ber ৎ

she / her . ꨄ︎

[confvss]

what are your opinions on madi?? and what do you think about her and the triplets not being friends anymore?

I actually liked madi alot, it makes me sad that they're never gonna post a vid together (who knows, tho jkjk, I doubt), but people who mention the triplets in her tiktoks needs to realize that madi is a person too, and she's not just the "triplets friend".

[serenitysturn]

when did matt and lucky last fuck

probably like less than twenty minutes after this story was posted. the whole house was asleep, ice cream bowls were completely melted and abandoned, and lucky was bent over the kitchen counter at the triplets’ place with matt going to towwwwnnnnnn. they had to be super quiet tho cos birdie, chris & nick were all asleep upstairs so every time lucky got too loud, matt would put his fingers in her mouth #newkinkunlocked 🫡

[mattsturnioloslazyeye]

Men who take off your shoes, carefully peel your sheer tights to massage and kiss the arch of your foot before resting your legs on their shoulder and burying their face on your pussy vs. Men who toss you face down, ass up, and tear up a hole in your tights so they can eat you out from the back through it

I read that somewhere and immediately thought of Matt and Chris and had to tell someone

and thank you for sharing this because you just made my day

matt would definitely be the first one, we all know hes a munch at heart and he would treat you so delicately while also bullying your clit with his tongue. he would speak so sweet and praise you so kindly while overstimulating you to the brink of overstimulation

as for chris, he would be the second one. he wouldnt give a fuck about those tights ur wearing, heat of the moment after all. when you complain about him ripping a hole in them he would mutter "ill buy you new ones" before delving into that pussy

[chrissbunny]

- shouldn’t feel like this

contains: cheating ig?, swearing, girl fighting boy, oral (f receiving + giving), let me know if i missed anything.

pairing: rich!chris x stripper!kandi x bestfriend!cleo

know before you read: lowercase intended.

at around eight-thirty, you and cleo get to the party.

“do you want to dance or get drinks first?” cleo looks around the party, then looks at you.

“i think we should get a bit of drinks first. also, have you seen chris?”

“i haven’t, do you want me to look for him?” you nod. “i’ll help look too.”

you start looking outside first, and she looks inside. you hear her yelling upstairs.

“what the fuck, chris? what is wrong with you!” you immediately run upstairs, towards the room you hear cleo’s voice. when you walk in, you see a girl on his lap.

“kandi, go outside. i’ll deal with him.” you listen to her and go outside, knowing what she’s capable of.

cleo’s point of view

you walk over to him and punch chris in the jaw, making him groan out of pain. “why the fuck would you do something like this to kandi? huh? fucking talk!”

you give him an uppercut, “oh, so now you don’t wanna fight back? never ever contact kandi again, you hear me?”

he cries out of pain, “yes, i promise. i won’t contact her..”

“good.”, you turn around, getting ready to walk to the door, “oh, one last thing!” you punch him one last time in the jaw again. “fuck you, chris.”

back to kandi’s point of view

you see cleo walk out of the room, and you look at her fist. you sigh, and look up at her. “let’s go get you cleaned up.

you two go to the bathroom and you sit on the counter after grabbing a first aid kit. “let me see your hand.” you grab a wipe and wipe the blood off, making her hiss in pain.

“i know, cleo. i know.” you look up at her, seeing her already looking at you. “why are you looking at me like that?” you raise an eyebrow.

“i never liked seeing you with him. i’m gonna be honest, it made me more jealous than i have ever been.” you freeze. “what? it made you jealous?”

she kisses you, tension that has been there for years exploding in a second. you hum against her lips, kissing back. cleo pulls back, “let me have you, give me a chance.”

you swallow, then nod. she immediately pulls off your dress and panties, diving into your cunt with no hesitation. you gasp and grab onto her hair, spreading your legs. she smirks against your skin.

cleo sucks on your clit, then drags a long path along your folds, making you moan. “oh god, please..”

“please what? hm? use your words.” she grins, looking up at you from between your thighs. “please give me more..”

cleo moves her tongue faster along your clit. she reaches up and teases your nipple at the same time. you arch your back into her, moaning her name.

“again, say my name again, baby.” she talks you through it. “cleo..m’gonna cum..” you obey her words.

“cum. cum all over my tongue.” she doesn’t even get the full sentence out before your orgasm is crashing over you. your legs shake and pulse around her head, threatening to close.

she laps all of your mess up, then looks up at you. “so..prefer me over chris yet?” you look down at her nervously, “i shouldn’t feel this way, but yes..”

roxie speaks . . . well hello plot twist 🤭

© 𝓬𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓫𝓾𝓷𝓷𝔂 || do not steal please, ask before taking inspo.

taglist:: @milliesturns @mattswifeyyy @owensbabygirl @sturnsstrangerthings @chrisslvrr @bunnymoser @lvnaxstvrnsss @ilovesamgoldencoch @amandapanda2 @savmattsfavmattgirl @mamaagirlbehindu123 @lavande3 @cunty-matt

︶︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶︶

[hannahsturniolo]

IM SCREAMING WHY IS THIS SO ATTRACTIVE😍

[sturnlsstuff]

TEXTS WITH SKATER!CHRIS • part eleven

pairing: skater!chris x popular!reader

part one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven

ৎ୭~ৎ୭~ৎ୭

[chey4nne]

i want me a munch.

