secret-sturniolo

[secret-sturniolo]

I want to remind all my young and impressionable girlies (age doesn’t matter really), that sex is a big commitment.

Sex: isn’t always fun like writers describe it too be

Sex: contain bad consequences. Like STD’s, unplanned childbirths, abuse.

Boyfriends: aren’t always meant to be trusted, even if you “love him”

Boyfriends: ARE STILL BOYS. They can say whatever they want to push you in the direction to do things for them.

Reading about sex and having sex are two different things. Although I don’t care for the term virginity (social construct to make men look superior and women inferior) you must always, always, always put your self first!

I personally believe teenagers (yes, that includes 18-19) shouldn’t have sex. I’m well aware it ‘takes two to tango’ but it’s usually the women who end up with all the problems.

KEEP YOURSELF SAFE. This is something you should be very selfish about

[secret-sturniolo]

stop 😭

*all credits to envysturn on twt*

[secret-sturniolo]

this moment will go down in sturniolo history. ur a real one kiki

😈 Exposing the NDA Accounts ~ Part Two 2️⃣🧨

I told y'all I know what I'm doing. Whoever unfollowed because of my little shenanigans, come back! 😭

Obviously, y’all saw the straight-up lies made. and you also saw the (horrible, immature, stupid) rebuttals made by those who are a part of the whole NDA scheme.

So, I have a part two to add some updates.

After they were freaking out to me about posting Part One, they came flooding to my DMs with anger and feelings of betrayal, and how I lied to the, and how they were crying, and yadda yadda yadda...

The accounts are @dollysturniolo @coolasice01 @munchingmini

The “Chris” account was so mad 😭 So I was like “Okay, let me see proof.” I asked for concrete proof, which I specifically requested a photo of them all together with Dolly or the girl claiming to be Matt’s girlfriend. I framed it like "As long as you have a third-party (who would be me) to verify that you're telling the truth, then people are more inclined to believe you. The logic behind that is that when you want people to believe a secret you’re spilling, whether it’s the full truth or a full lie, you need an outside source to verify everything, kind of like an intervention.

There were some hiccups before I got what I wanted. It was the obvious liar tricks pulled right out of their hats, like "She's insecure about the way she looks so she won't give you anything", or "My hair looked bad in that photo so I put my hoodie on and it won't be obvious", or yadda yadda yadda.

But I didn't give a fuck. I pressured until they gave me the photos.

So, I got my photos. And dear God or whoever's up there in the universe, they were the worst pieces of evidence I have ever seen.

The first photo I got was of the boys, excluding Nick, and some friends when they were obviously still young and in high school. I recognized Matt's ex Nicole next to them, not that that's relevant, but it provides extra context to the photos. Keep in mind, the characters like Dolly and Chris and Matt have all claimed to have known each other for almost a decade, so this checks out time-wise.

"Chris" blocked out Doll's face because she's insecure... or whatever.

However, that image was easily traceable and I reverse-image-searched it and voila: It popped up on Pinterest as an old throwback photo from their Snapchat. And I saw what she looked like.

And that is not Doll, that is one of their high school friends that even popped up in one of their earlier, now-deleted, vlogs. Dolly is British, and the girl doesn't have a British accent in the videos I remember seeing her in. It was straight-up American, and especially Bostonian.

Also, all of the characters claim that Doll is much older than the boys'. My thing is, if she's much older than them, it would be weird of her to hang out with them when they're 14-15 year old teenagers. But let's gloss over that since the "characters" gloss over how weird that is too.

There's another photo too. This one took a lot more convincing to get, but I finally got it! It is a picture of her and Chris. "Chris" posted and deleted that picture fast, so I had to be fast AS FUCK to get a screenshot. I'm impressed with myself.

Now, here's the the thing: Maybe if you're looking at it on first glance, or if you aren't wearing your glasses, or if you're just not a Chris girl, then that photo seems convincing.

