everyone be nice and say nice things to paige for giving us a fic even tho she is sick!
Aw ily oh my gosh !! And I had to…I was crushed after reading @immaqulate most recent Sturniolo angst fic (which was absolutely written beautifully). But I needed a pick-me-up & figured I could finish the day being productive lol 😭💗
♱ ⸝⸝ Friend!chris x Friend!reader
♱ content warnings ⸝⸝ smut ; unprotected pnv ; choking ; mirror usage ; hair pulling ; spanking ; and more!
♱ word count ⸝⸝ 1.3k
♱ keep in mind ⸝⸝ english isn’t my first language!
♱ summary ⸝⸝ You re-tell the events of chris seeing you without lashes to your bestie (with flashbacks)
“You know how Saturdays are my reset days, right?” you say, sitting cross-legged on Addie’s bed, your best friend, absently peeling the backing off a lash strip you’re not even going to put on.
Addie hums. “The sacred ritual.”
“Exactly. Lashes off. Face bare. No witnesses.”
You pause, then laugh quietly. “Except apparently Chris.”
Addie’s head snaps toward you. “Chris as in spare key Chris?”
You nod. “Chris as in spare key Chris.”
You lean back against the headboard, eyes drifting somewhere far away, the way they do when you’re replaying something you didn’t realize mattered until it already did.
“So it was a Saturday. I had one earbud in, music playing, just… vibing. I was in my room reorganizing my vanity, and I realized I was out of cotton pads. No big deal. I go to grab more from the hall closet.”
You gesture vaguely, like you can still see it.
“And I’m wearing those shorts,” you say. “The ones that are basically illegal. And that cropped shirt I only wear when I don’t plan on being perceived by another human being.”
Addie grins. “Those shorts.”
“Those shorts,” you confirm. “And I bend down to grab the cotton pads, and I have no idea, no idea at all, that Chris unlocks my door right then.”
Your voice softens.
“He walks in, sets the takeout down, and just… stops.”
Addie raises an eyebrow. “Stops?”
“Stops,” you repeat. “Not creepy. Not gross. Just… quiet. Like he walked into something he wasn’t supposed to see but didn’t want to ruin.”
You swallow.
“I didn’t notice. I had my earbud in. I grabbed what I needed, straightened up, and walked back to my room like nothing happened.”
-
You pad down the hallway without thinking, bare legs, oversized hoodie abandoned somewhere behind you. You bend down in the storage closet, reaching for the extra pack you know you bought weeks ago and promptly forgot about.
In the kitchen, Chris unlocks your door like he’s done it a hundred times before.
He steps inside quietly, already familiar with the place. Takeout in one hand, phone in the other. He doesn’t call your name right away. Just slips his shoes off, heads toward the counter.
And then he sees you.
Not your face yet. Just the shape of you, framed in a way you never meant to show anyone. The way your shorts sit on your hips. The natural curve of you as you lean forward, completely unguarded.
He stops.
Not because it’s inappropriate. Not because it’s shocking.
Because it’s… you.
Relaxed. Real. Existing without trying to be anything else.
His throat tightens. He looks away after a second, like the moment belongs to you and he’s just accidentally walked into it. But the image stays. Quiet. Warm. Familiar in a way that scares him a little.
You straighten up, cotton pads in hand, still humming softly to whatever’s playing in your ear. You don’t hear him. You don’t sense him.
-
Addie’s smile fades just a little. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” you say softly. “Apparently he watched me walk away.”
You pick at the edge of the lash strip.
“When I finally came back out, I was scrolling on my phone, totally relaxed, and I look up… and he’s just standing there in my kitchen.”
-
You move back toward your room, passing the kitchen doorway without looking in.
Chris exhales slowly.
He sets the takeout down, leans back against the counter, and waits.
A minute passes. Maybe two.
You come back out, this time distracted, scrolling on your phone as you walk. You lift your head mid-step and freeze.
Chris is standing in your kitchen.
Your stomach drops.
-
Your stomach still flips, even now.
“I froze. My heart actually dropped. I immediately went, ‘Oh my god, how long have you been here?’”
“And?” Addie asks.
“And he smiled,” you say. “Like that calm, gentle smile he does. And he goes, ‘Not long.’”
You exhale.
-
He smiles, small and careful. “Not long.”
You glance down at yourself. Bare face. Short shorts. The shirt you’d never wear if you knew someone was coming over.
“I completely forgot you were coming today,” you say, mortified but laughing a little. “This is… not how I usually look.”
Chris’s eyes soften.
-
“I started apologizing. Like full panic mode. I was like, ‘I don’t usually look like this, I swear.’ And he just… looked at me. Not checking me out. Not scanning. Just looking.”
Your voice lowers.
“And he said I looked comfortable. Like I was at home.”
-
“I know,” he says. Then, after a beat, “That’s kind of why it’s nice.”
You pause.
“What do you mean?”
He shrugs, pushing off the counter, giving you space even as he steps closer. “You look comfortable. Like you’re at home.”
You swallow.
“I don’t have my lashes on,” you say quietly, like it’s a confession.
“I noticed,” he replies gently.
Your heart skips, but his tone isn’t teasing. It’s warm. Steady.
“And?” you ask.
“And you’re still you,” he says. “Actually… you’re even more you.”
The room feels smaller after that. Not crowded. Just closer.
-
Addie presses her lips together. “That’s dangerous.”
“I told him I didn’t have my lashes on,” you say, quieter now. “Like that was the real problem.”
“And what did he say?” Addie asks, already knowing it’s going to hurt.
You smile faintly. “He said he noticed. And that I was still me. Actually… more me.”
The room is quiet.
“I didn’t put my lashes back on that day,” you admit. “We just ate lunch and watched a movie like normal. But everything felt… closer. Like he saw something he wasn’t supposed to, and instead of ruining it, he protected it.”
Addie watches you carefully. “You’re still thinking about it.”
