Chris Sturniolo - Blog Posts

in my head all my 70s au characters all go to a school called Brighton High School and they’re all seniors having the time of their lives before college with their different friend groups. Interacting every so often in classes for projects and school fights and bullying freshman together.

How they would dress in THE 70s

Slushy Noobz

hamzah..

jeans, bell bottoms, graphic tee, chunky belts, leather jacket, adidas, no color coordination, less effort, tucked shirts, plain

martin..

just nerdy, plaid, button ups, vests, stripes, belts, tucked shirts, skinnier bell bottoms, used to get dress by his mom majority of his childhood, white converse

mandy..

light colors, plaid, skirts skirts skirts, blue, yellows, pinks, browns, chunky shoes, headbands, floral print, girly girl, charm bracelets, cutesy

Sturniolos

chris..

tanks, big tees, bell bottoms, flares, baggy jeans, big belts, plain colors, rings, thrift, same pair of converse, open chest

matt..

basically chris just with more effort, flares, bell bottoms, stripes, plaid, scrunched up sleeves, jackets, wrist accessories, graphic tees, versatile, chunky belts

nick..

fashion icon, diva, necklaces, sweaters, layered collars, cleaner, more effort, doc martins, converse, jackets, v necks

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FROSTED FLAKES pt.2

In the summer of ‘76,, Matt meets a walking social disaster. In simpler terms.. a girl. I know. Matt Sturniolo and girls aren’t exactly a match made in heaven. But maybe this one is an exception?

Matt Sturniolo wasn’t a guy people noticed. He was the one on the edge of every conversation, hands shoved in his pockets, nodding along but never speaking. He existed in the background, the human equivalent of white noise, there, but never quite there. And he was okay with that.

But for some reason, ever since that day at the grocery store, he kept noticing her.

At first, it was just a passing thought. A flash of curls and big brown eyes somewhere in the back of his mind. Then, it was something worse, a weird, nagging feeling, like he was waiting for something. Like maybe he’d run into her again.

Except summer stretched long and hazy, and she didn’t show up anywhere. Not at the record store when he went with Nick. Not at Nate’s house, where the air was thick with the scent of weed and cheap cologne. Not even at the parties Chris dragged him to, where everyone blended together into a blur of voices and smoke and music that wasn’t as good as people thought it was.

So, he forgot. Mostly.

But then school started.

And there she was.

At first, it was just a glimpse in the hallway, like a trick of the light. Then he saw her again, on the front steps, in the cafeteria, at the lockers, in the exact wrong places at the wrong times. And every time, it was like some cosmic joke, like fate was dangling something just out of reach.

He didn’t approach her, of course. Matt Sturniolo did not approach girls.

Chris would. Chris could walk up to any girl, any time, and just talk. Didn’t matter who, didn’t matter where, he had a way of slipping into conversations like he belonged there.

Matt? He was lucky if he could get a sentence out without sounding like an idiot.

So he didn’t talk to her. He just… saw her. More than he should’ve.

It was starting to feel like some kind of setup.

Then came the next morning.

Chris had to go in early for tutoring, something about making up for skipping too many classes last year, so Matt got dragged along for the ride. The school was barely awake yet, the halls stretching empty and hollow.

With nothing else to do, he went to the cafeteria, figuring he’d sit there until people started showing up.

And that’s when he saw her.

She was standing in the breakfast line, her hair a little wilder than usual. She grabbed a little plastic bowl of Frosted Flakes and a carton of milk, shaking the box like she was testing how much was inside.

Matt didn’t mean to stare.

But she must’ve felt it, because right then, she looked up, straight at him.

And smiled.

It wasn’t just a polite smile, either. It was real, bright, warm, like she knew something he didn’t.

Then, before he could even think about looking away, she turned and walked right toward him.

Matt swallowed hard, his hands instinctively tucking into his hoodie pockets as she dropped into the seat across from him, setting her tray down with a little clack.

Matt stiffened, pulse kicking up, every instinct screaming at him to look away, act normal, pretend you weren’t staring like a freak.

“Hey,” she said casually, ripping the plastic lid off her cereal. “You always sit here?”

Matt blinked. He hadn’t expected her to actually talk to him.

He hesitated, then shook his head. “No. My brother had tutoring.”

