current taglist: (comment on my taglist post to be added) @ariastur9z @chr1sslvtt @chrissturniolodailysluts @chrisweetheart-blog @whore4mattsturniolo @sturns-mermaid @courta13 @iloveduckssm @chrisspussygang @tezzzzzzzz @irlchrattlvrr
⤷ in which . . . you and chris can’t stand each other, but when he catches you staring at him at a dior event, he’s not about to let you walk away without having a little chat (fuck) first . . .
⤷ warnings . . . toxic relationship, enemies, heavy sexual tension, explicit language, possessiveness, hate sex, jealousy, rough intimacy, emotional manipulation, on/off situationship, very slight angst . . .
ceyana’s note: just a little something for the freaks and the ones who think shaming is sexy. this isn't a series.
Your manager had warned you about this event weeks in advance. Normally, you loved brand events—especially anything tied to Dior. It was your scene. The lights, the music, the effortless glamour. And tonight had been no different. You were a drink or two in, laughing with a group of girls you genuinely adored, letting yourself relax into the night.
Then you saw him.
Chris.
Leaning lazily in the corner like he owned the room, surrounded by his brothers and some girl you didn’t recognize. She was beautiful—effortlessly so—and the way he looked at her made something sharp twist in your chest. His smile wasn’t fake. It wasn’t the careless smirk he wore around everyone else. It was real.
And you hated that you noticed.
God, he looked good. Stupidly good.
Fuck him.
You and Chris were… complicated. If that word even covered it. For a year, it had been a cycle of almosts and almost-nots. Back and forth. Never stable, and never defined. He claimed you were too bratty, and you said his ego was too high.
And when you finally got tired of pretending, when you actually put yourself out there and told him how you felt, he shut it down without hesitation. Said relationships weren’t his thing, and claimed he didn’t want anything serious, but casual was down for something casual.
That was where the fight started.
Weeks later, you found him drunk out of his mind, leaning on you like you were the only thing keeping him upright. That night, he’d said everything he swore he didn’t feel. Told you he loved you and not to leave. He pulled you into his arms and held you like you meant something.
And like an idiot, you stayed. You let yourself believe him. But then morning came, and just like that, he took it all back—brushed it off like it had never happened, like he hadn’t said those things.
Since then, whatever existed between you had turned into something colder. Every conversation edged with tension, every glance loaded with everything neither of you would admit out loud. Enemies. Or something close enough to it. And somehow, even that didn’t stop him from getting under your skin.
Every time you ended up in the same room, he’d find you. Like it was a game to him—pushing your buttons, saying just enough to get a reaction. And you always gave him one. Sharp words, biting remarks, anything to keep him at a distance. Anything to hide the fact that he still affected you more than he should.
Seeing him here, laughing, relaxed, and happy, made your jaw tighten. You hid it well, covering everything with attitude and indifference, but the hurt was still there. And there he was, acting like none of it had ever touched him.
Your eyes lingered on him longer than they should have. You knew that. You just couldn’t seem to look away.
Then, as if he felt it, his gaze flicked over—landing on you instantly. Of course it did. And then he smirked, as if he’d caught you. Your stomach dropped, irritation flaring hot under your skin as you immediately looked away, turning your head like you hadn’t just been staring. God, you hated that smirk.
Hated how easy it came to him. Hated how sure he always looked—like he knew exactly what he was doing, like he knew exactly how much he got to you.
And the worst part? He did.
He held your gaze for a second longer, enough to make it intentional, before casually sliding an arm around the girl’s waist. Like it was nothing. Like it was effortless. Like he wasn’t doing it just to get a reaction out of you.
Then he leaned down, murmuring something in her ear.
A sharp scoff slipped past your lips as you tipped your glass back, finishing the last of your drink in one go. The burn barely registered. “Fucking asshole,” you muttered under your breath, already pushing yourself up from your seat.
You just needed to get out of there.
Anywhere that wasn’t under his gaze.
You weaved through the crowd a little too quickly, heels clicking harder than necessary against the floor, your jaw tight as you made a beeline for the bathroom. The second the door shut behind you, the noise of the party dulled—and all that pent-up irritation came rushing to the surface.
“God, he’s so—” you cut yourself off with a frustrated exhale, dropping your clutch onto the counter a little harder than needed. You leaned toward the mirror, immediately reaching for your makeup, fixing what didn’t even need fixing. Doing anything to keep your mind from replaying it.