[rainyyy-weather]

He knew what he was doing😫🤤

[devotedlyteenagemusic]

he looks unreasonably good in this 🫩 can it be my turn next 😩

[mattsfavlesbian]

stuck with you | part six | matt sturniolo fic

pairing: ghost!reader x matt sturniolo

summary: matt gets a text from a mystery girl and you are not happy.

warnings: angst

authors note: im sorry there's no photos.. uh its kinda edited? Uh honestly im so frustrated every single one of my links in all my posts are broken i still linked them but they're all broken, so bare with me as i fix everything im just frustrated, this some bullshit rn but yeah uh enjoy and I'll post more fics soon hopefully

main masterlist | stuck with you masterlist

You heard Matt's phone buzz, he was still asleep, snoring softly, facing towards the window. You were nosy, you couldn't help it, you didn't get to do much when he slept. You walked over, looking down at his phone. A text from someone named Tara. You didn't know Tara, Matt never mentioned her. The text read, "Can't wait to see you tonight, it'll be fun!! ❤️"

You furrowed your brows, what the hell? Who the hell was this girl and why was she texting Matt. Matt should've mentioned this girl, especially since she seemed to be flirting with him. You wanted to scream at him, how dare he do this to you. No part of you was rational, but you blamed that on the fact that you were literally dead and all you had was Matt. This felt like a betrayal.

You just felt your anger bubble up, fists clenching but you couldn't do anything. You walked over to his desk, slamming your hands through it but nothing. You stared at the flashlights, putting your hands through it, slamming it repeatedly as the light flickered on and off repeatedly. Matt stirred slightly, hearing some sort of commotion. But then, your hand pushed the flashlight off the desk, tumbling to the floor with a thud, making matt shoot up.

"What the fuck!" Matt called out, looking at the flashlight. You used your foot to kick and stomp at the flashlight but the flashlight just kept flickering on and off. "What!? What's going on?" Matt asked as he stood up, going over to the flashlight, his hand went through a pocket of cold air, shivering and goosebumps rising on his skin. "You asshole!" You screamed at him, trying to push at him or make him go away but all he felt was cold air.

He didn't understand what was going on, or why he started to feel like his chest was tight and a lump was forming in his throat. "Stop it!" Matt yelled out. You froze, jaw clenched. He had no right to yell at you like that, at least you thought. You thought he was totally in the wrong, a liar, hiding stuff from you, hiding a girl from you.

There was a knock on the door before it opened, "Are you okay?" Chris asked as the door opened. Matt could still feel the lump in his throat, making him rub his neck. "Yeah- I- uh- I had a- I was sleep walking I think.." matt lied. Chris furrowed his brows, "You've never slept walked before.. matt are you okay? You've been acting weird.." chris said as he walked into the room.

You moved away from Matt, going to sit on his bed to watch them talk. Matt felt the cold air move away, and finally that lump in his throat went away and he took a deep breath. "I'm okay.. just haven't been sleeping.." Matt said softly. "You know.. if you need to go back to therapy that's alright.." Chris said, making Matt look at him. "I don't need therapy. I am okay." Matt said in a serious tone. Chris nodded, not fully believing him. "You've kinda been isolating.." Chris said.

Matt rolled his eyes, Chris was right but not at the same time. Matt wasn't isolating, he wasn't alone, he was with you. "I'm going out with Tara tonight, we're filming a video." Matt said. "Oh.." you said softly. Tara was a YouTube friend. Now you felt bad, but you still wish he'd told you. "Okay.. well.. have fun. We love you Matt." Chris said before leaving the room.

Matt turned around, rubbing his hands over his face. "I don't know what your problem is today.. but quit it. I'll leave a show on for you or something. Just whatever you did.. don't do that again." Matt said, speaking out into the open of his room but you knew he was talking to you. And you were gonna apologize when you could.

taglist: @ilovesturniolozz @vantezzn @shessogone @aliaratawitchtrial @whore4chris @toybfs @mattspawprints @softaurae @inkedsturnioloss @icravechratt @just-aliyah @vanillafrossting @courta13 @vantezzn @rainyyy-weather @harringtonsgirl19 @mollyjunebugg @hiddennovastructure

[babesturn]

𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗧𝗶𝗺𝗲.

©babesturn

rapper!chris x singer!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗌, 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌.

𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘂: 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗿!𝗰𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀 "𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗎𝗉" , 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋.

𝗽𝘀: 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀! ↓

(𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽!)

𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝖨𝗍!! 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝖺𝗅𝗅 ᰔ

You and Chris were something... but also weren't. It was hard to explain, hard to decipher. He had his own things to do—drugs, music—everything kept him busy, but he always found a way to come back.

It was difficult for you, for him, it affected both of you, but it had to be done, there was no other way to resolve it.

You swore to yourself that you would forget him, that you would move on, that it wouldn't be so difficult, but it was, quite difficult.