She tilted her head. “Huh. Didn’t know they did tutoring this early.” Then she scooped up some cereal, chewing thoughtfully before glancing at him again. “You got a name, or should I just call you ‘guy who stares at me from across the room’?”

Matt felt heat creep up his neck. Great. She noticed.

“Sturniolo,” he muttered.

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s a mouthful.”

“Matt,” he amended.

She nodded approvingly. “Better.” Then, after a beat, she slid the bowl of cereal toward him. “Hold this for a sec? Gotta grab a napkin.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving him sitting there, staring down at a bowl of soggy Frosted Flakes.

Matt exhaled, running a hand down his face.

This girl was gonna be a problem.

Matt sat stiffly, staring down at the bowl of Frosted Flakes like it was some kind of test. The milk was already turning sugary and pale, the cereal floating lazily on top. He didn’t dare touch it.

Across the cafeteria, she was rifling through the napkin dispenser, curls bouncing with every movement. Like she wasn’t even thinking about the fact that she’d just sat down with him. Like this wasn’t weird at all.

Matt felt his throat tighten.

She didn’t even know who he was. She probably sat down because he looked alone, and people like her had a way of making things less awkward for the ones who didn’t fit in. It didn’t mean anything.

So why was he sitting here like his entire morning had just been thrown off course?

Before he could think too much about it, she was back, napkin in hand, sliding into her seat like she belonged there. She pulled the cereal back in front of her, barely sparing him a glance before she dug in again.

“Thanks, Matt.”

His stomach did something weird at the way she said his name. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Like they’d always been friends.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

She grinned mid-bite, like she could hear the awkwardness in his voice.

“So, do you, like, not eat breakfast, or do you just enjoy staring at people while they eat?”

Matt frowned, crossing his arms. “I don’t stare.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Mmm.”

“I don’t,” he insisted, but it came out weak, because, well… maybe he had been looking at her more than he should’ve.

She didn’t push it, just smirked like she knew something he didn’t. “Alright, not-staring-Matt, what’s your deal?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Like, what’s your thing?” she said, waving her spoon. “Everyone’s got something. You a football guy? A stoner? One of those weird band kids?”

Matt hesitated. He could’ve told her about movies, about the hours he spent watching and rewatching old foreign films no one else cared about. About the way music sounded different on vinyl, how he had a whole crate of records stacked in his room. But all of that felt… too personal.

So he just shrugged. “Dunno.”

She sighed dramatically. “God, you’re so cryptic.”

“I’m not cryptic,” he muttered.

“You totally are,” she said, shaking her head. “I bet you’re, like, the brooding type. Probably lean against lockers all mysterious, making girls wonder what your deal is.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Yeah. That’s me. Real mysterious.”

She laughed, and Matt didn’t realize how much he liked the sound of it until it was already out there, loud and full and unfiltered.

For a second, they just sat there, her eating, him sitting there, unsure of why he wasn’t getting up, why he wasn’t saying something stupid to ruin the moment.

Then—

“Hey, there you are.”

Matt’s shoulders tensed as he heard Chris’s voice.

He turned to see his brother strolling toward the table, looking like he owned the place, because Chris always looked like that. His grayish-purple shirt was half unbuttoned, his dark hair tousled in that effortless way that made girls trip over themselves.

And, of course, he noticed her immediately.

Chris slid into the seat next to Matt, grinning lazily at her. “Hey. Who’s your friend?”

Matt opened his mouth to say I don’t know, but before he could, she answered for him.

“Sage.” She stuck out a hand. “And you must be the brother?”

Chris took her hand like he was some kind of movie star, shooting her the most flirty smile, which Matt knew all too well. “of course.”

Matt groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

He could already tell, this was about to get so much worse.

@issysh3ll

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Once I figure out how to color the words like that oooo it’s over for yall

@st7rnioioss

skating in CIRCLES

chris sturniolo and reader

summary.. Even when he’s about to bust his ass, all he can think about is holding your hand.

The night hums with laughter and the low whir of wheels against polished wood, neon lights flickering against the glossy rink floor. You’re still holding Chris’ hand when he groans, trying to pull you back toward the booths.

“Baby, I swear—” His voice is taut with frustration, but you just smile, dragging him forward.

“Just one more time,” you plead, eyes bright, tugging him onto the rink again.

