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@charmersturns
♪♪ railway — bang chan
"Rough ride, hold on tight"
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୨ৎ meet... ryleigh. they/she wlwm ISTJ ⁰⁸ liner hyune's hot gf. 8teen. 스트레이 키즈 nick girl. 10% yapper, 90% fangirl. hyunin biased. sturniolo triplets madison beer music lover #ilovemygirlfriend tvdu enthusiast stayblr & sturnblr
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© charmersturns || est. june '26
happiest 23rd birthday to the sweetest boys :)) although, i have lost interest in them for a while, i will always remember how much they mean to me and made me laugh. they did save me at one point, but things can change. i remember when they were just 17 and starting their youtube journey. it’s been so amazing watching them grow up and become better people, not only for the fans, but for themselves too. i was in the fandom for 5 years, and they were the best 5 years of my life. though, this fandom is super toxic at times, i still made a ton of friends and discovered my love for them.
i’m wishing them the happiest birthday, and i hope it is filled with nothing but cheers and laughter. these boys deserve the world, and i hope they know how much the fandom values them. ♡♡
WEAKNESS ── CHRIS STURNIOLO
⤷ masterlist ⟶ previous scene ⤷ cw . . . explicit sexual content & language, consensual rough sex & spanking, possessive/dominant behavior & verbal control, mild restraint, light degradation/praisekink . . .
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Jenevieve Seinee tasted even better than she looked. Eleven years of waiting and wishing, and seven years of loving. It had all come down to this, and she felt better than he could ever have imagined.
He backed her against the side wall, tangling his fingers deep into her hair. The kiss wasn't gentle; it was rough, possessive, and meant to erase every memory of anyone else who had ever touched her. Now that she was finally in his arms, he had no intention of ever letting her go.
The moment she appeared at his front door, he felt the shift in his chest. The war was done. Trusting his gut had never let him down before, and right now, every instinct told him the game was over. No more denials. No more running. No more of this fucking misery. Today was the end of it. Hopefully.
Pressing her firmly against the kitchen island, he drank in her soft moans, each sound sending a jolt of heat straight to his groin. She tasted exactly as he’d dreamed: warm cinnamon laced with a hit of pure sugar.
As she arched her head back, he brought his lips to her exposed neck—sucking, biting, and then soothing the flushed skin with his tongue until she panted his name.
“Bellissima,” he muttered against her throat, lifting her smoothly until she was seated on the island counter. “Can we take this off, baby?” he asked, his chin nudging toward her dress as his fingers found the zipper.
She nodded, her hands gripping his shoulders with frantic urgency. As he pulled the zipper down, the silk pooled around her waist, exposing smooth skin and the perfect curve of her breasts. Every muscle in his body coiled tight at the sight, and he fought for control against the heavy, aching pulse strain in his sweatpants.
Lifting her slightly with one arm, he let the rest of her dress slip to the floor before setting her back down. His gaze traveled over her matching red lace bra and panties—she looked like pure passion and sin.
He cupped her neck, then slid his hand beneath her underwear, his thumb flicking gently over her center. “Oh, God…” she moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Chris, please.” He had barely started touching her, and she was squirming.
“Patience, bella,” he whispered against her skin.
Her warmth was overwhelming, allowing him to press two fingers deep into her easily. A sharp gasp broke from her lips. Chris paused, remaining still until she adjusted and opened her hooded eyes and gave him a clear nod to continue.
He set a deliberate pace, thrusting in and out as her moans vibrated softly against his hair. “That’s it… Just ride it out for me, baby,” he encouraged her to ride against his finger. But right as her muscles began to squeeze tightly around him, enough to bring her to the edge, but not enough to tip her over, he withdrew with a chuckle.
Jenn, who was breathless, shot him a look of pure betrayal. “No—Chris! That’s not fair—”
The rest of her words dissolved into a sudden gasp when he parted her legs, hooked her underwear down over her knees, and shoved his tongue inside her.
“Fuck!” Jenn's hands flew to his hair, tugging, and he let out a groan of approval.
Between the slow, deep thrusts of his fingers and his relentless tongue, Jenn was dripping, and he lapped up every drop like a man dying of thirst. She tasted better than anything he’d ever known. Nothing felt more right than being buried between her legs while her plush thighs squeezed his head.
She ground her hips frantically against his face, movements desperate, and her soft, pleading whines grew louder with every stroke of his tongue. “I… I need to come, Chris,” she gasped.
Though he wanted to drag out every second of tasting her, he spared her the torture, wrapping his lips tightly around her center with a firm, deliberate pull. “Come,” he demanded.
Jenn bowed her back with a breathless scream before the word even fully cleared his throat. Watching her unravel was so fucking hot it nearly made him come right then and there, but he held back, keeping his hands away from his own body.
She shook against him, her fingers locked behind his neck, and it took minutes for her climax to subside. When she finally met his eyes, there was an unfamiliar bashfulness in her expression, a shy version of Jenn he had rarely seen.
“That was…” She breathed heavily, still trying to catch her breath. “That was good.”
A roar of pure satisfaction swelled in his chest, but it dissolved into quick action the second she tried to stand up. He caught her by the waist and hauled her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as he turned toward his bedroom.
“Chris! What are you—”
“If you think I’m anywhere near done with you tonight, you’re out of your mind. I didn’t wait this long just to settle for a taste. I want to see you. All of you.”
He braced for a protest, but none came. Instead, she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. He kept his eyes locked on hers, a smug grin tugging at his lips as he carried her through the doorway. She sloughed off the lace, and the moment they reached the bed, he tossed her gently onto the mattress, devouring every inch of her bare body with his eyes. Holy fuck.
“I should’ve known you’d be this perfect.”
Color flushed her cheeks, but her eyes trailed boldly down his chest. “Take your clothes off. You’re wearing far too much.”
“Yes, ma'am.” With a swift flick of his wrists, he stripped off his vest, then pushed his sweatpants down and kicked them aside. He watched her lazy gaze drag over his body, eyes widening slightly as they locked onto his cock before drifting back up to meet his look. He didn’t wear boxers to bed. “Is this more to your liking, bella?”
“I prefer when you don’t talk, but—”
He pounced, catching her by the ankles to haul her closer before straddling her hips. A snarky remark rose in his throat but disappeared at the scent. “You smell so good, baby.” Dragging his stubble down her throat to her chest, he buried his face between her breasts. “Fuck, you're gorgeous.”
He shifted over her body, licking and nipping a path along her stomach and breasts, covering her completely with his weight. She felt so soft and warm beneath him. After years of celibacy, she had no idea what kind of hunger she’d just unlocked in him.
Her hands slid down his shoulders, tracing the light hair near his waistline, her touch lingering with a slight hesitation like she was wondering if she was allowed to touch him further.
“Lower, bella,” he prompted, his voice thick. Through hooded eyes, she slid her hand further down, slowly cupping his cock in her palm, and he let out a strained hiss. She was gonna be the death of him.
“I want it,” she breathed.
Yeah, definitely the death of him.
“Ask me nicely,” he rasped, nipping her jaw.
Jenn didn't plead right away. Taking her time, her small hand slid around the heavy, throbbing length of his cock, giving him two firm, agonizingly thorough strokes. He gritted his teeth, holding his breath to keep from giving in to the heat and grinding against her palm. When she finally looked up at him, her eyes were dark and completely unraveled.
“Please, Chris,” she breathed.
He leaned in, aligning himself until the slick head of his cock rested right against her entrance, teasing her soaked folds without giving her the depth she was begging for. Frustrated by the edge, Jenn tried to lift her hips, attempting to drive herself down onto him, but he held her firmly in place, keeping her right at the threshold.
“Greedy,” he chastised softly, a dark smirk touching his lips as he felt how drenched she was against him. “Look at you. You just came, bella, and you’re already desperate for more.”
Cheeks flushed, she lifted a hand to push against his hard chest, trying to hide her face. But Chris reacted on instinct. His hand clamped around her wrist, capturing both her hands in a single grip and anchoring them over her head against the sheets. He leaned down until his chest was crushed against her breasts, his gaze burning into hers with absolute authority.
“Don’t,” he rasped, his voice dropping an octave. “Don’t you ever push me away again.”
The playfulness evaporated. She looked like she understood instantly—he was talking about every year, every barrier, and every mile she’d ever put between them. Every time she pushed him away when he begged her to stay.
“I won't,” she promised.
The moment he loosened his grip on her wrists, she brought both hands up, framing his face with her soft palms. She pulled him down into a deep, slow, sweet kiss before pulling back just enough to press her lips to the line of his cheekbone.
“I’m so sorry, Chris.”
He smirked down at her vulnerable expression, his gaze dark with intent. “Yeah, you better be. You kept what belonged to me away for far too long.” Lowering his weight onto her, he brought his mouth right to the shell of her ear, his words woven between kisses, bites, and hot trails of his tongue against her sensitive skin.
“Let’s get one thing straight, bella.” Nip. Suck. Lick. A sharp gasp broke from her throat. “The second my cock fills up this pretty little cunt, you’re mine. I spent years watching you fuck around with guys who didn’t deserve you. So, now, you’re going to make it all up to me.”
She pouted slightly, the lip-tremble so raw and stunning that Chris thought his heart would split open in his chest. She was so painfully beautiful it hurt to look at her sometimes.
“I didn’t mean to parade Braxton in front of you,” she whispered, her voice laced with quiet remorse. “He was my fiancé.”
His eyes narrowed into slits, a low growl tearing from his throat. “Was,” he spat softly. “And he’s nothing now. Don’t let his fucking name touch your mouth again.”
Jenevieve Seinee belonged to him. Body, heart, and soul. If he could physically carve a place inside her and hide away forever, he would. He had been bound to her for years. He couldn’t imagine a universe where she and all her red didn’t consume his entire world.
“I love you, Chris.”
Chris's chest ached at the words.
“And as long as there's breath in my body, Jenn, you will never love me more than I have ever fucking loved you.”
With a single, heavy thrust, the slick head of his cock parted her heat and sank deep into her tightness. He watched in breathless fascination as her eyes rolled back, her body melting beneath him in total surrender. God, he almost regretted moving so fast—he wanted to freeze time just to watch that innocent, ruined look wash over her face again.
“Breathe, my love,” he whispered against her lips, his voice tender despite the scorching fire consuming him from the inside out. “Adjust for me. You can take it.”
“So—so full.” She struggled, wiggling and hissing at the stretch. Wet and tight. So tight. He honestly felt like a saint for lasting this long. He could hardly contain himself when he was alone in the shower, fisting his cock to images of her.
Once he felt that she adjusted, Chris slid his cock out until just the tip remained, then slammed forward again. And again. Until he formed a brutal rhythm, making her take every inch. Balls slapped against her skin, and her moans became screams. Her breasts bounced with every heavy thrust of his hips.
He dragged his teeth over her collarbone, pressing weight down and refusing to hold back.
He could feel her struggling to catch her breath, but slowly her body yielded, clinging to every movement. Her nails bit into his arms. Chris leaned in close, burying his face in the curve of her neck and talking dirty straight into her ear until she lost her mind.
“You take it so well, bella.”
“Chris. Oh God—” Jenn sobbed, her hands clutching at the sheets. “I can’t… I need—”
“What do you need?” he growled, trapping her nipple between his teeth. “You need to come again?”
“Y-yes.” The word tore from her throat as a half-plea, half-moan.
He dragged his mouth up her neck, tracing a hot line to her ear. “Come for me, bella.” With a sharp pinch to her nipple and one final, brutal thrust, she exploded. Her mouth fell open in a scream, her body arching completely off the bed as her heat clamped tight around him, strangling his cock.
Chris held her shaking frame, cradling her head against his chest until her ragged breathing finally began to slow. She was a complete mess—her usually pristine, straight bob tossed into a frizzy mess, her face pink with the heavy glow of being freshly fucked.
She let out a long breath, her eyes trailing down to where they were still joined before snapping back to his with sudden concern. “You haven't… You haven't come yet. Why?” She reached down toward his cock. “I can help—”
“I’m not done with you yet, bella,” he murmured smoothly, catching her wrist and gently rolling his hips into her warm center.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Again?”
“Yes, again. I don’t plan on letting you out of this bed until I’ve made you come at least three times.”
As she caught her breath, he watched her hand brush against something soft and crumpled near the edge of the mattress. She pulled it back, holding up a sleek silk scarf that had been tossed aside earlier. Fuck.
Jenn blinked at it until recognition turned to a playful spark in her dark eyes. “This mine?”
Chris stayed completely silent, his jaw tightening as his eyes darkened, refusing to give her the satisfaction of an answer. Still, a teasing smile spread across her face. She held the scarf up between them, running the soft silk over her lips and trailing it down her chest in a deliberate, taunting motion.
“You kept it?” she purred softly, her tone dripping with adorable mischief. “And here I thought you were just a cold-hearted brute. Turns out you’re just a hopeless romantic.”
His gaze darkened. She had some nerve taunting him. “You done now?”
She shrugged an elegant, bare shoulder. “It’s cute that you slept with it.”
“Alright.” He yanked the scarf from her fingers, balled it up, and pressed it between her lips to muffle her teasing. When the mischievous glint refused to leave her eyes, a dark smirk tugged at his mouth. In one fluid motion, he flipped her over onto all fours facing the foot of the bed. “I was going to give it to you nice and slow, but clearly you need to be taught to shut up.”
She let out a muffled gasp as he pressed her cheek into the soft mattress and drove back into her with a single, deep thrust. Reaching around, he gathered both of her wrists in one hand, pulling her arms back to deepen the angle until he was buried to the absolute hilt.
“This is for always provoking me.” He cupped the soft curve of her rear before landing a sharp, stinging slap that made her hips jump. “This is for giving what’s mine to someone else.” Thrust. Slap. “And this is for cutting your fucking hair.” Thrust. Slap. He wished it was still there so he had something to hold onto other than her wrists. Plus the fact it had been one of his favourite parts of her.
The pent-up frustration poured into every heavy, unyielding drive of his hips. A dark, low laugh rumbled in his chest when he felt her buck back against him with every sting, matching his aggression. She was far dirtier than he’d ever let himself dream.
Releasing her wrists, he hauled her up by her waist until they were both on their knees, her back crushed flush against his chest.
“You like that?” He reached up, cupping her jaw to tilt her head toward the floor-length mirror framed across from the bed. “You like getting spanked like a bad girl, bella?”
He locked one arm tightly around her waist, supporting her weight as he hammered into her with brutal, relentless depth, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the quiet room. In the reflection, he saw her eyelids flutter shut, overwhelmed by the intensity.
Chris immediately closed his free hand around her throat to shift her gaze.
“Open your eyes,” he growled in her ear, his thumb tracing the pulse racing at her neck. “Look at us, Jenn. I want you to watch my cock fuck you. Dirty girl.”
Forced to look, her heavy-lidded eyes locked onto his in the glass. His dominant frame wrapped around her flushed, trembling body. The scarf fell from her lips as a breathless moan escaped her, her hips instinctively rolling back into his rhythm.
“You have a real dirty mouth outside of boardrooms, Christopher,” she gasped, her voice trembling with breathless amusement. “What would my father say if he knew how you talked to his daughter?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he rasped in her ear, his hips maintaining a slow, heavy grind against her back. “How would he react if he knew his prim and proper daughter likes getting dicked down by the man she claimed to hate?”
He shifted his angle. Devastating depth knocked the breath right out of her lungs. Her head fell back against his shoulder, her hands clawing blindly at his thighs for purchase as her playful retorts dissolved into needy, broken gasps. “Still—still do hate you—” She cut off herself with a loud ugh.
“I thought you loved me, bella?” he demanded, his mouth tracing a line of fiery kisses down her throat while his fingers found her sensitive center from behind, stroking in time with his heavy thrusts. “Did you say that just to get fucked?”
“Love and hate can go together,” she whimpered, her body shuddering as the dual friction pushed her dangerously close to the edge again. “You’re still… arrogant… ruthless—”
“And yours,” he interrupted, using two fingers to play around her clit, matching the rhythm of his cock until she was trembling, completely unraveled in his arms. “Say who you belong to, Jenn.”
“Nobodys.” This girl.
Before she could even finish the word, Chris pulled entirely out of her, stepping back just enough to break the connection.
“Chris! No—!” Jenn cried out instantly, her hips twitching in protest at the sudden, agonizing coldness where his heat had been just a second before. He crossed his arms, his towering frame looking down at her with absolute authority, dark eyes flashing with unyielding demand.
“Fine, fine!” Jenn whined, looking at him through the mirror, practically vibrating with needy frustration. “I’m yours, Chris—but you already know that!”
“Do I? Because you’ve left too many times, Jenn.” He leaned down, placing his hands on either side of her, his gaze searching hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. “Am I really that easy to leave, bella?” he rasped softly. “Was it easy for you to turn around and walk away from us?”
“It hurt walking away, Chris. I hope you know that before you jump to conclusions.”
Satisfied enough with her answer, he didn't waste another second. He drove back into her from behind, their bodies molding seamlessly together once more. He pressed his face against hers, the rough scrape of his stubble reddening her soft cheek as he set a punishing, possessive rhythm.
Their reflection in the mirror was pure sin—a scene ripped straight out of a dark fantasy. She was exactly where she belonged: pinned beneath him, filled by his length, and begging for every drop he could give her.
“Oh, God, baby!” The sound of the pet name let her lips as she shattered around him for the third time. The sound of the nickname undid him; a loud groan, and his orgasm ripped through him in hard waves.
She’s never called him anything other than Chris or Christopher. He swore extra ropes of cum made their way out of his cock at the thought of her calling him baby again. It leaked out of her and onto the rumpled sheets, and he couldn’t help but use his cock to stuff it back into her. God, she was fucking perfect. In every way.
Wrapped in each other's arms, their breathing slowly evened out as the lingering tremors of release began to subside.
“Look in the mirror, Jenn,” Chris murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her jawline. “Look at what you kept from us and look at all the years you tried to make me live without this. Tell me you’re staying. Tell me it’s forever.”
A soft nod was all she could manage at first, her head resting heavily against his chest as her breathing settled. “I’m not going anywhere,” she breathed, staring back at their reflection. “I’m yours, Chris.”
In the mirror across the room, two unraveled figures looked back at them. Staring at their reflection, he wished he could suspend time itself right here in the quiet aftermath. He tightened his grip around her, pulling her closer, and pressing a lingering kiss to her temple as their gazes met in the glass.
“Welcome home, mia regina.”
ceyana’s note: was the hot or nah?i love you, mwah <3
© 𝐂𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎
WEAKNESS ── CHRIS STURNIOLO
⤷ masterlist ⟶ previous scene ⤷ cw . . . suggestive sexual dialogue, relationship conflict, emotional infidelity, and angst . . .
꒰ comment on this post to join series taglist ꒱
There's an old saying: If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was.
That had become Christopher's entire philosophy the day he walked away from Jenn in her dressing room, even if it sounded like bullshit. It had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. He'd chosen to walk away from the one thing he wanted most. It had been a month since that day.
He hadn't seen her once since.
But avoiding her didn't mean escaping her.
The engagement had become one of the biggest topics in New York's social circles. Every charity gala, every business dinner, every magazine seemed to mention the upcoming Seinee-Miller wedding.
In one month, Jenevieve Miller, this June. The ceremony was set to take place in London, at the Miller family's sprawling estate. Chris tried not to think about it.
But that was like telling a fucking addict to quit overnight.
Nick and Matt had been showing up at his penthouse far more often than usual. Hell, the two idiots had practically moved in for a night earlier that week because they'd convinced themselves he was one bad evening away from drinking himself into oblivion.
As if he were that pathetic—he was.
Unfortunately, Matt had also done what Matt always did, and he’d told Elena everything about him and Jenn. Chris hadn't appreciated that in the slightest, but then again, Matt had never been capable of keeping anything from his wife. They shared one brain cell between them, and apparently it came with zero privacy.
The next morning, Elena had shown up carrying a cake. Written across the icing, in aggressively cheerful lettering, were the words: “What did the icing say to the broken heart? Don't worry, I've got you covered!”
He wanted to throw the damn thing in the trash.
Instead, he'd accepted it because upsetting Elena inevitably meant dealing with a grumpy, overprotective Matt afterward for upsetting his wife.
He’d always envied Matt in that sense. He had loved Elena since they were teenagers, helping her become the woman she was while making himself a man, and once he decided he was going to keep her, he didn’t let go.
Tonight was the first night in weeks that he hadn't locked himself inside his penthouse or drowned the silence in some quiet neighborhood bar.
Instead, he was standing in one of Manhattan's most exclusive clubs.
It wasn't his scene, but in his mind it was progress.
He hadn't slept with anyone in years, and at this rate, he was pretty sure his own dick was going to sue him for neglect. It wasn't for lack of options, and fairly speaking, he was far from a virgin. His college days and the years right after had proven he had plenty. But ever since a certain doe-eyed woman entered his world, he’d turned down every single one of them.
Unconsciously, he’d spent years waiting for someone who had never even been his. Falling in love with her slowly meant realizing, just as slowly, that neither his heart nor his body would ever turn on for anyone else.
Maybe tonight was the night he finally stopped clinging to a future that no longer existed. Maybe tonight he’d prove to himself that he could want someone else—that he could touch someone else—and finally let that stubborn rose in his heart wilt and die, to let it go.
A woman stepped up beside him, effortlessly attractive and clearly in her early twenties. Her voice slid over him, thick with sultry intent.
“You look pretty lonely for a guy that handsome,” she purred, leaning into his space. “What’s your line of work? You look important. Finance?”
“Security.” He answered plainly.
“Bodyguard?”
“CEO.”
Her eyes flashed with instant, heightened interest. Chris knew better than to let some young socialite entertain visions of becoming a billionaire’s wife, but small talk had never been his strong suit. He’d never needed it when quick, dangerous banter with her was all he ever craved.
Fuck, stop thinking about her.
The woman shifted closer, her fingers lightly trailing along the edge of the bar, her gaze dropping to his lips before sweeping back up. "You know... this floor is getting a little too loud to hear myself think," she murmured, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I hear the private suites upstairs are much quieter. Why don't we get out of this crowd and see if you're as commanding behind closed doors?"
He closed his eyes for a split second, taking a heavy breath. Just do it. Get over her.
"Fine," he grunted, his voice tight. "Lead the way."
A victorious smile flashed across her face as she took his hand, guiding him away toward the suites. The moment the door shut behind them, closing out the dim noise of the crowd, she didn't waste a second.
Her hands slid up his chest, resting against his shoulders as she pressed him back against the wall. Before he could even brace himself, her lips dragged across the skin of his jawline, dipping lower to press soft kisses against his neck.
She was sweet and warm, and felt entirely wrong.
Chris stood completely still, his hands resting flat against the wall on either side of her. His body was reacting out of sheer instinct, but every nerve ending in his brain felt completely numb. The touch was there, the friction was there, but the spark was dead on arrival.
“Let's get you out of these,” she whispered, her hands moving to his shirt as she nudged him backward onto the edge of the mattress. Stepping between his knees, her fingers made quick work of his top buttons before trailing down to the buckle of his belt.
“Enough.” Chris’s hand shot out to her wrist.
She froze, her eyes flashing with a mix of sharp frustration and sudden vulnerability. “What? We were just getting started. Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now?” She tried to soften her voice, leaning in to kiss his jaw again, attempting to coax him back into the mood. “Let me make it good for you, sir.”
Chris didn't budge. Tense and restless, he looked up at her, really looking at her this time, past the sultry smile. He noticed the slight stiffening of her shoulders, the precision in how she moved, and the complete detachment in her eyes.
This was her job.
“You’re not even aroused,” Chris said flatly.
Her expression crumbled, the alluring facade stripping away to reveal genuine embarrassment and hurt. She pulled her wrist from his grip, her gaze dropping to the floor, her lips pressing into a thin line.
Chris rubbed a hand over his face, a sudden wave of exhaustion hitting him. He reached into his inner suit pocket, pulled out his wallet, and placed a stack of hundred-dollar bills on the nightstand.
“Sorry, dear. Get home safe.” He straightened his shirt and left the room.
The cool night air hit him the second he stepped out of the venue, but it did nothing to clear the heavy, suffocating weight in his chest.
Once he was driving, a profound, bitter disgust settled deep in his gut at himself. He had actually thought he could force it. Believed that if he just threw himself into a bed with a beautiful stranger, he could burn away the ghost of the woman who'd haunted him for years.
It was a pathetic realization, but it was absolute: he was never getting over her.
He couldn't even touch another woman. He couldn't kiss another woman. He couldn't even stand the smell of someone else's perfume without feeling like he was betraying a promise he’d never even been allowed to make. His mind, his heart, his damn body—they were all locked on a woman who would never be his.
When he finally made it home, he chugged a glass of water, leaning heavy forearms against the kitchen island as he tried to breathe through the strangling, tight feeling in his lungs. But the tension only spiked as unwanted images flooded his mind—Jenn, wrapped up with Brax.
What was she doing right now? Sleeping? No, she never went to bed this early. Maybe meditating. Selfishly, he hoped she was doing anything in the world other than Brax.
He dragged himself into the shower, aggressively scrubbing his skin as if he could wash away the ghost of another woman's touch. But no matter how hard he scrubbed, a toxic residue of guilt clung to him. Which was ridiculous. He owed no one anything. He had every right to sleep with whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted.
Wet and exhausted, he tossed on a tank and a pair of sweats before collapsing onto the bed. His hand slid under his pillow out of pure muscle memory, his fingers curling around a soft piece of fabric.
Her scarf. The one she’d left in his car two years ago.
It had long since lost her scent, but it was still hers.
The memory of that night hit him like a physical blow. The pouring rain. Him lifting her into his arms so her designer heels wouldn't touch the filthy puddle water. And then, her razor-sharp words:
“No, Chris. I don’t need your help. I don’t need you.”
That should have been the moment he walked away for good. Instead, two years later, he was still clutching her scarf, holding it to his chest just to sleep every night.
One day, she’d have it all. The house she always dreamed of, the perfect husband, and she’d forget he ever existed. Meanwhile, Chris would remain trapped in time, living in the hollow phantom of what could have been.
