#chris sturniolo soft

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤGRAMMYS 2025 * CHRIS STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N, worldwide famous singer, goes to the Grammys 2025 and brings Chris as her pair for the first time.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x singer!reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Y/N had been nominated for five Grammy Awards this year. Five. And yet, for some reason, the thought of stepping onto that carpet, under the flashing lights and watchful eyes of the entire world, made her more nervous than she’d ever been.

It wasn’t her first time - this was her fifth Grammy appearance - but the nerves never seemed to dull, no matter how many times she did this.

Her team had tried everything: chamomile tea, soothing massages, deep breathing exercises, playing her favorite calming playlist at a low volume in the background, even giving her a dozen of those custom-made chocolates with her face printed on them. But nothing helped. Not really.

Not even Chris’s kisses; though she had to admit, they were a very welcome distraction.

They were in a penthouse suite of a luxurious hotel in downtown Los Angeles, even though their house was barely a twenty-minute drive away. It was protocol, her team insisted. Every artist did it - getting ready in a hotel, away from distractions, with stylists, makeup artists, and PR people swarming around. It was meant to be a controlled environment, a perfectly curated lead-up to the biggest night in music. But it only added to the pressure.

Y/N stood in front of a massive floor-to-ceiling mirror, wrapped in a silk robe, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as a makeup artist blended soft eyeshadow onto her lids. Her hairstylist was behind her, curling strands of her hair into loose waves. She looked poised on the outside, but internally, her nerves were tying knots in her stomach.

Chris sat on the couch a few feet away, watching her intently. He was already dressed - black tux, crisp white shirt, and a bow tie he had spent fifteen minutes fighting with before her makeup artist took pity on him and fixed it for him.

He looked good.

Really good.

The kind of good that made her momentarily forget about the nerves. But she wasn’t the only one nervous tonight.

Chris had been jittery since this morning, though he tried not to show it. This was his first time attending something this big, this formal, and while he was used to attention, this was a whole new level. He was going to be surrounded by the most famous people in the world, and for the first time, he wasn’t just Chris Sturniolo, the YouTuber; he was Chris Sturniolo, Y/N’s date to the Grammys.

But instead of letting his own anxiety get to him, he focused on her, observing how her fingers twitched, manicured nails shining below the lights with every tremble.

"Baby." He cooed, standing and walking toward her as soon as the makeup artist stepped aside. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her exposed shoulder, his big hands finding home around her hips, squeezing the covered skin. "What are you feeling, huh? 'Can feel you stressing from across the room, doll."

Y/N sighed, her hands gripping the edges of the vanity table, being careful not to knock her knuckles against the three massive bouquets - Nick had arranged for all of them to be delivered straight to her room in that morning.

"I just... I don’t know, Chris." She murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I know I’ve done this before, but what if I don’t win anything? What if I disappoint everyone?"

Before she could spiral any further, Chris was already moving. His hands slid from her hips to her stomach, wrapping around her in a slow embrace. He pulled her against him, his chest firm against her back, the heat of his body seeping through the thin fabric of her robe.

"Hey." He whispered, lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "Don’t do that."

His voice was gentle but firm, a quiet command that sent a shiver down her spine. She felt his breath against her neck, warm and familiar, grounding her.

"First of all." He continued, his arms tightening around her middle. "You’re the best singer out of everyone in that room tonight. You know that, right?"

Her eyes rolled.

"Baby, you can't say that when Billie Eilish, Taylor Swift-" She started, turning her head slightly, but he was already shaking his head.

"Nope." He cut in, resting his chin in the curve of her neck, his gaze locking onto hers through the mirror. "I said what I said. And for the record." He added, voice lower now, dripping with conviction. "You’re already the winner of everything in my book. Even the categories you’re not nominated in."

She sighed, heart pounding as his hands splayed across her stomach, his thumbs brushing slow, absentminded circles.

"Best Album? Yours." He murmured, letting his lips ghost over her jaw. "Best Song? Yours." His mouth traveled down to her shoulder, barely pressing against her skin, yet setting every nerve ending alight. "Best Human Being to Ever Exist?" He turned his head just enough to meet her eyes in the mirror again, his smirk soft but teasing. "You, obviously."

She let out a small, shaky laugh.

