✦ … your hands gripped anything they could as your body moved back and forth because of colby’s thrusts.
he held your waist tightly trying to keep you steady as he pounded into your pretty pink pussy. “so pretty under me baby.” he purred, moving his hands all over your body, relishing in the moment.
the squelching of your bodies connecting with to one another the only sound in the room other than your quiet little grunts. your hand was covering your face and your hair was all over it, messily but in the most attractive way.
colby’s neck veins had mopped out and the cold feeling of his rings were like electricity on your skin. you reached out to press your hand against his chest, getting completely fucked into oblivion.
he held your waist leaving down connecting your lips as he moved his hips. his tongue melted into your mouth, moving in a sensual way.
you couldn’t kiss back with full force because of the whimpers that spilled out your throat. you felt his tip touching your spot over and over again, it had you writhing beneath him.
he moved back to his spot looking down at you and noticing one of the hottest things. “god, look at how fucking good i’m filling you up. look baby.” he groaned, smoothing his hand over your stomach. “i fill you up good, huh pretty girl?”
his words of praise and dirty talk two your thighs shaking and walls clenching around colby before he could even get to his high. you clenched hard around him, convulsing on his dick and moaned his name loud as your orgasm washed through you.
colby stood there holding himself back from spilling his seed inside you, refusing to let it end. “gonna keep fucking you till i’m done, m’kay? gonna use you alright baby?” he lifted your chin to look at him. “be a good girl for me and take it.”
a/n : i loveeee this fic! might be my fav one yet..
synopsis : your group is known for being sweet and nothing less, while your new peer’s known for being the opposite. what will happens when the opposites date?
**
the first time you meet martin from cortis, you’re convinced the universe is playing some kind of joke on you.
because you’re standing backstage at one of the biggest year-end award shows, wearing a soft pink lace dress with bows trailing down the sleeves — literally the most illit-coded outfit of all time — and then he walks by like a walking contradiction to your entire aesthetic.
chains. black cargo pants. a mesh shirt layered under a graphic tee that looks stolen from an early 2000s rocker. silver piercings catching the blue stage lights. hair streaked with white blonde, styled in a messy, grungy way that somehow looks intentional.
he glances at you for half a second — just a blink — and you feel like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.
you look away instantly.
your manager nudges you. “don’t be shy. you’ll be rehearsing with him.”
right. the collaboration stage. the one every fan has been screaming about since it got announced. illit x cortis — “glitter riot.” a mix of cute and edgy, sugary and sharp. a performance concept that looked insane on paper but somehow worked when the choreographer showed you.
still, no one warned you that martin was… well… martin.
you’re adjusting your mic when someone clears their throat beside you.
“uh. you’re from illit, right?”
you nearly jump. “oh— yes! i’m— uh— i’m y/n.”
you curse yourself internally. why are you stuttering? you don’t stutter. you’ve survived debut stages, encore lives, and fansign chaos. but suddenly one boy with smudged eyeliner has your whole nervous system glitching.
martin nods, shoving his hands into his pockets. “cool. i’m martin.”
you almost laugh. as if you didn’t already know.
silence drops between you like fog. he seems just as unsure as you — eyes flicking to your dress, then to the floor, then back to you.
“i like your style,” he says suddenly.
you blink. “what?”
“i mean— it fits you. it’s… cute.” he scratches the back of his neck. “not cute in, like, a weird way. cute in a— a cool way. not that cute is cool— well it is, but—”
he stops himself.
you smile — actually smile — because watching him unravel might be the funniest thing you’ve seen in weeks.
“thanks,” you say, trying not to giggle. “i like your style too. i could never pull that off.”
he glances down at his outfit. “this? i just threw it on.”
lies. dead, obvious lies. no one who “just throws on” clothes looks that coordinated in grayscale.
“still,” you shrug, “you look cool.”
he goes quiet for a second.
then he turns his head away — but not before you catch it.
the tiniest smile.
**
rehearsals start awkward but end… very much not
at first it’s stiff. your worlds are too different. your group giggles when he walks on set; his members tease him quietly in korean, nudging his shoulders because he keeps glancing at you.
you pretend not to notice.
during choreography blocking, you two are paired for a partner section — a quick spin, a hand-hold, a point toward the audience — but martin keeps messing up the timing.
“sorry,” he mutters after the fourth time. “i swear i’m better than this.”
“it’s okay,” you reassure. “we can go slower.”
“no— i can do it. i’m just— distracted.”
“distracted?”
his eyes flick to your hand in his.
and you get it.
you really do.
it makes your cheeks warm, but your voice stays steady.
“want to try again?”
he nods, jaw tightening in determination.
the next run-through is perfect.
and the choreographer says, “see? you two look good together.”
the entire room goes quiet.
martin goes pink.
you pretend to adjust your hair.
**
the performance is electric
no one expects your energy to match his, but on stage, it happens naturally.
your softness sharpens under the lights; his dark aura brightens just enough next to you. fans scream at every moment you two share — the way he steadies your waist during the spin, the way you grin at him during the camera close-up, the way he mouths “nice job” to you as the stage goes black.
afterward, he pats your head gently. too gently. too naturally.
“you did great,” he says.
“you too.”
and somehow, the sentence that slips out next feels inevitable
“we should hang out sometime. like… after all the award show craziness.”
he freezes.
“yeah,” he says softly. “i’d like that.”
**
you become rookie mcs together
you find out the same day he does — during a media announcement.
you’re practicing in your dorm when your phone explodes with notifications. your members scream.
“y/n! you’re going to be an mc! with martin!”
your jaw drops.
“me? with him?!”
the article headline reads:
“illit’s y/n and cortis’s martin selected as new music program rookie mcs — fans excited for unexpected pairing.”
unexpected is putting it lightly.
but when martin texts you — “did you see?? guess they liked our stage lol” — you can practically hear the smile in his words.
your first day as mcs is chaotic. neither of you knows where to stand. scripts keep being rewritten mid-show. martin forgets a line, panics, and you whisper it to him under your breath while cameras are on the other idols.
after the broadcast, he bows to staff, then turns to you.