He’d probably meet her children years from now and marvel at how perfect they were, just like her. But deep down, he’d always see the one tragic flaw in them: they weren't theirs.
After nearly an hour of staring at the ceiling, climbing out of bed and made his way toward the kitchen. He opened a drawer and pulled out a half-finished pack of cigarettes.
He rarely smoked anymore. it tasted too much like his youth and a past he’d tried hard to leave behind. But right now, anything was better than lying in bed, drowning in thoughts of her. He slipped a cigarette between his lips, snatched his lighter from the counter, and headed toward the balcony.
He hadn't even reached the sliding glass door when—
Ding.
He let out a heavy groan. Only two people in New York were obnoxious enough to show up unannounced at this hour: Matt or Nick. Or worse, both of them. He shoved the cigarette back into the pack, tossed it aside, and stormed toward the front entryway, rehearsing every curse word in his vocabulary. Maybe even getting his wrist ready for a punch.
He yanked the door open.
The anger died instantly in his throat, wrist dropped in place. He stared back at dark hair and wide doe eyes locked onto his, which were holding a look that was equal parts hesitant and desperate.
Maybe the saying wasn't bullshit after all.
If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours.
“Jenn, dear, we really need to go over what you want for the dress. If we don’t place an order for custom work now, it won’t be ready in time. I was thinking you’d look exquisite in custom Chanel…”
Brax’s mother went on and on about everything wedding-related.
Jenn sat across from her, totally zoned out. She tried to keep a smile pinned to her face, but it felt impossibly heavy to hold. If she was being completely honest with herself, she couldn’t give a damn about dress shopping.
Directly across the table, Brax ate quietly next to his father. Now and then, he’d glance up and offer her a polite smile. He’d been distant. Truthfully, they had both been distant with each other for weeks now. Ever since the engagement, everything between them had shifted.
Brax hadn't grown cold overnight. He was still gentle, still attentive, but there was a distinct barrier between them—not how a man should look at the woman he was about to marry.
Deep down, she knew exactly why.
Two weeks ago, she’d walked into his study without knocking. The instant he registered her presence, he had folded the sheet of paper in his hands and swept it into his desk drawer with unnerving speed.
She’d pretended not to notice.
But hours later, once he’d stepped out to take a business call, curiosity pulled her back. She’d opened the drawer and found the letter. Dated nearly three years ago. Signed simply, From Your Willow.
A bittersweet love letter from a time before their world had fractured. Jenn was about to slide it back into place when she noticed a hidden latch toward the back of the drawer. A small wooden keepsake box.
She opened it. Inside lay carefully preserved movie tickets, pressed flowers, printed photos, and postcards. Love notes. Willow wasn't an insignificant ex. She was the ex. The one that got away.
Jenn had never confronted him about it.
A truly devoted fiancée would have demanded answers, flared up with jealousy, or thrown a scene. But how could she? Braxton turned a blind eye to her history with Chris, even though she knew, deep down, he suspected something. They both knew this match was built on practicality rather than passion.
But the fire burning inside her was becoming impossible to extinguish. Every morning she woke up, a heavy wave of dread washed over her as the wedding date crept closer, making her feel more detached with each passing day.
As the dinner wrapped up, Brax’s mother showered her with sweet compliments right up to the front door. Jenn wasn't naive; she knew the woman’s affection was purely transactional. Marrying into her family was as strategic for Brax’s career as it was for her own social standing.
But standing there tonight, she found herself questioning everything. Was financial security really worth sacrificing her heart? If she swallowed her pride and returned to work at her father's company, she might be able to reclaim her inheritance.
Brax drove the entire way in silence. It was the longest they'd been alone together since their engagement party. When he turned toward his apartment instead of hers, she didn't object.
Against her better judgment, she wondered what Christopher was doing. Maybe he was with Matt and Nick. Maybe he was at some club, surrounded by women. Maybe one of them was touching him.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Stop.
The elevator ride to Brax's apartment passed just as quietly. He unlocked the front door and stepped inside first, eyeing her before asking if she was okay. She nodded, and with that, he disappeared down the hallway toward his bedroom.
Jenn remained standing by the front door. Motionless.
Before she could think herself out of it, adrenaline surged through her body; she hurried down the hallway, and Brax looked up as she appeared in his doorway, unbuttoning the cuffs of his dress shirt.
A confused smile crossed his face. "Everything alright?"
Her heart hammered so violently she was certain he could hear it. Before she could lose her nerve, the words escaped.
"Do you love me?"
The smile slowly faded from Brax's face, replaced instead by quiet confusion. "What's with the sudden question, Jenn?"
"I'm asking because..." She chewed on the inside of her cheek. "We're getting married in less than a month, and it feels like we're barely speaking to each other anymore. You don't... see it?"
Brax straightened, abandoning his shirt cuffs altogether as he leaned against the dresser, giving her his full attention.
"You're unhappy?"
Jenn laughed quietly, though there wasn't an ounce of humor in it. "I think we're both unhappy."
Something uncertain flickered across his face before vanishing behind a cool mask. "You're telling me this now? A month before the wedding? The timing's... a bit fucked, Jenn."
"I'm not trying to blindside you. I just..." She exhaled, frustration lacing her words. "I just... I don't think you love me, Brax. I know this arrangement works on paper. We both know what we get out of it. And I haven't forgotten that you asked me if I was sure before we got engaged. I’m not playing the victim here." She felt herself spiraling, her composure slipping. "But we’re way past playing house and pretending this is normal."
A flicker of silent helplessness passed over Brax. She could tell he was just as done with this. Shaking his head, he closed the distance between them, putting his hands deep into his trousers' pockets.
"Do you want me to love you?"
"You love Willow."
He flinched as if she’d uttered something foul.
“Jenn, if you need clarity on that, all you have to do is ask,” he said, his voice dropping into a tight, defensive pitch. “I’ve told you before, she’s the past. You are my future. We have our whole lives ahead of us to build a life..." He paused, the words catching in his throat before he forced them out. “And... to fall in love.”
“If Willow walked through that door right now, and she wanted you back... and your parents approved of her, would you still be marrying me right now?"
Eyes closed, Brax exhaled through his nose. It wasn't annoyance. It was the sigh of someone who'd been cornered by a question they didn't know how to answer without hurting the other person.
"What do you want, Jenn?"
I want Chris.
"I just..." Her voice wavered. "I need to know I'm not setting up for failure or entering something that could end up in divorce. Once you get hold of the company, you wouldn’t even need me."
"You've been in your head," he said quietly, reaching out with a cautious slowness. His hands settled lightly on her waist, holding her with just enough pressure to give her room to pull away. "And so have I."
His thumbs brushed rhythmically against the fabric of her dress. "We've both let things get between us. But we can fix this." He leaned in, pressing a tentative, soft kiss against the side of her neck before resting his forehead against hers. "I want us to try, Jenn."
She didn't lean in.
Beneath his gentle words, she could feel the forced effort behind every move. To Brax, making this work was his only path forward unless he was willing to face his family's wrath. For her, calling off the wedding meant enduring the fallout entirely alone, stripped of every safety net she had left.
His hands began to move, trailing down her sides, but her body felt completely paralyzed, unable to fight off his touch. The quiet sound of her dress unzipping echoed as he guided her back onto the mattress, shifting his weight to straddle her.
Shadowed by the dim light of the room, he couldn't see the tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to spill over. Brax leaned down, pressing hot, desperate kisses up the column of her neck, searching for any intimacy.
When he tilted his head toward hers, Jenn subtly turned her face away, refusing to give him her lips. His fingers worked hastily at the top buttons of his shirt, opening it up before his hand began to slide down her thigh, reaching toward the hem of her dress. The touch sent a shudder through her entire body.
"I love Chris."
Brax froze instantly, his hand stopping dead in its tracks as her confession broke through a choked sob. Jenn squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to open them, but she could feel the heavy weight of his gaze scanning her face in the dark. He didn't need to ask to know which Chris she was referring to.
A quiet, breathless "fuck" escaped him. Without another word, he shifted off her, carefully pulling the hem of her dress back down over her legs to restore her modesty. The overhead light clicked on.
Jenn sat up, her vision blurring through the tears. Brax stood near the foot of the bed rigid, one hand pressed against his forehead visibly overwhelmed.
The tears spilled over freely now. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, her voice trembling violently. “Brax, I’m so sorry—”
He cut her off with a sharp tsk. “Don’t apologize, Jenn. Just... fuck. This screws everything up.”
Fresh sobs wracked her body, the sheer guilt and exhaustion pulling a low, helpless cry from her throat. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as the reality of everything they had just shattered settled into the quiet room.
Brax let out a long, heavy exhale. The tension in his posture didn't disappear, but the sharp edge in his voice softened completely. He walked back over to the edge of the mattress and sat down next to her.
"Hey," he said quietly, voice surprisingly gentle. "Don't cry. Please. I'm not mad at you, Jenn. I promise. If I'm being honest... I think I already knew, deep down. Ever since the day I walked in on the two of you. But I thought you were trying to forget him."
Oh lord does he know.
“I tried so hard not to love him, Brax,” she whispered, wiping at the tears streaming down her face. “For my own sake, for yours, and to avoid ruining everything we agreed to, but—”
“Your feelings were too strong,” he finished softly for her. Jenn nodded as he took in her expression. “I don’t want you trapped in a marriage when our hearts are somewhere else. I could force myself through the motions, but I’d never ask you to do that for me.” Our hearts. Not just hers.
He told her to start at the beginning, so she did. She took him through every piece of the puzzle: the night he left her on her birthday, the fallout from the Armand deal, and the agonizing year and a half of silence that followed. She admitted that she’d been ready to walk down the aisle with him, right up until Chris walked back into her life and tore her whole world apart.
Brax listened thoughtfully.
Jenn swallowed. "What do we do now?"
"It’s not about what we do, Jenn,” Brax shook his head slowly, a faint, weary breath escaping him. “What do you want to do?" She stared blankly, overwhelmed by the sudden weight of her own freedom.
"Do you want to be with Chris?" His tone was completely free of judgment. Jenn gave a single nod, and a hesitant but genuine, gentle smile touched Brax’s lips. "Then we'll send you home."
It was all too good to be true. “But what about your company? Your parents will still be furious, and I’ll mess things up for you as well.”
“You're not wrong. It'll probably be one of the biggest messes either of us has ever made. " He shrugged, helplessly. "The press will have a field day. But if you're finally willing to take the risk, then I think I owe it to myself to do the same."
Braxton would be a good husband one day, just not hers.
"You should go,” Brax nodded toward the bedroom door. “I’ll sort things out and come back tomorrow. We’ll have a proper conversation about what we're going to do.”
It felt like a thousand pounds were lifted off her. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, emotion rising up. Brax hugged her back without hesitation.
It was a goodbye.
"Thank you," she whispered through tears. "And again, I'm so sorry."
"I know."
When they finally pulled apart, both of them looked lighter than they had only minutes earlier. Jenn wiped at her cheeks and walked toward the front door. Her hand had just reached the handle when she stopped.
"Brax?"
He looked up.
"Call her." She didn't have to say her name for him to understand. "Figure it out. I want to see you happy too. You're a good man, Braxton Miller."
He rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him. "I'll think about it."
With that, she opened the apartment door and walked out. A yellow cab pulled to the curb, and she gave the driver the address.
The raw weight of reality finally began to crush her. She had just called off her wedding. What was she going to tell her family? The press? Within hours, the entire city would be buzzing with the scandal. They would have to cancel every vendor, revoke every reservation, and undo months of preparation.
But none of that really mattered.
She had thirty minutes in the back of the car. Thirty minutes to figure out how to look the man she loved in the eye and admit he had been right all along. Thirty minutes to torture herself with the terrifying possibility that she was already too late.
What if he doesn't want me anymore? The thought hit her gut like a lead weight. He had told her to go be happy and walked away. What if he had actually meant it?
The cab pulled to a stop outside the building, and her heartbeat doubled. Just be calm. She repeated to herself.
She approached the concierge desk. "Hello, I'm here for Mr. Srurniolo."
The concierge looked up from his monitor, smiling, and told her she was approved to go up. He never removed her from his approve list. Her heart did a leap.
As the elevator ascended, she fixed her face and herself. Putting on as much confidence on her face as she could. Get it together.
Suddenly, she was staring at his door. Refusing to let her brain catch up, she hit the buzzer just once, entirely lacking the courage to do it again.
It swung wide open.
Chris was standing there in a white vest and sweats, looking effortlessly devastating. He had a dark scowl on his face, a string of curses clearly resting on the tip of his tongue, but he froze the moment he realized it was her.
Disbelief softened his harsh features. "Jenn?"
Before she could lose her nerve, she stepped past him. Chris instinctively shifted back, making room as she walked over the threshold and straight into the center of his living room, coming to a dead halt.
Behind her, she heard the soft click of the front door shutting. His heavy footsteps followed, rushing to close the distance before he stopped just a few feet away.
"What's going on? Are you—"
"You win," she blurted out, slicing right through his question.
“What?”
"I’ve always hated feeling like I was losing to you," she began, her throat tightening so much it hurt to get the words out. "It’s been like that since the second you stepped into my life. I hated that some intern could make my father prouder than I ever could. I spent my whole life chasing his validation, while you just... had it."
Chris stood completely still, his entire body going rigid. "Jenn, what are you saying right now?"
It was now or never.
"I’m saying that I hated you for a long time. Deep down," she confessed, her voice cracking slightly. "You built something real out of yourself while I was just spinning my wheels, doing whatever my parents demanded of me. But I finally get it now. I can’t hate you for that. I can’t control my father's favoritism toward you, and I can't blame you for my own insecurities, either."
A strained beat of silence stretched between them. Chris ran a heavy hand over his face, a sudden surge of frustration radiating off him. He wasn't angry at her. She knew it.
"You think this was about winning?" Chris demanded, his tone strained, rough around the edges. He took a heavy step toward her, his jaw clenching hard. "Jenn, I never gave a damn about your father's approval. I worked myself to the bone because I was trying to be worthy of you."
Worthy of you. The words rang in her ears, spreading through her chest.
"Fuck, baby... don’t ever feel insecure because of me. I wanted nothing more than to see you succeed—you have to know that," he rasped, taking another step. "I respect your dad, and I can’t pretend he hasn’t done a lot for me. But if he’s hurting you and making you feel like shit? I won’t hesitate for a second to fuck him over. The only fucking approval I’ve ever wanted was from you."
Jenn swallowed hard. There was no hesitation in his eyes, just pure, uncompromising devotion to her. She was certain this version of Chris would stab a man ruthlessly if he had to for her.
"He didn't hurt me, Chris," she whispered, her voice trembling as she finally let the rest of the truth spill out. "I hurt myself trying to fit into a life that wasn't mine." She reached out, her fingers lightly brushing against the hem of his shirt. "I called off the wedding tonight."
His gaze darkened. “Why?”
She chose her next words with deliberate care. “Because... I think from the very moment you told me you loved me, I knew I loved you too, far more than I could ever hate you.”
“So you’re not engaged anymore?” Satisfaction laced his voice.
She shook her head softly, her eyes locked onto his. He looked like a predator locked onto its prey—every muscle coiled, waiting for the exact right moment to strike. It felt as though one wrong move would cause him to pounce and consume her whole. She'd never felt more alive.
“Then take off that fucking ring.”
Jenn’s breath hitched in her throat. The ring meant nothing to her as she lifted her left hand. Fingers trembled slightly as she slid the diamond off her finger, cutting the final thread tying her to a life she never wanted.
The band barely landed on the Island before Chris spun her around, pinned her, and crashed his mouth against hers so fast and hard it knocked the breath straight from her lungs.
ceyana’s note: what if i disappeared! i love you, mwah <3
© 𝐂𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎
『 𝑼𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒌 ✰ 𝑴.𝑺 』
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ---› smut ⋆ blowjob under the desk/getting head on stream ⋆ keeping quiet ⋆ almost getting caught + more.
𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ---› 𝟐.𝟐 𝒌
𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ---› chaaat i missed these kinds of fics. not sure if i like it but i hope some of you enjoy it ^^
𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 ---› english is not my first language!
inspired by this «𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕» by @5i3nn44 :p
You sit sulking on the living room couch of the triplets’ house. Bored out of your mind as you try your best to be patient and wait for your boyfriend and his brother to finish up their stream.
You know it’s important for him—as a fairly big influencer—to be creating content, but Matt’s been gaming with his brothers for hours now, and you’ve spent the past thirty minutes trying to get his attention through texts but all he’s done is repeat the same sentence over and over again.
"I’ll be done soon. I promise."
Soon my ass, you think. It’s been almost three hours since he told you he’d be streaming.
It doesn’t help that you two were in the middle of making out when Chris texted him to remind him that they’d stream soon.
Now you’re stuck waiting for your boyfriend to wrap up the stream so you can continue where you’d left off.
Or…
You can always be a little sneaky about it.
You bite back the devilish grin beginning to stretch across your lips and slowly bring yourself up to your feet, sauntering over to Matt’s room. Thankfully, the door to his room is slightly ajar.
But you pause in front of it, not pushing in yet.
Matt hasn’t told his fans that he has a girlfriend yet—to protect you from the hateful, invasive fans—so you unfortunately can’t just waltz into his room. That’d cause too much trouble and put his efforts to keep you hidden in vain.
An idea pops up in your head and you slowly drop to your knees, pushing the door slowly to open it just enough so you can crawl inside his room without getting caught in the in-built camera of his monitor. Luckily for you, Matt’s monitor was facing straight, meaning the door isn’t visible for his viewers.
But Matt has already noticed you after hearing the subtle creaking of the door hinges. Frozen in place, he stares at his girlfriend on her knees in the doorway.
He looked confused at first, blinking at you. Then he looked worried that his viewers would notice, glancing back at the chat to see if they were suspicious as to why he was looking at something (or someone) off camera.
But then came the smile.
He looks utterly amused now, biting back his grin as he shakes his head subtly. Despite seeing what he saw, he goes back to focusing on the game as if nothing happened.
You feel your eye twitch.
Oh, he doesn’t realize what he just started.
"Chris! Come on! You’re not supposed to go that way!" Matt yells, groaning in frustration, already forgetting about your presence.
Little does he know, you’re already crawling into the room, determined to turn the tables around and have him begging.
When you reach his desk, you poke at his leg through his jeans and feel him freeze up again. He doesn’t dare look down, but you can see his jaw working as he slowly spreads his legs wider so you can crawl under the desk between them.
You grin and get into position, watching him continue to play—but less focused and more nervously now. He’s not sure what you’re trying to do. He just hopes you won’t do something extreme like suck his dick-
Ziiip
Oh.
Matt swallows thickly, trying not to give anything away. He can’t let his viewers or his brothers know what was happening—or about to happen—under his desk.
You thought he’d push you away and signal for you to stop, but he doesn’t, in fact, he lifts his hips just enough for you to tug his jeans and boxers down. He was already half-hard, twitching helplessly against his lower abdomen. He even adjusted his monitor so no one would see his body from the waist down.
You smile to yourself, loving how he matches your freak so well.
You wrap your fingers around him, feeling him pulse urgently against your palm. It doesn’t take much effort for him to grow into full hardness, head flushed and throbbing.
He glances down at you briefly, silently begging with his eyes for you to do something—anything.
He’s feeling hornier than usual. More desperate. More needy. Maybe it’s because he was cockblocked by his brothers—Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because he’s on live in front of thousands of people and one wrong move would let everyone know something they shouldn’t.
It’s risky and it could affect the future of his and his brothers’ channel, but he might have discovered something new about himself. He finds this utterly thrilling—to say the least.
You lean closer to his lap, fighting back a laugh when his dick jumps at your proximity, and you gently blow at his tip, watching with an amused expression as Matt shudders at the sensation, gasping sharply.
No one seems to have noticed his gasp, though. Thankfully.
You know you’re going to enjoy this, and Matt’s already dreading the teasing you were about to do.
Your tongue flattens against the underside of his shaft as you lick a broad stripe up from the base to the tip, focusing on that vein just below the head of his cock. Matt white knuckles the armrests of his gaming chair, his eyes closing briefly, lips parting.
The pleasure shooting up his spine is so sudden and intense that it has him fighting back everything not to moan out loud.
"Matt, what the fuck are you doing? We’re gonna die!"
Chris’s voice snaps Matt out of it and he quickly focuses back to the game—or tries to. He realizes quite quickly that no matter how hard he tries to pull his attention back to the game, he couldn’t quite do it.
You wrap your lips around him slowly, teasingly, swirling your tongue around his tip as you hollow your cheeks to suckle on the head. Focusing on the most sensitive part of his dick has Matt’s vision blurring, and he lets out a shaky breath, jaw slack, brows pinched together, eyes glued to the game on his screen.
For most people, it’d simply seem like he’s just way too focused on playing, but some eagle eyed freaks know exactly what’s taking place under Matt’s desk.
Chris laughs suddenly. "Matt, Matt!" He yells over the game. "Someone just asked if you’re getting head under the desk."
Matt’s heart drops to his ass.
Fuck, was he making faces? Was he being too loud? Were the slurping sounds that loud? What the fuck gave it away?
Despite the million thoughts running through his mind, he decides to act like Chris was saying the most ridiculous thing he’s heard in his life to mask his sudden panic.
"What are you talking about, Chris?" He makes a face.
Chris laughs harder. "Who would even get head while streaming?"
"You totally would," Nick chimes in.
"Oh shut up, Nick," Chris scoffs. "Don’t say that shit on stream."
Matt tries to laugh along but the way you’re starting to bob your head, taking more of him each time your mouth descends his length, is driving him near insane. You’re showing him no mercy as you switch techniques, sucking his head and twisting your wrists up and down and around the length of his cock like you’re trying to wring him dry.
Matt’s eyes roll back briefly, pleasure shooting up his spine, and he quickly squeezes his eyes shut, worried he’d give it all away.
"Oh, God…" He moans quietly under his breath, hips lifting against your hungry mouth as he opens his eyes to peer down at you.
Oh fuck.
His eyes immediately snap back to his monitor screen, swallowing thickly. The view he just saw almost made him bust right then and there, his balls pulling taut against his body. The sight of you looking up at him with your pretty eyes as you worked him over replaying in his mind.
"Shit, I’ve to pee really bad. I’ll be right back." Matt chokes out. Voice breathless with a subtle whine bleeding into his tone as he mutes himself and turns off his camera, leaving his brothers a little puzzled. Why’d he turn off his camera and mute his camera even though he simply went out of the room when he needed the bathroom before this?
But Chris and Nick shrug it off despite their suspicion and go back to talking to each other. Occasionally reading the chat while the game stays paused in the background as they wait for Matt to come back.
Matt on the other hand feels like he’s about to explode. Finally letting out the quiet, breathy moans and groans that were bubbling in the back of his throat, his hands found their way onto your head, fingers threading through your hair.
"Fuck- Oh, fuck– I’m so close. God, if you keep going like that-" He cuts himself off with a sharp inhale. A tremor runs through his thighs and his grip on your hair tightens subtly as you change it up again by taking him down your throat.
He groans, utterly wrecked, at the sight of your lips wrapped around his base, mouth stuffed full of his thickness. You sputter and cough around his base, but you don’t pull back for a few long seconds, enjoying the look on his face.
But you have to breathe so you reluctantly pull away, gasping for air as your hands work him in the meantime. Your lips curl at the corners as you chuckle breathlessly at the way he’s twitching in your touch. "You close, baby?"
Matt nods quickly, his breath catching in his throat as you twist your wrists. "Yes, fuck. Please, don’t stop."
The sound of his desperation is your cue to swallow his cock again. Your hands leave his shaft and instead grip his thighs for leverage as you begin to bob your head again. Each movement ends with his tip nestling in your throat before you pull back an inch or two, then repeating it all over again.
Deep throating him has Matt on the verge of his seat—quite literally.
He’s trying to breathe through it, but you’re not even letting him, and he knows he won’t last much longer. A mixture of your spit and his pre oozes down your chin in a long milky string that later connects with your cleavage.
"Fuck, I’m cumming-" Matt suddenly warns, gasping and groaning as he grips your hair tighter, pulling your face flush against his crotch in the heat of the moment.
You let him use your throat as his hips buck sharply a few times, your eyes watering as you feel his hot cum flood the back of your throat, leaving you no choice but to swallow it all.
Gulping down his release greedily, you feel a sense of accomplishment as you listen to your boyfriend’s moans turn into quiet whimpers as he finally releases your hair and slumps back against his chair.
You pull him out of your mouth with a wet pop, sighing as you slump forward. Placing your head on his lap right beside his spent cock, you look up at him with a soft smile, cheek squished subtly against his thigh.
Matt looks down at you with gratitude, satisfied beyond belief, limbs heavy and body buzzing with the remainder of his orgasm. His hand reaches down to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, voice all slow and soft as he mumbles. "That was… wow… You’re amazing, you know that?."
You chuckle, and lift your head to look at him better. "Yeah?"
"Yeah…" Matt murmurs, wiping the slickness on your chin from his precum and your spit. "C’mere."
You obey and slowly stand up, your legs feeling like jelly from sitting in the same position on his floor for so long. Matt immediately pulls you by your hips to straddle him. "Look at that… so messy." He comments on the sticky mix of liquids on your cleavage peaking out from your low neck tank top.
"Think it’s a mess down here too?" He teases as he cups you through your lounge shorts, feeling the heat radiating off you.
"Why don’t you find out?" You retort playfully, bottom lip getting stuck between your teeth as you grind down on his hand.
He half laughs, half groans, dropping his head on your shoulder. "You’re not playing fair... I’m getting hard again." He mumbles quietly like he’s embarrassed how fast his body reacts to you.
"Then I’ll just take care of it again."
Matt looks up. "You mean it?"
"Mhm…" Your lips curl into a devious smile as you decide to tease him further. "But this time with a different pair of lips."
Matt groans at that, and the next second, you’re hauled up from his chair with him and thrown on his bed. He immediately settles between your thighs, eyes dark, cheeks still flushed from his earlier orgasm.
"Different pair of lips huh?"
Your pulse jumps at his tone, and you nod slowly, biting your lip teasingly as you trail your manicured nails down his clothed chest. He shivers and groans again.