He stumbles the second he lets go of the railing, his grip on you tightening. He’s stiff, unsteady, but you keep him upright, your fingers warm against his.

Nate and his girl sweep past effortlessly, barely even pushing off the ground. “Dude, just use the walker,” Nate calls over his shoulder, grinning.

Chris shoots him a look, jaw locking. “Yeah, that’s never happening.”

The truth is, he knows it would help. Knows he’d stop making a fool of himself, stop tripping over his own damn feet. But the walker doesn’t have your hand in his, doesn’t give him the excuse to keep reaching for you every time he wobbles.

So he keeps stumbling. And you keep laughing, and he keeps pretending like this isn’t the best part of his night.

After what feels like hours of this, of almost-falling, of grabbing at your waist to keep from wiping out, of you tugging him forward when he’s barely caught his breath, he finally digs his heels in.

“Alright, alright, I’m done.” He pulls you off the rink before you can argue, collapsing into one of the booths. His fingers are still curled around yours, but he’s catching his breath now, his head tipped back against the seat.

“Quitter,” you tease.

Chris huffs, but his smirk is easy, blue eyes flicking to yours. “Survivalist.”

He disappears to the concession stand before you can respond, coming back with a tray, fries, a Coke, and that soft pretzel you eyed earlier but never mentioned. He sets it in front of you without a word, then slides into the seat beside you, his thigh pressed lightly against yours.

“Bribery?” you ask, plucking a fry from the tray.

“Strategy,” he corrects, stealing one for himself.

The night hums on around you, pop songs blaring through cheap speakers, couples spinning on the rink, Nate and his girl wrapped up in their own world, but here, in this moment, it’s just the two of you.

Your gaze drifts to the photo booth pictures you took earlier, the strip of images sitting between you on the table. The first one is normal, both of you grinning at the camera. The second, you’re laughing, and Chris is looking at you instead of the lens. The third, he doesn’t know what the hell happened there, but it makes you smile, so he doesn’t question it.

He watches as you run your fingers over the glossy paper, your lips quirking. He leans in slightly, voice low.

“So,” he murmurs, nudging your knee with his. “How much do I gotta pay you to let me keep this one?”

@issysh3ll

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TAGLIST .ᐟ

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THIS is what I see when I say 70s douchebag Chris.

the DRIVE IN

chris and babydoll reader

summary.. After a group movie night, Chris drives you home and doesn’t know how to act.

The night air was warm, thick with the faint smell of popcorn and exhaust from the drive-in. Chris had parked a little away from the crowd when you all arrived, his old car a quiet escape from the chaos of your friends, who somehow always seemed louder in public. The movie had been alright, not that Chris had been paying much attention. His eyes kept drifting, almost like they had a mind of their own, to you.

You had leaned back against the car seat, your hair perfectly framing your face, the glow of the giant screen painting your skin in shifting light. You didn’t say much during the film, just a few clever quips about the plot and one or two sarcastic remarks that had him smirking. But when you laughed, soft and sudden, it was like something had shifted in the air, and Chris felt it in his chest, sharp and undeniable.

Now, the car hummed quietly as he drove you home, his fingers drumming an uneven rhythm on the steering wheel. You sat beside him, turned just enough to let the warm breeze from the open window brush your face. Your scent lingered in the small space between you, light and familiar, something he never wanted to forget.

“Didn’t think you’d enjoy the movie,” he said, breaking the silence in a way that felt more casual than it actually was. His eyes flicked toward you, hoping to catch something, anything, in your expression.

You tilted your head, lips pulling into a half-smile. “It was fine. Could’ve done without all the explosions, though.”

“Explosions are the best part,” he shot back, grinning like he was trying to win you over.

“Yeah, for someone with no taste,” you teased, your tone light but sharp enough to shut him down in that effortless way you always seemed to have.

He laughed, shaking his head. “You really don’t let me have anything, do you?”

You shrugged, your eyes still on the window. “You don’t need me to.”

Chris bit the inside of his cheek, his grin softening into something quieter. You always had this way of cutting through all the nonsense, leaving him feeling completely seen. It wasn’t a bad thing, but it wasn’t something he was used to either.