"Chris-"

"I’m serious." He interrupted, turning his head and nuzzling the soft skin of her temple, inhaling the rich scent of her Givenchy perfume. "Your fans love you. I love you. And, babe, let’s be honest, you could drop a single of you just breathing into a mic, and it would still go platinum."

That made her laugh, her eyes rolling with amusement.

"You’re gonna do your best tonight, like you always do. And no matter what happens, I’ll be right there with you."

She finally turned in his hold, her arms looping around his neck and her red tinted lips forming a small pout.

"Even if I trip on the carpet?"

"I’ll trip with you. We’ll make it a trend." Chris grinned, pressing a lingering kiss to the tip of her nose, being excessively careful not to smudge her perfect makeup. "Now, I think there's a worldwide famous singer who should be getting dressed, huh?"

Y/N's eyes stared into blue ones for a moment, smiling with the softness she found in them.

"Yeah... Yeah, you're right."

A sharp knock at the door broke their haze, followed by a loud voice.

"Y/N!"

The voice was unmistakable, high-pitched and full of dramatic flair, and before Y/N could even turn, Harry Lambert had burst into the room, arms spread wide, eyes scanning her from head to toe with theatrical disbelief.

"Oh. My. GOD." He practically floated toward her, his hands fluttering in the air like he was physically trying to grasp the vision before him. "Darling, how dare you stand there looking this stunning before even getting into your dress?"

Y/N barely had time to react before he pulled her into a tight hug, arms wrapped around her like he hadn’t seen her in years - even though they had spoken just yesterday. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, holding her there for a beat longer than necessary, his touch radiating warmth and love.

"My baby girl." He cooed, pulling back slightly to cup her face. "How are we feeling? Nervous? Excited? On the verge of a breakdown?"

"All of the above." Y/N admitted, letting out a breathy laugh as he studied her with fondness.

Harry clicked his tongue.

"Well, you shouldn’t be, because you’re about to own this night. And if anyone so much as dares to breathe in your direction the wrong way, I will be throwing hands."

Chris chuckled from behind them.

"Good to see you, Harry."

"Christopher!" Harry turned to him with a dazzling smile, patting his chest in greeting before narrowing his eyes playfully. "The suit I chose for you was a very good choice, huh? Gucci looks good on you. Now, let’s be clear, your only job tonight is to stand there, look pretty, and worship Y/N like the goddess she is. Do you understand me?"

Chris raised his hands in surrender.

"Oh, trust me, I’ve been doing that since the second I met her."

Y/N felt her cheeks warm as Harry clapped his hands together.

"That’s my boy. Now, enough chit-chat! It is officially time to get my queen into the dress."

The entire room seemed to shift as the energy buzzed with anticipation. Y/N was ushered toward the dressing area, where the Gucci gown had been carefully laid out, glowing under the soft lights. Even without being worn, it commanded attention - the gold fabric shimmering as if infused with actual stardust, the dramatic ruffles sculpted to perfection.

As they helped her into it, every detail came to life. The strapless silhouette hugged her body in all the right places, the embedded crystals catching every flicker of light. The metallic sleeves, voluminous and artful, cascaded around her arms, while the matching ruffles at the bottom framed her steps with effortless grace.

When the final adjustments were made, Harry stepped back, his hands pressed to his chest as if he might faint.

"Oh, sweet heavens above." He whispered, looking genuinely overwhelmed. "I’ve outdone myself. We’ve outdone ourselves."

Chris, who had been sitting on the bed answering his brothers texts, looked up with Harry's voice, suddenly straightening up. His hands dropped to his lap, and his mouth hung open slightly, completely speechless.

"Wow." His voice came out strangled, like he had just been personally attacked.

Y/N turned toward him fully, the movement making the crystals on her dress shimmer, the light practically bending to her will. Chris visibly short-circuited.

"Are you- what- how-" He inhaled sharply, shaking his head as if trying to reboot his brain. "Nah. Nah. This isn’t fair. This should be illegal."

Y/N bit her lip, fighting a smile, but his reaction only got worse. His fingers threaded into his hair, his eyes raking over her from head to toe with pure, unfiltered obsession.

"Jesus fuck." He breathed out, voice a little rough. "You’re gonna kill me tonight, doll."

Harry smirked, tilting his head as he admired her.

"Oh, she’s not just going to kill you, Christopher. She’s going to kill everyone at the Grammys tonight. And I, for one, cannot wait to watch it happen."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The energy outside the venue was electric. Even from inside the tinted Range Rover, the deafening sound of flashing cameras and screaming paparazzi was unavoidable. Y/N shifted in her seat, inhaling slowly, feeling the vibration of the excitement just beyond the doors.