"God, I’m gonna fuck you so good…" He promises gruffly.
To be continued<3
© 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒏
WEAKNESS ── CHRIS STURNIOLO
⤷ masterlist ⟶ previous scene ⤷ cw . . . nothing really, just get ready to see how it all started and what happens when you go from rags to riches . . .
꒰ comment on this post to join series taglist ꒱
Chris had exactly $75.32 in his checking account, and zero in the savings.
Ten thousand dollars had disappeared that morning. Every cent he'd saved from working two jobs throughout college was now sitting in a business account under a company that barely existed.
COS Security was created with far more confidence than money.
At twenty-two, he'd graduated from NYU barely a month ago while juggling classes, internships, and two jobs. Sleep had become optional somewhere around sophomore year. Most people his age were starting new jobs; he was still an intern who barely made enough to get by.
He sat alone on a bench across from the entrance of the steakhouse. His internship supervisor, Richard Seinee, had invited him to his daughter's high school graduation dinner.
Normally, Chris would've declined. But this wasn't just any invitation; Richard Seinee wasn't only one of the most respected businessmen in New York. Besides, networking never hurt, and nor did a free dinner at a restaurant he'd never justify paying for himself.
He'd arrived almost an hour early. Going back to his tiny apartment only to return would've meant another bus fare. So he sat enjoying a cigarette. Chris checked the time on his watch, reading 6:50 PM. Richard had told him to arrive at seven.
A sleek black sedan pulled up to the curb. Richard climbed out from the driver's side, circled the vehicle, and opened the passenger door for a woman Chris assumed was his wife. A second later, Chris only caught a glimpse of long dark hair and a maroon dress. His daughter, he assumed. Josie? Jemma? Something like that.
He went inside ten after seven. The first thing that hit him was how everyone was dressed in expensive suits and designer dresses while he was in Black trousers and a plain white button-up. Fuck he wished he at least didn’t smoke before this.
The valet led him through the restaurant until they reached a private dining room tucked away at the back.
"Christopher!"
The moment Richard spotted him, his face lit up. "There he is."
Chris felt every pair of eyes in the room turn toward him. "Sorry if I'm late."
"You're right on time," Richard replied warmly, clapping a hand against his shoulder. He turned toward the table. "Everyone, this is Christopher Sturniolo. He interned under me these past couple of years now, bright young boy.”
A few people around the table chuckled and greeted him, and Chris gave an awkward nod of greeting. Richard gestured toward the empty chair at the far end of the table. Chris quietly thanked him before sitting.
Directly across from him sat the girl he'd only caught a glimpse of outside. His heart stalled.
Fuck.
She was beautiful. Long dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face that somehow managed to be both elegant and youthful. The deep maroon dress she wore complemented her warm complexion perfectly, and when she laughed at something someone beside her said, small dimples appeared in her cheeks.
Chris realized he'd been staring.
"Oh." Richard noticed. "Christopher, this is my daughter. Jenevieve. It's her graduation we’re all here for today. She’s heading off to Stanford this fall.”
Jenevieve offered him a small, slightly shy smile before lifting her hand in a little wave.
Chris forgot every word in the English language. Dumbass just say something. He didn’t know why his body was acting as if he’d never seen a pretty girl before.
"Jenn, Christopher's the intern I've told you about." Richard chuckled under his breath. “He just graduated from NYU last month.”
Jenn nodded and smiled as she remembered. The table flew into loud conversations. Chris couldn’t help but notice the little pile of designer gifts in the corner of the room that guests had brought for Jenn. Typical spoiled heiress.
“My dad talks a lot about you.” Fuck even her voice was pretty.
“Yeah?”
She nodded. "He still brings up that proposal you made last year. The one about restructuring their cybersecurity infrastructure. I think he mentions it at least once a month."
Chris shrugged. "It worked."
Silence settled between them.
"So..." Jenn tilted her head slightly. "I start at Stanford in the fall."
"Congratulations." Even the lord probably didn’t know why was he being so dry.
"You have any advice?"
"Go to class."
Jenn looked at him with an amused expression. "That's it?"
Not really. "Pretty much."
"I was hoping for something a little more inspirational, for someone I can’t stop hearing about." She took a sip of the drink and leaned forward. "But I guess my dad wasn't kidding. You're... very direct."
Chris, meanwhile, found himself studying her just as quietly.
She looked taken care of. Her nails were perfectly manicured, and her skin was smooth, untouched by cuts or calluses. Everything about her screamed a life he'd never known.
If this were a fairy tale, she’d be the pampered princess, while he was the village boy.
She probably never had to check her bank account before buying coffee or work a double shift before an exam because rent was due. They couldn't have been more different.
She caught him looking and lifted a perfectly shaped brow. "What?"
Chris simply shrugged and didn't answer. That earned him another dramatic grimace before the servers began setting plates down around the table.
Conversation quickly picked back up. He watched more than he spoke. Jenn fit into the room so naturally it was almost impressive. The perfect daughter. Even her table manners were immaculate.
Across the table, she drifted into conversation with a few girls around her age. Something about a graduation trip to Aruba and how they had to stay at the ocean villas.
A few minutes later, Jenn looked back at him. She tilted her head, passive. "You have a really interesting accent." That finally got his attention, and he raised an eyebrow. She laughed lightly. "No—not in a bad way. It's like you sound Italian and kind of Boston at the same time. It's unique."
Not bad. She was observant.
"Then I guess you answered your own question."
She smiled. His heart gave an embarrassing little thud. Jesus. Her eyes were ridiculous. Warm brown with tiny flecks of gold. They were expressive, with notes of playfulness and wit. He'd never seen eyes like that before.
"So..." she continued. "Are you originally from Boston or Italy?"
"Moved to Boston when I was eight."
"Oh." She rested her chin in her hand. "So you mostly grew up in Italy."
He nodded, and she kept asking him questions to which he just nodded or said yes or no. She seemed to have caught on to his blase attitude and let out a huff.
"You really don't waste words, do you?"
Chris looked at her for a second. "Not if I don't have to."
"I feel like interviewing you."
"I'm beginning to feel interrogated."
She grinned and laughed harder. "See? You are funny."
Chris looked down at his plate to hide the faint tug threatening the corner of his mouth. He had no idea why she was trying so hard to keep talking to him. It made him strangely nervous, which was annoying. Yet every time he looked up, those stupid, beautiful eyes were already looking back at him.
Dinner carried on for another hour. Every now and then, Richard would rope Chris into a conversation about work, but otherwise he was content sitting quietly at the end of the table.
By the time dessert had been finished, chairs began scraping across the floor. Someone suggested taking pictures before everyone left.
One of Jenn’s friends handed her a Polaroid camera. He'd forgotten those things still existed. Deciding his presence was no longer necessary, he folded his hands in front of him, content to disappear into the background.
"Christopher!" Jenn was waving him over. "C'mon!"
Before he could politely decline, another voice joined in.
"Oh, Christopher." Kitty Seinee appeared beside her daughter, already reaching for the Polaroid camera. "You should absolutely be in one. You are a handsome young boy. You need to be photographed. To show your mother maybe."
"No, that's alright. This is your family—"
"Nonsense," Kitty smiled warmly. "You've practically lived at Richard's office this past year." She gently nudged Jenn toward him. "Stand together." Jenn stepped beside him, close enough that the floral perfume reached his nose. The flash went off.
The Polaroid slowly slid out from the top of the camera, and Kitty gushed at the picture starting to show.
A young man around her age approached with an enormous bouquet of deep red roses wrapped in ivory paper, and he watched as her face lit up. She accepted the bouquet carefully, thanking him before pulling him into a quick hug.
The rich crimson petals rested against her maroon dress. It suited her perfectly, like a red rose in full bloom. For reasons he couldn't explain, an unfamiliar thought settled into his mind, wishing he’d been the one to give those to her.
He reached Richard and thanked him for the night and excused himself. His hand had just reached the door when hurried footsteps sounded behind him.
"Christopher!" Jenn jogged over, slightly out of breath. "Wait! The picture." Chris looked at the tiny photograph. “This copy is yours.” He gave a small nod as a thank you and took it from her soft hands. A faint pink dusted her cheeks, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before speaking again.
"Um..." She looked oddly nervous now as she pulled her phone from her purse. "I was wondering if maybe we could exchange numbers?" His heart skipped. "I know this coffee shop downtown that makes the best cinnamon lattes," She laughed awkwardly. "We could go sometime?"
For one dangerous second, he almost said yes, but his eyes dropped to the brand new phone in her hand. Instinctively, he felt the second-hand phone he’s had for years burn in his pocket. He imagined placing it beside hers; that comparison alone made embarrassment crawl up his neck.
"I don't really give my number out to eighteen-year-old girls."
Jenn's expression immediately shifted.
"Oh—I mean, I just thought we could hang out." A faint blush spread across her cheeks. "I'm a legal adult, if that's what you're worried about. My dad wouldn't mind." She cringed at herself. "I wasn't trying to hit on you or anything—I just figured... well... you're not that much older than me, so..." She stopped herself, looking thoroughly embarrassed. "Never mind."
Chris had to fight the urge to smirk.
Cute. Dangerously cute.
He forced himself to remain composed and voice curt. "You should be worrying about college. You've got four years ahead of you. Focus on that."
"I wasn't—" Her shoulders dropped ever so slightly, and she looked a bit upset and flustered. "Gosh, you are rude and presumptuous. I don’t even know where my father found you. I was trying to be civil."
His tone remained even, but it was hard not to be amused by the sudden fire in her eyes. "You seem smart. Stay that way." He watched her huff, annoyed. Something about being able to break down her perfect facade was exciting. "Be a good girl, Princess. Get your degree and stop asking strangers for their phone numbers."
She threw her hands up. "I genuinely hope my father gets rid of you."
"Do you?"
"Yes." She crossed her arms. "I hope he fires you."
"He can't. I'm an intern."
She glared at him for another second before spinning on her heel, her long hair whipping behind her.
"Congratulations," she called over her shoulder sarcastically. "You've officially ruined your first impression."
He smiled. Stubborn and sassy.
Fifteen minutes later, he sat on the bus. He reached into the inside pocket of his blazer and pulled out the Polaroid carefully.
He scoffed to himself, feeling silly he even thought for a second a girl like her would ever be with someone like him. Would she still have asked for his number if she'd known he had nothing to offer? Probably not. Jenevieve Seinee belonged with the kind of men she'd grown up around—like the boy who'd handed her that bouquet of roses.
He had the urge to prove to everyone that he would become something. He’ll become rich, he’ll become known, and the kind of man who could one day stand beside a woman like Jenn without feeling like he didn't belong.
Right now, she wasn't a possibility.
She was a dream.
And if he ever wanted even the slightest chance of deserving someone like half the one like her, he'd have to make COS Security work.
He slipped the Polaroid into his wallet, carefully tucking it away.
At the time, he had no idea that everything he was working toward would eventually fall into place. The young man riding home on a city bus would eventually be driving alongside it in a Porsche.
By the age of twenty-six, Chris had built COS Security into one of the fastest-growing cybersecurity firms in the country, amassing a net worth of hundreds of millions of dollars.
He became everything he’d wanted. Successful. A bachelor. Leader.
The only thing he hadn't accounted for was thinking of a certain woman while doing so. Every time he’d get tired or feel like giving up, her doe eyes would pop up in his head. He didn’t even know why. He didn’t want to think of her. But nonetheless, he did. She was like a goal he was subconsciously working towards without meaning too.
He didn’t see her once during the first four years he spent building himself. When he did see her again, it perfectly aligned with her finishing her undergraduate degree before returning to New York to complete a master's at NYU.
Chris had been in a meeting with Richard when she walked into her father's office during a meeting with a laptop and files in her hands. Her eyes moved to him, and they widened slightly.
Lord help him.
She looked even more beautiful than she had four years ago. There was a quiet confidence about her now that hadn't been there at eighteen, but she still had those same impossible eyes.
"Christopher," Richard said, oblivious to the internal crisis unfolding across the room. "You remember my daughter, don't you?"
As if I could ever forget her. "Of course."
"She's taking over as Head of Marketing earlier than we'd originally planned." He looked proudly toward Jenn. "Go on, sweetheart. Tell him."
"I'm finishing my master's, then I'm officially joining the executive team early next year." Yup, still sounded pretty too.
"Congratulations."
Richard clapped his hands together and pointed toward the conference room. "Give me two minutes." Without waiting for a response, he disappeared into the hallway.
"I've heard you're quite the catch these days." His eyes drifted back to her as she spoke. "I've heard you're set to make your first billion in about two years, and apparently the city's most eligible bachelor."
Chris couldn't help the faint amusement that tugged at one corner of his mouth. "You've been keeping tabs on me?"
"I haven't needed to." A subtle edge cut through her smile. "My father hasn't shut up about you since I left. If your name doesn't drop at least once per call, I start checking for a pulse."
“Sounds like it gets under your skin.”
Her eyes dragged over him, trailing an unspoken challenge. “You’re suddenly sitting on hundreds of millions, dominating every headline, and every board in Manhattan is practically begging for your time." She offered a sly, knowing smile. "It’s amazing how attractive a bank account can be."
Christopher caught the jab instantly. "Is that what you think this is?"
She offered a picture of innocent indifference.
"I built every single cent from the ground up, sweetheart," he said, his tone dangerously steady. "No safety nets, no trust funds, no hand-me-downs. I worked so my parents would never have to again, not the other way around. I earned every damn dime."
"I never said you didn't."
"No, you just implied I’m only successful because people are greedy for money," His eyes traveled down her—taking in the flushed lip stain, her high cheeks, and the iconic flash of red soles beneath her heels. "Which is a bit rich coming from you."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means..." A faint smirk pulled at his lips as he closed the distance between them. "You’re hardly qualified to lecture me on success."
"I'm not lecturing—"
"I’m sure you’ll take over your father's empire one day." He reached up, his fingers brushing against her cheek. Fuck, her skin was soft. “It’s your birthright, isn’t it? Handed to you on a silver platter. Which is fine—just don't act like we climbed the same mountain, Bella Rosa.”
The nickname hit its mark. A fresh wave of heat bloomed across her cheeks, but she quickly masked it behind a cold glare. "I forgot how arrogant you are, Christopher. First impressions really are accurate."
"All I’m saying is that I built my company with my own hands. I didn't have anything handed to me." Chris gently brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. “Not that you don’t deserve a seat at the table. You just took the expressway to get there.”
“I think you should fuck off.”
“I could. But that’s going to be pretty difficult considering how often you’ll be seeing me now.” He took a step back, turning on his heel to head toward the door.
“Lord help us all, then.”
There was something about her that warned him she’d be causing him endless heartache for years to come, and that he’d let her. Now that he had built an empire, there was nothing on this earth he couldn't give her.
Sure, maybe he barely knew her, but a king always knew when he’d found his queen.
“I don’t think even God can save you from me, bella rosa.”
“And why is that?”
A devilish grin passed his face.
“Perché un giorno sarai mia.” A second later, he was gone.
ceyana’s note: next scene will be present day. i love you, mwah <3
C.S | Pool Boy
(ᯤ) 𝓟𝓸𝓸𝓵 𝓑𝓸𝔂 - 𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷 𝓢𝓪𝓵𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓸, 𝓔𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓮
ⓘ smut, poolboy!chris x trophywife!reader, switch!chris, age gap (chris is 22 and reader is 30), dubcon, groping, voyeurism, cheating, praise, oral (m & f!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, size kink, dumbification (if you squint), breeding kink, chris is a little pervy
"...I think you missed a spot on your back. here, let me get it..."
dividers by @he-cannoli-foolhimself
It was one of those hot summer days. The sun was high in the sky, beating down over the neighborhood that smelled of freshly cut grass, savory barbecue, and a hint of citrus. Chris strolled over to your house which was just a few doors down from his, wearing a pair of black swim trunks and flip flops.
It was quite the arrangement. Chris would clean out your in-ground pool once a week, and in exchange, you'd pay him more than a reasonable amount of cash, let him go for a swim, and give him as many cold glasses of your home-made fresh-squeezed lemonade as he could possibly want. It was a win-win. You got a sparkling clean pool as well as a bit of eye candy, and Chris got some kind of relief from the grueling summer heat and some extra spending money.
Chris approached your front door, his finger tracing the door bell before he rang it, the chime sounding throughout your luxurious estate and echoing off the high ceilings. Your designer heels clicked sharply against the gold marble flooring, your ponytail bouncing with every step as you made your way to let the pool boy in.
"Chris, you made it," you greeted him with a smile, looking up at him after pulling open the heavy mahogany door open. Despite the eight year age difference and the height boost from your heels, Chris still towered over you. Your eyes flicked over his shirtless form.
"Wow, somebody's been working out." You reached out and subtly touched his bicep, your freshly-manicured hot pink nails grazing the skin that was stretched over his muscle.
A rosy blush rushed to his cheeks as he nervously ran his long fingers through his brown hair. "Thanks. I've been hitting the gym a lot this summer."
"Looks like it's paying off," you responded, giving him a playful little wink. "Come on in." You spun around, making your way back inside, Chris' eyes immediately dropping to your ass and your nicely-shaped legs that were peeking out from under your little white skirt that swayed in cadence with your stride.
"Where's your husband?" Chris wondered aloud, still ogling you as he shut the door behind him.
"Oh, you know. Business trip. The man's always working, but it's how he affords me," you laughed, strutting down the hallway and into the dining with Chris right on your heels.
It was true. You weren't just any kind of woman. You were a gorgeous, sophisticated woman with expensive taste, and you wouldn't have settled for a man who made anything less.
The thought of the two of you being all alone made his cock twitch.
"Glass of lemonade?" You offered, wandering over to a cabinet.
"Sure. I'd love one," Chris replied, licking his lips as he watched your skimpy top ride up to expose your back dimples while you reached for a tall glass on the top shelf.
"Just made a fresh batch this morning," you told him as you tugged open the fridge door, retrieving a glass pitcher from inside and filling Chris' cup to the top, the ice cubes and lemon slices making it look all the more refreshing and aesthetically pleasing. You plucked a little decorative umbrella and a pink bendy straw from a drawer, putting the final touches on the drink before sliding it across the stone slab countertop over to Chris.
"Thank you, ma'am," Chris nodded, taking the glass from you and taking a big gulp before letting out a satisfied sigh. "I'll go get started on the pool."
About twenty minutes later, Chris was in your backyard, his lemonade already half gone. He had already tested the chlorine levels of the pool and was skimming the leaves and debris from the top of the water with a net when you slipped outside in your little white bikini, your sunglasses, and a floppy sun hat.
In one hand, you held a martini glass, in the other, a small bottle of oil. Tucked under your arm was a book and slung over the other was your towel. Chris glanced up at the sound of the sliding glass door shutting behind you as you floated over towards your lounge chair.
"Hope you don't mind if I get a little sun bathing in while you work," you called out, setting up by the poolside and draping your towel over your seat before you plopped down on it.
"No, not at all," Chris shook his head, his blue eyes dancing over your figure once more. "Please do."
He fixed his gaze on your martini as you held it to your lips, secretly wishing he were the glass. Normally, you would just watch Chris from the big window in the dining room that faced the pool, and he never thought anything of it. Of course, you'd want to make sure he was doing it right and actually working, considering you were paying him by the hour.
But having you watch him up close and personal in your tight little bathing suit made him a little nervous. And undeniably excited.
He tried to focus on the job that needed to be done, but he caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye, sprawled out on your sun lounger, oiling up your arms and legs. Chris couldn't help but notice the way the sun rays hit your glowing skin while you delicately ran your hands over your body.
He swallowed hard. He knew how wrong it was to be staring at a married woman, imagining putting his hands where another man's belonged, but he couldn't control himself.
He'd always secretly been attracted to you. And how could he not? You were exactly his type. Polished. Elevated. Refined. A little older. Sexy as hell. And taken, of course. But the fact that he wasn't supposed to want you made him want you even more. Like forbidden fruit.
His jaw dropped and eyes widened as he witnessed you untie the string on your bikini top, revealing your voluptuous breasts underneath. You carelessly tossed the fabric off to the side like it was nothing before you drizzled a bit of oil on your chest, sensually rubbing it in.
Chris watched in awe, drinking in the sight as you squeezed your tits together, slowly running your hands over the swell of each one and softly rolling your nipples between the pads of your fingers. You let out a soft exhale, goosebumps blooming across your warm skin as you continued to tweak your sensitive buds that hardened under your touch.
He could have sworn you were putting on a show just for him. And he wasn't going to miss a second of it.
You spotted Chris, his mouth agape, his blue eyes locked onto the way you were massaging yourself with a desperate look on his face.
"I gotta even out these tan lines somehow," you shrugged and gave him a little smile. "You don't mind, do you?"
Chris could feel the blood rushing down below his waist before you could even finish your sentence. He nodded dumbly, gaze still fixed on you as he lazily moved the skimmer about in the pool. "I mean, no. I don't mind at all, ma'am."
He tried to subtly adjust the growing bulge in him swim trunks but both his erection and his attempts to hide it didn't go unnoticed by you. You smirked, putting some more oil on your hands before rubbing them together and massaging the liquid into your bare shoulders.
You couldn't deny how much you were eating up the attention. Sure, you were the type of woman who turned heads when you went out. It's not like you weren't used to attention, but it usually came from men you didn't particularly find attractive. Chris, on the other hand, was definitely your type. Brown hair, blue eyes, tan skin, and perfectly straight, white teeth.
Out of the corner of his eye, you could see him still staring. You didn't have any intentions of taking it any further. You just liked to tease him a bit. And you liked the ego boost, knowing that even though you were getting older, you could still pull a younger, attractive guy.
His lemondade glass sat perched in the sun on the patio table between the two of you, condensation sweating down the sides of it. Without taking his eyes off of you, he set the pool net on the ground and wandered a bit closer to you, picking up the glass and sipping from the straw. However, he was feeling thirsty for something else.
He watched as you slightly arched your back off the chair, trying to cover your lower back in oil. Soon after, you flipped over, revealing your perfectly plump ass as it swallowed the g-string of your bikini. He took in the sight of you, mesmerized by your body, realizing this was his opportunity to jump in.
"I think you missed a spot on your back. Here, let me get it," he rasped, licking his lips as he closed the space between the two of you.
"Oh, Chris. You don't have to-" you started to say, but he was already reaching for the oil. Sure, you were trying to tease him a bit but you didn't expect him to take the bait so willingly. A chill ran down your spine as you felt him drip the oil on your flesh.
"I don't mind," he told you, dominantly placing his hands on your midback, kneading the liquid into your sunkissed skin with his thumbs.
"Oh," you moaned, relaxing into the sensation. His hands were so strong.
"Gotta take care of this pretty skin of yours," he whispered, his large hands roaming lower and lower before settling on either side of your waist. He couldn't help but let his thoughts wander the same way. He ever so gently grabbed your hips, imagining pulling them towards him while hitting it from the back.
He was rock hard in his swim shorts now, the dirtiest of fantasies playing out in his mind as he manhandled you.
He picked up the bottle of oil, fighting every urge to use it to jerk off with. He drizzled more onto your skin, his hands dropping to the small of your back, pressing his thumbs into your back dimples, his eyes glued to your ass.
"Oh, Chris," you moaned, feeling immediate relief as he massaged you, letting yourself relax into the chair beneath you. The sound of his name escaping your lips in such a breathy manner drove him wild.
You knew you shouldn't be letting the pool boy touch you, especially without your husband home. It was definitely crossing a line, but a part of you secretly liked it. Plus, it's not like you were let him touch you inappropriately, right?
Suddenly, your eyes shot open and you reached around behind you to swat his hand away when you felt both of his palms on each of your ass cheeks, giving them a hard and deliberate squeeze. "Christopher!"
"I'm sorry. My hand slipped," he lied, feigning innocence.
You rolled your eyes. Of course, you didn't believe him. However, you couldn't deny how much it turned you on. He couldn't find that out, though, and your husband certainly couldn't find out. "Hands above the waist, okay?" You told him.
"Mhmm," he nodded dismissively, his hands finding their way back to your midback and your shoulders. He drew circles with his thumbs as he rubbed the oil into your hot, smooth skin, and you started to relax again.
Just when you were wondering if him groping you was truly a mistake, you felt his fingers stretch around your ribcage, brushing against the side of each of your breasts, causing you to jump. "Young man! What do you think you're doing?" You scolded him, whipping around to face him, lowering your sunglasses so they were resting on the tip of your nose as you shot him a glare.
"Ma'am. I swear. It was an accident. I'm just trying to help," he replied, pretending to be just so naive and holding his hands up defensively. "I was just trying to get your front. May I?" He asked sweetly.
You sighed before hesitantly responding, "Fine, but keep your hands only in the appropriate spots. You hear me?"
He nodded timidly, pouring more oil on his hands. You flipped over, laying on your back in your lounge chair as Chris pressed his thumbs into the sole of your right foot. "Mmm," an involuntary sound slipped out from behind your lips as he massaged your arch.
"So. Your husband gone a lot?" Chris chimed in, his intense blue eyes tracing the curves of your body and your breasts that were still on display.
"Unfortunately," you sighed. "I miss him."
"I bet you get so lonely," Chris responded in a low, textured voice. "I bet sometimes you just need a helping hand around here."
You chuckled, knowing damn well what he meant. You were determined not to play into it. "Not really. I'm a pretty independent woman. I do just fine taking care of myself, thank you very much."
"I'm sure you do, but I'm sure it would be nice every once in a while to have someone else take care of your needs," Chris' voice dropped even lower as he started to work his way up to your ankle.
You groaned under the feeling of his hands when he started to massage the lower part of your legs and your calves. "That's it. Just like that, Chris," you cooed.
His eyes were locked onto your mound, the way the your bathing suit hugged your puffy lips.
"You know, if you ever need anything else while your husband's away, like changing a lightbulb or car troubles. Even if you just need a little human touch, you know how to reach me." He worked his way up your leg, massaging the plush part of your thigh. "I mean it. If you need anything at all, I'm your guy."
You knew he was hitting on you, pushing the boundaries to see how far he could go, his hands wandering higher and higher, closing in on your heat. You knew you should stop him. You were married after all. It had already gone too far.