The drive stretched on, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows over your face. He kept stealing glances, noticing how your fingers absentmindedly played with the edge of your sleeve or how your lips pressed together, like you were lost in thought.

Then there was a moment, a small one, but enough, when you turned your head, and your eyes caught his. He froze, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. For a second, neither of you looked away, the air between you thick with something unspoken.

But just as quickly as it happened, you looked away, turning your head back toward the window.

“You’re so quiet tonight,” he said, his voice a little lower, the words almost catching in his throat.

You hummed softly in response, shifting in your seat. “Just tired, I guess.”

He wanted to say something else, something that felt as big as the way he felt when you were near him, but all he could do was reach for the radio, settling on a low, mellow tune to fill the space.

The ride to your house felt too short for him but probably just right for you. He pulled up to the curb and turned off the engine, the sudden quiet making his pulse feel louder in his ears. You unbuckled your seatbelt but didn’t make a move to get out just yet.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, your voice soft as you turned to look at him. Your eyes lingered on his face, and for a moment, Chris felt completely unraveled.

“Yeah,” he said, his hand brushing the back of his neck. “Ofc. You don’t even gotta ask.”

You leaned toward him then, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. His heart was pounding so loud he was sure you could hear it. He thought, hoped, you might kiss him, but instead, your lips pressed gently to his cheek.

The kiss was soft, lingering in a way that left him breathless. When you pulled back, your face was so close to his, and the smile you gave him was warm and just a little mischievous.

“Goodnight, Chris,” you whispered, your voice quiet but carrying a weight he couldn’t quite understand.

And before he could say or do anything, you opened the door and stepped out, your hair bouncing as you walked toward your front porch. Chris sat there for a long moment, one hand on the wheel, the other brushing against the spot on his cheek where your lips had been.

He watched you until the door closed behind you, then let out a long, shaky breath. “fuck,” he muttered under his breath, somewhat disappointed.

@issysh3ll

I’m not in LOVE

chris and babydoll reader

“it’s just a silly phase I’m going through”

Chris likes to think he’s immune to love, that it’s something for other people, not him. He’s the guy who coasts through life, carefree and untouchable, too busy being the center of attention to bother with anything as serious as feelings. At least, that’s what he tells himself whenever she’s around.

She’s just a friend—he repeats it like a mantra. The girl who sits shotgun in Eclipse, singing along to her disco tapes while he pretends he’s annoyed, though he never skips the track. The one who calls him out when his ego gets too big but does it with a laugh that makes it impossible for him to get mad. She’s the grounding force he never asked for, the one person who doesn’t fall for his charm but somehow makes him want to be charming anyway.

He doesn’t take what he feels for her seriously. He can’t. If he starts calling it love—if he starts admitting that maybe she’s more than just a cool girl who’s fun to have around—then he’s tied down. And Chris doesn’t do tied down. Not yet. Not when he’s got a reputation to keep up and a world to conquer. So he brushes it off, tells himself it’s just a passing thing, a silly crush that’ll fade.

But it doesn’t. It lingers in the way his eyes follow her when she’s laughing at something he didn’t even say. It’s in the way he drives her home slower than necessary, taking the long way just to keep her in the car a little longer. It’s in the way he notices the small things about her—how her curls shine when the sun hits them, how her New York accent slips out when she’s really excited, how her smile feels like it’s changing the air around them.

Chris won’t admit it, not even to himself, but she’s gotten under his skin in a way no one else ever has. She makes his world feel different, brighter, more real. But instead of leaning into it, he hides behind his usual bravado, throwing out half-baked jokes and acting like she doesn’t matter as much as she does.

Maybe one day he’ll figure it out—that what he feels isn’t just some fleeting crush. It’s not something he can brush off or laugh away. It’s real, and it’s hers. But for now, he’s stuck somewhere in between, holding on to his careless image while quietly letting her become his favorite part of everything.

For now, he tells himself he’s fine with the way things are. No labels, no big confessions, just the two of them driving around with her disco tapes and his bad jokes. But there’s a part of him that wonders, late at night when he’s alone, if maybe one day he’ll be brave enough to let her see how much she really matters. How much she’s already changed him.

