Discover Top Posts Tagged with #sturn777

FRATBOY!CHRIS SEES YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME.

CHRIS ISN'T USED TO BEING SPEECHLESS. but when you walk into the frat house, dressed to kill, heels clicking against the floor like you own the place—he damn near forgets how to breathe.

you don’t even spare him a glance, too busy fixing your lip gloss in the reflection of your phone camera, looking wholly unimpressed with the sea of drunk, sloppy guys around you.

“who’s that?” chris mutters to matt, eyes locked on you as you make your way to the bar, your dress hugging every curve just right.

“don’t even try,” matt snorts, clapping him on the shoulder. “she’d eat you alive.”

chris ignores him, already making his way over. because if there’s one thing he loves, it’s a challenge.

and you? you look like the type of girl who makes men beg.

he slides in beside you, resting an elbow on the bar, flashing that cocky grin that gets him out of trouble more often than not. “you look lost, sweetheart.”

your gaze flicks to him, bored and unimpressed. “do i?”

his smirk falters for a split second. he’s used to girls eating up the frat boy charm, melting at the attention of chris sturniolo, but you don’t even bat an eye.

“yeah,” he recovers quickly, leaning in just enough to get a whiff of whatever expensive perfume you’re wearing. “but lucky for you, i know my way around.”

“oh, how kind,” you deadpan, giving him a slow once over. “lemme guess. you’re gonna offer me a drink, then spend the whole night trying to get in my pants?”

chris blinks. “i mean—”

“because if that’s the plan, just save us both the trouble and go bother some other girl instead.”

jesus christ.

he should walk away.

he should.

but instead, he just grins, because if anything, you’ve just made him more interested.

“you think i’m that predictable, huh?” he muses, tilting his head as he watches you sip your drink, lips glossy and shining under the dim lights.

you arch a perfect brow. “i think you’re like every other frat boy in here. same cologne, same cocky attitude, same—” your gaze flicks down, lips twitching “silver chain.”

“you’re brutal.”

“i’m honest.”

chris laughs, shaking his head. “alright, darlin'. what does a guy have to do to impress you, then?”

you tilt your head, pretending to think it over. “hmm… not be a frat boy for starters.”

he places a hand over his chest, mock-offended. “ouch.”

you roll your eyes. “seriously? you’re actually still here?”

“yep,” he grins, popping the ‘p.’

you exhale through your nose, setting your drink down with a little too much force. “you just love annoying girls, don’t you?”

“only the ones who look this good when they’re pissed off,” he quips, eyes flickering down to where your dress hugs your waist.

you suck in a sharp breath, and for the first time all night, chris sees something in your expression other than thinly veiled irritation.

intrigue.

“cute,” you mutter, shaking your head.

“so, what’s your deal?” he presses, watching you twirl a manicured finger around the rim of your glass. “you show up looking like a fucking dream just to roll your eyes at everyone?”

you smirk. “maybe.”

“so you like the attention.”

“i like watching guys make fools of themselves over me.”

“huh,” he hums, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip. “you get off on that, huh? leading guys on, watching them chase you?”

“why? you jealous?”

“nah,” chris says easily, sipping his beer. “just tryna figure out what makes you tick.”

you lean in, eyes flickering down to his lips. “you sure you can handle the answer?”

his grip tightens around his bottle. fuck.

he’s been with cocky girls before. girls who tease, who like the push and pull, the chase.

but you?

you’re something else.