Suddenly, he paused for a moment, and just when you were starting to miss his hands, you heard him pop open the bottle of oil again before pouring it onto your lower stomach, dripping some onto your bathing suit bottoms. He smeared the shiny oil around on your abdomen, his palm gently brushing over your mound as he rubbed it in.
"Oops," he said half-heartedly as he watched the oil seep through the fabric, rendering the white material practially see through at this point. His mouth watered at the sight of your cunt peeking back at him. He brushed his thumb over your slit, making you shudder.
He expected you to slap him or grab him by the wrist, or at the very least, scold him and protest. However, you didn't stop him. You didn't say a word. You just uttered a breathy sigh. He pressed down gently on your clit through the fabric, drawing small circles as he watched for your reaction.
"Chris.. I'm a married woman," you finally broke the silence. "Happily married."
Chris didn't stop. He just glanced around for a moment before bringing his gaze back to you. "I don't see your husband anywhere."
The way he said it made your stomach flip.
"Chris, we shouldn't be doing this," you weakly protested, the words losing their meaning when you let him continue. With every stroke of his thumb, another moral of yours went out the window.
His cock jumped, twitching against the fabric of his shorts. He loved how wrong it was. He loved that you knew how wrong it was, but that your body needed it so badly that you wouldn't dare stop him at this point.
"I know. We really shouldn't be doing this," he agreed, but he didn't stop. "Just like your husband shouldn't be leaving you all alone with the pool boy. And just like you shouldn't be stripping down in front of me while I'm trying to work." Chris continued drawing tight circles on your bundle of nerves through your oiled up bottoms. "It's too late for all that, though, isn't it?" He gave you a devious smirk, his blue eyes consumed by lust.
He paused for a moment, watching how you'd react to the sudden loss of stimulation. You ever so slightly bucked your hips up until his thumb was pressing down on your clit once more. He had you right where he wanted you, desperate and writhing beneath him.
"You'd better not tell my husband about this," you softly whispered, letting him have his way with you.
"You'd better not tell your husband about this," Chris commented back, slowly undoing your bikini bottom string.
He untied the right side first. Then the left. Then he slowly peeled them away from your body, giving him a perfect and unobstructed view of your immaculate pussy. He leaned in closer, admiring every fold, his hot breath ghosting over your heat and making you shudder.
"Chris," you whimpered as he spread you open with his long fingers.
"Look at this perfect fucking pussy," he mumbled gruffly, leveling himself between your legs. He wrapped his strong arms around your thighs, roughly pulling you closer towards him, making you gasp.
You tipped your head back, your floppy hat falling off and joining your bikini on the ground as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole up your slit and to your clit. "Oh, Chris," you sighed, letting your eyes flutter shut for a moment as he repeated that a few times, licking slowly, deliberately, and delicately.
"You taste so fucking good," he rasped, one hand resting on your lower stomach as he worked on you with his mouth.
You were almost caught off guard by how dominant he was and the way he was speaking to you. He was always somewhat professional when he came over - "No, ma'am," "Yes, ma'am." You certainly hadn't heard him talk dirty before, and you loved it. It made you think that maybe he'd been fantasizing about this as long as you had.
He teased you some more, flattening his tongue and softly flicking it over your sensitive bud, lapping you up. His gaze flickered up at you, his blue eyes meeting yours as he closed his lips down around your bundle of nerves, suckling on it. Your toes curled as he hummed against your heat, his lips vibrating against your clit. You whimpered, running your long fingernails through his hair, gently tugging on it.
"You're doing so fucking good," he purred against you, alternating between licking and sucking. You felt him circle your entrance with a finger before pushing it in, making your jaw drop in response.
"Chrissss," you hissed, feeling yourself tighten around his knuckle. He chuckled against your cunt at your body's response before slipping in another finger. He doubled his efforts, using a combination of his tongue and fingers, making you cry out. He glanced up at you a moment, his blue eyes boring through you, sending an electrifying feeling through you.
"Your husband do it like this?" He wondered aloud, making your stomach swirl with arousal.
"That's not very nice. To ask about my husband in a situation like this," you teased him, shooting him a wicked little grin.
"Sorry," he half-heartedly apologized. "But does he?" He asked again, curiosity getting the best of him.
It turned you on even more to know that your husband was on his mind, like he was competing with him even if he wasn't there, hoping he was doing an even better job than your man could.
"Not quite like that," you replied breathlessly.
"What a shame. Guess it's a good thing I'm here. To show you how it's properly done." A mischevious smile curled on his lips before he went back to devouring you.
You could feel heat rushing to your cheeks. You'd never felt so flustered by someone younger than you.
The coil in your stomach grew tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. He continued to drive his long fingers into you, his skillful tongue drawing tight, small circles over your clit while he suckled on it.
You started to come undone, your body trembling beneath his touch, his seductive eyes locked onto yours the entire time as he finger-fucked you and licked you through your first orgasm of the day, his name uncontrollably rolling off the tip of your tongue over and over again.
"Look at what a mess we made," he smirked up at you, slurping up every last drop of your arousal.
He retreated from between your legs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his hard on more prominent than ever through his swim shorts.
"Come here," you cooed, shooting him a wicked grin. You hooked your manicured fingernails in his waistband, pulling him closer by the material. "Let me take care of you now."
He licked his lips and eagerly nodded, his face softening into a more submissive expression. You ran your long, pink nails over his length through the fabric, making it twitch under your touch. A smile curled on your lips at the reaction.
He looked down at you, his blue eyes full of desire. He watched intently as you lowered his waistband, his cock springing out enthusiastically. Your eyes widened when you saw how long and thick it was. You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, starting to stroke him while admiring his swollen pink tip that was slick with a layer of precum. "It's so big," you commented.
He blushed, biting down on his lip to hold back a whimper, eagerly waiting for what you were going to do next.
You kept stimulating him with your hand, gently brushing your thumb over his tip, drawing out more of that clear fluid that made the head look so shiny. He shuddered under your touch, his cock throbbing in your grasp. You couldn't resist not tasting it any longer.
He parted his luscious lips, letting out a soft exhale as you dragged your tongue over his slit, savoring his salty flavor. You pulled back his length, exposing the underside of his cock and licking a long stripe from the base to the head, tracing a prominent vein.
His hand immediately found the back of your head, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair as you took his tip into your mouth, wrapping your lips around it and gently sucking on it. He felt like he was in heaven.
"Oh, my god," he whimpered, his gaze flickering between your pretty eyes and your soft, wet mouth. "Please don't stop."
You continued to pump your hand back and forth as you took more of him, your lips sliding down his length and your tongue circling his tip. He pinned his eyebrows together, contorting his face in a look of sheer pleasure as you took every inch of him. He tightened his grip on your hair, his lips curving into a satisfied smile.
"Your husband is a very lucky man," he commented, his glazed over eyes locked on yours. "It's never felt this good before."
His flattery turned you on all over again. Hearing that he'd never had it this good before invigorated you. You doubled your efforts, hollowing out your cheeks, sucking a bit harder, your soft tongue grazing every ridge and every vein as you continued your ministrations.
You hummed around his cock, the vibration sending an electric feeling through his lower half and making him moan. You kept going, bobbing your head back and forth and twisting your wrist on the upstroke, adding an extra layer to the sensation.
Chris slowly started to lose his composure, the knot is his stomach pulling tighter. His breaths became ragged, the sloppy wet sounds of your mouth mixing with his desperate moans.
You prayed that your neighbors weren't outside to hear, all of them completely aware your husband was out on business and that today was pool cleaning day. It wouldn't have taken a detective to connect the dots.
He gently tugged on your hair, pulling you all the way down onto his cock, making you gag a bit, his hips stuttering involuntarily at the feeling. He tossed his head back, pinning his eyes closed, pleasure inscribed into his features. His orgasm crashed over him, his cock twitching uncontrollably between your lips, painting your tongue silky white.
A guttural moan fell from his lips, the aftershocks still coursing through him as you slowly and gently stroked him through the sensation, slurping up and swallowing every last drop. He peered back down at you, his eyelashes fluttering open as he silently wondered to himself if he were dreaming.
"Wow," was all he could utter once you pulled off him with a pop, giving him a teasing smirk.
"Want some more lemonade?" You asked him, glancing over at his nearby empty glass.
He nodded. "I'd love some, ma'am. Please."
You gave him a little wink, not buying his little polite and innocent facade after what he'd done to you, and what he'd let you do to him. "Be right back." You waltzed inside, completely naked, your bikini still in a pile by the pool ledge.
You came back out with a fresh glass, and Chris gulped it down eagerly, feeling parched from how many fluids you'd drained him of.
Sure, the both of had already cum, but you weren't finished with him quite yet.
Moments later, you had him completely naked, leaning back on your lounge chair as you straddled him, lining his tip up with your entrance. He peered down at the way you slipped it in, his jaw dropped and his blue eyes full of lust.
"Oh, my god," he moaned, throwing his head back as he felt your warmth envelope him. You sunk down onto his length, the wonderful stretch causing your walls to flutter around him.
"It's so big," you cooed again, sitting all the way down on it until every inch was inside of you. He throbbed at your compliment, a word he loved hearing in relation to his cock.
"Bigger than your husband's?" He piped up, his blue eyes locked onto yours.
"Christopher," you replied, smirking at him as you placed a finger to his lips, teasing him. "That's not a very polite question."
"I-I'm sorry," he whimpered beneath you as you started to ride him, swiveling your hips in a way that left his head feeling completely empty.
You wouldn't admit it, but he was bigger.
His eyes dropped to your breasts bouncing in front of him as you started to pick up the pace, his hand involuntarily flying up to cup the right one. His other hand found your waist, enjoying every second of your warmth and the sweet sounds of your pussy sucking him in.
He'd only ever experienced you like this in dreams and in his fantasies. He couldn't believe he was actually inside of you while you bounced on his cock, drawing him closer and closer to the point of no return.
All he could think about was how incredible your pussy felt wrapped around him, and all he could bring himself to mutter were unintelligible moans as you started to bring him to the edge, riding him like your life depended upon it.
"Gonna cum," he mumbled, throbbing inside of you, about to bust at any moment.
You continued bouncing on him, peering down at his rosy cheeks and his desperate and fucked out expression. He looked beautiful.
"I-I can't hold on. Gonna cum," he warned again, gripping your waist tightly with both of his hands like he was trying to lift you off of him despite how incredible it felt. "Gotta pull out."
"Shhh, just let go," you hushed him, slowing down a bit and exaggerating the movement of your hips, your walls massaging his most sensitive spots. "I don't want you to pull out."
That was all he needed. That little bit of permission. He held your hips in place, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he thrusted into you from underneath, the tip of his cock hitting all your hard-to-reach places.
"Oh, Chris!" You called out as he pounded into you, taking charge as you both came undone in unision.
You clenched around him as you finished, the sensation sending him over the edge seconds after. His cock pulsated, several spurts of cum squirting out of his tip and pumping you full, moans spilling from his lips.
He looked up at you through his dazed expression, completely breathless before burying his face in your breasts, his arms wrapped around your waist. "Wow," he mumbled into your soft skin. "That was amazing."
You placed a hand gently on the back of his head, softly ruffling his hair as you held him, still sitting on his cock as it still subtly twitched inside of you. "You did so good."
CHRISTOPHER WHAT THE FUCK!?!
bitch i SCREAMED.
he’s fucking INSANE OMFG. 😩😩
you WHORE.
WEAKNESS ── CHRIS STURNIOLO
⤷ masterlist ⟶ previous scene ⤷ cw . . . angst, emotional confrontation, crying, heartbreak, grief, regret, unresolved feelings . . .
꒰ comment on this post to join series taglist ꒱
The morning of Jenn's engagement party took place in the first week of April. The official announcement had been sent out two weeks prior, and New Yorkers were shocked by the news of the engagement. The union of two prominent old-money families always stirred excitement, as it meant yet another bachelor was off the market.
She spent the day running errands before the doors were set to open at six. For the past month, she hadn’t felt like herself. She was always tired, making small mistakes, and her mind was constantly crowded with problems. She felt stressed, and she could thank a certain security CEO for that. Tonight, nearly half of the city's high society would be there to celebrate her and Braxton. She didn’t have time, nor did she want to dwell on him.
At the moment, she was on her way to his office to discuss a few things she wanted him to handle for the evening. They hadn't seen each other in two days but had only called to do check-ins.
Braxton's temporary small office was located a bit outside New York in a more industrial area. His company was responsible for helping new buildings and landscapes come together.
When she entered the building, she nodded at the guy at the front desk, who smiled and told her to keep going. As she neared the door, she noticed it wasn't fully shut. It sat slightly ajar, just enough for the voices inside to carry. Her hand closed around the doorknob as an unfamiliar woman's voice.
Jenn stilled, withdrawing her hand. She should've walked away. She knew that. Eavesdropping was invasive... but she never claimed she was above it. So she listened.
"You told me you'd figure it out." A woman's voice sounded hurt.
"I told you..." Braxton exhaled heavily, his voice laced with exhaustion. "Willow, it's... It's over. There's nothing I can do."
Willow?
"Why didn't you tell me you were engaged?" the girls whos name was apparently Willow asked, her voice breaking. "Do you have any idea what it felt like finding out the love of my life had been engaged for almost a year while I was sitting around waiting for him?"
"I told you not to wait, Willow."
"You told me to have hope."
"I'm marrying Jenn."
"But how can she possibly love you more than I do, Brax?" Her voice was teary. She sounded absolutely gutted.
"She doesn't," he admitted quietly. "She just... I don't know. But we have an understanding between us."
Jenn blinked, but oddly enough, the words didn't hurt the way she'd expected them to. Instead, they settled somewhere inside her with an eerie sense of confirmation.
"So you're admitting it," Willow let out a watery laugh. "You're marrying her because she fits the life you've always wanted, and I don't." No answer. "Say it, Braxton. She's old money, and I'm just the middle-class girl you were too embarrassed to choose."
"Willow, you know that's not true." His chair scraped softly against the floor. "I fought for us. God, I fought for us for years. But eventually…eventually I couldn't make it work. I'm sorry."
A quiet sob came to answer him.
Jenn almost flinched at the sound. The conversation should have shattered her. Instead, all she could think was, of course. She had never mistaken whatever existed between her and Braxton for some sweeping love story. They'd built something stable and respectful. Friends in a relationship.
"Willow... you know I'll always love you."
Those seven words rooted Jenn to the spot.
"But...I love Jenn now too." Braxton's voice cracked beneath the weight of his own confession. "She's my future. I don't want to hurt you anymore. I couldn't protect you from my family before, and I can't keep asking you to wait for something that isn't going to happen. I'm almost thirty, Willow. My family's been expecting me to marry for years."
"So that's it?" Willow whispered. "You finally found someone they approve of."
"It's not about approval."
"It is." Her voice trembled. "Maybe not to you anymore, but it always was to them."
"They would've made your life miserable."
"They already did." Another silence settled between them. “But I would've endured it again if it meant I got to be with you."
The room was quiet except for uneven breaths. Then came the sound of footsteps. Jenn instinctively took a step back. The office door swung open.
A woman emerged, hastily wiping at her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater. She was tall with a sharp bob that brushed her jaw. Their coloring was strangely similar, though Willow's hair was a shade lighter, and intricate black tattoos wound from her wrist to the top of her shoulder, disappearing beneath the sleeve of her blouse.
For one disorienting second, Jenn thought she was looking at another version of herself.
Willow’s tear-filled eyes widened as they landed on Jenn. Realization settled over her face almost instantly.
"Of course you're beautiful in real life too."
With that, she hurried past Jenn before either of them could say another word, one hand covering her mouth as fresh tears escaped, while Braxton still stood inside his office.
"I'm not going to pretend I didn't hear all of that." Her voice was calm. "So... I'd appreciate it if you just told me the truth."
Brax held her gaze for a long moment before gesturing toward the chair across from his desk, and Jenn sat. "I don't want to lie to you." Jenn nodded and muttered a thank you. "That was my ex."
"I assumed that part."
"She moved out of state for graduate school a little over two years ago, and she only found out about our engagement today. The way things ended between us..." He exhaled through his nose. "It wasn't exactly clean. I may have left her with the impression that if the timing ever worked out, we'd find our way back to each other."
Jenn's brows knit together. "So she thought you were waiting for her."
He nodded once.
"Do you still love her?"
Brax hesitated for a brief moment before looking down, then meeting Jenn's gaze again. "No, I loved her for a long time, but I don't anymore, and I can't. I've accepted that chapter of my life is over. I love you now, Jenn."
She looked at him in silence, sensing that his words didn’t resonate quite as she had expected. It felt as though he was trying very hard to convince himself of what he was saying.
After everything that had happened between her and Chris, it felt almost hypocritical to scrutinize Braxton too harshly for a relationship that had ended before they'd even met. Nor get angry for not telling her sooner. It's not like she ever told him about Chris.
"Thank you for telling me the truth."
Brax reached across the desk and gently took her hand. "I don't want there to be secrets between us." Neither of them noticed that both of them had just told a truth, while carefully avoiding an even bigger one.
After the tension in the room settled, Jenn spoke to him about tonight. But there was still an odd lingering tension between them, especially from Braxton as she spoke. Like his mind was far away.
By the time she left the office and was in the hall where it was taking place, it was four in the afternoon. She had to get ready. She was in her robe and doing her makeup. Her mother was straightening the dress she would be wearing, very silent.
Kitty had been a little wary that the engagement was so soon, and that the wedding was even sooner, even though Jenn tried to tell her it was all good. Her father was fond of Braxton, her mother was too, but not as much.
"If you have something to say, Mom..." Jenn unclasped her earrings and set them on the vanity. "Now's probably the time."
Kitty looked up from where she sat on the edge of the bed. "I don't have anything to say, sweetheart."
Jenn gave her a knowing look through the mirror. "You do. You've barely involved yourself in any of the wedding planning. You only threw me the party a few weeks ago because Grandma would've been offended if we skipped the tradition." Mothers always threw their daughters small, only close family engagements.
"It's not like that, darling."
"So what is it?" Jenn's frustration finally surfaced. "You don't like Braxton?"
"Oh, honey..." Kitty immediately crossed the room. "It's not that at all. I do like Braxton."
Jenn searched her mother's face. "You hardly ask about him. When he comes over for dinner, you barely talk to him. Dad approves of him completely. So why don't you?"
Kitty gently brushed a strand of Jenn's hair behind her ear sadly. "I do approve. He comes from a wonderful family. I just...I think everything's happening very quickly. It's only been a year."
"You married Dad three months after you started dating." Kitty smiled despite herself at Jenn's comment. "And besides, you and Dad are the ones who've been reminding me for years that I should start thinking about marriage. You've mentioned it practically every day. But now that I actually am getting married, you're hesitant?"
Kitty's expression softened. "I wanted you to marry because you found the right person. Not because you felt it was time. I was pushing you to at least date someone.”
"He's everything you've ever said I should look for."
Kitty looked at her daughter for a long moment. "Yes. He is. I just always imagined you'd end up with..." Her voice trailed off, and she didn’t continue, shaking her head, saying Forget it.
Jenn frowned. "Who?"
Kitty looked almost reluctant to answer.
"I just always thought you’d find your way to Christopher."
Now that wasn't what she had expected her mother to say.
"That's ridiculous, Mother. We never even dated. We weren't even—" Memories of late-night phone calls and broken promises flooded her mind before she forced herself to continue, "—we weren't anything. I don't even know where you got that from." She hoped her mother didn’t see the way her voice cracked.
"I know, darling." Kitty smiled softly. "It's just...Christopher was quite smitten with you. He'd even ask your father how you were while he was in Italy after his mother passed." Kitty's expression grew gentler. "And about that, I wish you could've brought him a little comfort during such a difficult time."
Guilt settled heavily in Jenn's chest. "I... I sent flowers," Even if she'd made sure the card read From the Seinee family instead of just her name. "...anyway. Christopher and I were never anything. We never even got started."
"But he wanted you."
Jenn's throat suddenly felt dry. "You don't know that, Mother."
"I know the way he looked at you." Kitty gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "And I saw the way you looked back. You looked at him with more conviction than I've ever seen you look at Braxton."
Her heart cracked.
"Well, it doesn't matter." Jenn's voice was sharper than she'd intended. "I'm marrying Brax."
Kitty walked over and cupped Jenn's face like she had when she was little. Despite being a full-grown woman, a mother was always going to be a mother.
"I only want one thing for you, darling. I want you to be happy." Her thumb brushed away a loose strand of hair. "If Braxton is the man who gives you that happiness, then I'll welcome him into this family with my whole heart."
Kitty sensed the conversation had reached its end.
"Enough of all this. You haven't eaten properly today, have you? I'm going downstairs to fix you a plate before everyone starts arriving. I refuse to let my daughter faint at her own engagement." Kitty pressed one last kiss on Jenn's forehead. "I'll be back in a few minutes." Then she left the room.
Jenn remained standing in front of the vanity. Almost absentmindedly, she twisted the engagement ring around her finger. Her mother's words echoed relentlessly in her mind.
"Christopher was quite smitten with you."
She squeezed her eyes shut but now heard his voice.
"I can't be the man who watches you marry someone else."
She opened her eyes again. Her mother's voice echoed back.
"I've seen you look at Christopher with more conviction than I've ever seen you look at Braxton."
Ever since Christopher had come back, everything she'd spent the last year and a half convincing herself of had begun to unravel. When his mother died, he hadn't returned to New York straight away; she'd told herself he'd chosen to stay in Italy because he'd moved on. So she did the same.
Then he'd walked back into her life, and suddenly nothing felt certain anymore. The future she'd worked so hard to accept didn't fit the way it had before. Needs, wants, and desires she'd spent months suffocating clawed their way back to the surface.
Braxton was safe. Chris never had been.
Braxton was predictable. Chris never let her know whether she'd end the day wanting to kiss him or throw something at his head. One offered peace. The other made her feel painfully, terrifyingly alive.
She'd never been someone who chose safe. Everything she'd ever been proud of had come from taking chances other people had been too afraid to take. So why had she chosen differently when it came to love?
Staring at herself in the mirror, she only saw doubt.
For the first time since Braxton had slipped it onto her finger, it felt heavy. Like she was wearing some other woman's ring. The tears she'd been fighting all afternoon finally threatened to spill over. A sense of urgency that she chose the wrong—
A soft knock sounded against the bedroom door. She dabbed the corner of her eyes before any tears could escape and tightened her robe. She didn’t want her mom to see her crying.
"It's open."
The handle turned, and the figure that came through stopped everything inside her.
Christopher stood quietly in the entrance, one hand still resting on the doorknob, dressed in a tailored black suit that somehow looked just as out of place as he did. His eyes found her immediately, then slowly traveled over her, lingering for only a moment before returning to her face. A faint sad smile tugged at his lips.
“What are you doing…” Jenn's voice cracked. “You can’t be in here—”
“I know.” His answer came gently. “I just… I just want to ask for five minutes of your time. Please. If you have it.”
They both knew he wasn't invited to the engagement. He had to have snuck in. Not that it would have taken the security much persuading to let him in.
She swallowed. He didn’t sound like he was here to fight. But he was also the last person she wanted to see right now. Something in her heart told her that if Chris asked her not to marry Brax again… she might listen. Consequences be damned.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
Ouch.
"Or more so, clear the air, one last time before..." She watched him fight the words, Before you get married. He couldn't bring himself to say them. "...before we go our separate ways."
Chris took a few slow steps into the room before stopping at a respectful distance.
"Chris, you don't have to apologize."
"I do."
"No, you—"
"I haven't been fair to you." He didn't let her finish. "I know that. Ever since I came back, I kept asking you to choose me. I kept showing up expecting you to still be standing exactly where I left you."
Jenn felt tears threatening again. "Chris..."
"I've been angry." He admitted it plainly. "Angry at the timing, at myself, and most of all angry that I lost years that I can never get back. And I took that anger out on you."
The words sounded like they physically hurt him.
"I don't want either of us to spend the rest of our lives carrying resentment because we never said what needed to be said." He took another small step forward. She didn’t want him to come closer; she was afraid she’d do something she’d regret. "I don't want you walking into your new life thinking I hated you or that I wanted to hurt you. Because I never could."
His eyes revealed how hard this was. Emotions battered at his put-together facade. Sadness, regret, love. They all tried to hide behind his forced smile. But he shouldn't be the only one apologizing right now. Jenn could feel the water falling gently down her cheek.
"No, Chris, I should be sorry." Her tears spilled freely, and every word came out in hiccups. "I hope you know I didn’t mean most of the things I said. I've been cruel because it was easier than admitting I was hurt. Which is why it was harder to accept why you would even say you love me in the first place. I've hurt you—"
Chris was already shaking his head before she'd even finished. "Don't apologize, bella." She looked up at him. Christopher Sturniolo had always carried himself like a man impossible to shake, but right now he looked heartbroken. "I just want you to be happy, and I've accepted that if he makes you happy, then that's enough for me."
It was a lie.
They both knew it. But he clearly wanted it to become true.
"If you ever need anything, you can always call me, okay?" They both knew she wouldn’t call. "Whether it's next week or ten years from now. You'll always have me."
Jenn's face crumpled. God, he was making this so hard.
"You don't stop being important to me just because..." His gaze drifted to the ring on her finger. "...life turned out differently." He inhaled slowly before forcing another small smile. "Tell Braxton, I said congratulations. He doesn't know how incredibly lucky he is to marry a woman as extraordinary as you."
His eyes returned to her.
"You look beautiful, Jenn."
His gaze lingered on her for one heartbeat longer than it should have. Slowly, quietly, he took her in. As though he were committing every detail to memory. He gave the smallest nod to himself, as if he'd finally seen enough to carry with him. His eyes were filled with so much emotion it almost frightened her.
He took one slow step toward her and lifted a hand with agonizing care, as his palm settled against her cheek. She instinctively leaned into the touch despite herself. His thumb brushed a tear before it had the chance to fall. Slowly, the other hand came up to cradle the opposite side of her face.
He simply looked at her, for what felt like years, before he leaned forward and placed an achingly soft kiss on her forehead. One that carried every I love you he no longer had the right to say.