You nod. Falling back into thought as Addie goes back to her makeup. Thinking about the part you refuse to tell her about…
-
This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go…
"Look at yourself," He grunted, hand twisted into your hair as he hold you up. "Look at how well you take this cock"
He had you bent over on your bed in front of the huge mirror you impulsively bought. His hand wrapped tightly through your hair, holding your head up as he pounds restlessly into you.
You see him staring at you faintly. Your eyes blurred from the collection of tears beginning to pool in your eyes from the sensation.
He really meant it when he said you look good without lashes…
"Don't close your eyes, look at me," He grunted, sending a hand to smack your ass hard, a sting sending more tears welling at the corners of your eyes. You obey, looking up at him in the mirror. "Good girl." He groaned, using the same hand to massage the freshly red spot of skin.
He moved the hand from your hair to your throat, pulling you higher, your upper back now flushed against his chest. "God, you're so pretty" He whispered into your ear, his hand finding its way to your tit.
"Look at yourself, so dumb for this dick, huh baby?"
Your hand finds his wrist, holding into it as his finger tips pressed firm into the sides of your throat. God, he was good at this.. How had you two not done this sooner.
You feel your peak closing around him, tightening. He felt it too, the hand on your tit traveling down to the sensitive bundle of nerve, rubbing small circles. "F-fuck chris.." You whimper, your thighs struggling to hold you up. If it weren't for the grip he has in your neck, you'd have fallen over by now.
"Cmon, pretty.. show me how good im making you feel.." He coos, that sends you overboard. Its like he read your mind, because the second he feels you release he's quick to follow your lead.
His warmth quickly fills you, spreading through your whole body. He lets you go gently, letting you collapse onto the bed beneath you.
He helps you put your clothes back on, apologizing for if he went too aggressively.
"Don't apologize..that was the best confidence booster i coulda ever asked for.." You laugh breathlessly.
IM INNA FLOW STATE RNNNN
tags ; @pepsipoet (Thought you would like this one too!)
matt:
u busy
matt:
come over. i got a new strain. trust.
You don’t even bother pretending you’re unsure. You’re already pulling on a hoodie, keys in hand, heart doing that stupid little skip it only does for him.
His place is quiet when you get there, lights low, the kind of yellow glow that makes everything feel slower. The TV is on but muted. Some old skate video looping in the background. The air already smells like weed and laundry detergent.
Matt’s on the couch, sprawled like he belongs there permanently. Hoodie, sweats, hair a mess. He looks up when you step in and grins like he knew you’d come.
“Hey,” he says, dragging the word out.
“Hey,” you echo, softer than you mean to.
You sit next to him, close enough that your knees touch. Not touching would feel louder. He hands you the bowl, fingers brushing yours just barely, like it’s an accident neither of you correct.
“This one’s crazy,” he says. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
You inhale. Cough. He laughs and rubs your back without thinking about it, palm warm through your hoodie. Neither of you moves away.
Time stretches. Smoke curls toward the ceiling. Conversation drifts from nothing to everything to nothing again. Inside jokes. Half-finished thoughts. The kind of comfort that shouldn’t exist between two people who “aren’t anything.”
You catch him looking at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. When you look back, he doesn’t look away.
“Why’re you staring?” you ask.
He shrugs, lips twitching. “Can’t I look?”
The couch feels smaller. Or maybe you’re just leaning in without realizing it. His arm slides behind you, casual, but his thumb traces slow, absent-minded circles on your shoulder. It sends a quiet spark straight down your spine.
You tilt your head toward him. He smells like smoke and mint and something that’s just him.
“This is kinda dangerous,” you murmur.
He smiles, low and knowing. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
For a second, neither of you moves. The tension hums, thick and electric, like the air right before a storm. His hand stills. Your breath catches. He leans in, slow enough that you could stop him.
You don’t.
Your gaze lingers on his lips, as his with yours. The moment begging to not be ruined.
He leans in further, forehead resting on yours before his lips locked with yours. The kiss was gentle, indecisive. His hands stopped hesitating, finding your lower back and laying you back on the couch, him rested between your legs.
The kiss turned hungry, his hand cupping your face.
Your arms wrapped around his neck, finger tugging at the hood of his hoodie.
He broke the kiss only to take his hoodie off, your fingertips tracing the muscles in his back. His lips trailed down your jaw, leaving marks the further he went.
"Lift your arms for me.." He spoke, barely above a whisper. You obey, lifting your back and arms so he can take off your top. Good thing you decided to not wear a bra today.
He picked up where he left off, placing soft kisses down your chest and stopping at your your breasts.
His tongue circled your nipple, you arched into his touch. His arms wrapped around your waist, helping you. Your hands found their way to his hair, gripping at the lose curls.
He sucked at the plumpness, making sure to leave marks. He had always wanted you like this. Always texting you late at night to come over and smoke was the only way he knew to get you to be alone with him.
You had a connection with each other, always apparent. The subtle touched, lingering glances, the shared jokes.
He vowed himself to you... even if you didn't know. He didn't bother entertaining other women because he knew all along it was you who he wanted to be with.
You felt the same.
He made his way down to your thighs, the air locked itself away in your lungs. His teeth nipped at the soft skin.
A soft sound escaped your lips as his fingers absently trailed up the line of your shorts. The short shorts you wore tonight. The ones he told you you looked good in not too long ago. It
His fingers hooked the hem, tugging them down your legs, revealing your shimmering slick.
"Damn, i haven't even done anything yet.." He mocked, eyeing the site. You sighed, rolling your eyes and bucking your hips needly.
He smirked and placed kissed to your folds before flattening his tongue against your heat, the sensation hitting you harder than usual. You tossed your head back, eyes fluttering shut.
His fingers pressed into your thighs, holding them open as his tongue lapped up your juices, your hand twisted in his hair. Your other hand reaching up to cover your mouth, unaware if anyone else was home. I mean why? Girl you're literally in his living room. If someone was home you would be in his room. get a grip.
His hand gently reaches for yours, bringing it back down. "Don't worry, no ones here, ma." Exactly what he said. Gosh.
