moon🌙

22|blk|she/her

[mooooncore]

°❀⋆ .ೃ࿔*:･࣪ ִֶָ☾..๋࣭ಣ𓈒ֵ۫ ࿔*:･°❀⋆ .ೃ࿔*:･࣪ ִֶָ☾..๋࣭ಣ𓈒ֵ۫ ࿔

｡ ׁ ༷ moona 03’ liner 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ .ᐟ.ᐟ ꒰ ┆ she/her ₊˚ ࣪⊹˚.. ۫ ꒱

┆⤷ this blog will be used for 18+ fics minors dni

┆⤷ i am black and write with black readers in mind, any use of the n word will be put in the description.

┆⤷ i write for twitch streamers, youtubers, celebrities

┆⤷ masterlist below ⬇️

┆⤷ twitch streamers x reader⬇️

❀ jason the ween:

- or what

❀ ishowspeed

- princess going digital

┆⤷ youtuber x reader⬇️

❀

┆⤷ celebrity x reader ⬇️

❀

[mooooncore]

Fisherrr

Content: Silky x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ minors dni, p in v, irl stream, dirty talk

Wc: 1k+

The energy in the Core house was pure chaos—neon LEDs bleeding into the walls, the constant roar of shouting gamers, and the smell of expensive cologne and energy drinks. You were just tagging along with your friend, leaning back against an oversized sofa. As you shifted, the fabric of your leggings strained, stretching tight over the wide, soft curve of your hips. Your thighs pressed firmly together, spilling over the edges of the cushion, and every time you laughed, the soft swell of your stomach pushed against the hem of your cropped tee, creating a silhouette that had half the room distracted.

You weren't trying to be the center of attention, but you carried yourself with a natural, feminine grace, your long lashes fluttering as you whispered a joke to your friend.

That’s when Silky locked eyes with you. He was a taller man, ink crawling up his neck and had diamond grills that flashed every time he smirked. He didn't just look at you; he studied you, his gaze lingering on the way your curves filled out that sofa.

"Wait, hold up," Silky said, stepping into your space, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble. "You from the towns? Allat energy loud as fuck."

You tilted your head, giving him a sassy lil side-eye glance, a small, cute smile playing on your lips. "Brooklyn born and raised, baby. Don't let cute face fool you; I'm really from the trenches."

Silky let out a low chuckle, his eyes darkening. "I see you. You got that vibe. I'm from the towns too, so I know exactly what I'm lookin' at."

Nearby, another streamer was leaning back, his clip-on mic practically touching his lips as he whispered to his chat, "Chat, y'all see that thick shyit right there? On god, she bad as hell. Look at the hips on her."

You didn't even give him a glance. You were too busy feeling the heat radiating off Silky. The tension between you two was a slow burn. Every time your eyes met, it felt like a conversation without words. He’d lean in just a bit too close, the scent of his cologne mixing with the energy in the room, his gaze dropping to your lips and then back up.

By the time the stream ended and the house began to quiet down, the tension had reached a breaking point. You were heading toward the door when Silky caught your wrist, his grip firm but gentle.

"You really leavin' already?" he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "I ain't even get to know you properly."

You arched a brow, playing it cool despite the way your heart was hammering against your ribs. "And how you plan on doin' that, Pa?"

He didn't answer with words. He just led you back toward one of the massive bedrooms, the door clicking shut behind you, sealing out the rest of the world.

The pace slowed down. He didn't rush. He backed you up against the edge of the bed, his large hands sliding down to grip your waist. His fingers sank deep into the plush, soft flesh of your hips, squeezing the fullness of you. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

"You so fucking fine," he groaned. "I been on your body since you walked in the door."

He pressed you back onto the mattress, your body sinking deep into the memory foam. He stripped you slowly, his eyes devouring every inch of your skin, admiring the way your breasts spilled over and the soft, inviting curve of your belly. He slid down, parting your legs wide, his hands kneading your thick thighs.

When he dove between them, you gasped, your fingers digging into the sheets. The first touch of his tongue was electric, but then you felt the cold, hard press of his diamond grills against your clit. The contrast was insane: the texture of diamonds on the grills against your warm pussy, followed by the wet, hot slide of his tongue.

"Fuck, Silky!" you cried out, your back arching, your heavy breasts bouncing with every shudder. He was eating you out with a hunger that felt desperate, his tongue swirling and probing while the grills scraped lightly against you, driving you absolutely wild.

He didn't let you recover. He stood up, stripping quickly to reveal a thick, heavy dick that looked like it belonged in a movie. He flipped you over, pushing your face into the pillows and hoisting your wide ass up in the air, the view making him groan.

He entered you in one heavy, seamless thrust, a loud slap echoing through the room as his pelvis collided with your plush cheeks.

"Yeah, take allat, ma," he groaned, his voice dripping with grit. "You so fucking thick, I can't even get all the way in. You tight as hell."

He started hammering into you, deep, rhythmic backshots that made the whole bed shake. You were gasping, your voice strained as he hit your cervix with every plunge. The intensity was overwhelming; he was treating you like a meal, relentless and powerful.

"Pa! Wait—'s too much!" you screamed into the pillow, your voice cracking. "Take some out, Pa! Why you fucking me like this?!"

Silky didn't slow down; if anything, he gripped your hips tighter, his fingers leaving marks on your skin as he drove his dick deeper, claiming every inch of you. "Shut up and take it. I told you I wanted this. You mine right now, you hear me?"

"I can't take it, Pa! Please!" you wailed, trying to crawl forward, trying to escape the sheer force of him.

He reached forward, grabbing your hair gently but firmly to pull your head back, forcing you to look at him over your shoulder. "You ain't goin' nowhere. Just ride it out, baby. I'm bout to blow."

He let out a loud groan, his pace becoming frantic, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room. With one final, deep plunge, he groaned your name, filling you up with a hot, pulsing load that left you shaking and breathless, completely spent under the weight of him.

[mooooncore]

Look Ma No Hands

Content: El Fanum x Plus Size Fem! Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, streamer university, pwp, p in v, irl stream

Wc: 1.2k+

The campus air was thick with the energy of the 2026 Streamer University semester, but you weren't feeling the vibes. You knew someone had snitched on you for having a gel blaster in the dorms. You weren't about to admit it, even though you definitely had it, but the heat was on.