@issysh3ll

introducing 70s BABYDOLL READER paired with 70s chris

“That summer of 1976, when everybody called me baby and it didn’t occur to me to mind”

Her voice is smooth, with a soft New York accent that peeks through in her vowels, giving her words a rhythm all their own. It’s the kind of voice you could listen to for hours, whether she’s humming along to a Bee Gees tune or passionately defending her love for disco. While everyone else seems to roll their eyes at her playlist, she just laughs and turns the volume up, unapologetically dancing to the beat of her own world.

She’s always got a little gloss on her lips and a smirk in her eyes, like she knows something you don’t. There’s a warmth to her presence, a softness that makes people want to be better just to deserve her attention. She doesn’t demand it, though—she’s not the kind of girl who needs to shout to be heard. Her laugh is soft but unforgettable, the kind that sticks in your head long after she’s gone, like a melody you can’t quite place.

She has a passion for little joys—collecting vinyl records, baking cookies she insists aren’t perfect, but everyone eats anyway, and reading paperbacks with broken spines. She loves the smell of old books and the sound of rain against her window, and she swears there’s no better feeling than stepping onto a dance floor under shimmering disco lights. She’s not a loud person, but there’s something magnetic about her—a quiet kind of confidence that makes her impossible to ignore.

She’s gentle but firm, the kind of person who listens without judgment but doesn’t hesitate to call you out when you’re being ridiculous. She believes in authenticity, in living life fully, even if that means sticking out a little more than she intended. And when she looks at you, it feels like she’s seeing right through every facade, straight into the core of who you are—and liking what she finds.

@issysh3ll

introducing..

໑ 70s DOUCHEBAG CHRIS

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who is the self-appointed king of his high school. He revels in tormenting underclassmen, making them run errands or embarrass themselves for his amusement.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who never misses an opportunity to mention he’s a senior, even in completely unrelated conversations.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who drives a 1971 Chevy Chevelle he’s named “Eclipse,” which he constantly brags about but treats terribly.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who always the loudest guy at every party, either hogging the aux cord to play Dark Side of the Moon or challenging someone to a keg stand.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who flirts shamelessly, leaning into his “asshole” image. He’ll toss out lines like, “Why are you with that guy when you could have someone like me?”

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who’s success rate is higher than it should be, much to the frustration of his peers.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who will say things like, “You know, time is just a construct, man,” while ignoring that he’s failing history class.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who has an “intellectual” side where he quotes Pink Floyd lyrics as if they’re his original thoughts.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who keeps a beat-up notebook hidden in his car where he scrawls angsty poems inspired by Wish You Were Here. He’d never admit it, but they’re mostly about a girl who rejected him sophomore year.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who despite his bravado, Chris is secretly dreading leaving high school. The real world scares him, and he has no idea what he wants to do.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who knows every lyric from The Wall and will fight anyone who says it’s overrated. He once got detention for arguing with a teacher who claimed Led Zeppelin was better.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who has lost more money than he’d care to admit betting on street races or card games. His friends joke that he has “negative luck.”

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who never admit it, Chris has a few Bee Gees records tucked behind his Pink Floyd collection. He sometimes dances to Stayin’ Alive when he’s alone in his room.

DOUCHEBAG CHRIS.. who whether it’s for pizza, gas, or concert tickets, Chris is notorious for saying, “I’ll get you back,” and then never following through.

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@lovelymylene <3

I am Amira, the breadwinner for my family after my father's death. We were forced to flee to the southern part of Gaza after the war intensified. Our home, my university, and my workplace were bombed😢.

We are now in desperate need to escape this danger and continue my dream and educational and professional journey💔. I kindly ask you to donate or share the campaign link. Your support can save our lives and give us a chance to live in peace🍉.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart🙏.

sharing !

theres a big difference between “sorry, i have a girlfriend.” and “no, i have a girlfriend.”

”now im down bad crying at the gym” I LOVE MOTHER 😭😭😭

”i can fix him, no really i can” SHES SO ME 😭

listening to ttpd rn if i dont update its because taylor made me sob 😭🤍

istg men be so mad about women looking different without makeup, like you look HELLA DIFFERENT soft so stfu ☠️

my man my man my man 😻 (he doesn’t know i exist)

new smut fic released yallll… 👀

Bad Day || M.S. x reader

a/n: ofccc bby !! i luv this ideaaaa !!

warnings: SMUT!, oral (m! receiving), deepthroating, gagging

i aint your ma so i cant tell u what u can and cant read soooo….