"F-fuck.." You whimper, looking down at him. His half-lidded eyes meeting you there. Fuck, that did something for you. You could see the high in his eyes.
He smirked.
Your breath hitched as he slowly slid a finger into you. He pumped it in and out of you slowly, feeling as you tighten just around his one finger. Before you could say anything, he hooked it, hitting that one spot just right.
He watched as you threw you head back once more, your pink lips parting slightly, letting out the prettiest sounds he's ever heard.
"You like that, huh?" He asked, pulling away from you completely, leaving you exposed to the cold air. You whimper slightly at the sudden sensation loss, bucking your hips absently.
"Be patient f'me," He breathed, allowing himself to take off his sweatpants and line himself up with your entrance. "Fuck.. wait."
He leaned back, rummaging through his pants pockets to find his wallet and pulled out a rubber.
he ripped it open with his teeth, sliding it on with ease.
Whole time, you were eyeing his size.. you definitely underestimated him.
"Is this okay?" He asked, scanning your features for an answer. "Yes.." You answered breathlessly.
He nodded and lightly pushed his tip in, watching your reacting as he pushed more of himself into you unhurried.
You bit your bottom lip, brows furrowed up. He moved his hand from your hip to your waist, finding his pace. He didn't feel rushed.. You could tell he has been waiting for you.. to have you like this. It only turned you on more, knowing how badly he's been craving you.
Your pulse was racing, your body didn't even try to fight him, fight the feelings. You melted into him completely. Your bodies fit together too perfectly.
His hand crept up to wrap his fingers around your throat, applying gentle pressure to the sides.
His thrusts began to speed up, creating pornographic noises between you two.
your brain went numb, no thoughts, no emotions, just pure pleasure. Your hand found his wrists, slightly clawing at the tattooed skin.
"F-faster.. please" you whisper, desperate for more friction. He obliged, you felt your chest rise sharply at the pace change. he swallowed like he was steadying himself.
"Hey, look at me, mama" he spoke.
"Open your mouth f'me"
You knew what was about to happen, and you let it..
You opened your mouth, tongue sticking out slightly. His spit fell from his mouth slowly, falling into yours. You closed your mouth, the warmth lingering on your tongue. You swallow it.
"Good fucking girl.." He spoke languidly, breathing heavy. He bit his bottom lip as he looked down at the mess being created between him and you.
You felt your climax approaching quickly, your hips rolling against his lazily, attempting to get all the friction you can out of it. The euphoria from the slight lack of blood flow to your brain was rapidly undoing you. He feels it, his hand slid between you two, rubbing tight circles over your clit.
"oh my god... im gunna c-cum"
music to his ears.
He picked up his pace both with his trusts and his thumb.
"Cum for me, you can do it pretty."
And you did. Your back arched and your legs tightened around his hips. He followed your lead, releasing himself into the rubber around his length.
He removed his hand from your neck, leaning down to place soft hickeys along your collar.
He pulled himself out of you, removing the used rubber and throwing it into a close rubbage bin.
"I'll clean you up, okay? Stay here for me." He spoke, pulling his sweatpants back up to rest perfectly along his v-line.
He came back with a warm cloth, cleaning you up before helping you put your soft shorts back on. You sat up, he sparked up another joint.
He lounged back on the couch, legs spread, one arm slung across the back like he owned the room. She curled in beside him, knees tucked and angled over his thigh, her head fitting easily into the bend of his arm as they lazily passed the blunt between them.
HehehehebfbskjvbSKDJ UGH i love stoner matt
Gif creds! ; @vxnitra
the party had already peaked by the time chris found her.
it was one of those houses where the walls hummed, bass leaking into the floorboards, laughter ricocheting down hallways that smelled like sweat and cheap cologne. red cups everywhere. bodies everywhere. the air felt thick, like it had weight.
he spotted you by the kitchen island, leaning your hip against the counter like gravity had suddenly become optional. your laugh carried over the music, loud and unfiltered, a little too sharp around the edges. you was drunk-drunk. not falling over, but loose in that dangerous way where words slipped free before thoughts could catch them.
“hey,” he said, sliding in next to you.
you turned, eyes lighting up immediately. “chriiiis.”
there it was. the elongated version of his name that only came out when you'd had too much. you reached for him without thinking, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like it was instinct.
“you good?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“mhm,” you nodded, then laughed again like that settled it. “i missed you.”
he smiled despite himself. “i saw you yesterday.”
“doesn’t count.”
you leaned closer, your shoulder bumping into his chest. he steadied you automatically, hand hovering at your waist without really touching. the smell of alcohol clung to you, mixed with your perfume. something sweet. something familiar.
he’d only had a couple drinks. enough to take the edge off, not enough to blur lines. which meant he noticed everything. the way your pupils were blown wide. the way your balance kept drifting toward him like a magnet.
“you wanna get out of here?” he asked. “i can take you home.”
you frowned, dramatic. “but it’s fun.”
“you’ve been saying that for two hours.”
you blinked. “have i?”
“yeah.”
you considered this, then shrugged. “okay. but only if you promise not to judge me tomorrow.”
he snorted. “i judge you every day.”
you grinned. “true best friend behavior.”
that word settled between them, familiar and heavy. best friend. it had always been that. always easy. always safe.
he grabbed your jacket, helped you into it, his hands careful, respectful. you swayed a little as you made your way outside, the cold air sobering you just enough to make you shiver.
in the car, you turned the music up too loud, sang off-key, leaned your head against the window and watched streetlights smear into gold lines. he kept glancing over, making sure you were okay, hand ready on the wheel.
“you’re quiet,” you said suddenly.
“am i?”
“yeah. you get quiet when you’re thinking.”
he shrugged. “maybe i’m just tired.”
“liar.”
you smiled at him, soft this time. less chaotic. your eyelids fluttered, then drooped.
by the time they pulled up to your place, you were half-asleep.
he killed the engine and turned to you. “hey. we’re here.”
you stirred, confused, then smiled again when you recognized where you were. “you always take such good care of me.”
something in your tone made his chest tighten.
