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OMDB ☠ NO ONE LEAVES CLEAN ☠ TAGLIST 2

@carrielovesmatt @strvocean3 @mattsdiamonds @milo-the-dog @sabheartsturn @xerxes851 @matts-247 @lizzysmith110 @lm-a-mirrorball @le4hsblog @ussse @sophreakingcool @matthewssangel @sturnsxbitvh @wesj11

( if you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post )

ㅤOMDB | OVER MY DEAD BODY ☠ NO ONE LEAVES CLEAN

SUMMARY　::　Where Los Angeles bleeds behind neon lights, and the Sturniolo Mafia holds the knife.

dark romance, found family, enemies to lovers

FEATURING　::　mafia boss!Matt Sturniolo x sex worker!Y/N

WARNINGS　::　mentions of sexual abuse and firearms, use of explicit language, sexual tension, and obsessive behavior. also, the boys are mean! (they're in the mafia, don't expect them to be gentlemen or sweethearts).

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

IMPORTANT LINKS　::　 INTRODUCTION + CHAPTERS && TAGLIST

THE silence after the chaos was almost louder than the screaming. The mansion felt frozen in time. Y/N was still on the floor, feeling eyes burning her skin, the man watching her as if waiting for her to explode again.

Her skin was still tingling from what had happened. The cold ground against her knees was an uncomfortable reminder that she was too vulnerable — and yet, she didn't want to show it. Showing weakness was like painting a target on her own face.

She coughed, clearing her throat. Then, she lifted her chin slowly, eyes defiant, fingers still tense on her thighs, her breathing heavy as she tried to calm down.

"What? You want me to take my clothes off now?" She spat, voice hoarse and venomous. "Isn’t that what you wanted?"

There was a beat of thick silence before anyone moved.

Nick broke the tension. He descended the last steps with firm strides, dark eyes locked on her. But it wasn’t anger. It was judgment. A cold, surgical assessment. He approached, his footsteps echoing. He stopped in front of Y/N and crouched slightly — not kneeling, but low enough for her to look up at him.

She held back a flinch. She hadn’t expected a man like him — important, seemingly untouchable — to lower himself to her level.

Nick looked her over from head to toe, clicked his tongue.

"You’re too far from the city to walk back. That’s why they tried to stop you." He said plainly.

Y/N stared back with contempt.

"Is that an excuse? Or an apology?" She snapped. "Raping a prostitute isn’t good for your reputation, is that it? Fuck off. I wasn’t scared. I’ve dealt with men twice as terrifying as you."

Nick didn’t respond. Didn’t even flinch. He just pulled out his phone and typed something.

"I’m calling a car." He said simply, standing up. "It’ll take you back. Far from my house."

When she heard she was leaving, Y/N’s eyes flew to the cash scattered near her body, some of it stomped on by Sam himself — and Matt, who had been silent until then, noticed it, and stepped forward. He pulled his wallet from his jacket — Y/N recognized the expensive brand on the black leather instantly. It was expensive, too expensive. From it, he pulled out a bunch of bills and folded them calmly.

"Keep it." He said, handing it to her. "Your ride will be here soon, doll."

Y/N hesitated. Inside, she wanted to spit in his face. But outside… she knew she needed that money more than she could admit. Her fingers stretched. She grabbed the cash from his hands, then turned and quickly picked up the notes she had thrown at Sam’s feet. Ignoring the humiliation, she shoved them back into the back pocket of her skirt.

"You’re not gonna fuck me?" She asked, harsh, almost like a challenge, as she stood up, adjusting her skirt with quick hands, eyes still locked on the men in front of her. "I get to keep this all just like that?"

Chris let out a sarcastic laugh as he pulled a cigarette from his box of overpriced smokes.

"You want more than that?" The youngest asked, a defiant glint in his eyes.

"Fuck off." Y/N snapped, eyes ablaze.

Chris smirked, lighting his cigarette slowly.

"Cute. You’ve said that already."

Sam and Nate murmured something to each other, muffled whispers she couldn’t fully make out.

"You want me to fuck you?" Matt muttered, pulling a cigarette from Chris’s box and placing it between his lips casually, teasing. "Because I definitely can do that."

She didn’t reply.

Nick, still with his phone in hand, looked up.

"Car’s already waiting outside."