But please use your eyes. That photo is a real photo with real people. It can't be reverse-searched. But why do I say it's not Chris? Because it is doctored. Like obviously.

Now I'm impressed by Doll- or whoever's- tech skills because by gosh it looks pretty good. But as someone who knows a thing or two about editing photos and figuring out what's real and what isn't, it was pretty obviously fake.

The photo was a pic of Chris masked over an actual man's, maybe AI was used to mask Chris's face over the actual guy's, or maybe it was FaceApp, or just some really good photoshop.

God he's fine as hell. You know what Doja Cat said about noses.

Here’s some pics of Chris. Now let’s compare them, shall we? 🥰

The eyes are the main giveaway. One eye looks normal with a reflection, while the other has no pupil, and the reflection is not where it should be based on the positioning of the photo and where the main lighting is coming from in the photo.

The tip of this man's nose is longer than that of Chris's.

The real Chris's cupid's bow and arch is wider than that of the man in the photo's.

The real Chris's mustache stops more centimeters away from his lips compared to this man's. The hairs of Chris's mustache and facial hair in general are darker than those of this man's.

Chris has a square jaw while this man's jaw is triangle shaped, and no, the hoodie isn't obscuring anything. Even if the hoodie is removed and you see that bit of shadowed jaw, the angle of the jawline is different than that of the real Chris Sturniolo's.

There's other miniscule details, such as the way the hair fibers of her hair over his face are fuzzy rather than obvious strands which should be obvious since its a dark substance over something light, the hairs create a shadow on the man's face rather than creating actual lines as hair usually does, his hand literally not Chris's hand as it is fuller than Chris's, and the shadows are not where they should be in this photo based on the lighting and angles.

There's a lot more things we discussed in details such as Chris's kinks which, based on tarot, were all lies.

I mentioned how Chris is a submissive, chain-using, piss kink foot lover... which are all very untrue.

So, yeah they're faking it. 😭😭 I'm super curious of how they're gonna try to explain all of this. Let's stay tuned. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Again, sorry for causing y'all anxiety with those fake kiss-ass posts. I won't scare y'all like this again LMAO.

[secret-sturniolo]

This might be so weird but I love like thinking about the triplets being my older brothers and have since I started watching them. It brings me so much comfort

I actually don't think this is that weird as long as it's within reason. we all need things that make us feel safe 🥰

[secret-sturniolo]

this shit got me dying

[secret-sturniolo]

my brother has down syndrome. i am extremely disgusted by @thetripouts and everyone included in that group. the r slur is offensive and derogatory, and there is absolutely no excuse for its use. please help us hold these people accountable.

[secret-sturniolo]

Hugging the Cactus - Matt Sturniolo (1.9k words)

warnings: angst, smut w/ plot, unprotected sex (don't do that irl), feelings of inadequacy. no use of y/n.

My best friend's brother AND enemies with benefits? Sounds like something you would read on one of those fanfiction websites.

If I was a big pink balloon flying through the air, Matt would be the field of cactuses I pop in. I guess you could call him a buzzkill. A party-pooper, if you will. His sour attitude and pessimistic outlooks are quick to overpower my outgoing and optimistic personality when we’re together. And, okay, maybe that sounds a little harsh. Matt’s not totally a terrible guy, after all. Even I can see that. But despite my best efforts to be civil, it feels like we are magnets constantly repelling each other. But there's one time where our opposites attract, and we wind up with a single thing in common… sex.

The sex was, admittedly, a stupid idea. My best friend's brother AND enemies with benefits? Sounds like something you would read on one of those fanfiction websites. Late night horny thoughts and a few tequila shots led to both of us naked in his bed. When we woke the next morning with pounding headaches, Matt was quick to put an end to it. We swore the drunken mistake would never happen again. And it didn't. We were sober the next time we hooked up. 