💬 : idk what this is ! what should i do to celebrate 800 followers ?? lmk what u'd like to see in my inbox ++

🏷 : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @st4rcs ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory ; @matttsangel ; @awnmaneez ; @heartss4clauu ; @mattsstarlet ; @madisturni ; @marrykisskilled ; @inspiredangel ; @mattsdemi ; @sturnioloangell ; @ivyandthebeans ; @amelia-sturniolo3 ; @dominicfikeenthusiast ; @sophand4n4 ; @ch6rm ; @et6rnalsun; @sturniolossss ; @jetaimevous ; @chrissweetheart ; @secretlocket ; @courta13 ; @mattsleftball ; @chrislova ; @etherealval ; @throatgoat4u ; @oopsiedaisydeer ; @dearsoulmate3 )

&&& introducing . . . model!chris & pr girl!reader ,, bot here.

sypnosis : when famous model chris sturniolo gets caught cheating, his image tanks overnight. to save face, his pr exec (aka you) agrees to fake date him. the problem? the headlines sell a little too well, and suddenly, pretend doesn’t feel so fake anymore.

$ model!chris : versace campaigns and off-white fittings. black coffee before 8 am call times. late night flights to milan, the soft hum of jet engines lulling him to sleep. saint laurent sheets in a penthouse suite, runway models in his bed. his duffle always half-packed. a cigarette between his fingers, exhaling through parted lips on a balcony overlooking tokyo. vogue editorials stacked on his nightstand. flashes of paparazzi bulbs, his jaw clenched tight. runway walks to bass-heavy music. tired smirks and tired eyes, but the bags are designer. his face on billboards, but he only looks at the ground. calls his mother between takes. private, but not a secret.

$ pr girl!reader : balenciaga blazers and perfectly timed press releases. espresso shots over redlined contracts. her inbox full, her patience thin. damage control on speed dial, statement drafts open in another tab. the public sees what she wants them to, never too much, never too little. airpods in, typing as she walks through lobbies, heels clicking against marble. the scent of expensive perfume lingering in black town cars. tabs open to trend forecasts, knowing what’s viral before it even hits the algorithm. texts from him at ungodly hours "do i really have to post this?"—yes, chris. a ghostwriter for his perfect public image, but he only calls her when the cameras are off.

$ together : a soft "where are you?" at 3 am, his voice thick with sleep. her itinerary open on her phone, cross-checking with his. she tells him what to say, but he only listens when it's her name in his mouth. stolen moments between fittings and meetings. his hoodie on her chair in an office he never visits. hotel lobbies and long glances. her hands fixing his tie before an event, his fingers brushing her wrist, slow. unspoken rules, unspoken feelings. denied in interviews, yet his instagram posts tell another story.

──────────────────────────────

roses 'n rolled blunts, fb!chris x dealer!r

valentine’s day wasn’t really your thing. or chris’s.

but somehow, here you were, stretched out on chris’s couch, a blunt between your fingers, a bouquet of red roses sitting on his coffee table.

"who the fuck got you those?" you ask, exhaling smoke as you nod toward the flowers.

chris, posted up beside you in his usual hoodie and sweats, stretches his arms behind his head, all casual. "who do you think?"

your brows raise. "you buy yourself roses now?"

he snorts, shaking his head. "nah, dumbass. they're for you."

you blink. "for me?"

"yeah." he shrugs, grabbing the blunt from your hand, taking a slow drag. "figured i should get you somethin'. y’know, since you’re my girl and all."

his girl. he says it like it’s nothing, like it’s a fact of life. and maybe it is, but hearing it out loud still sends a spark down your spine.

you scoff, trying to play it cool. "what, no dinner? no fancy restaurant?"

chris grins, tapping the ash into a tray. "nah, but i got weed, wings, and a six pack in the fridge. sounds better, don’t it?"

you pretend to think about it, biting your lip. "mmm… depends. what kind of wings?"

he smirks, leaning in just enough that you catch the scent of his cologne under the smoke. "whatever kind you want, baby."

you roll your eyes, but the smirk playing on your lips gives you away.

he laughs, deep and low, tossing an arm over the back of the couch. "see? i knew i picked the right girl."

you exhale, leaning back into the cushions, letting the haze of smoke and the warmth of chris beside you settle in your bones. it’s easy like this, the way it always is with him, laid back, teasingg, effortless.

his fingers find your thigh absentmindedly, tracing slow circles through the thin material of your sweats. casual, but you feel the heat of it anyway.