“thanks. seriously. i would’ve died without you.”
“you’re doing great,” you say. “really.”
he looks at you for a long moment.
“you make this easier.”
the sentence sits warm in your chest for the rest of the night.
**
feelings grow in small ways
usually it’s subtle.
he gives you his hoodie when your outfit is too thin in the studio.
you fix his hair when his bangs fall into his eyes.
he buys you strawberry milk before every saturday broadcast.
you bring him black hair ties because he always loses his.
he sends you memes at 3 a.m.
you tell him about your favorite hello kitty plushies.
he pretends not to be obsessed with hearing you talk.
your aesthetics still clash brutally — his lockscreen is all neon edits and dystopian filters; yours is pastel sparkles — but somehow you match more than anyone could’ve predicted.
your members tease you relentlessly.
“you LOOK at your phone differently when it’s his name,” minju says.
“you SMILE at your phone differently,” moka adds.
you deny everything.
which is ridiculous, because meanwhile, martin’s members are giving him the exact same grief.
“bro just ask her out,” james groans.
“i can’t just— ask her out,” martin mutters. “she’s cute. and busy. and cute.”
“you said cute twice.”
“because she IS!”
they laugh at him the entire practice.
**
the night everything changes
it’s late.
broadcast filming finished hours ago, but both your groups are doing a joint backstage vlog challenge for fun — behind-the-scenes chaos for fans.
staff is busy. cameras are rolling, but unfocused. members are talking loudly in the foreground, blocking most of the shot.
and you and martin are standing behind them — just barely out of frame.
he’s leaning against a wall, head tilted. you’re standing close, too close to be casual, but neither of you moves.
he holds your hand.
not in a performance way. not in a gimmick way.
just… holds it.
thumb brushing your knuckles slowly.
you look up at him. he looks down at you. and everything feels suspended.
“we’re gonna get caught,” you whisper.
“probably,” he says, completely unbothered.
you try not to laugh. “martin…”
he shifts, stepping closer — hands still linked behind your skirts, your bodies hidden by the chaos of your groups.
“i like you,” he says simply.
your heart stops.
“i’ve liked you since the first rehearsal. and i keep trying to play it cool but i’m terrible at it.”
you swallow. “i like you too.”
he exhales like he’s been holding the breath for months.
“can i—?”
you nod before he even finishes the question.
he presses his forehead to yours. it’s not a kiss. it’s something softer, smaller, safer — but it sends warmth through you anyway.
you don’t realize a staff camera catches the corner of the moment.
not the words.
not the closeness.
just your hands intertwined for half a second before the camera pans away.
**
the scandal breaks
the next morning twitter is a mess.
#martinxy/n
#illitcortisbackstage
“are they HOLDING HANDS???”
dispatch releases an article analyzing the grainy footage like it’s cctv evidence.
comments flood in.
“how is the most dark boy and the most pink girl dating??? this is wild.”
“he looks like he steals street signs and she looks like she collects stickers???”
“honestly kinda cute though.”
“the contrast is insane but i’m living for it.”
your companies panic. meetings are held. statements are discussed.
but unexpectedly — shockingly — the public isn’t mad.
they’re fascinated.
the concept of “grunge boyfriend x fairy girlfriend” becomes a meme overnight.
edit accounts blow up.
fashion blogs call you “aesthetic opposites in the best way.”
and martin texts you:
“are we… trending because we’re holding hands???”
“apparently.”
“should we… talk? about us?”
your fingers shake as you type.
“yeah. we probably should.”
**
the talk
you meet on the roof of the broadcasting building — martin’s idea, which sounds rebellious until he admits it’s because he wanted privacy and fresh air.
he stands there in ripped jeans and a huge black hoodie. you stand there in a cream-colored knit dress.
you look like spring.
he looks like midnight.
and he smiles like he knows it.
“so,” he says quietly. “we’re in trouble.”
you laugh. “a little.”
“i’m not sorry though.”
you blink. “you’re not?”
he shakes his head. “i don’t want to hide that i like you. i know we have to be careful. i know dating isn’t easy for idols. but i’m not pretending i don’t feel what i feel.”
you don’t say anything at first — too busy staring at him, wondering how someone who looks like a walking rock concert can sound so gentle.
“i want to date you,” he says. “for real.”
you breathe out slowly. “i want that too.”
the relief on his face is visible.
he steps forward.
you meet him halfway.
and he wraps his arms around you — warm, surprisingly soft, holding you like you’re something fragile he wants to protect.
you bury your face in his chest. he smells like vanilla and cologne and something unfamiliar but comforting.
“we’ll go slow,” he murmurs. “we’ll be careful. but i’m not going anywhere.”
۶ৎ Pairing: stray kids x fem!reader ۶ৎ Gener: Fluff, Romance, Slight Humor ۶ৎ Words count: 1,200 words ۶ৎ Team reading: 4–6 minutes ۶ৎ Published: 11 November 2025 ۶ৎ Status: Completed ۶ৎ Warnings: None
۶ৎ Note: Please do not repost, translate, or claim my work as your own, All writing belongs to the original author. Respect the creator’s effort.
BANG CHAN ── .⟡ 방찬
He’s talking too much again — rambling about a new track — when you suddenly lean forward and kiss him mid-sentence. His words cut off with a surprised hum. For a second, his brain completely stops working. Then, he smiles against your lips, hands gently coming up to cup your face.
“Guess I was talking too much, huh?” he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours, eyes soft. “You can interrupt me like that anytime.”
LEE MINHO ── .⟡ 이민호
When you kiss him, his eyes widen for a split second before he quickly recovers, smirking.
“Well… that’s one way to shut me up,” he teases, voice low but his ears are bright pink. You try to pull back, embarrassed, but he tugs you back by your wrist and kisses you again — slower this time.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart,” he says, trying to sound confident, though his heart’s pounding hard enough to betray him.