It was the perfect setup. We didn’t have to get along, and we both got what we wanted without any strings attached. To everybody else, nothing had changed. Even between Matt and I, our head-butting remained the same until the house was empty, and Matt and I were left alone. We fight, we fuck, I leave. Rinse and repeat. This cycle goes on far longer than I had ever meant it to, and that scared me. Because I knew deep down that the stirring in my chest and warm feeling in my tummy were not things I was supposed to be feeling when I was with Matt. He only wanted one thing from me, and that had been clear from the beginning. So why does it still sting when he refuses to kiss me, or when I’m expected to just get dressed and leave? I agreed to this after all, didn't I?

I wasn't surprised when Matt came and found me in the living room after Nick and Chris had decided to go out for the night. He catches my eye from across the room. 

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” He raises his eyebrows in question, arms crossed.

For the first time, I really have to consider for a second if I even wanted to do this. I ignore the feeling in my gut… longing? Regret?

“I mean, yeah. If you want to…” I keep my tone casual, nonchalant. 

“Of course I fucking want to.” His voice is suddenly deeper as he motions me to follow him back to his room. 

I barely shut the door behind me before his lips are on my neck, his hands pushing me against the door. His mouth moves from my jaw down to my collarbone, his hands wandering appreciatively over my chest. He pulls away, playing with the hem of my shirt, silently asking permission. He’s quick to remove his own shirt after mine, and one by one our garments fall to the floor. He pulls me into his bed, hovering over me with arms on either side of my head. His fingers softly tease my clit, just enough to get me soaking, leaving me whining for more. 

“You ready?” His rough voice just next to my ear is enough to keep the butterflies going. 

“Please…” I whine softly, my hips raising off the bed, seeking more of his touch. More of him.

He teases his tip through my folds before finally sliding inside through one fluid, hard thrust. His movements are intense, slightly harsh, and to the point. He quickly finds his rhythm, keeping a tight grip on my hips as our bodies move perfectly in sync. He whispers soft curses, my fingertips tracing slowly down his chest and stomach leaving a trail of goosebumps behind them. 

“Matt… fuck!” I meet his eyes, a look of total bliss on my face. 

“Don’t fucking look at me like that.” His voice comes out in almost a growl. 

“Like what?” I breathe out in a soft moan.

“Like you’re in love with me or something.” He says harshly, breaking eye contact to look down at our bodies connecting.

His words sting, even though I know they shouldn't. I push away any feeling I have and instead focus on the pleasure rising in my body. I whine, throwing my head back against the pillow and letting my eyes fall closed. 

“Fuck yeah…”

Matt’s groans next to my ear grow louder, his hips jerking forward before stuttering to a stop, pleasure consuming both of our bodies. My nails dig into his shoulder. I can feel his heart beating against mine, and the intimacy of the moment feels good. Too good. After a short moment he pulls away, laying flat on his back with a sigh. That was my cue, this is when I get up and get dressed before he has to tell me to. Suddenly feeling self conscious and slightly regretful, I slip on my bra and panties before walking to his bathroom to clean myself up. When I come back out of the bathroom, Matt’s sitting up in bed against the headboard scrolling through his phone, seemingly uninterested in whatever I’m doing. I ignore how his eyes flick up at me every few seconds as I slip on my previously discarded t-shirt and sweatpants. 

“You’re not gonna stay?” His voice cuts through the silence.

I look up at him, confused. Since when is he concerned about me leaving? “I never stay.” I point out in a flat tone.

He runs his hand through his hair with another sigh. “Right.” He pretends to be uninterested as I gather the rest of my belongings. “Got somewhere better to be?” He asks in the snarky tone I’m used to. 

I furrow my brows at him, not hiding the slightly offended look on my face. “No. And even if I did, that shouldn't matter to you.”

He ignores my second comment. “Then why leave? It’s late, and it’s pouring rain outside, anyway.”

I don’t recognize this new tone of his voice, and I’m hesitant to go along with whatever it is that he’s trying to do. I keep my voice neutral. “I didn’t think you ever wanted me to stay.”