It wasn't your fault; he deserved to stay away; he was wrong. Even though it hurt him so much, and even more so you, the story had already ended there; it had to end there.

"There was no other way", you told yourself. There was another way, but your minds were so focused on him and vice versa that it was difficult to think of the perfect solution. In the end? No solution.

It was a Friday night, you had returned to Manhattan, and he stayed in his corner in Los Angeles. Home sweet home, and poor fairy tale over.

You were upset about it, you knew you were upset, but you carried on with your life anyway, you went back home, reunited with your cats, and were comfortably in the living room at one in the morning trying to think of some song lyrics.

Your mind was blank. He and nothing else was all you could think about; that laptop in front of you was practically nothing.

You sighed deeply, running a hand over your face, and turned to the black cat beside you. JJ (totally inspired by obx) has always been good company. You petted the cat when you received a message on your phone.

Who was it at this hour? was Tessa, she was your friend, she usually didn't stay up late , but supposedly she was with someone at a party, fair enough.

Oh, you read that right:

"did u see chris's new EP? ur name is on it."

what. the. actual. fuck.

That certainly wasn't a dream; you knew when you were dreaming. You stood still for a second, JJ even jumped out from beside you and you didn't notice.

You didn't even know if it was real. It was almost a challenge, was it a good idea to listen? After everything? Or not? Is it better to leave it alone? To leave the past behind? It's only been 2 months, but why so many questions?

After thinking about it for a while and asking JJ if he thought it was right (even though he didn't answer anyway), you decided to go ahead with me, and what did that mean? Listening to that song, for sure.

"kiss me as if it were

the last time

that we see each other, oh

I'm the one who pushed you away.

like that time

I swear I'll never go back."

Pause. By that point you were already blown away, the melody was good, it had some really interesting background vocals, but the lyrics were everything, the way he sang, slowly but in a way that was still understandable, brought back memories, many of them, along with a shiver.

Vice honestly thought about stopping for a moment, it was too much, and that was only the first and only chorus of the song.

"like a river

You flow into me.

as if it were a book

difficult to decipher

in LA cityIt's hard to love you.

where my work takes place

It's hard to love you."

The laptop shut down there, that was enough. After putting the device aside, you get up and go to the kitchen, calmly grab a glass of water, because the despair was inside.

After the glass of water, and after deciding to distract himself a bit by giving JJ some snacks Peace finally came, along with a deep sigh.

"thats insane"

It was indeed, but what was more than that? The number calling on your phone.

it was him.

yeah , was real.

You held your breath for a moment, staring at your phone screen, seriously considering whether you should answer.

The adrenaline was too strong, you answered. Silence settled for a few seconds before he finally spoke.

"y/n? you're here?"

His voice was a little hoarse, like it was when he woke up, and you actually loved that sound; it was good to hear him again. A sense of relief washed over you, but then you remembered to reply.

"yeah, why you called me?"

"to see if you listened to your song , that i made"

"i did"

A silence fell, as if he were even impressed that she actually had; knowing her, she wouldn't have done it. He cleared his throat, probably because he was smoking before calling, and continued.

"and... did ya like it?"

a pause

"It would be better with a few more vocals."

You only answered that because you knew that you were the one who did his vocals. It was indeed a low blow, but you couldn't miss the opportunity.

"do you want to come here and redo it then?"

bold of him , but made you more interested

"tempting, but not after two months."

"aw cmon"

Classic sturniolo move, that simple expression that made him seem like a child, but that always won her over.

"we can solve this again, right?"

"your music says that you wouldn't come back"

lets end heeere!! hope you guys like my "new" header cuz i just changed some little things but made everything more organized and pretty the way I liiike!! love yall babes!!!!!!

[writingdose]

“I read this fic you recommended. I read it because of you” is a love language

[vanillafrossting]

matt lets you wear his hat while you ride him ⋆.˚

▐ includes ; explicit content (mdni), p in v, bf!matt x super shy!reader, pet names, fluffy n silly into light-hearted degradation/embarrassing reader (#Yum), condom not mentioned but let's use our brains

it was almost unfair how sexy matt looked in his hat. all these little moments throughout the day kept sparking something deep within you ... but now, with him adjusting his lower half on the couch, legs sprawled, and his hair perfectly curling upward around the edges of the hat ..... you're limit had been met.

god, can he feel me staring? the movie you put on an hour ago is the absolute least of your worries right now. you hadn't even noticed your legs were now crossed, the heated flesh of your thighs pressing together for some kind of relief. you never used to be like this, at least in front of anyone... if only matt knew how much of a perverted little freak you actually were. blushing from merely holding hands, his shy sweetheart. you wondered what he would think if he saw you lying on your fluffy pink bed, tirelessly pressing your vibrator to your clit for hours upon hours, imagining taking him...each time, without fail, all the plushies on your bed fall to the floor, swept under from the tight grip you have on the sheets. the very thought of him seeing you like that, so undone and messy, made you queasy with embarrassment. you knew, at some point, he was going to see you in a more vulnerable light. when that was going to be was the question.