SEO CHANGBIN ── .⟡ 서창빈
You barely press your lips to his before he lets out a noise — somewhere between a gasp and a surprised laugh. “Wait— wait— you just— kissed me?” His face turns red immediately, and he hides it behind his hands.
You giggle, and he groans, peeking through his fingers. “You can’t just drop that on me like it’s nothing! My heart’s doing gymnastics right now!”
He eventually pulls you close again, shyly kissing your forehead. “Do it again… but maybe warn me next time?”
HWANG HYUNJIN ── .⟡ 황현진
He freezes, eyes fluttering shut mid-breath as your lips meet his. When you pull back, you’re not sure if he’s breathing. Then he smiles — soft, almost dazed.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that,” he whispers, brushing your hair back with trembling fingers.
He leans back in and kisses you again, slower, deeper. “Now that it’s happened once… I’m not letting it be the last.”
HAN JISUNG ── .⟡ 한지성
You kiss him on impulse while you’re both laughing about something dumb, and he completely short-circuits. He just stares, blinking, mouth open.
“Wait. Did— did that actually happen? Are you—”
You laugh, leaning in again, and he immediately melts into it, hands awkwardly hovering before settling on your waist. When you pull back, he grins like an idiot.
“I’m never shutting up about this,” he warns. “Ever.”
LEE FELIX ── .⟡ 이 필릭스
He goes perfectly still, freckles bright against his flushed cheeks. “Y/N… did you just—?” His voice cracks adorably, and you nod, suddenly shy.
He breaks into the softest smile, eyes shining. “You don’t know how happy that makes me.”
Then he wraps his arms around you in a warm hug and kisses you back, featherlight. “You taste like sunshine,” he says, half-joking — but his tone is full of wonder.
KIM SEUNGMIN ── .⟡ 김승민
You kiss him unexpectedly while he’s teasing you, and when you pull away, he raises a brow, completely unfazed. “So that’s your way of winning an argument?”
You cross your arms, flustered, but the corners of his mouth twitch upward. “It’s effective,” he admits, leaning closer. “But next time, maybe I’ll kiss you first.”
You barely have time to respond before he does exactly that — calm, sure, and entirely in control.
YANG JEONGIN ── .⟡ 양정인
He goes from confident to flustered in an instant. One second he’s joking around, the next his entire face is red.
“I—I didn’t think you’d actually do that!” he stammers, covering his mouth.
You giggle, and he groans, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, okay— hold on— I need a second.” Then, after a deep breath, he looks at you shyly.
“Can I… try that again? Properly?” he asks — and when you nod, he kisses you this time, soft and hesitant but sweet beyond words.
it hadn’t been your intention to tease chris all day—you didn’t know that changing into a fresh, new pair of lacy panties in front of him would drive him so crazy.
the way his eyes had locked on you when you bent over to tug them up should’ve told you everything.
he tried to hold it together the best he could while you guys were out—trying to keep himself from just grabbing you and taking you anywhere he could.
and he was doing so well—but his restraint had finally snapped when you made it home. he barely had an ounce of patience left in him.
you barely had anytime to make it through the front door before chris’ hands were everywhere on you. gripping at your hips, mumbling words against your ear as his fingers toyed with the band of your jeans.
you didn’t stop him as he walked you back to the couch—his hands gripping tighter at your hips as his lips crashed into yours.
his fingers undid the button on your jeans, slowly pushing them down as his tongue slid into your mouth, deepening the kiss. it wasn’t long before he pulled away, lips swollen and gaze hungry as he pushed you down onto the couch.
“fuck baby… been thinkin’ about these all day.” he muttered when his eyes landed on the lace, sinking to his knees in front of you. his hands rubbing up and down your thighs, slowly prying them apart.
the moment his eyes landed on the dark patch in the center of your panties, he lost it.
“so fuckin’ pretty.” he praised, leaning forward and pressing his mouth against the lace. wet, hot kisses dampened the fabric instantly, his tongue flattening and dragging over you through the barrier.
you whimpered, your hands coming down and clutching at his hair, hips twitching forward as his mouth sucked your clit through the thin lace. the wet spot grew darker, spreading across the front of your panties until they clung to you.
you couldn’t stop the way your hips had a mind of their own—grinding against his face as he continued to press kiss after kiss. letting his tongue press against your clothed clit, the muscle moving in firm circles.
after a moment he pulled back just enough to look up at you, his lips glossy. “such a messy pussy baby..” he cooed, his right hand coming down to press against your bundle of nerves, giving a filthy little laugh at how your body jolted before diving back in.
your hand gripped his hair tighter, unsure to pull him closer or pus him away. “chris—fuck—you need to take these off of me.” you whined. you were getting desperate, wanting to feel his mouth against you bare and not through fabric.
he just hummed against you, teeth nipping your swollen bud through the soaked material. “i’ll rip ‘em off in a second,” he rasped, “but right now? i wanna ruin ‘em.”
you whined out of frustration, your head falling back against the cushion with a thud, thighs trembling as his mouth worked you through the lace. his tongue pressed harder—lips sealing over your clit, sucking until you were practically sobbing.
your panties were drenched, the fabric clinging to your folds as his saliva mixed with your arousal.
“fuck—please.” you begged. chris smirked against you at your words, letting his right hand toy with the edge of your panties.
you were too far gone to even notice when he pulled away—how he licked his lips when he looked at you before hooking his fingers to the side of the lace, pulling the fabric aside before his tongue made contact, sliding over your bare slit in one long, filthy stroke.
the sudden contact made you gasp—your body jolting, nails digging into his scalp as his mouth wrapped around your bare clit now, tongue flicking over the bud repeatedly.
“oh my god, chris—don’t stop—please don’t stop—” you cried, hips bucking into his face as the few tears on your waterline spills over, small sobs of pleasure slipping past your lips.
he groaned at the taste of you—one hand gripping your thigh tight to keep you open for him, the other pressing at your stomach to pin you to the cushion beneath you.
