A̴l̴v̴a̴'̴s̴ ̴f̴a̴n̴f̴i̴c̴s̴?̴

Heyy gorgeous, 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈! ˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝖎𝖒 𝖆𝖑𝖛𝖆! fanfic writer sturniolo triplets fanfics requests: open

[alvaasturnxx]

𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑫𝑼𝑪𝑰𝑵𝑮 ::: @𝙖𝙡𝙫𝙖𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙭𝙭

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ 𝒂𝒍𝒗𝒂 ,, 𝒔𝒉𝒆/𝒉𝒆𝒓 ,, 𝒘𝒍𝒘 - 𝒘𝒍𝒎 ,, 𝑱𝒂𝒏 30 ,, 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 ,, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒅 𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒊 ,, 𝒑𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒊 ,, 𝒐𝒃𝒗 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 ,, 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒔 ,, 𝒂𝒒𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒖𝒔

𝘿𝙈'𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙣 𐃘 𝙞 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠?!

( 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙨!! ˙⋆✮)

btwww, ask if u wanna be tagged?!

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[alvaasturnxx]

✧ Cadillacs ✧

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: strong romantic tension, suggestive dialogue, flirting, jealousy, insecurity, possessive behavior, viral tiktok, misunderstanding, language

summary: after posting a viral tiktok lip-syncing to Cadillacs, y/n accidentally sends chris into a spiral. Convinced the video means she hates everything a Cadillac represents, including his beloved car he spends days overthinking until he finally confronts her. What starts as an awkward conversation quickly turns into something much more intense when chris realizes he's completely misunderstood her.

word count: approximately 1.3 words

----------------------------

The video had been up for exactly forty eight hours, and Y/N’s phone was vibrating so hard it was practically dancing off her nightstand.

She scrolled through the comments, a small, mischievous smirk playing on her lips. The TikTok was simple: her, in tight black camisole top that hugged every curve of her waist and emphasized her hips, lip syncing to Ayeska’s Cadillacs. She had played it cool eyes heavy, a little bit of attitude in her movements, letting the lyrics about hating the luxury, the status, and the "Cadillacs" roll off her tongue with a sultry, mocking grace.

“I don’t fuck in Cadillac…”

She hadn’t realized that the song would go viral. She hadn’t realized that it would reach him.

Across town, Chris sat in his living room, staring at his phone screen with a look of pure, unadulterated devastation. He watched the video for the tenth time. He watched the way her dark hair fell over her shoulders, the way her small waist seemed to disappear into the curve of her hips, and most of all, he heard the lyrics.

She hates them.

He looked out his window at his pride and joy parked in the driveway: a pristine, midnight black Cadillac. To him, it was a symbol of success, of stability, of the man he wanted to be for her. To Y/N, apparently, it was a symbol of everything she didn't want.

The insecurity hit him like a freight train. He was in love with her deeply, painfully in love and all he could think was that he was too much, or perhaps, that his lifestyle was a turn off. He felt like he was presenting her with a gift she had just publicly insulted.

The next time they met up at their usual coffee spot, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Y/N, looking breathtaking in a sundress that clung to her thighs, noticed the way Chris wouldn't quite meet her eyes. He was quiet, his usual playful energy replaced by a brooding, somber mood.

"Chris? You okay?" she asked, reaching across the table. Her manicured nails grazed his hand, and she felt him shiver. "You've been acting like someone died."

Chris let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, finally looking up at her. His eyes were searching hers, looking for a sign that he had misread everything. "Did you... did you see the video?"

Y/N blinked, a blush creeping up her neck. "Oh. Yeah. It blew up! It’s crazy, right?"

"Is it?" Chris asked, his voice dropping an octave, laced with a hint of hurt. "Because it seemed pretty clear how you felt about them. About the whole... Cadillac thing."

Y/N froze. "The Cadillac thing?"

"The song, Y/N," he said, leaning in, his voice a low rumble of insecurity. "You looked so beautiful, but you were basically saying you don't want that kind of life. You don't want that. And I get it. It’s flashy, it’s a bit much... but I just thought..."

He trailed off, looking defeated.

Y/N stared at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. She realized then that he had taken the lyrics literally. He thought her lip syncing was a manifesto of her dislikes. She looked at his handsome, worried face and felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to laugh and then, an even stronger urge to show him exactly how wrong he was.

"Chris," she said, her voice dropping into that same sultry tone from the video. She leaned closer, her eyes locking onto his. "Do you really think a song defines what I want?"

"It's what you were saying," he muttered.

"The song is about the image of a Cadillac," she whispered, her hand sliding from his wrist to his forearm, feeling the hard muscle beneath his sleeve. "The status. The pretentiousness. It’s not about the car itself."

Chris frowned, confused. "Then what is it about?"

Y/N leaned in even closer, until her lips were inches from his ear. She could smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off his body. She thought about the lyrics, the rhythm, and the way she had felt while filming it the secret thought that had been dancing in her mind the whole time.

"I don't hate the car, Chris," she breathed, her voice a delicious velvet. "In fact... if you really want to know what I think about Cadillacs..."

She pulled back just enough to see his eyes darken, his breath hitching in his throat.

"...I think they’re the perfect place to get absolutely wrecked."

The silence that followed was electric. Chris’s eyes widened, the realization hitting him like a lightning bolt. The insecurity vanished, replaced by a raw, hungry intensity that made Y/N’s toes curl in her shoes.

He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. He simply stood up, grabbed his keys, and held out his hand to her.

As Y/N took his hand, a predatory smirk crossed her face. She knew exactly where they were headed.

The silence that followed was electric. Chris’s eyes widened, the realization hitting him like a lightning bolt. The insecurity that had been weighing him down vanished instantly, replaced by a raw, hungry intensity that made Y/N’s breath hitch. He didn't say a word; he didn't need to. The way his gaze dropped to her lips told her everything she needed to know.

Before she could even blink, Chris’s hand was on her waist, his fingers digging slightly into her hip as he pulled her flush against him. The sudden movement sent a jolt of heat straight to her core. He leaned down, his forehead resting against hers for a split second as he took a ragged breath, his eyes dark with a newfound, predatory focus.

"You're a menace, Y/N," he growled, his voice vibrating against her skin.

He didn't give her a chance to respond. With a sudden, decisive movement, he spun her around, pinning her gently but firmly against the cool brick wall of the café. Y/N let out a soft gasp, her back arching as his body pressed into hers, her curves molding perfectly to his frame.

His hands scrambled blindly for his pocket, his movements uncharacteristically frantic as he fished out his keys. The metallic jingle sounded like a starting gun in the quiet afternoon air. Once he had them, he didn't let her go; he kept one arm locked around her waist, guiding her toward the parking lot with a sense of urgent purpose.

They reached the midnight black Cadillac, the polished surface gleaming under the sun. Chris didn't even bother with the traditional "gentlemanly" approach. He practically shoved the passenger door open, his eyes never leaving hers, and guided her inside with a strength that made her knees weak.

As she sank into the plush leather seat, the scent of his cologne and the sheer heat of his presence filled the small space. Chris leaned over her, his shadow looming large as he reached for the driver's side door, his eyes burning with a promise of exactly what was about to happen.

--------------------------

If you saw this earlier..no you didnt.

✧ taglist: @courta13

[sturnlsstuff]

COINCIDENCE • fratboy!chris x sassy!reader

— chris has been having problems and unfortunately there's only one person who could be the solution

— warnings: smut, dom!chris, sub!reader, cursing, unprotected p in v, eating pussy, dirty talk ig, making out, car/semi public sex, use of y/n, petnames, etc. — english isn't my first language.

a/n: i was supposed to write a small little blurb cus i missed them but i just kept going and...... well, yeah. 😀(i suggest reading my push and pull series first if you haven't, so you could understand their dynamic better. can be read solo too tho.) ALSO it's written from chris's pov so i used 3rd person narration hope yall dont mind. anyway have fun xoxo

ৎ୭~ৎ୭~ৎ୭

chris was more than frustrated. at first he didn't really acknowledge it, or maybe he did, but he just shrugged it off like he shrugs off everything else.

everything started a month ago, in april.

the first frat party after easter, keeping chris in a good mood the whole evening. some girl was all over him the whole time, making it to his room at the end of the night. now her hips were moving on top of him, her clothed, soaked pussy humping against his crotch while her lips are attacking his in the way chris likes. usually it'd already do the thing.

but it's not doing it this time.

he's going through the motions, hands on her waist, setting the pace he wants, mouth at her neck, but there's really... nothing. no spark, no neediness, nothing. he can't get it up even when her mouth tries working him up, kissing the base of his dick, sucking the tip, licking, playing with his balls. and yet his cock doesn't even twitch.

she stops after doing it for fifteen minutes, leaning back, searching his face in confusion. "you're tryin' too fuckin' hard," he blurts out once he sees her expression and realizes what is happening.

he has been having some slight problems lately, but only with cumming, never with getting bricked. he'd blame it on being distracted and overwhelmed with his own bullshit.

"oh?" she blinks. "am i doing it wrong?"

chris's eyes narrow and he frowns now as something clicks in his head. "are you a virgin?"

"i— what?" she gets a little shy. "no?"

"then the fuck you askin' me for? you should know," he scoffs, sitting up and pulling up his boxers.

"i'm sorry, i thought that's okay—"

"that's the problem," he cuts her off. "stop thinkin' so much and just do."

the girl obviously leaves after this and chris is aware that she wasn't the problem. she was doing everything right, moving the right way, she was hot and willing, but it just didn't work for him.

since then, he started focusing on his dick a little too much. at some point he even stopped checking girls out, because no matter what girl he picked, nothing was doing it for him. not even his own hand. he'd watch porn for hours, text with girls late at night, jerk off on facetime with them, and it still remained completely soft.

now he can't ignore it anymore and it's driving him insane. he's pissed. he can't even blame anyone, so he just gets awfully mean instead, not even on purpose, he just doesn't know how to deal with this thing. he's snapping at his friends, his patience gets shorter, he brushes off girls faster, blaming them even when they're clearly not the issue. he starts to drink more, smoke even more weed and sleep even less. matt and nick are the first to notice, trying to ask what's going on, but he brushes them off.

nate, who also noticed, gets fed up with him at some point, finally confronting him about his dickhead behaviour. and chris, stoned out of his mind with a need to talk to someone, thought, who else should he tell if not his best friend?

"... serious?" nate asks after a moment of silence.

"deadass," chris replies, chewing on his pancakes. they're in the kitchen, the frat house was usually half empty this early in the morning. chris had another sleepless night, nate woke up to get something to drink and found him here half an hour ago.

"and nothing works?" nate raises his eyebrows, in full disbelief.

"i tried everything," chris mumbles with a full mouth.

"everything?"

"yes."

"like, maybe you takin' the wrong girls."

"they're not the problem."

"what 'bout morning wood?"

"had it only twice and each time i tried to do somethin' about it, it went soft."

"what about porn with—"

"fuck, nate, m'sayin', i've tried everything. my fuckin' dick won't get hard, fuck," chris snaps, one pancake sliding off his plate because of his extreme hands movements, and it hits the floor. "fuck!"

"well," nate scratches his chin, leaning back in his chair. "maybe it's the weed? heard it affects if you smoke a lot."

"nah," he shakes his head, picking up the pancake and sitting back at the counter. "i've always smoked a lot. it fuckin' bothers me, i need to get laid and i fuckin' can't. y'know i saw this chick last night and she was hot as fuck, like, two months ago i'd have her from behind 'n shit, and now it didn't even fuckin' twitch, bro."

"damn," nate sighs. he's silent for a moment, then he asks. "did anything happen?" chris frowns, taking a bite. "like?"

nate thinks. "i'm having a hard time when i got a lot goin' on, so maybe that's that?"

"mh," chris hums and shrugs, eating the rest of his pancake.

"or you just got bored of that easy shit."

"what that means?" he frowns.

"y'know, you pick a new random girl every week, fuck her and that's it. this whole thing's predictable, bro. like, no thinkin' involved."

"since when this a problem?"

"since it stopped working? i don't know," nate shrugs. "but from my experience, sex's better when you know and like the person you fuck."

chris rolls his eyes. "yeah, yeah, that relationship bullshit. keep that to y'self."

"what can i say?" nate spreads his hands and smiles. "m'in love now."

"yeah, just like you were with the last chick. and the one before her."

"okay, now i mean it though. i like that one. and m'tellin' you it's better when you like 'em."

"hm," chris thinks then grimaces. "nah. that ain't this."

but he doesn't brush it off completely. because last time he tolerated someone, the sex was fucking amazing.

"think 'bout it," nate continues. "when was the last time someone got under your skin? like, maybe you're bored of the routine."

chris doesn't answer, because he knows. and nate knows. and chris knows that nate knows. and nate knows that chris knows that he knows he knows.

fuck.

"yup," nate hums.

"nah," chris scoffs.

"yeah," nate nods, the corner of his mouth twitching. "your dick wants what it wants."

"shut the fuck up," chris huffs, pressing the tip of his tongue against the inside of his cheek, his high brain working harder now. "it's not about her."

"well, it's you bringing her up, not me, so.."

"nathan, i'm gonna knock your teeth out."

"a'ight," nate replies, raising his hands in surrender. after a moment of silence, he can't hold back and asks, "when was the last time you saw her?"

chris groans and exhales deeply, dragging a hand across his face. "don't know. didn't pay much attention." nate gives him a look, "c'mon, man."

"for real," he replies, putting the plate down and getting off the counter. "don't remember. probably somewhere on the hallway or somethin'."

"and?"

"and what? nothing. i said hey, she replied, that's all," he grabs a pepsi from the fridge, cracking it open.

"so y'all still on that phase," nate snorts, shaking his head.

"it was her goddamn decision, the fuck you want me to do? besides it's better that way."

"yeah, so better that you can't fuck no more."

"fuck you, it doesn't have shit to do with her," chris mumbles. "it's been a year, you think i give a fuck?"

"you? no," nate says innocently. "but your dick's a different story."

chris rolls his eyes. "i don't even remember how it felt with her, so drop it."

that was actually a lie.

chris does remember. for the first two months he had even dreams about it, but he knew it will never happen again. he barely sees her anyway. it's not like they're ignoring each other on purpose, their paths just never cross, luckily. and maybe chris kind of takes care of it too. he just tried to respect her decision or whatever.

"she just got back from spain last week," nate gets him back on earth. "all tanned and shit. ya saw on insta?"

"i don't follow her anymore," chris takes another sip. "and don't really care."

"what i mean, is that she looks good, bro."

"she's still messin' with that guy?" chris asks nonchalantly, actually curious. because she's still friends with nick, he hears about she's up to, even when he doesn't want to.