A hand suddenly slid over her thighs, warm and grounding, caressing the fabric of her dress.

"Ready?" Chris asked, his voice softer than the chaos outside.

Y/N turned to him, wetting her matte lipstick lips.

"Yeah." She breathed, even though her heart was hammering.

Chris smirked knowingly.

"Liar."

Before she could argue, the car door swung open, and an immediate wave of screams hit them like a storm.

Chris stepped out first, adjusting his suit as flashes exploded around him, the sound of his name already being yelled from every direction. He quickly moved around to face the inside of the car, offering his hand.

The second Y/N emerged, the chaos tripled.

"Y/N! Y/N! Over here!"

"Y/N! Christopher! Are you two official?"

"Y/N, do you think you’ll win tonight?"

Y/N barely flinched at the shouting - it was part of the job. Instead, she kept her chin high, gripping Chris’s hand as they made their way down the carpet. The venue was bathed in red and gold hues, a massive step-and-repeat wall covered in Grammy logos standing proudly ahead. The air buzzed with anticipation, celebrities lining the edges of the carpet, all waiting for their moment in front of the cameras.

A staff member approached, guiding them toward a designated spot.

"You first, Ms. Y/N." The woman instructed.

Chris gave Y/N a gentle squeeze before stepping aside, allowing her to take center stage.

And damn, did she own it.

The second she posed, the already flashing cameras seemed to explode.

The fitted, gold gown clung to her frame like liquid metal, sparkling under the lights. The voluminous, ruffled sleeves caught the air as she shifted her stance, making her look like some sort of celestial being - untouchable, ethereal. She turned her head smoothly, flashing a radiant smile as the photographers shouted for her attention.

Chris, standing just a few feet away, was not handling it well. His eyes never left her, completely entranced, like he was seeing her for the first time again, not even noticing the flashs directed to his figure.

Y/N, catching his expression, couldn’t help but smile shyly. She subtly tilted her head toward him between poses, raising a teasing brow.

Chris just shook his head, still gawking, before muttering under his breath.

"Jesus Christ."

The staff member signaled for Chris to approach Y/N for their couple photos. Y/N turned toward him, making a playful shooing motion with her hands as if to snap him out of his trance.

"Earth to Chris." She teased.

Chris didn’t respond - not verbally, at least. Instead, he stepped closer with large steps and grabbed her by the waist, carefully pulling her flush against him, careful with her heels but firm enough to steal a delighted gasp from her. The moment their bodies pressed together, the screams from the crowd outside the barricades and the clicking of cameras reached a new level of hysteria.

The cameras loved them.

Chris leaned in between shots, his lips brushing her ear.

"You think they got food inside?"

Y/N barely bit back a laugh, keeping her expression poised as she continued smiling for the cameras.

"What, you mean like caviar and tiny-ass lobster rolls?"

"I don’t care if it’s a plate of lettuce. I need to eat something before I pass out."

Y/N snorted softly with how dramatic he could be, bumping her hips against his just slightly, careful not to disrupt the pictures.

"You ate almost all of those chocolates back in the hotel. Where does it even go?"

Chris grinned, his fingers squeezing at her waist, effectively freezing her in place.

"Wouldn’t you like to know?"

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a giggle.

"Be serious, Sturniolo."

"I am serious." He looked at her then, really looked at her, and it sent something warm and electric curling down her spine. "You are so fucking beautiful, it’s actually stupid."

Y/N faltered for half a second, her breath catching, not from the flashing lights, not from the cameras, but from him.

Chris chuckled, clearly pleased her reaction.

"Want to give y'a post-celebration present so bad." His voice switched to low and airy, almost lost beneath the noise, but she heard it perfectly.

Y/N swallowed, her mind jumping to conclusions she probably shouldn’t be having on the Grammys red carpet.

"Hm, and what would that be?"

Chris smirked, his fingers flexing at her waist.

"Eat y’out."

Y/N kept her composure like a pro, smiling for the cameras with a practiced grin, but discreetly pressed her thighs together. Two could play this game.

But before she could fire back, a voice interrupted.

"Alright, guys! We need to move to the next area!"