"what, you get all sentimental on valentine’s day or somethin’?" you tease, nudging him.

he scoffs. "nah. just thinkin’."

"bout what?"

he exhales, flicking his lighter open and closed. "bout how i’d rather be doin’ something better with you than sittin’ here watchin’ reruns of some dumbass show you like."

your jaw drops. "gossip girl is not a dumbass show, it's a masterpiece."

"debatable."

you shove his shoulder, but he barely budges, just chuckles lowly, his hand sliding higher up your thigh.

you continue, "what exactly did you have in mind?"

he hums, tapping his fingers against your skin, thinking. "could take you to bed. show you how much i really appreciate you."

your stomach flips at that, at the way his voice drops an octave, lazy and thick with implication.

but you don’t give in that easy. "i wanna finish my blunt first?"

he smirks, plucking it from your fingers, taking a slow, taunting drag before exhaling the smoke toward the ceiling.

"guess you’re done now."

you scoff, shaking your head, but the heat pooling between your thighs betrays you.

"c’mon, valentine," he mutters, his voice all honey and smoke as he pulls you onto his lap, strong hands settling on your hips. "lemme make this a night worth rememberin’."

you tilt your head, pretending to think about it, but you both know you’re already gone for him.

tough luck . | ( female reader ) wc 1.5k + ( masterlist ) ↻ ◁ previous II next ▷ ↺

TWO WEEKS HAD PASSED since the kiss, a whole two weeks. the kind of time that felt like an eternity when you were pretending to forget about it. but then, you were on vacation in the bahamas, spending most of your time lounging by the pool, sipping on piña coladas, and definitely not thinking about chris. after all, you were the one who had told yourself it didn’t matter, right? you were carefree. you were on vacation. who needed drama when the sun was out, and everything tasted like summer?

you shrugged it off like it was nothing. after all, he was just chris. what was a kiss if not just a moment? nothing more than an impulse, a fleeting thought.

when you returned home, you were greeted by the usual, a few texts from your friends, a couple of missed calls, and then the message that made you stop mid-sip of your iced coffee. chris was throwing a barbecue, and everyone was invited. everyone. you stared at the message for a second. was he serious? you hadn’t seen him in weeks, and now, out of nowhere, he was throwing a party.

but you were nothing if not unpredictable, so you shrugged and went with it. "let’s make an appearance," you said to your parents, who quickly agreed.

the minute you pulled up to chris’s house, the familiar buzz of expensive cars and noise filled the air. kids from the neighborhood, all dressed to impress, were scattered around the lawn. the smell of burgers and hot dogs wafted in the air.

you made your way inside with your parents, greeting a few of the neighbors along the way. everyone seemed to be having fun, laughing and chatting as if nothing was out of the ordinary, after all, nothing was.

then, you spotted him. chris was standing by the grill, talking to a few people. and for a second, you debated just turning around and walking right back out. you hadn’t expected it to be like this.

but you had already made your way over to him with your parents in tow. as soon as you stepped up beside him, he turned to face you. his expression was casual, like the kiss hadn’t happened at all.

“hi, mr. and mrs. y/l/n,” he said smoothly, offering a polite handshake to your parents before turning to you. “and you… hey.” his voice was cool, unaffected. no hint of the tension you had both shared. he was cold, as if nothing had ever happened. you stood there, feeling your heart drop, trying not to show how hurt you were. so this was how it was going to be, huh?

“hi, chris,” you said, forcing a smile. “it’s been a while.”

“yeah,” he replied nonchalantly. “been a busy couple weeks.” he tilted his head, his gaze lingering on you for just a second longer than necessary.

before you could react, a soft voice broke through. "hey babe!" you turned to see a girl standing next to chris, her arms wrapped around his waist, kate. she was effortlessly pretty. "hi, there." the girl said with a bright smile. "great to see you again, hun."

you were silent for a moment, taking in the scene before you. chris, with her. yet again. “hey, kate,” you said, forcing out a smile. you looked at chris again, his hand casually resting on her hip.

