mattsobvimyfav

[mattsobvimyfav]

i also think we should chill on a girl who maybe made a mistake when she was what 15? idk strange to me nobody actually knows what happened & nobody should be rude about stuff that’s not ur business & you actually don’t know what happened. just bc that’s ur fav🤷🏻‍♀️

and i think that if madisyn left because of chrises commitment issues there wouldn’t be tea (since on the stream they were like they wanna know the tea) and they wouldn’t have unfollowed her EVERYWHERE and wouldve understood, and chris would not have been heartbroken from that he would’ve understood 😭😭 im pretty sure he was also with madisyn when he was rly young like in 2020-2021 so i think that was also before he was even scared because seemingly from the pics of them tg they were rllly close, he would’ve said from the start if he didn’t want all of that with her. there’s literally vids and pics of them cuddling and holding hands from 2020-2021 AND nick def wouldn’t have talked about it publicly if they didnt know for sure AND theres literally no evidence of them saying there was a misunderstanding because nick wasnt actually talking he was mouthing 😭😭 but i just had to say this because none of this is a coincidence he def was played hes talked about being heartbroken nick mouthed it on the stream and they never addressed it after its def real he def was played

THANK YOU

fuck the people who side with that hoe who dated another dude while with chris 😭😭

[mattsobvimyfav]

here’s my last post before i delete this account bc im actually so sick of some of u dick riders please.

the way the triplets act is soo entitled. i just saw a tiktok of them saying they aren’t gonna post friday videos if they aren’t good, you literally do nothing??

you post once a week so u can’t take one day to make a good video? i cared about them back in 2021/22 idek when they FIRST started at this point. I would write my fanfics with them as characters because they are hot.

Matt & Nick have horrible attitudes. Nothing about the videos are even good tbh, there’s some funny points (ONE MAYBE TWO) other than that chris is the only one who keeps the mood light.

you can state ur opinion in the comments idc what u have to say tbh because at this point, it’s clear ur sticking up for people who don’t care about u😁💘

EDDITTTT- if u say being an influencer is hard bite a fucking brick.

[mattsobvimyfav]

YOU SUCK THE DICK STRAIGHT OUT MY ASS WHO GOT THE UPPET HAND

[mattsobvimyfav]

Hi! sorry to bother! but there's a user that goes by @ forevermore777 and he has been banned alot, but he keeps coming back.

Hes a grown man that sexualizes 17 year old ariana greenblatt. he posts in her tag too and he's really gross… :/

pleas report him!! tagging/telling others about this helps!

‼️‼️‼️‼️

[mattsobvimyfav]

guys i would never want to be famous bc i would be cancelled so fast & even worst id never apologize for it like why am i apologizing for something i said/ did with my chest like if i did it on the internet i did it on purpose clearly

[mattsobvimyfav]

i think if u send hate in anon ur a pussy. esp to someone who’s open ab mental health problems and shit like that. idgaf say what u want ab me bc my own vision of myself is too high for anyone to tear down but if ur a hater behind 1. a tumblr that 98% of people don’t now who u are 2. behind ANON at that. If ur life is so miserable u need to talk shit to someone plz do it to me bc ur a fucking loser and i could care less what ur dumbass has to say, but if u get ur rocks off on hating do it over here 💃💃💃

[mattsobvimyfav]

new dealer!chris chapter here ! 💸

@mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1 @chrislova @stellarsturns @lelesturniolo @sturniolodoll @ilovemattsturn @blahbel668 @fratboychrisera @slxt4chriss @c1airesturnio1o @reesejochens @lailarie @pip4444chris @nakaylap @natalie3773 @jetaimevous @ivysturnss @slut4chris888 @lynxxbbunny @amelia-sturniolo3 @slvttie-zx @abby-lynch26 @fratbrochrisgf @autumnmatt @iloveduckssm @severecreationfox @lost-ashley @sitarayummmyyyy @mattsbitchh @sturniolosangel @watercolorskyy @starzinasblog @xmexssx @chris-hallelujah @sabsturned @star-sturns @colorthecosmos444 @glinda-the-goodwitch @ncm9696 @giannalovessturniolo @hannahhsturnioloo @riasturns @mattsplaything

[mattsobvimyfav]

i got two holes for a reason 🤷‍♀️

[mattsobvimyfav]

new part of unknown🤺🤺

unknown

Y/N has always played it safe—balancing her job as a pediatric nurse, and her careful lifestyle. But one night out with her friend, Jordan, changes everything. When she meets Matt and Chris—two dangerous, enigmatic brothers—she’s drawn into a world she doesn’t belong in. But the more she resists, the harder they pulls her in.

pt 5

The sterile glow of fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead as I glanced at the clock—12:03 AM. The hospital never truly slept, even if the world outside did. The quiet hum of machines and the soft beeping of monitors filled the air, a constant reminder of the fragile lives within these walls. My scrubs felt heavier tonight, clinging to me with the weight of exhaustion that came with the night shift.

I made my rounds, clipboard in hand, checking vitals and adjusting IVs. Liam was my first stop, a six-year-old with a stubborn spirit and an even more stubborn case of pneumonia. He was awake, his big brown eyes peeking over the edge of his blanket. I smiled softly, trying to mask my fatigue.

“Hey, buddy,” I whispered, keeping my voice low. “How are we feeling?”

He gave me a weak thumbs-up, and I chuckled, adjusting his oxygen mask slightly. After checking his stats, I promised him a superhero sticker when he woke up in the morning. His small smile made the sleepless hours feel a little less heavy.

The night blurred into a routine of soft footsteps, hushed voices, and the occasional urgent call over the intercom. At 2:15 AM, I found myself in the NICU, staring down at fragile lives encased in plastic incubators. The tiniest of fingers twitched, and my heart clenched. I adjusted monitors, recorded notes, and offered comfort to anxious parents perched beside their babies.

By 4 AM, exhaustion was creeping in, settling into my bones like a chill I couldn’t shake. I slipped into the break room, cradling a lukewarm cup of coffee, my mind drifting to Matt. Wondering where he was, what he was doing, if he was okay.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me from my thoughts. A simple text lit up the screen: "You good?" It was Matt. Just two words, but they warmed me more than the coffee ever could.

"Thinking about you," I replied quickly before tucking the phone away. No time for distractions.

The final hours passed in a haze of routine checks, comforting whispers to restless children, and quiet moments spent beside tiny hands gripping mine. When 7 AM finally arrived, the morning shift trickling in like a tide washing over weary sands, I felt the weight of the night pressing down.

But as I stepped outside, the first light of dawn brushing the horizon, I realized that even in exhaustion, there was a strange sense of peace. The world was waking up, and I was heading home.

The sky was painted in soft hues of pink and orange as I pulled into my driveway, the exhaustion from my shift weighing heavily on me. My limbs felt like lead, my mind foggy with fatigue, but something sharp pierced through the haze—Matt’s car parked across the street.

I frowned, squinting against the early morning light. He was there, slouched in the driver’s seat, his eyes dark and focused, scanning the street like he was expecting trouble. My heart skipped a beat, a mixture of surprise and something else I couldn’t quite name.

I crossed the street, my footsteps quiet against the pavement. As I approached his car, he rolled down the window, his gaze softening when it landed on me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice low, still rough from the long night.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The guy from the other night… he’s on the run. Chris and I haven’t been able to track him down yet.” His jaw tightened, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes. “I didn’t know what time you got off and I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

My heart twisted, the fatigue momentarily forgotten. “You… you sat here all night?”

He shrugged, like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing. Not to me.

“Come in,” I said softly, reaching for the door handle. “You must be tired.”

Matt didn’t argue. He killed the engine and followed me inside, his presence filling the quiet space of my house like he belonged there. I kicked off my shoes, feeling the exhaustion crash over me again.

“I’m gonna shower,” I mumbled, heading toward the bathroom.

“Alright,” he replied, already making his way to my bedroom, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The hot water was a welcome relief, washing away the hospital’s sterile scent and the tension clinging to my skin. But my mind kept drifting to Matt, to the way he watched over me without expecting anything in return.

When I finally emerged, wrapped in a towel, the house was silent except for the faint creak of the bed as he shifted. I peeked into the bedroom, finding him lying there, his eyes half-closed but still alert, as if he couldn’t fully relax.

I slipped into some fresh clothes and climbed into bed beside him. Without a word, he reached for me, pulling me close, his arm draped over my waist, grounding me.

“Thank you,” I whispered into the quiet.

He didn’t respond, but the way his fingers traced slow, lazy circles on my back said everything.

The soft glow of afternoon sunlight filtered through the blinds when I slowly blinked awake. The clock on my nightstand read 2:03 PM. Matt was still beside me, one arm draped lazily over my waist, his breathing steady and even. I shifted slightly, and his eyes opened, sharp and clear, like he'd never truly been asleep.

“I need to head home soon,” he murmured, his voice husky from sleep. “Got some business to handle tonight. You wanna come?”

I stretched, suppressing a yawn. “I can’t. I have to watch the kids I nanny around five. Their parents are going out for a date night.”

Matt propped himself up on one elbow, his brows knitting together in concern. “You work too much.”

I gave him a soft smile, brushing a stray hair from his face. “I like staying busy. Plus, it’s good money.”

He sighed, his hand trailing down my arm. “I just don’t want you running yourself into the ground.”

“I’m fine, Matt. Really.”

I finally decided to get moving. I didn’t have much time before I needed to be at the kids’ house by 4:45, so I hurried through my usual routine. Matt was gone by now and the sun was beating down outside. I was just thankful I could get away with something casual today.

I slipped into a pair of jean shorts and grabbed a cropped top from my closet. It was light and breathable, perfect for a long night with the kids. I didn’t even think twice about it as I tossed on my pair of Converse sneakers.

I checked the time—4:30 pm. With my bag slung over my shoulder, I grabbed my keys off the counter and headed out the door, feeling the heat of the afternoon sun on my skin as I made my way to the car. 

The moment I stepped through the door, they practically tackled me with hugs. It’s funny how quickly they latch on to you, like you’re part of the family.

By the time dinner came around, the house was full of energy. Little voices chattered away while I tried to make sure they ate at least a decent portion of their meals. I was used to it by now, this constant dance of playing, tidying up, refereeing fights, and making sure nobody was covered in food by the end of it.

Around 7:45, I herded them into their bedrooms, the youngest curled up under her princess blanket, the older one complaining about the “boring” bedtime story I always read. I brushed it off, knowing the moment I left the room, they’d be fast asleep. And they were.

By 8:00, the house was quiet again. It always feels surreal after a day of chaos. I sat on the couch, scrolling through my phone, the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old house the only sounds filling the space.

Then, I heard it. A noise. Soft at first, but unmistakable—a scraping sound, like something dragging across the floor. I froze. My heart started racing, and I quickly glanced around, the hair on the back of my neck standing up. It couldn’t be the kids. They were in bed, fast asleep, I was sure of it.

The noise came again, this time louder. I stood up slowly, trying not to make a sound, but the air felt thick. I moved toward the kitchen, my steps quieter than normal, and grabbed the first thing I could find—a sharp knife from the counter. My fingers tightened around the handle, the cool metal grounding me in this strange mix of fear and caution.

I took a deep breath and steadied myself, then moved toward the sound.

I took another step toward the sound, my grip tightening around the knife. But before I could even get another step closer, someone grabbed me from behind, their arm wrapping around my waist and a hand clamping over my mouth. My heart slammed in my chest as I struggled, but the grip was too strong. The knife slipped from my hand, clattering to the floor.

Panic surged in my veins. I tried to twist free, but then I felt something cold press against the side of my head, a faint metallic sensation that made my stomach drop. My breath caught in my throat, and just as I was about to scream, the grip on me loosened slightly, and the voice I dreaded hearing cut through the tension.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” My mind went blank as I turned my head at the all to familiar voice and caught sight of someone walking towards me. Matt. 

I tilt my head and look up at the person restraining me, already knowing who I will be met with. Chris. 

I gasped, finally pushing myself away from him as he let go. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I snapped, my heart racing from the shock and sudden release.

Matt’s jaw clenched, and he stepped closer, his eyes scanning the room quickly before focusing back on me. “This is one of our dealer's house,” he said, voice low but urgent. “We think the guy who lives here is stashing someone—someone we’re looking for.”

I shook my head, still trying to process what was happening, the fear slowly turning into disbelief. “That’s impossible,” I said, backing up a step. “The man who lives here is… he’s the dad of the kids I nanny for.”

Matt’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he glanced toward Chris, who was already walking toward the kitchen. “You think you know what he does in his free time?” he asked, voice a bit colder now, as if doubting me.

“I don't know- I thought,” my voice shaking a little. I didn’t know what the hell was going on. I've known him for years, I didn't think there was any way the man who took care of those kids would be involved in whatever shady dealings Matt and Chris were wrapped up in.

Matt didn’t say anything, just glanced toward the kitchen where Chris was already searching through the cabinets. The silence in the room was thick, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to spiral out of control.

Matt’s eyes narrowed, his gaze never leaving mine. “You’re out of luck,” he said flatly. “I need answers from him, and I’m not leaving here without them.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. The adrenaline was still coursing through me, but it didn’t make what Matt was saying any less terrifying. “What am I supposed to do then?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t have me involved in this. What if he finds out I’m wrapped up with you two?” The weight of the situation hit me, and the panic flared again. 

Chris looked at me thoughtfully, like he was considering my words, before his lips curled into a smirk. “We could always pretend we’re tying you up,” he suggested casually, his tone light despite the intensity of the situation. “Make it look like we’re waiting for him to come home. Keeps up the illusion that you’re just some innocent bystander.”

I stared at him, my pulse hammering. As much as I hated the idea, it was the only way I could keep from getting too tangled up in this mess. The alternative didn’t seem any better. “Fine,” I said, my voice tight. “Do it.”

Chris didn’t waste any time. He moved quickly to grab some rope from the kitchen drawer and expertly looped it around my wrists, securing it loosely enough to look real but not too tight to hurt. 

Time felt like it was dragging. The parents would be back in ten minutes, and I could already hear the faint sound of the clock ticking in the background, counting down the seconds. Chris worked quickly, securing the ropes around my wrists in a way that looked real enough to buy them some time, but not tight enough to cause pain.

When he was done, he stepped back, his eyes scanning his work. “That should do it,” he said with a satisfied nod.

Matt gave a small, approving grunt. But just before he turned to follow Chris, he paused and walked back toward me. “Look, I’m sorry it had to be this way,” he said, his voice quieter than before. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, something unexpectedly gentle in the gesture. “We didn’t mean to drag you into this. But I need him to talk, and I don’t have time to mess around.”

