#ଘ꒰ ceo!chris x brat!reader ꒱

[sturn777]

ceo!chris asks you to stay after a meeting . | ( female!reader ) wc : 1.2k ( masterlist ) + ( part one )

lana's note : since some of u guys wanted a pt 2 🤍.

the conference room hums with quiet conversation as you step in, documents balanced neatly in your arms. your heels click against the polished floor, drawing a few curious glances, but you keep your focus ahead, eyes locked on the head of the table.

there he is— christopher sturniolo. even in a room full of executives, he commands attention. his tie is loose, the top button of his shirt undone, and he leans back in his chair with the kind of casual authority that only someone like him can pull off.

“you’re late,” he murmurs as you take your seat beside him. “i’m not,” you counter smoothly, setting the documents in front of him. his eyes flick to yours, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “close enough.”

the meeting begins, a blur of projections, budgets, and plans you barely process because you’re hyperaware of him beside you. his presence is magnetic, every subtle movement drawing your attention. he taps his pen lazily against the table, his long fingers a constant distraction.

“thoughts?” one of the team members directs toward christopher, pulling you back to the conversation. he straightens, speaking with an ease that’s both intimidating and infuriating. “cut the fluff. focus on what’s actionable. we don’t need to overcomplicate this.”

his tone is all business, but under the table, his hand brushes against your thigh.

you stiffen, your pen faltering mid-note, but he doesn’t react—at least not outwardly. his expression remains neutral, his voice steady as he continues to address the team. his fingers linger, light and deliberate, sending a rush of heat through you.

you glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he doesn’t look your way, as if he’s entirely unaware of the effect he’s having on you.

“any further input?” he asks the room, his tone calm, collected.

you cross your legs in an attempt to break the contact, but his hand moves with you, his touch bolder now, tracing slow, maddening circles.

“none,” someone replies, and the meeting wraps up quickly after that. people file out, leaving you alone with him in the quiet conference room. you stand abruptly, gathering your things, but his voice stops you.

“stay.”

it’s not a request.

you glance at him, your heart pounding as he leans back in his chair, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“you did well,” he says, his tone measured.

you nod softly, muttering a small thank you as your manicured fingers grip the table, in an attempt to steady yourself. he stands slowly, closing the space between you in a few steps. he stops in front of you, his gaze sharp, assessing.

“but you were distracted,” he murmurs, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse race.

“i wasn’t—”

“don’t lie,” he interrupts, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “you felt it.”

your breath catches, but you hold his gaze, refusing to back down. “and if i did?”

his smirk deepens, and he steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. “then we have a problem, don’t we?”

you’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly his lips are on yours, and the tension that’s been building between you snaps like a rubber band. his hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him as he kisses you—rough, demanding, and entirely consuming.

your back hits the table, scattering the neatly stacked documents, but you barely notice. his hands are everywhere, sliding up your thighs, tugging at the hem of your skirt.

“this is insane,” you manage between kisses, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

“probably,” he agrees, his voice low and raspy.

he lifts you onto the table, stepping between your legs as his lips trail down your neck. your head tilts back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his teeth graze your collarbone.

his hand slides under your skirt, pushing the fabric higher, and you arch into him, your body responding to every touch, every kiss.

“say it,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot and unsteady. “say what?” you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. “my name.”

“christopher,” you whisper, the word barely audible, but it’s enough to make him groan, his grip on you tightening. he moves with a confidence that leaves you breathless, his hands and lips working in tandem to unravel you completely. every kiss, every touch, every whispered word pulls you deeper into him, until nothing else exists but the two of you.

when it’s over, the room is silent save for your labored breaths. he pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his lips curving into a satisfied smile.

“you’re trouble,” he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement.

“so are you,” you reply, your lips brushing his as you speak.

he laughs softly, stepping back just enough to let you breathe, but his hands remain on your hips, anchoring you to him.

“welcome to the job,” he teases, his tone light but his eyes glistening with something dangerous. and that's when you know — this was only the beginning.

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

[sturn777]

brat!reader helps ceo!chris relax . | ( female!reader ) wc : 0.6k ( masterlist )

lana's note : this is lowk ass msorry guys ;( . i'll cook next time i promise . 🤞🏻

it’s late. the office is dim, the only light coming from the glow of the computer screen and the desk lamp chris has been staring at for hours. his shoulders are tense, his fingers typing furiously but not really getting anywhere. you’ve been here with him all night, offering to help, but chris is stubborn. he’s always stubborn.

you watch him for a while, knowing he’s stressed, knowing he’s overworked. he rubs his temples, his usual cocky demeanor gone—replaced with frustration.

you stand up, stretching your arms overhead, the movement catching his attention. you know exactly what he needs, and maybe it’s a little selfish, but you’re not going to leave him to suffer alone.

you walk over to him, leaning against the edge of his desk. “hey, you’re running on fumes,” you murmur, your fingers lightly brushing his arm. “let me help you relax a little.”

he looks up at you, his tired eyes darkening slightly as he watches you with a mix of curiosity and something else. something unspoken. “i’m fine,” he mutters, though his voice is thick, strained.