"this is my girlfriend," chris added, as if that should explain everything. his voice was polite, but there was something in the way he said it, as if the whole thing was a mere formality. like you didn’t matter, like you’d never meant anything.

and for a moment, you just stood there, feeling completely dumbfounded. all that time, all that drama, and here he was, acting like it meant nothing. like you didn’t mean anything.

but you smiled, putting on the mask you knew how to wear. “well, it’s always great seeing you, kate.” you turned back to chris. “hope you’re all enjoying yourselves.”

chris gave you a quick glance, his eyes unreadable. “yeah, we’re having a great time.” and with that, he walked away, his hand still firmly around kate’s waist as they rejoined the rest of the guests.

you stood there, trying not to feel like the air had been knocked out of you. but it had. and you knew right then — whatever this was, it wasn’t over. not by a long shot.

the evening stretched on, the laughter and chatter of the party echoing around you, but you found yourself unable to shake the feeling of being out of place. you’d avoided chris all night, sticking close to your parents and keeping conversations light with people you didn’t care about. it was easy to pretend everything was fine, even though it wasn’t.

you hadn’t expected it to sting this much, seeing him with kate, the way he was so natural with her, so comfortable. it was like you hadn’t mattered at all.

chris, for his part, didn’t seem to care much about your absence. he was busy chatting with his friends, the usual cocky grin on his face as he clinked bottles with some other guys. every now and then, he’d glance at his phone, and then he’d casually continue talking like it was just another day. asshole.

you stood at the edge of the crowd for a while, watching him, trying to calm the irritation that was bubbling up in your chest. eventually, you took a deep breath, told yourself to stop being childish, and walked over to him.

he was leaning against the kitchen counter, his phone in one hand as he spoke to a couple of his buddies. when he noticed you approaching, he gave you a glance but didn’t stop what he was doing. his eyes barely flickered over to you, the same indifferent expression on his face, as his friends took a hint and walked away.

“hey,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, even though there was a part of you that wanted to scream.

he glanced up, barely registering your presence. “hey.” his voice was casual, as if everything was just fine. “so... you’re dating kate now, huh?” you asked, trying to sound casual, like it didn’t matter, like you didn’t care.

chris’ eyebrows raised slightly, a little surprised by the question, but he didn’t hesitate. “yeah, we’ve been together for a couple weeks, give or take,” he said, giving you a shrug.

you nodded, your fingers curling into the edge of the counter. “didn’t realize you two were together... y’know, with the kiss and all,” you added, trying to sound indifferent, but you couldn’t hide the sting in your words.

he raised an eyebrow at you, clearly unfazed. “why, something wrong?” his tone was light, like he wasn’t even trying. you looked him dead in the eye. “no, not at all,” you replied. but your voice betrayed you, and you could hear the frustration in it.

chris took a deep breath, glancing down at his phone before locking it and slipping it into his pocket. “i’m sorry, did you, uh, call me once after the fact?” he asked, almost mockingly. “because for weeks, i didn’t hear from you. so forgive me for not waiting around 'till you came along.”

you froze, his words hitting harder than you expected. "what do you mean? you just moved on that quickly?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

chris exhaled sharply, his gaze drifting around the room before looking back at you. he said your name like it meant nothing, his eyes cold. “you didn’t seem too interested, did you? i mean, not even a text, not even a ‘hey, how’s it going?’”

you were taken aback by the tone in his voice. you hadn’t expected him to sound so… calm. almost like he’d been over it for a while, and you hadn’t been a part of it. “so, what? you just decided to make it official with kate?” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, but it was shaking.