“Fucking jerk,” you drag your lip gloss across your lips with more force than necessary. “Thinks he’s so funny… so—so untouchable.” You paused, staring at your reflection. “…fucking bastard…” You muttered, gripping the edge of the counter harder. A bitter laugh slipped out. “fucking coward—”
The door creaked open behind you. You didn’t even turn around. “Occupied!” you snapped immediately, already irritated. Slowly, you lifted your gaze to the mirror.
Leaning casually against the door like he had all the time in the world was fucking Chris. One hand still on the handle, the other tucked into his pocket.
Your stomach dropped. His eyes met yours through the mirror, that same cocky smirk tugging at his lips—the one you hated more than anything.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he said smoothly, shutting the door behind him as he belonged there. Locking it. “I think you were just getting to the good part.”
“Get out.”
He didn’t move.
“C’mon,” he tilted his head slightly, eyes dragging over your face like he was studying every reaction. “You had a lot to say just now. Don’t get shy.”
“I’m not shy,” you snapped. “I just don’t waste my breath repeating myself to people who clearly don’t care.”
A chuckle left him, low and unimpressed. “Oh, I care,” he pushed off the door and took a slow step closer. “Trust me, I’m very interested in what you think of me, baby.”
God… you hated when he called you that.
Your eyes narrowed. “Well, you heard me, didn’t you?”
“All of it,” he said easily.
Your cheeks burned—not from embarrassment, but from pure frustration. The worst part? He didn’t look bothered. Not even a little. If anything, he looked entertained. Like this, like you, was fun for him.
“Good,” you snapped, lifting your chin slightly. “Then I don’t have to repeat how much of an asshole you are.”
“Still thinking about me that much, huh?” His gaze sharpened slightly at that, something flickering behind his eyes—but it was gone just as quickly, replaced with that same infuriating confidence. “Kinda flattering.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Chris.”
“Go on,” He stepped closer again, closing the space just enough to make your breath hitch. That stupid grin was playing on his lips. “Say something really mean this time. I know you want to.”
You inhaled sharply as he stepped closer, but before you could move, his hands found your waist. Your body tensed instantly.
“Chris—” you snapped, trying to shove his hands away, but he was already pulling you back against him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Relax, baby.”
“Get off me,” you pushed at his arms, but he didn’t budge. If anything, his grip tightened just slightly. Your breath hitched when you felt the weight of his chin settle against your shoulder. “Stop it.”
He just hummed softly, like he wasn’t taking you seriously at all.
“Thought you hated me?”
“I do, which is why you need to let go.” But instead of listening, he dipped his head slightly, his face brushing closer to your neck. You froze as his breath fanned over your skin, warm and slow. “Chris—don’t.”
But he ignored you as an almost amused exhale left him as he lingered there for a second too long, like he was taking his time, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.
His hand shifted slightly against your waist, fingertips grazing the exposed skin of your dress. Your pulse spiked, irritation and something far more dangerous tangling together in your chest.
“You were sitting there…” he murmured, his breath ghosting along your neck again, like he knew exactly how much it got to you. “All tense and quiet—watching me.” A mocking scoff left him. “You’re really bad at pretending you don’t care.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” you shot back, forcing your voice to stay steady as you twisted slightly in his hold, trying to create even an inch of space. “I wasn’t watching you. In fact, I couldn’t fucking care less about what you do or who you’re with.”
“Alright, baby.”
“I mean it,” you snapped, glaring at him over your shoulder. “You’re insane if you think I’m jealous of you, Chris.” His grip shifted as his fingers pressed a little more firmly against your waist, like he was grounding you there on purpose.
“Not jealous?” he echoed, voice low, teasing. “So the death stare from across the room was just… what? Your natural expression?” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “Your normal face is much prettier than that, come on.”
“That’s just how I look when I see something annoying,” you fired back immediately. “You should be used to it by now.”
“Funny,” He tilted his head slightly, eyes dragging over your face like he was picking apart every reaction, every crack in your composure. “Because you didn’t look annoyed. You looked…” he paused on purpose, letting it hang. “...Jealous.”
“And you’re delusional, Chris.”
He just hummed, unconvinced, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before flicking back up to your eyes—slow enough to make your breath catch, whether you wanted it to or not.
His hand slowly slipped from your waist, dragging down the length of your dress, bunching the fabric up. His fingers traced the fabric as they went, until they reached your thigh, lightly grazing the skin where your dress lifted just enough.
You should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve snapped at him, told him off, done anything to put distance between you. But you didn’t.
“Tell me to stop,” Chris watched your lips part, before closing. A quiet, almost amused breath left him, his hand stilling for a second before moving again, like he was savoring the way you didn’t pull away. “Yeah… that’s what I thought.”