“thaaat’s it baby. c’mon, give it to me. cum all over my fuckin’ face.” he mumbled against your folds, his tongue gliding down and slipping inside you for a moment.
the muscle moved quick, brushing against the sensitive spots that had your eyes rolling back and mouth hung open, unable to stop the lewd noises.
his words alone had you tipping over the edge. pleasure coiled through your body, your thighs squeezing around his head as the band in your stomach snapped.
chris groaned into you—his mouth messy and relentless, letting you ride out the waves of pleasure. he only pulled away when you finally sagged against the couch, boneless and ruined.
he wiped his chin with the back of his hand, smirking up at you with swollen lips. “told you i was gonna ruin ‘em.”
strnilolover note ⋆˙⟡ . . . i’m getting rusty with my writing, help
Warnings: established relationship, unprotected sex (this is not smart! wrap it before you tap it!), pet names( ma, mama, baby), daddy kink if you squint, implications of squirting, overstimulation, maybe somnophilia if you squint extra hard??, ending is kinda ass ngl, foul language
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A/N: wrote this in one go at 2am…I waited to proofread this for ygs cause I thought it was good 🫡 let's just hope I have this type of motivation to sit my ass down and finish a kinktober fic
It’s three o’clock in the morning. You’re restless. The cars zooming down the street startle you each time you think you've settled down. Your clothes feel too suffocating. The sheets help in creating a sticky layer of sweat. But each time you kick the covers off, the goosebumps prickling on your skin are too much to bear.
You feel horrible, sure that your incessant moving would wake Chris at some point. But when you roll over and whisper his name, hovering above the side of his face, it’s clear that he’s not waking up anytime soon.
You slipped out of bed, pattering to the kitchen for a glass of water before slipping back under the covers. In the time you’d gone to the kitchen and come back, he’d rolled onto his back. You sure as hell weren’t going to sleep now.
Your eyes skimmed every feature illuminated by the moonlight. Some features seemed sharper despite his overall softness — jawline decorated with stubble, the point of his nose sculpted to perfection, his lips plump as air puffed past them.
You let your hands wander, slipping into his hair as you ushered his body closer to yours. He moved easily to your will, throwing an arm across your waist with his face flush to your chest. You pressed soft kisses to his hairline, burying your nose in the fluff of his hair while his warm breath kissed your skin.
Your restlessness grew tenfold.
Small whimpers tumbled from your mouth as his lips began pressing kisses to your chest, his mouth ghosting over your nipples. Your hips mindlessly rutted into his torso, seeking attention down below.
His eyes were shut, but he was awake enough to know what was going on.
“Chris, I can’t sleep,” you mumbled, panting into the crown of his head as his hand dropped to your thigh, caressing your skin lovingly.
“‘M super tired, ma.”
Common misconception: Chris Sturniolo would stop at nothing for sex.
You were one-thousand percent a very sexually active couple. But Chris absolutely does not play about his sleep. And you respected that.
However, the roles were hardly ever reversed. He would be the one to typically wake up in the middle of the night in search of a quick release. He wouldn’t hesitate whenever you were in search of some midnight action, but he and his brothers were extra busy, planning and traveling for some big project they had in the works.
He physically couldn’t submit himself to fucking you to sleep.
Nonetheless, he knew what you needed and who would he be to deprive you of your needs?
So now, here you were — knees digging into the mattress while grinding yourself on his cock, hands fisting the pillow under his head. He wasn’t completely unresponsive to what was going on, an occasional grunt ripping from his chest as your walls squeezed down on him.
Hot, tight, sucking him in with such ease, so perfectly. You slowly began to fuck yourself, using him like a damn toy to get yourself off.
His eyes shot open when a guttural gasp fled your mouth, your head tipped back in ecstasy as your hands now found purchase on his chest.
“Shit- fuck, baby,” he cursed, hands flying to your ass.
He squeezed ever so gently, allowing his palm to smack your skin. One hand flew to your sleep shirt, urging you to remove it with a breathy “fuck, take it off, baby.”
He leaned up just enough to capture your lips in a heated embrace, palming your tits as he brought you closer to the edge.
The air grew thick, your pants and moans heating up the atmosphere. Soon enough, his feet were planted firmly into the mattress, his hips pistoning into yours. Your moans grew more fervent, lips falling to his neck as you tugged at his already disheveled hair. His head rolled to the side, humming as you sucked deep red marks into his skin.
“Fuckin’ pussy’s squeezin’ me, baby,” he hissed, licking his lips upon your eyes meeting his. “Gonna cum all over my cock ‘nd go to sleep, right, mama? Just needed me to fuck you to sleep?”
His tone. It’s so condescending, yet it only elicits whimpers and incoherent notes of agreement.
“Uh-huh,” you babble when he tugs at your roots, pulling your head back enough for him to leave evidence of the night’s occurrences on your neck. “Needed you to fuck me to sleep so bad, daddy.”
And the nickname ignites something within him, fueling him to make sure you fall apart on his lap as a chuckle vibrates through his chest.
His hand circles your waist, dropping to your clit. The other has a firm grip on the back of your neck, slipping to make sure your eyes are stuck on his. The sounds that come from you are pornographic, your walls spasming around him as you cum with a broken cry. Your hands twist into the fabric of his shirt, tears brimming at your waterlines.
He’s not letting up.
Your lips remain parted, small pants sounding as he continues to push his cock into you. He’s cursing quietly to himself every so often, grunting when your hips start rolling again, eager to get him off.
“Want my dick that bad? Damn, baby.”
His hands fall to your ass again, smacking harder this time before pushing you further down on his cock. The sound you let out gets strangled into a scream, his tip hitting a painfully sweet spot deep inside. He does so over, and over, and over again, determined to pull another orgasm from you.
“Fuck, Chris,” your back arches, the feeling making your legs shake on either side of his waist.
Both of you are close. It’s clear in the way his hips are starting to stutter, pace growing sloppy, and in the way your legs are shaking more with each passing second.
His mouth finds yours again, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth as he watches your body convulse, legs trying to close around his torso as you cum. Hard.