"nope," he replies with a small grin, almost satisfied that chris asked. "she said he didn't get her flowers for her birthday, so she sent him to hell."

chris raises his eyebrows, then nods. he shouldn't be surprised. he kind of forgot how stubborn she was. sometimes he wonders if she's still the same or maybe worse. "good for her," he mutters. "anyway, i hope i'll fuckin' figure it out, 'cus one more week and you'll lock me up in a psych ward."

nate snorts. "yeah, hopefully not. and think 'bout what i said."

"no," chris replies.

"a'ight," nate shrugs, but can't hold back a smirk. "for me, you two are too dramatic and i've told you that last year too. but okay, if you want it that way, then fine," he shrugs.

"yeah," chris hums. "don't tell anyone about this, by the way."

"duh," nate nods, 'zipping' his mouth with his fingers. he's loyal, but since that accident on the beach when he spilled about nancy, he's been awfully careful even when drunk. the last thing he wants is to lose chris or his trust.

~~~

later that day, chris is pissed once again. he hit the gym, went for a long ass walk, did a lot of shit that should make a human tired. he was hoping he'd get some sleep tonight, but no. his body was physically exhausted, but he still couldn't fall asleep.

he shifts to lay flat on his back, one arm behind his head, the other loosely holding his phone above his face while scrolling on instagram. in his other hand he holds a joint, taking a hit from time to time.

he exhales slowly, skipping through stories, thinking that maybe the boredom he feels will finally put him to sleep.

but then as he scrolls, someone's profile pops up on suggested, making him scoff. how is this possible that it happens today, when he talked about her for the first time in a long while? the fuck?

the curiosity starts to grow as he stares at the little profile picture. is this a new hair color?

his thumb hovers for half a second longer than it should and then he accidentally clicks on the profile.

and there it is.

the last time he was here, she had much less posts and followers. now she even has highlights.

chris shifts slightly against the mattress, jaw tightening as he scrolls down, realizing that nate wasn't exaggerating. she does look good, different in a way he can't explain. more intentional and sharper somehow. he's been seeing her sometimes on campus or with nick, but he never paid enough attention.

he raises his eyebrows, going through her posts. she's showing off and he can't even blame her.

his thumb keeps moving, tapping into one of the higlights. spain. her skin darker than he remembers, hair shorter and a little curly from the water. he leans his head back against the wall, dragging his hand across his face and exhaling deeply as he keeps tapping to see more. he stops at one specific selfie where she's laying on some bed on her stomach, her ass up just enough to catch an eye, but not give quite much to see, her chin on her hand, creating a little pout on her lips. the lights in the room low, keeping the vibes almost intimate.

suddenly it's not just a picture, it's a memory. he's having flashbacks. she used to lay on his bed like this, wearing his shirt after he just completely fucked her out, her ass would probably be still all red and in marks from his hands. the way she'd glance at him over her shoulder, cheeks all flushed, hair messy and moaning his name as he was taking her from behind. how she'd be grabbing his sheets for dear life, making a mess on his bed. the way she talked to him while being on top and riding his dick however she wanted, knowing that this was the only time she could have any control over him, and he'd let her, because he loved that shit. she'd piss him off on purpose only so he could fuck her senseless later.

chris swallows hard, shifting slightly again, like he's trying to shake it off. he scoffs, but his thumb keeps moving anyway, watching another story, seeing another selfie, each from a different angle. and suddenly, he lets himself remember all of it. the fights, the tension, the energy. she was unpredictable, challenging him since the beginning.

he squeezes his eyes shut for a second, jaw clenching. because he knows it's over now and it's mostly his own fault. not that he misses her, but the sex was good and there was no question about it. she knew it, he knew it and probably everyone who's ever heard them through the walls.

"fuck," he mutters, opening his eyes and frowning, looking down at his lap when he feels the slightest movement. not much, but just enough. finally something even if just a flicker. the shift was so small that it pissed him off more than if there was nothing at all.

he stills, staring down like if he moves too fast , it'll disappear.

"what the fuck," he mumbles, eyes moving to the screen, more focused now, testing himself.

another story where she's at the beach in nothing but bikini, and he feels it again. the same faint feeling he craved to have for the past month, but couldn't. his hand moves to adjust himself and his dick isn't even half-hard, but it's not as soft as before.

"you've gotta be kiddin' me," he groans, dropping his head back and staring at the ceiling, phone clutched in his hand.

a mix of emotions hits him all at once, messy and overlapping. annoyance and frustration, but also that same, familiar pull that he hasn't had since last year.

would she be the solution to his problem?

but how is he gonna solve it? it's impossible.

but wasn't she impossible at first too?

he looks back at her face, grimacing when guilt immediately hits him, because he knows he's got to do something. he's too selfish not to do it. he felt almost bad, because it looked like she stepped into a new version of herself and didn't plan to step back out, and he had already started planning how to fuck it up.

~~~

chris had a plan, and the only person who could help was nate, which was pretty humiliating, honestly, but he was also the only person who wouldn't judge him.

"you're literally trash tonight, bro," nate says, not even looking away from the screen.

"suck my dick."

"if it wasn't out of service."

chris sends him a glare, hitting his head and knocking nate's cap off. "shut the fuck up."

"chill," nate snorts, reaching for his hat.

"i can't chill," chris huffs, taking another hit from the joint sitting between them on the floor, next to the empty energy drinks cans. they've been playing fortnite all day, chris didn't even know what time it is.

he exhales the clouds of smoke, looking back at the game. "about that...." he starts slowly. "was thinkin' about what you said last weekend."

"and what did i say?"

"that maybe m'bored of the same shit over and over again," he replies. "y'know, the routine or whatever."

"oh, yeah, i said that," nate nods with a small smirk, looking at chris. "and you're sayin' m'right?"

"i said i was thinkin' about what you said, not that you're right, dickhead."

"same thing," nate's smirk grows. "so?"

"fuck off," chris mutters, shifting on the floor and leaning back against the bed. he sighs, eyes on the screen. "m'sayin' it's just fuckin' annoying. nothing literally changes and it's been over a month. and now i know it's, like, psychological or whatever, which is even worse."

nate snorts. "you sayin' psychological sounds wrong."

"i'm being deadass, dude."

"psychological how?"

"just psychological."

"but psychological in what way exactly?"

"psychological in a way when it's fuckin' psychological."

"so, like, psychologically you can't fuck anyone who's not her or—"

"psychologically i'm gonna fuckin' beat your ass if you don't shut your mouth," chris cuts him off, glaring at nate who was grinning from ear to ear. "and i didn't even mention her."

"yet," nate adds. "but it is about her, no?"

"no," chris scoffs. he scratches his head. "i mean, i'm just sayin'... i just need to figure somethin' out. it's not even about her."

nate barked out a laugh. "you cannot be serious."

"it's not," chris insisted. "it's about fixing the problem."

"the problem being your dick."

chris pointed at him, "exactly."

"so what's the plan?" nate asks, taking a hit from the joint.

"there's no plan..." chris mutters. "i just thought about it... maybe if she would, y'know, help me get it to work, then we could go back to no talkin' and it'd be okay."

"until your dick stops working again."

"don't even say that, that shit's a nightmare," chris says seriously.

"okay, but what's even going on? like, what happened that you can't fuck? 'cus i like her and shit, but there's no way that after a year you got so nostalgic that you can't get hard."

chris takes another hit off the joint, slowly exhaling. after the last talk with nate, he lowkey realized what could've affect him so bad, but he's not going to tell anyone about it. he has to deal with it alone and he will, he just didn't know the stress is gonna cause him so much problems.

"whatever that thing with her was, it's gonna work. it has to," chris says instead.

"but she's not gonna talk to you, y'know that," nate says, looking at the screen. "and honestly, she's doing great from what i know, so maybe you could figure it out without her."

chris frowns, looking at him. "what, you her bodyguard now?"

"obviously not—"

“you acting like nick," chris huffs. “don't do this, don't do that, blah, blah... actin' like she's made of glass that is so easy to break. believe me, she's not."

"well, nick's a different story, 'cus they're friends. i'm only on speakin' terms with her, so i don't really give a fuck, but after..."

"great," chris cuts him off. "if you don't give a fuck, then you gonna help me. obviously she's not gonna hang out with me and i can't just randomly text her. pretty sure i'm blocked, actually."

nate sighs, putting the console down when they both lose the match. "so what? you want me to set you two up?" he raises an eyebrow.

chris hesitated for a small second. "not us," he corrects nate. "just invite people, y'know, like... she won't show up to the frat. she was here, what, like three times since last year? and it was either to come get riley's drunk ass or when nick was here, which is rare."

"so, you want me to throw a party?"

"nah, then i can't talk to her," he replies, realizing what he'd admitted approximately one second too late. "i mean, i gotta talk to her. i can't just walk over and pull my dick out, hoping she'll happily hop on it. the fuck?"

"right," nate nods, grinning again.

chris looked ready to commit homicide. "the fuck you smilin' for?"

"nothing," nate shrugs, still smiling. "okay, yeah, i'll help. who am i inviting?"

"not much people, just enough so nick or riley don't notice me talkin' to her. remember it ain't a party."

"okay," nate nods. "but how you gonna convince 'em to come?"

"i'll handle nick and if nick comes i bet the other one will two."

nate nods, already grabbing his phone. "this weekend?"

"duh," chris hums. "can't wait another week to get fuckin' laid."

"a'ight, man," nate snorts, typing out a message. "what will you tell her? i mean, you gonna play games or straight up tell her what's up?"

"she'd laugh in my face," chris huffs. "first i gotta see if we still got that thing 'cus if we don't, then it ain't gonna work either."

"that thing?"

"y'know, like, that sexual tension or whatever."

"and if you do?"

"then i'll figure it out."

once nate sent the message to people, chris realised that he might be getting himself into another shit. how is he going to stop stressing, when he causes himself even more stress? because if this won't work or if she won't even talk to him, it means he'll be stuck with his broken dick for god knows how long and he might explode. is there a fucking doctor for this? he felt insane.

two days later, the frat house was weirdly calm for once. not dead silent, but it wasn't that usual type of party where music was vibrating through the walls hard enough to cause brain damage. nate kept it small, just like chris wanted. some frat guys, a couple of girls from campus and some friends. people sitting on counters, mostly chatting with each other, drinks in hands, the music playing low from the speaker in the kitchen.

it was totally intentional, but it looked casual and natural, which is funny, considering chris had spent the last twenty four hours acting like he was preparing for war. maybe he was. he wouldn't even blame her if she threw a glass bottle at him.

now he stood near the kitchen island, scrolling on his phone while interally losing his fucking mind, because she still wasn't here and it's been an hour.

every time the front door opened, his head turned automatically before he could stop himself. he felt like a dumb idiot, but she was his last hope. he remembers, how after their first fuck, he had some problems with coming with other girls, and she fixed it quite easily. now it's a little different and definitely worse, but he believes it will work.

but every second that passed made him more irritated, which nate obviously noticed. "you're pacing," he muttered, pouring himself another drink.

"m'literally standin' still."

"sure."

chris glared at him, then his eyes moved back at the door when he heard it being opened. nick walked in first, then riley appeared right behind him.

they barely made it two steps into the frat house before chris noticed one very important thing. she wasn't with them.

at first, he thought maybe she was behind them or still outside, but once nick started walking over to him, he knew she's definitely not here. he felt his stomach sink instantly, because the whole fucking point of this was for her to come here.

"hey," nick says, giving them a small nod. "what's up?"

chris nodded back, acting normal. "didn't think i'd ever see you here willingly again."

"was bribed with alcohol."

"who wasn't," riley says, walking over too. "what's up, sturniolo? new hat to hide your receving hairline? have you thought about getting some hair transplant yet?"

chris exhales deeply. "nice to see you too. cool bangs. this to hide your big ass forehead?"

"it's called big brain, dickhead. some shit you don't have."

"lovely," nick comments under his breath.

it was no secret that riley despises him. even if him and her bestfriend are technically on good terms, because they ended things peacefully after all, riley still holds a grudge against him and each time she sees him she makes sure he's aware of it.

nate, who was standing beside chris with a drink in his hand, looked between them amused and spoke before riley could. "where's y/n? i invited all three of ya."

chris wanted to hit and thank him at the same time. because what a stupid fucking question to ask, but also thank fucking god he asked.

nick shrugged. "she's busy."

riley snorts. "yeaaah," she dragged out slowly, smirking. "really busy."

chris keeps his expression calm. he just knows riley did that to annoy him, because she looked right at him while saying that. she does that all the time, and it sometimes makes chris wonder if he's still talked about between these girls. otherwise, riley wouldn't try to get a reaction out of him, right? like, did she actually move on or maybe not completely?

honestly there wasn't even anything to move on from, for him at least. he only sometimes thought of her body, because that, sure as hell, was a view he couldn't forget. how it looked, how it felt. maybe sometimes he wanted to have someone who'd talk back to him or piss him off on purpose too, because he got used to it, and all those other girls do is just kissing his ass which is quite exhausting after a while.

"oh," nate replies. "where she at?"

chris pinches his hand. nate groans in pain and grimaces. "you drink tonight?" chris asks nick, drawing the attention away from nate.

nick nods. "yeah, but not much. last time i got too fucked up."

"i literally heard that last week too," riley huffs. "but, yeah, let's get drinks. can't deal with this jungle sober," she side eyes chris and jerks her head toward the kitchen. nick snorts and follows her.

as soon as they disappear around the corner, chris turns to nate immediately. "what the fuck does busy mean?"

nate shrugs.

"you said she was comin'."

"no, i said riley said they're coming. so i thought she means all three of 'em."

"well, she's not fuckin' here," chris huffs, clenching his jaw. his whole plan is pointless now.

"chill out," nate mumbles, looking way too entertained already. "maybe she'll come. y'know she shows up late often."

chris drags a hand through his hair, adjusting his hat. he exhales deeply, rubbing his temples and staying quiet for a minute before looking at his bestfriend again. "she's not comin'," chris states.

"you don't know that—"

"yeah, i do."

he could literally feel that awful feeling that this whole night was about to go shit. he wouldn't care so much if he wasn't so desperate to get laid.

he grabs a drink and downs it in one go.

for the next hour, he tries to act normal, but he can feel the irritation spreading inside his body, making it harder to relax with each minute. every time the front door opened, his head turned automatically, and every fucking time it wasn't her. by the second hour, after he just had a pointless make out session with some ginger girl, he stops hiding that he's in a terrible mood. he keeps drifting in and out of conversations, barely listening, snapping at the guys for stupid things, smoking more weed than he meant to. at some point, matt had to take away all the joints chris had with him, which pissed him off even more, so he walked outside, pulling out a joint from his sock. the backyard was empty and peaceful, the cold air hitting him immediately.

he huffs, leaning against the railing, lighting up a joint, inhaling deeply. “stupid fuck," he mutters under his nose and snorts at the thought of matt thinking chris would've only three joints for the whole night, and keeping them only in his pockets.

please.