“I hate you.” Your fingers tightened slightly against his arm, your composure cracking just enough to betray you, even as you tried to hold onto your anger. “A lot.”
He just smirked against your skin. “No, you don’t.”
You hate it. You hate how weak he makes you feel. Knowing how much power he has over you is annoying. You wish you could put an end to the part of you that still yearns for him.
“You say you hate me,” he taunts, as you close your eyes, trying to block out his words, but it's no use when his hands are massaging along your thighs. "But the moment I touch you… It doesn’t seem like it.”
“Let go…” You swallow thickly, your head and body focusing on different things. “Chris...”
He hums as his hands slide down to your ass, his teeth biting down on your shoulder as his hips grind into yours, allowing you to feel the hard bulge pushing against his jeans. A whimper leaves your lips as you wriggle under his hold.
“Really?” his hands slip underneath your skirt to cup his hands between your legs, and he gives you a mocking smile as his fingers press against the damp patch on your panties. “'Cause it doesn't feel like you want me to let go…”
You don't respond to that because you can’t explain wetness as he slowly pushes the layers of fabric to the side and slides two fingers deep inside your pussy, causing you to cry out at the intrusion.
“Look at that…” Chris purrs, pumping his fingers in and out of your spongy walls, curling his fingers and rubbing against the sweet spot with each stroke. He always knew what got you going. “All talk, aint ya’?”
When he adds a third, you let out a stifled sob as your hips buck against his hand and your sticky walls clench around his fingers, stretching you out. “Fuck—Chris!”
“Mhm… go on. Say my name,” Chris increases the pace of his fingers, hearing the sounds of your wet cunt squelching around him. You had gone too far to push him away now. All you can think about is chasing that release. “This is kinda pathetic, baby."
Suddenly, his hand disappeared, and before you could even process it, he was turning you around until you were facing the mirror. Your reflection stared back at you. Not as composed as you wanted to be.
And he was right behind you.
“Last chance,” he murmured, eyes flicking between your reflection and your expression. There was something almost amused in his tone. He can feel the way he rubbed up against you, purposely making you feel his hard length. “Tell me to stop… and I will.”
Your throat felt dry as you swallowed, your fingers curling slightly at your sides. You could feel him behind you, and it made your pulse spike in a way you absolutely hated.
Because it meant he still had this effect on you.
And he knew it.
“Why?” you shot back, eyes meeting his in the mirror, voice laced with that familiar attitude you hid behind. “You planning on actually listening if I tell you top?”
“Oh, come on, baby. You know damn well I’d fuckin' stop if you really wanted me to.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “But we both know we're here because you have a problem of telling me to stop, and then allowing your body to betray you,” You hear the sound as he unbuckles his belt, freeing his cock and fully removing his fingers from your cunt to bring his tip to your entrance. “which is why we are both here. Like always."
You held his gaze for a second longer, because everything he was saying was infuriatingly true, but your pride refused to back down. “Then maybe you should be the one backing off first.”
You hear Chris let out a scoff before he eases himself into your pussy, burying himself with one deep thrust. You let out a gasp. You never really got used to the size of him.
The obscene slap of skin on skin fills the room along with your breathless moans and Chris' heavy groans, he holding you in place while he takes what he wants. Your fingers are digging into the counter, holding on.
Your head jerked back with every rough thrust, each one sending a sharp jolt through your body. Your walls tightened around him, pulling him deeper with every movement. Then you felt it.
His teeth sank into your shoulder, biting down just hard enough to sting, to mark. He always did that. Always left something behind that would linger as a reminder etched into your skin, only fading in time for him to replace it the next time he had you like this.
“Bet no one gets you like this, huh?” His voice was low, rough with something sharper beneath it—something almost territorial. “Look at you… pushing up against me, struggling to adjust.”
“I’ve had bigger,” you shot back the snark remark, the words coming out quick and biting, even as your breath betrayed you. “You’re not that special.”
“Yeah?”
The next thrust he delivered was rough enough to knock you forward, your grip tightening on the edge in front of you as you caught yourself, a sharp yelp leaving your lips. That was clearly his form of a punishment.
“Keep lying,” he bite out, jealousy lacing his voice. He didn’t sound too playful anymore. “We both know no one gives it to you like this…”
You swallowed, forcing a scoff, even as your pulse raced. “Not a lie,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “You just think you’re better than you are.”