I sat still, the warmth of his kiss lingering, but the weight of everything else pressing down on me. The fear was still there, heavy in my chest, but the concern for the kids was all-consuming. If the dad worked for Matt and Chris, what else was going on in this house? 

“You didn’t drag me into any of this, If anything the dad did” I said quietly, my voice strained. “But I’ll play along for now. Just be careful, okay?”

Matt didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on me for a second longer before he turned and followed Chris to finish what they came for. As the seconds ticked by, I sat there, helpless but trying not to panic. The sounds of their movement faded into the background, but I couldn’t shake the tight knot in my stomach. The parents would be back any second now.

The tension in the air was thick, and the seconds felt like hours as I sat there, pretending to be helpless, the ropes pressing against my skin. My mind raced, my heart pounding with each sound that echoed through the house. Then, in the distance, I heard it—the unmistakable rumble of a car pulling into the driveway. My stomach dropped.

Matt didn’t waste a second. He moved quickly, crossing the room and grabbing a roll of tape from a nearby drawer. My eyes widened as he ripped off a strip and pressed it firmly over my mouth, silencing any protest I could have made. I wanted to yell, to ask what the hell was going on, but it was too late.

The door opened, and I heard footsteps from the entryway. The dad walked in, his expression shifting when he saw me tied up on the couch, the rope and the tape making me look like a hostage in some twisted game. His eyes darted between me and the two men who had been quietly lurking around the corner.

"What the hell happened here?" he demanded, his voice shaky with alarm.

Before he could move any closer, Matt and Chris stepped out from behind the corner, both of them with guns drawn, the cold metal glinting in the dim light of the living room. My heart skipped a beat as I tried to make eye contact with the dad, silently pleading with him to stay calm.

“Where’s Steven?” Matt demanded, his voice calm but dangerous, the kind of tone that sent a chill down your spine.

The dad blinked rapidly, his face pale as he took a step back. “I—I don’t know what you're talking about,” he stammered, his hands shaking slightly. “I don’t know where Steven is. I haven’t seen him in days. Please, just let her go. Whatever this is, it’s not about me—”

Chris stepped forward, his gaze cold and calculating. “You’re lying,” he growled. “We know he’s been here. Where are you hiding him?”

The mom came rushing in from behind, her eyes immediately locking on the scene in front of her. “What’s going on?!” she exclaimed, her voice rising in panic as she saw Matt and Chris with guns in hand. She froze when she saw me, my hands tied and the tape covering my mouth, but it didn’t take long for her to understand the situation.

The dad, now visibly sweating, held his hands out in front of him as if to ward them off. “I swear to God, I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen Steven. Please, you’ve got to believe me. You’ve got to believe us—we’re not involved in whatever this is!”

The mom stood beside him, nodding vigorously, her voice shaking as she added, “We don’t know anything! We’re just a normal family. Please, don’t hurt her.”

Matt and Chris exchanged a look, the tension still hanging in the air. Matt’s gaze never left the dad as he took a step forward. “I’ll be the judge of that. You’ve got five seconds to start talking, or this is going to get a lot worse for everyone here.”

Chris’s gaze never wavered from the dad as he stood there, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sneer, he glanced over at the wife, her face filled with confusion and fear. “Never told your wife you were dealing, huh?” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I guess you’ve got a lot of secrets, don’t you?”

The dad’s face went pale, and for a second, I thought he might break down. The wife blinked at Chris, confusion shifting to shock. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice small and trembling. “What do you mean, dealing?”

The dad’s resolve cracked. His shoulders slumped as he let out a shaky breath, and then he spilled everything. “A year ago... I lost my job. I didn’t know how I was going to pay the bills, take care of the kids... So I started dealing. I never told you. I never wanted you to know... I thought I could keep it all under control. I’m sorry…”

Matt let out a laugh, but it wasn’t a friendly one. “Shut up,” he said, cutting off the dad mid-sentence, his voice sharp and filled with annoyance. He stepped closer, gun still in hand, his gaze deadly serious. “Where’s Steven?”

The dad, now completely broken, didn’t hesitate. “Last I heard, he was hiding out at the warehouse in downtown Boston,” he said quickly, his voice cracking. “Please... Please don’t hurt them.”

Chris exchanged a look with Matt, who let out a short, amused snort. “You’re lucky this time,” Matt said, his voice icy. He motioned toward the door with his gun. “We’ll be back if you’re lying.”

With that, the two of them turned, walking toward the front door. They didn’t waste any time, leaving the house in silence, their footsteps echoing in the hallway before the door slammed shut behind them.

The mom stood there for a moment, still trying to process what had just happened. Then, she rushed over to me, her hands shaking as she fumbled with the ropes that had bound my wrists. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she muttered, her voice filled with regret. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know any of this.”

The dad slowly approached too, his face pale and stricken with guilt. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he said, his eyes full of sorrow.

I pulled away from them both, feigning a shaky breath and an overwhelmed look. “I just... I just want to go home,” I said, my voice trembling as I stared up at them, trying to hide the whirlwind of emotions that had been spinning in my head since Matt and Chris showed up.

I rubbed my wrists dramatically, still playing the part. “That was terrifying,” I added, swallowing hard as if trying to hold back tears. “I didn’t know what they were going to do to me.”

The dad’s face twisted in guilt as he finally finished untying me. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what to say...”

The mom nodded, her hands shaking as she reached out to offer a comforting gesture. “You’re safe now,” she said softly, but I could see the worry in her eyes, the fear that their world was crumbling down around them.

I stood up, finally free, and took a step back, putting my hands up in mock reassurance. “It’s fine,” I said, my tone shaky but sincere. “I just need to get out of here. I don’t want any part of this. I need to go home.”

The dad and mom exchanged a glance, both of them looking as if they wanted to apologize again, but I was already moving toward the door.

I barely waited for the front door to close before I bolted for my car. My pulse still hammering in my chest. I threw myself into the driver’s seat, slammed the door shut, and started the engine without hesitation.

My fingers were already reaching for my phone before I even pulled out of the driveway. I needed answers. I needed to know what was going on. As soon as the phone rang, I found Matt’s contact, pressing the call button.

When he finally answered, I didn’t hold back.

“Get the fuck to my apartment now!” I screamed into the phone, my voice raw “Now, Matt, now!”

Without waiting for him to respond, I ended the call, tossing my phone into the passenger seat as I sped off down the road. My mind was a blur of thoughts. My stomach churned, as I tried to keep my focus on the road.

By the time I reached my apartment, I could already see Matt’s car parked outside. My heart skipped a beat when I noticed Chris’s car next to it. As I slammed the car into park, I didn't hesitate to rush up the stairs to my door. I unlocked it quickly, my breath shallow as I stepped inside.

And there they were—Matt and Chris, already waiting for me.

Matt’s eyes lifted to mine, a slight grin tugging at his lips. “That was fast,” he said, leaning casually against the wall like nothing was out of the ordinary. Chris was seated on the couch, his eyes scanning the room, looking as unfazed as always.

I shut the door behind me, locking it quickly before turning to face them. My heart was still pounding, but now I felt a different kind of fury burning through me. 

“What the fuck is going on?” I snapped, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice. “Why did you go there?”

Matt pushed off the wall and took a step toward me, his expression still unreadable. “Relax,” he said, his tone cool. “I told you, Steven is on the run from us, with our money.”

I choked back. “What does that have to do with my kid's dad though? I'm never going to be able to watch them again, You know how much those kids mean to me.” This all felt way more personal than before.

Chris looked up at me, his brow arched in curiosity. “Why not?”

I shot him a glare, “I can't just act like being held hostage at their house is fine, Especially if they can't know I'm associated with you two.”

Matt walked over wrapping me in a tight hug, making all of the sadness of leaving my kids behind lessen a little.

I took a deep breath and relaxed into him. “So what happens now?” I asked, my voice quieter, the tension not fully leaving my shoulders.

Matt let go of me glancing at Chris before answering, his gaze steady. “Now, we wait for Steven to make a move. We’ll track him down, you don’t need to worry. You’re not a part of this anymore.”

“Fine,” I muttered, turning away from them and heading for the kitchen to grab a drink. I heard them both chuckle behind me, but I didn’t turn around. 

It was nearly 11 pm when the three of us settled into the couch, the glow of the TV flickering across the room. Matt was on one end, his feet propped up on the coffee table, and Chris sat next to me, barely paying attention to whatever show was on. The quiet voices of the TV was the only sound between us.

Chris was the first to break the silence, sitting up suddenly and glancing over at Matt. “Got a deal. We need to go kid.”

Matt’s eyes flicked toward Chris, a nod of acknowledgment passing between them. Then, Chris turned to me, his gaze lazy but with an edge to it. “You coming?”

Without thinking, I nodded. “Yeah. I’ll come.”

Maybe it was the restless energy buzzing inside me, or maybe it was just the adrenaline that hadn’t worn off from earlier. Either way, something inside me wanted to go, even if it was a bad idea.

We all stood, I followed Matt and Chris out the door. The cool night air hit me as soon as I stepped outside, and the headlights of Matt’s car cut through the darkness.

When we reached the car, Matt stopped, opening the back and grabbing a hoodie. He handed it to me without a word, his expression serious. “Put this on,” he said, his voice low. “Cover up. These men are scumbags.”

I hesitated for a second, glancing at him before pulling the hoodie on. The fabric swallowed me up. I could feel the weight of his words, the underlying warning behind them. Whoever these men were, they were dangerous. And for some reason, I was excited.

Matt gave me a quick glance, his eyes briefly softening before hardening again. “Let’s go.”

The ride was smooth, and despite the late hour, The hum of the engine filled the car as Matt drove, his hands gripping the wheel with effortless control.

In the backseat, I let myself relax, sinking into the leather, my gaze never leaving Matt. The low beats of Jukebox Joints by A$AP Rocky pulsed through the car, the rhythm adding to the easy vibe of the night. It was one of those moments that felt surreal, yet completely natural.

Matt’s jawline caught the light as he turned the wheel, the scruff of his stubbly beard lining it perfectly. I couldn’t help but watch how it framed his face, the way his blue eyes glowed under the streetlights, glimmering with a mix of cold determination and something else. Maybe it was the faintest softness I caught in them whenever he glanced in the rearview mirror, or the way his lips would curve into the smallest smile when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.

Matt may seem intimidating—hard, distant, cold. But he was perfect. Every inch of him, from the way his hands moved on the steering wheel to the way his eyes could make me feel like the only thing in the world, was exactly what I needed. I didn’t need to worry. With him in control, everything felt right.

I could feel my heart racing as I thought about him, how everything about him pulled me in deeper. No one had ever made me feel this way—safe, in a strange kind of way. He was exactly what I wanted, and the feeling of knowing that I was exactly where I was meant to be settled deep inside me.

We pulled up to a nondescript house that looked like it had seen better days. The lights were dim, casting shadows across the overgrown lawn. It wasn’t much to look at, but in this world, it didn’t need to be. The muffled noise from inside—the sound of loud voices, clinking glasses, and low laughter—told me everything I needed to know. The moment I stepped out of the car, I could feel the shift in the air, like I was stepping into something dark, something dangerous.

Matt moved ahead, confident, like he owned every inch of this place. Chris was close behind, his eyes scanning the surroundings, alert and ready. 

We reached the door and stepped inside, and immediately, the smell of smoke and alcohol hit me. The house was dark, dimly lit by a few weak lamps, the air thick with tension. I could hear the murmurs of conversation from the men hanging around, but as soon as we entered, the room seemed to freeze.

A few men glanced up, sizing the boys up. They were eyeing Matt and Chris, their faces changing from casual indifference to cautious recognition. These were the kinds of men who knew power when they saw it, and they recognized it immediately in Matt and Chris.

One of the men, a scruffy guy with a beer in hand, stepped forward, attempting a cocky smile. “Well, well,” he said, his voice dripping with false charm. “A couple of big shots. You boys here for business, or something else?”

Before I even had time to register his words, the room fell silent. The other men in the room watched the exchange, their gazes shifting uneasily between Matt and Chris. It was like they could feel the weight of the moment like everything had shifted in an instant.

Matt’s gaze flicked over to the guy, his eyes cold and calculating. He didn’t say a word, but his presence alone made the air feel heavy. His silence was more intimidating than any words could have been. He took one step forward, and the man with the beer faltered, taking a half step back as if instinctively knowing he was in over his head.

Chris, standing beside me, didn’t even glance at the guy. He just raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. 

The guy’s eyes widened slightly, and he hesitated. “Look, I didn’t mean anything,” he muttered, clearly unnerved now, his cocky grin gone. “Just—just tryin’ to be friendly.”

The room had gotten deathly quiet, every pair of eyes on Matt and Chris, every single person in that room recognizing the authority they held. Even the man who had been bold enough to speak was backing off, his shoulders slumping.

I wasn’t surprised. Matt and Chris had this effect on people—intimidating, relentless. The way they carried themselves, the unspoken threat that followed them—it made everyone else uneasy. They didn’t have to say much, because the energy they exuded did all the talking for them.

“Good,” Matt finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. He didn’t need to raise it. “Now, let’s get down to business.”

The tension in the room shifted once again, but this time it was with the unmistakable shift from uncertainty to compliance. Everyone knew their place now.

The man who had tried to make small talk took another step back, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, no problem,” he muttered, and just like that, he retreated to the couch, not daring to make another move.

Chris gave a small, almost bored, shrug as he turned to follow Matt deeper into the house. I stayed close behind them.

We walked into a dimly lit room that smelled of stale smoke and tension. The walls were lined with old, worn-out couches, and a few men were lounging around, talking low and eyeing us as we entered. I stayed close to Matt, feeling the weight of their stares.

Matt and Chris sat on one of the couches, and I followed them, sitting down beside Matt. The three men who had been sitting across the room stood and made their way over. They didn’t seem too eager to be here, but when Matt and Chris walked in, the vibe shifted, and they knew better than to act tough.

One of the men, a lanky guy with a beard, took a seat on the couch opposite, the other two following suit. 

Chris didn’t waste any time. He reached into his backpack, pulling out a couple of bricks of coke wrapped tightly in plastic. He placed them on the table with a soft thud, and the men’s eyes immediately locked onto the product, their faces betraying a mix of desire and calculation.

“Here’s the deal,” Chris said, his voice low but commanding. He looked directly at the guy who had been eyeing the coke the hardest. “Two bricks, top quality. You know the price. No games.”