"you need to calm the fuck down."

chris closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "oh, for fuck's sake," he mumbles, before opening his eyes and seeing nate stepping outside, closing the back door behind. "m'calm," he says.

"yeah," nate scoffs, looking over at him. he frowns, noticing him smoking. "didn't matt just— where— y'know what? doesn't matter," he sighs. "i have news."

"what kind of news?" chris asks uninterested, exhaling deeply. nate shoves his hands into his hoodie pocket. "so..."

chris stared at him. "so?"

nate grimaces. "she's on a date."

chris blinks. "a what?"

"a date."

"the fuck?" chris raised his eyebrows. "with who?"

nate pulls his phone out, opening instagram and clicking something. then he turns his phone around to show chris a story.

he narrows his eyes to see better, because the light on the picture was dim. there were drinks and food on the table, clearly some kind of bar. it was a picture of her smiling and holding a glass of wine, her hair falling onto her shoulders in waves, cheeks pink and glowy, eyes sparkling. he was pretty sure it was the lighting, because there's no way she can be this happy. besides, what place is this? it's no fucking fancy restaurant, what the fuck is she smiling about? it looks like a cheap bar and if she wasn't dressed so fancy and cool, this picture would've looked shit.

and there's his account tagged.

chris frowns. "what the fuck?"

"yeah," nate scratches his head and turns his phone off.

"she ditched me to go out with some.... who the fuck is this?"

"well, technically—"

"she preferred to go to some cheap ass bar rather than come here with her friends? invited by her other friend— what the fuck?"

"actually—"

"where the fuck is this?" chris asks, taking another drag and throwing the joint away.

"what? you wanna go there?"

"i don't wanna," chris replies. "m'gonna go there, the fuck?"

"yo," nate blinks and moves quickly when chris is already moving. he grabs his shoulder. "whatcha gonna do, hm? be smart for a second."

chris yanks away immediately, but it doesn't stop nate from trying to speak some sense into his head. "chill out," nate insists. "first of all, she didn't ditch you, 'cus she doesn't even know you asked me to do this and invite her. second of all, you shouldn't be even surprised she didn't come, when she only comes to the frat when there's emergency. like, riley blackin' out last month or her talking to that crazy ex of hers. this type of shi''," nate says. "so honestly, your plan sucked."

"thanks for tellin' me earlier, dumbfuck," chris scoffs.

"was about to, but then riley said they'll come, so i was like, okay, maybe i was wrong. clearly not."

"that's why i gotta go there."

"and do what? hm? what you gonna do? drag her outta there? do i gotta remind you that you got no right to be jealous and mad—?"

"m'not fuckin' jealous. i'm fuckin' horny and my fuckin' dick won't fuckin' work," chris snaps.

"tell her that and see how fast she gonna slap the shit out of you," nate huffs. "that was literally the reason she wanted to stop hookin' up with ya, remember? she said she'd feel like shit if it continues. you told me that, yeah?"

"i guess," chris mumbles.

"so," nate continues. "you think she'll so happily agree to fuck you again, when you make her feel this way?"

"it's been a year."

"if it changed, she'd probably already reach out, no?"

chris thinks for a minute.

"fuck," he says, taking his hat off when his head suddenly gets itchy. he wants to rip his hair out. "why the fuck you're sayin' all of this now? you were the one to suggest me to fuck her, 'cus apparently my dick misses her."

nate raises his eyebrows. "bro, i just said you gotta fuck someone you like and who's fun, and stop with those meaningless hookups, 'cus it clearly doesn't do it no more. i meant like a new person maybe. you were the one to think of her."

"you literally brought her up!"

"you did," nate corrects him. "i just responded, like..."

"fuck," chris says again and sighs. "show me that story again."

nate shakes his head slightly, but does it anyway, showing him her story once again. chris tilts his head to the side, now paying more attention to how she looks. then he clicks on that guy's profile. too many posts, mostly posting his car or some fuckass selfies. he has like four highlights, one for his car— obviously— one for 'photodumps', one for his dog and one for him.

it's literally captioned as 'me.'

“what kind of man has a fuckin' highlight of himself?" chris cringes. "or does photo dumps when the month ends? april photo dump, so slay," he does a high pitched voice. “is he deadass?"

nate snorts. "photo dumps are cool."

"yeah, but not this kind. look," he opens the highlight. "what the fuck is this? a fucking photo of a fucking matcha? who the fuck drinks that shit?"

"nick does."

"exactly."

then chris frowns. "wait, is it the same guy? didn't you tell me they stopped talkin'?"

"that's what i heard."

"you literally said she stopped talkin' to him. 'cus he forgot her birthday," chris looks at him, giving nate his phone back.

nate looks defensive immediately. "i said flowers."

"what?"

"he forgot to buy her flowers," nate corrects. "for her birthday. i don't know. i just heard her complain' to nick once."

"that's fuckin' stupid."

nate shrugs helplessly, "don't know, man. maybe he got her the flowers eventually."

chris grimaced, "i thought her standards would get higher after me, but shit got lower." he exhales deeply, looking back at nate. "lemme see it again," he reaches for nate's phone.

"bro," nate mutters, but unlocks his phone again. chris leans in, "zoom in."

"how the fuc—"

"take a screenshot, i don't fuckin' know. zoom in."

nate rolls his eyes, but does it anyway. "how many bars do we know?" chris asks.

"i don't know," nate replies. "what we doin' this for anyway? you can't just go there, chris."

but chris isn't listening. he's squinting his eyes at the picture, trying to see anything. "green neon sign," he mutters.

nate looks at the screen. "the martini glass," he mumbles and frowns, now paying more attention. "hold on—"

"what?" chris looks at him instantly.

"hold on," he repeats. "top left corner— that neon lights.... i threw up because of this shit."

"huh?"

“they made me sick, i literally threw up all fifteen beers i drank," he explains. “beer in a martini glass. matt made fun of me. don't you remember? new year's eve?"

"i blacked out," chris says.

"that's venus," nate adds, still looking at the picture.

"the bar downtown?" chris raises his eyebrows.

"yeah."

"you sure?"

nate nods slowly. "like, ninety percent sure."

"told you he took her to some cheap ass bar," he scoffs, already putting his hat back on. nate notices it immediately. "you ain't goin' there."

"i absolutely am."

"no."

"relax," he pats nate's shoulder. "m'just goin' out. it's boring here tonight anyway."

"chris, she'll fucking know."

"coincidence."

"dude—"

but chris was already walking back to the frat house, getting upstairs to his room to freshen up a little bit. not even twenty minutes later, he had somehow made an even worse decision, because apparently going alone would actually look suspicious, nate was right about that.

so naturally, he recruited backup, which was a random girl that was alone, sipping on her drink in the kitchen at the frat. she was pretty and seemed a little dumb, so he thought she'd be perfect. he didn't even know her name, nor did he care. what mattered is that she agreed immediately, which honestly made the situation more annoying than helpful, and he realised that when they walked into the bar.

she was talking nonstop. like, genuinely.

"...and then my professor literally said attendance is mandatory, but who even does that?"

"yeah."

"and i was like, okay, if you wanted us there so bad, maybe don't schedule an eight in the morning—"

"crazy."

she just kept talking while chris was losing his mind. he nods automatically at random intervals, while scanning the room for approximately the fiftieth time. there was no sign of her and his irritation started to climb steadily, because not only did he drag himself here, but he also dragged this girl with him, and now he was stuck pretending to be engaged in a conversation he couldn't give a fuck less about.

"...so then emma texted me—"

"mm."

"...and honestly? i think she's just jealous—"

chris orders drinks, hoping it'll shut the girl up for a minute, at least.

where the fuck is she?

maybe nate was wrong and it wasn't this bar? or maybe she left already?

great.

"... and my roommate literally stole my curling iron—"

chris rubs his forehead slowly, getting fed up with this. he was about to tell her to shut the fuck up, then he stopped mid breath, seeing someone walking out of the bathroom and walking toward a table in the corner of the bar. his brain recognized her before the rest of him caught up.

she sits back down at her table, smiling at the guy and brushing her hair off her shoulder. chris looks at his drink, trying not to look like he just got a million dollars.

fuck yeah.

chris fixes himself immediately, leaning slightly against the bar, forcing himself into something resembling normal. then he casually looks over at her table again—

she's already looking.

she saw him.

chris keeps the neutral expression on his face, keeping the little smile, like he actually enjoyed talking to the girl in front of him. she was looking directly at him, the eye contact lasting maybe two seconds and chris sees how her expression changes. surprise first, then slight confusion and a small frown. then she looks away.

he feels something sharp spark immediately in his chest, because he got a reaction and that's exactly what he hoped for. he has to stop himself from watching too obviously as she takes a sip of her wine and says something to the guy.

"...you good?"

chris blinks and snaps back to reality, noticing that the random girl paused talking. "duh," he hums.

"you zoned out...?"

"no i didn't," chris denies it, knowing that now he has to act like he's at least interested in this girl, just in case she'll watch him. this had to be believable, so he focused on paying attention.

"let's find a table, hm?"

he unintentionally picked a perfect one. he sat across the girl and he realized, that it might look like he's focusing on the conversation and on her, but his eyes kept drifting several tables behind her on specific someone. not constantly, because that would be painfully obvious, just casual checks. small glances from time to time, too practiced to look suspicious. she didn't even look once or at least he didn't notice it, which slightly annoyed him.

so he started to think.

now she knows he's here and she saw him. what next? he can't be direct, that would be insane if he just walked over. but he's here for something, so he won't be just sitting here and listening to this girl yapping, when he's got a mission to accomplish.

so now chris sat there pretending to listen, while internally running through increasingly terrible options.

it was hard because it was a whole year of mostly hallway hey's, the occasional accidental overlap with mutual friends, quick eye contact, short acknowledgements. nothing else.

there was only one situation on her birthday, when nick stopped him to ask him something and she'd been standing beside nick, scrolling on her phone. he remembers finishing the conversation and noticing her there like an afterthought. she'd looked up because she felt him looking.

"yo."

she'd give him a nod.

chris knew it was her birthday, nick had been talking about it for days, but wishing her happy birthday felt weirdly too personal to where they were now, so instead he'd threw a joke, "don't start actin' like a millennial now. that's a big ass age you turnin'."

she'd raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting he'd say anything.

"too late."

and that was it. their biggest conversation in over twelve months.

how the fuck is he going to make her talk to him?

but the universe decided to be on his side today. he sees the guy telling her something and then standing up, moving towards the bathroom. just in time when his random 'date' had abruptly panicked over something involving lipliner and a mirror. she'd disappeared into the bathroom as well, mumbling under her nose about how horrible she probably looks right now.

this left exactly one opening.

chris sees her standing up from her table with her empty glass and head toward the bar, and before he could think about it, he was already moving too.

he walks over, casually standing right beside her and ordering two drinks. he can see with a corner of his eye, how her head turns, when she acknowledges his presence.

"is this a coincidence?" she speaks up.

this was getting way too easy. she spoke first and he didn't even have to move a finger.

her voice wasn't cold nor warm, just suspiciously unimpressed. something in his chest loosen instantly.

there it fucking was.

"you really think this highly of yourself?"

he turns to look at her and their eyes meet again. she raises her eyebrow, "i just asked a simple question."

"what do you want me to say?"

"the truth would be refreshing."

chris scoffs lightly, "ouch. you think i'd lie?"

"yes."

her response was immediate, without hesitation. he couldn't blame her.

the bartender slid her drink toward her. she grabbed it without breaking eye contact. "you tracked down my bar?" she asks.

"your bar?"

she gestures vaguely around them, "this exact one."

"crazy," he replies. "other people go outside too, y'know."

"mhm," she hums.

"what?"

"nothing."

"don't be shy, say it."

she takes a sip from her drink, ignoring what he said. "you brought backup?"

"backup?" he asks, tilting his head to the side and barely holding back a smirk. "this is how we callin' our dates now? what happened to ya?"

"you, unfortunately," she replies flatly.

bruh.

"you're welcome," he replies, taking his drinks from the bartender. "at least you know the game now."

"are you proud?" she scoffs.

"kind of."

she huffs, crossing one arm over herself lightly. she was getting slowly defensive. "you just don't change, huh?"

"what can i say?" he shrugs, so reading hands slightly. she gives him a full eye roll. oh, that was a view he liked to see.

"you're just dumb as shit."

"yeah, what else?" he smirks, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek, eyes not daring to move away from her.

her eyes slightly narrow. "stop doing that face."

"what face?"

"the smug one."

"are you flirting with me right now?"

"chris."

hearing his own name from her lips after so long, makes a shiver go down his spine. he starts to feel the adrenaline rising. "so obsessed," he mutters.

"me?" her eyebrows shoot up as she points at herself with her finger. she snorts, "damn, you're hilarious."

"just admit you're happy to see me."

"if i wanted to see a clown, i'd just go to the circus."

he grins, "sweet as always." she grimaces.

chris wasn't stupid, he knew that the possiblity of something happening tonight was low, but not zero. she seemed even more stubborn than before, but he guesses it's only because they havent talked, or be around each other for so long. her mask will slip soon enough and he'll make sure of it. she's not easy, she also wasn't easy the first time, but somehow he made it and had her, so he's confident that he's capable of doing it again.

and this conversation was enough to prove that the tension is still here. it probably always has been, he just didn't pay attention.

the best thing is that he could tell she feels it too, so if he could crack through her walls once again...

"frat party not exciting enough?" she asks sarcastically, taking a sip of her drink.

"how you know 'bout it?" he plays dumb. she gives him a look. "please, it's friday. besides, i was invited."

"really?" he raises his eyebrows. "by who?"

"nate, i think. riley said he texted her or somethin'," she mumbles. "however, couldn't make it as you can see."

"you didn't miss much, it was boring as fuck."

"hm," she hums, looking skeptical, eyeing him up and down. "never thought i'd hear you say that."

"people change," he shrugs and she snorts. "what?"

"yeah, people maybe yes, but not you," she huffs. "you're literally exactly the same."

"which is...?"

"stupid," she replies instantly, making his smirk bigger. "and cocky. too confident for sure."

"you liked that, didn't you?"

"good thing you used the past tense for it."

"c'mon now," he rolls his eyes. "and you're just as stubborn and gorgeous as before."

he knew exactly what he's doing, every single word and move calculated, intentionally giving her deja vu. it's been a while since he had to even try to get a girl keep talking to him and here his mission was even more complicated. she was being defensive and skeptical, but she's still talking to him after all, which has to mean something, right?

she opened her mouth to say something, just in time, when chris noticed the girl he brought walking and talking animatedly beside her date, like they'd known each other for years.

she frowns and looks around, noticing the same thing. the girl stopped mid sentence noticing them and she clearly told the guy about it, because he looked up and not even ten seconds later, they were walking over with big smiles on their faces.