"baby?" matt rasps, making you jolt out the spiral you'd been caught in

"hm?" you hum at him, a low-effort attempt at acting oblivious

"somethin' wrong?" he places a hand on your thigh, squeezing it comfortingly, but it's not really helping the situation between your legs one bit. "'keep lookin' at me like you wanna say somethin'."

"oh-uh, no. i'm fine." you answer him cooly, pretending to follow along with the movie you haven't been watching.

he nods, leaving it be for awhile. until he looks down at you, absentmindedly squeezing your thighs and, it all makes sense. your neck is flushed, along with your cheeks. he also notes the gap of space you've created in the past 15 minutes. poor baby.

"i think you'd feel a lot better if we did somethin' about that."

"what?" confusion knits your brows together as you twist to face him.

he simply nods at your thighs where the pressed flesh is a brighter color.

quickly, you uncross your legs and fold them up to your chest. "matt, i'm fine. i told you." you glue your gaze back to the movie, but the credits start to roll. there goes that plan. you open your mouth to come up with an excuse before he turns off the tv.

"i don't know why you do that." he shakes his head, placing the remote down on the side table. "y'know you can talk to me, right? like, about anything."

why did he have to be so fucking sweet?

"matt..."

"i know, i know..." he puts his hands up, but he's not gonna surrender just yet. "can you at least tell me what you were gonna say? i swear, i'll drop it after. we don't have to talk ab-

"your hat." is all you can blurt out and immediately you want to jump out of the window next to him.

"my hat?" he lifts to inspect it, "what's wrong with my hat???"

"no, nothing's wrong with it!" you whine, trying not to laugh from the mix of embarrassment and genuine confusion splayed across your boyfriend's face.

matt laughs with you, settling the brim back down. "okay, you gotta give me somethin' here."

practically in one breath, "you look really good in the hat, like really good. and the thigh thing, fuck, i don't even know, matt. i don't know how to ask for, like, anything. you know that. i'm sorry. i don't know."

nice.

he can't help but smile at how cute you are, his poor girl. " 'kay, i'm gonna ask you somethin' and you can't freak out, yeah? you gotta answer me."

it's hesitant, but you nod.

"when it's just you in your bed, are you really asking yourself if you can use your vibrator?" he asks and you can tell he's stifling a laugh from his own out-of-pocket question.

yeah, that window is looking really good right about now.

"oh my fucking god, matt.??? you muffle through your hands that cover your burning face. "how do you-no, actually, no. spare me."

the laugh he's holding is getting harder and harder to suppress. he rubs your back sympathetically, but it's like trying to will a tortoise out of its shell. "don't be mad at me, baby. 'm sorry. i was lookin' for batteries the other night, you said they were in the drawer next to your bed....found somethin' else."

"i'm gonna kill myself." muffled again from your hands.

"i had a point—"

"please get there."

matt chuckles, gently peeling your hands away from your face. somehow you're even more red. biting the inside of your cheek as a distraction, you look at him, and he smiles.

"hey, there she is!" when you don't give him anything back but an anxious stare, he continues. "okay what i'm trying to say is, you can take control. when it's just you, you're in control. it doesn't have to be any different with me."

your features soften, but only slightly. he can tell you're still feeling lost by the way you aimlessly search his face, still gnawing on the gummy flesh of your inner cheek.

then an idea pops into his head.

"c'mere." he pats his sweatpant-clad lap.

you're not sure how you even muster the courage after such humiliation, yet you do.

"so....?"

saving you from what was surely more rambling, matt lightly pulls your chin to him and kisses you. it starts sweet until it's not. it's hungry, like he's beckoning you to meet him at the level he knows damn well you want to get to.

pulling away, he pants. "here," taking off his hat. "if you like it so much, you wear it." sliding the hat onto your head.

"no...matt..." you sigh, shaking your head

"shh, it's okay, sweetheart. we can share."

he kisses your parted lips to shut you up and you're certain you could cum right there on the spot. chasing that feeling, your hips start to rock against his. a hardening bulge beneath nudges your clit with each pass. by now, your panties have completely soaked through the flimsy fabric of your pajama shorts. your slick begins to create a wet spot against matt's sweats, causing you to pause your movements.

"shit, i-i didn't realize..." looking down between you two.

"guess i'll just have to take 'em off then."

with matt's sweats came the rest of his clothes and yours. except the hat, of course.

and what a sight that was...

little cries and mewls ripped out of you with each erratic bounce on top of matt, tits all in his face. he was impossibly deep and each time you came back down, you gripped his shoulders a little tighter.

"fuck, matt."

matt kept your hips steady, applying just enough pressure without hurting you. "look at my baby in control. takin' me like it's nothin'....knew you could."

embarrassed, you try to hide in his neck but matt doesn't let you.

"nuh-uh, you got it. you don't need me one bit, sweetheart."

proving that sentiment (more to yourself), you stop your bouncing and start grinding matt's length. pleasure seems to hit you both at the same time as matt squeezes his eyes shut and you let out the most pornographic of whines.

your skin meets his repeatedly with a sticky, wet noise. although you can barely keep yourself up, the pace quickens.