“Funny,” His hand tightened slightly, like your words actually hit something. A hint of more jealousy slipping through despite the smirk he tried to keep in place. “You don’t seem to be convincing me this while falling apart on this fuckin’ cock.”
“Fuck you—” Your jaw clenched. “This doesn’t mean anything.”
“Fuck you?” He chuckled darkly, delivering another deep thrust, before pulling her body and back flush against, hand grabbing her neck and whispering near her ear. “What would you call this then?”
You ground your teeth, meeting his gaze through clenched jaw. “I hate you,” you snapped, your voice sharp, trying to reclaim control. “Your—so, so fucking annoying—”
“Hate me?” He echoed, his smirk widening, infuriatingly cocky. Voice is teasing but heated. “Baby, you love me, or hate me?”
You opened your mouth, ready to retort, but you couldn’t between the feeling of him pounding behind you and his heated words. No matter how hard you tried to keep your composure, he had this way of making you falter.
“Exactly,” He whispered, just close enough that his confidence pressed against you. “You can try to hide it, but you’re mine whether you like it or hate it. Don’t think you’re slick, trying to look at me, through a fuckin’ crowd.”
“I was looking at Matt,” you shot back, trying to sound casual, even though your heart was hammering in your chest. You wanted him to react to his words. “He looked real good tonight i must say…”
“Don’t fucking’ bring up my brother,” His eyes darkened immediately, a low growl rumbling through him. “Not while I’m the one deep inside you.”
You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head slightly. “Sure… but you can’t stop me from thinking of him,” you teased, despite knowing how much it would rile him up. “Or wishing it was him right now…”
The effect was immediate. “Look at me,” His pace intensified before he grabbed your jaw and pulled your face close to his, making you look at him through the mirror, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You think you're funny, huh?”
You swallowed, heart racing. You knew damn well you’d never seen his brother like that. Matt was too sweet and gentle. Chris was rough and mean. Opposites.
“I want your eyes on me.” His grip tightened slightly, firm and demanding. that cocky edge you hated but couldn’t deny. “Look at me while I fuck you—”
Thrust.
Your eyes immediately roll back. You turned your face down, but his hand came up to grab your jaw, forcing you to look at him. His thumb pressed hard into your cheek. “Don’t fuckin’ look away, I want to see you fall apart.” He growls, unimpressed. “Tsk…bringing up my blood while i'm inside you—stupid girl…”
Your body struggled to adjust as the overpowering fullness caused your mind to go blank, causing tears to eventually form at the corners of your eyes. His lips brushed your ear as he leaned down.
“Fuckin’ say it,” he demanded, voice rough. “Say I’m the only one who can give it to you like this.”
A ragged sob tore from your throat as you attempted to shake your head, pride still flickering weakly. However, another strong thrust pushed into you, making the slick slap of skin loud as your walls spasmed around him.
“Chris—”
“No—” He growled, cock pressing hard against your sweet spot. You started to feel that familiar knot form tight in your stomach. “Say it first, baby. Tell me you need me.”
You knew he wasn’t going to give you exactly what you wanted if you didn’t, so breathless and frustrated, you open your mouth. “Gosh—It's you, Chris—” Finally, it slipped out, half-whimper, half-confession. “God—it's always been you…”
That was all he needed to hear. “Good girl…” His cocky smirk returned, sharp and devastating. “Now you gonna let me cum in your pussy?”
You nod desperately, and with one brutal thrust, you both cum, his semen mixing with yours, dripping down your leg and all over your underwear. You clutch onto his leather jacket, breathless and feeling every wave of pleasure that coursed through you.
Before you could even gather yourself, his hand came up, fingers curling firmly around your neck, not tight enough to hurt, but enough to control you. Enough to make your breath catch again.
“Chris—”
You didn’t get another word out. He spun you around sharply, your back hitting the counter as his other hand came up to steady you. And then he was on you—kissing you roughly, like he had something to prove.
It wasn’t soft. It never was with him. Though you often did imagine how good it would feel for him to handle you gently. Maybe just once.
But right now, your hands grabbed onto him, by this long tag like chain which was clearly something new for his brand, and you kissed him back just as fiercely, all that built-up anger and tension spilling into it.
He let it go on for a second, his hand slid up, tangling into your hair, gripping tight. You gasped against his mouth, the sudden pull making your head tilt back slightly—giving him full control. And then, just as quickly, he yanked you away.
A sharp pop echoed between you as the kiss broke. Your breathing was uneven, lips swollen, eyes still locked on his.
His grip loosened, fingers slipping from your hair as his other hand dropped from your dress. That same cocky, infuriating expression settled back onto his face as he took a small step back, tucking his dick back into his pants and adjusting himself.