"hey, i'm back!" the girl said way too enthusiastic, waving at chris, like he was fucking blind.

"i see," he replies slowly, his eyes moving between the girl and this guy.

"oh, that's my cousin mason. how small the world is, right?"

"i haven't seen her in years," the guy— mason apparently, adds.

great. family reunion.

"that's crazy," she mutters, caught off guard, but forcing a smile.

mason smiles, "right?" he kisses her cheek.

ew.

then he looks at her and chris, still grinning. "wait, and that is....?"

"oh, that's chris!" the girl beside him says, gripping his arm. "my date!"

"oh," mason hums and nods. "and you know each other?" he asks, looking at her. this guy's face was irritating.

there was a small pause where she looked directly at chris and chris looked right back. it was almost like she was telling him to keep his mouth shut. "kind of," she replies, slowly turning her head away.

"mhm," chris smirks, taking a sip of his drink. mason smiled, "oh, this is perfect. we should just sit together."

"yes, oh my god!" the girl agreed, clapping her hands. "that'd actually be so fun!"

she looked like she wants to launch herself directly into traffic, while chris barely could hold back his grin. this is gonna be so fun.

"yeah," he nods. "let's sit."

he could feel her glare at his side profile the moment those words left his mouth, but he couldn't give a fuck less. two minutes later he was already settled down, sitting with all of them at the same table. the girl was next to him while she was sitting across from him. mason sat beside her.

for a while the cousins carried almost the entire conversation by themselves. chris leaned back comfortably, throwing a sarcastic comment every now and then, knowing it'll only annoy her. he keeps his hand rested near his 'date', just to sell the picture, even when his attention keeps drifting.

he starts to notice how clingy mason is. how he keeps leaning in close when he talks, how his arm brushes her shoulder, his hand lingers against her upper arm. it was quite normal, yeah, but he could see how irritated she gets before forcing herself to look calm. she likes physical touch, but only on her terms and he gets that. this constant clingy proximity was clearly annoying her and realizing that sent a weird flash of satisfaction through him.

at one point, mason slung an arm loosely around the back of her chair, while laughing at something, and chris could see the way she exhaled deeply. her eyes drifted toward her drink before finding his across the table, making her look even more irritated.

chris hides a grin behind his drink.

a tray of shots that mason ordered appears halfway through the conversation. "this for y'all, i'm her uber driver for tonight," he announces with a wink thrown in her direction

chris reached for it automatically at the same time as she did, which makes their hands brush briefly. barely a second, but enough to let him feel the slightest shift down there. he licks his lips and smirks seeing how fast she pulls her hand away. he was enjoying himself, while she was slowly losing her mind, and he was only about to make it worse.

"... yeah, she literally refused to let me parallel park," mason chuckles.

chris could tell yapping runs in their family, because neither mason or his cousin was shutting up. mason was talking for ten minutes straight about how amazing she is and how they met, which was so boring. chris found out they're not together— not that he's surprised— but mason makes it clear that he's serious about this, meanwhile she just smiles and nods. it's hilarious.

mason keeps going anyway, completely oblivious. "she's lowkey mean though," he says, nudging her shoulder lightly. "first week we knew each other, she roasted my music taste for an hour."

"'cus it sucked," she replies.

"see?" mason chuckles.

chris rolls the glass slowly between his fingers. "could've been worse, bro."

"try to deal with her for more than thirty minutes, man," mason replies with a laugh.

"believe me, i know."

"oh, my cousin's the same?" he jokingly asks.

chris feels her stare, but this time he doesn't look at her at all. "i meant y/n," chris replies casually.

mason raises his eyebrow, looking between them. "right, i keep forgetting you know each other," he chuckles and takes a sip of his water. "so, you two in the same class or somethin'? how did you meet actually? she never mentioned you and i know most of her friends."

"hey, let's order some more shots—" she cuts in.

"we're not friends," chris says. "we were friendly for sure though."

mason frowns, "you're not friends...—?"

"nope," chris shakes his head, leaning back in his chair. "we were fuckin', actually."

mason blinked, for the first time shutting up. the girl beside chris frowned, like she didn't understand english out of sudden. not that chris cared anyway.

his eyes were already at her, waiting for her reaction, because he knew he's gonna get one. and he was right.

she slowly turned her head towards chris, with the kind of look that suggested homicide. her hand on the glass tightened and he was pretty sure she was imagining choking him.

"oh," mason also frowns. "wait, what?"

"what i just said," chris replies, leaning back with a smirk.

she still hadn't looked away from chris. it looked like she's already burying him in her head. mason looked visibly thrown away now. he shifts slightly in his seat. "when?" he asks slowly.

"old story," she finally speaks, her voice sharp.

"maybe old, but i bet you remember though."

chris has never been happier, like right now, seeing how her cheeks grow literally red from anger. "shut the fuck up," she remarks.

"wait, so— now we're all just sitting here when you two...— oh my god," mason huffed with a grimace, clearly disgusted. chris's 'date' looked wildly invested suddenly.

"no big deal, man," he shrugs. "we're cool, right?" he asks her with a intentionally sweet voice, acting way too innocent.

the look on her face could've melted structural steel. "let's talk outside," she says, already standing up.

"wait—" mason starts.

"let me handle it," she cuts him off, looking at him now. "he clearly forgot he's not as important as he thinks he is. i'll be back."

mason nods, clearly not wanting to argue.

pussy.

she takes her purse, already moving toward the exit. chris actually grins, getting up and saluting at them, before leaving the bar. he finds her on the parking lot near her car, lighting up a cigarette.

"you drink and drive now?" he asks with obnoxiously happy tone.

"if you listened, instead of staring at me, you would've heard mason's driving my car," she replies sharply.

"doesn't have his own?" he asks sarcastically, stopping right in front of her.

"drop it," she shoots back. "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"what?" he asks innocently, tilting his head.

"what the fuck was that inside?"

"just a conversation."

"why did you tell him that?"

chris exhales through his nose, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "'cus i wanted to," he says simply. "wasn't that what we were doin'?"

"could've skipped that part," she scoffs, taking a drag. "you literally show here and ruin my date— don't even try to say it was a coincidence," she doesn't let him speak. "you wouldn't leave a fucking frat party just to go out with some chick, i fucking know you. since when do you even go on dates?" she huffs, shaking her head. "ridiculous."

he almost smiles.

the corner of his mouth twitches as he tries to fight it, clearly losing it though. he actually loved saying that shit to mason, the dude's face dropping like a rock, and chris just sitting there with zero remorse. it was amazing.

"maybe i've changed," he shrugs, taking a step forward.

she lets out a bitter chuckle. "oh, sure, you changed. jesus christ, you're sick in the head."

"yeah, i am," he says simply. he closes the space between them two like it’s nothing. like he didn’t just blow up her date five minutes ago.

he stops about a foot away, close enough that the smoke from the cigarette drifts toward him, curling into his hoodie.

of course he's proud of it. she's looking at him again. angry, yes, but she's looking.

"you're fucked up."

"maybe."

"and fucking annoying."

"i guess."

"you know exactly what you're doing."

"yeah," he smiles lazily.

that answer clearly wasn’t the one she wanted, because she stared at him for a second, like she’d momentarily lost access to language. then she asks, "why?"

"why what?"

"why are you doing this?" she elaborated.

streetlight catches the frustration on her face, cigarette smoke curling between them, the same expression she used to get right before an argument turned into three hours of impossibly good sex.

is he getting there?

he tilts his head, "doing what exactly?"

"showing up," she replies. "we agreed to stop."

"m'just talkin' to you, relax," he leans against her car.

"you never just talk," she scoffs, looking at him. "what do you want?"

he shrugs, watching how she crosses her arms over her chest, all closed off and guarded. "maybe i just changed my mind."

something flickers across her face. "well," she speaks after a moment. "i didn't."

"hm, i don't believe you."

"that's literally not my problem," she snorts, looking at him like he's crazy.

he reaches out and plucks the cigarette right from her fingers, before taking a slow drag himself, eyes locked on hers the whole time before dropping the rest of it onto the ground.

"that was mine—"

"you're defensive," he mutters quietly, exhaling clouds of smoke. "'n' if it's not your problem, you're not scared i can prove you wrong, right?"

"of course not, 'cause you can't," she remarks.

"right," he nods and smirks. "what do i get if i can though?"

her eyes narrow. "try and i'll punch you in the face."

chris should probably make another stupid comment here and make her furious, but the proof he's gotten already has made him feel victorious. the chemistry was still there— he still was able to get under her skin, and that's exactly what he wanted.

so why not cross the line? luck is on his side tonight anyway, so what if he pushes it a little more?

his eyes drop to her lips.

she obviously notices. her eyes flick down as well, just for the tiniest fraction of a second before snapping back up at him, like she’s angry at herself for doing it. and that goes straight to chris's ego.

she's going to probably kill him, but who would he be if he didn't do it anyway?

he's already leaning in before common sense can catch up. he presses his lips against hers, one hand hovering over her wrist in case she actually punches him. it was barely a second, enough to feel adrenaline hit before anything else, enough to feel her freeze.

then exactly as he predicted, she shoves him back and swings. he stumbles back a little and catches her wrist automatically, shaking his head once with an annoyed little click of his tongue.

"nah."

"don't fucking 'nah' me!" her voice bounces off the empty parking lot. "are you insane?! what the actual fuck—?!"

he's just grinning, his hold on her tight. adrenaline buzzes through him so fast, it makes him feel stupidly alive. the most important thing is that once again he feels that familiar spark going through him. something he missed. he can feel his dick just sligthly pulsing, like it was coming back to life.

she looks like she's ready to commit actual violence. "ya already got one free hit last year,” he says, letting go slowly. “m'setting boundaries.”

"boundaries?!" she repeats incredulously. "you fucking kissed me?!"

"yeah."

"yeah?!"

"and you shoved me, so we're even."

"you think?!"

she looks genuinely seconds away from exploding. he knows he should probably back up and stop pushing, so he takes a step closer instead. she's breathing hard from anger, cheeks flushed, wind slightly messing up her hair, eyes darting everywhere expect his face now, which unfortunately for her gave his confidence a second wind. "no," she says instantly, once she notices the look on his face.

"no, what?" he lifts an eyebrow.

"don't start looking fucking proud of yourself."

"you're kinda late."

she takes a deep breath, clenching her fists and looking around. he wonders if she realizes she's literally trapped between him and her own car.

for the first time in over a month, something in him feels switched back on, and he loves and hates how much relief is mixed into it. loves it, because he'll get what he wants, but hates that it's her again. he's gonna deal with it later.

she catches him staring and narrows her eyes. "don't," she mumbles, voice more pleasant now, but still sharp at the edges.

she didn't want to fold. she was fighting back, but she was losing that fight and it made chris realize that he wasn't the only one missing their sex sometimes. if he wasn't so selfish, he'd feel bad. maybe he'd even give up at this point and let her be, knowing she's better off without him.

he reached out to fix her hair instead, his hand moving to cup her jaw. she looked up and their eyes met, which was unfortunate for her, because he could see the exact moment her logic turned off.

she wasn't pushing him away even when their lips brushed again.

he doesn't even know which one closed the gap this time, but it sure as hell happened. this time she was kissing him back though.

the moment he feels that, something in him snaps. all the pent up frustration pours into that kiss. his hands are rough on her waist, one sliding up to grip the back of her neck, and he tilts his head a little, like a starving man. he was indeed starved for the past month. the second she lets his tongue into her mouth, he lets out a low groan into the kiss. he knew she'd cave eventually, that the fire between them never really died, just got buried under pride.

his tongue moves teasingly at first, but then it gets more aggressive. one of his hands slides down to cup her ass through her skirt, the other wandering under her top. he wasn't even gonna hide how desperate he was. no sex for over a month, not even being able to get off, it was real nightmare for him.

her purse almost slips off, the kiss getting sloppier, he nips at her bottom lip before diving back in again.

"keys..." he mumbles against her lips, not stopping the kiss for more than a second.

"hm?"

"open that fuckin' car."

"oh."

her hands are shaky as she tries to find the keys, but the second the car door clicks open, chris is on her, pushing her firmly into the backseat. the purse and keys forgotten somewhere, breath hot and uneven between messy kisses.

he's working for it.

not in a desperate, pathetic way, but with focus. like this is a mission and he’s not leaving until the objective is met— getting laid.

his hands slide up her thighs, pushing her skirt higher as his mouth trails from her jaw down to her collarbone and then lower, teasing and making her weak. it was sure as hell working, slowly but surely, he could feel the blood flow kicks where it's needed.

he knows he’s got her the moment her legs fall open on their own, betraying her. the hitch in her breath when his lips brush higher up her thigh is like music to his ears.

his mouth lingers on her inner thigh, slowly kissing higher, letting the tension build even if he can already feel the scent of her.

something stirs below.

it's maddening how hot that is.

he looks up, hooking two fingers into the waistband of her panties and starts pulling them down. "not gonna tell me to stop?" he asks, voice husky.

"stop talking," she mumbles.

he smirks against her skin, feeling the first real throb of arousal. not a full hard on, but close enough that he feels the pressure build with every second her body betrays her— breathing faster, hips twitching slightly under his touch. once that black lace is out of sight, he spreads her thighs wider, slowly licking up the center, tasting her. then he does it again with more pressure, because, fuck, she tastes good. he almost forgot.

for a first time in a month, his body finally reacts and he feels a real boner starting to form behind his sweats. the relief is immediate.

his hands grip her hips to keep her from squirming too much, when his lips tease her clit, before gently sucking on it. the moan that leaves her lips makes him dizzy with lust.

he loses track of time, minutes blur as he works his mouth, his tongue flicks skillfully over her swollen bud. she knocks his hat off, twisting her fingers into his hair, trying to pull him closer. his nose is buried into her soaked pussy, constantly putting just the right amount of pressure against her clit, making her moan his name out loud, her thighs tensing around his head. "oh my fuck," her breath hitches, looking down and catching his eyes already watching all of her reactions. he slowly pushes two fingers inside, testing if this still works on her after a year apart, knowing that used to wreck her every damn time.

"chris, fuck—" she squirms around. he hums, curling his fingers just right, all while keeping his mouth busy on her clit with suction and teasing flicks of tongue.

he can feel his cock getting rock hard, once she starts making more sounds, sounding so desperate and annoyed. her hips jerk upward towards his face and he smirks against her, suddenly stopping his movements. he's satisfied feeling that his dick is not broken and he can finally get some action.