He just stares at me for a moment, silent. “I never said you have to leave. You just do.”

His words catch me off guard, and I realize he’s right. For once, I don’t have any idea what to say to him. I feel torn. On one hand, I knew what the rules were. On the other hand, I didn’t want to deny the feelings stirring within me. 

“Do you want me to stay?”

Now it was his turn to think. I could almost see the battle he was fighting inside his own mind. Finally, looking a little defeated and almost pained, he nods slowly. I feel my heart pound. Fuck it. I set my phone and keys back down on the dresser, walking back over to his side of the bed. I slip under the covers, afraid to get too close to him. After a few moments, he slips his arm under my back, pulling me into his side. Not wanting to test my luck, I rest my head on his chest, just accepting this new touch. I can hear his heart beating under my ear, maybe even faster than my own. We may not have ever gotten along, but I’m not an idiot. I can tell when he's anxious, picking up on his subtle mannerisms. 

“Matt, relax.” I speak in almost a whisper. He doesn’t respond to me, instead taking a deep breath. I let the silence go on a bit longer before I feel brave enough to speak again.

“What are you so afraid of?” I don’t need to give him any more context. He and I both know what I’m referring to. I can tell he doesn’t want to answer the question. But truth be told, it’s one that should have been had months ago.

“Nothing.”

“...Right.” I don’t push it any further, again, not wanting to test my luck any more than I already had.

His eyes stare ahead at the ceiling, and it's almost as if I can hear the gears turning in his brain. He shifts slightly, his fingertips ghosting over the fabric covering my back. We lay in silence for a few minutes before I hear his voice again, this time much softer than before.

“I’m afraid of fucking this up.”

I realize that in this moment, Matt is being 100% genuine with me, and I’m not sure how to handle it at first. I knew I was probably still on thin ice. 

“How would you fuck this up?” I ask, trying to understand more of where his head is at. 

He tenses again, and I can tell he’s thinking very carefully about what he wants to say next.

“By letting myself get too close.”

I let his words sink in for a moment, not sure if I was fully understanding him.

“What do you mean?”

He sighs. “...By falling for you, and having it all blow up in my face when you realize you don’t want me.”

I can’t help but let out a small laugh. He can’t be serious, right?

“What? Why are you laughing?” Matt starts to get defensive again, but I quickly stop him, laying my hand on his chest.

“I’m sorry, it's just… I’ve been thinking the same thing.” I pick my head up, meeting his eyes.

I can practically see his eyes light up, a small smile playing on his lips when he realizes I wasn’t making fun of him. 

“No fucking way!” He breathes out a breath of relief, shaking his head against the pillow.

“This is so dumb…” I giggle, realizing that we had both been putting ourselves under unnecessary pressure. 

A soft breathy laugh escapes his lifts, almost a sound of disbelief. As if he didn’t want to waste any more time, he cuts me off before I can say anything else by pressing his lips against mine. It feels like time stands still. For months, we had been intimate, but not intimate. His refusal to kiss me, of all things, was now long forgotten. And it all suddenly made sense. His lips spoke silently what they couldn’t say out loud, and I understood every word of it. The dam of tension that had been building and building now broke, letting all of our emotions flood out at once. 

He breaks the kiss, holding my head close against his forehead. Our eyes are closed, just soaking in the moment, soaking in us. 

Maybe I had misread Matt. From the outside, all I could see were the sharp spikes he was covered in. I never bothered to look any further than that. Cactuses are sharp, right? Everybody knows that. But maybe, just once, try hugging the cactus. You might be surprised by what you find.

[secret-sturniolo]

Hugging the Cactus - Matt Sturniolo (1.9k words)

warnings: angst, smut w/ plot, unprotected sex (don't do that irl), feelings of inadequacy. no use of y/n.

My best friend's brother AND enemies with benefits? Sounds like something you would read on one of those fanfiction websites.