“c’mon,” he said gently, getting out and walking around to your side. he offered his arm. you took it, leaning into him as you walked up to your door.
inside, the house was quiet. dim. your place always felt like you. warm lighting. soft blankets. little pieces of you everywhere.
you fumbled with your keys, laughing at yourself. “wow. embarrassing.”
“give me that,” he said, taking them from you, unlocking the door with ease. he’d done it a hundred times.
you stood there for a moment after stepping inside. shoes still on. coats half-off. the night lingering in the air.
you looked up at him.
too close.
your eyes searched his face, unfocused but intense. he felt the shift before it happened, that subtle change in pressure, like the atmosphere dropping.
“you’re really pretty,” you said, earnest and unguarded.
he laughed, awkward. “you’re drunk.”
“doesn’t make it wrong.”
you swayed toward him. he steadied you again, hands finally landing at your waist this time. your fingers slid up his chest, slow, exploratory, like you was testing something you'd never noticed before.
“hey,” he said softly. “easy.”
you didn’t listen.
you kissed him.
it wasn’t graceful. it wasn’t planned. it was warm and messy and sincere. your lips pressed to his with all the reckless confidence alcohol gave you. for a split second, his brain short-circuited.
and he didn’t pull away.
his body reacted before his morals did. before the best friend label. before the years of unspoken rules. his hands tightened at your waist, grounding you. grounding himself. the kiss deepened just a fraction, enough to make his stomach drop.
then reality crashed back in.
he broke away, breath uneven. “hey. hey.”
you blinked, confusion flashing across your face. “did i do something wrong?”
“no,” he said immediately. “no, you didn’t. i just— you’re drunk.”
your face fell, mortified. “oh my god.”
“hey,” he said again, gentler. “it’s okay. really.”
you stepped back, arms wrapping around yourself. “i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t have—”
he cut you off. “stop. it’s fine. i promise.”
he could still feel your lips. the warmth of them. the way it hadn’t felt wrong. which was the problem.
“let’s get you to bed,” he said, steering things somewhere safe.
you nodded, avoiding his eyes.
he helped you out of your jacket, guided you down the hall. your room was dim, moonlight spilling across the bed. he sat you down, knelt to pull your shoes off, movements practiced and careful.
you watched him, quieter now. vulnerable.
he tucked you under the blankets, pulled them up to your chin. you looked small like that. precious.
“you good?” he asked.
you nodded. “thank you for not being mad.”
he smiled softly. “never.”
he turned off the light, lingered in the doorway for a moment longer than necessary, then left.
the next morning was hell.
you woke up with a pounding headache and a slow, creeping dread that settled in your chest the second your memories aligned.
the party. the car. the door.
the kiss.
you groaned, burying your face in your pillow. humiliation burned hot and sharp. god. you'd kissed your best friend. drunk. uninvited. you replayed it over and over, cringing harder each time.
by noon, you couldn’t stand it anymore.
you texted him.
hey. can you come over later? i owe you an apology.
his reply came fast.
yeah. don’t stress about it.
that didn’t help.
when he showed up that evening, he was exactly the same. easy smile. relaxed posture. no weirdness. which somehow made it worse.
“hey,” he said, stepping inside.
“hey,” you echoed, voice tight.
you ended up in your room, sitting on your bed like you always did. you fidgeted with the blanket, heart pounding.
“i’m really sorry,” you blurted. “about last night. i was drunk and stupid and i crossed a line and—”
“hey,” he interrupted. “stop.”
you looked up, bracing yourself.
“you didn’t ruin anything,” he said calmly. “i’m not upset. i promise.”
you searched his face for signs of discomfort. didn’t find any.
“really?”
“really.”
you exhaled, relief mixing with something else you didn’t want to name.
you put a movie on. some dumb rom-com neither of you paid attention to. you lay back, shoulders touching, the familiar comfort settling in.
except it wasn’t entirely familiar anymore.
the air felt charged. every small movement felt amplified. his arm brushed yours. your breath hitched.
halfway through the movie, he shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you.
“you know,” he said casually, “if you ever wanted to kiss me again… you wouldn’t need to be drunk.”
your heart slammed into your ribs.
you turned to him, eyes wide. “what?”
he smiled, slow and unapologetic. “just saying.”
heat flooded her face. “are you serious?”
“very.”
the room felt smaller. quieter. the movie forgotten.
“so,” you whispered, barely daring to believe it, “you’d be okay with it?”
he leaned in just a little. “i’d be more than okay.”
that was all it took.
you closed the distance, kissing him again. this time sober. deliberate. electric.
and that’s where everything finally broke open.
your lips pressed to his again, soft at first, then harder, like you were trying to make up for all the hesitation of the night before.
his hand slid down your back, fingers grazing your sides, tracing patterns that made you shiver before you even realized why.
he shifted slightly beneath you, his weight grounding you, and then, almost instinctively, he moved to sit up fully.
you blinked at the motion, breath catching. he lifted you with ease, letting you settle against his lap.
your knees rested on either side of him, your body flush against his.
the kiss deepened the second you were there, lips molding together with a heat that made the room feel smaller.
you pressed closer without thinking, your hands threading into his hair, tugging gently. he groaned low in his throat, tilting his head to give you better access.
his hands moved from your back to your ass, gripping lightly at first, testing the weight of your hips against him.
you responded instantly, rocking into him almost unconsciously, small, deliberate movements that drew a sharp inhale from his chest.
he pulled you closer, feeling the curve of you against him, and you matched him. his lips never left your, and you felt the deliberate weight of his hands moving.
your head dropped to the crook of his neck for a second, just to catch your breath, and he didn’t stop you, couldn’t stop you.
you ground slightly into him, and he let out a soft, ragged sound, fingers tightening just enough to make you ache for more.