"are you deadass—" she cuts herself off with a small gasp, when with one smooth motion he flips her onto her stomach without effort.

its been his favorite position, lets him see everything. the curve of her ass, the way her skirt is still bunched up high on her waist and it turns him the fuck on. "i absolutely am," he mutters, voice husky with lust. he pushes his sweats down along with his boxers just enough to free himself. he takes a second to stroke once over his length, before positioning himself behind her.

he almost forgot how good a boner can feel. it was throbbing and leaking with precum. "is this not a little pathetic? y'know, that you've folded so easily?" he slowly pushes in with a loud groan. he's been missing that feeling.

"fuck off," she replies, her voice cracking as she tries to adjust to his size. he licks his lips and frowns slightly, looking at the way her pussy squezzes around him.

"ah, she missed me, didn't she?" he tilts his head to the side, realizing it's been a while for her. he can tell. the way her body resists at first, like it remembers him but isn’t sure yet, sends a rush of something primal through his veins. not just lust, but maybe even pride.

he grits his teeth, jaw flexing as he fights the urge to thrust in all the way right then. instead, he stays still, buried halfway inside her. "fuck, looks like ya hadn't had other dick as big as me, huh?" he clicks his tongue. "she squeezes me so tight—"

"you're still so fucking full of yourself," she mutters, her voice cracking when he pushes all in.

here we go.

"mhm," he actually smiles, pulling almost all the way out, just to slam back into her hard with one deep thrust. "why wouldn't i be? just look how happy she is to see me, after a whole fuckass year. c'mon now."

the sudden, hard thrust knocks the breath out of her, forehead pressing into the seat, fingers curling against the leather as he bottoms out. he likes that pissed off tension in her body, the way she's mad at herself for how good it feels after a year without him. he likes that he can still do this to her with no effort.

so he does it again, harder this time, and starts a rhythm. deep, punishing strokes that make his hips snap forward with each movement. the car rocks slightly from the force of it. he leans forward, one hand bracing beside her head, the other sliding up to tangle in her hair, lifting her head up so he could see that wrecked face. eyes closed, brows pulled together, mouth falling open. he loves that shit.

"that guy— what was his name again? mason?" he breathes between thrusts. "he doesn't know how loud you get when i fuck ya right," he angles deeper, hitting her spot just right. her back arches on instinct, a loud, unrestrained moan escapes her.

fuckkkkk.

she couldn't hold back that noise, but it ripped out of her anyway, his smirk growing wider "y'gonna come so fast, hm?" he yanks on a fistful of hair, not enough to hurt, just enough to keep her exposed to him. he sees how close she is in the way she bites down on that bottom lip, like it can save her. "how often for the past year you hoped for this to happen again?" he murmurs above the sound of skin slapping skin and labored breathing. "bet you touched yourself thinkin' about it."

he can feel the exact moment she clenches around him and comes with a loud moan followed by, "i literally hate you", which only spurrs him on.

he stops counting how many times she hit that high, after her third one. it was even easier for him to slide in and out when she got so creamy.

he had a different problem now though, because he should've come already, but for some reason he couldn't. he started to get frustrated.

there's no way, that after over a month, when he finally got a boner and could fuck, now he can't get a release. "fuck," his hips slam with more force now, letting go of her hair just to grip her waist, so he could go even deeper. he's moving on autopilot, but there's no buildup and he's going actually insane.

in the span of the next ten minutes, he's getting two more orgasms from her, and he almost forgot how good it used to feel when he was able to make her do all that. pride shoots right into his ego, but there's also annoyance, not at her but at himself, because even when before he'd be making a mess all over himself, literally even after seeing her like this, now he just couldn't get off.

he curses under his breath and his movements come to a stop. he lets her take a breath as he pulls out, his dick throbbing and glistening with her juices. he sits back, breathing heavily, elbows resting on his knees as he stares straight ahead at the dashboard.

it pisses him off in a way that cuts deeper than frustration, it just feels wrong, like it's not him. like he's actually broken and he hates feeling out of control like this. he feels stupid and he can't turn his head off. the pressure and strees he's been dealing with lately, all alone, it was clearly getting to him more than he'd like to admit.

he looks up when she climbs onto his lap without a word, positioning herself before sinking down onto him, still pulsing from multiple orgasms. he lets out a slow breath through his nose as she settles over him completely, his hands sliding up to grip her hips again. he kind of wondered how much she's gonna hate herself once the rush of lust is over.

he clicks his tongue and smirks, playing it cool, even when he feels like an idiot. he couldn't tell if she realized he couldn't come. "desperate for it, aren't ya?"

“stop talking," she says again, starting to roll her hips and leaning in to crash her lips against his in an aggressive kiss.

the kiss is all teeth and frustration, just two people taking out a year of unresolved tension on each other’s mouths. he kisses back just as hard, like he’s mad that he had to come crawling back to feel something again.

her hips roll against his in sharp, deliberate motions. he groans into her mouth, each move of her body sends a jolt through him. "maybe you're the one desperate here," she breaks the kiss. "you decided to fucking bother me now. just couldn't hold back, huh? you never could when it came to me."

the corner of his mouth twitches, his hips lift slightly to meet hers as she rides him, the head of his cock hitting deep inside with every movement. "wanted to see if i can still make ya weak," he mutters back, feeling a slow coil tightening in his gut when she starts talking.

hm.

"and i can still make you hard," she shoots back. "and i can make you cum all over y'self."

fuck.

he hates that her words are working, crawling under his skin, lighting a fire he can’t control. not the kind of fire you get from lust alone, but something more annoying.

he grabs her ass with one hand and yanks her down onto him in a rough grind. the kind meant to shut her up with sensation instead of conversation. his breath hitches when she bites her lip, like she's holding back a sound, and suddenly he’s not playing anymore.

in one quick move, he flips her over so he's on top again, the car door creaking as it shifts with the weight change. he starts moving fast, no rhythm but pure need. "and i can still fuckin' make you cry," he speaks, each word punctuated with a deep thrust. "can still make you moan my name. make you come on my dick like a desperate slut."

"fuck you," she scoffs, hand gripping the seat for support.

"that's what we doin', baby."

he keeps provoking her to keep talking. "is it our reunion or goodbye fuck?" he asks, driving into her, no more patience left.

"a mistake fuck," she replies, voice shaking. she moans right after, dragging her nails across his back and he feels it through his shirt.

his dick twitches.

his jaw clenches as sweat starts to form on his brow, chasing that release that is just out of reach. "could be a mistake if we did it once," he mutters, looking down at her. "but this is a choice."

he's not sure if her cheeks are this red from pleasure or anger. "i wouldn't choose you even if they paid me."

"maybe not, but you'd sure as hell chose my dick."

"that's— fuckk— i can't.... stand you....—mhhhp, chris, fuck—!"

the moment she struggles to speak without making noises and clenches around him again, he feels his own release finally building rapidly, his breath coming in short bursts now. a low groan leaves him and then the familiar feeling crashes through his body for the first time in over a month. he buries himself to the hilt as thick ropes of cum burst from his tip, painting her insides. as it ripples through him, he slightly collapses over her from the intensity of his release, his body pulsing. it seems to go for a bit longer than usually, which could be pretty obvious for her to realize that it's been a while since he last orgasmed, but he completely ignores it, lost in the feeling.

finally he feels like himself again.

the car is quiet for a moment, just the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional creak as chris slowly lifts himself up and pulls out, yanking his sweats and boxers back up while she sits up, fixing her clothes.

they both look at each other at the same time by accident.

she looks away first, pretending to be busy with her skirt.

he does not like that awkwardness now. "so," he speaks, leaning back and dragging a hand through his hair. "another round when?"

she glares at him, "hopefully never."

"awh, c'mon," he clicks his tongue and smirks. "admit it's been a while since someone wrecked you this good."

"don't even say a word about this to anyone," she warns him.

"dammit, i can't brag?" he asks sarcastically, throwing his cap back onto his head.

"i'm serious."

"a'ight, m'not dumb. for real though, ya don't miss our little agreement?"

"you do?" she scoffs.

"can't lie, your pussy's like magic."

"oh god," she facepalms and opens the car door, getting out. he grins, following right after her.

"y'know, having someone who'd talk back t'you while your cock is deep in their gut is actually fun."

"please, actually stop talking," she mumbles, closing her car. he raises an eyebrow, "you goin' back there?"

she frowns, "what, like, inside?" she asks, pointing at the bar. he nods, making her snort in disbelief. "are you insane? they definitely can tell we aren't talking for, like, thirty minutes straight."

"maybe i'm a poet."

she exhales deeply, rolling her eyes and walking through the parking lot. "what, ya gonna walk?" he moves after her.

"can't really drive, can i?"

"what 'bout your car?"

"i'll pick it up tomorrow."

"i can call matt—"

"i said no one can know about this," she stops abruptly, turning around to face him and point her finger at him. "no one. not matt, not nate, not nick. especially not nick. no one."

"s'not that big of a deal."

"it is," she scoffs, walking again. "they don't need to know i have no self respect."

he raises his eyebrows, catching up to her. for him it was all fun and games anyway. "don't be so dramatic now, you had to think of it for a while, otherwise you wouldn't give in so easily."

she shrugs.

"bro, this is what we do, you want something, you take it. wanted to fuck and you did. makes us human."

"okay, shakespeare."

he smirks, narrowing his eyes, noticing that she's holding back a laugh.

okay, no, he can't be this lucky. maybe she was holding back a smile.

chris got what he wanted though and he didn't think about anything else. maybe he should have.

ৎ୭~ৎ୭~ৎ୭

[dykes4chris]

if i was matt’s gf i would read all your fics and boyfriend!matt headcanons and your smuts; then i would comment rating 1-10 on accuracy with an explanation just to shove it in everyone’s face

[alvaasturnxx]

✧ Late Night Sessions ✧

✧ chris sturniolo x reader

warning: explicit language (dirty talk), smut, physical intimacy, sensory descriptions of bodies/curves, slight needy Chris

summary: after working late at night, Chris decides it’s a good idea to see if you were still in the office only to lead into a very intimate moment in your office.

word count ~ 1,1k

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The hum of the studio was the only thing keeping you company. It was nearly 1:00 AM, and the dim, neon blue lights of the editing suite made everything feel soft and hazy. You shifted in your chair, the fabric of your tight leggings stretching over your wide hips, and let out a tired sigh. You were focused on the screen, your manicured nails clicking rhythmically against the desk as you scrolled through footage.

Being 5’2” meant you often felt small in these big studio chairs, but tonight, you felt a different kind of sensation: the prickle on the back of your neck that told you you weren't alone.

The heavy door creaked open. You didn't even have to turn around to know the stride. It was heavy, confident, and familiar.

"Still at it, Y/N?"

Chris’s voice was lower than usual, raspy from a long day of filming. You turned in your chair, looking up at him. Because of the height difference, you had to tilt your head back quite a bit, a movement that made your top dip slightly, revealing the curve of your chest.

Chris froze mid step. His eyes didn't go to your face first; they dropped. He watched the way your waist tapered in, the way your curves spilled over the edges of the chair, and the way your thighs looked pressed together. He cleared his throat, his gaze snapping back to your eyes, but the heat in them didn't fade.

"Just finishing this edit," you said, your voice a little breathier than you intended. "You’re out late."

"Yeah, I had to finish something up," he murmured, walking closer. He didn't stop at a respectful distance. He stepped right into your space, his thighs brushing against yours as he leaned over the desk. "Too much on my mind."

His eyes were dark, scanning your face before dropping down to your lips. The air between you felt thick, charged with a tension that had been building for months of banter and "accidental" touches.

"What's on your mind, Chris?" you whispered, your heart hammering against your ribs.

He didn't answer with words. Instead, he reached out, his large hand sliding from the desk to your waist. His fingers spread wide, his palms pressing into the soft curve of your hip, pulling you forward until your knees were tucked between his. He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. "You have no idea," he growled, his voice a low vibration that sent a shiver straight down your spine.

He tilted your head back, and then his mouth was on yours. It wasn't a gentle kiss; it was hungry and demanding, a release of all the suppressed energy between you. You let out a soft moan, your manicured nails digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer.

His hands began to wander, mapping out the body he had been dreaming of. He slid his palms down from your waist, over the swell of your hips, and gripped the underside of your thighs, lifting you slightly so you were pressed flush against him. The friction of his jeans against your leggings made your head spin.

"You're so beautiful," he muttered against your skin, his lips moving from your mouth to the sensitive line of your jaw, then down to the hollow of your throat. "The way you look in this light... the way you look in these clothes... it's driving me insane, Y/N."

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, his breathing heavy. He reached down, his hand sliding under the hem of your top, his warm palm making contact with the skin of your stomach. He traced the curve of your waist, his thumb grazing the underside of your breast. You gasped, arching your back, your chest heaving.

"Chris..." you breathed, your eyes fluttering shut.

"Tell me what you want," he commanded, his voice dropping an octave. He moved his hand higher, cupping the weight of your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple through the thin fabric. "Tell me you want me as bad as I want you."

"I want you," you confessed, the words tumbling out of you. "Please."

He didn't need to be told twice. In one fluid motion, he hoisted you up from the chair, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Your wide hips settled perfectly against him, and you could feel the hard length of him pressing against your heat. He carried you the short distance to the nearby sofa, laying you back against the cushions.

He hovered over you, a dark silhouette against the blue neon. He began to strip, his eyes never leaving yours, watching the way your eyes widened as he revealed his body. When he moved back over you, the sensation of skin on skin was electric.

His hands were everywhere on your thighs, pulling them wider, on your waist, holding you steady as he buried his face in your chest. He worshipped your body, his tongue swirling around your nipples, his teeth grazing them just enough to make you cry out his name. You felt small beneath him, but completely seen, completely adored.

As he moved lower, his hands slid under your hips, tilting you up to meet him. The intimacy was overwhelming, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. When he finally entered you, it was slow, a deep, grounding stretch that made you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down for a bruising kiss.

The rhythm was primal, a steady, driving force that matched the pounding of your hearts. Every thrust sent a wave of pleasure through you, your hips rising to meet his, your body reacting to his every movement. He was vocal, letting out low, guttural groans every time he felt you tighten around him, his hands bruising your hips as he drove deeper.

"Look at me," he whispered, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. You opened your eyes, seeing the raw intensity in his gaze. "Y/N, you're incredible. You feel so good."

The tension built until it was unbearable, a coil winding tighter and tighter in your gut. You felt the climax approaching, a tidal wave of sensation that threatened to pull you under. You gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin, as the world dissolved into pure, white heat.