Fanum, the university "cop," was on a warpath. He was rolling with his crew, cameras trailing behind them for the stream, turning the hunt for the "contraband" into a full-blown event. You were tucked away in a corner, completely locked into your own chat on your phone, laughing at a meme and oblivious to the danger.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over you. You looked up and locked eyes with Fanum. He had that look on his face—that "I caught you slippin'" grin.

"Aight, now we got 'em!" Fanum shouted, his voice booming.

Panic spiked, and you bolted. You led him on a chase through the halls, your heart hammering against your ribs. Eventually, you hit a dead end, and Fanum cornered you, breathing hard but looking smug. As he started lecturing you about the rules and the "crime" you committed, you decided to change the energy.

You stepped closer, closing the gap until you could smell his cologne. You reached up, your fingers grazing the coarse hair of his beard, scratching it lightly while your eyes dropped to his lips. You weren't listening to a word he was saying; you were just letting him know exactly what was on your mind.

Fanum paused, his voice trailing off as he looked down at you, his expression shifting from authority to genuine interest. But just as the tension peaked, you gave him a playful wink and darted away again, leaving him stunned in the hallway.

The game of cat and mouse didn't last long. Fanum eventually caught up to you, gripping your arm and hauling you back to the little makeshift holding office. He made you stand against the wall for a mugshot, the camera flashing while he teased you about your "criminal record."

"You ain't leaving this office until you make it right," Fanum declared, leaning back in his chair.

You smirked, knowing exactly how to play this. "I'll get out, but you gotta play good tunes."

Fanum chuckled and queued up “no hands”. As the beat dropped, you started off subtle, hitting a clean 8-count, your movements sharp and synchronized. But then, you shifted. You turned around, dropping low and starting to dance right on him.

The room exploded. His boys were screaming, hyping you up, and the chat was moving so fast it was a blur of fire emojis. The cameraman was a real one, tilting the lens up just enough to keep it suggestive but not fully explicit, though Fanum had a front-row seat to all that ass. He wasn't even pretending to be a cop anymore; he was just staring, completely mesmerized by the way you moved.

When the song ended, you stood up, breathless and glowing. You leaned in and whispered your number into his ear, a bold move that left him speechless.

"You good to go," he muttered, his voice deeper than before.

As you walked toward the door, you felt a firm, heavy hand smack your ass, the sound echoing in the small office.

"Don't let me catch you with no more toys," he called out with a laugh, though you both knew he was already planning on calling that number.

It didn't take long for Fanum to hit you up. A few hours after you left the office, your phone buzzed with a text: “Slide back to the precinct. I need to ‘interrogate’ you some more.”

You knew exactly what that meant. You made your way back to the makeshift precinct just as the dinner rush hit. The dining hall was packed with students and streamers, the noise of a hundred conversations echoing through the halls, leaving the office area eerily quiet and empty.

The moment you stepped inside and closed the door, Fanum didn't even let you speak. He grabbed you by the waist, pulling you flush against him. He smelled like expensive cologne and hunger.

"You think you real slick, huh?" he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. "Giving me your number and leaving me thinking about that ass all afternoon."

You didn't answer with words. You just smirked and backed yourself up against his heavy wooden desk, feeling the cold surface against your thighs. Fanum groaned, his hands sliding down to grip your hips with a bruising intensity. He didn't even bother taking his clothes off; the urgency was too high. He just reached down, unzipping his pants and freeing his thick, heavy dick.

He spun you around in one fluid motion, slamming your chest down onto the desk. Your breath hitched as your cheek pressed against the wood, your hips arched up instinctively.

"Aight, let's see if you can handle this," he grunted.

He didn't waste time with foreplay. He lined himself up and drove deep into you with one powerful thrust. You let out a loud, sharp moan that echoed in the small room, your fingers clawing at the edge of the desk. He was huge, filling you completely, and the friction of his uniform pants rubbing against your skin only added to the heat.

Fanum started hammering into you, delivering heavy, rhythmic back shots that made the desk slide a few inches across the floor.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound of his pelvis slamming against your ass was loud, matching the frantic pace of his breathing.

You were soaking wet, your pussy clamping down on his dick with every thrust. The friction and the intensity created a loud, squelching sound—a wet, sloppy noise that filled the silence of the office. With every deep plunge, the excess lubrication splashed, dripping down your thighs and soaking into the fabric of his pants.

"Damn, you're soaking," Fanum gasped, his voice strained as he picked up the speed. "You really wanted this, didn't you?"

He didn't wait for an answer, his movements becoming more primal. He was hitting your cervix with every stroke, driving you toward the edge. You could feel the wetness pooling beneath you, dripping off the edge of the desk and splashing onto the linoleum floor in a messy, glistening puddle.

The contrast of the quiet precinct and the raw, loud sounds of your bodies colliding was intoxicating. You were shaking, your toes curling as you felt his dick twitch inside you. He let out a low, guttural growl, gripping your hips so hard he'd leave marks, and delivered a few final, devastating thrusts.

Fanum groaned loudly, his body tensing as he came deep inside you, the force of his orgasm sending a shudder through both of your frames. He stayed buried in you for a moment, breathing hard against your neck, while the wet mess of your combined fluids continued to drip onto the floor.

He slowly pulled out with a loud, wet pop, looking down at the soaked patch on his trousers and the puddle on the floor. He chuckled, a smug grin returning to his face.

"You a menace ma’ ," he whispered, glancing toward the door to make sure the dining hall crowd was still occupied before he started cleaning up.

[mooooncore]

Speedy Recovery

Content: yourRAGE x fem! reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, p in v, wheelchair sex (lmao), dirty talk, flirting, irl stream.

Wc: 1.5k

The energy was completely different today. Instead of being boxed into gaming chairs, Rage had invited you over to his place for a full-blown IRL stream. He was feeling bold, wanting to get some fresh air and interact with the chat in a more dynamic way. He had his phone on a gimbal and clip-on mics attached to both of your shirts, broadcasting every laugh and every roast to thousands of live viewers.