If I was a big pink balloon flying through the air, Matt would be the field of cactuses I pop in. I guess you could call him a buzzkill. A party-pooper, if you will. His sour attitude and pessimistic outlooks are quick to overpower my outgoing and optimistic personality when we’re together. And, okay, maybe that sounds a little harsh. Matt’s not totally a terrible guy, after all. Even I can see that. But despite my best efforts to be civil, it feels like we are magnets constantly repelling each other. But there's one time where our opposites attract, and we wind up with a single thing in common… sex.

The sex was, admittedly, a stupid idea. My best friend's brother AND enemies with benefits? Sounds like something you would read on one of those fanfiction websites. Late night horny thoughts and a few tequila shots led to both of us naked in his bed. When we woke the next morning with pounding headaches, Matt was quick to put an end to it. We swore the drunken mistake would never happen again. And it didn't. We were sober the next time we hooked up. 

It was the perfect setup. We didn’t have to get along, and we both got what we wanted without any strings attached. To everybody else, nothing had changed. Even between Matt and I, our head-butting remained the same until the house was empty, and Matt and I were left alone. We fight, we fuck, I leave. Rinse and repeat. This cycle goes on far longer than I had ever meant it to, and that scared me. Because I knew deep down that the stirring in my chest and warm feeling in my tummy were not things I was supposed to be feeling when I was with Matt. He only wanted one thing from me, and that had been clear from the beginning. So why does it still sting when he refuses to kiss me, or when I’m expected to just get dressed and leave? I agreed to this after all, didn't I?

I wasn't surprised when Matt came and found me in the living room after Nick and Chris had decided to go out for the night. He catches my eye from across the room. 

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” He raises his eyebrows in question, arms crossed.

For the first time, I really have to consider for a second if I even wanted to do this. I ignore the feeling in my gut… longing? Regret?

“I mean, yeah. If you want to…” I keep my tone casual, nonchalant. 

“Of course I fucking want to.” His voice is suddenly deeper as he motions me to follow him back to his room. 

I barely shut the door behind me before his lips are on my neck, his hands pushing me against the door. His mouth moves from my jaw down to my collarbone, his hands wandering appreciatively over my chest. He pulls away, playing with the hem of my shirt, silently asking permission. He’s quick to remove his own shirt after mine, and one by one our garments fall to the floor. He pulls me into his bed, hovering over me with arms on either side of my head. His fingers softly tease my clit, just enough to get me soaking, leaving me whining for more. 

“You ready?” His rough voice just next to my ear is enough to keep the butterflies going. 

“Please…” I whine softly, my hips raising off the bed, seeking more of his touch. More of him.

He teases his tip through my folds before finally sliding inside through one fluid, hard thrust. His movements are intense, slightly harsh, and to the point. He quickly finds his rhythm, keeping a tight grip on my hips as our bodies move perfectly in sync. He whispers soft curses, my fingertips tracing slowly down his chest and stomach leaving a trail of goosebumps behind them. 

“Matt… fuck!” I meet his eyes, a look of total bliss on my face. 

“Don’t fucking look at me like that.” His voice comes out in almost a growl. 

“Like what?” I breathe out in a soft moan.

“Like you’re in love with me or something.” He says harshly, breaking eye contact to look down at our bodies connecting.

His words sting, even though I know they shouldn't. I push away any feeling I have and instead focus on the pleasure rising in my body. I whine, throwing my head back against the pillow and letting my eyes fall closed. 

“Fuck yeah…”

Matt’s groans next to my ear grow louder, his hips jerking forward before stuttering to a stop, pleasure consuming both of our bodies. My nails dig into his shoulder. I can feel his heart beating against mine, and the intimacy of the moment feels good. Too good. After a short moment he pulls away, laying flat on his back with a sigh. That was my cue, this is when I get up and get dressed before he has to tell me to. Suddenly feeling self conscious and slightly regretful, I slip on my bra and panties before walking to his bathroom to clean myself up. When I come back out of the bathroom, Matt’s sitting up in bed against the headboard scrolling through his phone, seemingly uninterested in whatever I’m doing. I ignore how his eyes flick up at me every few seconds as I slip on my previously discarded t-shirt and sweatpants. 