He followed you a second later, his body tensing, a long, low groan escaping his lips as he collapsed against you, his forehead resting against yours. The only sound in the room was the heavy, synchronized rhythm of your breathing.

He didn't pull away. He stayed there, wrapped around you, his hands still resting possessively on your hips. He leaned up, kissing your temple, his voice a soft, satisfied murmur.

"Don't think you're going home anytime soon," he whispered, a playful, dark smirk tugging at his lips. "We're just getting started."

He shifted his weight, propping himself up on his elbows so he could look down at you, his eyes dark and heavy with a renewed hunger. The initial release had left you breathless and trembling, your skin flushed and sensitive to the slightest touch, but the way he was looking at you told you he wasn't anywhere near finished.

"You think you're done?" he teased, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated against your chest. He began to trail slow, agonizingly light kisses down the center of your stomach, his stubble grazing your soft skin and making you squirm beneath him. "We haven't even gotten to the best part yet."

His hands, large and warm, slid down to the insides of your thighs, spreading them even wider, forcing you to feel the cool air of the studio against your heated skin before his palms replaced the chill. He began to move again, but this time it was slower, more deliberate. He was taking his time, exploring every curve, every dip of your waist, and the swell of your hips as if he were trying to memorize you by touch alone.

When he entered you again, it was with a slow, torturous grind that made your toes curl into the sofa cushions. You let out a high, needy whimper, your head tossing back as you searched for friction. "Chris, please... faster," you pleaded, your voice cracking.

"Not yet," he whispered, his teeth catching your earlobe. "I want to feel you melt for me first."

He began to pick up the pace, his movements becoming more rhythmic and intense. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the quiet room, punctuating the heavy, frantic sounds of your breathing. You felt completely consumed by him by the weight of his body, the strength in his arms as he held you steady, and the sheer, overwhelming sensation of him filling you.

Your manicured nails traced frantic patterns up his back, your body arching instinctively toward him, trying to close every millimeter of space between you. The friction was building, a feverish heat coiling in your lower belly, tighter and tighter until it felt like you might shatter.

"That's it, Y/N... just like that," he groaned, his composure finally breaking. His pace turned primal, his thrusts deep and unyielding. He gripped your hips with a possessive force, his thumbs digging into your skin as he drove you both toward the edge.

The world narrowed down to just the two of you the neon blue light, the scent of his cologne, and the electric, soul shaking friction of your bodies colliding. When the second wave hit, it was even more violent than the first, a crashing explosion of pleasure that left you sobbing his name into the crook of his neck. He followed you instantly, his body shuddering with a powerful, long lasting release that left him breathless and spent, buried deep inside you as the tension finally bled out of the room.

As the silence returned, heavy and sweet, he didn't move. He simply collapsed onto you, his heart drumming a frantic rhythm against your own, his arms wrapped around you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. He pressed a lingering, tender kiss to your forehead, his breath still coming in ragged gasps.

"Told you," he murmured, a sleepy, triumphant grin tugging at his lips as he pulled the edge of a nearby throw blanket over your trembling bodies. "We're just getting started."

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✧ taglist: @courta13 @summerupdup @calumnooddilf

[alvaasturnxx]

✧ what to do ✧

✧ chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: angst, emotional vulnerability, trust issues, heartbreak mentions, needy!chris, slight miscommunication, fear of commitment, comfort, soft ending, emotional conversations

summary: after being hurt by your ex, love feels impossible — and no matter how hard chris tries, you keep him at arm’s length. but when he finally admits how much your distance hurts him, you’re forced to ask yourself if maybe loving him isn’t something to be afraid of.

word count: ~2.5k

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Chris had been in love with you for months. The kind of love that settled in quietly at first. Nothing dramatic. Nothing obvious.

Just small things.

The way he started saving the last sip of his drink because he knew you’d ask for it. The way he stopped sleeping properly because somehow he got used to your late-night calls. The way every hoodie he owned slowly ended up in your apartment and somehow..

he never asked for them back.

Because if they smelled like you, maybe he didn’t mind. Maybe he liked it too much. That was the problem. Chris liked you too much.

And you—

you liked him too. Just not enough to let him in.

Or maybe—

you were too scared to try.

You had a habit of showing up at his house late. Always late. Like the world felt easier after midnight. Sometimes you couldn’t sleep. Sometimes you just “didn’t wanna be alone.”

And Chris—

Chris never said no.

Didn’t matter if it was one in the morning. Didn’t matter if he had plans.

Didn’t matter if he was exhausted.

Because if it was you?

He answered.

Every single time.

Tonight was no different.

You sat cross-legged at the end of his bed wearing one of his hoodies, sleeves covering your hands while some random movie played in the background neither of you were actually watching.

Chris sat beside you, head tilted back against the wall, watching you instead.

He always watched you.

Not in a weird way.

Just—

like he was trying to memorize something he thought he might lose.

You were tired tonight.

Quiet.

Picking at loose threads on the sleeve.

And he knew that look.

Something was bothering you.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

You shrugged.

“Just thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

That got the tiniest smile out of you.

Still—

something felt off.

Chris could tell.

He always could.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You hesitated.

Then sighed quietly.

“I just don’t really get how people do this.”

His brows pulled together.

“Do what?”

“Relationships,” you muttered. “Love.”

The room got quieter after that.

Because Chris knew where this conversation came from.

Your ex.

The one who wrecked everything.

The one who made trusting people feel impossible.

You didn’t talk about it much.

But when you did—

Chris listened.

Always.

“It just feels stupid,” you continued quietly. “You give someone everything and then one day they just…”

You paused.

Your fingers twisted in the sleeve.

“…Leave.”

Chris swallowed.

Because he knew.

He knew how bad it messed you up.

Knew why every time things between you started feeling real—

you pulled away.

Why every soft moment ended with:

I don’t want anything serious.

Or:

I’m just not good at relationships.

Like warnings.

Like little signs telling him not to get attached.

Too late.

Way too late.

“i'm not him.”

The words slipped out before he meant to say them.

You looked over.

“What?”

Chris rubbed a hand over his face.

“You talk like everyone’s gonna hurt you the same way.”

“I don’t know,” you muttered. “Maybe they will.”

He looked at you for a second.

Really looked at you.

Messy hair.

His hoodie.

Bare face.

Curled up in his bed like this was the safest place you knew.

And god—

sometimes he didn’t know what to do with that.

Because you trusted him enough to stay.

Just not enough to stay for real.

“You trust me though,” he said quietly.

Your expression softened slightly.

“Chris…”

“No, seriously.”

He sat up a little straighter now.

“You call me when you can’t sleep. You come here when things get hard. You wear my clothes, steal my food, lay in my bed like it’s yours—”

A tiny smile pulled at your mouth.

“You said I could steal your food.”

“That’s not the point.”

His voice softened again.

“You trust me with everything except this.”

The smile disappeared.

And suddenly—

the room felt smaller.

Too honest.

Too real.

“I just don’t wanna ruin things,” you admitted quietly.

Chris frowned.

“You think loving me ruins things?”

“No,” you said quickly. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?”

You looked away.

Like you were embarrassed.

Like the answer felt stupid out loud.

“I’m scared,” you whispered.

And there it was.

The truth.

Raw.

Small.

Painfully honest.

Chris’s chest tightened immediately.

Because he knew.

He knew you were scared.

But some selfish part of him—

the part that missed you even when you were sitting right beside him—

was getting tired.

Tired of almost.

Tired of feeling like your person without actually being allowed to be.

“You know what’s messed up?” he said quietly.

Your eyes flicked back to him.

“What?”

Chris laughed once.

Not a happy laugh.

The tired kind.

“The way I’m sitting here actin’ like this doesn’t kill me.”

Your brows furrowed slightly.

“What?”

He looked down at his hands.

Because suddenly saying this out loud felt pathetic.

But he couldn’t stop anymore.

“I like you,” he said quietly. “Like really like you.”

You went still.

“And I know you’re scared,” he continued. “I know what happened to you sucked and I know why you act like this, I get it.”

His jaw tightened slightly.

“But I don’t know what else to do anymore.”

The room went silent.

“I’m tryin’ so hard not to push you,” he admitted. “But sometimes it feels like you let me care about you when it’s convenient.”

Ouch.

Your face fell immediately.

“Chris…”

“You come here when you’re sad. When you can’t sleep. When life gets hard.” His voice softened. “And I love bein’ there for you.”

The word slipped out.

Love.

Not love you.

But close enough.

Close enough to make your chest ache.

“But then the second this feels real,” he continued quietly, “you pull away.”

He looked over at you finally.

Eyes tired.

Hurt.

“And I’m just sittin’ here wonderin’ what I’m supposed to do with all of this.”

God.

You hated hearing him sound hurt.

Especially when you knew—

deep down—

he was right.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you whispered.

Chris’s expression softened instantly.

“Do what?”

“This,” you admitted quietly. “Trusting someone.”

The vulnerability in your voice made something in him crack.

Because suddenly—

he wasn’t frustrated anymore.

Just sad for you.

Slowly, carefully—

he reached for your hand.

Like he was giving you room to pull away.

You didn’t.

“You don’t gotta know how,” he said quietly.

Your eyes lifted to his.

“Then what if I mess it up?”

Chris smiled sadly.

“Baby,” he muttered softly, thumb brushing over your knuckles, “we’ll probably both mess it up.”

That made you laugh quietly through the heaviness.

“But…”

He hesitated.

Then squeezed your hand slightly.

“You could at least let me try.”

The room went quiet again.

Not awkward.

Just—

full.

Heavy.

Honest.

And for the first time in a long time—

the idea of love didn’t feel terrifying.

Not completely.

Not sitting beside him.

“…Okay,” you whispered finally.

Chris blinked.

“Okay?”

You nodded once.

Small.

Terrified.

“But you gotta be patient with me.”

And for the first time all night—

he smiled properly.

Soft.

Relieved.

Like maybe he’d finally stopped losing you before he ever had you.

“I can do patient,” he said quietly.

Then after a second—

“…Probably.”

You laughed.

And somehow—

that felt like a start.

---------------------------

✧ taglist: @courta13 @summerupdup @calumhooddilf

[humpster35]

This is footage of him going to fuck reader after she kept teasing him

[chrismyeyesonly]

The way he just took his shirt off so fast is a big turn on like fuck dada fat mane ready 😣

[alvaasturnxx]

✧ pay attention to me ✧

✧ Matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: slight mean!Matt??, language, bratty reader, teasing, clingy behavior, fluff, bickering

summary: all you wanted was Matt’s attention… but apparently, whatever he was doing mattered way more — until he realizes maybe he was being a little too dismissive.

word count: ~1.6k

You had been trying to get Matt’s attention for the past seven minutes.Not that you were counting.

Okay, maybe you were. But in your defense, he’d barely acknowledged you once.

He sat at the edge of the bed, hoodie sleeves pushed up, completely focused on untangling a mess of wires from his gaming setup after complaining for an hour that “nothing in this room ever works.” His brows were slightly furrowed, jaw tight with concentration, muttering quiet complaints under his breath every few seconds.

Meanwhile, you sat beside him, practically folding into yourself from boredom.

“Matt,” you tried softly, scooting a little closer.

“Hm.”

That was it.

No glance. No eye contact. Not even a proper response. Just a distracted hum like he was talking to background noise.

You frowned slightly.

“I’m trying to tell you something.”

“M’listening,” he muttered, though he clearly wasn’t.

“You literally aren’t.”

“I am,” he said, still focused. “Keep talkin’.”

You stared at the side of his face.

Actually stared.

Because there was no way he thought that counted as listening.You shifted closer, knees brushing against his leg this time.

“Baby.”

Nothing.

A quiet sigh left you as your excitement slowly started turning into irritation. You had something to show him. Something exciting. And he was acting like rewiring whatever random thing he’d broken mattered more.

You poked his shoulder gently.

“Matt.”

His jaw tightened slightly. “Kid,” he muttered, voice quieter this time, “don’t start.”

Your brows pinched together immediately.

“Don’t start what?”

“I’m busy.”

The words came out sharper than you expected. Not mean, exactly.

Just impatient.

Enough to make your face fall a little.

“Oh,” you muttered quietly.

That stung more than it should’ve.

You looked down at your hands for a second, fingers twisting in the fabric of the blanket.

Fine.

Whatever.

You’d just tell him later.

But then he sighed under his breath again, muttering something annoyed at the wires, completely forgetting you were even there.

And suddenly..

No.

Actually, no.

Because now you were annoyed.

You nudged his arm again.

Harder this time.

“Matt.”

He closed his eyes for a second.

Slowly.

Like he was trying very hard not to lose patience.

“What?”

“You’re ignoring me.”

“I’m not ignoring you.”

“You literally are.”

His head tilted back slightly.

“Baby, I’m doing something.”

“You’ve been doing something forever.”

“It’s been ten minutes.”

“That’s forever!”

Matt looked over finally.

Actually looked at you.

And immediately regretted it.

Because you had that expression.

The dramatic one.

The pout.

The slightly narrowed eyes.

The you’re in trouble look.

“Oh my god,” he muttered. “You’re pouting.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m annoyed.”

“You’re dramatic.”

You crossed your arms.

“Well maybe if my boyfriend paid attention to me for once..”

Matt groaned quietly, rubbing a hand over his face.

“There she goes.”

“You’re rude.”

“And you’re clingy.”

Your mouth dropped slightly.

“Clingy?”

“Yes,” he said, way too casually. “You can’t survive five minutes without attention.”

“That is not true.”

“You’re literally proving my point.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

For a second, neither of you said anything.

Then—

Fine.

You’d just show him.

Without another word, you held your hand out dramatically.

Matt blinked.

“…What am I lookin’ at?”

“The thing.”

“What thing?”

You frowned harder.

“The bracelet!”

His eyes dropped to your wrist.

A small silver bracelet sat there, catching the light slightly.

The one you spent forever choosing.

The one you’d been ridiculously excited to show him.

Matt stared for a second.

Then another.

Then—

“…This,” he said slowly, “is what you’ve been harassing me over?”

You gasped.

“Harassing?!”

He laughed quietly despite himself.

“You’ve been fightin’ me for ten minutes over jewelry.”

“It’s cute!”

“You cried over this, didn’t you?”

“No!”

The silence that followed made your expression crack immediately.

“…Maybe a little.”

Matt actually laughed then.

A real laugh.

The kind that made the annoyance leave his face completely.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, finally setting everything aside.

“But is it cute?”

He reached for your wrist without thinking, turning it slightly to look closer.

His thumb brushed lightly against your skin.

“…Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “It’s cute.”

Your whole expression changed instantly.

“See!”

“But,” he added, already smirking, “you’re still annoying.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You’re lucky I like you.”

“Yeah?” he said, finally leaning back against the bed. “You were just about ready to start a fight.”