Another event staff member gestured for them to proceed toward the interview section, their tone polite but firm. Y/N exhaled slowly, her heart thudding inside her ears.

Chris sighed dramatically, his grip on her waist tightening for just a second before he let go, traveling up to her hand.

"And here I was, thinking we could just stay here all night."

Y/N squeezed his fingers, tugging him forward.

"Come on, you menace."

As they walked toward the interview zone, the setup became clearer - a sleek, well-lit platform lined with various media outlets, each interviewer eagerly awaiting their next celebrity guest. But before Y/N could even register who was up next, a familiar voice rang out, unmistakably enthusiastic.

"Y/N, oh my God! Get over here!"

Emma Chamberlain.

Y/N's face lit up immediately, and without hesitation, she pulled Chris along, their hands still intertwined as they made a beeline toward Emma. The internet personality-turned-Grammys correspondent was practically bouncing on her heels, her eyes wide with excitement.

As soon as they reached her, Emma lifted her microphone with dramatic flair.

"Ladies and gentlemen, five-time Grammy-nominated Y/N L/N, everyone!"

Y/N laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"No way you just said that like an awards show host."

Emma grinned.

"I am an awards show host." Then, turning to Chris, she playfully narrowed her eyes. "And, of course, let’s not forget the man of the hour, Chris Sturniolo!"

Chris chuckled, giving a small wave, the silver ring on his index finger glinting against the camera flash.

"That’s me."

Emma wasted no time diving into questions, her energy infectious.

"Okay, first things first, how are you feeling?" She pointed the mic toward Y/N.

Y/N exhaled, a bright smile still gracing her lips.

"Honestly? I’m just... I don’t even know how to put it into words. Happy? Grateful? In shock? All of it at once?" She shook her head in disbelief. "I mean, the Grammys. It’s something you dream about as a kid, you know? And now, five nominations? I feel like I need someone to pinch me."

Chris gently squeezed her hand, leaning in slightly so his mouth was close to the mic, his cheek brushing hers in the process.

"Not gonna lie, I did pinch her earlier to check."

Y/N playfully swatted at him, making Emma laugh.

"Alright, but tell me everything. What were you doing when you found out you were nominated?"

At this, Y/N turned to Chris, already laughing.

"Oh my God, it was chaos."

Chris grinned, nodding while brushing his messy hair back.

"Totally."

Y/N faced Emma again, still giggling.

"Okay, so we were just in the living room, me, Chris, Matt, and Nick. It was so casual, literally just us eating burgers, watching the nominations roll in on TV, not thinking much of it."

Emma’s eyes widened.

"Wait, so you weren’t even refreshing Twitter like a maniac?"

"No!" Y/N shook her head. "I swear, I wasn’t even expecting anything. And then, boom. My name gets called for the first nomination, and I just screamed."

"Nick screamed, too." Chris jumped in, laughing.

Emma gasped.

"Nick would."

Y/N nodded rapidly.

"He did! So then, Chris kisses me, Matt’s literally jumping up and down, and it was just full-on mayhem. But then, like, a minute later, my name gets called again for another nomination."

Chris smirked, nodding his head.

"And again. And again."

Emma covered her mouth, delighted.

"So by the fifth time-"

"I was crying." Y/N admitted, grinning. "Like, full-on sobbing in Chris’s arms."

Emma dramatically put her free hand against her heart.

"This is what I live for." Then, turning to Chris, she grinned mischievously. "Alright, your turn, Sturniolo."

Chris blinked, looking at Y/N before going back to Emma.

"Me?"

Emma nodded, dead serious.

"Yes, you. Because I know you, you act all cool and chill, but I know you were losing your mind when she got nominated."

Chris laughed, shaking his head.

"I mean, yeah, obviously. I was going crazy. But I think it really hit me when I looked at her during the last nomination and realized, this is actually happening. Like, she’s that talented. The world is seeing what I already knew."

Y/N felt her face heat up, a mix of emotions swirling in her chest.

Emma pouted.

"Chris, that's so wholesome. You’re really that boyfriend, huh?"

Chris shrugged, squeezing Y/N’s hand.

"I mean, yeah. Have you met her?"

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, but her smile didn’t fade.

"I know, right?" Emma nodded at Chris's direction, laughing with Y/N's reaction. "Now, tell me, which nomination are you most excited about?"

Y/N didn’t even hesitate.

"Song of the Year."

Emma’s brows lifted.

"Because...?"