A few more thrusts and the gushing of your cunt has him drawing his hips flush to yours, painting your walls with spurts of his cum. His hand is gentle as it finds your neck, softly rocking his hips to draw out the intensity of your orgasms.
Even in the late-night hues, you can still see the way his eyes flood with love and admiration.
Sure, Chris doesn’t play about his sleep. But one step above: he doesn’t play about his woman. Even if it’s the middle of the night and she needs help falling asleep.
You sat cross legged on the bed, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips as you shook the tiny bottle in your hand.
“Are we really doing this?” Matt asked, leaning in to read the label. His messy curls hung over his forehead, and the soft flush across his cheeks told you he was just as curious as you.
“Cherry lube,” you said with a grin, popping the cap. “It was either this or cotton candy.”
He raised an eyebrow. “There’s still time to make a candy run.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Nah, this’ll be fun. Taste test, remember?”
Matt climbed onto the bed with a playful growl, his hands bracing on either side of your hips as he leaned in. “Alright, baby. You taste, I taste. But fair warning, if it tastes good, I’m not stopping.”
Your heart fluttered as he kissed you, soft and slow at first, like he was savoring the moment. His hands slid beneath your shirt, lifting it over your head, followed by your bra. He sat back for a second, just looking at you, a small smirk on his lips.
“I’m gonna start here,” he murmured, uncapping the lube and squirting a small line between your breasts. The cold gel made you gasp, but he didn’t waste a second, he dipped his head and licked a long, slow stripe up the center of your chest, groaning low in his throat.
“Sweet,” he mumbled against your skin. “Like cherry candy.”
Your fingers threaded through his hair as he continued licking, kissing, tasting every inch of you. He focused on your nipples, swirling his tongue around one while his slick hand cupped the other, making your breath hitch.
“Matt,” you whined softly, arching into him.
“You like it?” he whispered, licking the sticky trail again. “Want more?”
You nodded desperately, and he kissed down your stomach, taking his time, dragging his tongue and lips across every patch of skin. He slid your shorts and panties down your legs, tossing them aside, and settled between your thighs with a wicked look in his eye.
“I think we need to test the flavour somewhere else,” he teased.
He drizzled a small bit of lube onto your inner thigh and smoothed it closer to your folds with his fingers. You gasped as the cool gel touched your already sensitive skin.
Then his tongue was on you.
It was warm, soft, and so, so slow, he licked up the lube and moved right into tasting you. The cherry flavour mixed with your arousal made him moan into your pussy, the vibrations making your thighs tremble. His tongue moved in slow circles over your clit, then flattened and pressed firmer, dragging delicious pressure over you.
“Holy shit,” you gasped, hips bucking slightly. “That-fuck, that feels good.”
Matt’s hand reached up and intertwined with yours, grounding you while he licked and sucked, taking his time, savoring every moan and twitch your body gave him.
“You taste better than the lube,” he muttered, glancing up with glazed eyes and a messy chin. “But I’m not mad at the combo.”
You laughed breathlessly, but it quickly turned into a needy moan when he latched back onto your clit, slipping two fingers inside you. He fucked you slow and deep, curling them just right while his tongue worked its magic, building a wave so strong you were panting and begging within seconds.
“I’m.. Matt, I’m gonna”
He moaned into you like he wanted you to, and that was all it took. You came hard against his mouth, your thighs squeezing around his head, back arching as pleasure rocked through you in hot, pulsing waves.
He kissed you gently through the aftershocks, and when he finally pulled back, he wiped his mouth and grinned.
“Okay,” you panted. “Your turn.”
He barely got his boxers off before you had him on his back, your thighs straddling his. You grabbed the bottle, dripping a line of the cherry lube down the length of his hard cock. His hips twitched as you wrapped your hand around him, spreading it evenly, watching the way his stomach tensed.
“You okay baby?” you asked innocently.
“Fuck yes,” he groaned.
You leaned down, licking from the base all the way to the tip, letting your tongue swirl over him, tasting the cherry and his salty arousal mixed together. You sucked just the head into your mouth, letting your hand stroke the rest as you watched his face, eyes fluttering closed, jaw slack, a desperate moan escaping his lips.
“Jesu,” he rasped, hips bucking. “Keep going, I’m not gonna last.”
You took more of him into your mouth, working your hand and lips together, watching him fall apart beneath you. He came quickly, groaning your name and gripping the sheets, his hips stuttering as you swallowed everything he gave you.
When you finally collapsed beside him, both of you sticky and spent, Matt reached over and picked up the bottle again.
“So,” he said, breathless. “What flavour are we trying next?”
You giggled, curling into his side. “Definitely cotton candy.”
“Let’s go shower all the stickyness off baby” Matt laughed.
matt didn’t have to be told anything, he just did it. he cleaned without being asked, went grocery shopping, and kissed the ground you walked on. he would do anything for you. anything you asked and he was first in line.
you meant it as a joke at first, saying: “matt basically kisses my feet.” but then was quickly thrown off when matt slowly got to his knees after a party, lifting up your long black dress slightly so he could see the heels, looking up at you before bending down and kissing your feet gently.
and no. no way were you into this at all. but the way matt looked at you, on his knees, mouth open, hair messy, and neck tie loosened, you couldn’t help but be breathless. heat shot all the way down to your core.
he lifted up you dress, his head disappeared under it. he picked up one leg, resting it on his shoulder as he moved your panties to the side, mouth attaching to your aching bud. you moaned and threw your head back, grabbing his head through your silky dress.
