands found your exposed thighs, and you gasped, the cold of his touch sharp as ice against your skin. He traced upward, and would pause at the harsh marks he previously left behind, gently caressing the scarred flesh.
It had always been that paradox—he savored the pain he caused, then he’d ‘kiss it better’’, almost as if he could take it back, as if he was sorry…
But you knew he wasn’t. It was just…his way.
His gaze lifted slowly to your face, shadows clinging beneath his eyes where faint veins traced their way through pale skin—an unmistakable sign. It was time.
“The sting that never stays…” he murmured against your skin, voice low, as though it was to steady you.
His hand slid beneath your thigh firmly, as his predatory focus settled on the spot he had chosen to target.
“Please…” you breathed—half a plea, half anticipation for that all-too-familiar ache.
Then his eyes slowly drifted away…and the distance vanished in an instant.
A sharp intake of breath—and his fangs finally pierced your skin.
ᝰ.ᐟ why have i never seen that picture of matt i used in the heading before????
taglist baes 𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ @courta13 @sturncoast @chris-hallelujah @chriss-slut @billscherries @sturnsdollx @sunnybrooks0511 @urmm0m @chrisssiren
cross divider: @chrisssiren :*
theme blessed my eyes so good when i clicked on ur blog i jus forgot my last name, can i have urs instead?
stoppp it😋😋
may i kiss the bride now?
The Guy Next Door (Part 1)
New Neighbor Chris X f! Reader Mature | Explicit | MDNI Your new in town and you meet your next door neighbor in an interesting way.
The Los Angeles heat was a sticky, oppressive blanket, even at night. Your aunt’s townhouse was beautiful, a blessing, but the air conditioning in your room seemed to wage a personal war against the summer. After a week of trying to sleep in damp pajamas, you’d given up. Tonight, you wore nothing but a thin, black cotton tank top and a pair of simple black panties. No bra. The fabric was soft against your skin, clinging lightly to your petite curves as you moved.
You sat at the desk by the window, the university campus map spread out before you. The curtains were drawn wide, the glass closed. Outside, the neighbor’s house was a dark silhouette, its driveway occupied by a car that hadn’t budged since you arrived. Empty, you’d assumed. A low, rhythmic R&B track pulsed from your phone, filling the quiet room with a lazy groove. You’d been studying for an hour, your back starting to ache from hunching over.
You stood, arching your spine, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The music swelled, a smooth bassline you couldn’t ignore. You let your hips sway, just a little. A slow roll, then a gentle dip. It was innocent, a private moment of stretching into a dance, your arms lifting, your head tilting back. You closed your eyes, feeling the air on your bare arms, the tank top brushing against your nipples. A small, unconscious smile touched your lips.
When you opened your eyes, you glanced out the window.
A faint, cool blue glow shone from the second-story window of the dark house across the way. A phone screen, you thought. You didn’t stop. You turned, letting the music guide you, your hands running through your hair. You faced the window again.
The blue glow was gone. Now, the room was lit by a dim, purple haze—strip LED lights, you guessed. And in the center of that purple glow stood a man.
𐔌 ˘˖ 🐚 ⦂ 𝘞𝘌𝘓𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘛𝘖… sturncoast's shoreline shack ˛ ˖ 🥥 . 𝄒
introduction: a spring writing special with a twist. a place where you can take a seat, relax and feel the sea breeze. what can I get started for you?
evie's note: must be mutuals to order anything & must be 18+ to order alcohol !! this special was inspired by @cinnamonsturns & @filthgf 's similar concepts. I also took large inspiration from @/rafeslvbug. they have since deactivated, but please know this was not an original idea. this writing special has no end date, and I will take my time working on these requests. each piece will vary in length from 0.5k -1.5k words.
when ordering: please view the menu below and include any details you would like me to write about in my inbox, the more detail the better 🫧 your order will be delivered via a separate masterlist post once it has been completed.
†༙ ཐི❤︎ཋྀ †༙ vamp!matt + human!reader 🧛🏽
──IN LOVE WITH THE ONE WHO HOLDS THE GUN . . . 𓉸ྀི
synopsis — like a prologue to the vamp!matt fantasy
contains — angst, dark romance (vampire), toxic relationship dynamics, power imbalance, self destructive tendencies, mentions of vampire feeding and masochism
You were his sacred little thing.
Even before, when he wasn’t all that nice, that is.
You were empty before him. Not in the dramatic way people spoke of in poems or tragedies—just…hollow.
Unclaimed. Unnoticed.
You drifted through life like something misplaced, something no one ever thought to look for.
Then came the night that rewrote everything.
The ballroom glittered with chandeliers and laughter, a sea of silk and gold—but you stood apart from it all. Draped in a long, shimmering gown, a glass of red wine cradled loosely in your hand, you lingered at the edge of the world as though you didn’t quite belong in it.
And that was when he saw you.
Matt.
He wasn’t drawn especially to beauty—there was plenty of that. He wasn’t drawn to joy—he despised it, if anything.
He was drawn to absence.
To the quiet vacancy behind your eyes.
That’s why he picked you.
When he revealed his secret, instead of scaring away, you leaned closer. Then and there he knew—you were the one.
That was the beginning of your undoing.
You didn’t just stay—you needed him.
Every touch, every quiet moment, every glimpse into his darkness made you cling harder, like he had become the only thing anchoring you to existence.
And he let you.
Because he liked it.
Matt wasn’t cruel in the obvious ways. He didn’t shout. He didn’t strike. His voice was often soft, his hands careful, his presence almost tender.
But there was something colder beneath it all.
He used you. Fed off of that lost, wandering, innocent soul of yours.
He liked the way you depended on him, the way your world narrowed until it was nothing but him. The way you looked at him—not with fear, but with devotion.
He’d appear from time to time like a shadow, feed, then dissapear.
Sometimes it would be days, other times weeks.
You never knew.
There came a point by which you’d start to cry each time he was about to leave you again.
“Please, Matt..” you’d mutter while clinging onto his shirt.
But it didn’t change anything.
He would study your face, taking in all your pending despair.
“My poor, poor baby.” he’d coo, satisfied.
His palms would come up to press against your cheeks and sometimes he’d actually kiss you. Slow and deep, as a way of saying goodbye and to give you some sense of a reward.
Other times he’d just brush his thumb over your pouty, plush lip and vanish.
He quite literally drained the life out of you and yet, the most alive you felt was when he was there.
You didn’t like it when he was gone—
You missed the way he’d kiss you softly, the way he’d stroke your hair, the way he’d carry you to bed once it all became too much.
Even the pain, you missed. The feeling of his teeth sinking into your flesh like you were his only lifeline.
Similarly to how he was yours.
You missed the after.
The brush of his lips against your neck, softer than before, as if he were trying to erase what he’d just done. The way he would press a quiet kiss over the mark he left behind, then soothe it with slow drag of his tongue.
It was as though you were something to be cherished once the damage was already done. His voice would drop, low and almost warm, murmuring soft praise against your skin—calling you his good, sweet girl, like you had done something right by giving yourself over so completely.
And you held onto that.
Not the ache, not the fading strength—but those fleeting, fragile moments where you might’ve meant as much to him too.
ᝰ.ᐟ i blame nessa all the way for the wave of inspo for this whole concept
taglist baes 𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ @courta13 @sturncoast @chris-hallelujah @chriss-slut @billscherries @sturnsdollx @sunnybrooks0511 @urmm0m @chrisssiren
cross divider : @chrisssiren :*