Y/N took a breath, her fingers unconsciously tightening around Chris’s hand.

"Because the song nominated for that category is Lavender Haze, and that song... it just means so much to me." She glanced at Chris, her expression softer now.

Emma’s eyes darted between the two of them, her curiosity sparking instantly. She glanced at Y/N, then at Chris, before turning toward the camera with exaggerated wide eyes.

"Ohhh, I know that look." She teased, pointing between them with a knowing grin. "Okay, spill, tell me about the song."

Y/N let out a breathy laugh with how eager she sounded, meeting Emma’s gaze again.

"You'll know all about it if I win." She winked, her tone warm.

Chris was quick to approach the microphone again.

"Not if, when."

Emma tilted her head, frowning as a pout grew on her lips.

"No way you're going to leave me with this curiosity." She sighed dramatically. "I guess I'll need to watch the awards with double attention." Emma winked to the camera. "Okay, I’m obsessed with you guys. This is too cute. But I won’t keep you any longer, go enjoy your night! And, Y/N, fingers crossed for all five wins!"

Y/N beamed, giving Emma one last hug before she and Chris were guided to the next section of the event. As they walked, the lights of the Grammys venue shining ahead, Chris leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear.

"You’re killing it, doll."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The moment Y/N and Chris stepped into the grand main salon, the shift in the atmosphere was almost physical. The flashing lights of the red carpet were behind them, replaced by the elegant glow of chandeliers and the soft hum of conversation. Celebrities, industry giants, and music legends filled the expansive room, dressed in their finest, the air buzzing with anticipation.

A staff member immediately approached them with a warm smile, gesturing toward their assigned table.

"Good evening, Ms. L/N, Mr. Sturniolo. Right this way, please."

As they walked through the lavishly decorated space, Y/N’s fingers instinctively tightened around Chris’s hand, her nerves still tingling with the knowledge that the biggest names were around her.

Halfway to their table, a familiar voice called out from the side.

"Chris! No way- dude!"

Chris turned toward the sound, a grin instantly spreading across his face when he saw Troye Sivan standing up from his table, waving him over.

Troye had met Chris and his brothers just two weeks ago at a Prada fashion show, and the energy between them had been instantly chill and friendly.

"Troye, hey, what’s up, man?" Chris greeted as he pulled him in for a quick hug.

Meanwhile, Y/N turned toward Sabrina Carpenter, who was seated beside Troye in the most ethereal baby blue dress, its delicate fabric flowing like water over her frame.

"Sabrina, hi!" Y/N greeted, her voice lighting up as she fully took in the details of her look. "Wow, you look absolutely stunning. Like, actually unreal."

Sabrina’s eyes widened for a split second, surprise flashing across her face before it melted into the sweetest, most genuine smile. Without a second thought, she pushed herself up from her seat, reaching for Y/N as if they were lifelong friends and pulling her into a warm, affectionate hug. She squeezed tightly, her energy radiating pure kindness.

"Oh my god, stop." Sabrina gushed, pulling back just enough to look at Y/N, her hands still resting gently on her arms. "That means the world coming from you. And please, look at you!" She emphasized, eyes scanning Y/N from head to toe with genuine admiration. "You look like an actual goddess."

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head as she absentmindedly smoothed her hands over the golden fabric of her dress.

"It’s all Lambert’s magic." She admitted with a playful grin, referring to her trusted stylist. Then, with a spark of excitement, she added. "I heard you’re performing tonight, I cannot wait to see it!"

Sabrina practically bounced in place, her excitement just as contagious.

"Oh, that makes me so nervous but also so happy." She admitted with a laugh, her hands clasping together. "I just hope I don’t trip or something."

Y/N shook her head instantly.

"No way, you’re going to kill it. I already know it."

Chris and Troye exchanged a few more words, something about how amazing the Prada show had been and how they should schedule to do something together in the future, before Chris gave him a casual pat on the shoulder.

"We’ll catch up later, yeah? We gotta find our table before they go live."

Troye grinned.

"For sure. Enjoy the night, guys."

After one last big smile at Sabrina, Y/N slipped her hand back into Chris’s as they navigated through the room.

Their table was positioned with a perfect view of the stage, the paper cards on their seats spelling out their names in black ink below a selected picture of their faces.

As they sat down, Y/N exhaled, glancing up at the stage. A quick glance at the massive countdown screen told her they had ten minutes before the live broadcast began.