"Y'all see this shit?" Rage yelled into the camera, grinning as you pushed him down the sidewalk in his wheelchair. "I got a personal chauffeur! Look at the service! Five stars!"

You laughed, leaning over him as you pushed. "Keep talking and I'm gonna leave you in a ditch, Rage. Be grateful I'm even taking you outside."

The chat was scrolling at a breakneck pace, with people losing it over the chemistry. 'They're actually goals,' one comment read, while another spammed 'Rage really got a driver lol.'

Feeling playful, you slowed down and leaned forward, pressing your breasts firmly against the back of his head and shoulders as you peered over him to look at the camera. You could feel the heat of his scalp against your chest, and you knew exactly how it felt from his perspective.

Rage stiffened for a split second, his breath hitching, but he played it off for the stream. He looked back at the camera and stuck his tongue out, making a goofy, exaggerated face that had the chat exploding with 'LUL' and 'HE KNOWS.'

"You're so annoying!" he barked, though the smirk on his face told a different story. "Get off me, you're blocking the view!"

"The view is great right here," you teased, giving his shoulder a little squeeze before straightening up and continuing to push him down the street.

Later, the two of you had headed back inside to his living room to do a Q&A session. He was parked in the center of the room, and you were standing right beside him, leaning in close. The lighting was soft, and the vibe had shifted from chaotic to something more intimate, though the stream was still very much live.

As you read a donation on the screen, you leaned down, your lips almost brushing the shell of his ear. You whispered something low and filthy—a detailed promise of exactly what you were going to do to him the second the "End Stream" button was clicked.

Because of the angle and the way you shielded your mouth with your hand, the clip-on mics didn't pick up the words; all the audience heard was a low, indistinct mumble and a soft, sultry hum.

As you whispered, you let your hand slide slowly down his chest, your fingers grazing the fabric of his shirt, tracing the hard lines of his pectorals. You felt his chest heave under your palm, his heart beginning to race.

Rage cleared his throat loudly, his eyes glazing over for a moment as he looked up at you. He looked completely caught off guard, his usual bravado momentarily shaken.

"Uh... yeah," Rage stammered, trying to refocus on the camera. "Anyway, like I was saying, the physical therapy is... uh... it's going great. Really feeling the progress."

The chat immediately noticed the shift. 'Wait, what did she say?' 'Rage is buffering!' 'Look at his face, he's cooked!'

You pulled back with a triumphant smirk, your hand lingering on his chest for one last second before you stepped away. You knew exactly what you were doing to him, and the fact that thousands of people were watching him struggle to keep his composure only made it hotter.

"You okay, Rage?" you asked innocently, your voice dripping with mischief. "You seem a little distracted."

"Shut up," he grumbled, though he was looking at you with a hunger that was barely concealed. "Just... shut the fuck up and read the next donation."

——-

The second the "End Stream" button clicked, the atmosphere in the room shifted from playful performance to raw, suffocating tension. Rage didn't even wait for you to move away; he reached out, grabbing your waist and pulling you sharply toward him. The wheelchair creaked under the sudden movement, but he didn't care.

"You think you're real funny, huh?" he growled, his voice dropping an octave, losing the streamer persona and replacing it with a hunger that made your stomach flip. "Pressing your tits against my head in front of thirty thousand people? Whispering that shit in my ear while I'm trying to talk about physical therapy?"

You smirked, sliding your hands up his chest. "You seemed to enjoy it, Rage. You were buffering. Chat saw you shaking and shit."

"I was shaking because I wanted to rip those clothes off you right there on the sidewalk," he muttered, his grip tightening on your hips. He shifted his position in the chair, leaning back slightly to make room. "Get over here. Now."

You moved between his legs, your movements slow and deliberate. You were acutely aware of his knees, the surgical sites still healing, and you didn't want to cause him any pain. You reached down, helping him slide his pants and boxers down, and as soon as he was free, his massive, dark dick sprang forward, already rock hard and pulsing. It was thick, heavy, and glistening, a sight that always made your breath hitch.

"Careful with the legs, baby," he murmured, his voice softening just a fraction as he looked up at you.

"I got you," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. You positioned yourself over him, hovering just above his lap. You lowered yourself slowly, feeling the broad head of his dick press against your opening. You gasped, the sheer size of him stretching you immediately.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Rage groaned, his head hitting the back of the wheelchair as he looked up at you with hooded eyes. "Just slide down... slow. Tell me if I'm in the way."

"You're perfect," you breathed, slowly sinking down. You focused on your balance, keeping your weight centered so you didn't put pressure on his knees. As you took more of him, your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling of him filling every inch of you sending sparks through your nerves. "Oh god, Rage... you're so fucking big."

"Take it all, mama," he commanded, his hands moving from your waist to your thighs, guiding you. "Don't stop. I wanna feel every bit of you."

You let out a long, shaky moan as you finally bottomed out, your pelvis pressing firmly against his lap. You stayed there for a moment, just breathing, feeling the heat radiating between your bodies. Then, you began to move, lifting yourself up and sliding back down in a slow, grinding rhythm.

"Yeah... just like that," Josh hissed, his fingers digging into your skin. "You like riding me in this chair? we was just live five minutes ago."

"I love it," you gasped, picking up the pace. The friction was intense, the thick length of his dick hitting your sweet spot with every descent. "I love knowing you were thinking about this the whole time.

Rage’s breath was coming in heavy rags now. He shifted his hips upward, meeting your descent with a powerful thrust that nearly knocked the wind out of you.

"Stand on them toes, mama!" he said, his voice returning to that commanding tone. "Lift up higher. I want to bury this dick in your throat. Ain't no tapping out now."

You obeyed, pushing yourself up on your tiptoes, arching your back as you descended again. The change in angle allowed him to go even deeper, his dick slamming into your cervix.

"It's too muchhhh!" you cried out, your voice echoing in the room. You were shaking, your muscles tightening around him, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable. "Josh, please... it's too much!"

"It's exactly enough," he groaned, his thrusts becoming faster, more urgent. He wasn't holding back anymore, the wheelchair rattling with the force of his movements. "You wanted this. You teased me all day. Now take it!"

You were lost in it, your head tossing back, your breasts bouncing with every heavy hit. You could feel the build-up, the pressure in your core reaching a breaking point. You leaned forward, gripping his shoulders for support, your voice a desperate plea.

