about me
victoria. 22. chaotic cancer who cries too much. english & media studies major.
english is not my first language, so bear with me <3
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comment to be added to a tag list!! đș
sheepfilms
Xuebing Du
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

pixel skylines

Janaina Medeiros

Discoholic đȘ©
No title available

JVL

No title available
Jules of Nature
hello vonnie
Keni

â

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â
Claire Keane
will byers stan first human second

if i look back, i am lost
we're not kids anymore.
ojovivo

seen from Germany
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seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Canada

seen from Jordan

seen from Brazil

seen from United States
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seen from United States
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@gilbertscurls
about me
victoria. 22. chaotic cancer who cries too much. english & media studies major.
english is not my first language, so bear with me <3
( masterlist ) ( wattpad ) ( spotify )
comment to be added to a tag list!! đș
romeo, you good? â chris sturniolo
It was nearing midnight, and you were curled up in bed with a book, the window cracked open to let in the cool summer air. Your room was lit with a soft glow from a string of fairy lights, the distant sound of crickets lulling you into calm.
Untilâ
CLANK.
You jumped, startled by the loud metal-on-metal sound just outside your window.
responsible â matt sturniolo
Matt didnât notice it at first.
It started smallâbarely-there shifts in the way you looked at him, lingering glances you didnât think he caught. But Matt had always been observant when it came to you, even if heâd never admit it out loud.
He started connecting the dots the night you came over to the apartment and found him on the kitchen floor surrounded by a million unassembled IKEA parts. Chris and Nick had bailed on him hours ago, both declaring they âhad better things to doâ than decipher Swedish instructions. He was sweaty, frustrated, and halfway to throwing the Allen wrench across the room when you appeared in the doorway.
five times you and chris had totally 'platonic' sex (and one time it wasnât) â chris sturniolo
The Drunk Mistake That Didnât Feel Like One
The first time it happened, you were drunk. Both of you. Maybe too drunk. Maybe not enough.
It was after someoneâs birthday party. You honestly couldnât remember. What you did remember was stumbling into Chrisâs apartment at 2 a.m., laughing about the guy who tried to flirt with you using a knock-knock joke, and the way Chris kept pushing your shoulder with that easy, lopsided grin.
Then, somewhere between teasing him and crashing on his couch, your mouth found his. Just found itâlike it had been waiting there all this time, no directions needed.
everything but â matt sturniolo
warnings: smut, edging, teasing, dirty talk, light restraint, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, sensory play, soft power
The night starts like it always does.
Mattâs hoodie draped around your shoulders, the sheets warm, your body half on top of his. His hand is under your shirt, warm against the bare skin of your back. He smells like clean laundry and skin and something boyish and delicious. His eyes are dark already.
âYou keep looking at me like that,â you murmur, âand Iâm not gonna make it through this movie.â
His thumb drags up your spine. âWho said weâre finishing the movie?â
You bite your lip. âSo cocky.â
âNot cocky,â he says, voice low. âJust know what I do to you.â
And then he flips you onto your back.
I am not trying to be disrespectful but sometimes you use big/sophisticated words in your cowboy fic (it's the first one I have read of yours and I am enjoying it a lot!) and it makes me think you use AI or something similar. Again, I do not mean this to be rude but I'm curious if you do.
i use 'big words' because i have a law degree.
nsfw alphabet â matt sturniolo
A = Aftercare
Matt is big on aftercare. He needs it as much as he gives it. After sex, he clingsâpulls you against his chest, presses forehead kisses to your skin, traces gentle fingers along your back. Whispers soft little things like, âWas I good for you?â or âYou okay, baby?â He thrives when you stroke his hair and praise him, and heâs not above whining if you try to move too fast. Expect cuddles, water, a hoodie tossed over your shoulders, and his hands laced with yours while you both come down from the high.
B = Body part
On himself? His hands. Not in a cocky wayâhe just likes the way they make you feel. The way you gasp when his fingers slide between your legs, or how tightly you hold onto them when heâs working you open.