"yeah, that's it, baby- fuckkkk. yeah, yeah, yeah, oh-you're doin' it, see? throwin' away that fuckin' vibrator." he laughs in a labored pant as you grind faster. "yeah, you don't need it, do you?"

you're crying out, hands flying to his chest, indicating your release is near. "i-i-can't, matt-!"

he grips your ass, finally helping you. "y-you can, sweetheart. you-fuck, oh my god-! you are....c-can feeling you squeezin' me, yeah cum on my cock, oh fuck." seconds later, he's cumming just as hard.

after you've both come down from your highs, you two give a real attempt at watching a movie. in gentle strokes, matt's fingers dance on your thighs. they're unclamped and relaxed from giving him everything you had, everything you'd been holding back. you wonder if this is how you're always supposed to feel around him. it's nice.

taglist ૮꒰ “. . ꒱ა @cybersturn + comment if u wanna be added !

[twitchchrisera]

I will forever wonder why they looked at Chris like that…

[chrisbambi]

alr cus now you got me thinking…

[sneezytime]

“Jerk the end of it” CHRISTOPHER 😩😩

[puppymouf-deactivated20260111]

"reblog if mutuals can dm you!" my mutuals could kidnap me and i'd be like yay! yayayay yippee woo yeah!!

[imelliesgf]

please do not kidnap me bc i would not enjoy it

[almadellie]

please kidnap me i would enjoy it

[chrissbunny]

- insta texts with chris and kandi

contains: mentions of fucking, names (slut, baby), mentions of being hard, mentions of bending over, mentions of being “soaked”, let me know if i missed anything.

pairing: rich!chris x stripper!kandi

know before you read: lowercase intended. all texts are fake.

roxie speaks . . . so this is freaked out and also very bad but i didn’t want to write so here we go 🥹

© 𝓬𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓫𝓾𝓷𝓷𝔂 || do not steal please, ask before taking inspo.

taglist:: @milliesturns @mattswifeyyy @owensbabygirl @sturnsstrangerthings @chrisslvrr @bunnymoser @lvnaxstvrnsss @ilovesamgoldencoch @amandapanda2 @savmattsfavmattgirl @mamaagirlbehindu123 @lavande3 @cunty-matt

[jaspisnotonfire]

Pinterest will send you an fbi level message to tell you they took down a pin that you had no hand in making 😭😭😭

[sweetnsturns]

i'm what you need–c.s.

✧ enemies to lovers, academic rivals, unprotected sex, clit stimulation, handjob, oral sex (f receiving), breast play/nipple sucking, softdom!chris, car sex

✧ summary: you and chris sturniolo are rival journalism students competing for a prestigious fellowship, forced to work together. somewhere between all the arguments, deadlines, and parties, your academic hatred for each other starts to turn into something a lot more complicated.

✧ word count: 3.8k

if there was one thing everyone at your college could agree on, it was that you and chris sturniolo couldn't stand each other.

you're not sure when the rivalry started, only that it existed before you ever spoke to him. chris sturniolo, opinions editor, the guy who walked into editorial meetings like he was doing everyone a favor by showing up.

 you'd heard about him before you transferred, some prodigy freshman who'd already written for outside publications, who professors mentioned in hushed, impressed tones.

you'd expected someone intense, serious, maybe a little awkward. instead you got this: a guy who slouched in his chair and doodled in the margins of his notebook and argued with you about everything, not because he cared, but because he seemed genuinely baffled by your perspective. 

like you were speaking a language he couldn't understand.

"that angle's soft," he'd said about your first feature, not unkindly, just deadpan, in front of everyone. "you're protecting your subject."

"i'm being fair."

"fair is boring. fair doesn't get read."

you'd hated him instantly.

the morrison fellowship changed everything. one spot. national recognition. a direct line to the new york times and a twenty-thousand-dollar salary. professor hale announced it in october, his eyes sliding between you and chris.

"you two should collaborate," he kept saying. "you challenge each other."

what you did was avoid each other.

what you did was submit competing pitches and pretend not to notice when professors hale paired you together on research assignments, when he made you share sources, when he locked you in the small conference room with a single laptop and instructions not to leave until you'd outlined an investigation.

"this is stupid," you'd said that afternoon, arms crossed, standing as far from chris as the room allowed.

"agreed." he didn't look up from his phone. "i'll tell him you refused to participate. you can tell him i was uncooperative. we can both get out of it."

"that would require you having a spine."

now he looked up, finally, his expression unreadable. "i have a spine. i just don't see the point in performing for someone who's already decided i'm a dick."

"you're not a dick. you're just..." you searched for the word. "annoying."

"likewise."

you'd left separately. you told yourself it didn't matter. you told yourself you weren't thinking about the way he'd looked at you. tired, like you were exhausting to him. 

your friends noticed before you did. jess, mostly, who had a sense for these things, who watched you check your phone during drinks and asked who you were waiting for a text from.

"no one."

"you get that look whenever sturniolo posts something. like you're calculating how to ruin his next article."

"he's frustrating."

"mm." jess had smiled into her wine. "i give it until winter break. one of you is going to snap."

"snap and do what?"