"Give me that fucking nut, Pa’! "

Rage let out a loud groan, his body stiffening as he delivered one final, deep thrust that seemed to reach your very soul. He surged inside you, his dick pulsing violently as he unloaded a massive load of hot cum deep into your womb. You screamed, your own orgasm crashing over you in waves, clamping down on him as you collapsed against his chest.

For several minutes, the only sound in the room was the heavy, synchronized panting of two exhausted people. You stayed draped over him, your heart hammering against his ribs.

Rage let out a low, satisfied chuckle, his hand rubbing your back. "Now that... that was a successful collab."

“Boy don’t call me no damn collab” you said while you hit his arm.

[mooooncore]

Trippin on a Yacht Ch.2

Content: plaqueboy max x fem! reader

Warning: 18+ minors dni, yatch, heavy make out, possessive reader, situationship, no hard feeling towards anyone fr, irl stream

Wc: 900

ch 1. Here

You and Max walk back out onto the deck, the humid Miami air hitting you as you slide your shorts back into place. Silky is still laughing, shaking his head as he leads the way back to the main group. You’re flushed, your lips swollen from Max’s mouth, and you can still feel the wetness between your thighs from where his fingers were just buried.

The moment you step back into the party, you spot her. She’s standing there, looking smug, probably wondering where the fuck you two disappeared to. You narrow your eyes, keeping a hawk-like gaze on her. Every time she tries to drift toward Max, you shift your body, cutting her off or leaning into him to remind her exactly who he belongs to.

Max isn't even looking her way. He’s completely tuned out, his focus entirely on you, a smug grin on his face because he knows exactly how worked up you are.

The music shifts, a heavy bass track kicking in that makes the whole yacht vibrate. You feel a surge of mischief. You want to mark your territory in front of the whole chat, but you want to do it in a way that drives Max insane.

You slide behind Max, who is standing and chatting with Silky. Without a word, you bend over right in front of him, planting your hands on your knees. You arch your back deep, pushing your ass out so those booty shorts are stretched to their absolute limit. You start to twerk, your cheeks bouncing in a rhythmic, heavy blur, the 5star and PBM tattoos flashing with every shake.

Silky sees what you're doing and lets out a loud "Ooh!" He reaches over, grabbing Max by the shoulders and holding him steady, basically pinning him in place so he has a front-row seat to your ass vibrating inches from his face.

The cameraman is trying to be professional, panning away to avoid a community guidelines strike, but he’s failing. The chat is absolutely losing it because the reflection in the glass sliding doors shows everything—your ass bouncing wildly, the way the fabric of your shorts is practically disappearing into your crack.

Max’s breath hitches. You can hear him groan low in his throat, his eyes glazed over as he watches your ass move. He doesn't even acknowledge Yuri, who is standing a few feet away looking irritated and ignored.

A few minutes later, Max finds a gap in the conversation. He reaches out, gripping your wrist with a firm hold and pulling you away from the crowd. He doesn't say a word, just leads you toward the back of the yacht, slipping into a secluded corridor behind some storage lockers where the music is muffled and the lights are dim.

The second you're hidden from view, he slams you against the wall. There’s no slow build-up this time. He rips your booty shorts and panties down to your ankles in one violent motion, exposing your soaking wet pussy to the salt air.

"You think you're funny, huh?" he growls, his voice deep and commanding. "Twerking on me like that in front of everyone?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. He fumbles with his pants, freeing his thick, heavy dick. He grabs your hips, lifting you slightly and slamming himself inside you in one deep, brutal thrust. You scream into his shoulder, your legs wrapping around his waist as he fills you completely, stretching you wide.

Max starts hammering into you, his pace rough and relentless. Each thrust is a heavy thud, his dick hitting your cervix with a force that makes your head spin. He reaches up, his large hand wrapping firmly around your throat. He doesn't squeeze to hurt, but he applies a steady, dominant pressure, choking you just enough to make your vision blur and your breath hitch.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice a low rumble. "Tell me who you belong to while I'm fucking you."

"You... Max... only you," you gasp, your voice strained from the pressure on your windpipe.

"That's right," he grunts, picking up the pace, his dick sliding in and out of you with a wet, slapping sound. "I don't give a fuck about no other bitch. I don't give a fuck about the stream. I just want this tight little pussy."

He keeps you choked out, talking you through every deep plunge, describing exactly how your walls are gripping his dick. The intensity peaks as he slams into you one last time, a guttural roar escaping him as he cums deep inside you, filling you with hot, thick loads of cum.

He holds you there for a moment, your chest heaving, your throat tingling from the grip. He slowly lets go and helps you pull your shorts back up, though you're shaking so hard you can barely stand.

By the time you both sneak back into the party, you're completely spent. Your legs feel like jelly, and you're walking with a slight wobble, your insides still pulsing from the roughness. You're effectively down for the count, leaning heavily on Max as you rejoin the group.

Ole’ girl tries to make a comment, stepping toward Max to ask him something, but he doesn't even glance her way. He just keeps his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you close to his side, completely uninterested in anything but the woman he just wrecked.

[mooooncore]

Trippin on a Yatch Ch.1

Content: plaqueboy max x fem! reader

Warning: 18+ minors dni, yatch, heavy make out, possessive reader, situationship, no hard feeling towards anyone fr, irl stream

Wc: 791

ch.2 here

The phone rings, and you pick up on the second ring. Max’s voice comes through the speaker, sounding hyped as usual.

"Yo, look, I'm finna be out in Miami on a yacht for an IRL stream with Silky and a few others. You need to slide. It's gonna be a movie, for real. You down?"

You lean back, a smirk on your face. "A yacht? You really tryin' to flex like that? Say less, I'm in. Just make sure the vibes right."

"You already know how I do it. Just bring that energy. I'll send you the flight details," Max says before hanging up.

——

The sun is blazing, and the yacht is luxury personified. You’re feeling yourself, rocking a two-piece tropical print halter top and booty shorts that barely cover anything. Every time you move, your ass is practically spilling out the bottom, putting those 5star and PBM tattoos on full display right where the world can see.