“yeah,” he replied, eyes steady on you. “because i’m not gonna waste my time waiting for someone who doesn’t even bother to reach out. no offense, but i’m not a fuckin' charity case.”

there was silence between you two for a moment, just the sound of laughter from the party filling the empty space. your chest tightened, and for the first time that night, you realized how much you had actually been hoping for something different. but it didn’t matter now.

you let out a breath, trying to collect yourself. “well, i guess this was a waste of my time,” you muttered under your breath, already regretting getting involved at all.

chris didn’t reply immediately, but his eyes softened for just a second. a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place, before he nodded. “yeah, well. i guess we both got what we wanted, huh?”

you didn’t answer him, instead turning on your heel and walking away. but the weight of his words stayed with you, lingering in the air like the smoke of an unresolved fight.

✉️ : calm luh angst, (peep the gilmore girls inspo!)

🏷 : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @st4rcs ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory ; @matttsangel ; @awnmaneez ; @heartss4clauu ; @mattsstarlet ; @madisturni ; @marrykisskilled ; @allmylovc ; @mattsdemi ; @sturnioloangell ; @ivyandthebeans ; @amelia-sturniolo3 ; @dominicfikeenthusiast ; @sophand4n4 ; @ch6rm ; @et6rnalsun; @sturniolossss ; @jetaimevous )

divider : @issysh3ll

readers reaction to rapper!chris new song "now we're strangers" (central cee) about them and their messy break up :(

now we're strangers ,, rapper!chris x reader

you don’t even have to press play. you already know.

but you do anyway.

the beat rolls in smooth, heavy, the kind that creeps under your skin and settles deep in your bones. his voice follows a second later, familiar in a way that makes your stomach twist.

"i can still recite your number off by heart..."

your breath catches.

you hate how true it is.

he could dial your number in his sleep, same way you could recognize his voice in a crowded room, even now. but what does that matter when he never calls anymore?

how would mechanic!reader react if car racer!chris got a little too friendly with an interviewer??

hands off the driver — c. sturniolo

you knew chris had a flirty streak. it was part of his charm, the same cocky grin and smooth talk that got sponsors eating out of his hand. you usually didn’t let it get to you. but watching him lean just a little too close to that interviewer, flashing that grin and letting his hand linger on her arm? yeah, that wasn’t sitting right with you.

you stayed silent, arms crossed, wiping your hands off with a rag as you leaned against his car. you weren’t the type to throw a fit. oh no, you’d make him feel it instead.

chris, oblivious at first, strutted over after the interview, all high on himself like usual. “yo, did you see that? she was eatin’ up everything i said,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

you didn’t even look up. “yeah, i saw.”

he frowned at your tone. “what’s with the attitude?”

you scoffed, tossing the rag onto the car hood. “no attitude. why don’t you go have her check your tires before the next race?”

his smirk faltered, realization settling in. “ohhh, that’s what this is about.” he stepped closer, crowding you against the car. “you jealous, baby?”

you rolled your eyes, pushing past him. “please. like i care who you flirt with.”

but before you could walk off, his hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you back against his chest. “nah, see, i think you do,” he murmured, voice dropping as he leaned in. “and i like it.”

you glared up at him, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumped at his proximity. “you’re insufferable.”

he smirked. “and you’re hot when you’re pissed.”

“then you’re about to find me real attractive,” you shot back, shoving a wrench into his chest before pulling away. “your engine needs tuning. try not to get distracted this time, yeah?”

he watched you walk off, shaking his head with a low chuckle. damn, he really loved getting under your skin.

💬 : about to post some requests !! they been sitting in drafts for 2 long

enemies to lovers w matt sturniolo . | ( female!reader ) wc ?? ( masterlist ) + ( soft hour ) + ( request )

lana's note : if this does well i'll make it a series 🤍.

you’ve hated matt sturniolo for as long as you can remember. not in the way people say they hate bad weather or school cafeteria food. no, your hatred for him is personal, rooted in something stupid and childish but still very real.

it all started with a blue crayon.

kindergarten. you were perfectly content, coloring your picture of a sunlit park with a family picnic under a tree. the blue crayon was crucial—it was the sky, the pond, the little bird in the corner. then matt sturniolo had to ruin everything.