The lanky guy nodded, his fingers twitching as he looked at the bricks. “Yeah, we know the price,” he said, his voice rough. “But we heard you’ve been slacking a bit. No one wants to be stuck with bad product, and we ain't in the habit of losing money.”

Chris didn’t flinch. He leaned back in his seat, his posture relaxed, but there was a dangerous edge to him. “If you think you’re gonna sit here and lecture me about quality,” he said calmly, “then maybe you’re in the wrong business. These are the best. You want them, you pay up. Simple.”

The men across from us exchanged quick glances, the tension palpable, but they all knew the deal wasn’t something they could just walk away from. Money was money, and coke was always in demand.

The man sitting closest to Chris leaned forward, taking a good look at the bricks, then glanced up at Matt, his eyes narrowing. “We don’t want any issues this time, Matt. You and Chris are tight, but we’ve heard some rumors. People get too greedy, things go south.”

Matt didn’t flinch. His stare was unyielding, like he wasn’t just the one who made the rules—he was the one who enforced them. His voice was calm but steady, the kind that didn’t allow for negotiation. “If you’ve got concerns, now’s the time to speak. But if you’re just here to waste time, we can walk out the door. I’m not here to argue over rumors.”

The guy swallowed, his jaw tightening. I could see it in their eyes. This wasn’t a game to them. It never was. But Matt made it clear it was his world, and they were just living in it.

The lanky guy looked at the bricks again, then back at Matt. “Alright,” he said, voice shaky now, “let’s do it, no bullshit. We’ll take them.”

Chris grinned, the deal sealed with a nod. The man reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a stack of cash.

Matt reached forward, his fingers brushing the cash as he slid it across the table. He counted it once, then twice, his eyes flicking back up to the men across from him, checking for any sign of hesitation.

“It’s all there,” Matt said, his voice calm but sharp. “Let’s go”

The deal had gone smoothly. The men gathered the bricks, standing quickly, eager to get out of there with the product they just secured. They didn’t dare linger.

Without a word, the men left the room, disappearing into the shadows of the house. The silence that followed felt heavier than before. The tension slowly dissipated, and I relaxed back into the couch, feeling the adrenaline from the deal finally settling.

Matt’s eyes met mine briefly before he stood, nodding to Chris. "Let's go. We've got what we need."

tag-

(divider by @cafekitsune) @tbfaptbfae @ch0llies @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @slut4christopherr @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend @emely9274 @sturnslutz @secret-sturniolo @vickytaa @matteatmeout @pair-of-pantaloons @theboredknightcat-blog @sturniolostuff @dariellemccaul @mamamadssss

[mattsobvimyfav]

How do u feel about tour

Personally, I dont care. I'm not their biggest fan; I think they're hot, so I write my fictions thinking of their faces, but I am not enough of a fan to spend money and take that ticket away from someone who loves them, tbh. Like @ch0llies knows

[mattsobvimyfav]

unknown

Y/N has always played it safe—balancing her job as a pediatric nurse, and her careful lifestyle. But one night out with her friend, Jordan, changes everything. When she meets Matt and Chris—two dangerous, enigmatic brothers—she’s drawn into a world she doesn’t belong in. But the more she resists, the harder they pulls her in.

pt 5

The sterile glow of fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead as I glanced at the clock—12:03 AM. The hospital never truly slept, even if the world outside did. The quiet hum of machines and the soft beeping of monitors filled the air, a constant reminder of the fragile lives within these walls. My scrubs felt heavier tonight, clinging to me with the weight of exhaustion that came with the night shift.

I made my rounds, clipboard in hand, checking vitals and adjusting IVs. Liam was my first stop, a six-year-old with a stubborn spirit and an even more stubborn case of pneumonia. He was awake, his big brown eyes peeking over the edge of his blanket. I smiled softly, trying to mask my fatigue.

“Hey, buddy,” I whispered, keeping my voice low. “How are we feeling?”

He gave me a weak thumbs-up, and I chuckled, adjusting his oxygen mask slightly. After checking his stats, I promised him a superhero sticker when he woke up in the morning. His small smile made the sleepless hours feel a little less heavy.

The night blurred into a routine of soft footsteps, hushed voices, and the occasional urgent call over the intercom. At 2:15 AM, I found myself in the NICU, staring down at fragile lives encased in plastic incubators. The tiniest of fingers twitched, and my heart clenched. I adjusted monitors, recorded notes, and offered comfort to anxious parents perched beside their babies.

By 4 AM, exhaustion was creeping in, settling into my bones like a chill I couldn’t shake. I slipped into the break room, cradling a lukewarm cup of coffee, my mind drifting to Matt. Wondering where he was, what he was doing, if he was okay.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me from my thoughts. A simple text lit up the screen: "You good?" It was Matt. Just two words, but they warmed me more than the coffee ever could.

"Thinking about you," I replied quickly before tucking the phone away. No time for distractions.

The final hours passed in a haze of routine checks, comforting whispers to restless children, and quiet moments spent beside tiny hands gripping mine. When 7 AM finally arrived, the morning shift trickling in like a tide washing over weary sands, I felt the weight of the night pressing down.

But as I stepped outside, the first light of dawn brushing the horizon, I realized that even in exhaustion, there was a strange sense of peace. The world was waking up, and I was heading home.

The sky was painted in soft hues of pink and orange as I pulled into my driveway, the exhaustion from my shift weighing heavily on me. My limbs felt like lead, my mind foggy with fatigue, but something sharp pierced through the haze—Matt’s car parked across the street.

I frowned, squinting against the early morning light. He was there, slouched in the driver’s seat, his eyes dark and focused, scanning the street like he was expecting trouble. My heart skipped a beat, a mixture of surprise and something else I couldn’t quite name.

I crossed the street, my footsteps quiet against the pavement. As I approached his car, he rolled down the window, his gaze softening when it landed on me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice low, still rough from the long night.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The guy from the other night… he’s on the run. Chris and I haven’t been able to track him down yet.” His jaw tightened, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes. “I didn’t know what time you got off and I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

My heart twisted, the fatigue momentarily forgotten. “You… you sat here all night?”

He shrugged, like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing. Not to me.

“Come in,” I said softly, reaching for the door handle. “You must be tired.”

Matt didn’t argue. He killed the engine and followed me inside, his presence filling the quiet space of my house like he belonged there. I kicked off my shoes, feeling the exhaustion crash over me again.

“I’m gonna shower,” I mumbled, heading toward the bathroom.

“Alright,” he replied, already making his way to my bedroom, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The hot water was a welcome relief, washing away the hospital’s sterile scent and the tension clinging to my skin. But my mind kept drifting to Matt, to the way he watched over me without expecting anything in return.

When I finally emerged, wrapped in a towel, the house was silent except for the faint creak of the bed as he shifted. I peeked into the bedroom, finding him lying there, his eyes half-closed but still alert, as if he couldn’t fully relax.

I slipped into some fresh clothes and climbed into bed beside him. Without a word, he reached for me, pulling me close, his arm draped over my waist, grounding me.

“Thank you,” I whispered into the quiet.

He didn’t respond, but the way his fingers traced slow, lazy circles on my back said everything.

The soft glow of afternoon sunlight filtered through the blinds when I slowly blinked awake. The clock on my nightstand read 2:03 PM. Matt was still beside me, one arm draped lazily over my waist, his breathing steady and even. I shifted slightly, and his eyes opened, sharp and clear, like he'd never truly been asleep.

“I need to head home soon,” he murmured, his voice husky from sleep. “Got some business to handle tonight. You wanna come?”

I stretched, suppressing a yawn. “I can’t. I have to watch the kids I nanny around five. Their parents are going out for a date night.”

Matt propped himself up on one elbow, his brows knitting together in concern. “You work too much.”

I gave him a soft smile, brushing a stray hair from his face. “I like staying busy. Plus, it’s good money.”

He sighed, his hand trailing down my arm. “I just don’t want you running yourself into the ground.”

“I’m fine, Matt. Really.”

I finally decided to get moving. I didn’t have much time before I needed to be at the kids’ house by 4:45, so I hurried through my usual routine. Matt was gone by now and the sun was beating down outside. I was just thankful I could get away with something casual today.

I slipped into a pair of jean shorts and grabbed a cropped top from my closet. It was light and breathable, perfect for a long night with the kids. I didn’t even think twice about it as I tossed on my pair of Converse sneakers.

I checked the time—4:30 pm. With my bag slung over my shoulder, I grabbed my keys off the counter and headed out the door, feeling the heat of the afternoon sun on my skin as I made my way to the car. 

The moment I stepped through the door, they practically tackled me with hugs. It’s funny how quickly they latch on to you, like you’re part of the family.

By the time dinner came around, the house was full of energy. Little voices chattered away while I tried to make sure they ate at least a decent portion of their meals. I was used to it by now, this constant dance of playing, tidying up, refereeing fights, and making sure nobody was covered in food by the end of it.

Around 7:45, I herded them into their bedrooms, the youngest curled up under her princess blanket, the older one complaining about the “boring” bedtime story I always read. I brushed it off, knowing the moment I left the room, they’d be fast asleep. And they were.

By 8:00, the house was quiet again. It always feels surreal after a day of chaos. I sat on the couch, scrolling through my phone, the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old house the only sounds filling the space.

Then, I heard it. A noise. Soft at first, but unmistakable—a scraping sound, like something dragging across the floor. I froze. My heart started racing, and I quickly glanced around, the hair on the back of my neck standing up. It couldn’t be the kids. They were in bed, fast asleep, I was sure of it.

The noise came again, this time louder. I stood up slowly, trying not to make a sound, but the air felt thick. I moved toward the kitchen, my steps quieter than normal, and grabbed the first thing I could find—a sharp knife from the counter. My fingers tightened around the handle, the cool metal grounding me in this strange mix of fear and caution.

I took a deep breath and steadied myself, then moved toward the sound.

I took another step toward the sound, my grip tightening around the knife. But before I could even get another step closer, someone grabbed me from behind, their arm wrapping around my waist and a hand clamping over my mouth. My heart slammed in my chest as I struggled, but the grip was too strong. The knife slipped from my hand, clattering to the floor.

Panic surged in my veins. I tried to twist free, but then I felt something cold press against the side of my head, a faint metallic sensation that made my stomach drop. My breath caught in my throat, and just as I was about to scream, the grip on me loosened slightly, and the voice I dreaded hearing cut through the tension.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” My mind went blank as I turned my head at the all to familiar voice and caught sight of someone walking towards me. Matt. 

I tilt my head and look up at the person restraining me, already knowing who I will be met with. Chris. 

I gasped, finally pushing myself away from him as he let go. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I snapped, my heart racing from the shock and sudden release.

Matt’s jaw clenched, and he stepped closer, his eyes scanning the room quickly before focusing back on me. “This is one of our dealer's house,” he said, voice low but urgent. “We think the guy who lives here is stashing someone—someone we’re looking for.”

I shook my head, still trying to process what was happening, the fear slowly turning into disbelief. “That’s impossible,” I said, backing up a step. “The man who lives here is… he’s the dad of the kids I nanny for.”

Matt’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he glanced toward Chris, who was already walking toward the kitchen. “You think you know what he does in his free time?” he asked, voice a bit colder now, as if doubting me.

“I don't know- I thought,” my voice shaking a little. I didn’t know what the hell was going on. I've known him for years, I didn't think there was any way the man who took care of those kids would be involved in whatever shady dealings Matt and Chris were wrapped up in.

Matt didn’t say anything, just glanced toward the kitchen where Chris was already searching through the cabinets. The silence in the room was thick, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to spiral out of control.

Matt’s eyes narrowed, his gaze never leaving mine. “You’re out of luck,” he said flatly. “I need answers from him, and I’m not leaving here without them.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. The adrenaline was still coursing through me, but it didn’t make what Matt was saying any less terrifying. “What am I supposed to do then?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t have me involved in this. What if he finds out I’m wrapped up with you two?” The weight of the situation hit me, and the panic flared again. 

Chris looked at me thoughtfully, like he was considering my words, before his lips curled into a smirk. “We could always pretend we’re tying you up,” he suggested casually, his tone light despite the intensity of the situation. “Make it look like we’re waiting for him to come home. Keeps up the illusion that you’re just some innocent bystander.”

I stared at him, my pulse hammering. As much as I hated the idea, it was the only way I could keep from getting too tangled up in this mess. The alternative didn’t seem any better. “Fine,” I said, my voice tight. “Do it.”

Chris didn’t waste any time. He moved quickly to grab some rope from the kitchen drawer and expertly looped it around my wrists, securing it loosely enough to look real but not too tight to hurt. 

Time felt like it was dragging. The parents would be back in ten minutes, and I could already hear the faint sound of the clock ticking in the background, counting down the seconds. Chris worked quickly, securing the ropes around my wrists in a way that looked real enough to buy them some time, but not tight enough to cause pain.

When he was done, he stepped back, his eyes scanning his work. “That should do it,” he said with a satisfied nod.

Matt gave a small, approving grunt. But just before he turned to follow Chris, he paused and walked back toward me. “Look, I’m sorry it had to be this way,” he said, his voice quieter than before. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, something unexpectedly gentle in the gesture. “We didn’t mean to drag you into this. But I need him to talk, and I don’t have time to mess around.”

I sat still, the warmth of his kiss lingering, but the weight of everything else pressing down on me. The fear was still there, heavy in my chest, but the concern for the kids was all-consuming. If the dad worked for Matt and Chris, what else was going on in this house? 

“You didn’t drag me into any of this, If anything the dad did” I said quietly, my voice strained. “But I’ll play along for now. Just be careful, okay?”

Matt didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on me for a second longer before he turned and followed Chris to finish what they came for. As the seconds ticked by, I sat there, helpless but trying not to panic. The sounds of their movement faded into the background, but I couldn’t shake the tight knot in my stomach. The parents would be back any second now.

The tension in the air was thick, and the seconds felt like hours as I sat there, pretending to be helpless, the ropes pressing against my skin. My mind raced, my heart pounding with each sound that echoed through the house. Then, in the distance, I heard it—the unmistakable rumble of a car pulling into the driveway. My stomach dropped.

Matt didn’t waste a second. He moved quickly, crossing the room and grabbing a roll of tape from a nearby drawer. My eyes widened as he ripped off a strip and pressed it firmly over my mouth, silencing any protest I could have made. I wanted to yell, to ask what the hell was going on, but it was too late.

The door opened, and I heard footsteps from the entryway. The dad walked in, his expression shifting when he saw me tied up on the couch, the rope and the tape making me look like a hostage in some twisted game. His eyes darted between me and the two men who had been quietly lurking around the corner.