He pulled away.
"Be good to each other, Bella."
That was the last thing he said before he let his hand fall. The absence of his touch was agonizing as Chris took a single step back, then turned and walked away from her until he was gone.
She stared at the closed bedroom door as if it might open again. As if he'd tell her none of this was real. Then her body moved before her mind caught up. She rushed toward the door, her hand already reaching for the handle.
Her heart pounded so violently it hurt.
Go after him.
Her eyes dropped to the diamond resting on her finger. Reality came crashing back. Braxton. The guests. Her parents downstairs. Her engagement party. The life she'd already chosen.
Painfully, she let go of the handle, and a strangled sound escaped her throat.
Instead of opening the door, she locked it before her knees gave out. She crumpled to the floor, her back against the door, as sob after sob tore its way out of her. Each one ripped through her chest so violently she struggled to catch her breath.
Maybe Christopher had never been the problem. She had been. She'd spent so long convincing herself that he'd betrayed her, but she knew he did it because he knew she felt second to him. She was insecure. Her life was a product of every decision she'd made, and now marrying Brax no longer felt like a choice—it felt like the consequence of all of them.
Chris had always come back no matter how badly they argued or stubborn they both became. He always found his way back to her.
Even if she didn’t want to agree with her mother, Jenn had also always believed that no matter how messy things became, she and Chris would eventually find their way back to each other.
Yet, this time it felt final.
There had been no pleading, which meant he wasn't going to fight for her anymore. He was letting her go. She felt hypocritical crying about it. She was the one who begged him to move on. Yet the moment he finally seemed ready to do it, it felt like someone had reached into her chest and torn something out.
She met Chris when they were young and he was everything she hated, and lost him when she realized she loved him, and he was everything she wanted.
ceyana’s note: keep the theories coming! i love you, mwah <3
© 𝐂𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎
˖ ࣪ . ࿐✶ OBSESSION . . . C.S & M.S
⤷ in which . . . matt & chris have been silently observing and obsessing over you from afar. one night, they can’t handle their erupting temptations, and decide to share you, and show you just how obsessed they truly are.
⤷ warnings . . . smut, threesome, (no incest) COMPLETELY CONSENSUAL!!! themes of stalking, dark romance, unprotected sex, switch!matt & chris, making out, oral (m!receiving), dirty talk, degradation and praise mix, neck sucking/kissing, fingering, riding, handjob, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, light choking, use of pet names, missionary postion, teasing, some plot involved, boob play, cum swallowing. this obviously doesn’t reflect matt and chris as the people they are irl, this is just for writing purposes only!!!
𝔀ritten by @/delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)
⤷ this was actually supposed to be a lot longer but…i wouldn’t have finished it in time….I’M SORRY IF THIS SUCKS OR SEEMS LAZY :((((( i had a completely different vision for this
you found it all to be quite odd, really. you didn’t know what it was about you—whether it was your looks or your personality, you couldn’t quite place what features or characteristics of yours were so compelling, so compelling that it led to such a deep rooted obsession.
or, obsessions.
you’ve known matt and chris for a while, you’ve seen them around your neighborhood a bunch, or out and about in public. actually, you see them around more often than you’d like to admit. and if you were completely honest…you didn’t mind at all. they were both extremely handsome, and there was absolutely no doubt about that, it made you smile knowing how head over heels they were just for you.
from the moment matt and chris first got even the slightest glimpse of you, they were entranced, captivated by you. they memorized everything about you—from your coffee order and the way you dress, all the way down to your schedule.
and that’s how you ended up where you are tonight.
the warmth of your blanket surrounded you as you laid in bed, mindlessly scrolling on your phone, when suddenly you received a mysterious text from matt.
you could’ve sworn your heart dropped, but a knowing smile quickly plastered onto the corners of your mouth as you glanced to your right as instructed, which brought your window into view.
you raised an eyebrow in confusion, no one was at your window. you got up from your bed and walked over to your window in anticipation, looking out. the sky was pitch black, the only thing illuminating it was the moon shining over the neighborhood.
then, you looked a little closer, suddenly seeing two familiar tall figures in the shadows outside, standing right below your window, but it’s so dark you can’t quite tell who is who. one of the silhouettes titled their head at you when you looked at them. you couldn’t tell whether it was matt or chris who performed the gesture, but either way it made you feel thrilled in a way you’ve never felt before.
you unlock your window and slide it open, peaking your head through. “you guys gonna stand there forever or climb through?” you ask tauntingly. one of them laughs, it sounds like chris.
“bold of you to assume climbing through is the only way we can get through.” chris speaks, in a mysterious and dark tone. you blink in confusion, about to open your mouth, but before you can, they’re already moving—to your front door.
it’s silent for a few minutes, the unsettling kind that uncomfortably fills the atmosphere all around you as you anticipate what their next moves could possibly be. why were they walking toward your front door anyway? it’s not like they have a key—
you’re snapped out of your thoughts by an echoey “click” noise. you could swear you hear your front door creak open and back shut. your pulse quickens as you step back, hearing footsteps carefully climb up your stairs.
“you really need a better spot for your spare key, love.” a voice, sounding a lot like matt’s, beams through your room, slightly raspy.
“wha—how’d you know where it was…?” your voice is slightly shaky. matt and chris walk further into your room and now you can finally see them. they look handsome, that’s for sure, brunette hair swooping over their eyes slightly, they both have light facial hair as well.
“we just pay attention, closer than you think. kinda hard to keep our eyes off of such a pretty girl like you, hm?” chris replies to your frantic question. you know exactly what he means by that—they’ve been watching you more than you realized. however, you’d be lying if you said that didn’t turn you on just a little bit. they step closer, taking in your current appearance. you were only in a t-shirt and a lace thong, since you’d just been relaxing at home.
“don’t take your eyes off of me, then.” the words slipped off your tongue in such a sultry manner that it made matt and chris even more desperate to just fuck you dumb, more desperate than they already were.
matt suddenly can’t take it anymore, he’s directly in front of you in one quick stride, you gasp as his hands come down to your waist, gripping tightly. “we won’t,” he whispers. “but you know what else? it’s also hard to keep our hands off of you as well.” matt murmurs, you suddenly feel chris behind you, his hand wrapping around to your neck, pulling you back against his chest.
“i think we need to show her just how obsessed she makes us, yeah?” chris teases, his head dipping down to the side of your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin while still holding you from behind. a whimper slips from your mouth as matt simultaneously places his lips against yours. the kiss isn’t at all gentle—it’s fueled with fire, and need. matt’s hands tease the waistband of your soaked panties before tugging them down completely.
“fuck,” you moan against matt’s lips as he dips a finger through your folds, and then pumping it in and out of you, adding a second finger almost immediately. the stretch burns, but it’s quickly turns into a pleasurable sensation.
chris pulls away from your neck and swiftly pulls your shirt over your head as matt continues pumping his fingers through you, chris’s hands travel to your boobs, thumbs beginning to circle quickly over your nipples, a smile plasters over his face as he feels them harden beneath his touch.
“such a good fuckin’ girl for us…already got you squirming and we barely even started.” matt chuckles darkly, pulling his fingers, that are now completely slick, out of you.
you whine at the loss of contact. chris pulls back from you too, but not for long—he backs you up against your bed until your knees buckle, you’re laying on your back, ankles dangling from the bed.
you watch as matt and chris both undo their belts, freeing both of their cocks, your mouth nearly begins watering at the sight. “gonna take us both, baby?” chris asks, already reaching for your legs, lifting them over his shoulders with ease.
“please—need both of you…” you whine out, matt climbs on the bed, kneeling beside your head and strokes himself a few times before tapping your chin, signaling for you to open your mouth. you don’t hesitate—not one bit, your lips part and his cock slides into your mouth. matt throws his head back as you begin sucking and licking at his length.
“mmmm, fuck…you’re so good at that love…” matt’s voice is slightly whiney, a tone you weren’t expecting from him. chris suddenly eases his cock inside of you, the both of you moan at the feeling.
he begins thrusting in and out of your pussy, beads of sweat already beginning to form on his forehead. “shit—your pussy feels so fucking good around me…” chris’s voice is barely even audible, he’s so lost in the feeling of you clenching around his cock, he lets out an almost pornographic groan.
matt pulls out of your mouth as he releases onto your tits, groaning your name as he does so. “look at what you do to me, darling…this is alllll for you,” he catches his breath, gesturing to the mess he made on top of you. the sight of that alone was enough to bring you closer to your own orgasm.
“m’gonna—i’m gonna cum!” you squeal out, chris begins moving his hips faster, and you feel the coil in your stomach burst—your release triggers chris’s, he cums inside of you with one last moan, you feel his release fill up your insides.
“oh fuck,” chris pants, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
all three of you take a moment to catch your breath. matt suddenly begins moving again, positioning himself against the headboard of your bed. you see him from the corner of your eye, and you smile to yourself before taking that as a sign to sit up, you crawl toward him and straddle him, your legs on either side of his legs.
before you can sink down fully onto his length, your index finger reaches up, lifting his chin lightly. “it’s my turn now,” you whisper, “m’gonna make you both even more obsessed with me.” it sounds like a promise—but that’s because it is. matt raises his eyebrows in amusement.
before either of them can make a snarky remark of any sort, you quickly sink down onto matt’s cock, your hips beginning to move at a desperate pace as you ride him. matt’s breath hitches as he looks up at you with submissive eyes, his persona suddenly switching.
you look back and reach for chris, who’s already making his way to you. he reaches down and kisses you—hard. his tongue shoots into your mouth with zero hesitation, trying to indulge in every inch of you. you reach down, stroking chris’s cock as you continue to ride matt mercilessly, the only sounds in the room are the lewd noises of skin slapping together, and the mix of all three of your guys’s moans.
“o—oh my god—yeah—just like that baby—” matt moans out, it sounds pathetic, but if anything, it arouses you even more.
chris pulls back from the kiss, his mouth forming a wide “o” shape as his eyes close, your hand works faster, you can tell the both of them are close, including you.
matt suddenly cums inside of you, moaning at how intense his release is. you gasp at the feeling, your own orgasm taking over you as you cum all over matt’s cock. you don’t bother getting up, he’s still completely buried within you. you lean over, popping chris’s tip into your mouth briefly, he cums in your mouth shortly after, and you swallow and lick every drop, not wasting one bit of his release. you slowly ease off of matt’s length, collapsing on the bed beside the both of them.
little did you know, their obsession with you had just grown much larger than before. and you loved every bit of it.
©𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐇𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎
💌: i’ll try to keep this short…but today marks my 2 year tumblr anniversary!!!!!!!!!!!!! i just wanted to say that i love and appreciate all of you so so much, more than you guys even know!!!!! i’ve made some really really good friends on here and met some really cool people through this app too, i love interacting with each and every single one of you, and i’m so endlessly grateful for all the support and love toward me and my writing, LONG STORY SHORT THANK YOU ALL FOR ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING!!!! ILY GUYS AND THIS COMMUNITY SO SO MUCH THE WORD LOVE ISNT ENOUGH!!!! 💝💝💝💝
「 stepbro!chris 」 "the picture"
ⓘ stepbro!chris x stepsis!reader, STEPCEST (DON'T LIKE? DON'T READ), brat taming, jealousy, degradation, humiliation, spanking, fingering, ruined orgasm :(, almost getting caught
based off this request 𖹭
dividers by @/chrisredfieldsfattie
"D'ya think I'm a bitch?" Chris gruffed, glaring at you with jealousy and rage as he slammed his hands down on the kitchen table where you were absorbed in your book. Startled by the sound and vibration, you jumped.
"Maybe," you teased him, the corner of your lip twitching into a playful smirk as you brought your gaze up from the words on the page to his very unamused and rather pissed off expression.
"Ain't messin' around here, kid. Ya must really take me for a bitch, because you've really outdone yourself this time."
"Chris, what the hell are you talking about?" You furrowed your brow in genuine confusion.
You'd obviously ticked him off, but what else is new, you thought to yourself. At least he looked sexy when he was mad, his flared nostrils, his tensed jaw, and the veins in his hands more prominent than usual. You bit down on your lip, your gaze dancing over him.
"This is what I'm talkin' about," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and setting it down in front of you. It was a rather suggestive photo of yourself that you'd taken a couple weeks prior.
"How the hell did you get that picture?" You snarked back, doing your best to keep your voice lowered as to not disturb your parents one room over.
"You sent it to Kyle. Whore." He didn't take his intense blue eyes off you for one second.
Kyle was one of Chris' buddies. One he hung out with regularly. You knew he wouldn't be happy when he found out that you occasionally sext him and send him revealing pictures.
A devious grin curled on your lips despite your attempts to hold it back. "So?" You cocked an eyebrow. "We're not official. I can do whatever I want."
"Not with my friends. Y'know how I feel about that shit."
"It's not like I signed a contract or anything," you shrugged. "I can send whatever I want to whoever I want."
His jaw twitched in irritation. "The fuck you can," he replied in a low raspy voice. "You're so used to gettin' your way, aren't ya? Ya little brat."
You batted your eyelashes, feigning an innocent little smile before you turned your attention back to the page you were reading.
Chris snatched your book right out of your hands, slamming it shut and leaning down so that his face was only inches from yours. "Did you fuck him?" He searched your expression for signs that you may be lying before you even answered his question.
You stared back blankly, crossing your arms over your chest, the silence hanging in the air between the two of you as you let him sweat a little.
"No," you finally answered, breaking the tension.
His eyes dropped to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own, his jeans growing tighter. He hated that the thought of you helping yourself to one of his friends turned him on a little.
"Do you want to?" He interrogated, immediately regretting the question as soon as it slipped out of his mouth.
You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, your expression softening. "Maybe a little bit," you admitted. It wasn't your fault Chris wouldn't commit to you and had hot friends.
"Oh, you little slut," he growled through clenched teeth as he wrapped his fingers around your throat, pulling you to your feet. "Up. Now."
You rolled your eyes, rising to your feet, obeying him but still giving him that same obnoxious attitude.
"Show me your texts with him. Now."
You took your time, picking your phone up off the table, unlocking it, and pretending to scroll through your messages, your thumb nail tapping against the screen as you stalled. "I mean, I don't know if you really wanna see..."
"Quit wastin' my time and show me your texts with him, dammit," Chris snarled, ripping your phone from your fingers. He narrowed his gaze, tensing his jaw even more when he saw what his contact in your phone was. His name with an eggplant and a tongue emoji.
Your text thread with him was at the very top. You'd messaged him today.
Chris braced himself as he scrolled up, a look of contempt on his face as he skimmed through the texts. They were incredibly flirty to say the least, practically throwing yourself at him. You'd sent him other pictures of yourself as well. Nothing too revealing, but revealing enough.
He stopped when he came across a rather incriminating text from Kyle that read: "I miss your mouth."
"Why the hell would he say that, huh?" Chris wondered aloud, flipping your phone around to show you what he was talking about.
You shrugged, playing dumb and avoiding eye contact.
"Oh, hell no," Chris responded, backing you up against the edge of the kitchen table. "Tell me right now."
"Well, you asked if I fucked him. Not if I sucked him off," you answered smugly.
Chris let out a disappointed sigh that the whole house could hear, shooting daggers at you with his eyes. "You've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he snapped at you, raising his voice a bit.
"Hey, quit bickering in there! We're trying to enjoy our show!" Your dad called out over his shoulder from where he was on the couch.
"Chris, honey, watch your mouth and be nice to your stepsister," his mom added.
Chris glanced back down at your phone, continuing to scroll up through the messages, his heart pounding in his chest as adrenaline raced through his veins. "You're such a little slut," he mumbled under his breath as he read the things you'd sent to his friend, telling him how hot he was, how bad you wanted him to fill you up, and even telling him when you were touching yourself.
He practically threw your phone at you, making a disgusted face when he'd come across a nude of his own friend. "Jesus!" Chris yelled in a whisper, not wanting to call more attention to the situation. "He sent you a picture of his dick?"
You giggled and shrugged. "I tried to tell you that you probably didn't wanna see our texts..."
"That's it," he rasped under his breath. "Turn around. Bend over. Now."
You listened, spinning around, leaning over the kitchen table, and glancing back at Chris over your shoulder with your big doe eyes. "I didn't do anything wrong," you protested.
You could feel Chris slowly lifting the hem of your skirt as he scoffed. "All you do is the wrong shit."
You peeked back into the living room where the backs of your parents' heads were turned to you, completely entranced by whatever was playing across the screen, unaware that you and Chris were still bickering, as they'd say.
Chris' palm rubbed slow circles over your exposed bottom before he gave you a swift slap. Your eyes widened in shock. He did it again, drawing his arm back and watching the flesh ripple under the weight of his smack.
Your parents didn't budge, too caught up in their show, their backs to you still.
"Filthy little whore," Chris whispered, his middle finger tracing your plump pussy through your panties that were already soaked with your arousal. Your jaw dropped, and you reached up to cover your mouth as Chris pushed past the material, breaching your entrance.
He didn't waste any time, roughly pistoning his finger in and out of your eager hole as you clawed at the wood beneath you with your free hand while you kept the other cupped over your mouth, faint moans and whimpers spilling out nonetheless.
"Shhh. Don't you dare get us caught," Chris hushed you, adding a second finger, his hard cock throbbing against your bare ass through his jeans. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your knees weakening beneath you.
Chris relentlessly continued, his eyes occasionally flicking up to make sure his mom and your dad weren't catching onto to what was going on behind them, the thrill of being caught adding an extra layer to the encounter.
"Gonna ruin this pussy so good that Kyle's not even gonna want it," Chris commented in a low, rough voice that only you could hear.
Your vision started to blur, your muffled sounds vibrating against your palm. You were so close, your pussy fluttering around Chris' fingers as he drove them into you faster. Harder. You felt the knot in your stomach pulling tighter, your impending orgasm brewing deep in your core.
"I think that's enough of that," Chris chuckled. Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers from your heat, and you clamped your hand down over your mouth even tighter to conceal your defeated yelp.
You whipped your head around, tears pricking the corners of your eyes at the loss of sensation. You stared back at him, your expression steeped in desperation. "Chris. Please," you begged in a quiet voice.
He stared down at you with a contemptuous smile and a dark look in his eye. "Y'think ya get to cum after all that? Nah, we're gonna go upstairs, and you're gonna show me exactly how you sucked off my friend, hmm?"
WEAKNESS ── CHRIS STURNIOLO
⤷ masterlist ⟶ previous scene ⤷ cw . . . emotional distress, crying, drunk people & mentions of alcohol . . .
꒰ comment on this post to join series taglist ꒱
Nick's right hook connected cleanly with Chris's jaw. His head snapped to the side, the impact rattling his teeth as the metallic taste of blood bloomed across his tongue. He barely reacted, making Nick lower his gloves, his usual competitive grin fading into a frown.
"That was a pretty easy one to dodge, Chris. Where the hell's your head at today?"
Chris wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his glove before resetting his stance. “That was one time. Don’t get too cocky now,” Chris answered by lunging forward with a sharp jab. Nick slipped it effortlessly. “Fucker.”
"Seriously, Chris." Nick took two steps back, shaking his head. "You've missed four combinations. Which goes back to my question, where's your head at? It ain't fun sparring someone who's clocked out."
Chris looked away for the briefest moment while adjusting the tape beneath his glove, before letting the lie slip easily. "I'm thinking about work."
"Bullshit." Nick tilted his head, studying him. "This wouldn't happen to be about a certain recently engaged brunette Matt was telling me about, would it?"
Those words were enough to land a hit on Nick for the first time that morning. He threw his head back and laughed. “Ah, so it is.”
Chris scoffed, though it lacked conviction. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"So what happened?"
Chris adjusted his mouthguard, aware that Nick likely already figured out what had happened. His other brother had probably been running his mouth about the art gala, making things more complicated. Unfortunately, both of his brothers were also aware of Chris's feelings for her because of past incidents. "I just said I don’t know what you’re talking about," he replied, trying to deflect.
“If it makes you feel better, I think you’re more of a catch than Braxton Miller.”
That, in fact, did not make him feel better. He couldn’t help but ask.
“You don’t see anything weird about this engagement?”
Nick shrugged indifferently. “No? Everyone our age is doing the same. I mean, they probably loved each other and decided they wanted to settle down.” Chris’s blood ran cold, and he punched Nick again, but the jerk was laughing before Chris’s fist even landed. The fucker was messing with him. “If you want to convince me this isn't about her, at least don’t break into a violent rage every time you feel triggered.”
“You think you know everything.” His brother was too full of bullshit.
“And you think you're going to get over Jenn by locking yourself in your penthouse, drinking half a bottle of whiskey every night, and working from home while barely sober.”
Chris froze, genuinely caught off guard. How did Nick know he had been living like a hermit? But he quickly recovered, hardening his expression again. “None of your business.”
“You're not exactly hiding it, Chris.”
Irritably, Chris clenched his fists. “So what exactly am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know; however, beating yourself into the ground isn't going to make her unengaged, and drowning yourself in crappy alcohol isn't going to help you forget her.”
At the end of the day, Chris, I make love to him every night. Not you.
The sudden memory of her cruel words ignited a visceral rage within him, prompting him to lunge at his poor brother's face once more. Chris missed. Again.
“I don't want to forget her.”
The moment the words slipped out, he regretted them. But Nick's gaze wasn’t judgmental—if anything, it was filled with concern. Fucking hell. What he hated more than smug Nick was sentimental Nick.
“I know,” Nick said, his expression softening. “That's exactly why I'm worried.”
The conversation died there. By the time Chris left the gym, the weight in his chest hadn't eased. If anything, it had settled deeper. The stack of files waiting for him was almost embarrassing. He'd postponed enough board meetings over the past few weeks, and this week, there were no more excuses.
Whatever was happening in his personal life stayed outside these walls. It always had. He hadn't built a billion-dollar company before turning thirty-five by letting emotions interfere with business after all. Work was the one thing he had always been able to control.
A sharp knock sounded against the open office door.
"Come in," Chris said as his Head of Operations stepped inside, carrying a tablet and a folder. "What is it?"
"Sir..." He cleared his throat. "I think we should discuss something before the afternoon management meeting. There was... a question raised by the Management Department this morning. They're asking why COS Security declined the contract proposal from Miller Landscapes."
Bitterness settled in his chest at the reminder of Braxton, but he didn’t show it. Chris's expression remained unreadable. "So? I refused the contract."
"But they're asking why."
Chris reached for another file as though the conversation bored him. "It wasn't a good fit."
"Respectfully..." He slid the folder onto Chris's desk. "That's difficult to explain. Because we already provide executive protection services to his father, Miller Holdings, for three years. As well as three subsidiary companies and several members of the Miller family. So the board is confused."
That was indeed true. However, three years ago, when Braxton's father reached out, that family meant nothing to him. In fact, Chris is not involved in the service provision aspect of the business, as long as the company operates ethically. It may seem petty, but Chris had personally refused to provide service to Braxton's personally owned business.
"My answer hasn't changed. If Brax has questions, he can call me personally."
Chris did all the reasearch we was able to on Brax. He found a lot. Articles about graduating as his high school's valedictorian. Features covering his years at Stanford and the research he'd published while he was there. Photographs from business conferences. A handful of old pictures with a woman listed only as an ex-girlfriend from several years back. Even videos of a charity he personally organized a campaign to repair neglected roads and potholes throughout New York City.
The deeper Chris looked, the more frustrating it became. There was nothing shady about him, like he wanted. Braxton Miller appeared to be exactly what everyone claimed he was. Successful. Respectable. Annoyingly decent.
He'd been hoping to find something that would explain why Jenn shouldn't marry him. Instead, all he'd found was proof that Braxton Miller was, on paper, exactly the kind of man Richard would want for his daughter.
By the time evening rolled around, Chris found himself behind the wheel with no real destination in mind. It was a Friday night. He took a series of familiar turns until the glowing sign of a bar came into view. Her bar. Or at least, the one she'd always liked.
It wasn't—was—as if he expected her to be there. He parked anyway. Inside, Chris claimed a corner booth tucked away from the crowd, where he could watch the room without being noticed.
When the bartender came over, he ordered a club soda with lime. He'd promised himself he wouldn't touch alcohol tonight. Just in case a certain someone needed a ride home.
She's not coming, he told himself.
He knew there was something fundamentally wrong about sitting in a bar hoping to catch a glimpse of another man's fiancée. He understood exactly how pathetic it looked. Yet he couldn't make himself think of her as belonging to anyone else.
Plus, he was the one who could feel when she was in the room. That’s why his eyes lifted from his phone, and he recognized her from behind. Even with her hair cut short now, she looked like a damn disco ball—impossible to ignore, just like her.
Then his attention shifted to the woman who was tugging her inside by the hand. His sister-in-law? What the hell? Does Matt know his wife is here? Elena was definitely more trouble than Jenn’s rule-following personality. He sighed. Either way, he was now responsible for whatever happened to his sister-in-law in the absence of his brother.
Matt was a protective bastard over his little wife. Chris would bet everything Elena had to stop him from coming tonight.
The girls threw back the shots in perfect sync. Chris found himself smiling like an idiot before he even realized he was doing it. God, he was a loser.
He watched Jenn throw her head back and relax a bit. This was the first time he had seen her carefree since he came back. Two weeks ago, he had also seen her at the same bar, but she only had a few drinks before leaving. He noticed that she never brought Braxton with her. He knew it wasn't because Braxton didn't like the bars. According to his Instagram, he was quite the party guy.
She was incredibly beautiful. His heart was filled with her laughter, her smile, and her sweet voice. The only feeling stronger than his love for her was his longing. Back then, even though they weren’t dating, she was still a part of his life. Now, she was starting a new chapter. With someone who wasn’t him. He tried not to think about it as much as he could, but Brax was able to kiss her, hold her, fuck her, and one day he’ll put fucking babies inside and—
"Chris?!"
His thoughts were shattered. He looked up. His sister-in-law stood in front of his booth with both hands planted on her hips, staring at him as though she'd just caught him committing a felony.
"What are you doing here?"
Chris blinked once. "Hello there, sister. I’m having a drink."
She looked down at the untouched club soda. "That is not a drink?"
"It technically is."