As you're scoping out the deck, you spot her. Yuri. One of those stream guest that’s always orbiting Max, trying to get a piece of the clout or something more. You already knew it was gonna be some bullshit the moment you stepped on board.

The cameraman pans over to you, catching the view of your tattoos and the way those shorts hug your curves. The chat goes absolutely nuclear. The screen is a blur of "LFG," "SHE'S BAD," and "PBM GOT HER LOCKED IN." They know exactly how you feel about Max, and they love the drama.

You see Yuri whispering something to Max, leaning in too close for your liking. Even if it's just for the content, it irks you. You slide over to her, the tension thick.

"You really think you doing something, huh?" you mutter, your voice low and sharp.

Yuri rolls her eyes, giving you a smug look. "It's just content, babe. Don't get your feelings hurt over a stream."

"Content or not, know your place," you snap back.

You've had enough. You turn around, grab Max by the arm, and practically drag him toward the lounge area. You push him down hard onto the couch and plop down right next to him, kicking one leg over his lap. Your thigh perfectly covers his crotch, shielding his growing bulge from the camera's view.

Quickly, you reach up and rip both of your mics off, tossing them to the side so the stream can't hear the real talk.

"Nigga, stop fucking playing with me on this yacht!" you yell over the Cash Cobain track blasting through the speakers. You reach up, gripping his goateed chin firmly, forcing him to look at you.

Max looks up at you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He loves it when you get possessive. "Damn, you really pressed," he chuckles, his voice deep.

"I'm deadass," you hiss. You don't want to do this in front of the cameras or the chat. You stand up, grabbing his hand and pulling him off the couch. "Come here. Now."

Max doesn't need to be told twice. He follows you, leaving the stream and the confused chat behind as you lead him down the hall and into one of the yacht's private bedrooms. The moment the door clicks shut, the muffled sound of the music is the only thing left.

You don't even let him speak before you're on him, slamming him back against the closed door. You crash your lips against his in a claim, tasting the mint and the confidence on him as your tongues clash, sliding against each other in a messy, desperate rhythm. Max groans into your mouth, his hands immediately finding your waist and squeezing the skin of your hips.

He shifts, his large hand sliding under the hem of your booty shorts. He doesn't waste time, his fingers diving deep into your heat, finding you already soaking wet. You gasp into the kiss, your back arching as he finds your clit, rubbing it firmly through your panties.

"You so bad fa’ this," Max mumbles against your lips, his breath hot.

You pull back just an inch, your eyes hooded. "I don't give a fuck. Just make sure that big dick of yours stays focused on me."

Max lets out a low laugh and slides his hand further, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulling them aside. He thrusts two fingers deep inside you, stretching you out while his thumb keeps a relentless pace on your nub. You're shaking, your leg trembling as you grind your pelvis against his thigh, feeling the sheer size of his dick pressing against you through his pants.

The makeout gets nastier, your teeth grazing his lower lip as you suck on it, your hand sliding down to grip the front of his pants, feeling the thick length of him. You're both lost in it, the heat of the room rising as you fight for air between deep, hungry kisses.

Suddenly, the door bursts open with a loud bang.

"YO! MAX! WHERE THE FUCK ARE Y'ALL—"

Silky freezes in the doorway, eyes wide as he takes in the scene: you half-naked and pinned against the door, Max's hand buried deep in your shorts, and both of you breathless and flushed.

"Oh, damn," Silky blinks, a smirk forming. "I see y'all taking a 'break' from the stream."

[mooooncore]

Diva

Content: plaqueboy max x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, oral sex (m receiving), speaking life into your man, established relationship, idk fuck that other mf tho

Wc: 900+

The sun was beating down on the Streamer University campus, and you were locked in, finishing up a high-energy outdoor makeover stream. You had your setup rigged up, brushes in hand, making sure the lighting was hitting just right for your viewers. You were a smaller streamer compared to the heavy hitters, but your community was tight. As you wrapped up the final touches on the look, you glanced over at your chat, and the scroll speed was absolutely insane.

"Yo, check on Max!"

"Find Max right now, he’s trippin"

"Max is crashed out, go find him!"

You frowned, leaning closer to the monitor. "Wait, what’s goin' on with Max? Why y'all spamming this?"

The chat exploded with details about a heated verbal altercation between Max and Ojay. From the looks of it, Ojay had really gotten under his skin, and Max was currently spiraling, feeling defeated and drained. You didn't even hesitate. You didn't care about the viewer count or the momentum of the stream.

"Alright y'all, I'm out. I gotta go check on my man," you said quickly, hitting the 'End Stream' button without a second thought.

You hurried through the campus, your heart racing until you found him. Max was tucked away in a quiet corner of the lounge, looking completely defeated, staring at the floor with his shoulders slumped. He looked small, which was rare for him.

You walked up and slid next to him, putting a soft hand on his shoulder. "Max... talk to me, baby. I saw the chat. What's really goin' on?"

Max sighed, his voice sounding raspy. "Man, I just... I let him get to me. I feel like a fool, for real. Just let him play with my head."

You shifted closer, looking him dead in the eyes, your voice dripping with support. "Listen to me. Stop letting that man rent space in your head for free. You're his blueprint, Max. You worked too hard and come too far to let one argument shake your foundation. You're a king, and a few words from him don't change your value. You're ten times the man he is, and you know it. Shake that off, because you're too fly to be sitting here looking like this."

Max looked at you, the tension in his jaw finally loosening. A small, appreciative smile tugged at his lips. "You always know exactly what to say, damn."

"I got you," you whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly. "Always."

The mood shifted instantly. The emotional release turned into a heavy, magnetic tension. You led him back to the room, the door clicking shut behind you. You didn't want to take control; you just wanted to show him how much you appreciated him.

You pushed him gently back onto the bed, your hands roaming over his chest. You started slow, leaning down to press your lips against his skin. You began kissing every single tattoo on his body, treating his skin like a map of everything he'd been through. You lingered on the ink, your tongue tracing the lines, humming softly against his skin.

"You so fine, Max... for real," you murmured, your voice breathy. "I appreciate everything you do. You're a real one."

Max groaned, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer. "You really tryna make me feel good today, huh?"