“can i use that?” he’d asked, pointing at the blue crayon in your hand. your mom always told you to share, so, against your better judgment, you handed it over. and what did he do? he pressed so hard while coloring his scribbly little car that the crayon snapped in half.

you yelled. he yelled back. time-outs were issued. cards were pulled. and ever since then, you’ve had it out for each other. now it’s senior year, and somehow, despite years of carefully avoiding each other’s orbit, fate has decided to intervene.

your gaze snaps up, glaring at the teacher as she reads your name along with his, looking up from her clipboard. “you’ll be working together on your senior project.”

you freeze, mid-note, and whip your head toward matt, who’s slouched in his chair like this is all some big cosmic joke. he smirks at you, and you clench your jaw so hard your teeth hurt.

“ms. taylor,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “are you sure? i mean, maybe there’s been a mistake?”

“no mistake,” she replies, not looking up. “you two will make a great team.” you glance at matt again. he gives you a little wave, obnoxiously smug. your blood boils.

that night at dinner, you vent to your mom, stabbing at your mashed potatoes with unnecessary force. “out of everyone in my class, matt sturniolo? really? what kind of cruel punishment is this?”

your mom gives you a pointed look over her wine glass. “you know, i grew up with matt’s mom.” you blink, caught off guard. “what?”

“yeah,” she says, like it’s no big deal. “we were in the same friend group. she’s lovely. i bet matt’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

you scoff. “mom, the guy broke my crayon in kindergarten and has been an absolute nightmare ever since. i’m not about to have some big bonding moment with him.”

“maybe it’s time you let that go,” she says, shrugging. “you might actually like him if you give him a chance.”

the next day, you find yourself standing in front of matt’s locker, the words just do it for mom looping in your head like a broken record. “hey,” you say when he looks up, already suspicious. “what do you want?”

you take a deep breath. “look, i don’t like this either, but my mom and your mom are apparently childhood besties, so…”

he raises an eyebrow. “so?”

“so,” you grit out, “let’s just work together and get this over with. no drama. deal?” for a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to decide if you’re serious. then, to your surprise, he nods. “fine. deal.”

you walk away before he can say anything else, already regretting every life choice that led to this moment.

taglist : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @flouqissss ; @st4rcs ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory ; @matttsangel ; @awnmaneez ; @heartss4clauu )

divider : @issysh3ll

#sturn777 #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #anon ask #matt x y/n #matt x you #matt x reader #matthew x reader #matthew sturniolo #matthew x y/n #matthew x you #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers

need a au where matt is like a sexy, dilf looking bartender and young minx reader meet at the bar. like she's flirty and visibly into him whiles he's cold, but also flirty. tell me I'm not insane. an age gap trope type of thing like hello?

bartender!matt x confident!reader . | ( female!reader ) wc : 1.1k ( masterlist ) + ( request )

lana's note : hoolyy . you're actually a genius anon i can't describe how much i love this au idea .

the bar is dark, the kind of dim lighting that feels like it’s designed for secrets and whispered confessions. the hum of low conversation is drowned out by the clinking of glass and the shuffle of feet on the sticky floor. it’s late—past midnight—just the kind of hour where the night feels like it’s full of possibility and trouble.

you slide into a seat at the bar, legs crossed, eyes scanning the room for something to catch your attention. that’s when you see him.

matt.

he’s leaning against the counter, polishing a glass, his sleeves rolled up to show off forearms that have seen their fair share of work. the kind of forearms you want to touch, just to see if they feel as good as they look. his hair is messy in the way that’s intentional, a bit of stubble on his jaw, and those eyes—those eyes that don’t miss a thing, even though he’s barely looking at anyone. you know the type.

you can already feel the heat between you two, even from across the room. it’s not the first time you’ve noticed him, but tonight? tonight feels different.

you raise an eyebrow, letting your eyes linger on him for a second longer than necessary. his gaze flickers to you for a split second—cold, assessing—but it’s enough to know he’s noticed.