“I almost did.”

“I know.”

Before you could say anything else, Matt grabbed your wrist again, pulling you closer until you bumped lightly into his side.

“C’mere,” he muttered. “You got your attention. Happy now?”

You tried to stay dramatic for at least another second.

“…Maybe.”

He sighed.

“So difficult for no reason.”

But his arm stayed around you anyway.

And this time—

when you started talking—

he actually listened.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

✧ taglist: @courta13 @summerupdup

[alvaasturnxx]

✧ back2love ✧

✧ chris sturniolo x reader ✧

warnings: angst, breakup themes, emotional tension, unresolved feelings, yearning, slight fluff, mentions of arguments, exes to… maybe lovers again? summary: months after your breakup, chris still can’t seem to let you go. when an unknown number calls and old feelings start resurfacing, neither of you are sure if this is really the end...or just a pause. word count: ~2.3k

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

The breakup never really felt official. Not in the dramatic way people expected. There wasn’t screaming. No blocked numbers. No dramatic don’t ever talk to me again.

Just..

distance.

Silence.

Too many arguments that ended in both of you shutting down instead of saying what you actually meant. And eventually, one random Tuesday night—

you both stopped trying.

That was somehow worse.

Because nothing actually happened.

Yet somehow—

everything changed.

Summer felt weird after that.

Empty.

Chris hated summer now. Mostly because it reminded him of you.

Because last summer—

you practically lived at his house.

Stealing hoodies.

Leaving hair ties everywhere.

Complaining when he stayed up gaming too late.

Now?

The house just felt too quiet.

Too clean.

Too normal.

And Chris hated normal.

You’d been out of town most of the summer.

He knew because Nick mentioned it casually one day.

“Saw y/n posted,” Nick said from the couch. “She’s still in Sweden or whatever.”

Chris tried to act like he didn’t care.

“Oh.”

But later—

he checked anyway.

Of course he did.

Stupid beach pictures.

Random sunsets.

A blurry mirror selfie.

You looked happy.

Or at least—

good at pretending.

The first month after the breakup?

Chris was angry.

Not at you.

Just—

everything.

The second month?

Worse.

Because the anger faded.

And suddenly—

he just missed you.

Missed texting you random things.

Missed hearing your voice in the kitchen.

Missed dumb arguments about nothing.

Even the annoying stuff.

Especially the annoying stuff.

Then one night—

his phone rang.

Unknown number. Chris almost ignored it.

Almost.

But something—

some stupid feeling in his chest.

made him answer.

“…Hello?”

Silence.

Then—

“Hey.”

His stomach dropped.

Immediately.

Your voice.

Soft.

Careful.

Like you weren’t sure if you were still allowed to sound familiar.

“…Y/n?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Uh… I got a new number.”

Chris sat up straighter.

“Oh.”

Good start.

Real smooth.

A pause.

The awkward kind.

The kind neither of you used to have.

Back then—

talking to you felt easy.

Now?

Everything felt weird.

Fragile.

Like both of you were pretending not to step on broken glass.

“I still have your stuff,” you said eventually.

Chris frowned slightly.

“My stuff?”

“Yeah,” you laughed quietly. “Your hoodie. Charger. Some random things.”

Something about that made his chest hurt.

Because getting his stuff back felt—

final.

Too final.

Like once he got everything back, there’d officially be no reason to talk anymore.

“No rush,” you added quickly. “Just thought I should tell you.”

Chris leaned back against the wall.

“…You were out of town.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

The second the words left his mouth—

he regretted them.

Too honest.

Too pathetic.

Silence.

Then softer...

“Chris…”

God.

The way you still said his name.

Like you cared.

Like maybe this still hurt for you too.

“There wasn’t someone else,” you said suddenly.

He blinked.

“What?”

“The breakup,” you said quietly. “I just—I didn’t want you thinking it was because of someone.”

Chris looked down.

Because yeah.

He wondered.

Late at night.

Too many times.

But he knew you.

You weren’t like that.

“You know me,” you said quietly.

And somehow—

that made everything worse.

Because he did know you.

Too well.

“…Yeah,” he muttered. “I know.”

Another silence.

Neither of you hung up.

Neither of you really wanted to.

But neither of you knew what to say either.

Finally—

“I’ll drop your stuff off sometime,” you said softly.

Chris swallowed.

“…Okay.”

Another pause.

Then—

“Take care of yourself?” you asked.

And for some reason..that almost ruined him.

Because it sounded too familiar.

Too much like before.

“…You too.”

The call ended.

But somehow...

he missed you worse after hearing your voice.

Three weeks later—

you showed up.

At his house.

Unannounced.

Holding a bag with his stuff. Chris genuinely thought he imagined you at first. Standing there in one of those oversized hoodies. Hair messy from the wind.

Looking—

too familiar.

Too normal.

Like no time had passed.

“…Hey,” you said quietly.

His throat went dry.

“Hey.”

God.

This was weird.

You held the bag up awkwardly.

“Your stuff.”

“Oh.”

Right.

The stuff.

Chris took it.

Didn’t look inside. Didn’t care what was in it. Because all he could think was—

don’t leave yet.

“You can come in if you want,” he said too quickly.

Then immediately regretted sounding desperate.

But you hesitated.

“…Just for a little.”

And somehow—

that felt dangerous.

Nothing felt normal.

But somehow..

everything felt normal.

You sat in the kitchen like you always used to.

Complained that his house was cold.

Took your shoes off without asking.

Like muscle memory.

Like your body still knew this place.

Chris hated how easy it felt. And hated even more how hard it was pretending it didn’t matter.

You talked.

Small things.

Safe things.

Until eventually..

the silence got heavier.

Realer.

“You look tired,” you said quietly.

Chris laughed once.

“Thanks.”

“No,” you smiled slightly. “I just mean…”

You stopped.

Like you didn’t know if you were allowed to care anymore.

“…Are you okay?”

And there it was.

That stupid question.

The one he knew he shouldn’t answer honestly.

But did anyway.

“…Not really.”

You looked down.

Like maybe you already knew.

“…Me neither.”

Ouch.

Silence.

Heavy.

Familiar.

“You ever think we rushed this?” Chris asked suddenly.

Your brows furrowed.

“What?”

“The breakup.”

The words hung there.

Dangerous.

Because once you said things out loud—

you couldn’t take them back.

You looked away.

“…Sometimes.”

Chris swallowed hard.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

Then quieter—

“I think we stopped talking,” you admitted. “And then suddenly everything felt broken.”

Chris nodded.

Because that was exactly it. Nothing huge happened.

You just—

lost each other slowly.

“You know what sucks?” Chris muttered.

“What?”

“You’re still the first person I wanna call.”

Your breath caught. The room went quiet. Because that felt too honest.

Too real.

Chris laughed quietly after a second.

“…That sounded embarrassing.”

“No,” you said softly.

“It didn’t.”

And suddenly...

for the first time in months, it didn’t feel over.

Not completely.

Not yet.

Like maybe..Just maybe you were both still standing in the doorway of something.

Not together.

But not gone either.

Outside—

the sun was starting to go down.

Neither of you noticed.

Neither of you moved.

Like leaving meant admitting this wasn’t yours anymore.

And neither of you seemed ready for that.

Yet.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

✧ taglist: @summerupdup @courta13

[charmersturns]

christopher sturniolo. YOU WHORE.

ohhh my FUCK 😩😩

in my honest opinion….

[alvaasturnxx]

Hiiii girl, can I plss be added to your taglist?? <3

Yessss offcccc!

[alvaasturnxx]

✧ don’t look at me like that ✧

✧ chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: tension, jealousy, arguments, kissing, mean!chris, language summary: at a crowded party, you can’t stop watching chris… and when jealousy takes over, things get a little too intense. word count: ~1.4k

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

The music was too loud. Bass vibrating through the floor, people packed too close together, voices blending into one messy blur. You shouldn’t have come. You knew that the second you walked in. But he was here.

Chris.

And for some reason, that was enough to keep you planted in the same room as him. Even if it meant watching him.

With her.

Your jaw tightened slightly as you leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying to look uninterested.

Trying.

Failing.

Because your eyes kept drifting back to him.

Laughing.

Talking.

Standing way too close to someone who definitely wasn’t you.

“…You’re staring,” your friend muttered beside you.

“I’m not.”

“You literally haven’t looked away in five minutes.”

You scoffed. “I don’t care.”

“Right,” they said. “That’s why you look like you wanna fight someone.”

You didn’t respond.

Because maybe you did. Across the room, Chris tilted his head slightly, saying something that made the girl in front of him laugh.

Your stomach twisted.

God, he was so...

Annoying.

Cocky.

Too comfortable.

Like he didn’t even notice you were there.

Or worse!

Like he did, and didn’t care.

Your nails pressed into your arm.

“…I’m getting a drink,” you muttered, pushing yourself off the wall.

“Sure you are,” your friend said, not believing you for a second.

You barely heard them.

Because the second you started moving..

your eyes were on him again.

And this time—

he noticed.

Chris’s gaze flicked toward you, locking in for just a second. Just enough. That stupid, knowing look crossed his face. Like he’d caught you.

You rolled your eyes immediately, looking away.

But it was too late. Because now he knew.

You made it halfway across the room before he cut you off.

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” Chris said, stepping in front of you like he owned the space.

You stopped, looking up at him.

“Didn’t think I needed your permission.”

He smirked slightly. “You don’t.”

“Good.”

Silence.

But not a comfortable one. His eyes scanned your face, like he was trying to read something you refused to give him.

“…You’ve been staring,” he said.

You let out a short laugh. “You wish.”

“Don’t lie,” he tilted his head. “I saw you.”

“Congrats.”

You tried to move past him.

He didn’t let you.

“Problem?” he asked.

Your patience snapped just a little.

“No,” you said. “Why would I have a problem?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Just looked at you.

Then—

“Because you look like you do.”

Your jaw tightened.

“…You think everything’s about you,” you muttered.

“Not everything,” he said. “Just this.”

That did it.

“Are you serious?” you snapped, stepping closer. “You’re over there acting like—like—”

“Like what?” he challenged.

You hesitated.

Because you didn’t even know how to explain it without sounding exactly like what you were trying not to be.

Jealous.

Chris noticed. Of course he did.

A slow smile spread across his face.

“…Oh,” he said quietly. “That’s what this is.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You are.”

“I’m not,” you repeated, grabbing his wrist without thinking.

“Then why are you dragging me somewhere?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You didn’t answer.

Just pulled him through the crowd, straight down the hallway, and into the nearest bathroom. The door shut behind you with a click.

Silence.

Finally.

Chris leaned back against the door, arms crossing.

“Alright,” he said. “What’s your problem?”

You turned to face him, chest rising and falling a little too fast.

“You’re my problem,” you said.

He scoffed lightly. “That sounds like a you issue.”

You stepped closer.

“You think you’re funny?”

“I think you’re obvious,” he shot back.

Your eyes narrowed.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing out there.”

“What, talking?” he said. “Crazy concept.”

“You know what I mean.”

He tilted his head slightly, watching you.

“…Why do you care?”

The question hit harder than it should have.

You hesitated.

Just for a second.

Then—

“I don’t,” you said quickly.

Chris didn’t believe you.

Not even a little.

“You dragged me in here for nothing then?” he asked.

You stepped even closer now, barely any space left between you.

“Maybe I just wanted to remind you,” you said.

“Remind me of what?”

You held his gaze.

“That you’re not as untouchable as you think.”

For a second..

he didn’t say anything.

Didn’t move.

Just looked at you like he was trying to figure you out all over again.

Then—

a small, amused smile tugged at his lips.

“…You’re insane,” he muttered.

“And you’re annoying,” you shot back.

Silence again.

But this time..different.

Tighter. Charged.

Chris pushed himself off the door slightly, closing the distance completely now.

“Still not jealous?” he asked quietly.

You held your ground.

“Still not everything’s about you?”

He laughed softly.

“…You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re still here,” you said.

Another pause.

Then—

“…Yeah,” he admitted.

And for once—

he didn’t look away first..

But the silence in the bathroom didn’t feel quiet anymore.

It felt loud.

Like everything you weren’t saying was pressing between you, filling up the space until there was barely any air left.

Chris was still standing close.

Too close.

Close enough that if either of you moved even a little, it would mean something.

“…You’re still staring,” he murmured.

You swallowed. “You started it.”

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly. “You dragged me in here.”

“Because you were being annoying.”

“Or,” he said, voice dropping just a little, “because you couldn’t stand seeing me with someone else.”

Your chest tightened.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I don’t have to,” he replied. “You’re doing it for me.”

You rolled your eyes but you didn’t step back.

Didn’t break eye contact.

And he noticed.

Of course he did.

“…You gonna do something,” he said softly, “or just keep talking?”

Your heart skipped.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “you look like you wanna say something. Or do something. But you won’t.”

That hit something in you.

Something stubborn.

Something that refused to back down.

“…You think I won’t?” you asked.

Chris shrugged, watching you carefully. “I know you won’t.”

A pause.

Then—

you stepped closer. Close enough that there was no space left at all. For a second, neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

It was just..

breathing.

Eye contact.

Tension that had nowhere left to go. Chris’s expression shifted, just slightly. Less amused. More focused.

“…Careful,” he murmured.

“Why?” you shot back, quieter now.

“Because you don’t start things you can’t finish.”

Your breath caught.

That was it.

That was the moment.

Before you could think..

you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down.

The kiss wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t slow.

It was messy, sudden, like everything you’d been holding back finally snapped at once.

Chris froze for half a second...then kissed you back just as hard.

Like he’d been waiting for it.

His hand came up to your jaw, steadying you, pulling you closer instead of pushing you away. “Thought you didn’t care,” he muttered against your lips.

“You talk too much,” you shot back, barely pulling away before kissing him again.

A quiet laugh left him, but it didn’t last long.

Because the tension didn’t disappear.

it shifted.

Got heavier.

Closer.

More real.

Your back hit the wall lightly, and for a second you almost forgot where you were.

The music outside.

The people.

Everything.

It was just him.

“…Still not jealous?” he asked, voice lower now.

You didn’t answer.

You just looked at him.

And that was enough.

Because the way his expression changed.

you knew he understood.

His hand tightened slightly where it rested, like he was debating something. Like he was right on the edge of saying something he wouldn’t be able to take back.

“…You’re trouble,” he said finally.

You smiled, just a little. “And you’re still here.”

A pause.

Then—

he leaned in again.

Slower this time.

Closer.

Like he wasn’t rushing anymore. Like he wanted to feel it.

And right before your lips met again—

the sound of voices echoed from outside the door.

Laughter.

Footsteps.

Too close.

Too real.

You both froze for a second.

Still inches apart.