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

i woke up after a restless night, pulling my comforter off of my body, i stood up out of bed and walked over to the mirror. i looked terrible…

i sighed and went downstairs to make breakfast for myself as matt wasn’t home this morning.

i pulled a pan and ingredients out of my cabinets and began making pancakes, pouring the batter into the pan and flipping every so often. i realized i had to go to the bathroom. i walked to the bathroom and handled my business, then heard the smoke alarm going off.

great, just great!

I threw the burnt pancakes away and went back upstairs to get ready for work. i peeled my clothes off before stepping into the shower. i reached for my favorite shampoo then saw i was out. i sighed and finished my shower quickly as i was already running late.

i got dressed and went to work. my boss was nagging on me to finish my rough drafts, but i zoned out, all i heard was “blah blah blah”

my alarm went off, signaling it was time to clock out, and i rushed home to matt waiting for me. he immediately sensed i was upset and tried to get me to talk about it. i refused but ended up just spilling about everything that happened.

“im so sorry, ma, i wish i could make things better for you. trust me, if i could take that burden off your shoulders i would.” he spoke while rubbing my back and tracing shapes on it.

“you’re to good to me baby. i dont know where i would be without you.” i smiled.

“you know… i can think of a way to repay you.” i smirked while kneeling down to his waist level.

“is this okay?” i asked. he nodded fastly. i teasingly tugged at the zipper to his jeans, unbuttoning them slowly. i palmed him through his boxers before pulling his dick out, it sprang up to his happy trail before i took it in my hand.

i kitten-licked at his tip while jerking him slowly, moving my hand up and down. i then took him fully into my mouth

his veiny hands tangled into my hair, tugging lightly. i moaned at the tingling feeling, sending vibrations up his dick. he groaned loudly, pulling even harder at my hair. with that, i took him further into my mouth, deepthroating him, but he was so big, i couldnt help but gag.

the sensation of my throat clenching around him sent him groaning and whimpering above me. “fuckkk, pretty girl, im gonna cum!” he shouted before hot ropes of cum shot onto my tongue, down my throat,

i pulled off of him with a pop. sticking my tongue out, showing him his cum on my tongue, looking up at him with doe eyes.

“so pretty, did so good for me.” he said while closing my mouth, signaling to swallow.

he pulled me up from off my knees, giving me a kiss, before taking me to the couch. he pulled me into his arms as he turned on my favorite show. “i love you matt” i spoke softly

“i love you too, baby” he responded.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: lowk dk abt this buttt… anywaysss ! i luv yalll and tysm anon for the idea ! <3

a/n pt 2 : sooo… no head..?

matt comfort to smut soon … 👀

iykyk…

IM GOING INSANE CHE CAZZO

My hands are down my fucking pants

DID YALL SEE THE NEW VIDEO ?

the new intro doesn’t feel right idk how to explain it 🤧

ik i have like 4 asks in my inbox rn but i wanna write sturniolo triplets stuff rn and none of them are 😭😭

(requests are welcome((PLEASE SEND REQUESTS))

You have that one photo with Matt?

Im just courios

yea it was dm’d to me but i dont wanna spread the deepfake around, i feel like its invading privacy and stuff so i wont be posting it or dming people it sorry

PUHLEASE !! SOMEONE ! GIVE ME FANFIC IDEAS ISTG 🤧

idec what it is likeee

idc if its sturniolo triplets , idc if its evan peters, idc if its jack champion, LITERALLY LIKE ANYTHING

i wish i could get him pregnant☹️☹️☹️

Asking everyone to report this weird bitch on wattpad who is stealing my work and pretending to be me! She’s stealing from a black creator/writer and also switched black!reader to white!reader.

This is upsetting and annoying.

@bernardsbendystraws @colorthecosmos444 @thenickgirl @mattslolita @leoslaboratory

@whore4mattsturniolo @sosasturns @snoopychris @nickssidewitch @lunasbongrip

@sturnioz-main @submattsgf @submattenthusiast @mattybsgroupie @sturnioz

PLZ TAG OTHER PPL!!

rest in peace to these nails💔💔💔

do you guys like my nails

has anyone else seen this i’m dying laughing bcs is she dead ass😭 why is this girl crying