"I just want you to feel how much I love you," you replied, sliding your hand down to his pants. You worked him out of his clothes with slow, deliberate movements, revealing his thick, heavy dick. It was already pulsing, standing hard and proud.

You didn't rush. You looked up at him with pure adoration before leaning down. You wrapped your lips around the head of his dick, swirling your tongue around the rim. Max let out a sharp gasp, his head hitting the pillow.

"Oh shit... you're killin' me," he choked out.

You took him deeper, your throat tightening around him, sucking with a steady, rhythmic pressure. You used your hand to stroke the base, making sure every inch of him was feeling the heat. You looked up at him while you worked, seeing the sheer pleasure on his face, and it only made you want to give him more.

"You like that, baby?" you asked, pulling back for a second, a string of saliva connecting you to him.

"Yeah... fuck, keep goin'. Just like that," Max groaned, his voice deep and needy.

You went back to work, sucking him harder, your cheeks hollowing as you drew him in. You were focused entirely on him, wanting him to forget every bad word Ojay had said. You wanted him to feel like the only man in the world. You played with his balls, gently squeezing them as you accelerated the pace of your mouth.

Max started to shake, his breath coming in ragged hitches. "I'm close... I'm real close, baby. I'm 'bout to blow."

You didn't stop; you pushed harder, your tongue swirling around the head of his dick as you sucked him with everything you had. You wanted him to lose himself in you.

"Give me that nut, Max. Just let it go," you whispered against his skin.

With a loud, guttural moan, Max stiffened, his hips thrusting upward as he finally hit his peak. He let out a long, shaky breath as he came, thick ropes of cum filling your mouth. You didn't pull away, swallowing every bit of him, making sure he felt completely drained and satisfied.

As he slumped back into the mattress, completely spent, you crawled up his body and rested your head on his chest, listening to his heart race.

"I love you, Max," you whispered.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against him, the stress of the day finally gone. "I love you too. Thank you for holding me down."

[mooooncore]

Baby Welcome To The Party

Content: Silky Woo x Fem! Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, heavy petting, flirting, dirty talk, freaky shii on stream

Wc: 710

The energy at Streamer University 2026 was electric, a whole vibe of clout-chasers and content creators all crammed into one campus. You were just trying to get your bearings, your own mid-sized community hype in your ear, when you locked eyes with Silky Woo. He was a whole meal—skin glowing like mahogany, a sharp jawline, and an aura that screamed he knew he was the main character.

It didn't even take two days for the chemistry to hit. You caught him in the lounge, and the conversation flowed easy, full of that natural rhythm. The slang was effortless, the banter sharp. By the second night, the group decided they were bored of the usual mixers and decided to sneak off to a local nightclub to actually live a little.

The club was loud, the bass rattling your chest, and the lighting was dim and moody. You and Silky were locked in from the jump. Every time the waiter came around with a tray of Don Julio shots, you both leaned in, knocking them back one after another. The tequila hit fast, blurring the edges of the room and making everything feel heightened.

On the dance floor, Silky didn't leave your side. He had you pressed up against him, his hands gripping your waist tight as he guided your hips to grind slow and heavy against his thighs. You could feel the hard ridge of his dick pressing firmly into your backside, molding perfectly against you. The friction was driving you crazy, and the way he looked down at you with those heavy lids told you he was feeling it just as hard.

"You tryin' to get in trouble, huh?" he whispered, his voice deep and raspy against your ear.

"Maybe I am," you breathed back, your voice a sultry purr. "You just gonna stand there or you gonna do somethin' about it?"

Silky didn't need to be told twice. He guided you away from the crowd, sliding into a dark, shadowed corner where the music was a muffled thumping and the light barely reached. The second you hit the wall, he had you pinned. He crashed his lips onto yours, a hungry, desperate kiss that tasted like lime and expensive tequila.

His hands wandered, sliding down to squeeze your cheeks, pulling you closer until there wasn't a millimeter of space between you. He started talking dirty, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your skin.

"I bet you ready fa’me right now," he groaned, nipping at your neck. " wanna rip this dress off and see how you taste."

You let out a soft moan, arching your back into him. "Mmm, you talk a big game. Why don't you show me how that aii feel then? I bet you're itching to get inside me."

What neither of you remembered in the tequila-fueled haze was that you were both still "live." Your mics were still clipped—his to the strap of his tank top, yours tucked into the neckline of your dress. Back in the digital world, thousands of viewers were staring at their screens in absolute shock. The stream was just a black screen or a blurry shot of the floor, but the audio was crystal clear. The chat was moving so fast it was a blur of:

"LMAOOO,"

"YOOO THEY REALLY DOIN IT," and "THE AUDIO IS CRAZY."

“IN GTA THO”

You spent the next hour in that corner, hands roaming, mouths locked, and dirty promises being whispered into the mic for the whole world to hear.

By the time the group piled onto the shuttle bus back to the university, the adrenaline had faded into a warm, sleepy glow. You and Silky were slumped against each other, smelling like sweat and perfume, looking completely wrecked.

As the bus pulled up to the campus drop-off, Kai was standing there, arms crossed, looking at the two of you with a mixture of judgment and amusement. He had clearly been watching the stream.

As you and Silky stepped off the bus, still looking half-dazed and disheveled, Kai just shook his head and looked you both dead in the eyes.

"Man, y'all two some freaky ass people," Kai deadpanned, his voice echoing in the quiet night. "Just get on to a room already."

[mooooncore]

Princess Going Digital

Content: IShowSpeed x Plus size! Fem Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, p in v, online-> irl relationship, talking you through it, oral (m receiving), semi inexperienced reader.

Wc: 1.6k+

requested by myshioverlyiceddd

(my anonymous ask are open for request, send them in)

The purple glow of your setup bathed the room, but you weren't looking at the screens. You were curled up in your chair, twisting a strand of hair around your finger, staring at the Discord chat. You and Darren had been talking for months: late-night calls and a tension that lived in the quiet spaces between your laughs. You were always the soft-spoken one, the girl who blushed at his compliments, while Darren was the storm to your calm.

Until today.

"Yo, chat! We really out here!" Darren’s voice boomed through the handheld camera (a/n: he didn’t bring his camera man) as he marched toward your door. "I'm finally meeting her! Let's go!"