"What the hell happened here?" he demanded, his voice shaky with alarm.

Before he could move any closer, Matt and Chris stepped out from behind the corner, both of them with guns drawn, the cold metal glinting in the dim light of the living room. My heart skipped a beat as I tried to make eye contact with the dad, silently pleading with him to stay calm.

“Where’s Steven?” Matt demanded, his voice calm but dangerous, the kind of tone that sent a chill down your spine.

The dad blinked rapidly, his face pale as he took a step back. “I—I don’t know what you're talking about,” he stammered, his hands shaking slightly. “I don’t know where Steven is. I haven’t seen him in days. Please, just let her go. Whatever this is, it’s not about me—”

Chris stepped forward, his gaze cold and calculating. “You’re lying,” he growled. “We know he’s been here. Where are you hiding him?”

The mom came rushing in from behind, her eyes immediately locking on the scene in front of her. “What’s going on?!” she exclaimed, her voice rising in panic as she saw Matt and Chris with guns in hand. She froze when she saw me, my hands tied and the tape covering my mouth, but it didn’t take long for her to understand the situation.

The dad, now visibly sweating, held his hands out in front of him as if to ward them off. “I swear to God, I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen Steven. Please, you’ve got to believe me. You’ve got to believe us—we’re not involved in whatever this is!”

The mom stood beside him, nodding vigorously, her voice shaking as she added, “We don’t know anything! We’re just a normal family. Please, don’t hurt her.”

Matt and Chris exchanged a look, the tension still hanging in the air. Matt’s gaze never left the dad as he took a step forward. “I’ll be the judge of that. You’ve got five seconds to start talking, or this is going to get a lot worse for everyone here.”

Chris’s gaze never wavered from the dad as he stood there, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sneer, he glanced over at the wife, her face filled with confusion and fear. “Never told your wife you were dealing, huh?” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I guess you’ve got a lot of secrets, don’t you?”

The dad’s face went pale, and for a second, I thought he might break down. The wife blinked at Chris, confusion shifting to shock. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice small and trembling. “What do you mean, dealing?”

The dad’s resolve cracked. His shoulders slumped as he let out a shaky breath, and then he spilled everything. “A year ago... I lost my job. I didn’t know how I was going to pay the bills, take care of the kids... So I started dealing. I never told you. I never wanted you to know... I thought I could keep it all under control. I’m sorry…”

Matt let out a laugh, but it wasn’t a friendly one. “Shut up,” he said, cutting off the dad mid-sentence, his voice sharp and filled with annoyance. He stepped closer, gun still in hand, his gaze deadly serious. “Where’s Steven?”

The dad, now completely broken, didn’t hesitate. “Last I heard, he was hiding out at the warehouse in downtown Boston,” he said quickly, his voice cracking. “Please... Please don’t hurt them.”

Chris exchanged a look with Matt, who let out a short, amused snort. “You’re lucky this time,” Matt said, his voice icy. He motioned toward the door with his gun. “We’ll be back if you’re lying.”

With that, the two of them turned, walking toward the front door. They didn’t waste any time, leaving the house in silence, their footsteps echoing in the hallway before the door slammed shut behind them.

The mom stood there for a moment, still trying to process what had just happened. Then, she rushed over to me, her hands shaking as she fumbled with the ropes that had bound my wrists. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she muttered, her voice filled with regret. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know any of this.”

The dad slowly approached too, his face pale and stricken with guilt. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he said, his eyes full of sorrow.

I pulled away from them both, feigning a shaky breath and an overwhelmed look. “I just... I just want to go home,” I said, my voice trembling as I stared up at them, trying to hide the whirlwind of emotions that had been spinning in my head since Matt and Chris showed up.

I rubbed my wrists dramatically, still playing the part. “That was terrifying,” I added, swallowing hard as if trying to hold back tears. “I didn’t know what they were going to do to me.”

The dad’s face twisted in guilt as he finally finished untying me. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what to say...”

The mom nodded, her hands shaking as she reached out to offer a comforting gesture. “You’re safe now,” she said softly, but I could see the worry in her eyes, the fear that their world was crumbling down around them.

I stood up, finally free, and took a step back, putting my hands up in mock reassurance. “It’s fine,” I said, my tone shaky but sincere. “I just need to get out of here. I don’t want any part of this. I need to go home.”

The dad and mom exchanged a glance, both of them looking as if they wanted to apologize again, but I was already moving toward the door.

I barely waited for the front door to close before I bolted for my car. My pulse still hammering in my chest. I threw myself into the driver’s seat, slammed the door shut, and started the engine without hesitation.

My fingers were already reaching for my phone before I even pulled out of the driveway. I needed answers. I needed to know what was going on. As soon as the phone rang, I found Matt’s contact, pressing the call button.

When he finally answered, I didn’t hold back.

“Get the fuck to my apartment now!” I screamed into the phone, my voice raw “Now, Matt, now!”

Without waiting for him to respond, I ended the call, tossing my phone into the passenger seat as I sped off down the road. My mind was a blur of thoughts. My stomach churned, as I tried to keep my focus on the road.

By the time I reached my apartment, I could already see Matt’s car parked outside. My heart skipped a beat when I noticed Chris’s car next to it. As I slammed the car into park, I didn't hesitate to rush up the stairs to my door. I unlocked it quickly, my breath shallow as I stepped inside.

And there they were—Matt and Chris, already waiting for me.

Matt’s eyes lifted to mine, a slight grin tugging at his lips. “That was fast,” he said, leaning casually against the wall like nothing was out of the ordinary. Chris was seated on the couch, his eyes scanning the room, looking as unfazed as always.

I shut the door behind me, locking it quickly before turning to face them. My heart was still pounding, but now I felt a different kind of fury burning through me. 

“What the fuck is going on?” I snapped, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice. “Why did you go there?”

Matt pushed off the wall and took a step toward me, his expression still unreadable. “Relax,” he said, his tone cool. “I told you, Steven is on the run from us, with our money.”

I choked back. “What does that have to do with my kid's dad though? I'm never going to be able to watch them again, You know how much those kids mean to me.” This all felt way more personal than before.

Chris looked up at me, his brow arched in curiosity. “Why not?”

I shot him a glare, “I can't just act like being held hostage at their house is fine, Especially if they can't know I'm associated with you two.”

Matt walked over wrapping me in a tight hug, making all of the sadness of leaving my kids behind lessen a little.

I took a deep breath and relaxed into him. “So what happens now?” I asked, my voice quieter, the tension not fully leaving my shoulders.

Matt let go of me glancing at Chris before answering, his gaze steady. “Now, we wait for Steven to make a move. We’ll track him down, you don’t need to worry. You’re not a part of this anymore.”

“Fine,” I muttered, turning away from them and heading for the kitchen to grab a drink. I heard them both chuckle behind me, but I didn’t turn around. 

It was nearly 11 pm when the three of us settled into the couch, the glow of the TV flickering across the room. Matt was on one end, his feet propped up on the coffee table, and Chris sat next to me, barely paying attention to whatever show was on. The quiet voices of the TV was the only sound between us.

Chris was the first to break the silence, sitting up suddenly and glancing over at Matt. “Got a deal. We need to go kid.”

Matt’s eyes flicked toward Chris, a nod of acknowledgment passing between them. Then, Chris turned to me, his gaze lazy but with an edge to it. “You coming?”

Without thinking, I nodded. “Yeah. I’ll come.”

Maybe it was the restless energy buzzing inside me, or maybe it was just the adrenaline that hadn’t worn off from earlier. Either way, something inside me wanted to go, even if it was a bad idea.

We all stood, I followed Matt and Chris out the door. The cool night air hit me as soon as I stepped outside, and the headlights of Matt’s car cut through the darkness.

When we reached the car, Matt stopped, opening the back and grabbing a hoodie. He handed it to me without a word, his expression serious. “Put this on,” he said, his voice low. “Cover up. These men are scumbags.”

I hesitated for a second, glancing at him before pulling the hoodie on. The fabric swallowed me up. I could feel the weight of his words, the underlying warning behind them. Whoever these men were, they were dangerous. And for some reason, I was excited.

Matt gave me a quick glance, his eyes briefly softening before hardening again. “Let’s go.”

The ride was smooth, and despite the late hour, The hum of the engine filled the car as Matt drove, his hands gripping the wheel with effortless control.

In the backseat, I let myself relax, sinking into the leather, my gaze never leaving Matt. The low beats of Jukebox Joints by A$AP Rocky pulsed through the car, the rhythm adding to the easy vibe of the night. It was one of those moments that felt surreal, yet completely natural.

Matt’s jawline caught the light as he turned the wheel, the scruff of his stubbly beard lining it perfectly. I couldn’t help but watch how it framed his face, the way his blue eyes glowed under the streetlights, glimmering with a mix of cold determination and something else. Maybe it was the faintest softness I caught in them whenever he glanced in the rearview mirror, or the way his lips would curve into the smallest smile when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.

Matt may seem intimidating—hard, distant, cold. But he was perfect. Every inch of him, from the way his hands moved on the steering wheel to the way his eyes could make me feel like the only thing in the world, was exactly what I needed. I didn’t need to worry. With him in control, everything felt right.

I could feel my heart racing as I thought about him, how everything about him pulled me in deeper. No one had ever made me feel this way—safe, in a strange kind of way. He was exactly what I wanted, and the feeling of knowing that I was exactly where I was meant to be settled deep inside me.

We pulled up to a nondescript house that looked like it had seen better days. The lights were dim, casting shadows across the overgrown lawn. It wasn’t much to look at, but in this world, it didn’t need to be. The muffled noise from inside—the sound of loud voices, clinking glasses, and low laughter—told me everything I needed to know. The moment I stepped out of the car, I could feel the shift in the air, like I was stepping into something dark, something dangerous.

Matt moved ahead, confident, like he owned every inch of this place. Chris was close behind, his eyes scanning the surroundings, alert and ready. 

We reached the door and stepped inside, and immediately, the smell of smoke and alcohol hit me. The house was dark, dimly lit by a few weak lamps, the air thick with tension. I could hear the murmurs of conversation from the men hanging around, but as soon as we entered, the room seemed to freeze.

A few men glanced up, sizing the boys up. They were eyeing Matt and Chris, their faces changing from casual indifference to cautious recognition. These were the kinds of men who knew power when they saw it, and they recognized it immediately in Matt and Chris.

One of the men, a scruffy guy with a beer in hand, stepped forward, attempting a cocky smile. “Well, well,” he said, his voice dripping with false charm. “A couple of big shots. You boys here for business, or something else?”

Before I even had time to register his words, the room fell silent. The other men in the room watched the exchange, their gazes shifting uneasily between Matt and Chris. It was like they could feel the weight of the moment like everything had shifted in an instant.

Matt’s gaze flicked over to the guy, his eyes cold and calculating. He didn’t say a word, but his presence alone made the air feel heavy. His silence was more intimidating than any words could have been. He took one step forward, and the man with the beer faltered, taking a half step back as if instinctively knowing he was in over his head.

Chris, standing beside me, didn’t even glance at the guy. He just raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. 

The guy’s eyes widened slightly, and he hesitated. “Look, I didn’t mean anything,” he muttered, clearly unnerved now, his cocky grin gone. “Just—just tryin’ to be friendly.”

The room had gotten deathly quiet, every pair of eyes on Matt and Chris, every single person in that room recognizing the authority they held. Even the man who had been bold enough to speak was backing off, his shoulders slumping.

I wasn’t surprised. Matt and Chris had this effect on people—intimidating, relentless. The way they carried themselves, the unspoken threat that followed them—it made everyone else uneasy. They didn’t have to say much, because the energy they exuded did all the talking for them.

“Good,” Matt finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. He didn’t need to raise it. “Now, let’s get down to business.”

The tension in the room shifted once again, but this time it was with the unmistakable shift from uncertainty to compliance. Everyone knew their place now.

The man who had tried to make small talk took another step back, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, no problem,” he muttered, and just like that, he retreated to the couch, not daring to make another move.

Chris gave a small, almost bored, shrug as he turned to follow Matt deeper into the house. I stayed close behind them.

We walked into a dimly lit room that smelled of stale smoke and tension. The walls were lined with old, worn-out couches, and a few men were lounging around, talking low and eyeing us as we entered. I stayed close to Matt, feeling the weight of their stares.

Matt and Chris sat on one of the couches, and I followed them, sitting down beside Matt. The three men who had been sitting across the room stood and made their way over. They didn’t seem too eager to be here, but when Matt and Chris walked in, the vibe shifted, and they knew better than to act tough.

One of the men, a lanky guy with a beard, took a seat on the couch opposite, the other two following suit. 

Chris didn’t waste any time. He reached into his backpack, pulling out a couple of bricks of coke wrapped tightly in plastic. He placed them on the table with a soft thud, and the men’s eyes immediately locked onto the product, their faces betraying a mix of desire and calculation.

“Here’s the deal,” Chris said, his voice low but commanding. He looked directly at the guy who had been eyeing the coke the hardest. “Two bricks, top quality. You know the price. No games.”

The lanky guy nodded, his fingers twitching as he looked at the bricks. “Yeah, we know the price,” he said, his voice rough. “But we heard you’ve been slacking a bit. No one wants to be stuck with bad product, and we ain't in the habit of losing money.”

Chris didn’t flinch. He leaned back in his seat, his posture relaxed, but there was a dangerous edge to him. “If you think you’re gonna sit here and lecture me about quality,” he said calmly, “then maybe you’re in the wrong business. These are the best. You want them, you pay up. Simple.”

The men across from us exchanged quick glances, the tension palpable, but they all knew the deal wasn’t something they could just walk away from. Money was money, and coke was always in demand.

The man sitting closest to Chris leaned forward, taking a good look at the bricks, then glanced up at Matt, his eyes narrowing. “We don’t want any issues this time, Matt. You and Chris are tight, but we’ve heard some rumors. People get too greedy, things go south.”

Matt didn’t flinch. His stare was unyielding, like he wasn’t just the one who made the rules—he was the one who enforced them. His voice was calm but steady, the kind that didn’t allow for negotiation. “If you’ve got concerns, now’s the time to speak. But if you’re just here to waste time, we can walk out the door. I’m not here to argue over rumors.”

The guy swallowed, his jaw tightening. I could see it in their eyes. This wasn’t a game to them. It never was. But Matt made it clear it was his world, and they were just living in it.

The lanky guy looked at the bricks again, then back at Matt. “Alright,” he said, voice shaky now, “let’s do it, no bullshit. We’ll take them.”