“matt..” you moaned as he went at it like he had a mission, like he was trying to prove something. but he was trying to prove something. he was trying to prove how much he yearned for you, how much power you had over him. so if that means getting down on his knees and kissing the ground you walk on? kissing your hardworking feet? oh, he would and with pleasure.
your body moved in waves, back arching off of nothing as your hand met the wall behind matt, jerking forward, but matt didn’t stop his pace, going so perfectly. and you came so hard, your eyes crossed.
matt moved himself out from under your dress and bit his lip, looking up at you. “yea,” he said, his hands shaking. “i would kiss the ground you walk on, baby.”
you nodded. “do it.”
matt smirked as he brought his hand to his lips, kissing his hand gently before placing it on the ground. then he stood up and pushed you on the couch, him moving the dress quickly out of his way. he pulled your panties off, them hanging from one of your ankles as he quickly made work of his tongue again.
you automatically grabbed his hair, gripping it so hard that matt thought you were gonna pull out some strands, and shit, you probably did, but he didn’t care. you thought he needed this more than you did.
your whole body started shaking as your orgasm quickly came upon you. your legs started closing around his head as he wouldn’t pull away, just kept his mouth on your cunt like he was talking a foreign language.
“god, matt,” you said, twitching, “it’s too much.”
he pulled back, looking at you. “lemme show you how much you need this.”
꩜warnings- use of a ball gag(obvs). smut. unprotected p in v. overstimulation. established relationship. pet names (mama, sweet boy, baby, etc.)
Chris was a mess.
Arms pinned to the bed, wrists twisting in the sheets, head thrown back into the pillow as you rode him with slow, deliberate rolls of your hips.
It was almost mean—the way you moved. Not hard or fast. Just deep. Slow. Controlled. Measured in a way that made him twitch with every grind, every time your walls clenched around him.
“F-fuck—ahhh, god, m-mama, please—” he choked out, voice cracking, legs trembling under you.
You shushed him softly, brushing damp curls off his forehead. “Chris,” you said calmly. “I told you to be quiet.”
He whimpered, hips bucking helplessly beneath you. “I can’t—feels too good—oh my god—”
His voice was too loud. High and desperate and so whiny.
You tilted your head, listening for a moment—the distant creak of footsteps upstairs. Two voices, Matt and Nick.
Chris heard it too. His wide eyes snapped to yours, panic flickering across his flushed face. But still, he couldn’t stop the sounds spilling from his mouth.
“No,” he whined instantly, shaking his head weakly. “Don—don’t—I can be quiet—please—”
You slowly pull out the black silicone gag with small leather bows on each side, holding it up with a little smirk. “You said that five minutes ago, baby.”
“Please,” he begged again, voice cracking with how close he was to crying. “Wan’ talk t’you—wan-wanna tell you how good you feel—nngh n-need to—!”
You leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I know, sweetheart,” you whispered. “You can tell me later. Right now, you need to be quiet.”
He whimpered, breath stuttering—but when you brought the gag to his lips, he opened for you.
You slid it in carefully, buckling it behind his head and and adjusting it. Chris moaned the second it settled into place. His hands flexed in the sheets like he didn’t know what to do with the way it made him feel.
“Good boy,” you murmured, stroking his jaw. “Look at you. So pretty with your mouth full.”
He whimpered through the gag—loud, broken, now more muffled— perfect.
You rocked your hips down again, slow and deep, and Chris arched beneath you, thighs jerking. The moan that tore out of his throat was muffled by the silicone but still wild.
“Can’t even think, can you?” you whispered, riding him again, your hands braced on his chest. “All it takes is my pussy and you forget how to behave.”
Chris sobbed into the gag, and you felt him throb inside you. His eyes were glassy, rolling back, jaw clenched around the gag as he tried to hold on—but he was already too close.
You leaned in, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You gonna cum for me like this sweet boy?”
He nodded frantically. Tears falling from the corners of his eyes.
“Then cum, baby,” you purred. “Cum for me.”
Chris shattered— his whole body locked under you, legs shaking violently as he came deep inside you with a muffled, desperate cry. The gag soaked in drool as he sobbed through it, every nerve in his body overwhelmed. He kept twitching, too sensitive— but you didn’t stop. You kept moving—slow, steady, riding through it because you weren’t done yet.
He was shaking. Falling apart beneath you. Whimpering into the gag like he needed it, like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
“Shhh,” you whispered sweetly, your own orgasm building slowly in your stomach. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. J-just a little more.”
Chris whimpered louder, eyes fluttering, but he didn’t tell you to stop. He couldn’t, but he also didn’t want to.
You shifted your hips just right—angled down—and gasped softly when your clit dragged perfectly against the base of him. Your thighs started to tremble.
“Fuck—omyGod—Chris—” you whimpered, your head falling forward, bracing yourself on his chest.
The pressure kept building, and Chris reached blindly for your hips, wanting to help you finish— but you grabbed his hands and laced your fingers with his, pinning them above his head.
“I’ve got myself baby,” you whispered. “You just stay still and take it.”
It only took a few more deep rolls of your hips before it hit—sharp pleasure rushing from your core as your orgasm tore through you. You moaned out loud, thighs locking around his waist, grinding through it with slow, intense shakes.
Chris was wide-eyed, watching you fall apart above him. He whimpered like he wanted to say your name— tell you thank you— but he couldn’t.
You collapsed against his chest, both of you soaked in sweat, breathing hard.
You let him breathe there for a second—then reached up gently and unbuckled the gag.
The second it popped free, Chris gasped for air, then whined your name like it was a sob.
You cupped his face. “Hey. I got you.”
He blinked up at you, overwhelmed, tears in the corners of his eyes. “F-felt so good,” he whispered.
“I know, baby. You did perfect,” you said softly, kissing his cheek.
there are quite a few more blogs from the taglist that aren’t allowing to be tagged, so if any of those users r yours and you’ve changed to a different one pls lmk so I can update!!
DAY TWO… MYSTIC FALLS ft. vampire boyfriend .ᐟ Matt
꩜warnings- none, just vv fluffy ☺️☺️
Matt had been keeping secrets.
For weeks, he brushed off every question with maddening smirks and vague promises. “You’ll love it, sweetheart.” He’d say, “It’s a surprise.” He even packed your suitcase himself—something he never did—refusing to let you check inside.
