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i like noses, i like big noses lol
Reblogged starrii-sturns
Nicks bulge??? Yeah Chris gon head and post yours! Need everyone to know what I be taking down my throat every night!!!
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ʟᴇɢᴏ ꜰʟᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ
…𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘰
fluff, mutual pining (subtle), best friends to something almost, silly teenagers in love, nerd!matt supremacy, legos and longing, inner child healing via plastic bricks, slow burn, quiet affection, he's building her flowers (that's it that's the tag), matt is down so bad, he hopes she never finds his journal, not quite a love confession
inspired by my dear dear friend @snoopychris's nerd!matt au. my beloved, my first au love, may he forever rest in peace.
word count - 600ish
By the time she gets to Matt’s place, he already has the box open, the bags spread out on the floor in neat piles like he’s been waiting for her. Which—he has.
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he hit me and it felt like a kiss
(a chris x y/n ultraviolence-inspired fic)
It started the way things like this always do: with a gaze too long to be innocent and a smile too sweet to be sincere. He was trouble dressed in Saint Laurent, all sharp cheekbones and a chipped tooth, with eyes that looked through you like they already knew every dirty thought you’d ever had.
You should've walked away.
But you didn’t.
Instead, you let him pull you into his car with the leather seats that stuck to your thighs and the smell of cigarette smoke that clung to your skin like sin. He drove like he loved danger—hands loose on the wheel, jaw clenched, music too loud. Lana played from his busted aux, and you didn’t dare speak when Ultraviolence started to play.
"I can hear sirens, sirens..."
He looked over at you, smirked like the devil, and whispered, “This one’s for you.”
Chris didn’t do gentle. He loved hard, fast, and mean. He’d leave you breathless, bruised, begging for more. Every argument ended with slammed doors and stained sheets. Every kiss tasted like blood and cherry chapstick. And somehow, that was enough for you.
Because the violence was beautiful with him.
The pain made you feel alive.
You were his favorite bad habit, the girl he should’ve let go of months ago but couldn't. The one who stayed even when he left—left you crying in your apartment, left you drunk at a party, left his fingerprints on your soul like tattoos you never asked for.
And still, you came back.
Because he told you he needed you.
Because he said, "You’re mine. You know that, right?"
Because sometimes he cried during sex. Because sometimes he kissed your wrists like they were made of porcelain. Because sometimes he looked at you like he wanted to be saved, and you were stupid enough to think you could do it.
"He used to call me DN, that stood for deadly nightshade..."
You were poison and perfume, all glossed lips and mascara tears. He loved the way you broke—said you were the prettiest when you were sad. You stopped wearing eyeliner when he said it smudged too easily. You stopped smiling when he said it looked fake.
You stopped being you.
But God, did you love him.
And he swore he loved you, too.
In his own twisted way.
So when he said, “Stay,” you stayed.
And when he said, “I hate you,” you whispered, “I know.”
And when he said, “You’re everything,” you believed him.
Because love isn’t supposed to hurt.
But with him, it did.
And you liked it that way.
give me all of that ultraviolence....
@mattswifeyy @dolliraez @zenithsturniolo @sturniolo-szn2 @scorpio1205 @ph3ebssturniolo @auttysturnz
Reblogged starrii-sturns
google show me this guy wet and whimpering
Reblogged starrii-sturns
sugardaddy!matt
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chris sturniolo x reader | blurb, vulnerability, comfort, skin-to-skin cuddling
It was well past midnight when Chris first heard the creak of the hallway floorboards.
He was lying on his side, freshly showered, warm beneath the weight of the comforter, the soft scent of eucalyptus and soap still clinging to his skin. His hair was damp, slightly curled at the ends from the shower, and his phone lay facedown on the nightstand — untouched, forgotten. The bedroom light was off, but a faint golden glow spilled in from the hallway, casting a soft outline of your figure as you paused in the doorway.
He looked up instantly.