the kiss slowed, but the tension didn’t fade. you could feel the teasing weight of him against you, the heat radiating from his body, possessive pressure of his hands.
every shift, every soft, rolling movement of your hips only encouraged him, but he held back, letting the moment stretch, letting the anticipation coil tighter between you.
your lips ghosted along his jaw for a second before returning to his, slow and demanding, and he let out a low hum, breathless and teasing, keeping you pressed to him as though he could imprint you there forever.
you shivered at the contact, and he mirrored it, small movements perfectly in sync. you tilted your hips, a little more insistently this time, and he responded without hesitation, hands sliding just slightly more, thumbs brushing along your curves, coaxing you closer.
you could feel the burn growing between your legs, the ache.
his breath hitched when you reached down to palm the stiffness in his sweatpants, earning a sigh against the nape of your neck.
he moves his hands up the back of your shirt, undoing the clasp of your bra. he slips the shirt off from over your head, leaving your chest bare.
he taps the underside of your thigh, signaling you to lift up. he slides his pants and boxers down to his mid thigh.
he looks up at you, noticing the way you bit down on your bottom lip just a bit more than usual, the light pink that has flushed your cheeks.
"are you sure you want this?.." he whispered, taking himself into his hand.
you nod, "yes.." answering breathlessly.
he lined himself up with you, your jaw falling slack as he gathered your slick on his tip.
you gasp, lowly, your head falling to rest on his shoulder as he slowly presses your hips down onto his length. he lets out a groan when you already clench around him.
"you're okay, baby.." he spoke, hands resting on cusp between your thigh and your ass, guiding you to set your own rhythm.
once he's flushed to the hilt, you throw your head back. he takes advantage, nestling his lips between your collar and neck, brushing over your pulse points, teeth grazing your shoulder.
he begins to move you up and down, slowly. your thighs clenched with each bounce, your arms clamoring around his bicep for purchase. you whisper his name, soft moans escape your lips.
"you're doing good, ma.. keep going" he whispered, face still buried in your neck, squeezing the plump flash of your ass.
his grip firmed, your bounces became more weak.
he picked his hips up, adjusting your weight on his. when your hips start to falter, rutting and swirling instead of bouncing, he tapped your leg again, allowing you to lift up just enough for him to have room to take over.
his thrusts started slow, picking up pace only when he saw that you liked it.
the sounds of your moans hidden behind the sound of his hips hitting yours. he watched the scene between you two, skin sticky with warmth, the way you took him like you were made for him.
"fuck.." he mumbled, breath hot against your neck before stopping.
a soft whimper left you, aching for more, only making him chuckle. "its ok, just flip over f'me.. on your knees."
you do as your told, face in the pillow, ass up.
"god, you're gorgeous.." he whisper, almost like he was saying it to himself.
he lines himself up with your entrance, snaking through your folds before pushing himself in. a euphoric moan leaves your lips, muffled by the pillow.
your brows pull tighter together and your lips further apart with each thrust, heat pooling in your chest.
"fuck," he spoke, almost hidden behind the sound his balls slapping against your heat, "you look like such a fucking slut.." he groaned, hand landing hard on your ass, sending a sting through your body.
your grip on the sheets beneath you grew tighter, your grip around his cock drew taut. he knew you were close, he was too.
"m'gonna cum.." you tried to say, your brain dizzy from closeness.
"you gonna cum, baby? huh?" he taunted, his pace growing quicker, thrusting relentlessly into you. he sent another hand down hard, earning a muffled moan from you.
your thighs trembled, your back arched, and he fucked you just like that through every last bit of your orgasm.
he leaned down, placing gentle kisses along your spine.
"good job.." he whispered, wiping the hair away from your face that had plastered to your forehead.
"lay down.. ill clean you up.." he spoke as he flipped you over, face dipping down between your legs....
♱ ⸝⸝ Hockey!Rafe x gf!reader
♱ content warnings ⸝⸝ SMUT obvi, Unprotected pnv, dirty talk , choking,
♱ word count ⸝⸝ 775
♱ keep in mind ⸝⸝ english isn’t my first language!
♱ summary ⸝⸝ You made the mistake of flirting with one of rafe's teammates in front of him...
The ice is still shivering when Rafe skates his last lap, blades slicing silver scars into the surface. His jersey clings to his shoulders, translucent with sweat, the number 9 on his back darkened like a secret. You’re leaning against the plexiglass, breath fogging a small halo, when one of his teammates—Kieffer, the one with the perpetual smirk—glides over.
“Coach said we’ve got ten minutes before the bus leaves for food,” Kieffer calls, but his eyes stay on you. “You riding with us, sweetheart, or you waiting for your boy?”
The nickname drips like warm syrup. You feel Rafe’s gaze from center ice, sharp as a skate edge. So you smile, slow and sugar-bright. “Depends who’s asking, Kieffer. Maybe I like the view from the bench better when you’re on it.”
A whistle splits the air—Rafe’s stick slams the ice once, a warning. Kieffer laughs, skates backward, hands up in mock surrender. “Just playing, Cam.”
But Rafe’s already moving, gloves discarded, helmet dangling from his fingers. The rest of the team filters out, metal doors clanging shut behind them until the rink hums with nothing but fluorescent lights and the low thrum of the Zamboni in the distant bay.
He doesn’t speak until the last echo dies. Then his fingers hook the waistband of your jeans, tugging you through the door marked “Players Only.” The locker room smells like cold metal and hot skin, benches littered with tape and discarded pads. The door swings shut. Lock clicks.
“Flirting with Kieffer?” His voice is soft, almost amused, but the muscle jumping in his jaw says otherwise. “Right in front of me?”
You shrug, leaning back against a locker, metal cold through your thin shirt. “You looked busy. Didn’t want to interrupt.”
Rafe crowds closer, sweat-slick jersey brushing your chest. “You want attention, baby? Fine. You got it.”