By the time you’re sitting on the plane beside him, Boston far behind you from where you’d been for a few weeks home visiting his family, you’re practically vibrating with anticipation— he wouldn’t even let you see where the flight was to, covering your ears when they called out for it and making you look down whilst boarding.
“Matthew Sturniolo,” you hiss, poking his side, “if you don’t tell me where we’re going right now, I swear—”
“Relax, angel.” His cool hand slides over yours, grounding, reassuring. He doesn’t even look away from the window, just grins faintly. “You’ll thank me when we land.”
And hours later, when the car he rented rolls through a small southern town, you’re about to explode. The streets are lined with autumn colors—burnt orange leaves fluttering down, sunlight filtering soft through old oaks. The town square comes into view, charming and alive, the clock tower presiding over red brick sidewalks.
Your eyes land on a sign as you drive past. Covington, Georgia. Your breath catches.
You know that name. You’ve known it for years. Because it isn’t just Covington—it’s Mystic Falls.
“No. No way.” You whip toward Matt, your voice breaking into a shriek. “Matt! Are you serious?! We’re—oh my god—we’re in Mystic Falls!”
His smug grin is instant. “Happy early Halloween, angel.”
You clap a hand over your mouth, tears stinging your eyes as you half laugh, half squeal. “Matthew, I—are you kidding me?! I’ve wanted to come here since I was like fourteen!”
“I know,” he says softly, pulling the car over by the square. “That’s why we’re here.”
The second you’re out of the car, you’re running ahead, dragging him by the hand like an excited kid. You spin in the middle of the square, taking it all in—the gazebo strung with fairy lights, the shops, the Mystic Grill sitting on the corner— it genuinely feels like a dream.
Matt just watches you, arms folded loosely across his chest, fangs glinting when he smiles. Your joy is more than worth the plane ride he had dreaded.
“Okay,” you pant, catching your breath, “first stop—the Mystic Grill? I’m hungry.”
And you do. He holds your hand across the table while you practically vibrate in your seat, snapping photos of everything—the menus, the brick walls, the upstairs balcony where so many scenes were filmed.
“Do you realize Nina Dobrev has literally been here? I’m sitting in the same space Nina Dobrev has sat at.” you whisper, starry-eyed.
Matt smirks. “You ever think you’d be here with an actual vampire?”
You smile softly, “No, but this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever done in my entire life, Matt.”
After lunch, the tour continues. He takes you to the clock tower—the one that looms in the background of nearly every scene. You stand on the steps, clinging to Matt’s arm, whispering about all the moments filmed there.
From there, you walk to the Lockwood Mansion. The sprawling estate is open for tours, and you nearly burst into tears seeing the grand staircase and chandeliers. “Matt, this is where they had all the parties—oh my god—this is where Tyler—”
You ramble nonstop, and he drinks in every word, his immortal memory cataloging each detail of your excitement.
Then he drives you to the Gilbert House, white and timeless, sitting on its quiet street like it was plucked straight out of the show. You grip the fence, staring in awe. “This feels unreal. Like, Elena literally walked out that door.”
Matt comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, chin settling on your shoulder. “And now you’re standing here, sweetheart. Pretty surreal, huh?”
You nod quickly, blinking away overwhelmed tears. This had been a spot you’d wanted to visit since you were just a young teenager, the show having been your favorite for as long as you could possibly remember.
Next stop—Wickery Bridge. The drive out there feels haunting, the road narrowing beneath overhanging trees until the wooden bridge appears. It’s beautiful in the afternoon light, but it sends a shiver down your spine knowing what it represents in the show.
“This is insane,” you whisper, stepping onto the bridge. You glance back at Matt, grinning. “Promise you won’t drive us off?”
He laughs, slipping his hand into yours. “Not a chance.”
The last place he takes you is the Old Cemetery. The Spanish moss sways gently from ancient trees, headstones scattered across the grounds. You pause at the entrance, goosebumps rising.
Matt squeezes your hand, his expression soft. “It’s quite fitting, isn’t it? A vampire bringing his girl to a cemetery.”
You elbow him, though it is quite ironic.
By sunset, the two of you return to the square, the string lights flickering on above the gazebo. The air is crisp, carrying the smell of leaves and distant bonfires. You settle into the gazebo, curling into Matt’s side while he strokes his thumb over your hand.
“You know,” you murmur, tilting your head up at him, “teenage me would never believe this. That I’d actually make it to Mystic Falls… and that I’d be here with my boyfriend, who’s like the real life Damon Salvatore.”
Matt chuckles, kissing your hairline. “Better than Damon?”
“Oh way better than Damon,” you whisper without hesitation.
He tilts your chin up, kissing you slow, deep, with centuries of patience and love. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his fangs just barely grazing his lip.
“Happy fall, angel,” he murmurs. “Thanks for letting me make your dream real.”
Mystic Falls isn’t just a place on a screen, It’s alive. Because you’re here, and Matts here, and he made all of it happen.
A/N— guys I’m awful at writing fluff please excuse this (I’ll make it up with tmr’s smut ☺️)
꩜warnings- dacryphilia(obvs). smut. unprotected p in v. fingering. pet names(sweet girl, sweetheart, baby, etc..).
a/n— kinktober day 1, enjoy mwah!!💋
You’re curled up against Matt on his bed, the familiar warmth of his hoodie brushing your cheek. His room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of a lamp on the dresser. It’s quiet, but a comfortable quiet.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning close enough that you feel his lips brush your ear. “You’ve been squirming all night. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
Your throat goes dry. You hadn’t even notice the subtle movements you’d been making for who knows how long. You bite your lip, eyes flicking down, now shy under his steady gaze.
Matt tilts your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Hm? You gonna tell me, or do I have to make you?” His tone is soft, teasing, but you can tell he’s being serious.
“I jus’ want you,” you admit quietly, cheeks hot.
That pulls a soft smile onto his lips. “Yeah? Need me to take care of you baby?” He shifts, rolling you onto your back so he’s above you. His knee presses between your thighs, spreading you easily. “I’ll give you what you need. But you’re gonna listen to me. Understand?”