She narrowed her eyes, sighing like she was already thinking of all the ways to kill his brother. "Did Matt send you to spy on me?" Chris barked out a dry laugh but didn't deny it. It was easier to throw Matt under the bus than explain why he was drinking club soda at a bar alone.
"He isn’t wrong for thinking you require surveillance."
She started muttering curses under her breath about how Matt's getting the silent treatment before she turned, feeling a tap on her shoulder. "Oh!" She turned. "Jenn! Look who I found!"
Jenn appeared beside her a second later.
Her cheeks were lightly flushed from the alcohol and dancing, strands of her short dark hair clinging slightly around her face. Until she saw him, her smile vanished. It annoyed him way too much. He knew exactly what she'd remembered, because he remembered it too.
The last words he'd said before walking away from her two weeks ago.
“Talk about fucking another man to me again, I'll ruin us both right here, and you’ll forget you even have a fiancée”
He'd been furious and jealous when he said it. He couldn't believe the audacity to say it—even the reminder of her words for the second time today made him want to punch Nick again.
Jenn looked away first, not even acknowledging him and turning to head back towards the bar. He had the urge to follow her, but Elena beat her to it, telling him rough bye and grunting away. They were both drunk.
By the time Chris glanced at his watch again, it was almost midnight. After another glance around the bar, he couldn't spot either of them.
They'd probably already left. He finished the last sip of his soda and made his way outside.
Just a few feet from the entrance, he spotted them.
Jenn and Elena stood near the curb beneath the glow of a streetlamp. Both were noticeably tipsy. Elena was animatedly waving her phone around while Jenn leaned lightly against a railing, balancing herself. Chris walked over before either of them noticed.
"You two alright?"
Jenn looked up first, and she shifted awkwardly where she stood, suddenly finding the pavement incredibly interesting. Elena held up her phone triumphantly. "I'm calling Matty!"
Chris nodded before looking back at Jenn. "How are you getting home?"
Elena answered for her. "We'll take her. Matty won't mind."
Chris shot Elena an unimpressed look, then turned to Jenn, who was still staring at the floor. He glanced back at Elena.
"I'll drive you both home."
Jenn immediately responded with a firm, "No." At the same time, Elena beamed and exclaimed, "Yes! Thank god." Chris pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course she’s going to make this difficult.
Without another word, he turned and started toward the parking garage. Elena happily followed as if the matter had already been settled. They'd barely taken a few steps before he noticed only one set of heels clicking behind him. He turned. Jenn still stood behind, arms folded tightly across herself, staring down at the sidewalk.
"Come on, Bella." His voice was gentle.
"I'll just get an Uber."
The idea itself appalled him. "No, you're drunk. You've had enough drinks, and I'm not letting you get into a stranger's car."
“No, it’s okay really. I’ve taken Ubers many times when I’m drunk,” Jenn sighed, already pulling her phone from her purse. “It’s no big deal—”
“Get in the car, Jenn.”
She climbed into the car this time.
His sister-in-law mentioned that she wanted to sit in the back seat to stretch her legs, leaving Jenn in the front.
They rode in silence. It was his first time being truly alone with Jenn since the night of her birthday, which seemed like a lifetime ago. The only sound was the occasional soft snoring from Elena and the lingering scent of Jenn's perfume. It was an exquisite hell of his own making.
Chris may or may not have driven to Matt's place first to lengthen his time with her. It was a selfish thing to do, but he never claimed to be a good man.
Jenn looked out the window the whole ride and pressed against the door as far as she could. As if he were a virus or something.
“Are you cold?”
She turned to him, surprised that he spoke, and shook her head. However, Chris turned on the seat heater anyway. Her outfit was very impractical for the cold weather outside. But that was Jenn. Fashion over function.
Fifteen minutes later, Chris slowed the car as he approached the wrought-iron gates of Matt and Elena's home. It was a vast property that Matt had built brick by brick on his own, driven by his desire to create his wife's dream home in her dream city.
As they rolled into the driveway, he saw Matt stepping out of the front door, looking tense. He looked halfway to his own car before spotting Chris's SUV.
Chris rolled down the driver's window.
"Come get your wife out of my car."
Matt's shoulders visibly relaxed as relief washed over his face, and he rushed toward the vehicle. Inside, Elena was curled up against the seat, completely asleep, one heel half hanging off her foot and her head tipped awkwardly against the window.
Matt opened the rear door carefully. "Baby..." Elena mumbled something incoherent before immediately reaching for him without opening her eyes. "There she is," Matt murmured with a smile. She wrapped her arms lazily around his neck, and he picked her up effortlessly.
Chris looked away, giving them some privacy. Matt then glanced toward the front passenger seat, where Jenn was sitting quietly, facing the window. He looked back at Chris, a knowing smirk appearing on his face. With Elena cradled in his arms, her thanked Chris and carried her inside.
Chris shifted the SUV into drive and eased back down the street.
“Why didn't Braxton come with you tonight?”
The question came so suddenly that Jenn turned to him in surprise. “He's busy.” She hesitated before answering. "He doesn't really go out much.” That didn’t seem true.
“I don't think that's the most accurate description of him.”
“So, you've been looking him up?”
Well, she caught him. He settled for a safe answer. “No. I've just... seen him around.”
Jenn studied him for another second before deciding not to press it. But the topic she settled on was somehow worse. “I know you received an invitation to the small engagement dinner. My mother is hosting it, and she invited you.”She glanced out the windshield. “You don't have to come.”
His jaw flexed. “And this is relevant right now because?”
Jenn sighed, resting her head against the window. She didn’t want to be in this car, and it was clear. But then why was she so fidgety and nervous? “I just wanted you to know I wasn't the one who invited you.” She paused. “I know you probably won't want to come.”
Chris stared straight ahead, his voice flat. “You're right.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw her slightly flinch a bit. Like she didn’t expect him to actually agree, but then she slowly nodded once. “That's okay. You won't be at the actual engagement party either. So... you don't have to worry about any of it.”
Chris's head turned toward her for only a fraction of a second. He was angry, but underneath it all it was just hurt. “What exactly do you think I'm worried about?”
“I just…” She searched for the right words. “It'd probably be uncomfortable. For you and me.”
He didn’t reply, but they both knew he was seething on the inside. There was a fucking hole the size of Russia in his chest.
“Chris, I'm trying to make this easier.”
Just because that was true didn’t mean he had to accept it.
“There isn't an easier version of watching the woman you love marry someone else.”
He tapped the steering wheel anxiously. Although he tried to hate her, dislike her, or just find some reason to move on, he just couldn’t. He’ll always love her more than anything else. Even when she said things like this.
“Well, you’ll have to. There’s no way you can miss the actual wedding.”
His heart cracked as he turned to her at the red light, disbelief washing over him, and he let out a bitter laugh. “Are you serious right now?”
“I mean, yeah. You have like six months to get over us, and then it will be fine.”
Another crack. Get over us? How could she still not understand that there was no getting over her or them in his heart? She would always be there, whether he liked it or not. Nor was he ready or capable of moving on.
He had thought about it for so long. How would it be if he married another woman who wasn’t his Jenn? It wouldn’t feel right, obviously. But it also wouldn’t be fair to the other woman if he had a wandering eye for Jenn. It seems easier never to love again.
He kept his eyes on the dark road. “I’m sorry, Bella. I can’t come to that.”
Her head turned, confusion sparking in the eyes he’d loved for seven years. “Why not?”
Because there’s a very likely chance I’ll say I object. “You know why, Jenn,” he replied through gritted teeth.
“Well, yes—” she stumbled. "But you're one of my father's biggest partners. Our families have known each other for years. Half of New York's business circle will be there, and people will probably be flying in from overseas. It would look wrong if you weren't there."
A bitter laugh escaped him. "So that's why. You want me there for appearances. That's more important than how I actually feel and more important than asking why this wedding feels rushed in the first place."
He was already angry, but seeing a glimpse of that ugly silver ring on her finger made him want to drive off the nearest cliff. He'd never do that with Jenn in the car, though. Of course.
"You're twisting what I'm saying." She sat up straighter. Her voice was still slightly drunk but not fully out. "I don't want people talking. And I know you couldn’t care less about what people think, but I have to."
"Please. I want you there." His heart lurched. She wasn't talking about public appearances anymore. "I know everything between us is..." She searched for the word before giving up. "...whatever this is. But you've been part of my life for so long, and I don't want you missing from something that important." Three seconds passed before she asked again. "So please. Come."
Every ounce of anger had disappeared from his voice because of her achingly pleading voice.
"I'm sorry, Bella." He smiled faintly, though it looked painful. "You know I'd be almost anything you asked me to be. But I can't be the man who watches you marry someone else. I can't stand there and smile while another man becomes your husband. I can't support it."
A long pause followed before he said, sincerely but unwillingly.
"And if this really is the life you want, then the last thing I'd ever want is for you to spend your wedding day is looking at my face." His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. "You deserve to walk down that aisle surrounded by people who are actually happy for you."
Neither of them looked at each other.
A quiet, broken inhale followed by a muffled sob suddenly filled the space. His head turned instinctively. Jenn had covered her mouth with one hand as she tried to keep the sound in. The sight shattered him. She squeezed her eyes shut. She was too vulnerable right now. Especially being slightly drunk as well.
"I'm sorry, Bella."
Jenn quickly wiped beneath her eyes, shaking her head as if trying to dismiss both the tears and his apology. "No, you're—you're right. I wouldn't want to watch you marry someone else either."
The confession landed so devastatingly honest. Drunk truths are sober thoughts, they say. And that sounded very much like a drunk confession she’d deny in the morning.
“But I want you to move on chris. I really do. I really like Braxton. He’s good to me. No matter what you may think otherwise.” Those doe eyes stared into his cheek. “I want you to find the love of your life and marry them too. Be happy.
He wanted to scream, You are the love of my life. Instead, he gave a single nod.
Jenn smiled sadly, mistaking his silence for acceptance. "You deserve someone who can give you everything. You'll look back at all of this and realize we were just meant to teach each other something. We..." She searched for the words. "We can never be what we need each other to be."
His expression hardened almost imperceptibly. "You don't know that, Jenn."
"I do." She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "You've always been too stubborn, and I've always had too much pride. We'd spend our whole lives fighting. Gosh, we would've destroyed each other."
He wanted to shit himself, then listen to her go on about why they were bound to crash and burn. “If you don’t have anything true to say, don’t say it, please.”
"It is true."
Chris let out a hollow laugh that held no amusement. "No, it isn’t. You don't even believe that yourself."
"You don't know anything about me anymore, Chris. "
He wanted nothing more than to stop the car, pull her towards him, and kiss her until she would quiet down and melt against him. He was confident she'd kiss him back. He could sense it in the subtle, suggestive warmth beneath her anger.
"You've spent the last ten minutes explaining why we'd never work instead of telling me why he does." Chris shoved all dirty thoughts behind him.
"I don't owe you that!" The fire was back in her eyes. No tears. That was good. Her tears unsettled him. She suddenly amused herself again. “See? This is exactly why we never would've worked. We were calm one moment, yelling the next."
The car slowed to a stop in front of her apartment building. Before Chris had even shifted into park, Jenn yanked at the door handle. "Jenn—"
She slammed the door so hard that the entire SUV shook.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He always seemed to end up on bad terms whenever he saw this girl. He didn’t even have time to climb out and run after her—she was already gone.
He didn’t know it then, but the next time he would see her, the whole world would know she was betrothed to someone else.
ceyana’s note: next scene is going to be tense! i love you, mwah <3
© 𝐂𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎
guitarist!matt x singer!reader x drummer!chris
➟ 💿 content warning: smut, sexual tension, jealousy, finger sucking, dry humping, f!masturbation, nipple play, getting caught, vouyerism/exhibitionism, dirty talk, praise/degradation, humiliation, orgasm control
➟ 💿 summary: you, matt, and chris play your newest song live, driving you and matt into a situation you can't take back
dividers by me !
song I listened to while writing this chapter:
Bizarre Love Triangle
chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |
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"This song is so lame," Chris had groaned the first time he heard the song Matt had written while the three of you were staying in Georgia.
It was the same song that made you fall harder for Matt the first time he'd played it for you on the tourbus. It was almost like Chris subconsciously knew that and was the reason he'd already decided he'd hated it.
And in that moment, the air felt heavy. The tourbus felt suffocatingly smaller than usual, not just because all three of you were crammed into the space, but like there wasn't enough metaphorical room for you, Matt's song, and Chris' ego.
Maybe they were just bickering because they were brothers. Or because the three of you had been living on top of each other for over a month at this point. Or maybe it was because of the unspoken rivalry between the two of them, both of them competing for your attention.
You and Matt had exchanged an irritated glance that day, each rolling your eyes at his hard-to-please brother.
"The drum part isn't even exciting to play," Chris had added, crossing his arms defiantly as he leaned up against the wall like a teenager who wasn't getting his way.
"Suck it up, Chris. Quit bein' a brat. Not everything's about you," Matt had retorted, not giving him any more room to argue. "We're gonna start practicing it before our shows and once we all get it down, I wanna start playing it as our closing song."
Well, tonight was that night, the night you were going to play it on stage for the first time.
Just when the crowd thought the set was over, the lights in the venue went dim except for the bright spotlight on the three of you as Matt started it off with the guitar part. You watched his long fingers as they glided freely across the frets, his silver rings catching and glimmering in the light. His intense gaze met yours as you sang the main vocals for the first line and he, the backup vocals.
Chris scornfully drummed behind the two of you, feeling like a third wheel the way you and Matt were "eye-fucking each other," as he would say, in front of him. All he could think about was that kiss he shared with you on the ferris wheel, hoping that would have tipped your feelings in favor of him over Matt.
However, he knew deep down that you didn't belong to either one of them. You were just like him, afraid of the labels, afraid of being tied down. But that made you two perfect for each other, right?
You peeked over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of Chris' clenched jaw and his envious stare. There was a part of you that selfishly reveled in seeing him jealous. Like maybe he'd try harder to win you over if he had a reason to.
The crowd was quiet, listening to the rhythm, hearing the song for the very first time. You tightened your grip on the microphone, chills running down your spine and goosebumps playing across your skin as you and Matt sang the chorus in unison "...give up the ghost, free up the soul just for another night as a note in your symphony, the way you play every inch of me, tempo is slow, waves come and go just like the rising tide as I swim through your sea of skin, got every inch of you trembling..."
The way Matt's stare bore through you combined with the sexy lyrics he'd written made your stomach flutter, arousal blooming in your core. Your gaze continued to flicker from his blue eyes to his full lips to his hands as he handled his guitar, and you couldn't hide it. You were picturing those same hands on you again.
Chris could tell what you were thinking, too. He tried to hold back his look of contempt, just barely concealing it, trying to finish the song without storming off the stage.
Somehow, the three of you managed to get through the three minutes and forty-four seconds of agony, Matt without stuttering from the nervousness of singing his own lyrics live for the first time, you without cumming untouched from Matt staring into your soul, and Chris without chucking his drumsticks at the both of you.
Once the three of you were back at the tourbus after organizing all your gear, Chris was the first to break away from the group. "I need a drink," he mumbled under his breath before disappearing off to god knows where.
He didn't want to leave you alone with Matt, but he also couldn't bare one more second of witnessing the sexual tension burgeoning between the two of you.
Matt raised an eyebrow, already retrieving the joint he had tucked behind his ear as the two of you stood outside under the stars. "You wanna smoke?"
"I'd love to," you replied, leaning up against the side of the tourbus, the sound of the lighter flicking to life sending a thrill racing through you. "You were amazing tonight."
You studied his hands, as he held the flame up to the joint paper, swallowing the tip of it in a fiery glow and illuminating his captivating features in the darkness. A smirk curved on Matt's expression as he took the first drag, heat rushing to his cheeks, clearly feeling a bit flustered by your compliment.
"Thank you. So were you," he said, the smoke curling around his words. He passed you the joint, his fingers brushing against yours, igniting another spark. Your hand trembled as you accepted it, trying to pretend you weren't falling harder for him with every passing moment.
"Can I ask you what the inspiration was?" You wondered aloud. "Like did you write it from experience or..." your voice trailed off as you took a hit of the joint, the cherry crackling against the silence.
Matt chuckled. "What exactly are you askin'?"
You hesitated for a second. What were you asking? You had to think about it, wondering if you actually wanted an answer to satisfy your curiosity even if it would potentially hurt your feelings. "I mean, did you write it about another girl?" You finally spoke up, wrinkling your nose as you flicked the ashes off the end of the joint.
There was a beat of silence. Then Matt took a step closer to you, reducing the space between you. "Y'think I'd write a song about having sex with another girl and then make you sing it?" He asked almost as if he were offended. "I don't know what kind of guy you think I am, but I'm not that kind."
You felt a wave of relief hit you, a subtle smirk tugging on the corner of your lip. "Good." You handed the joint over, and Matt took it from you, taking a long, slow drag.
"You really seem to like the song. What do you like about it?" Matt asked, a tantalizing edge to his voice.
"What are you really asking me?" You shot back, turning the question back around on him, raising an eyebrow and giving him a cheeky smile.
"I mean, what are you picturing when we sing it together?" He took the joint between his lips again, studying your facial expression now that his vision had adjusted to the low lighting.
Suddenly, a rush of confidence awoke in you. "What if I show you?" You asked, taking his free hand and interlacing your fingers with his.
Before he could answer, you stood on your tippy toes, bridging the gap between you and him. An electric feeling flowed through you as soon as your lips met. He kissed you back. It was passionate yet restrained, his tongue darting out from behind his lips, just barely grazing yours.
You could feel yourself melt into him, all your inhibitions disappearing. Matt gently bit down on your bottom lip, causing you to moan into his mouth.
The kiss went on for so long that you'd lost track of time, forgetting about the joint completely until the cherry had fizzled out.
"We should go inside," you suggested, your whole body buzzing with anticipation and excitement. He nodded, and the two of you wandered into the tourbus, both of your minds reeling with what was about to happen next.
Still riding your wave of confidence or perhaps blind arrogance, you pushed Matt backwards until he collapsed down onto the bench, gazing up at you with both a look of shock and lust. You straddled him, throwing a leg on either side of him as you lowered yourself onto his lap.
You took his hand again, lifting it to your mouth. You watched his blue eyes glaze over with pure desire, his lips parting to let out a soft exhale as you tucked his pointer finger behind your warm, soft, plump lips, the taste of burnt marijuana lingering on your tastebuds. You just gently suckled on the tip at first, your eyes locked onto his.
You could feel him beneath you, his cock twitching to life as you took more of him, slinking your lips down to his knuckle. You instinctively rolled your hips forward against his, the seam of your jean shorts rubbing against your aching clit. Matt let out a breathy sigh, his eyelids growing heavier as you swirled your tongue around his finger while slowly grinding against him.
"Good girl," he quietly rasped, sending a shiver down your spine. You moaned, your lips vibrating around his finger, still holding eye contact.
He looked as dazed as you felt, from pleasure, from the joint you'd smoked earlier, from the sexual tension between the two of you finally snapping and caving in on itself.
"Go on. Don't stop," he whispered.
You took him deeper until you could taste the cool metal of his ring, rocking your hips back and forth a little faster now, a little more desperately, the friction of your body against his creating a mouthwatering sensation. With his free hand, he gripped your thigh through your fishnets, encouraging you to keep riding him.
Suddenly, because every private moment you'd had since being on the road was constantly being interrupted, Chris burst through the tourbus door.
You scrambled to look like you were doing anything else than what you were actually doing, immediately pulling yourself off of Matt's lap and settling down on the bench beside him. Chris made immediate eye contact with you. Then with Matt.
"Jesus, Chris! Ever heard of knocking?" Matt exclaimed, grabbing the nearest throw pillow and covering his lap to hide the erection that had swelled in his jeans.
"Why the hell would I have to knock? I live here, too." Chris' words silenced the two of you instantly. He wasn't wrong. And he didn't know exactly what the two of you were just doing, but based on the way the two of you looked at him like a couple of deer in the headlights and how quickly the energy had shifted the second he walked in, he knew it was something precarious.
You could see the hurt in his blue eyes, and it made your stomach turn with guilt. "Forgot my phone," Chris stated plainly as he reached for it, your breath catching in your throat as you realized you were half sitting on it. It had been on the bench beside you two the entire time.
He pulled it out from underneath your thigh, giving you a wounded look that made your heart sink. The tension hung in the air between all three of you. Chris gave each one of you one more somber stare before he stormed off the tourbus, the door slamming shut behind him.
And in that moment, Matt understood. He wasn't the only one who had feelings for you.
You felt sick. So did Matt.
"I'm gonna shower and get ready for bed," you mumbled as you dragged your feet across the floor to the back of the tourbus. Matt sighed heavily. It had been so long since he'd had sex of any kind, and being blue balled in such an abrupt manner was disappointing to say the least, but neither one of you could continue after that.
Matt kept his gaze straight ahead, despite hearing the sound of you shimmying out of your clothes. His adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he heard the slow ziiiip of your zipper coming undone and the sound of the denim fabric of your shorts hitting the floor.
He couldn't help himself from imagining how you looked naked. It killed him to think he may never get to see you that way.
You were fleeting like water pooling his hands and no matter how hard he tried to hold onto you, you'd always inevitably slip through his fingers.
You each showered separately, brushed your teeth without so much as glancing over at each other. You didn't dare finish what you'd started, the moment completely shattered.
You two exchanged a dejected and deflated "g'night" before Matt made his way to his bunk, and you made your way back to bench with your blanket and a book, the lamp beside you giving off just enough light for you to make out the text on the page. Your eyelids started to grow heavy...
You jolted awake about an hour and a half later, the room still dimly lit by the soft glow of the lamp, your book still open to page 162 draped across your lap. Your blanket had fallen to the floor, and you didn't bother retrieving it.
You'd been dreaming. About Matt. Your subconscious mind had picked up where the two of you had left off, your brain unsatisfied by the lack of resolution.
You felt the wetness that had pooled between your thighs while you were fast asleep, and you reached into your waistband of your pajama shorts just to be sure. You were soaked.
You bit down on your lip to stifle a moan, your eyes fluttering shut. Your nipples stiffened, showing through the fabric of your tanktop. In your mind's eye, Matt was on top of you, whispering praises into your ear, and you were dragging your long fingernails down his back tattoo, your legs hooked around his waist as he thrust into you.
You let your fantasy overtake you, your free hand pushing up the fabric of your shirt to reveal your breasts. You gently pinched your sensitive bud on the left side of your chest, rolling it between your fingertips as you worked the fingers of your other hand in tight circles over your clit.
There was still a lingering sense of shame and guilt about Chris and the way he looked at you, but it was overridden by lust. You pinched your nipple tighter, a soft moan falling from your lips as you fervently rubbed your pussy, your slick coating your slippery fingers. You tossed your head back, pleasure etched into your expression. Your mouth parted around Matt's name.
You heard another party in the room, your fantasy being ripped out from under you at the sound of a man clearing his throat. No amount of scrambling could conceal what you were doing this time.
When your eyes shot open, Chris was drunk, standing across from you, his arms crossed over his chest and a snide smirk playing on his lips. "Chris!" You shouted in a whisper, not wanting to wake Matt as well. You jerked your hand back like you'd burnt yourself on a hot stove, pulling your tanktop back down over your breasts. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough. You really didn't hear me come in?"
"No," you replied, your face hot with embarrassment as you squeezed your legs shut, fixing your posture as if that was going to make a difference.
Chris stood above you, his eyes raking over your figure as you tried to hide yourself. "Keep goin'," he said with a hungry look in his eyes.
Your eyelashes fluttered in disbelief. "W-what?"
"You heard me. Keep touchin' yourself. Go on. You ain't gotta stop just because I'm here." His tongue slithered out from behind his lips, wetting them as he devoured you with his fixed stare.
You didn't budge for a few seconds. Were you still dreaming?
"Chris-" you started to say, but he cut you off.
"Take it off. All of it. Let me see." The tone of his voice was seductive and completely serious.
You didn't argue. You raised your hips off of the bench beneath you as you slowly slid your shorts and your underwear down your thighs. Chris watched the fabric pool at your ankles before you kicked it away.
"The shirt, too. Let me see those pretty tits."
You swallowed the dry lump in your throat as you reached for the hem of your tank top, pulling it off slowly and tossing it onto the floor with the rest of your clothes. Chris bent forward, picking your panties up off the ground. He pressed the damp material to his nose, taking a deep inhale.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, taking in and savoring your scent before stuffing them into his back pocket. The lewd act made your stomach turn. "Spread those legs for me."
You hesitantly parted your knees, your slick folds glistening in the lamp glow, the cool air ghosting over your wet center and making you shudder.
Chris let out a heavy sigh, his face softening as his gaze dropped to your pussy like it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He quickly regained his composure, trying to look unaffected, attempting to maintain control over the situation. "C'mon. Don't act like it's y'first time," Chris slurred. "Go on. Touch yourself just like ya were when I came in."
You nodded. You reached between your legs, your fingers settling on your throbbing clit that pulsed against your touch. You started to rub it in slow, steady circles, the humiliation still welling inside of you in the best way.
"You were thinkin' about my brother, huh?" Chris scoffed, crossing his arms again, looking somewhat amused. "Can't believe he didn't finish the job after I left. Such a fuckin' pussy."
His drunken words left you in shock. You opened your mouth to put him in his place. You almost snapped at him. You almost told him that the two of you stopped because they felt bad for him. Because the two of you weren't fucking sociopaths.
In that moment, you wished you and Matt had fucked just to spite his brother. Matt was sweet. Didn't want to cause any harm. And that was the difference between him and Chris. Chris didn't fucking care. He'd go to any length to get what he wanted.
You wished that realization would have stopped you. But it felt too good. Maybe you were just like Chris after all.
You continued to touch yourself, your other hand instinctively flying up to your breast again, tweaking your nipple between the tips of two fingers. "So pathetic. Look at you. Rubbin' yourself like the desperate little thing you are," Chris chuckled.
You slammed your eyes shut, hoping you'd feel less embarrassed if you could pretend he wasn't there watching, but he wasn't having it.
"Oh, no you don't. Look at me. Now."