When you opened the door, you didn't smirk or play it cool. You stood there with a shy, tentative smile, hands clasped in front of you. You were wearing a mini dress that hugged every lush curve, the fabric stretching gently over your wide hips and the soft, rounded swell of your stomach.

Darren froze. The chaotic energy vanished. His gaze traveled slowly from your toes up to your blushing cheeks, his eyes darkening.

"Damn," he breathed, his voice dropping into a lower rumble. "You... you're even more beautiful than I imagined. For real, ma."

"Hi, Darren," you whispered, your eyes fluttering down to the floor.

He didn't wait for an invitation. He stepped inside, his presence filling the room. He reached out, his large hand cupping your chin to lift your gaze. "Look at me, baby. Don't be shy now."

The IRL stream was a blur. You followed his lead, your small hand tucked into the crook of his arm, leaning into him. Every time he spoke, there was a protective, dominant edge to it, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back, feeling the softness of your skin through the dress. He loved the contrast of his lean, hard frame against your pillowy curves.

"I'm tellin' you, chat, she's an angel!" Darren yelled, though his eyes stayed on you, watching the way you bit your lip when he pulled you closer.

"I... I think we should end the stream," you murmured.

Darren grinned, a predatory glint in his eye. "You heard her, chat! We're out! I gotta take care of my girl. Peace!"

The moment the "Stream Offline" notification hit, the air turned heavy. Darren didn't give you a chance to move. He pinned you gently but firmly against the wall, his chest brushing against your breasts.

"You've been so quiet all day," he mumbled, his voice a low vibration. "You still nervous, mama? Tell me."

"A little," you whispered, your chest heaving.

"I got you," he murmured, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck. "Just relax for me. I'm gonna take care of everything. Just follow my lead, alright?"

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a slow tease before he finally claimed your mouth. The kiss was dominant, demanding. He tasted like sweet desire, his tongue sliding against yours. You let out a soft, whimpering moan, your hands clutching his shirt, your body molding itself to his hardness.

He pulled back an inch, breathing ragged. "You like that? Tell me you like it."

"Yes... I love it," you breathed.

"Good girl.” His hand slid down, gripping the fullness of your ass and lifting you, pressing your soft thighs against his waist. "Now, I want you to do something for me. I've been thinking about this since the first call. Get on your knees, baby. Right here. Do it for me."

Your heart hammered, but you obeyed, slowly sinking to the floor. You looked up at him, eyes wide and eager to please. Darren looked down at you with pure possession.

"That's it. Now, reach for my belt," he commanded. "Slowly. I want you to see exactly what you're doing to me."

With trembling fingers, you undid his belt and slid his pants and boxers down. His dick sprang free, thick, pulsing, and fully erect. You gasped softly.

"Don't be scared," he whispered, his hand resting on top of your head, guiding you closer. "Just take your time. Start with your tongue. Lick the head for me, ma. Let me feel how soft you are."

You obeyed, your tongue swirling around the rim, tasting the salty pre-cum. Darren let out a guttural groan, his fingers tightening slightly in your hair. "Yeah... just like that. Now take it. All of it. Open wide for me."

You parted your lips, sliding your mouth over the head and slowly taking the length of him. You gagged slightly as he hit the back of your throat, and Darren immediately slowed down, his voice soothing but firm. "Easy, baby. Just breathe. I got you. Just swallow it down... there you go. Good girl."

Encouraged, you pushed further, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked him deep, your soft lips creating a tight, hot vacuum around his shaft. Darren’s hips began to twitch, his breathing becoming short, ragged bursts.

"Fuck, you're so sweet... so fucking perfect," he panted. "Keep going. Don't stop. I'm close, mama. I'm so close. Just keep sucking it... take it all!"

He began to thrust his hips forward, his movements becoming more urgent. He guided your head, pushing himself deeper into your throat, claiming every inch of you. With a final, strangled cry, Darren snapped, his body shuddering as he unloaded a thick, hot stream of cum deep into your throat.

You swallowed instinctively, taking every drop, your eyes watering as you finished him off.

As you pulled away, a thin string of saliva connecting you, Darren leaned back against the wall, spent but still looking at you with that possessive hunger. He reached down, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

He reached down, gripping your arms and pulling you up with an effortless strength. He didn't give you a second to breathe before he spun you around, pressing your front flat against the wall. The cool surface felt sharp against your skin, contrasting with the heat of his body slamming into your back. He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your plush curves, pulling your ass back hard against his thighs.

"You feel that?" he whispered in your ear, his breath hot. "I'm still hard for you. I can't even get it to go down because you're just... damn."

He reached down, bunching up the fabric of your dress, sliding it up over your hips until it was gathered around your waist. He didn't have you wearing anything underneath, and the moment your bare skin hit the air, he let out a low growl. He slid a hand between your thighs, his fingers finding your wetness instantly.

"Look at you," he murmured, rubbing his thumb over your clit. "You're soaking for me, mama. You've been wanting this just as bad as I have, huh?"

"Yes... please, Darren," you whimpered, your head leaning back against his shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut.

"I got you. Just relax for me," he commanded, his voice steady and authoritative. He shifted his grip, lifting one of your legs and hooking it over his hip, opening you up completely. He positioned the head of his dick right against your entrance, teasing the opening, sliding in and out just a fraction of an inch.

"I'm gonna slide inside you now. Just breathe through it, baby. I'm gonna go slow."

He pushed forward, a slow, deliberate thrust that filled you completely. You let out a loud, sharp moan, your fingers clawing at the wall. You were tight, your soft walls gripping him like a vice, and Darren groaned, his forehead resting against the back of your neck.

"Fuck... you're so tight, ma. You feel so good," he panted. He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust to the size of him, his hand rubbing circles into your hip to soothe you. "You okay? You good for me?"

"Yes... it feels... so good," you breathed, your voice trembling.

"That's my girl," he whispered. He began to move, starting with shallow, rhythmic thrusts that built the tension. Every time he hit your spot, you let out a soft, high-pitched sound that only made him push harder. He started picking up the pace, his movements becoming more aggressive, more dominant. The sound of your skin slapping together filled the room, a raw, wet rhythm.