His mouth lands on yours, hungry, tasting like rink ice and adrenaline. You gasp into the kiss and he swallows it, palms sliding to the backs of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the narrow bench. Gear clatters as your hips knock into his pads. He doesn’t bother removing them, just yanks your legs around his waist, pressing forward until the hard shell of his cup grinds against the seam of your jeans.
“Tell me again how much you like Kieffer’s view,” he growls against your throat, teeth scraping the tendon there.
You arch, fingers tunneling through sweat-damp curls. “Show me a better one, Cameron.”
A rough laugh vibrates through him. He reaches back, jerking the jersey over his head, shoulder pads following until he’s bare-chested, skin fever-warm. Your palms map the ridges of muscle, the slick slide of sweat, the frantic drum of his heart.
He pops the button of your jeans, tug-of-warring denim down your hips far enough to trace fingertips along the edge of lace. “So wet already,” he murmurs, awe and possession tangled in the words. “All for me, yeah?”
You nod, breath stuttering as he slips beneath the fabric, circling slow until your head thunks back against metal. The locker vibrates with every tiny whimper you give him.
“Say it,” he orders, voice ragged.
“All for you, Rafe.”
Satisfied, he hooks an arm under your knee, opening you wider. The bench creaks; somewhere a helmet rolls off and clatters across tile. He doesn’t care, he’s already dragging the length of himself over damp lace, teasing, letting you feel how hard practice made him, how much harder your little stunt did.
When neither of you can stand the friction anymore, he shoves his sweats just low enough, your boy—and slides home in one slick thrust. The cold metal at your back, the scalding heat of him inside you, it’s a contrast that snaps your vision white.
“Look at me,” he pants, fingers digging into your hips, setting a rhythm that rocks the entire bench. “you're such a fucking slut, watch me fuck you.” He spoke, reaching his hand to your neck, applying light pressure to the sides. The sudden light-headedness causing intense euphoria.
You do—of course you do—eyes locked on his storm-blue ones as he drives deeper, faster, until the slap of skin and the creak of wood and your shared breath are the only sounds left in the world. When you break, it’s with his name shattering across your tongue; he follows right after, burying his face in your neck, groaning like surrender.
Later—minutes, hours, who knows—he lowers you gently, presses a softer kiss to your swollen lips. “Bus is long gone,” he whispers, smug. “Guess we’re riding home together.”
You laugh, breathless, fingers threading through his. “Guess you earned the view after all.”
SORRY !! Ik this is so short.. whateverrr i write longer angst and fluff!
chris didn’t like bringing you along for deals, but that night felt small enough to justify it.
a quick drop. A familiar house. University kids pretending they weren’t exactly what they were. He’d done it a dozen times before without incident. You sitting somewhere nearby, scrolling, waiting, existing like a constant he didn’t question.
he parked half a block away. The street was already clogged with cars in various states of illegality. Music pulsed from inside the house, bass heavy, the kind that traveled through concrete and into bone.
“I’ll be fast,” he said, hand already on the door. “Sit out front. Porch steps.”
you nodded. Slid out of the car. The door closed with a soft thud.
chris hesitated long enough to watch you climb the steps, then turned away.
the porch light buzzed overhead, throwing a cone of uneven yellow across the wood. You sat near the door, knees drawn up, phone resting against your thigh. The night smelled like wet leaves and stale alcohol. Somewhere nearby, someone was laughing too loudly.
you didn’t mind waiting. Waiting was familiar. Waiting was safe.
you scrolled without reading, thumb moving out of habit more than interest. Campus alerts. A reminder about an upcoming midterm. A text from a group chat you never contributed to. You muted it again.
footsteps cut through the noise.
you looked up as three guys came around the side of the house. They moved like they already felt untouchable. Loose shoulders. Wide stances. One of them bumped into another and laughed like it was funny.
“Yo,” one said, spotting you immediately. “Didn’t know this place had a front desk.”
you didn’t react.
they slowed anyway.
“Hey,” another tried, closer now. “You waiting on someone?”
you shook your head once. Subtle. Polite.
they stopped a few feet away. Close enough to feel their attention settle on you like weight.
“Damn,” the third guy said. “She’s cute.”
your stomach tightened.
you stood.
the nearest one shifted, stepping slightly into your path. Not aggressive yet. Just assuming.
“What,” he said. “You don’t talk?”
you took your phone from your pocket and typed quickly.
I’m mute.
You held it up.
they leaned in to read it. The mood changed.
“Oh shit,” one laughed. “For real?”
“Like, actually?” another asked.
You nodded.
“That’s kinda fucked up,” the third said, smiling anyway.
they laughed again. Louder this time. Less curious. More entertained.
“So what,” the first guy said. “You can’t scream either?”
your chest went tight.
you tried to step past him.
he didn’t move.
a hand brushed your arm as he turned. Not accidental. Fingers dragging just a little too slow.
you flinched.
“Relax,” he said. “We’re just talking.”
you shook your head, sharper now. You typed again, fast.
Leave me alone.
the second guy read it over his shoulder and snorted. “She’s bossy.”
“She gonna report us?” the third asked. “Tell who?”
you backed up a step. Your heel hit the edge of the porch.
a hand shot out, gripping your wrist to steady you.
it didn’t let go.
your heart slammed hard against your ribs. You pulled back instinctively.
“Hey,” he said, tightening his grip just enough to hurt. “Don’t be dramatic.”
the other two closed in, not touching yet, just there. Blocking space. Watching.
your mouth opened.
nothing came out.
something ugly flickered across the first guy’s face when he realized it.
“Oh,” he said. “That’s wild.”
you slapped at his hand. Missed.
his grip loosened only when someone inside the house shouted something unintelligible and the music surged louder.
“Whatever,” the second guy said. “She’s weird.”
“Yeah,” the first agreed, finally letting go. “Let’s go.”
they drifted off toward the side yard, already laughing about something else.
you stayed where you were, wrist aching, pulse roaring in your ears.
when Chris came out a few minutes later, you were still sitting on the steps like nothing had happened.