“You’re not gonna stay?” His voice cuts through the silence.

I look up at him, confused. Since when is he concerned about me leaving? “I never stay.” I point out in a flat tone.

He runs his hand through his hair with another sigh. “Right.” He pretends to be uninterested as I gather the rest of my belongings. “Got somewhere better to be?” He asks in the snarky tone I’m used to. 

I furrow my brows at him, not hiding the slightly offended look on my face. “No. And even if I did, that shouldn't matter to you.”

He ignores my second comment. “Then why leave? It’s late, and it’s pouring rain outside, anyway.”

I don’t recognize this new tone of his voice, and I’m hesitant to go along with whatever it is that he’s trying to do. I keep my voice neutral. “I didn’t think you ever wanted me to stay.”

He just stares at me for a moment, silent. “I never said you have to leave. You just do.”

His words catch me off guard, and I realize he’s right. For once, I don’t have any idea what to say to him. I feel torn. On one hand, I knew what the rules were. On the other hand, I didn’t want to deny the feelings stirring within me. 

“Do you want me to stay?”

Now it was his turn to think. I could almost see the battle he was fighting inside his own mind. Finally, looking a little defeated and almost pained, he nods slowly. I feel my heart pound. Fuck it. I set my phone and keys back down on the dresser, walking back over to his side of the bed. I slip under the covers, afraid to get too close to him. After a few moments, he slips his arm under my back, pulling me into his side. Not wanting to test my luck, I rest my head on his chest, just accepting this new touch. I can hear his heart beating under my ear, maybe even faster than my own. We may not have ever gotten along, but I’m not an idiot. I can tell when he's anxious, picking up on his subtle mannerisms. 

“Matt, relax.” I speak in almost a whisper. He doesn’t respond to me, instead taking a deep breath. I let the silence go on a bit longer before I feel brave enough to speak again.

“What are you so afraid of?” I don’t need to give him any more context. He and I both know what I’m referring to. I can tell he doesn’t want to answer the question. But truth be told, it’s one that should have been had months ago.

“Nothing.”

“...Right.” I don’t push it any further, again, not wanting to test my luck any more than I already had.

His eyes stare ahead at the ceiling, and it's almost as if I can hear the gears turning in his brain. He shifts slightly, his fingertips ghosting over the fabric covering my back. We lay in silence for a few minutes before I hear his voice again, this time much softer than before.

“I’m afraid of fucking this up.”

I realize that in this moment, Matt is being 100% genuine with me, and I’m not sure how to handle it at first. I knew I was probably still on thin ice. 

“How would you fuck this up?” I ask, trying to understand more of where his head is at. 

He tenses again, and I can tell he’s thinking very carefully about what he wants to say next.

“By letting myself get too close.”

I let his words sink in for a moment, not sure if I was fully understanding him.

“What do you mean?”

He sighs. “...By falling for you, and having it all blow up in my face when you realize you don’t want me.”

I can’t help but let out a small laugh. He can’t be serious, right?

“What? Why are you laughing?” Matt starts to get defensive again, but I quickly stop him, laying my hand on his chest.

“I’m sorry, it's just… I’ve been thinking the same thing.” I pick my head up, meeting his eyes.

I can practically see his eyes light up, a small smile playing on his lips when he realizes I wasn’t making fun of him. 

“No fucking way!” He breathes out a breath of relief, shaking his head against the pillow.

“This is so dumb…” I giggle, realizing that we had both been putting ourselves under unnecessary pressure. 