He reached around, grabbing your breast, squeezing the soft flesh as he hammered into you from behind. "You're mine, you hear me? All this... all this softness... it's all mine."

"I'm yours... Darren, please... more," you begged, your body shaking with every impact.

He didn't hold back. He gripped your beautifully plush waist tight , and began to drive into you with everything he had. He was relentless, claiming every inch of you, his dick hitting deep and hard. You were lost in it, the feeling of being completely taken over by him, the way he guided your body and controlled the pace.

"I'm close, mama... I'm right there," he groaned, his voice breaking. He accelerated, his thrusts becoming short and powerful, pinning you harder and harder against the wall. You felt your own climax building, a tidal wave of heat crashing through your core.

"Give it it to me ma, cum fa’me” he commanded.

As if on cue, your muscles clamped down on him in a series of intense spasms. You cried out, your body arching as you peaked, the pleasure overwhelming. The feeling of you tightening around him was the final straw for Darren. He let out a guttural shout, thrusting one last time as deep as he could go, his body shuddering violently as he filled you with hot, thick loads of cum.

He stayed buried inside you for a long time, both of you panting, the only sound in the room, the heavy thud of your hearts. He slowly slid out, the wet sound echoing in the silence. He didn't let you go, though; he turned you around in his arms, wrapping his limbs around your soft frame and pulling you into a tight, protective embrace.

"See?" he whispered, breathless. "I told you I'd take care of you."

[mooooncore]

Or What?

Content: Streamer University 2026, Jason The Ween x Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, p in v, flirting, dirty talk, you know what you want and you’re gonna get it period.

Wc: 990+

The energy in the Streamer University dining hall was pure chaos: a loud, flashing mess of ring lights, handheld cameras, and a hundred different streams going live at once. You navigated through the crowd with a level of confidence that had the whole room shifting their gaze. You weren't some desperate fan girl; you were a baddie, and you knew exactly how you moved. The only reason you’d gone viral was because you were the first girl with enough nerve to actually admit you were feeling Jason the Ween. You didn't thirst over niggas, they usually thirsted over you, but Jay was different. He had that energy that actually matched yours.

You looked effortless. Your natural curls were snatched back into a sleek bun, and your thick curves were hugged perfectly by a baby pink Juicy Couture tracksuit. With your Dunks clicking against the floor, you felt the eyes of every streamer in the building on you, but you didn't give them a glance.

Suddenly, the vibe shifted. The Clover Boys had officially taken over the center of the hall, turning the dining area into a makeshift club. The heavy bass of "Or What" by 42 and NBA YoungBoy kicked in, the beat rattling the windows. Jason was right there, dead center of the dance circle, hyped up and feeding off the energy.

As the lyrics hit—“I like pills and Percocetsssss yessss”—you decided it was time to stop playing. You stepped into the circle, the cameras swiveling toward you instantly. You didn't say a word; you just turned your back to him and dropped it low. You began to twerk, your thick ass shaking rhythmically, the velour fabric of the Juicy suit sliding against your skin as you ground your backside sensually against Jason’s crotch.

Jason let out a loud, surprised laugh, leaning back into Tylil, who caught him and held him up. Jason’s hands instinctively reached out to grip your hips, pulling you tighter against him so he could feel every bounce of your cheeks. You could practically hear the collective scream of both your chats exploding in a frenzy of "W" and "HE REALLY HER TYPE." You looked back over your shoulder, giving him a playful, hooded gaze that told him exactly where this was heading.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

After curfew, the dorms were quiet, but the tension in your room was screaming. You’d already handled your roommate, making sure she was out for the night so you could have the space to yourself. When the knock finally came, you didn't rush. You took your time walking to the door, knowing exactly what he wanted.

You opened the door to find Jason, looking just as hyped as he was in the dining hall, but with a hunger in his eyes that wasn't for a dance party.

"Damn, you really tried to kill me in the dining hall, huh?" Jason whispered, stepping inside and kicking the door shut behind him.

You leaned back against the dresser, crossing your arms and giving him a smirk. "You looked like you needed a little something to keep you focused, Jay."

Jason chuckled, stepping into your space and pinning you against the wood. "You think you're real slick, don't you? I seen the clips. I know you been wanting this."

"I said I liked you, Jay. I didn't say I was desperate," you teased, your voice low. "But since you already here... you gonna keep talking or you gonna show me what you're working with?"

He didn't need to be told twice. He stripped you out of the Juicy tracksuit, his hands roaming over your thick thighs and hips, praising the way you were built. He had you stripped bare and pushed back onto the bed, the sheets cool against your skin.

Jason moved between your legs, his eyes locked on yours. He shifted his position, sliding down the bed until he reached your feet. You gasped as he grabbed your ankle, pulling your foot up to his face. He looked up at you with a smirk before sliding your toes into his mouth, sucking on them with a wet, rhythmic intensity. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity straight to your clit, making your hips arch off the mattress.

"Mmm, you taste so fucking good," he mumbled around your toes, his tongue swirling around them before he finally crawled back up your body.

He hovered over you, his hard cock brushing against your soaking wet cunt. He gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head as he aligned himself. With one heavy, decisive thrust, he buried himself deep inside you.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Jason groaned, his face contorting in pleasure. He began to pump into you in a steady, punishing missionary rhythm. Every time he slammed his hips forward, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room.

"Tell me you wanted this," he commanded, his voice dripping with dominance. "Tell me you've been thinking about this dick since the dining hall."

"I told you... I wanted you, Pa," you moaned, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist to pull him even deeper. "Just keep fucking me like that."

"I got you," he grunted, picking up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster and more desperate. "I'm gonna fill you up so deep you'll feel me in your throat. You're such a little slut for me, aren't you?"

The dirty talk pushed you over the edge. You felt the orgasm building, a tidal wave of heat crashing through your core. Jason felt it too, his movements becoming frantic, his breath coming in short, jagged gasps.

"I'm coming... fuck, Imma nut in you mama!" he groaned, delivering a few final, deep lunges before shuddering violently. He collapsed against you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he fucked his warm cum deep into you.

You lay there in silence, both of you breathing hard, knowing that while the world saw a viral clip, you were the only one who actually got the prize.