"Damn." She muttered, leaning toward Chris. "Didn’t even realize how much time passed outside."

Chris chuckled, his voice low.

"That’s ‘cause you were too busy looking hot and stealing everyone’s attention."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the amused smile that tugged at her lips.

"Come'ere, babe." He asked, extending his arm in her direction, asking silently for her to move closer.

Her eyes sparkled with affection, and she shifted her chair slightly, moving closer to Chris until she was practically pressed against his side. Without hesitation, he wrapped his extended arm around her upper body, pulling her in securely. The warmth of his body mixed with the familiarity of his presence was grounding and comforting.

Chris pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

Y/N tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes shining under the dimmed chandeliers.

"Thank you." She whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the room.

Chris furrowed his brows slightly, looking down at her, their faces so close he could feel her warm breath hitting his chin.

"For what?"

"For being here with me. For always being here for me."

His gaze softened immediately, and the way he looked at her - so full of quiet devotion - made her heart swell.

"Forever, baby." He murmured, squeezing her gently.

Before Y/N could say anything else, a new voice cut into their moment.

"Excuse me, I hope I’m not interrupting anything."

The voice was warm, familiar, and utterly unmistakable.

Both Y/N and Chris turned toward the sound, and in an instant, Y/N felt the entire world freeze. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttered, and for a brief, terrifying moment, she wondered if she had actually left her body.

Because standing there, just a few feet away, in all her effortless, golden-lit, legendary glory, was Taylor Swift.

Taylor Swift.

Y/N swore she could hear the heavens parting and angels singing in the background.

Taylor was an absolute vision in a stunning, strong red mini dress, her signature red lip effortlessly bold, her blonde hair framing her face in soft waves.

And she was smiling - smiling - at her.

"Oh my god." Y/N blurted out, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could even attempt to reel them back in.

Taylor let out a soft laugh as she shook her head lightly, eyes twinkling.

"I just wanted to say that I’m such a huge fan of your work. Lavender Haze is absolutely everything."

Y/N felt her soul leave her body.

Her brain quite literally short-circuited. Because- because what?

Taylor Swift, the Taylor Swift, her biggest inspiration, her songwriting idol, just complimented her music?

There was a very real possibility that she had just blacked out.

Chris shifted slightly beside her, maintaining his arm above the back of her chair, obviously trying so hard not to burst out laughing at how starstruck she looked.

Somehow, somehow, Y/N managed to keep her expression together, even though her heart was doing full-blown Olympic-level gymnastics in her chest.

"That means everything coming from you." She breathed, every word laced with pure, raw sincerity. "Thank you so, so much."

Taylor’s smile only widened, like she could feel how much those words meant to Y/N.

"Seriously." She said, her voice warm and genuine. "I’ve been listening to it on repeat. You’re insanely talented. The way you crafted that song... you have such a gift."

Y/N felt an actual tear prick at the corner of her eye. She wanted to scream. She wanted to hug her. She wanted to tattoo this moment onto her soul and never forget it.

And then, as if she couldn’t possibly adore her any more, Taylor turned to Chris, offering him the same bright, kind smile.

"And of course, you." She said, her tone playful but just as sincere. "I love what you and your brothers are doing on YouTube. It’s always fun seeing people bring fresh energy to the space."

Chris looked genuinely taken aback for a moment. His eyebrows lifted slightly, and for the first time, Y/N saw a flicker of oh wow, this is real life in his expression.

"That’s- wow, okay, that’s crazy." He said, running a hand through his hair with an incredulous chuckle. "Thank you, that’s- man, that’s insane coming from you."

Taylor grinned, her hand gently squeezing Y/N’s shoulder, grounding her back to reality.

"I won’t keep you guys." She said softly. "I just wanted to say that. Hope you both have the best night."

And just like that, she turned, walking back toward her table.

For a long, stunned second, Y/N just stood there, processing what had just happened. Then, with wide eyes, she turned to Chris, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Did that just happen?"

Chris, still looking way too amused, nodded, his grin stretching across his face.

"Yup." He confirmed. "And you just casually had a conversation with Taylor Swift like it was nothing."

Y/N let out a sharp exhale, pressing her hands over her face.

"I need a second."

Chris laughed, and before she could even register it, he was wrapping both arms around her, pulling her in tightly, his face pressing against her hair.