“no, you’re not,” you reply, bending down until you’re just inches from him. “let me take care of you, chris.”

there’s a long, tense moment before he lets out a frustrated sigh. “fuck it,” he growls, rubbing his face. “fine. but this is the last time.”

you smile, knowing full well it’s not. slowly, you drop to your knees in front of him, your hands gently undoing his pants. he doesn’t stop you. your fingers brush against the fabric, teasing the hard outline of him. he shifts in his seat, and you can feel his breath hitch.

“i need you,” he mutters under his breath, voice hoarse. “fuck, i need to relax so bad.”

you smirk up at him, your hands running over his thighs as you look up. “i’m here to help, chris,” you say sweetly. his breath hitches again, and before he can protest, you slowly take him into your mouth, your movements deliberate, slow.

his hand immediately shoots out to grip the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white. you feel his body tense as you take him deeper, humming softly as you feel him start to lose control.

“fuck,” he hisses, leaning back in his chair, his head tilted back. “so fucking good, just like that.”

you can tell he’s trying to hold back, but you keep your rhythm steady, the occasional soft moan of satisfaction from him only spurring you on. you know how much he’s been pushing himself, and this is the only way you can get him to fully relax.

his breathing quickens, and his grip on your hair tightens, forcing you to go faster. “you’re killing me, baby,” he mutters, his voice rougher now, as if he’s losing control entirely.

you pull away briefly, looking up at him with a sly grin. “not yet,” you whisper. you return to him, your pace quickening, plush lips wrapping around his length. watching the tension leave his body as he starts to lose himself completely.

a few more seconds, and you feel his body shudder under your touch. he lets out a deep groan, his hand fisting in your hair as he reaches his peak.

he pulls you up, his hand gently cupping your face as he kisses you deeply, almost desperately. when he pulls away, he looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“jesus,” he breathes, his voice still low and ragged. “that was what i needed.” you smile, wiping your mouth slowly. “glad i could help.”

he chuckles, but there’s something different about his smile now. more real. “i think i’m gonna start getting used to you doing this.”

you stand up, straightening your skirt and fixing your hair. “if you want me to keep helping, i’ll be here.” his eyes follow you as you stand, and there’s a flicker of something in his gaze. “i don’t think i’ll ever turn that down.”

and even though it’s late, and the office is silent again, you both know that tonight wasn’t over yet.

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

divider : @issysh3ll

[sturn777]

omgomg imagine theres some sort of formal event like a dinner party for the company, and ceo!chris takes another girl and is all lovey dovey w her or something. how would bratty!r react??

brat!reader gets jealous over ceo!chris . | ( female!reader ) wc ?? ( masterlist ) + ( request ) + ( angst if you squint rlly hard )

the event is fancy—the kind of thing that makes you feel way too underdressed even though your black dress fits perfectly, hugging all the right places. the tables are all white linens and silverware that sparkles under the chandeliers, and everyone’s pretending to have some high-class conversation while silently judging each other behind their glasses of wine.

and then there’s him.

christopher sturniolo, ceo, effortlessly charming as always. but tonight, he’s not his usual aloof, cocky self. he’s different.

he’s got his arm around her.

the girl—tall, blonde, and way too confident, her red dress fitting ridiculously well—leans into him, laughing loudly and a little too much, her fingers lingering too long on his arm. and there he is, smiling like an idiot, hand resting on her waist, practically melting under her touch. you feel your stomach twist.

you hate how much it bothers you, but you can’t help it. you can’t tear your eyes off them as they stand there, wrapped up in some bubble of flirty whispers and private jokes. the way his face softens when she talks to him, like really softens.

your fingers tighten around your glass, the ice clinking as you stare at them. he’s not even trying to hide it.

it’s not like you have any right to feel like this. he’s the ceo. he can do whatever the hell he wants. but the way he’s all over her tonight? it rubs you the wrong way. you catch his eye across the room, and he smirks, like he knows exactly what’s running through your mind. like he wants you to feel like this.

you throw him a glare that could kill, but he doesn’t even flinch. instead, he wraps his arm tighter around the girl, pulling her closer, whispering something in her ear. “good job, chris,” you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes and forcing yourself to look away.

the rest of the night is a blur. your patience runs thin, and you keep catching yourself glaring at the two of them when you think no one’s looking. every time you glance their way, he’s so into her. it’s dumb. really dumb that you even care.

the next day, the office is as normal as ever, except... it’s not.

you walk in, clipboard in hand, trying to push aside last night’s awkwardness, but there he is, sitting behind his desk like nothing happened. like you didn’t just watch him all over some other girl at that stupid dinner party.

he looks up from his laptop as you enter his office, his expression unreadable for a second before that cocky smirk of his flashes across his face. “morning,” he says, tone light, like he’s just waking up from a nap or something.

you don’t say anything right away, instead flipping through your papers and trying to calm your racing heart. you feel... off. the room is too quiet. too... normal. and it’s messing with your head.

he notices. of course, he does.