Y/N took a step back, wary. Chris scoffed.

"She’s just gonna walk out like that? Just like that?" He asked Nick.

Nick looked at Chris, then at Y/N, up and down, and answered.

"She’s not my problem. Either she goes… or I blow her head off in two seconds. Your call."

Chris rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He turned and walked over to Nate and Sam. Matt shot Nick a sharp look before turning to Y/N.

"Go." He said, lower, firmer.

And she did.

Maybe it was foolish. Maybe it was survival. But for the first time in a long while, she acted on impulse and ran out the door, directly to the unknown car.

The drive back was a blur, but a blur full of uncomfortable details. The sky outside seemed too dark for the hour, the city passing by the bulletproof windows like a dirty silent movie. Y/N barely blinked, her eyes fixed on some undefined point in the glass. The neon signs reflected off the car's interior, painting her face with colors that didn't belong to her: red, blue, green.

Her hands were clenched in her lap, her fingers intertwined so tightly they hurt.

The driver didn't say a word. He didn't ask if she was okay, didn't mention the mumbled address. He simply drove with precision, as if that route were already programmed into his mind. The silence in the car was so absolute that Y/N could hear her own heart pounding loudly inside her chest, as if trying to escape.

The armored car stopped, and she stepped out slowly, closing the door without looking back as the wheels sped away over cracked asphalt. The chipped blue-gray building façade hit like a slap of reality.

She climbed the creaky stairs. With each step, the pain in her body came alive. Her heels burned. Her ribs throbbed. Her knees scraped against old tights.

She opened the apartment door. The smell of mold and burnt water filled her nose. It was dark. She tossed the keys onto the coffee table, littered with cigarette butts, crumpled bills, and a capless pen.

She passed the sunken couch, the broken TV in the corner, the torn curtain, and headed to the bedroom. The mattress had the thinnest sheet imaginable. The wood beneath was swollen with moisture. The ceiling still dripped from the upstairs neighbor.

Y/N collapsed onto it, curling up until her knees met her chest and her ribs screamed. The pain was warm. Instinctively, she reached into the back pocket of her skirt and pulled out the money.

She stared at the bills for far too many minutes to count, until she blacked out.

Eyes still open.

HOURS passed.

When her eyes opened again, the sky was already dark once more. The room was steeped in shadow, and the distant sound of cars outside was muffled by moldy walls. Y/N took a deep breath, burying her head again into the thin pillow. Her whole body ached now. Not just from the bruises of recent days, nor just from the impact of the previous night — but inside too.

It wasn’t new.

Living in an apartment barely holding together, where electricity and water were cut off randomly, where mold crept up the walls and cold seeped in through cracked windows, meant her body was never truly healthy for long.

But she didn’t have the luxury to rest.

She dragged herself to the bathroom. The mirror was cracked, stained from years of steam and neglect. Still, she stared at herself — melted makeup, puffy eyes, hair stuck to her forehead. She turned the faucet and ignored the groaning metal, shoved her trembling hands under the water and splashed her face, scrubbing the smudges away, brushing her teeth after. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was enough.

Then, she changed clothes, applied light foundation, smeared mascara, dark red lipstick. She tied her hair in a way that could fall easily and went to the kitchen. The fridge groaned when opened, revealing only old butter, a bottle of water, and in the back, a cheap bottle of tequila. She grabbed it, took three long gulps straight from the bottle, and then stashed it back like gold.

The night was calling.

She left the apartment and locked the door with effort. A curse escaping her throat when the lock creaked, nearly falling apart, and she had to push it twice before she heard the click.

She was heading down the stairs when she heard footsteps and, instinctively, pressed against the wall. But it was just a neighbor from the second floor. She ignored him.

The street felt colder than usual.

Y/N walked for long minutes to her spot — a spot strategically close to the entrance to one of the street's hottest clubs, where only a select few were allowed. Her body stopped directly beneath a streetlight that, though faulty, illuminated her just right. This had been her territory for years.

She leaned against the concrete wall, her eyes trained on the cars gliding slowly along the busy street. The ground beneath her heels already knew the rhythm of her steps, and the invisible neighbors on the opposite sidewalk recognized her from afar, just by the sway of her hips and the erect posture that made her seem like she belonged in that glittering chaos.

That night was no different.

She was waiting for a regular client — a man in a neatly pressed suit who liked to pretend she was his only secret lover. He had promised to return two days ago, with drunk lips and desperate hands, and Y/N was counting on his word — or his money, really. But when a black car, a different one, approached too slowly, her breath hitched.

She thought it was him. Took a step forward, biting her lower lip and adjusting the thin strap of her top below her small jacket. Her heel scratched the asphalt. The engine rumbled to a stop, and the window began to roll down slowly. Her smile formed before she could confirm it — but disappeared just as quickly, along with any expectation of a normal night.

Matt.

And Chris, fully slouched against the passenger seat, clearly displeased to be there.

"Were you waiting for me, baby?" Matt teased, smirking, his dark blue eyes traveling shamelessly down her body.

She scoffed, straightening up, arms crossing over her chest.

"What are you doing here?"

"What? Is it wrong to have a little fun now?" He wet his lips, eyes traveling to the club door momentarily before finding Y/N’s again, hers full of incriminating doubt.

He sighed.

"You’re back on the street." Matt mumbled, his voice laced with veiled accusation, leaning against the inside of the car door, then added. "The money I gave you was enough to stay off for a few days."

Y/N blinked slowly, surprised by the response, as if she hadn’t expected that to be the case at all.

"What are you?" She drawled, eyeing him like the answer was written on his skin. "A professional stalker?"

Matt rolled his eyes with a dry laugh.

"Baby, you have no idea." He said, with a crooked smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Come on, get in. I’ll take you back to that wasteland you call home."

"I’m not your responsibility." Y/N spat, voice firmer than she felt, ignoring the fact that he apparently knew where she lived. Her hands clenched around her arms, and she took half a step back, chin lifted.

"Hm." He mumbled flatly, without blinking, as if waiting for her to comply with his demand.

"Go away, Matt. I’m waiting for someone."

"Someone who pays less than I do?" He raised an eyebrow. "C'mon, baby doll. You’d rather have that than get in the car with me?"

She didn’t answer. Blood was rushing too fast up her throat.

"Go away." She repeated, turning her back to the car and walking away with firm steps, heels tapping rhythmically on the sidewalk as she returned to her spot.

She didn’t expect him to insist — or maybe she did, but didn’t want to admit it. She was only a few meters away when she heard the car door click open, and seconds later, his dragged, insolent voice filled the street.

"You’re really gonna pretend this didn’t happen, Y/N?"

"Fuck, no. Matt-" Chris’s voice followed right after, but was completely ignored.

Y/N stopped. Her eyes shut for a second, fists tightening. Matt followed with steady steps, and she heard his shoes hitting the pavement, getting closer. When she turned around, he was already too close, and she didn’t hide her startle. Her hands went to her hips, trying to hold a firm stance.

"Fuck you." Y/N spat, eyes narrowed with fury when Matt reached out to touch her arm. "Don’t touch me."

Matt didn’t like that. Y/N could see it in the way his jaw clenched. He stepped even closer, and sarcasm came naturally.

"The whore doesn’t like to be touched, huh? Ironic, don’t you think?" He mocked, lips curled in a twisted smile.

"Oh, fuck off." She snapped immediately, frowning, and shoved his chest with both hands. "And get out of my way. I have work to do, I don’t give a shit if you wanna hang around here with your nicotine addicted brother, but don’t fucking touch me. You’re wasting my time."

Matt laughed. A real laugh — rough, without threat. Just perverse amusement.

"Shit… you really are something."

He didn’t budge an inch from the shove. Instead, his crooked smile widened. His eyes dragged down her body provocatively. He pulled his wallet from his dark blue jacket and took out some folded bills with deliberate slowness – the sense of deja-vu engulfed Y/N’s mind for a second.

He extended them toward Y/N with indifference.

"Now I’m not wasting your time. Take it."

Y/N stared at the money for a couple seconds too long before snatching it and stuffing it in the back pocket of her skirt. Her chin lifted, defiant, and she walked past him. This time, when Matt followed side by side, she didn’t stop him.

"Can’t you just fuck another whore and leave me alone?" She asked, eyes fixed on the street ahead.

"Of course I can." Matt said, looking at her profile like he was studying a rare piece. "But I don’t want to. No other pussy that I’ve ever had seems as good-"

"I don’t need to hear about your orgies, thanks."

Chris spoke then, voice dragging with mockery.

"Bold words coming from a slut."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, glaring at Chris.

"Bold words coming from stalkers who buy sluts. Makes you more pathetic than me."

Chris smirked, eyes never leaving the dark street ahead.

"We pick whores because it’s easy. One time and done. They don’t run to the cops once they figure out who we are."

"Am I supposed to know who you are?" Y/N said, rolling her eyes, sarcasm thick in her voice, just as Matt grabbed her wrist firmly, pulling her into a sudden stop on the sidewalk.

She didn’t protest — he had paid for her time, after all — but Matt’s gaze was confused, eyebrows furrowed like he still didn’t understand something vital.

"You really didn’t notice?" Matt asked. "Even after seeing Nick?"

Y/N wrenched her wrist from Matt's grasp in one swift movement, taking half of a step away before huffing, digging her hands into her jacket pockets — and then into the tight pockets of her denim skirt — searching for a loose cigarette with trembling fingers.

"You mean that asshole politician?" She rolled her eyes. "Nope, didn’t notice."

Not finding any, Y/N stepped closer to Matt again, invading his space without hesitation, her fingers digging into his jacket pockets now. Matt didn’t resist — quite the opposite, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, clearly enjoying the moment. Y/N ignored the heat of his skin and kept searching.

"He’s not a politician." Matt murmured, voice gravelly against her ear. "Everyone knows that. The council, the mayor… They’re more corrupt than you think. Nick’s there to keep our business safe. He watches the government, makes sure they know who’s really in charge."

"We threaten them not to pass laws against what we do." Chris added impatiently, voice bored like he had been forced to be there — which he kinda had. "So don’t try anything clever, kitten. This city is ours."

Y/N tensed. She found the cigarettes, pulled the pack and lighter from Matt’s coat, and lit one with forced steady hands, despite her racing breath. Matt still held her waist, fingers digging in with a possessiveness that felt dangerous.

She should be terrified. And partly, she was — this wasn’t just a gang or pimps in disguise. It was the mafia.

They were everywhere, even in the government. They controlled everything.

And Y/N was there, inhaling nicotine like it was the most normal thing in the world, the heat of Matt’s gun pressing against her hip the only reminder of the danger.

"So… are you gonna fuck me or not? I’ve got work to do." She said, blowing smoke from her lips directly to Matt’s face.

Chris snapped his head toward her just as Matt raised his eyebrows, something like satisfaction in his eyes. Neither commented on the fact that Y/N had stolen the cigarette and pocketed the rest of the pack for herself.

Matt stepped even closer — if that was possible — and the height difference became more apparent. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her skirt like he had the night before and leaned in until his voice whispered like velvet near her ear.

"Now, why don’t we try this again, huh, sweetheart? Stop acting like an ungrateful bitch and let me take you home. I can even take care of those ugly bruises, make you even prettier for me."

The problem was… Y/N couldn’t.

She head of his type. Knew exactly why Matt wanted so badly to take her with him. And she knew herself — getting emotionally involved was a rule she swore never to break again. Sex was sex. People were just people. Words were just words. That made things easier.

Life was easier without attachment. No bonds. Sometimes, not even feelings. Empty felt safer.

But she tried anyway because something in Matt’s eyes felt like more than just a warning. A kind of quiet violence, like it was a limited-time negotiation. She reached up to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in thick brown hair, and pulled him down until their mouths met.

The kiss was slow and intense. A sharing of air, heat, built-up tension. Matt slid his hands down her back, fingers curling around her narrow waist. A rough sound escaped Y/N’s lips when his warm tongue crashed against hers, a low vibration that seemed to come from deep in her chest.

She let herself forget for one second who he was — and who she needed to keep being.

It was good. Too good. Y/N had forgotten how good kissing could be. Feeling someone that close. She tasted something sweet in Matt’s mouth, felt the roughness of stubble growing above his lip. Maybe there was no closer way to be with someone.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake…" Chris’s voice cut through the moment, full of sarcasm. He walked away with heavy steps. "Nick’s gonna love hearing you’ve completely lost it, Matty."

Y/N pulled away abruptly with the mention of the oldest, the wet snap of their kiss breaking between them. Matt didn’t let her go entirely — he held her against his chest firmly, eyes dark with desire, completely ignoring his brother.

"So… what do you want?" Y/N repeated, a teasing smile tugging at her lips as her hand slid down Matt’s chest. "Wanna fuck me? I know you do. Everyone does. If you want me to be just a whore, I can be that. But if you want to use me for something more than sex… that I can’t do. So make up your mind."

Matt didn’t seem to process her words well. His eyes glued to her face. He seemed lost.

A metallic slam echoed in the distance, followed by the sharp clack of hurried heels coming from the club near where Y/N had been standing before Matt arrived. They heard the sound, and Y/N discreetly glanced over Matt’s shoulder.

A small figure stumbled out of the busy place, followed by a cloud of smoke and loud music, tripping over her own feet, wide eyes scanning every inch of the street as if she were desperately searching for someone.

Y/N recognized that face. Even in the dark. Even with the weak glow of the streetlight. She froze, but only for a second.

Matt looked at Y/N, confused by her sudden distraction, but before he could turn around too, Y/N looked at him coldly.

"Your time’s up, handsome. You’ll have to fuck me another time." She snapped, already pulling away with purpose, her expression hardening back into an old mask.

She walked past Matt quickly, heading straight for the girl, who ran to her in return. Now, closer, Y/N could see her hands shaking violently under the dim light above.

"What happened?" Y/N asked, already opening the club door and disappearing inside with her.

Outside, Matt stood frozen, eyes locked on her silhouette vanishing into the red lights of the entrance.

That’s when a sleek black luxury car turned the corner and stopped in front of the club. The window rolled down quickly, revealing a sharply dressed middle-aged man in a tailored suit and meticulously styled hair. Still, his eyes were wide, and his face was stamped with pure offense.

"Hey!" He shouted to nothing, visibly angry. "You were supposed to be waiting for me, Angel! Ang- you fucking bitch."

Matt exhaled deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He began walking slowly toward his own car, where Chris stood, leaning on the passenger side with one arm draped over the hood, finishing a cigarette with a relaxed, bored posture. On the way, Matt passed the man’s car, turning toward him for half a second, eyes narrow like blades. When he spoke, his voice was low, but sharp, heavy with restrained threat.

"If I were you, I’d think twice before opening your mouth like that again. And if you value your life, don’t show your face here ever again."

The man swallowed hard, eyes widening slightly. He recognized that face. Maybe he didn’t know the name, but he knew danger when he saw it in those blue eyes.

Matt turned his back without waiting for a reply.

Chris let out one last puff of smoke before flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it underfoot, then got into the passenger seat.

"You know this isn’t gonna end well, right?" He said bluntly, his tone low and firm, glancing sideways at Matt. "That girl… she’s gonna fuck with your head, Matt. And Nick’s gonna want both of yours on a golden plate."

A muted thud echoed around them — the sound of Matt’s door closing.

Matt didn’t respond. Instead, he just turned the key in the ignition, eyes fixed on some point ahead. The tension in his jaw said more than any words could. The engine roared, and he drove off, leaving behind only the smell of gasoline and burnt tobacco.

#‹ 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐫 › : : : 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍!#sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fanfic

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vanteguccir · 1 day ago

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OMDB ☠ NO ONE LEAVES CLEAN ☠ TAGLIST

@courta13 @steph1106 @secretlifeofspace @cayleeuhithinknott @sturnslutz @obedientdoll77 @luvr4miya @bsham14 @csturniolo43 @mattflvwr @cherriesformatt @oopsiedaisydeer @bad268 @emilysuperswag @chrattn1fan @emely9274 @sturnzrisk @thebl2ckparade @lenus1aa @sturns-mermaid @superxcar @calzerm @mattspillowprincess @ribbonlovergirl @akalizzygrantxo @pineapplesicecream @imobsessedwithtaylorswift @luckydaisy0317 @franticroads @spaghettislut1 @wildmaelstromlegion @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee @nicki31hearts @lynniedrunkoncanadadry @bugs-tags @littlelacy @smileymilee @mattybsgroupie @stitchlover324 @simpingsym @xxxxxxlovesstuff @kitty-meow-meow44 @harmonib @crypticallycruelwarden @char112244 @sturniqlo @ellasturnio1o @freaky4pepsi @conspiracy-ash @yourfavsturniologirl