“Let’s bounce,” he said, tugging his jacket on. “That party’s dead.”
you stood. Followed him. Your body felt slightly delayed, like it was catching up to itself.
he didn’t notice.
not until you were halfway back to campus and you reached for his phone.
he glanced over. “What’re you—”
you typed quickly.
Some guys messed with me on the porch. Three of them. They left before you came out.
he pulled into an empty lot without saying anything.
read it once. Again.
“Did they touch you?”
you hesitated. Then nodded. Typed.
Yeah. Not bad. But yeah.
his jaw clenched. His hands tightened on the wheel.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have left you.”
you shook your head, reaching for his arm. You didn’t want him spiraling into that place.
he covered your hand with his. Warm. Steady.
“I’ll handle it,” he said.
you didn’t ask how.
the next day felt wrong from the moment you woke up.
your phone buzzed with campus notifications. Emails about deadlines. Nothing out of the ordinary. But your body stayed tight, like it was waiting for something to happen.
chris didn’t show up to class.
you kept glancing at the empty seat beside you, half expecting him to slide in late with that familiar apology-smirk. He didn’t.
the professor droned on about material you half-absorbed. Your notes came out messy, uneven. You erased the same sentence three times.
by the time class ended, the sky had darkened. Students flowed around you, loud and distracted, carrying coffee and complaints and plans.
you tried to avoid crowded areas, walking behind buildings, hugging walls, checking over your shoulder. Every laughter, every shout, set your pulse up. Your thoughts replayed the porch. Their hands. The way you couldn’t call out. You imagined how easily they could have taken it further if the music hadn’t surged.
it wasn’t panic. It was awareness. A tiny, low-burning knot of fear. And anger. That they thought you were weak because you didn’t speak.
you found Chris near the edge of the quad, leaning against a low wall, phone in hand. He straightened when he saw you.
“There you are,” he said when he saw you.
You tilted your head. No words. Nothing to explain.
“Fixed your problem,” he added.
your steps slowed.
he reached out, resting a hand on your shoulder, guiding you toward the exit. Casual. Possessive. Protective.
“They won’t bother you anymore,” he said.
you searched his face. Calm. Unbothered. But you noticed something different. There was weight in the tilt of his jaw. Something dangerous lurking beneath his calm.
you didn’t ask questions.
as you passed the student center, a scream cut through the noise.
someone came running out of the men’s bathroom, pale and frantic. “There’s like three dudes fucked up in there. Someone call an ambulance.”
people started gathering. Phones out. Students whispering, craning their necks.
you froze.
chris’s hand tightened on your shoulder. “Keep walking.”
you did. Heart hammering. Conflicted. Safe? Unnerving? Excited? Afraid? You didn’t know. You had never felt all of those at once.
you kept pace with him. Side by side, shoulder to shoulder. He didn’t say a word, but the air around him shifted. Not threatening toward you, but everything else.
Later, you ended up back at your apartment.
chris spread weed and small baggies on the rolling tray like some kind of meticulous ritual. sitting on the couch with his elbows on his knees. The faint smell of skunk and spice filled the air.
you perched on the couch, legs tucked under yourself, watching him work. The silence stretched. Your hands twitched with the need to do something, anything to break the quiet, and yet you didn’t move. You let him be. Observed. Calculated.
you tugged his shoulder back, heart hammering. He froze for a moment, mid-roll, a small baggie hovering over the tray.
“What—what are you doing?” he asked, voice low, surprised. “I’m busy, hold on—”
you didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. You leaned closer, eyes locked on his, and kissed him.
at first, he stiffened, half out of surprise, half out of habit, but he didn’t pull away. His hand came up slowly, cupping your cheek. The other resting on your thigh. You pressed closer, letting the warmth of him settle against you.
when you pulled back slightly, just enough to breathe, he rested his forehead against yours. His voice was quiet, raspy. “You don’t have to do that… not like this.”
you shook your head, smiling faintly. Typing wasn’t necessary here. He understood.
“wait..” he asked, almost whispering. “You’re sure?”
You nodded against his chest, still holding him.
chris let out a breath you could feel vibrating through his chest. “Good,” he said. His lips brushed your temple, then your forehead, then your cheek, soft but deliberate. “cause' I’ve been wanting this too. Been wanting you.”
you laughed softly into his shoulder, relief and nervousness mixing. He tightened his arms, tilting his head so your lips met again, slow, deliberate, exploratory. His hands roamed carefully, respectful, tracing your shoulders and back without pressure. You leaned into him, letting the tension from the day, the porch, the campus, the adrenaline, melt away in these quiet touches.
after a long moment, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His thumbs traced small circles on your arms. “I'm so sorry you got hurt..I wont let it happen again.” he murmured. His voice was soft, but there was steel underneath it. “And not just anyone. Not anyone at all. You’re mine—understand?”
you nodded, chest tight. Words weren’t necessary. The weight of it, the protection, the closeness, it said more than any sentence could.
chris leaned back just slightly, forehead still touching yours. “So… you okay with this?” he asked, tone teasing, but there was warmth in his eyes. “cause' i gotta get back to rolling these...”
you smiled faintly. Leaning back into him, you whispered silently, well, silently for him, that yes, you were okay. That yes, this was exactly what you needed.
And he pulled you fully against him again, letting the night, and the quiet between you, stretch long, warm, and unbroken.
☀︎ ⸝⸝ bf!chris sturniolo x gf!reader
☀︎ content warnings ⸝⸝ dirty talk ᛭ sexual tension ᛭ unprotected pnv ᛭ big!matt ᛭ praise kink ᛭ getting silenced by his hand ᛭ breeding kink ᛭ creampie ᛭ tiny bit of fluff ᛭ more.
☀︎ word count ⸝⸝ 1.2k
☀︎ keep in mind ⸝⸝ english isn’t my first language + lowercase intended.
☀︎ notes ⸝⸝ ughhh i haven't read a single ff about matt or chris that involves them riding a motorcycle and i have been gnawing at the bars of my enclosure for it
The low rumble of his motorcycle cuts through the quiet like thunder before a storm. you jolts up from the couch, heart in her throat.
