Novacane— Chris Sturniolo
(based on the song by frank ocean)
told from chris’s point of view.
⋆˙⟡ in which: chris meets the girl of his dreams at a music festival and can’t get her out of his head.
a/n: idk i just love frank ocean.
cw: cursing, hard drug use, mentions of pornography, suggestive
He was walking around the festival when she caught his eye— broad shoulders like the mold of a model, a dazzling smile that looked like it belonged in Hollywood.
Round and plump stripper ass and a rack that made him do a double take.
She was wearing low waisted jeans and a pastel yellow bandeau top. A large stone necklace rested just above her cleavage. Her ears were adorned with hoops the width of a tin can. He remembered what his brother Matt had told him. “The bigger the hoop, the bigger the hoe.”
“So who are you here to see?” He asked smoothly.
She seemed to size him up before answering. “Z Trip. And you?”
“Ah, I see.” Her eyes lingered on Chris’s jean shorts for a second longer than necessary.
Five minutes later they were sitting on the freezing cold lawn, getting to know each other.
She handed him an ice blue bong and offhandedly commented, “I want to be a dentist really badly. I’m in school for it right now. I do porn to pay for tuition.”
He raised his eyebrows and she laughed.
“Never,” He answered. Whatever drug she had given him was starting to kick in. He couldn’t feel his face, he was dizzy, and he felt like he was floating out of his body. “What are we smokin’ anyway?”
She giggled, shifting her weight, and said, “Don’t let the high go to waste.”
The night was spent in his hotel room, tasting of Novacane and smelling of sex.
A tripod was set up with a camera, and a song in the background rang throughout the hotel room.
“Fuck me good, fuck me long, fuck me numb; Love me now, when I'm gone love me none.”
Chris woke up at 2 pm. He groaned and threw off the covers, padding into the kitchen barefoot.
He grabbed a $50 bill that was laying around and used it to gather a white line, rolling it and snorting through one nostril.
Cocaine for breakfast, yikes.
His bed was full of women, always. But tonight, it was someone who reminded Chris of her.
He flipped on the tripod, the little red light blinking to show that the device on its stand was recording.
This is some visionary shit, Chris thought as he positioned himself over the woman whose name he didn’t even know.
He tried to keep his eyes shut and imagine her, but the girl kept moving beneath him, causing his eyes to snap open.
The high slowly worked through him and made him numb…
He couldn’t feel a thing.
Chris couldn’t forget her. He blamed it on that amazing body, and her skills in bed. That one night has changed his life.
She put him on a feeling he never had, and ever since, he had been trying to get it back.
Chris knew only she could pick it up and put it back.
a/n: this was written on my flight back from vacation at 12 am i’m so sorry if it’s terrible.
taglist (ask to be added!): @sturniolobananas1 @pawmpkinnn @courta13 @iluvchr1s @starryeyedivy @babyt0matoes @matts-babytomatoes @sturnsobsessed21 @thecrawlys @munkincakes