"fuck. or admit you’re obsessed with eachother."

you'd thrown a napkin at her. but later, alone, you thought about it. thought about the way your stomach dropped when you saw his name on the byline list, the way you read his columns twice, once for content and once to catalog the things you disagreed with, the arguments you prepared in your head.

not obsession. competition. that was all.

november. the library at 11 pm, third floor empty except for the graduate students and the occasional security guard.

you were working on an article for media law and had thermos of coffee that had gone cold an hour ago, highlighter drying out in your hand, when you heard the elevator ding.

you didn't look up. didn't care who it was. until the footsteps stopped at the table across from yours, and you caught the scent of cedar and woody cologne, and you knew.

"this floor is usually empty," chris said. not a greeting. just a statement.

"that’s why i'm here."

he sat down. you didn't look up, but you heard him unzip his bag, pull out books, settle in. silence stretched, filled only by the turning of pages and the scratch of pens.

"you're doing the morrison application," he said eventually. not a question.

"obviously."

"me too."

"i know."

more silence. you kept your eyes on your case study, but you weren't reading anymore. you were hyperaware of him. his breathing, the way he tapped his pen when he was thinking, the fact that he was left handed and smudged ink across his palm as he wrote.

"can you stop?" you said, finally looking up.

he blinked at you, genuinely confused. "stop what?"

"existing so loudly."

"i'm sitting here."

"you're..." you gestured vaguely. "taking up space. being present. i can feel you thinking."

that smile flickered, the one you'd seen in meetings when someone said something unexpectedly dumb. "sorry. i'll try to think quieter."

"thank you."

he went back to his notes. you went back to yours. but something had shifted, and when you looked up twenty minutes later he was already looking at you, his expression unreadable.

"what?" you said, defensive.

"nothing. just..." he shook his head. "never mind."

"what?"

"you have ink on your face." he pointed to his own cheek. "there."

you wiped at it, missed. he sighed, reached across the table, his thumb brushing your cheekbone with unexpected gentleness. his hand was warm. you stopped breathing.

"got it," he said, pulling back, and something in his voice had changed, gotten rougher. he cleared his throat. "anyway. i should go. early class."

he packed up faster than necessary, practically fleeing, and you sat there touching your cheek where his thumb had been, your heart hammering. 

going to the party was a mistake. it was marcus's birthday, everyone from the paper was invited, the fellowship looming over you like a storm cloud.

you told yourself you wouldn't look for chris. told yourself you'd find jess, have one drink, and leave early.

but you saw him the moment you walked in, leaning against the wall by the kitchen, talking to someone from sports.

he was wearing a button-down you'd never seen, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and you looked away so fast you got dizzy.

why did he have to be hot? 

surely it would be easier if you were enemies with someone you weren’t attracted to. 

you found jess. found a drink. found a corner and tried to become invisible.

it didn't work. an hour in, you were by the bookshelf arguing with him about some documentary you'd both watched for research, your voices low and sharp, and you didn't know how you'd gotten here, didn't remember moving across the room.

"you're missing the point," he was saying, closer than he should be, his hand braced on the shelf beside your head. you were pointedly ignoring the fact that he was large enough to cage you in, your back pressed against the bookshelf.  "the director wasn't trying to be objective. that was the whole—"

"objectivity isn’t real anyway. you can't—"

"you keep saying that like it means something. like you've figured out something the rest of us haven't."

"maybe i have."

he laughed, short and surprised, and the sound did something to your chest. "you're impossible."

"you're insufferable."

"we've established this." he was looking at your mouth. you were sure you were imagining it. "why are we still talking?"

"because you can't admit i'm right."

"because you can't admit you're wrong."

you were both breathing hard, too close, and you could smell him again, that woody cologne, and you wanted to step back but you couldn't make your feet move.

then marcus was there with tequila and cards, pulling you both into the kitchen, and you sat on the counter next to chris because there was nowhere else, your thighs almost touching, your knee bouncing with nervous energy.

the game started. stupid questions at first, then worse ones.

when it got to chris, someone asked about his last hookup and he took a drink without answering, his jaw tight.

your stomach filled with something like jealousy. you ignored it and watched his throat swallow the drink, then looked away.

when it got to you, someone asked who in the newsroom you would get with, and you said no one, taking two drinks. you felt chris's eyes on the side of your face like a physical weight.

are we in highschool? what are these questions.

the questions kept coming. someone asked chris if he'd ever had a crush on someone in the newsroom, and the room went quiet, expectant.

"no," he said, too fast, and took a drink.

you didn't look at him. you couldn't.

later, much later, you were in the hallway trying to find jess, your ride, ready to leave. chris was there too, leaning against the wall, his expression distant, tired.

"you leaving?" he asked.

"trying to. jess isn't answering."

"she left with marcus. ten minutes ago."

your stomach dropped. "what?"

"they went to get food. i saw them go."

"she was supposed to drive me."

he pushed off the wall, ran a hand through his hair, disheveled, less neat than usual. "i'm heading north. i can drop you. if you want."

the alternative was a forty dollar uber you couldn't afford. "okay. yeah. thanks."

the car was cold, the heater blasting. you sat in the passenger seat with your arms crossed, staring out the window, the silence between you heavy and complicated. 

he drove carefully, almost too carefully. his hands were at ten and two like a sophomore in highschool with a learners permit.