Finally.
you rush to the window, fingers parting the blinds just enough to see him, helmet tucked under his arm, two crinkled brown paper bags hanging from his hands. The setting sun kisses the edge of his jaw as he walks, casting golden shadows across his cheekbones. He looks effortless, as always. A little flushed. Maybe from the ride. Maybe from knowing you've been waiting.
you watch the way his black shirt stretches over his back when he unlocks the door. The way the veins in his forearms flex as he adjusts his grip on the bags.
The door opens with a soft creak.
He steps in, his boots heavy on the hardwood. He meets her eyes, a sly smile already curling the corner of his mouth.
“Hey, baby,” he says, voice low, calm, like he didn’t just disappear for three hours with no texts, like you weren't pacing the living room half-convinced something happened.
“You said an hour,” you say, arms crossed, but you can’t help the way your voice softens, betraying your relief.
He shrugs a shoulder, setting the bags on the counter with a rustle. “I know. I had to stop at three places. One didn’t have the grapes.”
“Grapes?” you echo, walking toward him.
He pulls one of the bags open and lifts a cluster of perfect, fat, deep purple grapes, chilled, with condensation glistening on the skin. He tosses one up, catches it in his mouth, and chews slowly, eyes on yours the whole time.
“For the wine,” he says.
But there’s a spark behind his eyes, something playful and knowing. He drops the grapes on the counter, steps closer. your breath catches.
He smells like the night air and gasoline. His fingers graze your hip as he passes behind you, and then he leans in close to whisper near your ear:
“Miss me?”
You eyed the grape he held out, refusing to give him the satisfaction of reaching for it. Instead, you leaned back against the wall, tilting your chin like you weren’t affected.
Chris chuckled under his breath, closing the distance anyway. “C’mon,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, “don’t make me eat all of these alone.”
When you didn’t move, he raised the grape to your lips himself, his fingers brushing the corner of your mouth. The simple touch sent a sharp spark through you, and your resolve cracked. You opened your lips just enough, letting him slip it past them.
The sweetness burst on your tongue, but it was nothing compared to the heat in his gaze when you looked up at him again. His hand lingered at your jaw, thumb tracing lightly along your skin.
“I hate how mad you make me,” you whispered, though your voice betrayed the shiver running through you.
Chris’s smirk softened into something hungrier, more certain. He leaned in, close enough that you could smell the faint tang of gasoline and wind still clinging to him. “You don’t hate it,” he said quietly. “You like it.”
Your breath caught as he set the grapes aside, both of his hands bracing the wall on either side of you, caging you in. The air between you thinned, charged and heavy, as if everything else had fallen away but this moment.
His hand grazes your hip, pulling you closer to him.
"You never answered my question.. did you miss me, mama?"
He whispers against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You nod, "Yes.." He chuckles and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. "good girl."
He slowly leans down, his lips making contact with the bare skin on your neck. He leaves soft kisses down to your collarbone before making his way up to your lips. His lips gently meet yours, his cold hands slowly slipping up your shirt.
Your skin prickles at the sudden cold, but you couldn't care less. The heat rising between you two made up for it. His kiss became more aggressive as he reached his other hand up to undo your bra, throwing it to the ground beside you.
"Jump" He spoke, his hands behind your thighs to support. You obey, your arms reaching up to wrap around his neck. "Take my shirt off" Once again, you obey. He presses himself against you as you leans back to take his shirt off, you feel him throbbing against you.
You throw his shirt to the side, placing your hands on his bare chest. You run your fingers along his tattoo. the tattoo you drew for him, the tattoo he chose to get. God. It only turned you on more.
He smirks as he watches you admire the tattoo you've seen hundreds of times before.
You look back up, his eyes meeting yours.
"Look, im all for the lovey dovey stuff, you know that but.. its starting to hurt, baby." He voiced, motioning to the bulge growing in his pants. You had no words, you just giggled.
"Fuck this.." he mumbled, shifting your weight onto one arm and leg as he reaches down to un zip and pull down his pants. You watch as his large..i mean large.. member flops up to hit his stomach. This only made the ache between your legs grow stronger.
He takes his finger to move your panties to the side, rubbing slow circles over your clit. Small whimpers escape your lips. he replaces his fingers for the tip of his cock, running up and down in between your slick folds.
your hips buck needly, driving him crazy. he wants to be gentle with you right now, he has to control himself. He alines himself against your entrance. Soft, needy moans almost begging him to hurry.
"I'm gonna go gentle, s'okay?" He spoke, slowly pushing his length inside you. You toss your head back slightly, fingertips pressing hard at his shoulder. His rhythm is slow, passionate. His heavy breath landing on your neck as he leisurely takes his time feeling your insides wrap around him.
Slow but deep. He makes sure you take every inch of him. His hands digging into your ass, yours digging into his back. "Please.. faster." You whimper out. This feels amazing, yes. But you want to hit your high quick.. you're so hungry.
"Come on, baby.. Y'know i can't do that," He spoke, his words tying around you like lace ribbon, making your body tense. "I said im gunna go gentle.."
You tighten around him, causing him to grunt an almost natural grunt. his grip around you tightens as his pace slightly quickens.
"You're doing so good, sweetheart.." his thumb finds its way back to your clit, running quick circles. "God chris.." You breath, your grasp on his back turning into scratches as your nails dig into his back.
"C'mon mama, i know you're close.." he says breathlessly. That was it. Thats when you unravel. You feel your body tense up, your hips twitching, mouth agape.
'Good girl, baby..all over my cock" he whispered into your neck, as he too let go. You feel him release himself, warming your insides. He falls forward, head landing on your shoulder.
you giggle, "I would like a grape now..."
"yeah?"
"yea.."
sorry ughh i suck at writing smut lmao.. im trying to get better so bear w me here (i think thats the wrong bear>?) anywho, pls interact!)