You nod quickly, thighs squeezing together at his tone. “Yes, Matt.”
“Good girl.”
His mouth meets yours in a slow, heated kiss— leaving you breathless almost immediately. His hand slides under your shirt, fingertips brushing your stomach before cupping your breast, thumb circling over your nipple, causing you to whimper into his mouth. He breaks the kiss just to watch you squirm.
“That’s it, angel,” he praises, voice low. “Already so worked up. You like when I touch you?”
“Yes,” you whisper, body arching up for more.
Matt chuckles softly, tugging your shirt up and off. His lips trail down your neck, pulling another gasp as he bites down gently on the skin. His other hand slips under your shorts, fingers stroking over your panties, finding the damp spot already spreading.
“Fuck… look at you,” he breathes, his voice rough with something dark. “So wet for me, sweetheart. What d’you want first?”
“Y-your fingers,” you stammer, face burning.
“Good choice,” he smirks, sliding your shorts and panties down in one smooth motion. He spreads your thighs wide, settling between them. His eyes darken as he looks at you, spread open on his sheets. “So pretty like this, baby.”
He moves his hand up, two fingers finding your clit and circling, causing your hips to jerk up before— without warning—he sinks them deep inside you, curling perfectly against that spot that makes your eyes roll back.
A moan spills out, needy and unrestrained.
“Look at me,” Matt orders gently, leaning close, his thumb stroking over your cheek as his fingers thrust deep inside you. “Wanna to see those pretty eyes while I make you feel good.”
You try, but it’s overwhelming—his pace is steady, relentless, every curl of his fingers wringing another moan from your chest. Your eyes blur, tears threatening as the pressure builds fast.
“Shhh, s’okay,” Matt soothes when he notices. His tone doesn’t soften his hand, though. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing firm circles. “You don’t need to hide it from me. Let me see those tears, angel.”
A sob breaks free, your face scrunching as tears spill down your temples. It only makes his eyes darken more, his jaw tight with restraint.
“There she is,” he murmurs, kissing a tear from your cheek while his fingers keep driving into you. “My sweet girl, crying so pretty for me. Feels good?”
“Yes—yes, Matt—” your voice cracks, shaky from pleasure.
“That’s my good girl,” he praises softly. “You’re gonna cum for me like this, yeah? With those pretty tears all over your cheeks, you’ve got it baby.”
The sound of his voice, the warmth of his body over yours, the way he controls every movement—it breaks you. You choke out a cry as your orgasm washes over you, clenching around his fingers, thighs trembling. Tears spill freely now, and Matt watches every second with a satisfied grin.
He eases you through it, slowing his pace but not pulling away, his free hand stroking your hair. “That’s it, sweetheart. You did so good for me. So beautiful when you cry.”
When you finally collapse against the sheets, panting, Matt kisses you softly, tender in the aftershock. His thumb brushes away your tears.
“Don’t think m’done with you yet,” he whispers against your lips, smirk curling.
He pulls his fingers from you slowly, coated in your slick, and brings them to your lips. “Open.”
You obey, tongue flicking out as he pushes his fingers past your lips. The taste of yourself spreads on your tongue, and Matt watches with dark eyes as you suck for him.
“Good girl,” he praises, sliding them free with a wet sound before leaning in to kiss you deep, messy, his tongue demanding.
He strips off his shirt and pushes his sweats down, his cock heavy and hard in his fist as he strokes it slowly. Your stomach flips at the sight—thick and flushed, his tip red and leaking. You whimper, thighs trembling with need.
Matt smirks. “That desperate already, sweetheart? Look at you… tears still on your cheeks and you’re begging for more.” He climbs between your legs, lining himself up, and presses the tip against your soaked entrance. “Breathe f’me.”
You nod, but when he pushes in, stretching you wide, your mouth falls open on a broken moan.
“That’s it,” he groans, bottoming out slowly until his hips are flush with yours. He drops his forehead to yours, brushing his thumb over your lips. “Tight fuckin’ pussy always takes me so good. She was made f’me.”
He pulls back and thrusts in again, setting a steady, deep rhythm that has your body arching helplessly. Each stroke hits perfectly, dragging along your already sensitive walls as your hands claw at the sheets before pulling up to your face, covering in embarrassment— which he didn’t like one bit.
Matt grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head against the mattress with one hand. “No hiding from me,” he murmurs, thrusting harder. “I wanna see everything. Every tear. Every sound. Give it t’me.”
The pressure builds fast, your body already sensitive from his fingers earlier. Tears spring fresh in your eyes as you moan louder, overwhelmed by the fullness, by him.
Matt notices, moving his free hand up to stroke your cheek tenderly, contrasting the sharp snap of his hips. “That’s my girl,” he whispers, voice low and proud. “Crying so pretty. You love it, don’t you baby?”
“Yes, Matt—” your voice cracks, sob spilling out as your body trembles beneath him.
“Good girl,” he praises, his thrusts never faltering. “Take it all for me. You’re so perfect like this, angel, tears all over your pretty face while you squeezin’ my cock so good.”
He fucks you harder, hips slamming against yours, your sobs mixing with the slick sound of him driving into you. He kisses the tears from your cheeks, groaning into your mouth as you clench tighter.
“Cum for me again baby,” he orders softly. “Let go, sweetheart. I want it all”
Your orgasm crashes over you, violent and overwhelming. You sob against his lips, body shaking, tears streaming freely as you come undone around him. Matt fucks you through it, holding your wrists tight, groaning at how you pulse around him.
“That’s it, angel,” he growls, dropping his forehead to yours. “So good for me. So fucking good.”
He thrusts a few more times— hips stuttering as he groans, spilling deep inside you, hips pressing hard against yours to bury himself fully. His grip on you softens as he pants against your mouth, kissing you slow and messy.
When he finally pulls back to look at you, tears still glisten on your cheeks, and he brushes them away gently with his thumb.
“My perfect girl,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your damp eyes. “So beautiful when you cry for me.”