"you don't have to do this," you said, after ten minutes of silence.

"do what?"

"be nice. i know you don't want to. i know you'd rather i walked."

he glanced at you, surprised, his eyebrows drawn together. "what?"

"it's fine. i know you don't—" you gestured vaguely. "this. whatever this is. i know you wish i wasn't in the program."

"that's not," he pulled over suddenly, into the empty parking lot behind the grocery store, the car idling, the lights off. "that's not true."

"it isn't?"

he turned to face you, and he looked different in the dark, stripped of the facade he wore in daylight. your eyes trailed down his face, from his blue eyes, to the freckles dotting his cheeks, to his nose, and finally to his lips. 

"i don't know what i think about you," he said, the words careful and slow. "you're frustrating. you make me question everything i write. you look at me like you're waiting for me to fail." he paused, swallowed. "but i don't wish you weren't here. i think i'd miss it. the arguing. the…" he laughed, helpless. "the whatever this is."

"you'd miss hating me?"

"i don't hate you." he said it simply, like it was obvious, like it had never been in question. "i never hated you. i just didn't know what else to do with... with how you make me feel. how you look at me sometimes, like you see something i'm hiding. and i don't even know what i'm hiding. i don't know anything. i'm twenty-one and i'm competing with you for the only thing i want and i can't figure out if i want to win or if i want y—"

he stopped.

you were staring at him, your heart hammering, and you didn't know who moved first, only that suddenly his hand was on your cheek and yours was on his chest, feeling his heart race, and you were kissing him, or he was kissing you, messy and uncoordinated, his mouth warm and tasting like the seltzer he'd been drinking all night.

he made a sound against your lips, surprised, almost wounded, and his other hand came up to grip your shoulder like he needed to hold on to something.

"wait," he breathed, pulling back, his forehead against yours. "wait, i don't, are you—"

"shut up," you whispered, and kissed him again, deeper, sliding across the center console into his lap, the steering wheel digging into your back, his hands finding your hips with uncertain, shaking fingers.

the car was suddenly too small, the air thick with the scent of cedar and your shared, ragged breaths.

the steering wheel dug painfully into your spine, but you didn't care, not with the hard line of his body pressed against yours, his hands fumbling at your hips like he wasn't sure he was allowed to touch.

you bit his lower lip, just enough to make him gasp, and his hips jerked up against yours, a hard pressure that made your own hips roll down in response. 

he made that whimpering sound again in the back of his throat, and then he was moving, his hands sliding from your hips to your thighs, gripping them with a strength that surprised you. "backseat," he managed, his voice wrecked. "can't… steering wheel."

it was an awkward, graceless scramble. you nearly got a foot stuck in the cup holder, he banged his elbow on the center console, and you both collapsed in a tangle of limbs in the cramped space, laughing breathlessly into the dark. 

the laughter died when he managed to kick a door shut, plunging the car into near-total darkness, illuminated only by the faint glow of a streetlight.

the silence was different now. heavy. expectant. you were facing him, and he was just looking at you. you couldn't make out the color of his eyes, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze, a physical touch that traced the line of your jaw, the curve of your throat.

"what?" you whispered, suddenly self-conscious.

"just…" his voice was a low rumble. "wondering if this is real."

you didn't answer with words. you reached for him, your hand finding the warm skin of his neck, your fingers tangling in the hair at his nape. you pulled him down to you, and this time the kiss was slow.

there was no rush, no frantic energy, just the slide of lips and tongues. he kissed like he wrote, with an intensity that left no room for misinterpretation, his tongue mapping yours, learning the shape of you.

his hand, which had been resting on your waist, began to move. it slid up, tracing the curve of your ribcage, his thumb stroking the side of your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt. 

you arched into his touch, a silent invitation, and he took it, his palm cupping it and his thumb brushing over your nipple. 

a soft sigh escaped you, and he swallowed the sound, kissing you harder.

his other hand joined the first, tugging at the hem of your shirt, and you broke the kiss just long enough to help him pull it over your head. 

the cool air made your skin burst into goosbumps, and then his hands were back on you, tracing the lines of your bra, his thumbs hooking under the straps.

"can i?" he murmured, his lips against your shoulder.

you just nodded, your breath catching as he deftly unclasped it, sliding it down your arms. 

he didn't immediately touch you again. he just looked, his gaze heavy enough to feel like he was. it should have been awkward, being half naked in the back of his car, but it wasn't.

"you're so…" he started, then seemed to lose the words, instead leaning down and pressing a kiss to the hollow of your throat, then lower, to the swell of your breast.

his mouth was hot, his tongue on your skin making you breathless. your hands reach out to tangle in his hair and he let out a small groan in response to the pressure.

 he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, and your back arched off the seat, a small whimper tearing from your throat. "chris," you gasped, your hands tightening around his hair, holding him to you.

he hummed against your skin, a low, pleased sound, and his free hand went down your side, over your hip, to the button of your jeans.

he paused there, his fingers resting on the metal, waiting. you lifted your hips to help him and he quickly undid the button and zipper. he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your jeans and underwear, tugging them down.

you lifted your hips to help him, and he pulled them off, tossing them into the front seat. then he settled between your thighs, his shoulders pushing them wider.

then he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your inner thigh, right where the skin was thinnest and most sensitive. he did it again on the other side, and you were trembling, an uncontrollable shudder running through your entire body.