“Fix yourself,” he said flatly, nodding toward the mirror. He glanced at your reflection, then back at you, a smirk tugging at his lips—sharp, warning. “Unless you want everyone out there to know exactly what you just let happen.”
Your jaw clenched, irritation flaring hot in your chest.
“So you’ll fuck me,” You suddenly asked, voice sharp, “but you’d never actually date me? Is that it? Is this all I am to you? Someone you can fuck and leave when it's convenient?”
Something shifted in his expression.
“Don’t twist it like that,” He almost let a hint of emotion show, his tone dropping, before a glare settled in. “You know it’s not that simple.” You scoffed, unconvinced. His jaw tightened before he stepped a little closer, voice quieter now, but heavier.
God, you wanted to hate him so bad, but you just couldn't.
“I might not do relationships, but don’t get it wrong… I’m not the type to just walk away from you either.” His gaze met you'res just before he left. “So tell me now, you want to continue this shit or nah?”
Your eyes stayed on him, your jaw still tight, but something in your expression softened. You let out a quiet sigh, like you were tired of fighting something that never really went away.
“…Do you wanna come over?” you muttered, almost like it annoyed you even to ask. “Later tonight.”
“Mhm,” There was a brief pause before that smirk came back like he’d been waiting for that all along. He glanced back at you before turning toward the door. that same cocky look in his eyes. “See you then, baby.”
And just like that, he was gone. Leaving you standing there, already knowing exactly how the night is going to end when he stumbles at your doorstep tonight.
18+ Blurb where horny-bsf!Matt just wants to put the tip in bsf!reader, even with his brother’s in the other room✮⋆˙
You couldn’t even confess how you’d gotten into that position— bottom half bare, leg slung over Matt’s hip, facing each other.
His cock running through your folds.
Your best friend.
You’d agreed to this—to only this—after Matt had kissed you hastily, almost drunkenly, confessing that he was worked up, that he needed something— anything.
He just wanted to glide his cock along your plump, slick folds. That’s all he wanted. Just enough for friction. Enough for some sort of relief.
But by the way he was looking down at how perfectly his cock slid against your wetness, you could tell it wasn’t enough for him.
His nexts words were proof enough.
“Please Y/n,” he panted out. “I just need— please just let me put the tip in. That’s all I need. I swear—swear it’ll be enough this time.”
You tightened your leg around his hip, pussy clenching around nothing. “Matt, Chris and Nick are home—“
“I don’t care, I don’t care— I’ll be quiet.” He cut you off as he circled his thick tip at your entrance, moaning. “They won’t even know.” He added in a raspy whisper.
This was wrong— beyond wrong. But as your eyes moved over Matt’s face, brows creased together, bottom lip tucked into his teethes hold, you knew you couldn’t say no.
You nodded softly. Once. “Okay.”
At your acceptance, he pushed inside—just the tip as promised—stretching your walls to accommodate for its size, making you moan lowly.
“Thank you,” he shuddered out, dropping his head to your shoulder. “Thank you.”
Hii!! First of all, I love your blog theme its so cute 🖤 What are your plans for the summer?
aww thank youuu!!!:)) and my plans are literally a hot girl summer. like going to the beach and tanning lmao. just a need. i just hope it’s a nice summer!!
sometimes i’m genuinely so embarrassed to be in this fandom because wtf do you mean some ‘fans’ turned up to the triplets house and doordashed them some ice cream??? and their BRAGGING about it. then had the audacity to edit messages between them saying that they were allowed round. absolute bullshit
and taking pictures of their house like COME ONNN. grow up a bit, if your going to be a real fan you don’t go and quite literally invade their personal life.
unfortunately..this genuinely needs to be said: if you are stalking the sturniolos, showing up at places they’ve been, or trying to figure out where they live, that is not normal fan behavior. it’s invasive, scary, and straight-up dangerous for both parties.
there comes a point where parasocial attachment can cross over into something obsessive or delusional—where someone convinces themselves they belong in that person’s life. in some cases, it may even resemble some sort of parasocial psychosis, which could be a serious disconnection from reality, where boundaries disappear and entitlement takes over.
the triplets are real people. they deserve privacy, safety, and peace just like anyone else. being a fan does not give you permission to violate those boundaries.
please respect them. stalking and doxxing—or even trying to—isn’t just crossing a line. it’s blowing past it in the most terrifying way possible.
do better. and if you see this kind of behavior, say something. protecting creators starts with their community.