A soft breathy laugh escapes his lifts, almost a sound of disbelief. As if he didn’t want to waste any more time, he cuts me off before I can say anything else by pressing his lips against mine. It feels like time stands still. For months, we had been intimate, but not intimate. His refusal to kiss me, of all things, was now long forgotten. And it all suddenly made sense. His lips spoke silently what they couldn’t say out loud, and I understood every word of it. The dam of tension that had been building and building now broke, letting all of our emotions flood out at once. 

He breaks the kiss, holding my head close against his forehead. Our eyes are closed, just soaking in the moment, soaking in us. 

Maybe I had misread Matt. From the outside, all I could see were the sharp spikes he was covered in. I never bothered to look any further than that. Cactuses are sharp, right? Everybody knows that. But maybe, just once, try hugging the cactus. You might be surprised by what you find.

[secret-sturniolo]

im cooking something real good y'all. should i bring back my writing era? 😳

[secret-sturniolo]

so yall can stop complaining

they will be recording their own shows!!!!. they do not want fans to record. 

[secret-sturniolo]

MATT WITH THE LV DUFFEL?

[secret-sturniolo]

chat am i funny

[secret-sturniolo]

the block button is truly a wonderful invention 🥰

I’m not bullying her I’m just saying the truth. And yes I DID with death on a minor and I don’t give a fuck all yall bitches are annoying 😭. Seriously get a grip

ESPECIALLY @muwapsturniolo @thenickgirl @leoslaboratory and many more 😭 yall bitches.

[secret-sturniolo]

I love this shit

picnic date:bd!chris

1.1k w/c

chris pulls up outside your apartment, fingers gripping the steering wheel tight, nerves buzzing under his skin.

a picnic. he still can’t believe he thought of that.

he’s never been this guy—the one who plans shit. dates, flowers, gestures that mean something. but last night, you said yes. whispered it so soft he almost didn’t catch it, but he did.

and now he’s here, checking the basket in the backseat, triple-checking that he brought the right drinks, the right food—like any of that’s gonna calm his ass down.

then, he sees you.

and it like he forgets how to breathe.

you step out of your building, the sunlight catching on your skin, your hair, making you glow. a little bag over your shoulder, nails painted something deep and rich, like blood or wine. your white top clings in all the right places, but it’s those tiny-ass, red-and-white ruffled shorts that make his throat go dry.

“shit,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face, trying—failing—to pull himself together.

you smirk when you get close, reading him like you always do. like you know exactly what you’re doing. “you wore this on purpose,” he accuses, voice dipping.

you shrug. “you told me to wear something that makes me feel good.”

chris shakes his head, tongue swiping over his bottom lip.

big fucking mistake.

“you look good. real good,” he murmurs. his eyes drag over you again, lingering a second too long before he forces himself to move, to breathe, to act normal.

“c’mon, let’s go.”

the drive is quiet, but not uncomfortable. music low, his fingers tapping the wheel, yours tracing idle patterns against your thigh.

chris takes you out of the city, far enough that it feels different—slower, intentional. the park is quiet, sunlight filtering through the tall trees, open fields stretching out before you.

and when he opens the backdoor, pulling out the blanket, the basket, the effort, you blink at him, lips parting in surprise.

“you did all this?”

chris raises a brow. “you think i just be winging shit?”

you hesitate. “…yes.”

he snorts, shaking his head. “nah, mama. not this time. wanted to do it right.”

your chest tightens.

because this is new. chris thinking ahead. chris trying.

it’s easy at first. conversations flow naturally, laughter spilling between bites of food. you steal a grape from his hand. he flicks a crumb at you. the old rhythm slips back into place, smooth, effortless, familiar.

but then—you feel it creeping in.

the weight.

the unspoken.

you glance at him, watching the way he leans back on his palms, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his cuban catches the light just right. and before you can stop yourself, before you can swallow it down like you always do—

���i don’t wanna fall back into old habits.”

chris stills.

his gaze flicks to yours, brow furrowing. “what?” you take a breath, exhaling slow. “if we’re doing this… we need to set some boundaries.”

chris watches you carefully, expression unreadable.

you chew on your lip, fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket. “i just—I don’t wanna keep pretending like things are simple when they’re not. i don’t wanna just fall into bed with you and act like it doesn’t mean anything.”

chris doesn’t say anything at first, just studies you, jaw tightening like he’s thinking hard. then, finally—

“you think that’s all i want?” his voice is quiet.

you hesitate. “i don’t know.” chris drags a hand over his face, exhaling through his nose. “shit.” he shakes his head, looking down, like that hurt him a little.

“chris—”

“nah, i get it.” his voice is rough, but not angry. “i fucked up before, right? so now you think i’m just—what? tryna work my way back into your bed?”

you shift, feeling the weight of it settle in your chest. “i don’t think that’s all you want,” you admit. “but i do think it’d be easy to go back to that. and i can’t do that again. i need…”

chris leans forward, arms resting on his knees, staring straight at you. “tell me what you need.” your throat tightens. “no sleeping together. not until we figure out what this actually is.”

chris sucks in a slow breath, tongue running over his bottom lip.

then—he nods. doesn’t fight it. doesn’t argue. just accepts it.

“alright.” his voice is firm. “no sleeping together.” a slow exhale leaves your lips, relief washing over you. because he’s listening.

you chew on your lip before adding, “no messing around with other people.”chris tilts his head, amused. but his next words are quiet, firm.

“wasn’t doing that anyway.”

you stare at him, something pressing against your ribs, something dangerous.

you believe him.

chris leans back on his hands, nodding to himself. “Okay. No sleeping together. no one else. just us.”

you let the words settle, let yourself believe them.

but there’s more. “i don’t wanna fight all the time,” you add quietly.

chris glances at you, brows lifting. “i mean it,” you murmur. “i know we got our past, and i know it’s messy, but i don’t wanna be… toxic. i don’t wanna argue just to argue. if we got a problem, we talk about it. no ignoring, no running, no letting shit build up.”

chris’s jaw flexes, his fingers drumming against his knee. but after a moment—he nods. “alright. no bullshit. we talk.”

“and no lying to each other,” you add. “not about how we feel, not about anything.”

chris looks at you then, really looks at you."not even little lies?” he teases.you give him a look. “not even little lies.”

chris hums. “damn. you serious about this, huh?” you exhale, fingers tightening around the blanket. “yeah. i am.” chris is quiet for a long moment. then—

“okay,” he murmurs. “no sleeping together. no one else. no fighting just to fight. no lying. just… real shit.”

you swallow. “yeah. real shit.”

the sun is lower when he pulls up to your place, the sky soft with pinks and golds.

chris shifts in his seat, fingers drumming against the steering wheel, like he’s waiting for something.

you hesitate before speaking. “i had fun.”

chris exhales, like he needed to hear that. “yeah?”

you nod.

he watches you for a moment, like he wants to say something else—but instead, he reaches into the backseat, grabbing something.

and then—he hands you a small bouquet. not roses. not over the top. just wildflowers. simple. thoughtful.

your breath catches. “chris—”

he shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. “just wanted to do it right.”

your fingers tighten around the stems, heart knocking against your ribs.

chris leans back, watching you with something soft. “so, when’s the next one?”

you blink. “the next what?”

chris smirks. “date.”your lips part, because you hadn’t thought that far.

but then—you realize you want to.

so, before you can second-guess it, before you can let fear creep in, you whisper, “…whenever you want.”

chris smiles, the kind that makes all 32 teeth show.

“damn,” he mutters, voice warm. “i really, really like hearing that.”

labdata: this was longer then i thought it was gonna be hopefully yall like it.the png i made is throwing me off but whatever

[secret-sturniolo]

reblog this with the worst mispronunciation of “sturniolo triplets” you’ve ever heard. ill start.

“the turnlyonly brothers” 😭

[secret-sturniolo]

so basically matts not afraid to get his hands dirty

[secret-sturniolo]

PLEASE GOD NO