"please," you whispered. you didn't even know what you were begging for. he seemed to know. 

he finally lowered his head, and the first touch of his tongue against you was so good it almost hurt. it was a slow, broad stroke, a taste, and then he was doing it again, his tongue going deeper, finding your clit and circling it with a precision that made your eyes roll back in your head.

he was learning you with his mouth, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as you began to squirm against him.

you were lost, your head thrown back, your hands fisted in his hair, your hips grinding against his face.

"chris," you gasped, "gonna come,"

he didn't stop. if anything, he went faster, sucking your clit into his mouth and giving it a gentle, rhythmic pressure with his tongue. you came with a sharp cry, your body convulsing.

when you finally came back to yourself, he was kissing his way back up your body, his movements slow and deliberate. he collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, and you turned to him, your limbs feeling weighed down.

you could feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against his jeans, and a surge of energy went through you.

your hand found his thigh, then slid up, palming him through the rough denim. he hissed, his hips bucking into your touch.

"you don't have to," he said, his voice strained.

"i want to," you replied, and it was the truest thing you'd ever said. you fumbled with his button and zipper, your fingers clumsy with desire.

he was hot and heavy in your hand, and you gave him an experimental stroke, from base to tip. a drop of pre-come beaded at the slit, and you swiped it away with your thumb, using it to help your hand.

you found a rhythm, slow and steady, and he was watching you, his eyes dark, his lips parted, his breath coming in harsh pants.

his hand came up to cover yours, not to stop you, but to guide you, to show you how he liked it, a little tighter, a little faster.

"like that," he groaned, his head falling back against the seat. "fuck, just like that."

you watched him, mesmerized by the way his face contorted with pleasure, the way his jaw went tight, the way his abs clenched with every stroke.

you could feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming more jumpy, his breathing more ragged.

he was letting out these sounds that made your stomach turn with desire. you wanted to see him fall apart. you wanted to be the one to do it.

"come for me, chris," you whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw. "i want to see it."

his breaths got harder and you could sense that he was getting closer, but he pulled your hand away suddenly. “no, no, can’t come yet…wanna be in you first”

his voice was ragged, thick with need. 

you didn't hesitate, just shifted, moving over him in the cramped backseat. it was awkward, your knees bumping against the door, but you didn't care. 

you positioned yourself over him, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance, still slick from his mouth.

you sank down slowly, taking him in inch by inch. the stretch was sweet, your head falling forward as you adjusted to the feeling of him filling you completely.

"fuck," he breathed, his hands flying to your hips, gripping you tight. "you feel... god, you feel perfect."

you started to move, a slow roll of your hips. it was a shallow movement at first, just feeling him inside you, the drag of him against your sensitive walls. his grip on your hips tightened, his thumbs pressing into your skin as he guided you, encouraging you to take him deeper.

you braced your hands on his shoulders, using the leverage to lift yourself up and then sink back down, taking him fully. 

you found a rhythm, a steady rise and fall. the car rocked with you, a gentle, rhythmic creak of suspension that was the only sound besides your harsh breathing and the wet slap of skin on skin.

"chris," you gasped, your movements becoming more frantic, chasing the friction, the building pressure. "god, don't stop."

he didn't. he thrust up to meet you, his hips snapping upwards, driving into you with a new urgency. the angle changed, hitting a spot deep inside you that made your nails dig into his shoulders.

"right there?" he grunted, his voice strained. he did it again, a hard, deliberate thrust that had you seeing white. "there?"

"yes, yes, right there," you babbled, your words dissolving into incoherent moans. 

he shifted one of his hands from your hip, sliding it between your bodies. his thumb found your clit, circling it with the same rhythm as his hips. 

"come on," he urged, his voice a low growl against your ear. "come for me again. let me feel it."

your orgasm ripped through you, your body convulsing. you collapsed against his chest, boneless and trembling, as he continued to thrust into you, chasing his own release.

he held you close, his arms wrapped around your back, his face buried in your neck. his thrusts grew hasty, losing their rhythm as he got closer. his breath in harsh, ragged pants against your skin.

"look at me," he commanded, his voice rough. you lifted your head, your vision blurry, and met his gaze in the dim light. his eyes were dark, wild with need, locked on yours. "fuck, what a pretty girl…my pretty girl, huh?” 

you whimper, feeling his hips stutter in you. with a final, guttural groan, he buried himself deep inside you, his body going rigid as he came. you could feel the hot flood of his release filling you. he held you there for a long moment, his body shuddering, his forehead resting against yours.

the only sound was your combined breathing, slowly returning to normal.

the air in the car was thick with the smell of sex and sweat, the windows fogged with condensation. he was still inside you, softening but not pulling away. you felt your body fill with exhaustion.

he kissed the top of your head gently. you stayed like that for a while, a tangled, sweaty mess in the backseat of his car, just breathing together in the darkness.

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