Still caught in the moment.

Chris let out a quiet breath, his forehead almost brushing yours.

“…We should probably stop,” he murmured.

You didn’t move.

“Probably.”

Neither of you stepped back.

Not yet.

And for a second.

it felt like neither of you wanted to.

and what happens next…

well, that’s up to you. ᭝ ᨳଓ ՟

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

✧ taglist: @summerupdup

[alvaasturnxx]

✧ priorities ✧ Part 1??

warnings: suggestive themes, mean!chris, language, teasing, bratty reader, fluff summary: after an intimate moment, chris immediately chooses gaming over you… which leads to a very dramatic (and slightly funny) reaction. word count: 1.1k

ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩

The air in the room was thick, smelling of salt and the heavy, metallic tang of spent friction. You layed sprawled against the tangled sheets, your thighs still trembling from the force of him, skin flushed a deep, feverish pink. You waited for the familiar weight of his chest to settle against her back, for the soft murmur of aftercare that usually followed his frantic intensity.

Chris was right next to you.

For like… two seconds.

Then—

“Alright,” he muttered, already pulling away.

You blinked.

“Wait...what?”

Before you could even process it, he’d completely untangled himself from you, swinging his legs off the bed like nothing just happened.

“…Chris?”

He didn’t answer.

Just walked over to his setup, dropped into his chair, and grabbed his headset.

You stared at him.

Actually stared.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Yeah,” he said casually, adjusting the mic. “My game started.”

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, disbelief written all over your face. “Your game started?”

“Mhm.”

You let out a short laugh. “Oh my god, you’re actually insane.”

Chris smirked slightly, eyes already glued to the screen. “Relax, baby. You’ll survive.”

“Will I?” you shot back, sitting up properly now, clutching the blanket around you. “Because I feel a little abandoned right now.”

“Dramatic,” he muttered.

You narrowed your eyes.

“Oh, I’m dramatic?” you repeated. “You literally just left me mid cuddle to go play your little game.”

“It’s not ‘little,’” he said, focused. “And you’re fine.” before turning around to face you for a sec "and for the record, we werent cuddling" he said, a cocky grin forming on his face before turning back and looked at his PC again.

You stared at the back of his head for a second.

Then grabbed your phone.

“Oh, this is actually insane,” you mumbled, opening your camera.

Chris didn’t even turn around. “What are you doing?”

“Recording this,” you said. “Because no one is going to believe how stupid you are.”

That got a reaction.

He glanced over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “You’re recording me?”

“Yes,” you said sweetly. “Say hi.”

“Turn that off.”

“Mm, no.”

You zoomed in slightly, trying not to laugh. “Guys, this is my boyfriend, by the way. Leaves me and immediately starts gaming. No shame.”

Chris scoffed. “You’re so annoying.”

“And you’re a bad boyfriend,” you shot back, grinning now.

“I’m not a bad boyfriend,” he said. “You’re just clingy.”

Your mouth dropped. “Clingy?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Can’t go two seconds without me.”

You gasped, half offended, half amused. “Oh my god. You’re actually evil.”

He smirked, clearly entertained now. “And you love it.”

You rolled your eyes, flopping back dramatically onto the bed. “Unbelievable. I deserve better.”

“Go find better then,” he muttered, turning back to his screen.

You went quiet for a second.

Then, softer but still dramatic—

“Wow… you’d really let me leave like that?”

Chris paused.

Just for a second.

You noticed.

“…That’s crazy,” you added, pouting now even though he couldn’t fully see it. “After everything we’ve been through.”

“We’ve been through nothing,” he said, but there was a hint of a smile in his voice.

You sat up again, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re actually the worst.”

“And you’re still here,” he replied.

You huffed, crossing your arms.

“…I hate you.”

“Sure you do, baby.”

A pause.

Then you spoke again, quieter this time.

“…You’re really not gonna come back?”

Chris didn’t answer right away.

You watched him, waiting.

Waiting.

“…Chris.”

He sighed, dragging his hands down his face before pushing his chair back slightly.

“You’re so needy,” he muttered, but he was already standing up.

You tried to hide your smile. “I’m not needy.”

“You literally are,” he said, walking back over. “You couldn’t even last five minutes.”

You shrugged, trying to stay bratty. “Maybe I just like attention.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said.

Before you could respond, he grabbed your arm gently and pulled you back down onto the bed.

“Stop moving,” he muttered as you let out a small laugh.

“You came back,” you teased.

“Don’t make it a big deal,” he said, laying down beside you again. “You were getting annoying.”

“Mmhm.”

He rolled his eyes, pulling you closer anyway, your back pressed lightly against his chest.

“Happy now?” he asked.

You hummed. “A little.”

“A little?” he repeated. “That’s all you get.”

You smiled to yourself, relaxing into him.

“…You still suck,” you mumbled.

“And you’re still here,” he shot back.

But his arm stayed wrapped around you—

like he wasn’t going anywhere this time.

ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩ᢉ𐭩

Might post part 2 on friday idrkk ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

[alvaasturnxx]

✧ don’t ignore me ✧

✧ chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: angst, slight mean behavior, language, soft comfort summary: you wake up from a nightmare and go to chris for comfort… but he’s not exactly in the mood. word count: 1.1k

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

You woke up with your heart pounding. The room was dark, quiet in that suffocating way that made everything feel worse. Your breathing was uneven, chest tight, the dream still clinging to you like it didn’t want to let go.

For a second, you just lay there. Then you turned your head.

Chris.

Dead asleep. Completely relaxed, like nothing in the world could touch him. His arm was thrown over his pillow, lips slightly parted, breathing slow and steady. Your brows pulled together.

Of course he was fine.

“…Chris,” you whispered, reaching over and brushing your fingers against his arm.

Nothing.

You nudged him a little harder. “Chris.”

He groaned immediately, face scrunching up in annoyance as he shifted. “What,” he muttered, voice low and rough.

You hesitated for a second.

“I had a bad dream,” you said quietly.

A pause.

Then he let out a slow exhale, dragging a hand over his face. “Baby…” he mumbled, already irritated, “you woke me up for that?” Your stomach dropped slightly at his tone.

“I was scared,” you said, softer now.

“Yeah?” he muttered, not even opening his eyes. “You’re scared of everything.”

Your lips parted, a little offended. “Wow.”

He just hummed, clearly not taking you seriously.

You stared at him, waiting for something else, anything softer.

Nothing came.

He shifted like he was about to go right back to sleep.

“Are you seriously just going back to sleep?” you asked, disbelief creeping into your voice.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “That’s usually what people do at night.”

“Chris—”

“Go to sleep, baby,” he cut in, pulling the blanket higher. “You’re fine.”

You sat there for a second, stunned.

Then your expression hardened.

“Okay,” you said, a little sharper now. “Good to know you don’t care.”

That got a reaction.

He cracked one eye open, clearly annoyed. “Oh my god, don’t start.”

“Don’t start?” you repeated. “I wake up shaking and you’re acting like I’m annoying you.”

“Because you are,” he said bluntly. “You woke me up out of nowhere over a dream.”

You stared at him.

“…You’re actually so mean,” you muttered.

“And you’re being dramatic,” he shot back instantly.

Your jaw tightened.

“Fine,” you said, turning away from him, pulling the blanket around yourself. “Go back to sleep. I’ll just sit here by myself.”

“Good,” he muttered. “Do that.”

Silence.

A long one.

You waited.

Nothing.

Your eyes narrowed slightly.

“…If it was you,” you said quietly, “I wouldn’t ignore you.”

Chris didn’t move.

“…I’d actually care,” you added, just a little more dramatic.

A beat.

Then..

“Baby,” he groaned, dragging the word out as he pushed himself up slightly, “you’re literally trying to guilt-trip me right now.”

You shrugged, still facing away. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t being a jerk.”

“I’m not being a jerk,” he said. “I’m being tired.”

You scoffed. “Same thing.”

He let out a short, irritated laugh.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered.

You didn’t respond.

Just sat there, quiet now—but not really. The kind of quiet that was loud on purpose.

Another pause.

Then suddenly—

His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against him in one quick motion.

You let out a small gasp as your back hit his chest, his grip firm, keeping you there.

“Stop,” he muttered. “You’re not doing that.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Doing what?”

“That whole ‘I’m gonna sit here and pout’ thing,” he said. “It’s annoying.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he cut in.

You huffed. “You’re still being mean.”

“And you’re still talking,” he shot back.

But his hand didn’t move from your waist.

In fact, it tightened slightly, pulling you closer.

You tried to hold onto your attitude. “…You didn’t have to grab me like that.”

“Yeah, I did,” he muttered. “Or you were gonna keep going.”

You rolled your eyes—but didn’t pull away.

His chin rested lightly near your shoulder, breath warm against your skin.

“Your heart’s racing,” he said after a second, quieter now.

You hesitated. “…I told you it was a bad dream.”

“Mm.”

His thumb brushed slowly against your side, absentminded but grounding.

“You’re fine,” he said. “It’s not real.”

You relaxed just slightly at that.

“…Don’t fall asleep yet,” you mumbled.

Chris let out a tired sigh. “You’re actually insane.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are, baby,” he muttered.

A pause.

Then softer.

less bite this time—

“…I’m right here. Relax.”

Your fingers curled into the blanket.

“…Okay.”

Silence settled again, heavier but warmer now.

His arm stayed wrapped around you, holding you in place like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon.

“If you wake me up again,” he mumbled, voice already fading, “I’m ignoring you. I mean it this time.”

You smiled faintly, eyes closing.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “sure you will.”

He didn’t answer.

But his grip tightened just a little before he drifted off—

still holding you close.

[alvaasturnxx]

Hiii, so this is my first time writing a fanfic lol! I hope you enjoyyyyy!————————————————————————The room had that quiet, heavy feeling that only came from staying in it too long.

Curtains half-drawn. Air unmoving. The kind of stillness that pressed against your chest and made everything feel slower, harder.

You hadn’t gotten out of bed.

Not really.

Your body was there, curled into itself beneath the blankets, staring at nothing in particular while your thoughts ran in circles you couldn’t escape.

A soft knock broke through the silence.

You didn’t answer.

Another knock, slightly louder this time.

“baby?”

Of course it was him.

“I know you’re in there,” Chris called, quieter now. “Your car’s outside.”

You exhaled slowly, debating whether to pretend you weren’t home. But that never worked with him.

The door creaked open anyway.

You didn’t move as he stepped inside, his presence immediately shifting the atmosphere of the room. Not completely, but enough to notice.

He paused for a second, taking it all in.

“…Okay,” he muttered under his breath. “yeah, this isn’t happening.”

You groaned into your pillow. “Go away, Chris.”

“No.”

The mattress dipped slightly as he sat on the edge of the bed. You could feel his eyes on you, waiting.

“You’ve been ignoring me all day,” he said.

“I told you I’m not going,” you mumbled, your voice muffled.

“I’m not talking about the party anymore.”

That made you pause.

Slowly, you turned your head just enough to look at him.

His expression wasn’t annoyed. Or pushy.

Just… concerned.

“Then what are you talking about?” you asked quietly.

“You,” he said simply.

You looked away again.

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” he let out a small breath. “you don’t look fine.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and uncomfortable.

You picked at the fabric of your blanket. “I just don’t feel like being around people.”

“Then don’t,” he shrugged. “I don’t care about the party.”

You frowned slightly, glancing back at him. “You’ve been trying to get me to go all week.”

“Because I wanted you there,” he said. “Not because I care about some random party.”

Your chest tightened.

“I just…” you hesitated. “I don’t feel like myself lately.”

He didn’t interrupt.

“I don’t wanna go out and pretend I’m okay when I’m not.”

Chris nodded slowly, like he understood more than he was letting on.

“Then don’t pretend,” he said.

You gave him a tired look. “It’s not that easy.”

“I know,” he replied softly.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, thinking.

“…Can you sit up for me?” he asked.

You blinked. “What?”

“Just sit up.”

You stared at him like he’d lost it. “Chris—”

“Please.”

There was something different in his voice. Not demanding.

Gentle. Steady.

Reluctantly, you pushed yourself up, your body protesting the movement. The blanket fell to your lap as you sat there, shoulders slumped.

“See?” he said quietly. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

A small smile tugged at his lips.

“Stand up.”

You let out a short laugh. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on.”

“No.”

“babe.”

You shook your head, but he was already reaching for your hands.

“Chris—”

“Trust me,” he said.

His grip wasn’t forceful, just firm enough to pull you forward. You resisted for a second, but not fully, never fully with him.

Eventually, your feet hit the floor.

You stood there, slightly unsteady, staring at him.

“Happy?” you muttered.

“Getting there.”

Before you could question him again, soft music started playing from his phone, filling the quiet room.

You recognized it instantly.

You groaned. “You’re kidding.”

He shook his head, stepping closer.

“Dance with me.”

“I’m not dancing.”

“You are.”

“I literally just got out of bed—”

“All the more reason.”

You tried to step back, but his hands found yours, warm and grounding.

“Chris…”

“Just one minute,” he said softly. “That’s it.”

You hesitated.

Then..barely, you nodded.

His hands moved carefully, one resting at your waist, the other holding yours as he guided you into a slow, easy rhythm.

At first, your body felt stiff, uncooperative.

Your mind kept trying to pull you back under.

“This is stupid,” you mumbled.

“Yeah,” he agreed lightly. “but you’re still doing it.”

You huffed, but didn’t pull away.

His movements stayed slow, steady, giving you time to adjust. Time to feel instead of think.

“Stop overthinking it,” he murmured. “just follow me.”

Easier said than done.

But gradually—without you realizing—it got easier.

Your steps matched his.

Your shoulders relaxed.

Your breathing evened out.

“You see?” he said quietly.

You didn’t answer right away.

Because for the first time all day, your head wasn’t so loud.

It was just the music.

And him.

And the way his presence made everything feel… lighter.

“You’re really annoying,” you said finally.

He smiled. “And yet, here you are. Dancing with me.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite to it.

His hand tightened slightly around yours as he spun you gently, pulling you back in—closer this time.

Not overwhelming.

Just enough to remind you he was there.

“I missed this,” he admitted.

You blinked. “Missed what?”

“You,” he said simply.

Your heart did that quiet, unexpected thing again.

The room didn’t feel as suffocating anymore.

It wasn’t fixed.

Nothing magically disappeared.

But it didn’t feel impossible either.

“…I still don’t wanna go to that party,” you said.

“Good,” he replied. “we’re not going.”

You looked at him, surprised.

“Then why—”

“Because I wanted you to move,” he said softly. “Even just a little.”

You glanced down at your feet, still stepping in time with his.

“…I guess it worked.”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “I know.”

And for once—

you didn’t feel completely stuck.

—————————————————————————