Your eyes fluttered open again to see Chris staring directly back at you. His eyes were so blue. So full of desire. "Faster," he ordered you. You bit down on your lip, staring up at him as you worked your clit faster, rolling your fingers over your stiff bundle of nerves. "Atta girl. Bet you're not thinkin' about my brother anymore now, are ya?"
His words sent a current of arousal straight to your clit. Little did he know, you were still imagining both of them.
"Now fuck yourself with those pretty little fingers of yours," he demanded.
His words had you wrapped around his finger. It turned you on even more than the first time he'd used that phrase.
You obediently listened. You slid your ring and middle finger down your folds like they were under a trance and Chris was the spellcaster. You could feel how drenched you were. You pushed your fingers into your entrance, your eyes rolling around in your head as you stretched around them.
You couldn't stop yourself. No matter how mortified you were. It felt sooo good.
"Eyes on me," Chris reiterated.
You steadied your vision, fixing your gaze on him once more, starting to slowly move your fingers back and forth. You were already trembling, the knot in your stomach threatening to come unraveled. The vulgar and wet sounds of your pussy squelching around your fingers filled the tourbus.
Chris mischeviously smiled, watching your body react. He loved feeling like he was in control of you without ever even laying a hand on you.
You continued to piston your fingers into your heat, your other hand still cupping the swell of your breast as you teased your nipple between the pads of your thumb and index finger. Your eyes dropped to the subtle twitch in Chris' jeans.
He was hard. So hard.
And you hated that he had enough self control in this moment to not even palm himself through the denim. His arms were still crossed over his chest. His intense gaze still bore through you.
Suddenly, he leaned forward again. "Let me taste you."
You nodded, withdrawing your fingers without hesitation. Chris wrapped his long digits around your wrist, bringing your hand to his lips. He slipped your two fingers into his mouth, taking them all the way down to the knuckle. He sucked them clean, a soft hum vibrating around your fingertips as he released them.
"You taste like heaven." You could smell the tequila on his breath. That smell alone was beginning to become a turn on because of him. "C'mon. Keep goin'."
You took your fingers that were now covered in his saliva and dipped them back into your heat. You couldn't get the image of him cleaning them off with his tongue out of your head. You fucked yourself faster with them now, your knees bent and thighs splayed open. The muscles in your stomach tightened, the coil threatening to snap at any moment. Goosebumps covered every inch of you. Your breath became ragged and shallow, your chest heaving as you neared the point of no return.
"So fuckin' filthy," Chris commented, burning the image into his memory. "Go on. Cum for me. Cum all over those pretty fingers."
You trembled violently, your pussy rhythmically pulsing around your knuckles. Your climax tore through you, soft whimpers and moans spilling from your lips despite your attempts to keep quiet. You dripped onto the bench beneath you, the wetness pooling in a little puddle that made you feel even more embarrassed. Now there was evidence forever etched into the material.
You fucked yourself through your powerful orgasm, riding your own fingers fervently like you just couldn't get enough.
Chris took one more look at you like he pitied you before chuckling and wandering off down the hallway towards his bunk, your soiled panties still peeking out of his back pocket. Yeah, you weren't getting those back.
You were too embarrassed to say anything. To do anything. You sat there, naked, fingers still inside of you, and you stayed like that until your breath evened out.
When you finally gained the courage and strength to do so, you picked your blanket and remaining clothes up off the floor, clutching them to your chest, pupils blown wide and jaw hanging slack, reflecting on what the hell had just happened.
quick rant/vent… ig?? ⚠️ TW : suicide and SH talk ⚠️
3hrs ago, i got a call that shattered my world forever. one of my friends i went to school with committed tonight. I got the call from her mom. After the call, I was completely devastated. We were friends for over 2 years, so it completely shocked me when I found out.
She has 2 younger brothers. One is 5, and one is 12. She was found in her room by her 5 year old brother. Of course, at his age, he didn’t know what was going on. But in that moment, he was probably scared and confused.
For as long as I had known her, she had struggled with SH. I have helped her with it before. She was clean for a while, but I’m guessing it got bad again at one point.
I wish she would’ve told me. I could have helped her again. But there’s only so much I can do. Maybe it was too late to help her, maybe not. But I would like to think that she left this world with no pain, and that I hoped she knew how loved she was by me and her other family members. Even if they never showed it.
I hope heaven is treating her well. And I will always love her and miss her. 🤍
『 𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑴𝒆, 𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒚? ✧ 𝑪.𝑺 』
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ---› smut ⋆ exes to something more ⋆ reconciling (kinda) ⋆ sex under the influence (full consent from both parties) ⋆ missionary ⋆ fluff + more.
𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ---› 𝟐.𝟐 𝒌
𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ---› this is dedicated to both @hauntedhouseofhorrors & @ariestrxsh ’cause my dumbass is taking sooooo long to finish the fics i promised to write for you guys and i feel bad 😭 (also, i don’t even know what the fuck is going on in this i must’ve written it while drunk (i don’t drink), i gave up on proofreading so good luck to those who decide to read the whole thing)
𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 ---› english is not my first language!
inspired by chris’ photo dump (i think that’s quite obvious).
You’d been dragged to a stupid house party by your friends. They told you one night out wouldn’t kill you. And maybe they’re right. You do need to get yourself out and about more often.
As you stand there holding a solo cup, already a little heated from whatever concoction one of your friends created for you, your eyes catch something that makes your breath hitch.
On the other side of the room stands your ex boyfriend, Christopher Sturniolo. That easy grin on his lips, chatting with his friends and occasionally sipping from his own solo cup. He’s clad in a black t-shirt and black jorts. A pink gingham hat is sitting backwards on his head, partially hiding his soft brown curls that you used to love carding your finger through.
You’re so shocked to see him again—and at a party like this nonetheless—that you don’t even notice the girl clinging to him. Not that you care if he’s with a new girl anyway; He’s always with a new girl.
As if sensing a pair of eyes on him, Chris’s eyes find yours in the crowd of sweaty bodies, his lips curling up further at catching you watching him. His amusement grows when you look away, pretending like that brief eye contact didn’t just make you feel a flutter in your stomach.
He excuses himself from his friends and the girl clinging to him, leaving her sulking beside his buddies, and begins walking towards you. The smugness on his face as he navigates through the sea of people isn’t lost on you.
He knows exactly how much he affects you.
And that’s the worst part.
"Hey..." He says when he’s close enough, and tilts his head to catch your eyes. "Didn’t expect you to see you here."
"You have some audacity talking to me, Christopher." Your jaw clenches. The sarcasm bubbles off you—a defense mechanism that Chris knows all too well.
"C’mon... Don’t call me that. You know I don’t like it-"
"What are you trying to do?"
Chris blinks as you cut him off. Then laughs—a loud, amused laugh that grates on your nerves. "Jesus, I’m not trynna do anything. I’m just saying hi to my favorite ex."
"Well, you’ve said your hi. I think you should go back to your friends now." You try to dismiss him, but he’s like a pest, unwilling to leave.
"Don’t be like this-"
"Jesus Christ Chris!" You snap. “Why are you even talking to me?”
He shrugs casually, not at all bothered by your frustration. "Because I’m bored."
"Then go home," you say sharply, before adding sarcastically, "you looked like you were having enough fun."
Chris smirks—that annoying, shit-eating smirk—the kind that tells you enough how smug he’s becoming. "Jealous about it? You jealous?"
You roll your eyes so hard you think it might get stuck that way, and decide to ignore his dumbass instead of entertaining him further. Turning on your heels, you begin to make your way towards the hallway where it’s quieter. Hoping Chris would get the message and leave you alone.
But of course, the fucker follows after you like a puppy, giggling under his breath like the sight of you fuming is oh-so-entertaining.
You finally stop in your tracks and turn around so sharply you almost get a whiplash and Chris almost runs into you.
He raises his eyebrows as he looks you up and down shamelessly. "Why’d you stop?" He asks casually, like he doesn’t notice how much he’s been annoying you in the mere 5 minutes he’s interacted with you.
"Why? You’re really asking me why, Chris?" You ask incredulously. "You’ve been following me like some brainless meat puppet for the past few minutes. It’s fucking pissing me off."
Chris leans closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate sound. "Maybe if you’d just talk to me like I’m not a nuisance, I wouldn’t keep annoying you."
His hand reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, but you glare at him. Which makes him chuckle and retreat his hand, tucking it into his pocket instead.
"You’re really good at acting like you hate me.” Chris murmurs, his voice barely audible over the faint thumping of the bass from the music blasting in the main room.
"I know you’re not over me. Or us." Something shifts in his expression. Something raw he’d been hiding behind that casual grin.
"Chris-"
"Don’t shut me out again. I just want to talk... Please?"
The way he was looking at you now—softer, less cocky, almost desperate—breaks down your defenses much quicker than he thought it would.
Your expression softens against your will and you find yourself nodding slowly, sighing as you mumble out an agreement. “Okay. Yeah. We’ll talk.”
Buuut you knew in the back of your mind that it would never end with just talking when it comes to Chris.
Especially when he’s got you in his own house instead of the party you were both at.
He always knew exactly how to talk you through it. Make you beg for him before he’s even touched you.
And this time isn’t any different. You had folded before he’d even suggested anything. Climbing onto his lap and making out with him like before everything fell apart and you pretended to hate him to avoid getting heartbroken again.
Chris’s hands on your hips tightens ever so slightly as you grind your hips against his slowly. His breath hitches against your lips, feeling how warm your core is even through your clothes. His hips shift slightly, pushing his boner harder against your core and coaxing out a soft, breathy moan from you.
His hands roam over your body as the kiss deepens, trailing across your figure with such reverence you almost think he’d take things slow.
But the next second, you’re flipped under him, your gasp getting caught in your throat as you stare up at the brunette man who’d once been your person. He’s already taking off his hat before your brain can fully catch onto the position you’re in and how much you’ve missed being under him.
His t-shirt follows next, getting tossed to the floor on one side of his bed. The sight of him shirtless makes your stomach flip and you know that you’re probably staring at him so shamelessly. He looks a lot buffer than the last time you’ve seen him shirtless.
He must be hitting the gym a lot lately huh…
"You know we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to." Chris suddenly says, pulling back ever so slightly to look at you better. "I don’t want to force you into anything."
You blink, your head becoming much clearer as the slight concern in his words register. You must’ve looked like you were having second thoughts about whatever was about to happen. But that wasn’t it. Why is he not getting it? That you’re so overwhelmed with so many different emotions at seeing him like this again to even get in your head.
You were too busy checking him out to worry about anything else. And he needs to know that that’s the reason why you looked zoned out.
Your hands slowly reach out to cup his face, his skin warm against your palms. He goes stiff at first, not expecting the gentleness, before he melts into it. Eyes fluttering closed as he lets out a soft sigh, shoulders relaxing.
"I want this too. I promise." You whisper. "I just… feel overwhelmed."
You’re not sure if you should admit to it, but seeing the way he was hanging onto your every word eased some of the nerves.
"I missed this is all."
His expression softens further and his lips curl into a soft smile—one that makes your heart squeeze tightly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I did too." He admits softly, leaning down to kiss you again.
"We’ll take it slow." Is what he said.
But when his tip breached your entrance after the foreplay, he knew he was fighting a losing battle.
His hips rock slowly, gritting his teeth as he tries not to pound his fat cock into you over and over again. It’s also been such a long time since you two have had sex, and truthfully you haven’t fucked anyone since him, but you’d never admit to it.
Chris groans, his cock throbbing painfully inside your warm, wet walls that are currently squeezing the life out of him as if it wants to drain his balls. He doesn’t remember you being this fucking tight. He knows he’s big, but you always took him so well before.
His hips halt to a stop the moment he hears the little wince when he pushes a little harder. His eyes immediately search your face for any discomfort. "Fuck, you okay? Hurts?" He’s already beginning to pull out as he says so, but your legs suddenly wrap around his waist tight enough for him to sink balls deep inside you.
Both of you gasp loudly at the sensation. You feel filled to the brim. The stretch is painful—but deliciously so. It feels like he’s all up in your guts, so deep that his tip is pressing insistently against your cervix like it wants to push past it.
Chris on the other hand almost nuts inside you at the sudden soft tightness of your pussy squeezing around him like a velvet vice. He has to go completely still and try to breathe through the pleasure to prevent himself from ejaculating prematurely.
It doesn’t help him one bit when your inner muscles begin to flutter and contract around him to accommodate his size.
It takes a few long minutes for the both of you to adjust to the intense pleasure overwhelming your senses. And when Chris begins moving, he forgets all about going slow. He pulls back almost completely before slamming back home.
The sheer intensity of his thrust has you jolting up the bed, which he prevents by caging your head in with his forearms when he repeats the same motion that has you clinging to him.
Your nails dig into his back as the wind gets knocked out of your lungs each time his hips collide with yours. You can barely moan properly as the pleasure blooming up your core threatens to overwhelm you completely.
His thrusts soon turn shallow but deep. Though his pace and how hard he was fucking you didn’t change at all. His breath catches against your neck where he has his face buried, sucking and biting at your neck and shoulder like he just can’t get enough of you. Like he’s starving and you just happen to be the most delicious thing he’s tasted.
Your eyes roll back when he eases his pace but begins grinding his hips against yours in a circular motion whenever he bottoms out. His pubic bone provides such delicious friction against your clit. So much so it has your jaw going slack and pussy clenching around him tight enough for him to hiss in pleasure.
Chris knows he’s doing everything right when he hears the change in your tone and the way you’re clinging to him more than before. He knows you’re close already. But he decides to drag it out, changing his pace to one drastically slower than before.
"Chris," you whine breathily, swallowing thickly as you try to move your hips on his dick. "Don’t stop."
Chris chuckles, a low, rough sound as he keeps moving his hips slowly, dragging his hefty length along your quivering walls. "I haven’t stopped though, have I?" He questions cruelly, keeping you right on the edge without letting you tip over.
"Please, faster," you beg. "I’m so close… fuck, Chris—i’m so close-"
Hearing you beg like that finally snaps what little composure he was holding onto and he decides to give you exactly what you’re begging for.
You can barely keep your volume down when he begins to pound you into his bed. The coils in your stomach grow more and more taut with each thrust and you’re not sure if you can even handle the pleasure.
"Fuck—ngh-ahh—can feel you squeezin’ me. Oh, fuuck–" Chris moans low in his throat, his rhythm faltering by a fraction before he’s fucking even harder than before.
Warmth begins to flood through your entire body, starting from your core, before you can even warn Chris that you’re cumming. You cry out as your body arches under Chris’s, pussy milking his cock greedily. Pleasure overtakes your mind for a few earth-shattering seconds as you drown in the sensations created by your orgasm.
Chris follows soon after with a low, outdrawn moan against your neck, his hips stuttering against yours as he fills you full of his warm cum.
He keeps moving slowly, panting softly as he lifts his head up to stare at the post-coital glow on your face.
God, he adores how soft and sated you look after sex.
You feel his lips on yours before you can even catch your breath, let alone think about what this whole ordeal means to your status as exes.
Maybe you’ll leave the thinking for later.
“You felt fucking amazing…” Chris whispers against your lips, one of his hands easing down to caress your waist and hip. “Think you can go ‘nother round? Wanna taste you next.”
Yeah… you’ll definitely leave the thinking for later.
© 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒏
˖ ࣪ . ࿐💉୨ৎ THE CURE . . . 𝐌.𝐒 <𝟑 .ᐟ
𓂅 synopsis . . . years after meeting in medical school, falling in love, and building careers together as doctors, you and matt are forced to learn how to exist as nothing more than professional co-workers who are following a quiet, but also mutual breakup. however, when you get a new boyfriend a while later, matt tells himself he’s happy for you, while concealing his struggle to bury his memory of loving you.
𓂅 contains . . . unresolved angst, heavy grief over a past relationship, implied depression/loneliness, right person wrong time trope, co-workers to lovers trope, light arguing, crying, yearning, emotional burnout, a slight plot twist at the end? some flashbacks, pet name use, but literally no happy ending lol
𓂅 written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)
this is sorta proofread but not really cause i got a bit lazy so im sorry if theres some spelling or grammar mistakes :<
❝WHY CAN’T YOU COME STITCH ME UP?❞ 🫀
the fluorescent lights in the emergency room never seemed to dim. even at 8:30 in the night, the hospital was still alive and buzzing as monitors beeped steadily behind closed curtains. stretchers rolled down the polished hallways, overhead announcements echoed through the speakers every few minutes, pulling doctors and nurses in every direction at once. it was chaos, but it was the kind both you and matt had grown used to years ago.
“get another x-ray in thirty,” you said, flipping through a patient’s chart before handing it back to a nurse with a grateful smile. “thank you.” she kindly answered.
you barely had time to take two steps before another staff member caught your attention. “excuse me, doctor?” you turned around at the voice.
“room eighteen’s ct came back.” they informed you.
“i’m on my way.” you replied kindly. the busy environment around youbwas complete havoc. but it was also normal, completely normal for a workplace like this.
you rounded the corner toward radiology when another familiar figure stepped out of a patient’s room, pulling a stethoscope from around his neck.
matt. a face you recognized all too well. he looked just as exhausted as you felt, his brunette hair was slightly disheveled, sleeves rolled to his forearms, hospital badge clipped very crookedly onto his scrub top.
he glanced up from the chart in his hands. “…hey.”
“hey.” the corner of your mouth turned up slightly at the sound of his voice. you still found it comforting, it brought you a sense of warmth and relief no one else could bring you.
the exchange was automatic, comfortable, and professional like it usually had been for a while now. “how’s room twelve?” you asked him casually.
he sighed. “better than they were three hours ago.”
“that’s something.” you replied.
“yeah.” he scratched the back of his head. the conversation could’ve ended there, like most of them did these days. but, you stopped yourself before fully walking away.
“actually…” you turned back around to face him again. “are you doing anything friday night?”
he looked back up, there was the smallest pause that followed. “well, that depends.”
you smiled. “it’s my birthday.”
his expression softened almost immediately. obviously, he knew that. he could never ever even imagine himself forgetting it. “happy early birthday.” matt spoke softly.
“thanks.” you shifted the charts against your hip. “a few people from the hospital are getting dinner after the evening shift, like a little celebration…you should come, it’ll be fun.”
for a second he simply just looked at you, not searching for hidden meaning, just…surprised you’d even asked him, or wanted him to be there. “yeah.” he nodded once. “i’d like that.”
“perfect, the reservation is at 7:30, don’t be late!” you chirped out.
one corner of his mouth lifted. “i’m never late.”
you gave him a look. “…you once showed up forty minutes late to class.”
“that was years ago, and only one time!” he laughed, it slipped out of his mouth so effortlessly, it felt like a breath of fresh air.
“you literally forgot we had an exam, matt.” you raised your eyebrows at him tauntingly.
matt began to speak, “in my defense—”
“don’t.” you laughed, the sound seemed to catch both of you off guard, because for the briefest moment…it felt familiar, natural.
then another overhead alert shattered the moment. “dr. sturniolo to icu.” matt glanced toward the elevators. “welp, that’s me.”
“see you friday.” you cleared your throat awkwardly, the tension was so thick you could slice it with a knife.
“see you.” matt took one last glance at you before walking off. you watched him disappear down the hallway before turning back toward your own patient. however, neither of you noticed the nurse at the station smiling to herself. she’d worked there long enough to remember when the two of you practically lived in these hallways together.
A FEW YEARS AGO . . .
the ER had looked exactly the same, except you were both younger, residents fresh out of med school, running almost entirely on caffeine.
“you absolutely did not, matt!” your voice beamed
“I DID!!” he laughed, nudging your shoulders.
you were laughing so hard you nearly dropped the stack of patient charts in your arms. matt was beside you, carrying two coffees. “the head doctor literally asked who forgot to order the chest x-ray.” he exclaimed, tone cheery.
“because it was you who forgot!” you laughed again as he dramatically pretended to look offended by what you said, the sound of your laughter mixing with his echoed through the hallway.
a nurse passing by smiled. “you two are entirely too cheerful for people who’ve been working for over twenty hours now.”
“it’s sleep deprivation,” matt answered immediately.
“we’ve lost all sense of reality.” your response immediately followed after his. “he tried prescribing tylenol to himself before he’d even had coffee this morning,” you added.
matt gasped dramatically. “that information was confidential!”
you bumped your shoulder into his. “confidentiality doesn’t apply to your embarrassing moments.”
“i’m reporting you for bullying.” he joked, you rolled your eyes.
he handed you one of the coffees. as you took it, your fingers brushed his. it was warm, familiar. without thinking, you smiled, and he smiled right back, effortless, like it was the easiest thing in the world. because during that time, it was.
PRESENT TIME.
your pager buzzed sharply against your hip, the memory disappeared as quickly as it had come. you blinked, and just like that you were back in the hallway, back to years later, where the only thing you and matt shared anymore were patient updates, consults, and polite conversations between shifts.
A FEW DAYS LATER . . .
friday, or—your birthday, came faster than either of you expected. the restaurant is loud in the comfortable kind of way, silverware clinks against plates. someone at another table laughs too hard at a joke. candles flicker inside little glass holders, reflecting against the windows that overlook the city. it’s one of the few nights most of your friends from work have somehow managed to get the same evening off after a shift, and gather together.
you smooth down your sparkly, and elgegant dress as you stand near the front with your boyfriend, waiting for everyone else to arrive. “you nervous?” he asks, lacing his fingers through yours.
“a little.” you smile awkwardly.
“what? because i’m meeting everyone?”
“yep.”
he laughs. “i’ll survive.” before you can answer, the restaurant door opens.
matt walks in, he still carries himself exactly the same. his hands are tucked into the pockets of his coat. his eyes slightly tired from another twelve-hour shift, and his hair a little messy from the wind. he spots the group first, and then he spots you. he smiles politely, “happy birthday.”
“thanks for coming.” your eyes lock with him. he steps closer, except his eyes drift naturally to your hand that’s intertwined with someone else’s. just for a second, it’s almost impossible to notice, but his smile never drops.
you suddenly realize. “right—” your stomach twists. “um, matt…this is ethan, my boyfriend.”
your boyfriend smiles immediately. “i’ve heard a lot about you.”
matt looks at him, then back at you, and then offers his hand.“nice to meet you.”
ethan shakes it. “same here.”
if anyone were watching from another table, they’d never guess you and matt had once shared a tiny apartment during med school, or survived thirty-hour rotations together, or fallen asleep over textbooks on the same couch, or how many times he’s carried you from your desk to your bed when you fell asleep studying, cuddling you shortly after, or how you planned a future together. they would never know the history between you two that was now tucked away completely, as if there had never been anything there in the first place.
“come on,” someone calls from the table.
“birthday girl’s here!”
everyone starts stitting down, you end up across from matt with ethan right beside you. someone orders appetizers, someone starts telling an embarrassing story, everyone laughs, and matt laughs too.
matt asks ethan questions, like where he works, and how long you two have been together. he’s polite, he nods at every answer, he even smiles at ethan before speaking again, “take care of her.” it’s said lightly, almost jokingly.
ethan just grins. “that’s the plan.”
matt nods once. “good.” you catch his eyes for just a second. there’s warmth inside of it, laced with kindness, nothing bitter, not at all, because that’s not the kind of person matt is.
the cake arrives eventually, its your favorite kind. everyone sings, of course, you’re embarrassed and shy, blushing the entire time as ethan kisses your temple while everyone cheers dramatically.
someone whistles, someone pretends to gag, you laugh so hard you nearly knock over your water. across the table—matt smiles, a real one. you’re happy, you’re laughing, and despite everything…he still likes seeing that, it means everything to him even all these years later.
later, everyone starts splitting the bill, and hugging goodbye, and also making plans that everyone knows will probably get canceled because hospital schedules are impossible.
you go up and hug matt, it’s brief and friendly. “thanks again for coming.”
“wouldn’t ever miss your birthday.” he replies politely.
the conversation ends just as quickly as it had started with a simple, “drive safe,” and “you too,” in response. you smile, ethan wraps an arm around your shoulders as the two of you walk toward his car, you don’t look back.
matt watches you leave, and for a second, he remembers another night. with a different parking lot, a different version of you, when you two were dating.
FLASHBACK . . .
you were both so exhausted, still wearing your scrubs after a sixteen-hour day. you had been complaining about how your feet hurt while he carried your coffee for you, insisting that you were incapable of walking and drinking at the same time.
“you’re so dramatic,” he teased.
you rolled your eyes. “i just spent twelve hours saving lives, matt.”
“you also almost walked into a door because you were staring at your notes.” matt tilted his head at you playfully.
“that is unrelated!” he laughed at your response, and you smiled despite yourself, he gently leaned in to kiss you, you both closed your eyes, feeling the tension of your work day release as you just melted into each other. after matt pulled away, you both stood there under the parking lot lights, too happy to care about anything else but the two of you.
back then, the future felt so easy to tthink about, you talked about residency programs, apartments, maybe getting a dog someday. maybe a house. maybe even a family. everything was a “when,” and never an “if,” scenario.
matt remembers looking at you that night and thinking that somehow, after everything you had survived together, the hardest part was over. he didn’t know then that the hardest part would be learning how to live without you by his side.
PRESENT TIME . . .
matt snapped back into reality immediately as he waits, he always waits until everyone else leaves, it’s just a habit of his. he unlocks his car and slides into the driver’s seat before shutting the car door, the silence of the night suddenly feeling louder than ever.
for a while, he just sits there. the dashboard glows softly, the light reflecting on his face, extenuating his features. his phone buzzes suddenly, interrupting the silence, its just another one of his co-workers in the emergency department asking about tomorrow’s rounds. he ignores it.
instead…his eyes drift toward the empty passenger seat that you used to sit in, he remembers your birthday years ago, in med school, when you two were inseparable.
you’d insisted instant ramen counted as a birthday dinner because neither of you could afford anything else, you wore one of his hoodies because your apartment’s heating system was broken. he’d stolen a cupcake from the student lounge, you’d jokingly called him a criminal. he’d told you, “for you? absolutely.” you’d laughed so hard that day you’d cried.
he remembers thinking—one day, i’m going to marry her.
his chest tightens at the memory. slowly…he reaches toward the center console and opens the small compartment, inside there’s an old velvet box. he already knows it’s there, because it’s always been there. his fingers hesitate before picking it up, the box is worn now, the corners softened with time and heartbreak.
he flips it open, and a beautiful diamond ring catches the dim light from the parking lot, it was simple yet so elegant. it was exactly what you’d once pointed out in a jewelry store window years ago. ethan would never know that, he wouldn’t know as much about you as matt does.