Chris grinned, the deal sealed with a nod. The man reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a stack of cash.

Matt reached forward, his fingers brushing the cash as he slid it across the table. He counted it once, then twice, his eyes flicking back up to the men across from him, checking for any sign of hesitation.

“It’s all there,” Matt said, his voice calm but sharp. “Let’s go”

The deal had gone smoothly. The men gathered the bricks, standing quickly, eager to get out of there with the product they just secured. They didn’t dare linger.

Without a word, the men left the room, disappearing into the shadows of the house. The silence that followed felt heavier than before. The tension slowly dissipated, and I relaxed back into the couch, feeling the adrenaline from the deal finally settling.

Matt’s eyes met mine briefly before he stood, nodding to Chris. "Let's go. We've got what we need."

tag-

(divider by @cafekitsune) @tbfaptbfae @ch0llies @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @slut4christopherr @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend @emely9274 @sturnslutz @secret-sturniolo @vickytaa @matteatmeout @pair-of-pantaloons @theboredknightcat-blog @sturniolostuff @dariellemccaul @mamamadssss

[mattsobvimyfav]

i want to touch him crazy

He’s just ugh

Like ughhhh

[mattsobvimyfav]

I hope the announcement is tip reveals.

That's all thats the post.

[mattsobvimyfav]

I’m bouta bust holy shit

[mattsobvimyfav]

i’m laughing so hard i can’t breathe.

[mattsobvimyfav]

ALL MINE | CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO

oneshot - chris x reader

you know you shouldn’t be here- not with him. You have a boyfriend, but when you lock eyes with Chris from across the club, all of that fades into the background. It’s been weeks since you’ve seen him and the second you step into his apartment, you know it’s wraps. It’s wrong. It’s reckless. But with his hands on your waist and his lips crashing against yours, you can’t bring yourself to care.

story warnings: smut, cheating, dom!chris x brat!reader, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, squirting, overstimulation, if any of these topics upset you... don't read!

word count: 5k

requested by @sturnluv0w3n - hope you enjoy!🧡

You feel his eyes on you.

Chris is watching. He always watches. You knew he’d be here. That’s why you convinced your girlfriend to come to this club. You wanted him to watch you.

You know it’s wrong. But that doesn’t stop you.

The bass thumps through the club, rattling your chest as you sway your hips to the beat, your fingers running lazily along the rim of your glass before bringing it to your lips. The drink is sweet, dangerously so, but nothing compares to Chris’s stare burning into your skin from across the room.

You don’t look at him. Not yet.

Instead, you tilt your head back, exposing the column of your throat as you down the rest of your drink in one slow, deliberate motion. The ice clinks as you set the glass down, your body moving fluidly, deliberately, as if the music itself commands you. You arch your back just enough to accentuate the dip of your waist, your fingers trailing along the hem of your dress as you lift your arms, stretching, teasing.

You know exactly what you’re doing.

Your friends are laughing beside you, oblivious to the storm brewing just a few feet away. And then your eyes finally meet his.

Chris is leaned against the bar, his jaw clenched, a drink swirling in his hand. His dark gaze is locked on you, heavy, intense, filled with something raw and possessive that sends a thrill up your spine. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his grip tightening around the glass, and you know you’ve won.

But this game is dangerous.

You can feel your phone buzzing in your purse- probably your boyfriend checking in, wondering if you’re having fun, if you miss him. And maybe you should feel guilty. Maybe you should step away, pretend Chris isn’t here, pretend you haven’t been craving this exact moment for weeks.

But instead, you slip away from your friends, weaving through the crowd as if you’re just going to the bar for another drink. You make sure they’re still distracted before you stop beside Chris, your fingers grazing the cool countertop.

“Didn't know you’d be here tonight,” you murmur, keeping your eyes forward, letting your nails tap against the bar, slow and teasing.

“Liar,” he mutters under his breath, leaning in just enough that his lips graze the shell of your ear. His scent wraps around you, making it even harder to think clearly.

“Careful,” you warn, but your voice lacks conviction.

Chris hums, his fingers brushing the small of your back, barely there but enough to send a shiver through you. “You really want me to be careful?”

No. But you can’t say that.

Instead, you turn your head just slightly, your lips a breath away from his. “Not here.”

His smirk is slow, dangerous. “Then let’s go.”

Your heart pounds as you glance over your shoulder. Your friends are still caught up in their own conversations, none of them paying attention to you. It’s now or never.

With a deep breath, you grab your phone from your purse, quickly typing out a message- something about needing fresh air, that you’ll be right back. And then, without another word, you let Chris lead you through the crowd, out the side exit into the cool night air.

This is wrong.

But with Chris’s fingers laced through yours, his gaze dark with promise, you know one thing for certain.

You’re not saying no.

Chris pushes open the heavy club door, and the crisp Boston night air rushes over you, cooling the heat still lingering on your skin. The city is alive at this hour- cars honking, neon lights flashing against the wet pavement, the scent of late-night food vendors wafting through the streets. But none of that matters. The only thing that does is him.

You watch as Chris steps forward, effortlessly flagging down a taxi with a sharp wave of his hand. The streetlights cast a glow over him, highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the way his messy brown curls peek out from beneath his beanie. His facial hair is longer than the last time you saw him- just enough scruff to make him look even more sexy, even more tempting. Like the picture you’ve stared at too many times, touched yourself to too many times, the one you shouldn’t even have saved.

And fuck, does he look good.

He’s in all black- loose cargo pants hanging low on his hips, a snug black wifebeater that clings to his lean frame, an orange sweatshirt slung lazily over his shoulder. It’s effortless, careless, but so goddamn sexy it makes your stomach tighten. His white sneakers scuff lightly against the pavement as he steps toward you, his sharp gaze flickering over your face, reading you like he always does.

“You coming or what?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s an edge to it. Like he already knows your answer. Like he’s daring you to say no.

You glance over your shoulder- back toward the club, back toward the life you’re supposed to be leading. Your friends are inside, your boyfriend’s probably waiting for a text, but right now, none of it feels real. The only thing that does is Chris, standing in front of you, his lips curling into that smirk that always gets you into trouble.

You don’t respond. You just step forward, closing the space between you, letting him open the taxi door for you.

The cab door slams shut behind you, enclosing you both in a bubble of tension so thick you can practically taste it. Chris leans forward, rattling off his address to the driver like it’s second nature- like you haven’t been there before, like you haven’t already spent too many nights tangled up in his sheets, doing things you swear you’d never do again.

You settle into the seat beside him, the city lights flashing in blurred streaks outside the window. Taking a breath, you reach into your purse, pulling out your phone to use as a mirror. Your lipstick is smudged, just a little, so you twist the tube open and drag the color back across your lips, slow and deliberate.

Chris exhales sharply beside you, and you catch the way he shifts in his seat.

“Aye,” he murmurs, nudging your arm. “Knock it off.”

You arch a brow but don’t stop, pursing your lips together to even out the shade. “Why?”

Chris watches you, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip like he’s deciding something. Then, before you can react, he leans in- close enough that you feel the heat of his breath against your ear, his voice dropping into something dark, something meant just for you.

“Because I don’t want that shit all over my cock when it’s ramming between your lips tonight.”

Your breath catches.

Heat flashes through your body, pooling low in your stomach, and suddenly, the taxi feels a hell of a lot smaller. Your fingers twitch around the lipstick, but you quickly snap it shut, shoving it back into your purse as you sit up straighter, legs crossing instinctively.

Chris leans back, satisfied, a slow grin stretching across his face. “Yeah,” he murmurs, eyes flickering down to your legs before dragging back up to meet your gaze. “There ya go.”

Cocky asshole.

But you don’t have anything to say. Not when your pulse is racing, not when your thighs press together involuntarily, not when you already know you’re completely and utterly fucked tonight.

The taxi pulls up in front of his place, the familiar building looming in the dim glow of the streetlights. Your pulse quickens, anticipation crackling in the air like static electricity.

Before you can even think about reaching for the door handle, Chris is already moving. He steps out first, slipping the cab driver some cash through the window, murmuring something low that you don’t quite catch. Then, he turns back, opening your door.

His hand extends toward you, fingers curled slightly in invitation. “C’mon,” he murmurs.

You slip your hand into his. His grip is firm, steady, and he helps you out of the cab, his other hand instinctively settling against your waist as you adjust yourself. The heels you’re wearing make it a little tricky, but Chris steadies you effortlessly, like he’s done this a hundred times before. Because he has.

You swallow hard as he leads you up the steps, unlocking the door with a swift flick of his wrist. And then-

The door slams shut behind you, and he’s on you.

Chris’s hands find your hips, pulling you flush against him as his mouth crashes onto yours. It’s urgent, desperate, like he’s been starving for weeks and you’re the only thing that can satisfy him. His fingers dig into your waist, pressing you back against the door as his lips move against yours- hot, demanding, possessive.

You barely have time to react before he’s tilting your chin up, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping over yours in a way that makes your knees feel weak. His breath is warm, his scent intoxicating, and every single thought of right and wrong evaporates the second he presses his body against yours, pinning you between him and the door.

“Knew you’d be back” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low, rough, edged with something dangerous, “You always come back to me, don’t you?”

You roll your eyes but tangle your fingers in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp as he backs you into his room on his bed.

Clothes hit the floor, messy and frantic and within minutes you’re both left in nothing but your undergarments, like every other time before. Like nothing’s changed. And honestly, nothing has. This is just how it is with him.

And tomorrow- tomorrow, you’ll pretend to hate yourself for this. But you know you’ll find yourself back in his sheets within the week.

Chris smirks against your lips, dragging them down your jaw, your neck, leaving heat in his wake as he hovers over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. “Oh so we’re gonna pretend we won’t do this again, aren’t we?”

Your breath hitches, nails digging into his back, dragging over bare skin. He’s right. You both know it.

But you let yourself pretend anyway.

“Shut up and fuck me, Chris.”

He chuckles deeply, his breath hot against your skin. “You say that like I wasn’t already planning on it,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement and pure filth.

His mouth crashes against yours, all heat and desperation, hands sliding down your body like he’s refreshing every inch of you to memory. His fingers toy with the edge of your underwear, teasing, torturing, making you squirm beneath him.

“Patience, ma,” he hums against your lips, but his own restraint is already fraying.

He presses his body flush against yours, his lips never straying too far, never giving you the space to think- to regret. His fingers slip beneath the fabric at your hip, teasing, dragging over the sensitive skin right above your crotch.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, a silent plea, but he just chuckles, reveling in the way you react to him.

“You’re restless already, ma,” he taunts, his voice low, teasing. “What happened to all that attitude?”

You glare up at him, frustration bubbling in your chest, but before you can snap back, he presses his hips into yours, rolling against you in a way that steals every coherent thought from your mind.

Your breath catches, your fingers tightening their grip on his skin, and Chris groans at the sting, his restraint snapping thread by thread.

“Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his head like he’s given up fighting it, like he can’t hold back even if he wanted to. His fingers hook into your underwear and begin to dragging them down.“You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

You whine as he drags your underwear down your legs at a pace so slow it’s borderline torturous. His fingers trail over your skin as he does, deliberate, calculated, like he’s testing your patience on purpose.

You know he is.

And you’re not about to let him win that easily.

Tilting your chin, you meet his gaze with a smirk. “Taking your sweet time, huh?” Your voice is laced with defiance, a challenge.

Chris cocks a brow, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “You in a rush?” he muses, settling between your legs, hands gripping your thighs, thumbs stroking teasing circles against your skin. “’Cause last I checked, you were just begging me to fuck you.”

You roll your eyes, feigning boredom even as your body betrays you, your breath coming in shallow, anticipation curling low in your stomach. “Yeah, well, I didn’t realize I’d have to wait all night for it.”

That does it.

Chris’s smirk vanishes, replaced by something darker, something more dangerous. His grip tightens just enough to make you gasp, his eyes locked onto yours as he leans in, lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

“Keep running that mouth, and I’ll make sure you don’t get anything until you’re begging for it properly,” he murmurs, his voice a low, commanding growl.

A shiver rolls down your spine, but you refuse to back down, tilting your head with a faux innocent look. “I thought you liked a challenge.”

Chris exhales sharply, his patience barely hanging by a thread.

In an instant, his hand slides up your inner thigh, fingers ghosting over where you need him most but never quite giving in. His lips trail down your neck, your collarbone, before his teeth graze sensitive skin, making you arch beneath him.

“You wanna act like a brat?” he murmurs against your skin, pressing an open-mouthed kiss just above your chest. “Fine. But you don’t get to call the shots, ma. I do.”

Your breath hitches as his mouth travels lower, kissing down along your covered breasts, sternum, stomach, and hip bones.

His hands pinned your hips down everytime you tried to move against him, tried to chase what he’s withholding.

“Chris-”

“Ah-” His fingers dig into your skin, halting you completely. “That’s not how you ask nicely.”

You glare at him, frustration bubbling in your chest. “You’re such an asshole-”

The sharp sting of his teeth against your thigh cuts you off, and you yelp, a mix of surprise and pleasure sparking through you.

Chris pulls back just enough to look at you, his smirk returning full force. “Try again, baby,” he purrs, his fingers resuming their torturously slow exploration. “Use your manners.”

You grit your teeth, refusing to let him win so easily, but when his tongue flicks over the newly bitten spot, when his grip tightens just enough to remind you who’s in control, your resistance wavers.

You swallow hard, exhaling shakily. “Please,” you murmur, voice softer now, almost reluctant. “Please touch me, Chris.”

Chris hums approvingly, but he doesn’t let up just yet. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

His mouth inches lower, his breath hot against your skin, goosebumps forming across your thighs despite the heat coursing through your body.

He presses a lingering kiss to your inner thigh and his fingers trace idle patterns along your skin. He was stalling, making sure you feel every second of his deliberate torment.

“You’re so easy to wind up,” he muses, his voice dripping with amusement.

You glare down at him, but the effect is ruined by the way your breath shudders when his lips trail closer -so damn close- but never quite giving you what you need.

“Chris,” you warn, your patience hanging by a thread.

He grins. “That’s not how you say it, baby.”

You grit your teeth, but you know how this game goes. You started it, and now you have to play by his rules.

“Please, Chris,” you try again, voice barely above a breath. “I need you.”

His groan is soft but full of satisfaction, like that’s what he’s been waiting to hear. Without another word, he finally gives in, flattening and dragging his tongue through your folds in a slow, deliberate stroke that makes your entire body tense.

Your fingers immediately fly to his hair, gripping tight as your back arches off the mattress, a whimper slipping from your lips before you can stop it.