On you? Your thighs. Heâs got a thing for burying his face between them, holding them apart or over his shoulders, or watching them shake when you come undone. Bonus points if you wrap them around his waist and squeeze when he thrusts deep.
office hours â matt sturniolo
professor!matt in honor of my graduation from university today!! âš
You could tell something was off the second you stepped into the seminar room. Not the usual Monday morning kind of offâthe tired eyes, the too-loud gum popper two rows down, the flickering light no one ever bothered to report. No, this was different. Thicker. Like the air was holding its breath.
Your friend leaned in immediately, her voice hushed and conspiratorial.
"Did you hear about the new teacher?"
You blinked. âWhat new teacher?â
âProfessor Wilson's out. Health thing. Someone newâs filling in, and apparentlyâŠâ she glanced around, lowering her voice even more, âheâs young. Like, young. And scary.â
press x to love him â matt sturniolo
 âAre you sure about this?â Matt asked, half-smirking, half-skeptical as he handed you the controller.
You sat cross-legged on his bed, the loading screen already glowing across the computer. âNope. Not even a little.â
âYou donât have to play if you donât want to,â he said quickly, scooting closer on the mattress. âI know Fortniteâs not really your thing.â
parental guidance â matt sturniolo
You had survived many things in life:
A 10-page essay with a 12-hour deadline.
The time your sister cut her own bangs and blamed you.
A near-death experience involving a rogue shopping cart at Costco.
But nothing, nothing, could have prepared you for the emotional rollercoaster of meeting Matt Sturnioloâs parents.
in the quiet between buttons â chris sturniolo
Youâre both late.
Not by muchâjust enough to feel the tick of the clock pushing against your back like a hand between your shoulder blades. The hotel room still smells like warm cologne and the clean steam of your shared shower. Chris stands in front of the mirror, trying to loop his tie with distracted fingers, brows furrowed in frustration. You, behind him, half-dressed in a black slip dress thatâs still unzipped halfway down your back, watch him with soft amusement as you fasten an earring.
âYouâre doing it wrong,â you murmur, stepping up beside him.
you're literally the problem â matt sturniolo
You wake up feeling like you got hit by a truck.
A very hot, annoyingly smug, Matt-shaped truck.
Your thighs ache, your back is a war zone, and your voice is hoarse from what was either screaming his name, cursing him out, or maybe both. You're not entirely sure. The details are a haze of messy sheets, breathless laughter, and him whispering âjust one more, babyâ for the sixth time in a row like a liar.
this is fine (itâs not) â chris sturniolo
It starts off innocent.
You and Chris are hanging out with the others in the living room, music low, snacks everywhere, some show playing in the background that no oneâs really paying attention to. Your legs are tired, the couch is crowded, and thereâs just⊠nowhere else to sit.
So without thinkingâtruly without even a single thoughtâyou step over to where Chris is lounging and gently lower yourself onto his lap.
âHope you donât mind,â you say, casual as air.
He doesnât respond immediately. Mostly because his brain has just bluescreened.
the family maker â matt sturniolo
Itâs a dumb TikTok trend. Thatâs what you told yourself.
You werenât planning anything serious. Not trying to seduce him. Not really. It was just funny. Cute, even. Something to tease him with.
And Matt was the perfect target.
He was lounging in his usual spotâyour bed, where he spent at least half his time, it seemed. Hoodie half-zipped, hair messy from the hoodie hood, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle like he owned the place. The lazy kind of pretty that didnât try, didnât have to. He was on his phone, scrolling, earbuds in, totally oblivious to the trap you were setting up.
scruff and hunger â matt sturniolo
warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), face sitting, beard kink, overstimulation, dirty talk, hair pulling, whimpering
When Matt first showed up with that scruffy, grown-out beard, you barely recognized him.
The clean-shaven boy you knew? Gone. Replaced by this rugged, rough version with dark whiskers shadowing his jaw, cheeks, and that perfect throat you wanted to press your lips to.
feel anything â matt sturniolo
Itâs 3:47 a.m. and Mattâs lying on his bedroom floor again.
The lights are off. The ceiling is spinning. Or maybe itâs just him.
His phoneâs face-down on the carpet. Has been for hours.
He hasnât checked it.
He wonât check it.
Because if your nameâs not there, itâll break him. And if it is?
Itâll break him worse.