FRAT SWEETHEART ⋆˚࿔
╰┈➤ summary: Chris is one of the frats while you’re the ‘shy quiet’ girl , currently you’re at a frat party and you’re kind of nervous…
╰┈➤ authors note: sorry for the long break, im freshly back now!! i hope you enjoy this story and tysm for all the love!! ( Comment 🥳 if you wanna be in the taglist )
Being the frats’ sweetheart had become normal for you, late nights, seeing people almost lap each others faces off, getting high. All that shit. So when you started becoming Chris’ ‘thing’ that was no surprise.
Chris Sturniolo, king of the frat was no strange face. Having new girls at his side as often as he changed his clothes, which was a day to day thing of course. But you? You were almost constantly at his side, earning side-eyes and long stares of jealousy of girls who couldn’t keep to themselves. You happened to be a shy little thing, which confused you a lot. Why did Chris like you around so much? You weren’t at all like the others he’s hooked up with. Maybe he just liked you in be—sleeping with you!! Yeah…totally.
Anyhoo!
It was just a normal night, outfit on fleek. You were just looking stunning, as usual. (whoever is reading this your so pretty and i love you)
you were perched on Chris’ leg, sitting in his lap where people would usually find you. He had a beer in one hand, other on your hip. You were biting on your nails, a bad habit you find yourself doing a lot.
“The fuck you doin?’” Chris would hiss, eyeing you. Chris raised an eyebrow, that lazy smirk playing on his lips as he watched you chew your nails. The party raged around you—bass thumping, someone screaming shotgun, a girl laughing way too loud.
He didn’t like it.
Not when you were doing it.
With one swift move, he plucked your hand from your mouth and brought it to his lips instead—pressing a soft kiss to each fingertip like some stupid romantic shit no frat king should be caught dead doing.
“Quit,” he muttered against your skin.p
And yeah… maybe you were. Chris tilted his head, studying your face like you were a puzzle he really wanted to solve. The music pulsed, the room spun with bodies grinding and drinks sloshing—but right now? It was just you two.
He squeezed your hip again—gentle this time—and leaned in close, his warm breath ghosting over your ear.
“You ain’t scared of me… are ya?” he whispered. Voice low. Almost tender.
Then immediately ruined it by adding: “‘Cause if someone’s tryin’ to scare my girl? They’re dead.”
A beat passed.
Then Matt from across the room yelled something about shots and Chris flipped him off without looking away from you. Chris suddenly grinned—wide, crooked, that dangerous kind of smile that made girls trip over their own feet.
Before you could even react, he kissed you.
Hard.
One hand slid up to cup your jaw while the other stayed firm on your hip like he was claiming territory. His lips were warm from beer and tasted faintly sweet—probably from whatever fruity shit someone dared him to drink earlier.
The room blurred. The noise faded. For a second? It was just his mouth on yours and the stupid flutter in your chest you couldn’t control no matter how hard you tried.
When he finally pulled back an inch—just enough to breathe—he smirked again.
“Better,” he said simply… like kissing away anxiety was totally normal frat behavior (it wasn’t). Chris didn’t give you time to recover—nope.
The second your lips parted from his, he was already leaning back in, capturing them again. This kiss softer though. Slower. Less claiming and more… something else.
Something that made your stomach flip like a damn gymnast.
His thumb brushed your cheekbone as he kissed you—tender in a way that didn’t match the loud frat king vibe at all—and for once? No one was watching or whispering about it.
Maybe because everyone knew better than to mess with Chris when he had you on his lap like this: quiet, blushing, completely under his spell without even trying hard at all…
He broke the kiss only to rest his forehead against yours—breath mingling—and whispered:
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty.” Chris exhaled softly, his nose still brushing yours like he couldn’t bring himself to pull away completely.
The music had gotten quieter—someone must’ve turned the volume down—or maybe it just felt quieter because everything else seemed so loud and chaotic compared to this tiny bubble you two were in.
He studied your eyes. Really looked at them—the way they widened a little when he said that sweet shit, how your lips stayed slightly parted from kissing him.
And damn… if that didn’t make something twist inside his chest. Something warm and weirdly unfamiliar.
Without thinking (because Chris never thought too hard), he pressed another kiss—this time on the tip of your nose—then one on each cheekbone, then finally back to your lips again: soft pecks like rain drops falling slow…
No rush. No audience needed. Just him loving on you right there in front of God and everybody who gave zero fucks anyway.
TIME SKIP.
The party had thinned out.
Beer cans littered the floor, a few couples were passed out on couches or tangled together on the rug. The music was off now—just ambient noise from someone’s forgotten speaker playing lo-fi beats.
Chris was still awake though—of course he was. Dude never slept at parties unless drunk.
But right now? He wasn’t drunk. Just… content.
You both had ended up curled together in his oversized leather armchair by the fireplace—the only source of light left besides dim string lights above you. A blanket draped over your legs (courtesy of Chris after noticing you shivered).
He had one arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest while absently tracing circles on your shoulder with his thumb.
Every so often, he’d kiss the top of your head like it was second nature to him by now—like loving on you wasn't even a choice anymore; it just happened. The quiet hum of the house settled around you both—no laughter, no yelling, just the soft crackle of the fire and that slow beat from the speaker.
Chris hadn’t said much in a while. Not his usual self—normally he’d be cracking jokes or making some stupid comment about someone passed out face-down on carpet.
But right now? He was quiet. Peaceful even.
His chin rested lightly on top of your head as he breathed you in—the scent of your shampoo mixed with faint traces of his cologne (which somehow always ended up transferring to you).
Then… slowly… carefully…
He turned slightly and pressed a kiss right into your hairline—a soft one this time—not teasing or playful like earlier—but something deeper. Something tender and private that only existed when it was just him holding you.
No audience. No show. Just love wrapped in silence under warm light
And that… was more than enough. ᢉ𐭩
SOPH’S TIDBITS : again, sorry for this long break, i had lots of exams and concerts but now im FULLY back and except cute summer stories !!!! hope you enjoyed ᢉ𐭩
TAGLIST — @vaesturn @whore4chris @slutforbonesandall @summerupdup-deactivated20260530 @courta13 @urfaveprettypsycho @valentinasturn @breesturns