“Fuck,” you whisper, head tilting back as he settles between your thighs, his hands pinning them open as he works you over with a precision that’s nothing short of lethal.

Chris hums against you, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core. “Always so sensitive,” he murmurs, sounding entirely too pleased with himself.

You try to form a response but then he flicks his tongue against your clit just right, and your brain short-circuits.

Your hips jerk up, seeking more, but Chris is quick to put you back in your place, his hands gripping your thighs tighter, keeping you right where he wants you.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, pulling back just enough to meet your hazy gaze. His lips are wet with your slick, pupils blown wide, and you think he might just be enjoying this more than you are. “You don’t get to take what you want. You take what I give you.”

Your jaw clenches, frustration burning beneath the pleasure. “Chris-”

He cuts you off with another slow, devastating drag of his tongue, his pace infuriatingly controlled, like he has all the time in the world.

You let out a pretty and desperate string of moans, showcasing nothing but pure need for him. “Please baby,” you whimper, pulling at his dark waves lightly.

You feel him groan against you, pushing his head deeper into you. His nose was flicking patterns against your clit and he expertly plunged his tongue into your hole as you writhed against him.

Heat coils in your stomach, tension building, winding tighter and tighter, and just when you’re teetering on the edge-

Chris pulls away.

Your eyes snap open, disbelief and frustration surging through you as you look down at him, lips parted, chest heaving. “What the fuck?”

Chris lifts his head, his mouth and chin practically dripping with your arousal. He wipes his mouth with his hand, grinning like the devil himself. “Told you,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement, “brats don’t get to call the shots.”

You glare at him, rage and need simmering together into something dangerous. “I hate you”

He leans up, pressing a slow, taunting kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “No you don’t,” he murmurs against your mouth, his hands slipping beneath you, flipping you effortlessly onto your stomach.

He palms your ass, kneading the soft flesh with slow, deliberate movements, his touch just enough to keep you on edge but nowhere near enough to satisfy. His fingers drag over the backs of your thighs, teasing, spreading you open beneath him.

“Up,” he commands, his voice firm but smooth, like he knows you won’t disobey.

You bite your lip, stubborn, refusing to move at first just to see what he’ll do.

Chris exhales a sharp chuckle, his patience unwavering. His hand comes down against your ass in a sharp, stinging slap that makes you jolt.

“Up,” he repeats, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Still, you push back. “Make me.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Or maybe it was the right thing, depending on how wrecked you wanted to be.

Chris clicks his tongue, then suddenly grips your hips and yanks you up onto your hands and knees, forcing you into position with little effort. His strength has always been infuriating, but right now, it just makes your stomach flip and core flutter.

“There’s that fuckin’ attitude again,” he muses, running a hand up the length of your spine, pressing down between your shoulder blades until your chest sinks into the mattress and your ass is high in the air. “You act like you don’t love it when I put you in your place.”

You scoff, breathless. “I don’t.”

Chris hums, dragging his hand back down your spine, teasing at the dip of your lower back. “Sure you don’t, ma.”

Before you can retort, he shifts behind you, pressing the long and impossibly thick length of himself against your dripping heat, running his tip up and down your folds without pushing in.

Your fingers curl into the sheets, a frustrated whimper slipping out before you can stop it.

Chris chuckles, smug. “What’s wrong?” he taunts, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel every inch of the underside of him, covered in your slick and hard against you. “Thought you didn’t want it?”

Your jaw clenches, stubborn. “I don’t.”

“Lying’s not a good look on you,” Chris murmurs, dragging himself over you again, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance before sliding away once more.

You let out a strangled noise, half frustration, half desperation. “Chris-”

“Try again,” he interrupts, his tone light, teasing, but still demanding submission.

You grit your teeth, unwilling to give in so easily. But when he does it again -runs himself over your soaked folds without giving you what you need- your stubbornness starts to falter.

Your forehead presses into the mattress, your hips shifting back against him instinctively. “Chris, please.”

“Please, what?”

You groan, your pride warring with your need. “Please. Just fuck me.”

Chris sighs, dragging his cock over you once more, reveling in the way your body shudders at the contact. “See, now that sounded almost sincere,” he muses.

“Almost?” you snap, exasperated, only for him to roll his hips against you again, making you keen.

“You can do better,” he murmurs, leaning forward, his chest pressing flush against your back, his lips brushing your ear. “Try again, baby.”

Your eyes flutter shut, frustration burning hot under your skin. “Chris, please, I need you. God- I need you to fuck me. Please.”

He smirks against your shoulder, his hand sliding down to grip your hip. “There’s my good girl. That’s more like it.”

Chris groans as he lines himself up, teasing you one last time by rubbing the thick head of his cock over your soaked entrance. His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers pressing into your skin, grounding himself- grounding you.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, voice wrecked with anticipation. “So fucking wet for me. She missed me, huh?”

You don’t answer- can’t. Your breath catches as he finally starts to push in, stretching you inch by inch, slow and deliberate, making sure you feel every bit of him, feel every vein on him pulsing.

Chris exhales sharply, his head tipping forward. “Shit- still so fucking tight,” he groans, his voice thick with pleasure. His free hand slides up your back, pressing down between your shoulder blades to keep you exactly where he wants you. “Taking me so well, ma. Knew this pussy was made for me.”

A strangled moan escapes your lips as he sinks deeper, the stretch just teetering the line of too much, but the burn only makes you crave more.

“Yeah? You like that?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s an underlying edge of desperation, like even he’s barely holding on.

Your fingers clutch at the sheets, trying to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of him filling you so slowly, so completely. “Chris -fuck- p-please-”

He chuckles breathlessly, pulling back just an inch before pushing in again, just as slow, making you whine. “Already begging again?” His lips brush the shell of your ear, his voice dripping with amusement. “Thought you wanted to be a little brat.”

You let out a frustrated noise, wiggling your hips back against him, desperate for more, but Chris is quicker- his hand flies to your hip, holding you still with a bruising grip.

“Uh-uh,” he scolds, his voice pure sin. “You take what I give you, remember?”

Your head drops forward, a needy whimper spilling from your lips. “Chriiissss-”

“That’s right, baby. Say my name.” He groans as he finally bottoms out, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds himself there for a moment, letting you feel just how deep he is as his tip kisses your cervix. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Your walls flutter around him, and Chris curses under his breath, his composure fraying at the edges.

“Such a good girl for me when you wanna be,” he praises, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “Bet you’d let me keep you like this all night, huh? Bent over, stuffed full, taking whatever I give you.”

You nod frantically, moaning at the mere thought, but Chris tuts, reaching up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back just enough to make you gasp.

“Use your words, ma.”

“Yes- f-fuck, yes, Chris,” you cry out, your voice trembling. “Please, I need more. I need your cock. Please.”

Chris groans, his grip tightening. “That’s my girl.”

And then, finally, he moves.

The first thrust is slow, deliberate, teasing, but it doesn’t last long. It never does. He pulls back and slams into you with a force that knocks the air from your lungs.

A wrecked moan tears from your throat as he sets a ruthless pace, each thrust deep and punishing, his grip on your hips keeping you exactly where he wants you.

Chris is loud, vocal, completely unashamed of the sounds he makes as he fucks into you- deep groans, breathy curses, praises slipping from his lips between every sharp thrust.

“That’s it, baby- fuck, taking me so well,” he grits out, his voice rough with pleasure. “You feel how deep I am? Huh? Feel how perfect this tight little pussy is for me?”

You can only nod, gasping, moaning his name like it’s the only thing you know.

Chris smirks, pulling you back against him, forcing you to take every inch, every thrust. “Not such a mouthy little brat now, are you?”

You whimper, barely able to form a response, too lost in the way he’s completely wrecking you.

Chris leans down, pressing a messy, open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, his teeth scraping against your skin as his tip bruises your cervix with every thrust. “That’s what I thought.”

He doesn’t let up- if anything, he picks up the pace, thrusting into you harder, faster, his hips slamming against yours with a force that leaves you breathless. The sound of skin on skin, of your desperate moans and his wrecked groans, fills the room, the air thick with heat and need.

“Fuck, ma,” he pants, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he drags you back onto his cock, making you take him deeper. “You hear that? How fucking wet you are for me?” He lets out a sharp, breathless laugh. “So fucking messy.”

Tears well in your eyes, the pleasure so overwhelming it borders on unbearable. Your mascara starts to streak down your cheeks, your breath catching on sobs of pure bliss.

Chris catches sight of your reflection in the mirror across his room, and he groans at the sight- your wrecked expression, your parted lips, the black-streaked tears running down your flushed cheeks.

“Fuck- look at you,” he breathes, his voice full of awe and possession. He snakes a hand into your hair, yanking your head up so you’re forced to meet your own gaze in the mirror. “Prettiest little thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”

Your breath shudders, your walls clenching impossibly hard around him at his words.

Chris groans, his hips stuttering for a split second before he catches himself. “Yeah? You like that, baby? Like being my pretty little mess?”

You whimper, unable to do anything but nod, but Chris isn’t satisfied with that.

“You’re a big girl. Use your words,” he demands.

Your throat feels like it’s going to close from the pleasure, even if you wanted to respond to him- you couldn’t.

And he didn’t like that.

He suddenly pulls out completely.

A sharp cry rips from your throat at the loss, your body trembling, desperate, aching for him to fill you again.

“Chris-” you moan out.

He cuts you off with another sharp slap to your ass, his tone laced with amusement. “Such a fucking brat,” he muses, shaking his head. “I ask so nicely, and you still can’t just be good for me, huh? Can’t use your words like a big girl?”

You glare at him through the mirror, your frustration burning through the haze of pleasure.

Chris chuckles darkly at your fucked out expression, sliding a hand between your thighs, running his fingers through your slick folds. “Still nothing? Have I fucked you dumb, ma?”

Before you can snap back, he suddenly thrusts back into you, forcing you to take him all at once.

Your scream is cut off by his hand wrapping around your throat, pulling you up so your back is pressed against his chest.

His lips brush the shell of your ear, his breath ragged. “Tell me, baby,” he growls, rolling his hips deep and slow, teasing you with every inch. “Does he ever fuck you like this? Huh?”

Your pride flares, and even through the haze of pleasure, you find it in yourself to be defiant. “Maybe.”

Chris freezes.

A sharp, wrecked moan rips from your throat as he snaps his hips forward with a brutal thrust, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Wrong answer, baby.”

He starts fucking into you with a pace so unforgiving it has you seeing stars, every thrust forcing you to take everything he’s giving you, no room to think, no room to do anything but feel.

Chris growls, his voice thick with possession. “Try again. Does he fuck you like I do?”

You sob, pleasure coursing through you so intensely you can’t even pretend anymore. “No- fuck, no one, Chris. No one does it like you.”

Chris groans, dragging his teeth along your jaw, his grip never wavering. “Yeah? Who makes you feel this good?”

“You -fuck- you, Chris,” you sob, gripping the sheets like they’re the only thing tethering you to the earth.

Chris lets out a wrecked, satisfied groan. His thrusts grow sharper, faster, each one hitting so deep it has your entire body trembling against him.

“Damn right,” he growls, his lips brushing over your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “This pussy? All mine.” His fingers trail down, pressing against your lower stomach, feeling the way he’s stretching you, ruining you, bulging through your abdomen. “You? You’re all fucking mine.”

A broken moan tears from your throat, your body arching into him, every nerve in your body alight with pleasure. The intensity of it, the force of his claim, has your legs shaking, muscles locking up as he fucks you harder, deeper, like he’s determined to make sure you never forget who you belong to.

Chris notices immediately. “Aww,” he coos, his voice thick with smug amusement. “You shaking for me, baby? Shaking for this cock?” He thrusts even harder, dragging a strangled sob from you. “That’s cute.”

You whimper, your body completely at his mercy, overwhelmed, overstimulated- but fuck, you don’t want him to stop.

Chris chuckles, his free hand sliding down your stomach, pressing against your clit just enough to make your legs threaten to give out beneath you. “Look at you,” he taunts, shaking his head as he watches you fall apart for him. “Look at the way you’re breaking beneath me. No one will ever make you feel this good.”

You let out a broken, incoherent moan, barely able to form words, too lost in the way he’s absolutely ruining you.

Chris smirks, pressing a messy, open-mouthed kiss against the side of your throat. “He’ll never know,” he murmurs, voice laced with pure cocky satisfaction. “Never know the way your body aches for me.” He thrusts particularly deep, making you wail. “For me. Just me.”

Your entire body locks up, a shuddering sob leaving your lips as you teeter on the edge, pleasure building, threatening to consume you entirely.

Chris groans, his own restraint slipping, his voice wrecked with need. “That’s it, ma. Fucking take it. Take all of me.”

He fucks you harder, deeper, the force of his thrusts pushing you closer and closer to the edge, shattering any remaining shred of control you thought you had.

His hand snakes between your thighs again, fingers finding your clit with deadly precision. He doesn’t tease this time- no more games, no more torture. He circles it fast, and hard, and firm, exactly the way he knows will ruin you.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” he groans, his voice thick with possession, desperation. “Yeah, you are. Fuck- can feel you clenching around me.”

Your breath stutters, a wrecked, broken sob slipping from your lips. Your body is locking up, trembling, so close you can barely breathe. “Shit! Chris- I’m- I’m gonna cum-”

Chris grits his teeth, his own pleasure simmering just beneath the surface, but he doesn’t let up- not yet.

“Come on, ma,” he growls, his pace relentless, his fingers rubbing you faster, pushing you right to the brink. “Cum all over this cock. Let me feel it- let me fucking feel you.”

That’s all it takes.

Your orgasm crashes into you with devastating force, pleasure surging through you like an electric current, knocking every ounce of air from your lungs. Your entire body seizes, your back arching as wave after wave rolls through you, your walls clenching so tight around him it drags a wrecked groan from his throat.

Chris doesn’t stop.

He keeps thrusting, fucking you through it, his fingers never leaving your clit, his cock still splitting you open with ruthless, merciless precision.

Your moans turn into whimpers, then sobs, your body jerking beneath him, overstimulated, too sensitive, too much.

Chris chuckles breathlessly, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “What’s wrong, baby?” he coos, flicking your clit with his whole palm now, making you jolt, your thighs trembling uncontrollably. “Too much?”

You can’t even answer- you’re writhing beneath him, pleasure and sensitivity colliding into something completely overwhelming.

Chris watches you fall apart with pure satisfaction, his cock throbbing inside you. “Fuck, baby, look at you. So messy. So fucking pretty when you cry for me.”

And then he does it again.

A sharp flick of his palm against your clit, perfectly timed with a deep, brutal thrust-

And you break.

A sharp cry rips from your throat as you squirt, your entire body locking up, your orgasm slamming into you again, harder, more devastating than the first.

Chris loses it.

“Fucking Christ, baby- fuck,” he growls, his hands flying to your hips, his grip bruising as he slams into you with reckless abandon. “That’s it. Fuck- yeah, cum for me. Squirt all over this cock. Just like that- just like fucking that. Holy shit, mama.”

He’s gone, completely lost in you, his movements erratic as he finally lets go. A loud, deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest as he spills inside you, his whole body shaking as he paints your insides white.

He keeps thrusting, fucking his cum deep inside you, milking every last drop, riding out both of your highs until you’re nothing but a shaking, writhing mess beneath him.

You’re gasping, sobbing, your body unable to take anymore, completely wrecked.

Chris presses hot, messy kisses along your spine, his breath still uneven, his hands stroking over your trembling thighs, grounding you.

“Fuck,” he pants, voice hoarse. “Fuuuccckk.”

You can’t even respond- you’re too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

Chris grins against your skin, smug, satisfied, completely in love with how ruined you are.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, pressing one last kiss to the back of your neck before pulling out and watching all his cum spill out of you. “All fucking mine.”

tags: @mattsobvimyfav @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @sturniolohohoho @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @matthewsturnsgf @aaa-mi @bigbeefybitch @hopelesslydevotedsstuff @wastelandzella @yourmother29 @whore4-chrissturniolo @idefinitelyhateu @madisonnxtdoor22 @user1smvtysturniolo @briisturniolo @sturniololuvz @hesvoid34 @butterflytsblog @mommymomm @mattsbunnyxx @blushsturns @i8kth @annalisesturnioloxo @kenziesturniolo54 @ribread03 @sturnl0ve @grace-sturniolo12 @sophsturns @mattsturnfx @lilyloveschris @milo-the-dog @riggysworld @scrumptiouskoalabasement @tenaciousearthquakeperson @sturnlovematt22 @seros-girl @sofsturnz689 @sturniololuvz @eeyoresturnz

[mattsobvimyfav]

unknown

Y/N has always played it safe—balancing her job as a pediatric nurse, and her careful lifestyle. But one night out with her friend, Jordan, changes everything. When she meets Matt and Chris—two dangerous, enigmatic brothers—she’s drawn into a world she doesn’t belong in. But the more she resists, the harder they pulls her in.

pt 4

The sun filtered softly through the blinds, casting warm streaks across the room. I blinked slowly, stirring from sleep, only to find Matt's arm draped securely over my waist, his chest pressed against my back. This is how it has been for the past week, the boys would handle their business or I'd go to work and they'd end up back at my apartment.

I smiled faintly and gently nudged his shoulder. "Matt," I whispered, brushing my fingers against his arm. "Matt, wake up."

He groaned softly, his eyes fluttering open, hazy with sleep. "What?" he murmured, his voice rough and gravelly.

I laughed softly. "I have to go. I’ve got nannying today. Gotta watch the kids."

His brows furrowed slightly as he processed my words. "Already?" He pulled me closer for a brief moment, burying his face in the crook of my neck. "Can’t you skip it?"

I chuckled, running my fingers through his messy hair. "Tempting, but no. I actually like these kids, you know."

Matt sighed dramatically, finally releasing me. "Fine."

I sat up, stretching before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "You’ll survive. Besides, I’ll be back later. If you guys want to come back?"

He watched me for a moment, "Yeah. Maybe."

Matt may sleep in my bed every night, but he keeps his distance. There’s no hand-holding, no soft whispers in the dark. He isn’t lovey-dovey, and he hasn’t even admitted to liking me. Oddly enough, I don’t mind. I like how casual it is, the comfort of having someone there without the pressure of defining it.

I pulled on a pair of biker shorts, a cozy oversized hoodie, Nike socks, and my Hokas. Running my fingers through my hair to smooth it out, I glanced back at Matt, still sprawled lazily across my bed, his eyes half-lidded with sleep.

Leaning down, I pressed a quick, soft kiss to his lips. "Lock the door before you leave, okay?"

He gave a small nod, his eyes following me as I grabbed my bag and headed out, leaving the door slightly ajar behind me.

The drive to the family’s house was peaceful, the early morning sun casting a warm glow over the Boston streets. The familiar route felt comforting, like slipping into an old routine. I pulled into the driveway, grabbed my bag, and made my way to the front door. Before I could knock, the door swung open, revealing Ella, with her wild curls bouncing as she launched herself at me.

“Y/N!” she squealed, wrapping her tiny arms around my legs.

“Hey, El!” I laughed, scooping her up into a hug. “Miss me?”

She nodded vigorously. “A lot.”

Inside, Owen, her brother, sat at the kitchen table, engrossed in a book about dinosaurs. His glasses had slipped down his nose, and his serious little face made me smile.

“Hey, buddy,” I greeted, ruffling his hair as I set my bag down.

He glanced up, offering a shy smile. “Hi, Y/N.”

Their parents gave me a quick rundown of the day’s plans before heading out. Once the door closed, Ella tugged on my hand. “Can we go to the park?”

“Of course,” I replied, packing snacks and water before we set off.

The park was bustling with families enjoying the warm air. Ella ran straight to the swings, demanding to be pushed higher and higher. Owen wandered off to examine rocks and sticks, his curiosity endless.

After an hour of chasing them around, we settled on a blanket under a large oak tree. We shared sandwiches, Ella chattering non-stop about her imaginary friends, while Owen quizzed me on dinosaur facts.

Back home, we spent the afternoon building a fort out of blankets and couch cushions. Inside our makeshift hideout, we read books and played with flashlights, their giggles echoing off the walls.

As evening approached, I prepared them dinner, it was simple—grilled cheese and tomato soup, with Ella proudly declaring she was my sous-chef.

When their parents returned, the kids clung to me, reluctant to say goodbye.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” Ella asked, her eyes wide and hopeful.

“Not tomorrow, but soon,” I promised, giving them both a tight hug.

Driving home, I felt a warm sense of contentment. Being around these kids felt like a breath of fresh air from the adult life I created for myself.

When I got home, the quiet comfort of my apartment wrapped around me like a familiar blanket. I kicked off my Hokas, dropped my bag by the door, and flopped onto the couch with a sigh. The soft cushions welcomed me as I reached for my phone, scrolling through the notifications until I landed on the group chat with Matt and Chris.

Y/N: Home, finally.

It didn’t take long for Chris to respond.

Chris: Perfect timing. There’s a party tonight. We’re going. You in?

Almost instantly, Matt added:

Matt: Come with us.

I stared at the screen, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. A party wasn’t exactly on my agenda, but the idea of seeing them both, of slipping back into that chaotic, unpredictable energy they brought, felt tempting.

Y/N: What time?

Chris: We’ll pick you up at 9.

Y/N: I’m in.

I set my phone down and let myself relax for a little while, stretching out on the couch. The hum of the city outside my window was a soft reminder of the world still spinning. After a short rest, I stood up and made my way to my room to get ready.

I pulled out a cheetah print cropped top, pairing it with a sleek black mini skirt and my favorite leather boots. The outfit hugged my curves perfectly, giving me a boost of confidence. I decided to keep it simple with my hair, curling it into loose waves that effortlessly framed my face.

With one last glance in the mirror, I grabbed my small black purse, sitting on the couch again and waited for Matt and Chris to arrive.

At exactly 9 PM, I heard a knock at the door. Opening it, I was met with Matt’s dark, intense eyes and Chris’s mischievous grin. Matt’s gaze slowly roamed over my outfit, his jaw tightening slightly before he muttered, “You look good.”

Chris clicks his tongue, "Yeah, you do"

I rolled my eyes, locking the door behind me as we made our way to Matt’s car. The car roared to life, music thumping softly as Matt drove through the city streets. The party was on the outskirts, in an old warehouse lit up with neon lights spilling from the windows.

We stepped inside, the heavy bass vibrating through the floor. The air was thick with smoke, the scent of alcohol, sweat, and something faintly metallic lingering. People moved like waves, pulsing to the beat, laughing, shouting, and lost in their own worlds.

Matt and Chris immediately got to work, connecting with a few guys in dark corners. I found a spot on an old, beaten-up couch, watching the crowd while sipping on a drink someone had handed me. It wasn’t long before Matt made his way back, sitting beside me and pulling out a small blunt. He lit it, taking a slow drag before passing it to me.

I hesitated only for a second before taking it. I was somewhere new and didn't know anyone but Matt and Chris, I was unsure about being high and drunk here. I ultimately decided Matt and Chris would keep me safe if anything was to happen so I grabbed the blunt from Matt’s hand. The buzz hit quickly, mixing with the drink.

It had been about twenty minutes since Matt had left me alone on the couch, and my mind still felt like it was swimming in a fog. I had tried to focus on the people around me, watching them as they moved through the crowd, laughing, talking, losing themselves in the chaos of the party. But every face I looked at felt unfamiliar, out of place. Nothing made sense, not even the noise. The thumping bass, the flashing lights—it all felt too loud, too bright, like it was mocking me.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

And then, suddenly, the noise of the party shifted. The music didn’t stop, but the voices grew louder, sharper, rising above the rest. I looked up from where I was sitting, instinctively turning toward the sound. That’s when I saw Matt.

He was standing at the edge of the crowd, his back rigid, his face hard as stone. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were focused on something—or someone—a guy in the crowd. The guy was yelling at Matt, hands flailing wildly in the air. His voice was thick with aggression, but I couldn’t make out his words over the music.

Chris was beside Matt, his posture tense, his eyes scanning the crowd like a predator looking for a target. It was obvious this wasn’t a casual confrontation. The way Chris stood—motionless, like he was waiting for something—told me things were about to get real. Fast.

The yelling escalated, louder, and more intense. I couldn’t hear the words, but the aggression in the air was palpable. I felt a pit in my stomach as I watched Matt and the other guy exchange words. I wanted to look away, but something made me stay. It was like I couldn’t pull my gaze from the tension that was building between them.

And then, in a flash, Matt’s fist connected with the guy’s jaw. The punch was swift, precise, and brutal. It landed with a sickening thud that cut through the noise of the party. The moment it hit, everything exploded. It was like someone flipped a switch—people screamed, fists flew, bodies scrambled, and the fight spilled into the center of the room.

I could barely process what was happening. Matt and the other guy were locked in a brutal exchange, throwing punches with such intensity that the entire atmosphere of the party shifted. Blood mixed with sweat, and the harsh, flickering lights above cast eerie shadows across the room.

But Matt wasn’t just fighting. His movements were sharp, controlled, and fast—too fast for the guy to keep up. It was clear he wasn’t just defending himself—he was letting his rage drive every blow. He was holding his own, but there was something dark and violent in the way he moved, a fury that I hadn’t seen before.

As the fight spiraled further out of control, something shifted in the room. I saw Chris reach inside his jacket, and before I could even process what was happening, he pulled out a gun, the metal gleaming under the harsh lights. The sight of it sent a cold chill through me, freezing my blood. It was aimed at the people trying to jump into Matt’s fight, the mere presence of the weapon in the middle of this madness was enough to make everything feel dangerous.

For a moment, time seemed to slow. The fight between Matt and the other guy continued, but now people were backing off, the sight of the guns keeping anyone from getting any closer. The crowd was tense, unsure of whether things were going to escalate further, but Chris didn’t make a move to use the weapons. They just held their ground, making sure everyone knew they weren’t to be messed with.

The fight was broken up quickly after that, people rushing in to separate them. The other guy was dragged away, kicking and yelling, still trying to get another shot at Matt, but the fight had already drained the energy from the room. The party slowly began to settle, but Matt’s fury hadn’t.

Without a word, he turned and stormed toward me. I barely had time to react before he grabbed me by the waist, his grip strong and unyielding, and hoisted me over his shoulder as if I weighed nothing. My stomach lurched in surprise, and I instinctively grabbed at his back, but he didn’t seem to notice. His body was rigid, his anger still boiling just beneath the surface.

"We’re leaving," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, like he was daring anyone to stop him.

Chris was right behind him, his face set in stone. He hadn’t said a word, but his presence was enough to make sure no one got in their way. They moved through the crowd with the kind of confidence that came from knowing they controlled the situation—guns tucked away, but the threat hanging heavy in the air.

Outside, the cool air hit me like a slap. Matt gently set me down but kept a firm grip on my hand. His knuckles were bloodied, his breathing ragged, but his eyes… his eyes were dark, Not in the way I had ever seen them before.

We drove in tense silence, the car filled with the residual heat of anger and adrenaline. No one spoke.

The drive away from the party was cloaked in silence, the tension thick and unspoken. Matt's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles still bruised and raw from the fight. Chris sat in the passenger seat, his jaw clenched, eyes flickering between the road ahead and Matt's rigid posture.

I sat in the back, the cool leather of the seat against my thighs grounding me. The city lights faded as we drove further, replaced by quiet streets lined with towering trees and sprawling houses. I leaned forward slightly, glancing out the window.

"Uh, where are we?" I asked, my voice breaking the silence.

Matt didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the road. Chris turned slightly, his smirk returning, though it lacked its usual ease. "Our house," he replied casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I blinked, my mind trying to process his words. "I thought you guys lived at the trap."

Chris chuckled softly. "The trap is where we work. This is where we live."

Matt pulled into the long driveway of a massive, modern house tucked behind tall, sleek gates. The exterior was all sharp lines and dark glass, illuminated by soft, ambient lighting that gave the place an almost surreal glow.

Stepping out of the car, I followed them up the stone path, my curiosity outweighing my confusion. The front door swung open effortlessly under Matt's hand, revealing an interior that made my jaw drop.

The house was nothing like I expected. High ceilings stretched above us, adorned with minimalist chandeliers that cast warm pools of light onto polished hardwood floors. The living room was expansive, with plush, oversized furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the city skyline like a painting.

I toed off my boots, feeling out of place. "This is... not what I expected."

Chris threw his phone on the marble kitchen counter, grinning. "What were you expecting? Milk crates and mattresses on the floor?"

I shrugged, still taking it all in. "Honestly? Yeah."

Matt finally spoke, his voice low and rough. "Appearances are deceiving."

He disappeared up the stairs, leaving me alone with Chris. Chris flopped onto the enormous sectional, patting the seat next to him. "Get comfortable, sweetheart. You're staying for a while."

I sat down, sinking into the soft cushions, my mind racing with questions but my lips staying shut. The air felt thick, almost heavy with something I couldn’t quite place, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what it was.

“Upstairs,” Matt’s voice called from above, rough around the edges. I hesitated for just a second before making my way up, my heart pounding a little faster. I’d never been here before, and something about being alone with Matt—his house, his world—felt different.

When I entered his room, I stopped in my tracks for a moment, taking in the sight. The bed was massive—almost ridiculously so. His boxers and a t-shirt were laid out neatly on the sheets. I swallowed hard, nerves creeping in, but I forced myself to keep moving forward.

He didn’t even look up from his phone. “Change,” he said, his voice flat, as if he was saying something completely ordinary.

I nodded, retreating into the bathroom attached to his room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind me, I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. I changed quickly, not wanting to waste any time, but something about the whole situation felt off.

Once I was dressed, I climbed into the bed beside him, pulling the covers over my body. He was already there, sprawled out and clearly still tense, his mind a million miles away. He didn’t even say anything as he flicked on the TV, the soft glow illuminating the room and casting shadows across his face.

I shifted closer, resting my head on his shoulder, the weight of the night pressing down on me. “How do you have this house?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. My voice was barely above a whisper, but I had to ask.

Matt didn’t respond right away. He just stared at the TV, his jaw tightening as if the question bothered him more than I expected. Finally, he shifted, just enough to look down at me, “You’ve seen what we do,” he said, his voice low, edged with something I couldn’t quite read.

I felt my stomach knot. He wasn’t wrong. I had seen it—the deals, the late-night phone calls, the way Matt and Chris operated in a world I had no part in. The life they’d built wasn’t exactly something you could just turn off.

For a moment, neither of us said anything. I could feel the weight of it all hanging between us, pressing down on my chest. But instead of pulling away, I just snuggled closer, needing the comfort. His arm wrapped around me, his grip tight and protective, but I could feel the tension in his body, the anger from earlier still lingering.

“I don’t need this,” he muttered under his breath, his fingers brushing against my skin, the touch surprisingly soft.

I stayed silent, not sure what to say. The truth was, I didn’t need this either. But for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to leave.

I stayed there, pressed up against Matt’s side, his arm still wrapped around me, my head resting on his shoulder. The low hum of the TV filled the silence, but my thoughts were elsewhere, swirling in a mix of confusion and unease. The strange quiet of the house, the tension in his body, the weight of his words—it all felt like too much. I was lost in it, trying to make sense of everything.

And then my phone buzzed, breaking the stillness.

I pulled it from the pocket of my jeans and saw Jordan’s name lighting up the screen. My heart sank. I didn’t feel like dealing with her right now, especially not after everything that had gone down tonight, but I unlocked my phone and opened the message anyway.

Jordan: Did you hear what happened with Matt tonight?

I stared at the screen, feeling a wave of panic rise in my chest. I quickly typed a response, my fingers shaking slightly as I tried to keep my emotions in check.

Me: Stop trying to parent me. I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions, okay?

I hit send before I could second-guess myself. But the pit in my stomach only deepened as I stared at the message, like I was waiting for something to happen—waiting for her to text me back.

And then it happened. Matt's arm shifted, and before I even realized what was going on, he grabbed my phone from my hands, his movements sharp and quick. My stomach dropped as he looked down at the screen.

I opened my mouth to protest, but the words caught in my throat as I watched him scroll through the messages. His eyes flicked over the screen, his jaw tightening as he read Jordan’s message. 

My heart was hammering in my chest as I silently cursed myself for not locking the phone, he glared at the screen, his expression darkening with each passing second. I could feel the anger rolling off him in waves, his body stiffening as he scrolled through the messages. He didn't say anything at first, but I could feel the tension growing between us.

He slammed my phone down onto the bed with a force that made me flinch, his eyes meeting mine, full of frustration. "She’s been texting you about me... about us?" he asked, his voice low, dangerously calm.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my racing heartbeat. I didn't know what to say. I could feel my breath quicken as I scrambled to explain myself, but he cut me off before I could get the words out.

“Jordan,” he spat, his voice laced with venom. "She’s been on your case for weeks now, huh? With that bullshit, telling you to stay away from me and Chris?" He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "She doesn’t know shit about what goes on here. She acts like she does because we let her spark up with us once in a while." His voice dropped lower, almost too quiet. “She has no idea what it’s like... what it really takes to keep a place like this.”

I felt the heat rise to my face, a mix of embarrassment and guilt. Matt’s anger was raw, and I could see it in his eyes. But at the same time, I also felt a strange mix of fear and protectiveness over him.

“I told her I could make my own decisions,” I said, my voice shaky, trying to hold onto some sense of control. 

Matt scoffed, leaning back on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at the tv. "Yeah, well, she needs to mind her business." His tone was sharp, and the anger still simmered just below the surface. "She doesn't get it. She doesn't know the shit she thinks she does about me and Chris."

My heart pounded in my chest, guilt eating away at me. She was just trying to look out for me, even if it didn’t feel that way.

I reached for my phone, but Matt grabbed it first, holding it just out of my reach. “You’re not talking to her anymore,” he said, his tone final. “She’s not gonna mess this up for us.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at me, waiting for a reaction.

I couldn’t tell if it was the intensity of his gaze or what, but I didn’t fight him. Instead, I just lay there next to him, unable to shake the feeling that I was trapped between two worlds—between Matt, the life he led, and everything Jordan had been warning me about.

Matt’s body was rigid beside me, his presence solid and warm. The tension in his muscles hadn’t quite relaxed, his jaw still clenched, and I could feel the storm of emotions swirling in the air around us.

The lights in his room were dim, casting long shadows across the walls, and I was still trying to wrap my head around everything that had happened. The fight at the party. The blood. 

While we were laying there the door opened with a creak, and Chris’s voice broke through the stillness.

"Matt," Chris called out, his tone sharp. "We’ve got a visitor."

Matt tensed beside me, his muscles tightening as he pushed himself up from the bed. "Stay here," he said, his voice low and controlled, but there was something dangerous lurking in it. "Don’t leave the room."

I barely had a chance to respond before he was already moving, slipping on a shirt and heading toward the door. My stomach twisted. I wanted to know what was going on, what kind of "visitor" they were dealing with, but Matt’s warning echoed in my mind. I stayed in bed, though the unease in my chest wouldn’t settle.

The minutes dragged on, each one heavier than the last. It had been ten minutes since Matt and Chris left the room, and I couldn’t sit still any longer. My curiosity gnawed at me, a constant itch I couldn’t ignore.

I slipped out of bed quietly, moving toward the door. I could hear the faint sounds of voices downstairs, muffled, but nothing that gave me any clear idea of what was happening. What they were doing.

I cracked the door open just enough to slip out, trying not to make a sound. My bare feet padded across the cold wood floor as I crept toward the top of the stairs. The house felt eerily quiet, the silence hanging heavily in the air. I could hear muffled voices now, sharp words mixed with a few desperate pleas. My heart skipped a beat.

As I reached the top of the stairs, I paused. What I saw froze me in my tracks.

At the bottom of the stairs was the guy from the party—the one Matt had fought earlier. The guy was on his knees, his head bowed, his hands trembling in front of him. He looked like he was begging, but I couldn’t hear his words from where I stood. I could see the fear in his eyes, though, the panic as he tried to make himself small under the weight of Matt and Chris’s presence.

Matt and Chris were standing over him, both of them tense, and I could see the guns in their hands. Matt had his at his side, the barrel gleaming in the dim light, while Chris held his steady, aimed at the kneeling man.

My breath caught in my throat. I felt like I was intruding on something I wasn’t meant to see, like I was looking into a world I couldn’t understand.

Matt’s voice rang out, low and filled with an edge of danger. "You know the deal," he said, his tone cold, commanding. "You pulled that stupid fucking shit tonight. ‘You dont get paid enough’ Fuck that."

The guy on his knees didn’t speak at first, but I could see him nodding desperately, tears running down his face as he raised his hands in a pleading gesture. His whole body trembled, and I could feel the fear emanating off him in waves.

"I-I didn’t mean to—" he started, his voice shaky, but Matt cut him off.

"Shut the fuck up," Matt snapped, his voice hard. 

I took a step back, my heart pounding, my body frozen in place. My eyes were still locked on the scene below, the tension between the three men thickening with every passing second. It was like a standoff, a moment where everything teetered on the edge of something dangerous.

And then, my foot shifted slightly, the floor creaking under my weight. The sound was soft, but it was enough.

Matt’s head snapped up, his sharp eyes finding me at the top of the stairs. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, and I felt his gaze lock onto me, cold and piercing.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Matt’s voice rang out, low but filled with an unmistakable edge of anger. His words sliced through the air, and I felt the sudden weight of them. His gaze shifted quickly between me and the guy still kneeling on the floor.

I didn’t know how to respond. My breath caught in my throat as my mind scrambled to make sense of everything happening in front of me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I wanted to apologize for intruding, for seeing something I wasn’t supposed to see, but I couldn’t make myself move. I was frozen, caught between the need to explain myself and the sheer fear of what this moment meant.

Matt’s gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. He didn’t speak for a long moment, but I could see the fury simmering just below the surface.

"You should’ve stayed in the room," he muttered, his voice dangerously calm. 

I swallowed hard, my body tense as I realized how much I didn’t understand. How much I had already gotten myself involved in.

The man on the floor looked up at me, making eye contact, his body trembling in fear, Chris caught on to the man looking at me and hit him in the face, hard, causing me to gasp at the sound.

Matt took a step forward, his posture almost predatory, "Get back to the room," he ordered, his voice low. But there was something in his tone that made my chest tighten—something that made me realize I wasn’t just an innocent bystander anymore. I was part of this.

I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I couldn’t stay there, not at this moment. My legs felt like they were going to give out, but I managed to turn around and retreat back into the shadows, disappearing into the hallway as quietly as I could.

The sound of Matt’s voice echoed in the distance, but I didn’t hear the words. All I could hear was the pounding of my own heart and the realization that the life I had stepped into was far darker and more dangerous than I ever could have imagined.

The door slammed open, and Matt was standing there, his presence filling the room like a storm. His chest was heaving, his jaw tight, eyes burning with anger. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, like it was pressing down, suffocating me. 

"What is wrong with you?" he snapped, his voice harsh and raw. 

I instinctively shrunk back, my heart pounding in my chest. He stepped forward, his frustration practically radiating off him, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"I told you to stay in the room. I literally asked you one fucking thing, but you went ahead and—" He cut himself off, pacing a few steps before turning back to face me, the anger in his eyes almost too much to handle. 

"Do you have any idea what you just saw?" he continued, his tone lowering but still laced with irritation. "This isn’t some fucking joke. This is real. People get hurt, Y/N. People die."

I opened my mouth to say something, but the words felt trapped in my throat. What could I say? I didn’t even know how to explain what had been going through my head when I snuck out of the room, what had driven me to see what was happening downstairs.

Matt shook his head, his gaze never leaving me. "This is dangerous, and if you want to keep seeing me and Chris, you better start understanding what that means."

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. His voice was calmer now, but there was no mistaking the edge of finality in it. "I’m not going to baby you, Y/N. You either get it together or you walk away. Because you’re playing with fire and expecting not to get burned. And I’m not just gonna sit back and watch you do that and wait till you do.” 

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words tangled in my throat, choked by the weight of his anger. My chest felt tight, my heart racing, and without thinking, I slid off the bed and closed the space between us.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I reached for him. My hands found his chest first, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin, the steady, rapid thrum of his heartbeat. “Matt, I’m so sorry.”

I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my face into the warmth of his neck, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the sharp edge of sweat and adrenaline. “Please, I didn’t mean to—I just wanted to know you were okay,” I murmured against his skin, my lips brushing softly over the curve of his neck as I spoke. 

His body remained rigid, his hands clenched at his sides, but I held on tighter, desperate to break through the wall his anger had built. I placed soft, frantic kisses along the line of his jaw, his neck, my voice shaking between each one. “Please, Matt. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. I just—I needed to see you.”

His breath hitched, a sharp exhale that made me cling to him even more. My fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt, knuckles white, as if letting go would make the distance between us even worse.

“I’ll listen next time. I swear. Just—don’t be mad at me,” I begged softly, my words muffled against his skin, my lips finding the hollow of his throat where his pulse beat fast and hard.

For a moment, he didn’t move. The tension between us thick enough to drown in. Then, slowly, his hands came up, not gentle but rough, gripping my arms, his fingers digging in just enough to remind me of who he was.  

But he didn’t push me away.

Matt’s grip loosened slightly, his fingers sliding from my arms to my waist, pulling me in closer. His head dropped to look in my eyes, his breath warm and uneven as it fanned across my skin. His eyes were still closed, like he was trying to hold something in—something fragile beneath all that anger.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, filled with frustration, but not just at me. At himself. At everything. He let out a shaky sigh, his hands gripping my hips tighter like he was afraid I’d slip away. “I want you here,” he whispered, his voice softer now, almost broken. “But you’ve got to listen to me, Y/N. You don’t get it, I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

My chest ached at the rawness in his words, the vulnerability bleeding through the cracks in his tough exterior. I cupped his face gently, His gaze was softer now, the sharp edges dulled by something deeper.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, my thumbs brushing over the rough stubble on his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to make things worse. I just, I don't know.”

He let out another breath, his hands sliding up my back, pulling me against him until there was no space left between us. My face buried in his chest.

“I don’t want to worry about whether or not you’re going to listen,” he murmured, his voice muffled but clear enough to make my heart clench. 

I held him tighter, pressing soft kisses to his jaw, trying to ease the tension in his body. “I’ll listen,” I promised softly, my fingers threading through his hair. “I’ll do better.”

Matt didn’t respond right away. His grip on me tightened, like he was still trying to process everything. Then, slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes still dark but softer, the storm behind them finally settling.

Without a word, he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, tossing it carelessly to the floor. His skin was warm, scattered with faint bruises  from the fight earlier, his chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. His gaze never left mine as he reached for me again, his hands finding my waist, pulling me closer until our bodies were flush. 

“c’mere,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, but not with anger this time.  

He guided me back toward the bed, pulling me down with him. The sheets were cool against my skin, but his warmth made up for it as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. I nestled against him, my face tucked into the curve of his neck, breathing in the faint, familiar scent of him.

His fingers traced slow, lazy patterns along my back, grounding me, his touch gentle despite the roughness of his words earlier. His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear, a rhythm that slowly lulled me into calm.

“You matter more than I want you to.” he whispered into the dark,

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his chest, right over his heart.  

Sleep came slowly, but it came—with his arms around me, holding me like he never wanted to let go.

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