you can feel the tension simmering in the air, thick and palpable, as you move towards the bar. the noise of the room seems to fade away. all you hear now is your heartbeat.

you sit down, your legs crossing smoothly. his eyes flick to you again, just long enough for you to catch a glimpse of that smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“what can i get you?” he asks, voice low, with an edge to it, like he’s seen this kind of thing a hundred times before.

you lean forward just enough to make sure he notices the way your shirt dips low, a flirtatious smile on your lips. “i think i’ll have whatever you’re having,” you say, your voice teasing, soft but direct.

his eyes narrow, just a fraction, like he’s trying to decide if you’re worth playing with. “is that so?”

“mm-hmm.” you let your gaze drift over him again, taking in the way his muscles flex as he moves, the way the dim light catches the sharp lines of his face. he’s older, probably by a decade or so, but it’s the kind of age gap you can get into. you can feel the heat between you both now, thick like smoke, and it’s only a matter of time before one of you takes the first step.

he smirks, then leans in just a little closer, voice dropping lower. “you sure you can handle it?”

you meet his gaze, not backing down. “oh, i can handle anything you’ve got.”

the challenge is there, unspoken but clear, and you can feel his walls slipping just a little, even if he won’t admit it. he places a glass in front of you with a slow, deliberate motion, his fingers brushing yours just barely.

“one whiskey, neat,” he says, his voice rougher now, like the calm before the storm.

you take the glass, fingers grazing against his once more, holding his gaze for a second longer. “thanks,” you murmur, the words practically dripping with something between a compliment and a dare.

he leans back, crossing his arms, watching you closely, the flicker of curiosity hidden behind that cool exterior. you take a sip of the whiskey, your lips curling at the burn, but you never break eye contact.

he chuckles, low and dangerous. “you’re bold.”

“yeah,” you say, leaning in a little, letting the words linger in the air between you. “i like to keep things interesting.”

there’s a shift in the air now. you can feel it. like the whole bar just disappeared, and it’s just the two of you, caught in this web of tension. the crowd’s still laughing, talking, dancing, but it’s all background noise now.

“interesting, huh?” he says, his voice like velvet, his smirk never leaving. “you’re not scared of me?”

“scared?” you let out a laugh, a little playful, a little challenging. “why would i be scared of you? you don’t look so intimidating.”

he raises an eyebrow, leaning closer to you again, his presence towering, demanding attention. “you might want to rethink that.”

you’re not backing down. not now. you tilt your head, big eyes never leaving his. “i’ve got a thing for bad boys,” you mutter teasingly, so close now you can feel the heat radiating off his body.

he exhales a slow breath, lips curling into a grin. “lucky you, then.”

you feel the sudden urge to close the space between you two, but he’s already leaning in, his lips brushing lightly against your ear.

“come with me,” he murmurs, voice low and commanding.

you’re halfway to the bathroom before you’ve even realized what’s happening. the world seems to fade away, the only thing in focus being his presence. his hand is on the small of your back, guiding you with a subtle pressure, and your pulse races in time with your steps.

as soon as you step inside the cramped bathroom stall, the door locks behind you with a soft click. the second it’s just the two of you, he pushes you against the wall, his lips capturing yours with an urgency that makes your head spin.

he’s all heat and muscle, his hands roaming your body, free hand pulling your top over your head, as he palmed the growing ache between your thighs, and you can feel the tension between you snap as he pulls you closer, pressing his body to yours. every kiss is a claim, every touch a promise. you can’t get enough of him, and the feeling’s mutual, no doubt.

his breath is ragged against your skin as he pulls away for a second, eyes dark with desire. “you sure about this?”

you smirk, your lips brushing his as you nod. “do it.”

without hesitation, he’s on you again, a heat building between you both that leaves no space for anything but the moment. it’s messy and desperate, the kind of thing you know you won’t forget the second you walk out of that stall . . .

divider : @issysh3ll