“ehhhh….nothing huge,” you’d said that day. “i’d rather it looked like something i’d actually wear every day, simple but still pretty, y’know?”
he’d remembered, every single detail. he’d bought it three months before everything fell apart, three months before the conversations became shorter, before work consumed both of you, before exhaustion took over, before neither of you knew how to ask for what you needed anymore, before the breakup that hadn’t involved screaming, or cheating, or any sort of betrayal.
just two people who loved each other, and somehow still couldn’t make it work no matter how much you wanted it to. matt suddenly remembers the night it all ended between you guys, the worst part of it wasn’t even the words said itself, it was that it didn’t even involve screaming or yelling…it was just so full of bottled up hurt that had erupted that very night.
matt remembers that you were sitting on the kitchen floor of your guys’s apartment, still wearing your hospital badge because neither of you had even bothered changing after your shifts, there were two untouched cups of coffee on the counter, you had been waiting for him to come home.
“i don’t know how to keep doing this,” you had whispered.
matt just looked at you, exhausted. it was all he had the energy to do at that point. “doing what?”
“feeling like i’m alone while i’m with you.” the words had left your mouth before you could even think about them.
but he knew you meant them, and you knew he didn’t mean to make you feel that way. “baby, i’m trying,” he’d said quietly.
“i know you are, and i appreciate that more than ever.” you’d looked down. “but that’s the problem. i know you’re trying. i’m trying too. and somehow we’re still managing to hurt each other. i barely even see you anymore, matt. and when i do…we just argue.”
he sat beside you, but neither of you reached for the other, and for the first time in years, being close didn’t feel like enough. “do you still love me?” he asked, his voice shaking.
you’d cried before you answered, because the answer was obvious. “yes, i never stopped. i couldn’t ever stop loving you.”
his eyes closed. “i love you too, so damn much it hurts.” his voice wavered as he spoke. that specifically was what made things so difficult, the fact that neither of you stopped loving each other, you just stopped knowing how to be happy together.
you never even knew he was going to propose, that there had been a reservation at your favorite restaurant, that he’d even asked your parents for permission, that he’d spent weeks carrying this ring around because he couldn’t wait for the right moment. but there just…hadn’t been one. before he could even get on one knee, and devote his life long love to you, everything just fell apart. it never happened, the future you had planned out. he bought the ring when an anticipated forever with the woman he loved most still felt like something you both had time to reach. what he hadn’t expected, was that time would run out before he even knew it.
matt’s thumb brushes over the diamond. outside, he sees you through the windshield, ethan opens the passenger door for you, and you smile at him, you laugh about something, and then the car pulls away, its taillights disappear into traffic. matt watches until he can’t anymore. only then does the first tear fall from his eyes. he laughs once, quietly, not filled with any sort of amusement, however.
“good,” he whispers imperceptibly. “i’m glad you’re happy.” his voice breaks on the last word, he closes the ring box carefully and places it back into the compartment. not completely because he’s waiting, or that he thinks someday you’ll come back to him like he wishes you would, but because after all these years he still hasn’t figured out how to let go of the future he’d once carried in a little box. maybe he won’t ever be the cure to making you happy. and if he can’t be, at least someone else can be that person for you.
that alone, is more than enough for him.
©𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐇𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎
WEAKNESS ── CHRIS STURNIOLO
⤷ masterlist ⟶ previous scene ⤷ cw . . . emotional distress, crying, and suggestive language . . . ⤷ DIVIDER MEANS YOU'RE READING A FLASHBACK!
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Snow fell gently against the window as Jenn sat in her fiancé’s apartment, engrossed in finishing a project for an upcoming event before she left for the day. After leaving her father's company, she had transitioned to working as a freelance event marketing manager.
Leaving her father’s company the previous year had been difficult. The second time she tried to resign, it led to a week of silence between them; he believed she would give up as she had done before. However, when she cleared her desk for good after two weeks, he was furious. Fortunately, it didn’t last long. By the end of the week, he called her, apologized—most likely after her mother talked sense into him—and listened to her business idea. However, she was still cut off from her family's main bank accounts.
It had been mostly smooth sailing from there.
“Early morning?”
She heard her fiancé, Brax, behind her. He was shirtless in only a pair of sweatpants as he walked towards her.
“Just finishing stuff before I need to head out. I’ll probably not stop by tonight, though,” she said, slightly smiling.
Brax, Braxton Miller. She had met him nearly a year ago when he became one of her first official clients. He had sought her help with the marketing aspect of his small, growing company. After she completed her project for him, he asked her out. Things had gone well at the beginning. They ended up getting really drunk on their first date and slept together. Their relationship continued that way until Brax officially asked her to be his girlfriend and came up with a proposition.
Marry him.
Brax was the same age as Jenn. 28, almost 29. During their third date, he explained that he needed a wife to secure his position as CEO of the family company while he built his empire. Brax came from old money, part of a lineage of powerful families. This arrangement also worked for Jenn, as she would gain access to her inheritance after marriage—her family was just as established, even if not as wealthy.
Jenn agreed to the marriage partly out of a desire to appease her nagging family. Perhaps she hadn’t fully considered the implications when she made her decision, but it seemed logical at the time. It was also because, since she was off the family bank accounts, she felt more of a need to tie herself down, just in case it didn’t work out.
Thankfully, her business did work out, and given her experience, she was making more than enough, but still. It was a good business move, and Brax seemed like a good guy so far. He wasn’t conventionally her type, but he was as good as it gets at her age. She truly believed she’d love him as time went on.
Brax touched her knee and looked at her intently. “Are you sure? I enjoy it when you stay over, Jenn.” When he said ‘staying over’ he meant having someone to sleep next to before bed. The unfortunate truth was that while Brax wasn’t terrible in bed, but their encounters lacked passion. It felt more like hookups than sex with a partner. That was the only reason she hadn’t finished with him one or two times. “There's no need to leave so soon,” he added.
She gave a faint smile as she shut her laptop and stood up. “Thank you, but I have to meet with two clients today, and I’ll be exhausted by the end of it. Plus, my presence is wanted at that new art gallery opening tonight. Unfortunately.”
Brax nodded. He moved toward the door to grab his gym bag, throwing on a random shirt that clung to his athletic frame. “Alright, I'll see you, yeah? I’m heading to the gym.”
The routine of their mornings had settled into a predictable rhythm, a blend of work and personal life that felt both comforting and stifling. Brax disappeared out the door, and Jenn collected her things, her thoughts swirling. She was proud of the path she had chosen, but the ever-present weight of her decisions consumed her.
She drove along the main road, passing through Wall Street. When she stopped at a stoplight, her throat bobbed as she looked up at the towering glass structure staring back at her. COS security.
She glanced away, her chest suddenly feeling heavy. She hadn’t seen Chris since the incident at the annual charity gala. She wasn’t planning on dwelling on it, but when the light turned green and she drove closer to the entrance of his building, his solemn face and memories of that night all came back to her…
"I love you, Jenn."
The moment he said it, time seemed to stop. He wasn’t allowed to say that—not with what was happening in her life right now, especially after they hadn’t seen each other in over a year.
“Say something, sweetheart.”
His voice was achingly soft, so gentle it almost felt like he was standing too close. She took a step back, shaking her head.
"You... you can't say that.” She choked out. No matter how much her heart wanted to believe it, it just wasn’t right. “You can't love me, Chris."
"Why the hell not?"
She decided to be honest. The truth would come out eventually. But just as she was about to reveal that she had a fiancé, Brax opened the door with a concerned expression. Fucking hell. She cursed under her breath.
Brax walked towards her before standing close, but not close enough to suspect anything. She finally turned to Chris, who looked annoyed, and a second away from crossing over to Brax, but didn’t get to when Brax spoke.
"Do we have a problem here?"
"We're having a private conversation.” Chris glared at him. Fuck she really didn’t want Chris to find out like this. “I'd appreciate it if you'd please leave.”
"I'm afraid I can't do that."
"Respectfully, this doesn't concern you."
“Well, respectfully,” Brax glared back at Chris. “It absolutely has something to do with me if you're standing here cornering my fiancée."
Jenn felt every muscle in her body lock as the air halted. Shit, she didn’t think he’d say it plainly like that. Her stomach dropped so violently she thought she might actually be sick, as if she was the one learning she was betrothed. 
Slowly, almost painfully, her eyes lifted to Chris. He hadn't moved, but she could tell that his eyes were searching hers, desperately, as though waiting for her to laugh and tell the stranger he'd misunderstood.
Then his eyes curved down towards her left hand, making Jenn instinctively curl against herself. Just as it was too late, he’d already seen the diamond sitting heavy on her finger.
As if the disbelief on his face wasn’t enough, it turned into pain, which was somehow even worse.
"...Fiancée?"
His voice was so indifferent it almost could have made it seem like he didn’t care, if it wasn’t for his pale face. Jenn had never seen Christopher Sturniolo look small before. He was born to stand out, not shrink himself.
“Yeah, man. Fiancé,” Jenn could have forgotten Brax was standing there if he hadn’t opened his mouth again. “That's why I’m a little concerned. I don’t appreciate you—” Brax paused as a flicker of recognition crossed his face. "Wait—my apologies, you're Christopher Sturniolo, aren't you?”
God we didn’t need nepotism right now.
Chris's didn't answer as his gaze remained fixed on Jenn. Brax took the silence as confirmation. "I thought so." A polite smile appeared. "My company actually reached out to COS Security a few weeks ago. We're in the process of upgrading our security infrastructure."
Chris finally glanced at her rambling fiancé and looked him up and down. Still impassive, but something in Chris’s gaze was telling her that Brax was probably not receiving services from Chris anytime soon after this.
Jenn looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole, but Brax glanced between the two of them. "I didn't realize the two of you knew each other."
“I wouldn’t say we're close. It wasn’t like I was informed about this engagement.”
His harsh tone was worse than his silence.
That somehow hurt more than if he'd shouted them.
Jenn's chest tightened.
She finally found her voice and turned toward Brax. "Do you mind giving us a minute? I'll come find you soon."
"You sure?" Brax asked.
"Yes. I’ll be out shortly." There was another long pause as Brax hesitated to move. “I’m fine, I promise.”
"Alright." He leaned down and pressed a brief kiss to the side of her forehead—she noticed how Chris looked away—as he quietly added, "I'll be right outside if you need me."
Her fiancé gave Chris one last measured look before turning and walking out, the door clicking shut behind him. Neither of them moved.
Chris stood exactly where he had been left. His shoulders were so tense that she could practically see his biceps straining, while his hands were shoved deeply into the pockets of his trousers, so tightly that she wondered if his nails were digging into his palms.
“How long?”
She couldn't answer.
“Jenn.” His jaw tightened as he repeated the question. “How long?”
“A little over a year,” she finally said. It was happening already; she might as well tell him everything. “We got engaged three months ago. His name is Braxton.”
Chris didn't react, but the muscle in his jaw twitched. “Are your parents forcing you?”
“What?”
“They arranged this, didn’t they? I can’t see any other reason for why you’d be engaged in the span of one year.”
She looked away, something close to guilt flooding her cheeks. But she shouldn’t feel like that. This was her life. “No, it wasn’t arranged. We met on our own.”
“So you found someone they approved of and pushed yourself into it.” His voice was so sure. She wanted to raise her voice and tell him he was wrong, but he wasn’t. Not fully. “Is that it, Jenn?”
“They've been encouraging me to settle down, yes, but they didn't force this. We met, and he asked me out and started dating.”
“Why the hell are you marrying a man you've barely known?” His disbelief was impossible to miss. “And within a year you're engaged?”
“It's not like that!” Her frustration began to surface. “You don’t know anything, Chris. Brax is a good man and we’ve built something together, whether it has taken one month or the entire year we've had. You can't just come in and act like you understand exactly what this is.”
“Alright, Jenn, then what was it like?”
She looked down at the ring. “We've known each other long enough for me to know he's a good man. And yes, maybe it's only been a year, but I also wanted to stop wondering whether my life would ever move forward.”
“It sounds like you're getting married to please your parents.”
She opened her mouth. “No—”
“And to convince yourself that safe is enough.” He took two steps closer. “So you can finally stop waiting and maybe...” His next words were almost whispered. “To try and forget about us.”
She stood like a deer in headlights; she couldn't tell him he was wrong. Not completely. There had been nights she'd stared at the ceiling, convincing herself that saying yes to Brax meant finally closing the chapter Christopher had occupied for years.
“Do you love him?”
His sudden question caught her off guard. It was a simple yes or no answer, but she couldn’t bring herself to respond. That would be a lie. Yes, she liked Brax, but no, she didn’t love him. At least not yet.
"As I said..." she began carefully, buying herself time. "He's a good man. He'll make an incredible husband someday, a wonderful father... he's dependable, he's kind, and he's ready to build a life with—"
“That’s not what I asked, Jenn.”
Well shit. He got her there.
“I asked if you love him.”
"Yes…" She let out a deep sigh and lied anyway. "I love him, and he loves me."
"Right." Chris let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "That's really convincing."
Jenn's chin dropped toward the floor, and heat flooded her face. She hated that he could see right through her. A tear slipped free before she could stop it, and she quickly wiped it away, feeling embarrassed.
When she looked back up, Chris wasn't looking at her with frustration anymore; he was looking at her with concern. His expression softened completely, making her chest ache.
He closed the distance between them.
"Jenn." His voice had become impossibly gentle. "If something's wrong, tell me."
"Nothing's wrong."
"I don't believe you."
A tear trailed down her cheek, and Chris’ own expression cracked.
“Love…” The endearment slipped out before he could stop it. His thumb brushed lightly beneath her eye, catching the tear before it could fall. “If there’s something you’re not telling me, I’ll fix it. I’ll sort it out. Whatever it is.” His words came faster now.
“If it’s your parents, I’ll talk to them. If it’s money, expectations, your career—I don’t care. I’ll help you figure it out.”
His breathing became uneven.
“Don’t do this.” His hand dropped from her face and gently took hers instead. “Please. Don’t marry him.”
The words seemed to cause him pain as he spoke them. “I know I don’t have the right to ask this; I know I messed up. I should have fought harder. But if there’s even a small part of you that is doing this because you think it’s what you’re supposed to do…” He squeezed her hand once. “…please don’t.”
Sorrow tightened around her chest; there wasn’t enough air to combat her self-loathing, and her eyes filled with longing as Chris leaned closer.
"Whatever you want, I'll give it to you. I'll spend the rest of my life making up for every mistake I've made. Hell, I'll stand in front of your parents tonight if I have to." His forehead nearly rested against hers. "Just don’t choose a life that isn't the one you truly want."
He was asking her to choose him.
It wasn't that easy, though. She couldn’t break her promise to Brax just because Chris had suddenly shown up. This was what he always did—he appeared when she was at her worst and most vulnerable. But the past had proven that their dynamic wasn’t the healthiest.
“We’re not the example of a perfect relationship, Chris. We’ve hated each other longer than we’ve liked each other. With Brax, it’s easy. He doesn’t stress me out or make me feel like I always need to one-up him. He doesn’t lie to me. So what makes you so sure you can be everything I need—”
“Because I'm the one who loves you, Jenn!”
It was the first time since Brax had left the room that Chris lost his composure and let his rage show.
“I’m the one who would kill and die for you in a second. If you think I’ve hated you, then that’s fucking bullshit. Maybe you’ve hated me, Jenn, but I haven’t. I have never hated you, not once, not ever. I have loved you since as long as I remember—attitude and all. Ever since you entered my life seven years ago, you haven’t left my mind. You want me to beg? I will. Just don’t do this.”
She wanted to agree and be selfish, to forget about Brax and everything else. But that wouldn't be fair to either of them, especially with everything already happening.
"That's not good enough." A shudder rippled through his body, and pain etched across his face, so intense it felt as if she were stabbing herself. "It's done, Chris. I love Brax, and I’m marrying him. My parents already know, and the engagement announcement will happen in two months."
"So we’re done?" His voice was low and dangerous, edged with hurt. "You’ll marry this Brax to live your high-society dreams, and completely forgetting about all this?"
"I’m sorry, Chris. It’s over."
Don’t look at him.
"No, Jenn, I’m fucking sorry."
He left the room so quickly that the slam of the door didn’t even startle her.
Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but as she began to lose her balance and her heels felt heavier, she knew that if she cried now, she wouldn’t be able to stop. So, as she always did, she composed herself. She got up, fixed her appearance, and rejoined her fiancé and parents in the hall as if nothing had happened. Chris was nowhere to be found...
That was all two weeks ago. When she got back to her apartment that night, she cried for what felt like hours. It wasn’t just about Chris; she felt like a complete screw-up. There had been radio silence from his end, and she hadn’t seen him at her father’s office during her visits either.
She supposed that's what she'd asked for.
The following day slipped by in a blur of meetings and deadlines. She spent her afternoon with her clients, discussing campaigns, reviewing proposals, and attending presentations that demanded just enough of her attention to keep her mind from wandering where it inevitably wanted to go.
By the time she wrapped up her final meeting that evening, the sun had already begun to dip below the New York skyline. She headed back to her apartment.
Tonight was the opening gala for the Wellington Foundation's annual charity exhibition, a black-tie affair she had helped with.
She wore a long black dress, which seemed to be her new favorite color since she had retired from wearing maroon and red. She had changed quite a bit. Her hair was now short, a significant shift from the waist-length hair she had worn her whole life. Chris had loved her long hair. Brax liked her short hair and even encouraged her to cut it.
When her driver got her to the place, she went in and immediately looked around, proud of her work and what she’d done with the place for the night.
She spent a lot of time talking with Mrs. Wellington, who was the owner of the museum and was the one who had hired her for the event.
She wore a floor-length black gown. Black had quietly become her color over the last two years. Once upon a time, her wardrobe had revolved around rich maroons and deep reds—shades someone had once told her she looked beautiful in.
Now, they rarely made an appearance.
She had changed in more ways than one. The most obvious was her hair. Gone was the waist-length dark hair she'd worn almost her entire life. In its place was a sleek cut that rested just above her shoulders, framing her face in a way that made her look older.
Chris had always loved her long hair. Brax had smiled the first time she'd mentioned cutting it. "I think it'd suit you," he'd told her. So she'd done it.
When her driver pulled up outside the museum, she took one steadying breath before stepping out into the crisp evening air. She paused just inside the entrance, allowing herself a small smile. It had come together beautifully.
For the next hour, she moved effortlessly through the crowd. She greeted donors, thanked sponsors, checked in with vendors, and made subtle adjustments whenever something needed attention.
Eventually, Mrs. Wellington found her, and the older woman clasped both of Jenn's hands and warmly praised her for the amazing event.
Jenn thanked her before they spent another few minutes discussing the evening's schedule and the upcoming charity auction. Just as Mrs. Wellington was called away by another guest, Jenn turned only to be pulled into an unexpected embrace.
"Oh my God!"
"Elena?"
She pulled back just enough to cup Jenn's face before hugging her all over again. "I've missed you so much!”
Jenn couldn't help but laugh, wrapping her arms around her in return. “Its honestly been way to long.”
"I know it has been forever!" Elena exclaimed dramatically, holding her at arm's length. "Do you know how offended I am? You disappeared!"
Elena looked her over, taking in the black dress before her eyes landed on Jenn's shorter hair. "You look gorgeous; this hair is very Betty Boop."
Jenn rolled her eyes, laughing. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment. It's really good to see you."
"It is." Elena's expression softened. "I almost didn’t come because of the laziness, but you know Matt. He’s persuasive."
Jenn's smile wavered slightly at the mention of Matt. Matt reminded her of Chris, unfortunately.
Elena, his wife, was a prime example of a bubbly personality and seemed like she was always on one too many drinks. Despite that, she was one of the sweetest people Jenn knew. They had been friends since they were part of the same social circle. Elena was the CEO of her own makeup company, which she’d built on her own, and Jenn was proud to be a PR receiver from said brand.
"Actually," Elena said, her face lighting up as though she'd just remembered something, "I wanted to ask you something. I'm planning a brand trip this summer. Hopefully everything gets approved. I want you to come."
"Me?"
"Yes, you girly," She nudged her shoulder. "I'm telling you early because I know you're impossible to schedule anything with. If I wait until spring, you'll tell me you're booked until Christmas. So, what do you say?"
Jenn didn't even have to think about it. "Of course I'll come. I wouldn't turn down a free vacation. Especially one where I don't have to plan every detail myself."
"I knew you'd say yes!" Elena beamed. "Perfect. I'll send you the mood board and—"
She stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes had dropped to Jenn's left hand. More specifically, to the diamond resting there. Her mouth slowly fell open.
"Shut up!" Elena grabbed her wrist before Jenn could tuck her hand away. "You're engaged? And I didn’t flipping know?!"
Jenn couldn't help but laugh. "It's... recent."
She held Jenn's hand closer to inspect the diamond. "Oh, this is beautiful." The ring was beautiful. It was fully silver and Jenn only wore gold but it was still nice. She wasn’t going to talk about that though. "But no, seriously. You need to start talking now."
Before she could answer, a familiar arm slipped around Elena's waist from behind. Matt smiled down as he pulled his wife gently against his side before pressing an affectionate kiss to her temple.
"What's got you so excited, baby?"
Elena spun toward him with the same enthusiasm. "Jenn's engaged!"
Matt's easy smile lingered for exactly one second, then disappeared. His stare felt like it was piercing her soul. He didn’t say anything, but he looked like he was assessing.
“Uh, darling. Don’t just stand there, congratulate her!” Elena slapped her husband's arm lightly, gaze disapproving. “You're being rude.”
Matt didn’t congratulate her. “Who are you engaged to?”
Jenn cleared her throat, his gaze making her slightly uncomfortable. “Braxton Miller. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”
Matt's eyebrows lifted. Beside him, Elena's jaw dropped so dramatically that Matt glanced down, sighed, and gently pushed it shut with the back of his hand as though this was far from the first time he'd had to do so.
"Grab me by the pussy and suck my tits—shut up!" Elena clapped both hands over her mouth a split second later, eyes wide with excitement. "Braxton Miller? Damn, girl! I didn't know you were into blondes, but good for you! I mean, he's rich, ridiculously handsome, apparently a sweetheart—"
Matt's quiet voice cut cleanly through her rambling.
"Does Chris know?"
The laughter disappeared from Jenn's face, and Elena looked between the two of them in confusion as she went to speak. "Chris? Wait... why would—" A familiar rough male voice sounded from directly behind them, cutting her off.
"Do I know what?"
Chris stood only a few feet away, one hand tucked into the pocket of his tailored black suit, the other loosely holding a champagne flute. He had somehow crossed the ballroom without any of them noticing and now stood beside Matt, his attention shifting between the group before finally settling on Jenn.
He looked unfairly good. The black suit and the collar of his crisp white shirt left open just enough to soften the otherwise intimidating look. A light layer of stubble shadowed his jaw, making him look more intimidating. It was only when she really looked at him that she noticed the faint dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked tired.
Elena, blissfully unaware of the tension that had suddenly settled over the group, smiled brightly. "Jenn's engaged!"
Something flickered across Chris’ face. So quickly she almost convinced herself she'd imagined it. Then it was gone. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly before he gave a single nod.
"So I've heard."
His voice was calm, almost indifferent. If someone didn’t know him, they might have mistaken it for disinterest. But Jenn could see right through it, and clearly, so could Matt, who was watching his brother with concern and sympathy. It was evident that Matt was aware of their situation.
He was holding himself together with frightening precision, looking mere seconds away from hurling his champagne glass across the room. Jenn hated that she noticed.
“Oh, for Pete's sake. You two are so rude.” Elene glared at the two triplets. “First, this dummy—” she poked at her husband's chest—“doesn’t congratulate her. Now you don’t either,” she glared at Chris.
“Congratulations.”
Chris might as well be swallowing broken glass the way he said it.
Matt, meanwhile, wasn't paying attention anymore. He was watching Chris, and his expression softened as he looked at Elena. "Hey, baby, let's get going. I made reservations at that Indian restaurant you've been talking about for the past month."
“Wait, actually—” She looked confused, but it was clear she understood the hint from Matt's gaze. “I mean, I’ve already eaten, but I won’t say no to that.”
Elena hugged Jenn one last time, reminding her that they were long overdue for a proper girls' day. She congratulated her again. Matt gave Jenn an appreciative nod and told Chris he’d see him tomorrow. Then they were gone.
Jenn kept her eyes fixed on the marble floor for a moment, unsure who was supposed to speak first. Chris beat her to it.
"I see you're finally starting to show off the ring."
"It isn't like that, Chris." Jenn instinctively looked down at her hand. "I wasn't showing it off."
He let out a dry, bitter laugh. “You're definitely wearing it proudly, though.”
"He's my fiancé. So yes," She lifted her chin slightly, not falling for his bait. "I'm wearing the ring he gave me. So please don’t question my engagement."
"Apologies,” he lifted a brow in mock surrender. “It's just that this engagement itself is a bit questionable.”
"Keep questioning it then. I don't have to convince you of anything."
"Bummer,” they stood side by side now, staring up at a painting of some lake. “I just wanted to understand how the woman who once told me she couldn't fake feelings ended up promising forever to someone she doesn't even love."
Fuck she had said that.
"At the end of the day, Chris, I make love to him every night. Not you."
The words landed exactly as she'd intended.
His hand closed firmly around her wrist. Before she could react, he guided her a step closer, just enough that they were hidden from the immediate view of the guests passing through the gallery. His face was inches from hers.
His eyes had gone impossibly dark.
"Careful, Bella." His breath fanned her cheek. “If you’re trying to hurt me, then congratulations. It worked. But talk about fucking another man to me again, I'll ruin us both right here and you’ll forget you even have a fiancée."
ceyana’s note: much aticipated! i love you, mwah <3
© 𝐂𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎
