Product Placement
taylor price
tumblr dot com
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Noah Kahan
if i look back, i am lost
EXPECTATIONS
h
Jules of Nature
untitled
RMH
NASA
roma★
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
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Keni
ojovivo
Claire Keane
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
seen from Türkiye
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@adoremattsturns
𝓝𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑮𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵
𝑴𝑬𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑰𝑬… or melly/mila! billie eilish, sturniolos, sabrina carpenter, frank ocean, fall, madison beer, dance, bot maker, cabin 6, cherry cola, reading, pink lemonade, tumblr.
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✧ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✧ 𝐁𝐨𝐭𝐬 ✧ 𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬
© adoremattsturns est dec. 2024
please do not copy, steal, take ownership, or edit my work without permission. thank youu!!
MATT'S SMILEEEE HE'S SO BOYFRIEND :(((
This post is dedicated to my Matt girls - specifically @sturncoast 🙈
texts between ROOMMATE!READER and SPIDERMAN!MATT …
warnings: cursing, mention of a fleshlight
WOAHHH thank you sooooo much for 100!! i love you all and im so happy and grateful for the follows you guys are the best!! 🥹🫶🏼
hii guyss!!!
so im trying to figure out a new theme for my blog but im not sure which theme to choose: sturniolo fall OR bambi/deer typa aesthetic OR early Halloween theme (i miss Halloween + combo of fall n Halloween if that makes sense??)
better theme?
sturniolo fall
bambi/deer
halloween
for me to see (pls dont click)
if you have your own ideas for me too please comment them below all things help thank youu!!
taglist! @lezleeferguson-120 @sheluvsthesturniolos @courta13 @sturniszn @matts1989 @tezzzzzzzz @ellbowmacaroni
PART THREE: THE FAVOR
⋆˙⟡┊ ⤿ 🥂🔧 ⌗ ⌞ uptown! reader x downtown! matt ⌝
⤑ in which.. you graciously return something of his that he left at your estate
It’s been a few weeks, Not that you’re counting.
The fridge was fixed. The truck drove away. Your mother said it was “for the best”—as if your heartbeat wasn’t still playing tug-of-war with your ribs every time a low engine rumbled near the driveway.
No one mentioned him again. Not the staff, not your parents, not the neighborhood ladies who wore perfume like armor and spoke in hushed, judging tones. And yet, you kept catching yourself glancing out the window. Listening for the familiar growl of his engine. Wondering if he’d left anything behind.
You shouldn’t be thinking about him. But one late afternoon, while wandering the property, you remember the sunhat you left in the old garage during that dreadful family brunch.
It’s the kind of heat that glues silk to skin. Honeysuckle-sweet, thick, the sun hanging low and mean. You make your way to the far end of the property, heels clicking against the stone path as if trying to make your presence known. As if daring anyone to stop you.
The garage creaks when you open the door. It smells like dust and old wood, still and hot inside. Light filters through the slats, soft and gold. The sunhat sits on a hook near the door, forgotten.
And beside it, against the far wall—his toolbox. Not yours. Not anyone else’s. His. It’s unmistakable. The handle is worn in a way that says it’s been used. A few tools lie nearby like they were set down with the intent to return.
You pause. You could leave it. Let someone else deal with it. Call someone from the staff, pretend you never saw it. Pretend he never existed.
You don’t. You walk over, crouch carefully, and pick it up.
Downstairs, your mother is having tea on the terrace.
“Darling, where are you going with that dreadful thing?” she asks, eyeing the box like it might stain the marble.
You don’t answer right away.
“Returning it.” She sets her cup down, chin lifted in warning. “A woman like you doesn’t chase a man like him. You never, ever pursue a man who belongs in a garage. You are not a hobo off the street. You are a woman of class.”
You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not chasing.”
You leave before she can stop you.
Two hours later. You don’t know what possessed you. Maybe it was boredom. Maybe it was the scent of pine and gasoline still haunting your memory like a ghost.
But here you are. Downtown. In your car, parked outside a narrow brick building that smells like motor oil, metal, and faint cigarette smoke.
It’s louder here. A different kind of loud. Horns and bass and kids shouting from across the street. Graffiti snakes up the alley walls. Someone blasts music from a porch stereo. A dog barks nonstop.
And you don’t look away. You grab the toolbox from your passenger seat, heart pounding like a warning bell, and step onto the sidewalk.
The garage is open. Music buzzes low from inside—a gritty rock song that sounds like it’s lived through three decades and three divorces.
And he’s there. Matt. Bent over a motorcycle, back damp through his shirt, silver chain catching a flicker of light beneath the collar. Grease stains his arm. His curls are pushed back by a backwards cap. He wipes his hands on a rag without looking up.
You pause, heart stupid in your chest. Then he turns. His brows lift slightly. “Well, well.”
You hold up the toolbox. “You left this.”
“Did I?” he asks, slow grin tugging at his mouth. “Thought I might’ve.”
You step closer, trying not to flinch at the oil under your shoes. “I figured I’d return it.”
He nods, taking it from your hands. His fingers brush yours—brief, electric. “You didn’t have to come all this way, princess.”
You shrug. “I was bored.”
“You get bored in a palace like that?” You glance around the space. Tools, wires, a folding chair. The humming fridge in the corner.
“Sometimes,” you admit. He leans against the bench, towel slung over his shoulder. “You gonna hover, or you want a drink?”
Your lips twitch. “Do you always offer sparkling water to surprise guests?”
“Only the ones wearin’ designer heels in my shop.” You roll your eyes but sit. He pulls a Coke from the fridge—glass bottle, ice cold, no label.
You sip. He returns to the bike. It stretches between you, the silence. After a while, he breaks it. “You ever ride?”
You raise a brow. “Do I look like I ride?”
He grins. “You look like you haven’t had fun in a long time.”
Your stomach twists. He keeps working. Eventually, he speaks again. “You watching for fun? Or you tryin’ to learn something?”
You tilt your head. “Are those my only two options?”
He glances over his shoulder. “You haven’t looked at your phone once.”
You blink. You hadn’t noticed.
You set your drink down, watching him with a tilt of your head and a spark of amusement behind your lashes.
“I don’t think I’ve formally introduced myself,” you say, placing your hand lightly over your chest, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “How unprofessional of me. I’m Y/N. In case you were wondering.”
Matt turns slightly, smirking as he catches your eye. “Y/N, huh?”
You nod. He tosses the rag on the counter, wipes his palms on his jeans. “Well, hell. Guess I should clean up, now that I’ve got royalty in the room.”
You laugh. “Too late for that.” He grins.
“Good. I don’t clean up well anyway.” The moment stretches, just a little too long.
“Shouldn’t you get going, princess?” he asks. “I thought you’d be busy with country clubs… or whatever fancy thing it is you do.”
You raise your brow. “You think I golf in heels?”
He grins. “Wouldn’t put it past you.” You take another sip. Slowly. Then set it down.
“I’m not really in a rush.” His eyes meet yours again.
“You sure this is your crowd though? Grease. Noise. Boys with dirty hands—”
You cut him off. “Maybe I like the mess.” His smile is slow. Dangerous. “Yeah? Then maybe you should come back.”
Your throat goes dry. “I might,” He picks up the wrench again. You make it halfway to the door before he calls after you.
“Hey.” You pause.
“You looked good up there,” he nods toward the stool. “Sittin’ pretty in my garage like you belonged.”
You don’t answer, but your cheeks burn the whole drive home.
immaqulate's notes ✎ᝰ.ᐟ.. 🤭 i was literally so giddy writing this part THEY'RE SO CUTE
⇢ taglist ⇢ main masterlist ⇢ series masterlist
I’m the charlie brown to your snoopy in every universe
yesss ilyy 🥰🥰. im SO sorry for replying sosososo late omg 💔 it didn’t give me a notification but you are the best!!
reader finding inexperienced!matt’s books…
her body arched into his touch, the sound of her breathless moans filling the room as his hands slid lower, lower, until-
your jaw went slack, half scandalized, half... well, turned on.
you weren’t snooping. not really. matt had just gone downstairs for a drink, and the paperback sitting half-tucked under his pillow was practically begging to be picked up.
and the page that was folded in the corner, as if he’d wanted to make sure he could find this exact part again, wasn’t subtle.
“holy shit.” you whispered to yourself, staring at the worn cover like it had betrayed you.
your boyfriend, the same one who refuses to say even the medical terms for body parts, was apparently devouring pages of not-so-innocent scenes in his free time.
you knew deep down matt had a dirty side, and you couldn’t wait until he finally showed it to you.
though you can only imagine what that’s like. he’s too damn shy to initiate anything, but you bet he knows exactly what to do with those fingers..
by the time you heard his footsteps coming, the book was safely back under his pillow.
matt appeared in the doorway, holding his apple juice like he owned the world.
a slight smirk was on his face as he flopped back onto his bed, head hitting right against the book tucked under the pillow.
“oof- oh, right,” he mumbled, reaching behind him. “forgot to put this back on the shelf.” he tossed it aside like it was the most innocent book ever.
but the only thing going through your mind was:
damn. he’s so horny.
@gabssturniolo @h8aaz @l0s3rhaha @courta13 @ilovesturniolozz @sturns-mermaid @mf-divaaa-08 @sturniolo-szn2 @irlchrattlvrr @conspiracy-ash @sleepysturns @sturniolo04 @slivsturns @angelxsturns @gisouwhat @jellyfish-107 @sorrybirds @mrssturnioloo @sluttyspaghettisimp1 @anisturniolox @snoopysturnzz @dandoonsturns @kkenzie2706 @mattspillowprincess @leahsturniolozz @billiesbabyy444
˙✧˖° 𝐒𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐗𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 ˙✧˖°
༄˖° 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆:…. 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
⋆.*:･𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒:…. 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐢-𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐭
𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐲 @cursed-carmine !! ⋆.ೃ࿔
9 o’clock
the twins were currently asleep in their room and chris was no where to be found. his location? off. his phone? probably dead. he doesn’t answer your calls or texts. he said he’d be back by 7:30 from dealing.
chris was always like this. gone for hours just to appear late night reeking of weed or whatever he does just to leave the following evening. you were basically a single parent with the way he was never there, handling two children under four years old.
you were getting anxious on where he was. was he with another girl? was he hurt? did he crash his car? you couldn’t help but chew your fingers. as much as you were worried you were annoyed. if he always did this you should be used to it right?
10:10 pm
chris finally arrived home. you were reading on the couch when you heard the idiot fiddling with his keys at the front door.
he stumbled into the house with a smirk on his face and things in his hands. a bag, his keys, phone, and a wad of cash. “hey baby…” he cood, placing his stuff on the counter and walking up to your sitting form from behind.
he placed small kisses along your jaw and shoulder, carefully taking the book from your hands and closing it, putting it off to the side. “you miss me, mama?” you rolled your eyes “where have you been?”
“working. i made 200 t’night, i could buy you that pretty little dress you wanted…” he said in a low, slurred sing-song voice. “yeah. or maybe you could stay home with your children. worth waay more then some dress.” you scoffed.
“why you mad, ma? did i do sum wrong?” you looked up to glare at him. was he serious?? “you were hardly home all week leaving me to watch the kids AND work but you’re asking me whats wrong. are you serious?”
he could see the frustration on your face as he pondered how he would reply, his eyes red and glossy from smoking that staring at you like a fool. “talk to me when you have an answer, chris.” you grumbled, stoming up the stairs to your shared bedroom.
he followed you right up, opening the door to see you sitting at your vanity “ma?” “hm?” he though, “‘m sorry. i should tell you if ima be late coming home.” you turned to look at him “chris- its not that. its that your never here. the kids ask for their father and i have to tell them you’re busy when you’re who knows where!”
“sweetheart im working-” “working at 4:30? you said you’d never deal in the daylight so where exactly were you?” he didn’t know what to say. he couldn’t lie to you again, not after he saw how tired you were. “i already told you i was out dealing, ma. it gets darker faster so i left. it was just a few extras who asked last minute. you need to relax.”
“are you kidding me chris? you left me and the kids while we were asleep! they waited all day to see you when they woke up just to leave again?!” you were clearly upset, your voice elevated. you turned your chair back around, grumbling “you’re so stupid.” chris did not appreciate that, “say it with your chest since you wanna be a brat.”
heat rose to your cheeks unwillingly. you kept quiet, not wanting to satisfy him and his attitude. you got up and walked to your bathroom, getting ready for bed. he sat on the bed, taking off his shoes lost in thought.
just as you was beginning to brush your teeth he came in. chris walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and mumbling into your shoulder “‘m sorry okay? i just needed the money for you guys.” your frustration was somewhat gone but now it was more disappointment “you always say that.” you sighed, spitting into the sink and rinsing your mouth.
he turned your face towards him, “c’mon pretty lady, lemme make it up to you yeah?” he said as his hands fiddled with the hem of your pants.
a/n: hii! i think this is lowkey kinda cheeks but anyways. if this is good enough do you guys want a part twooo? lmk in the comments please. thank you and have a great day!!
taglist: @lezleeferguson-120 @sheluvsthesturniolos @courta13 @sturniszn
OH EXCUSE ME?????? THERE’S TEARS RUNNING DOWN MY THIGHS HE’S SO AIDIDISJDKFOCODOSK
valentine!reader bumps into physicsmajor!matt for a second time...
you burst through your apartment with a little more force than needed, letting your heavy bag slip off your shoulders the the floor with a thud. you can still feel the dried coffee on the front of your shirt, sticky and a bit stiff.
sage is on the floor of the living room of your shared apartment, hunched over in an unfortunate position with a paintbrush in her hand to get the perfect stroke.
she looks up from the canvas in front of you, gives you a once over before looking back down, “what happened to you?” she questions, almost teasing as she adjusts her grip on her paintbrush.
“i met the love of my life today,” you sigh dramatically, scrubbing an uneasy hand over your face “not before i spilled his fucking coffee all over him though.” you continue, throwing your head back with a groan.
she snorts softly, shaking her head, “how did you manage to do that?” she prompts again. she has a good idea, you’re the clumsiest, most unaware person she knows. she just wants the details.
“i don’t even know,” you admit, almost whining. “i was late to my creative writing class so i was rushing, but i swear i was watching where i was going!” you defend before sage can even have the opportunity to ask “i turned a corner and he was just there. out of nowhere. i didn’t even see his face before i slammed right into him, and then his coffee was everywhere and i tried to apologize as much as i could before he basically waved me off.”
“but he was cute?” she asks, looking up with a quirked brow to gauge your facial expression
“not even cute,” you huff, flopping onto the couch dramatically, “he was beautiful, sage. i’ve literally never seen a guy that perfect before. and if i ever see him again he’s gonna run the other way.”
she rolls her eyes fondly, unscrewing the cap to a tube of paint, “you’re too hard on yourself.” she teases, but there’s a note of truth in her voice. you see love in everything but somehow never see it for yourself.
you grumble some dismissal, chewing the inside of your cheek as your mind wanders back to the guy you bumped into. the sharp set of his jaw, how the color of his eyes would probably turn you to stone if you looked at him long enough. you think he had light stubble adorning his jaw but you aren’t sure if that was real or part of the blur in your vision from how fast you were moving.
you huff again, pushing yourself up off the couch and immediately moving to the kitchen.
“are you craving anything?” you ask sage, and she shrugs.
“not overly but-,” she looks up at the creak of one of the cupboards. you’re already grabbing flour and sugar, the measuring cups and a baking tin, “i’m assuming you’re making something regardless.”
sage is all too familiar with your tendency to bake when you’re stressed, and while it’s a blessing to always have treats in the apartment - she’s running out of suggestions for you.
you glare at her over the counter, pressing for a more definitive answer with your eyes.
she thinks for a moment, a knowing smile pulling at her lips “cinnamon buns?” she asks, too much hope in her voice for someone who just claimed they weren’t craving anything.
“knew you were gonna say that.” you grumble fondly.
not long after you pulled the cinnamon buns from the oven and engulged in one (maybe two), you’re in a fresh change of clothes, perched on an old rolling chair at your evening shift at the campus library.
it’s decent money for a student, and you really don’t have to do much. just check in peoples books and check them out. simple work, and considering you’re an english major you love to see what people come in to take. most times they’re for classes, sometimes they’re for personal use.
it’s a slower night, with it being the start of the year, people are trying to find out their booklists and what they actually need. you appreciate this job because in your downtime you’re able to work on your own schoolwork, tucked behind the counter until someone comes up to the desk.
you’re working on a stupid math question you can’t comprehend for some dumb mandatory class you have to take when a heavy book gets dropped on the counter in front of you, causing you to flinch.
it doesn’t cause you to flinch as hard as when you look up and it’s him. the love of your life - no. the guy you spilled coffee on earlier. yup. he got better looking in the last 7 hours.
you freeze, looking up at him like you’re literally starstruck. he regards you for a moment, and you think he doesn’t recognize you. he huffs when you just stare, begrudgingly pulling his wallet from his pocket to pull out his library card, sliding it across the counter.
“right-,” you sputter, picking up the card and the book before picking up the little handheld scanner. you firstly note his id card, burning ‘matthew sturniolo’ into the back of your eyelids forever. you scan it, moving to scan the book and notice that has some galaxy looking image on it and is simply titled ‘cosmos’.
you place a fresh, sticky label on the front of it and stamp it with the red ink that has the return date on it before sliding it back over the counter to him with his id placed on top. your mouth moves before you can stop it.
“i owe you a coffee,” you say softly, eyes widening at your own stupid voice before giving him a sheepish smile. he looks at you blankly for a moment, but you can now tell he recognizes you. he picks up the book and his id, shrugging lightly.
“told you it wasn’t a big deal.” he mumbles, swinging his backpack around his shoulder to push the book inside. you hate yourself for speaking, until he turns around to face you again.
“you’re doing that question wrong, by the way.” he says, nodding down to the notebook that displayed your thousand step math question “the x goes outside of the bracket.” he corrects, and you swear you see the faintest smile pull at the corner of his mouth before he’s pushing open the double doors and exiting the library entirely.
he recognized you. and did he just help you with homework? or was he condescendingly correcting you as some sort of power play? now you're praying sage has another baking suggestion when you get home.
───────────────────────────
authors note: ok this was really short and boring i know!!! i just need to get some of the plot out of the way and had to make them meet formally hehehehe. sage!reader and psychologymajor!chris up next yipppeee
©cinnamonsturns
ⁱⁿ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ exᵎᵎmatt sends your annoying boyfriend a video of him fucking you.
whimpers and the sounds of the bed creaking fill mats room. you know what your doing is wrong, you just came to get your things back and leave. but matt knows what to say to get to you, and he takes that to his advantage. hence why your legs are currently slung over his shoulders as his slow sloppy thrusts hit your spot over and over again. "tssk look at you mama such a mess" matt coos brushing his thumb over your bottom lip where you started drooling, all you could do was let out more choked babbles, to fucked out to form a sentence. this has been going on for a while now, matt fucking into you sloppy and heavy, putting his bodyweight into each thrust, but everytime that band in your stomach was about to snap matt pulled out. "oh i know baby i know im so mean huh" his voice laced with fake sympathy, but matt didn't feel bad at all. your fucked out expression, the way you claw at his arms looking for some support, he was enjoying all of this. matt grabbed your face as more incoherent babbles left your mouth "cmon sweetheart speak up f'me" he was messing with you. each thrust more forcefull as the words left his mouth. you were begging, barley audible but matt heard it. his girl was begging to let go. "y'wanna cum baby hm?' matt smirked at how eagerly you nodded your head, before grabbing your phone and hitting the record button, he wanted your boyfriend to see how he had you, to see that he will never make you feel as good as matt does. "go ahead baby cameras all on you" he coos panning the camera down to his hips snapping into you before moving it back to your face, capturing your eyes rolling back and your body shaking, that band in your stomach finally snapping, pornographic moans left your mouth."loook at that mama" matt whispers bittersweet, showing the camera your soaked cunt before stopping the video and quickly pressing send.
@overlygoin
i do not condone cheating.
just saw ai on pinterest... we are devolving at a rapid pace i fear.
thinking of an au/series:
actually making one:
Thank you to everyone who got me to 500 likes! This means a lot i love you guysss!! 🥹🫶🏼