“everything okay?” he asks, voice too casual, like he hasn’t just been all over some other girl in front of you. you bite back a sigh, focusing on the papers in your hands. “yeah, everything’s fine.” but it’s not fine.

you hate how you’re feeling—stupid, jealous, petty. but it’s impossible to ignore. seeing him so wrapped up in someone else makes you feel like shit. he tilts his head, watching you for a second too long. his eyes narrow slightly. “you sure? you’re acting different.”

you almost laugh. acting different? you were just fine until he went and got all cozy with her — but you can’t admit that. you force a smile, the fakest one you’ve ever given. “just tired. long night.”

he raises an eyebrow. “hmm. i had a long night too, but you don’t see me acting weird.” he leans back in his chair, obviously enjoying this. you roll your eyes, shoving the papers into a folder. “i’m fine. really.”

he grins, the same playful, cocky grin from last night. and it makes your stomach churn again.

“well,” he says, standing up from his desk, “if you’re sure.” he walks around to your side, standing way too close, his body almost brushing against yours as he takes a step forward.

and then, without warning, he places a hand on the small of your back. your breath catches, the heat from his palm seeping through your shirt, making you feel a little too aware of him.

his voice is low, teasing. “maybe you’ll feel better if you really tell me what’s bothering you.” you turn to look at him, but before you can say anything, he steps back, looking entirely too innocent.

“i’ll be in my office. let me know when you’re ready to—”

“stop.”

your voice comes out sharper than you expected, and he stops mid-sentence, turning to look at you with that same smirk. “what?”

you take a small breath. “i don't want to talk about it, okay?”he raises an eyebrow, looking you over. “sure. but you know, there’s nothing wrong with being jealous.”

you blink, staring at him for a beat longer than necessary. “jealous?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper. he shrugs nonchalantly. “i mean, who wouldn’t be? i’m... me, after all.”

you turn away, not wanting to acknowledge how his words are hitting a little too close to home. you grab a random file from his desk just to avoid looking at him.

“whatever,” you mutter. “i’m here to work.”

and just like that, it’s back to business. but the tension between you two is too thick now. you’re both pretending like everything’s normal, but neither of you is fooling anyone.

taglist : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @flouqissss ; @st4rnlolo ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory ; @matttsangel ; @awnmaneez ; @heartss4clauu ; @mattsstarlet )

divider : @issysh3ll

[sturn777]

ceo!chris meets brat!reader for the first time . | ( female!reader ) wc ?? ( masterlist )

lana's note : this was inspired by @mattluvr 's ceo!matt au !! go check it out 🤍 .

you step into the building, a skyscraper that feels like its mocking you with its size. the lobby is all marble and glass, too sleek for your comfort. the elevator ride feels like forever, your heart pounding in your chest as you smooth your skirt for the hundredth time. the email said “business casual,” but now you’re wondering if the unbuttoned shirt and short skirt were pushing it. you adjust your glasses as the elevator dings, and the sleek, intimidating office floor comes into view.

a woman at the front desk gestures toward a glass door without even looking up, continuing to type away in her computer. “mr. sturniolo’s expecting you.” you take a deep breath, push the door open, and step into the office.

he’s behind a massive desk, head down, signing something. christopher sturniolo, 21-year-old ceo, heir to the company, nepo baby that barely shows up to work, and, apparently, a man who doesn’t believe in dress codes. his shirt is open at the collar, sleeves rolled up, tie loose around his neck.

“you’re early,” he says without looking up, his voice smooth, calm, and sharper than you’d expect. “on time, actually,” you correct, stepping closer. that gets his attention. he glances up, and his gaze is piercing, taking in everything—your outfit, your posture, the slight shift in your stance.

“punctuality is good,” he says, leaning back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “confidence is better. do you have both?”

“i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t,” you reply, keeping your voice steady. his smirk deepens, but his tone stays professional, measured. “let’s find out, then. sit.”

you lower yourself into the chair across from him, your back straight, hands clasped neatly in your lap. he doesn’t look at your resume, doesn’t even glance at the folder you set on his desk.

“tell me why you want this job,” he says, folding his hands under his chin. “i need it,” you reply simply. “i’m a full-time student, and the hours fit my schedule.”

“practical,” he muses, tilting his head slightly. “but practicality isn’t always enough. this position requires… adaptability. quick thinking. are you capable of that?”

“try me.”

his eyes narrow, and for a moment, it’s as if he’s genuinely intrigued. “bold answer,” he says, his tone laced with something almost teasing. “i like that. but this isn’t an easy job, and i’m not an easy boss.”

“i’m not looking for easy,” you counter.

his expression shifts slightly, and the teasing edge softens into something more thoughtful. he taps his fingers on the desk, considering you.

“you’re hired,” he says finally, sitting up straighter. “show up monday, 9 a.m. sharp. dress code is flexible, but don’t push it.” his gaze lingers, just enough to let you know he means it.

“thank you,” you say, standing.

he nods lazily in response, and you can feel his gaze on you as you walk out. that, and the sinking feeling that this job was going to be many things, but certainly not boring.

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

divider : @issysh3ll