"Proud of you, popstar." He murmured, his voice laced with nothing but warmth.

Before she could respond, the lights dimmed, and the energy in the room shifted as a voice echoed through the speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your host for the 67th Annual Grammy Awards, Trevor Noah!"

A roar of cheers erupted as the towering LED screens flanking the stage flickered to life, displaying Trevor Noah’s wide, mischievous grin. He strolled onto the main floor rather than standing on the stage, seamlessly blending into the sea of round tables where the biggest names in the industry were seated.

He adjusted the microphone in his hand, letting the applause die down just enough before flashing a knowing smirk.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen." He began, his smooth voice carrying through the arena. "This is it, the 67th Grammys! Music’s biggest night! The Super Bowl for people who cried to Folklore, danced to Beyoncé, and worked out to Travis Scott, all in the same day!"

Laughter rippled through the crowd as the camera panned to a few artists nodding dramatically in agreement.

"And listen, let’s be honest. The Grammys are basically just a really fancy dinner party where we all pretend we haven’t been stalking the winners list since yesterday." Another wave of laughter followed. "But tonight... tonight, we are celebrating the best of the best in music. The songs that made us scream in our cars, the albums that made us question our entire existence, and the artists who consistently ruin our Spotify Wrapped every year."

Trevor began walking casually between the round tables, grinning as he looked around at the audience.

"And let’s not forget the real stars of the night, the seating arrangements. Have you seen these tables? It’s like the ultimate Hunger Games. You got legends, you got rookies, and you got the poor artists who are just hoping they don’t get caught in an awkward cutaway during a joke."

The camera zoomed in on a few newer artists laughing nervously, earning a chuckle from the crowd.

Trevor continued weaving his way through the tables, his eyes scanning the sea of music’s biggest names.

"And speaking of icons." He said, stopping by a particular table. "Tonight, we have the one and only Y/N L/N with us!"

The moment her name left his lips, the entire arena erupted into cheers. The camera cut to Y/N’s table, her face instantly lighting up with a radiant smile. Chris grinned smugly as he watched her soak in the moment.

Y/N turned slightly to face the camera that was now focused on her, offering a soft wave. The massive screen above the stage displayed a live feed of her, the applause continuing as Trevor beamed.

"Now, listen, if you somehow missed it, Y/N is up for five nominations tonight!" Trevor announced, pointing at her with mock emphasis. "Five nominations, guys. For songs and the album she announced when she won last year. That’s how much of a legend she is."

Y/N let out a soft laugh, her cheeks warming as she watched herself on the big screen. The camera panned slightly to Chris, who was nodding with a smug expression, as if silently agreeing with every word Trevor was saying.

"Plus." Trevor continued, stepping closer to their table. "If Y/N wins tonight, she could be the first artist ever to win Album of the Year five times."

Gasps and cheers rippled through the audience, while Y/N’s smile grew impossibly wider.

"Which means, she would break the record of four wins set all the way back in 2024 by-" Trevor raised his free hand, making a show of pretending to check an invisible list on his palm. "Y/N L/N!"

The entire room erupted into even louder applause, whistles echoing through the space as Trevor dramatically motioned toward her again.

Y/N's eyebrows flew up, feigning surprise, trying to contain her giddiness while Chris chuckled beside her, mouthing 'that's my girl' to a camera pointing his way.

Trevor placed a hand on his hip, looking toward the camera with mock exasperation.

"So basically, Y/N is out here breaking her own records. Just casually deciding that four wins aren’t enough and going for five. That’s like running a marathon, winning, and then saying, 'You know what? Let’s do it again, backwards'."

More laughter filled the room, Y/N pressing a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling too much. Trevor grinned, looking at her one last time.

"Listen, Y/N, whatever happens tonight, you’re already a legend. But if you win that fifth Grammy, just promise me you won’t announce another album mid-acceptance speech. Give the rest of the industry a fighting chance, okay?"

Y/N laughed, shaking her head, and Chris patted her thigh under the table, looking thoroughly entertained.

Trevor winked before turning back to the audience, raising his mic once again.

"Alright, let’s get this incredible night started! We’ve got performances, surprises, and probably a few moments that’ll break the internet. Let’s do this!"

The crowd roared as the cameras pulled away, cutting to a sleek transition video, signaling the official start of the show. Y/N exhaled, stealing a glance at Chris, who simply grinned and pulled her back to his chest, pressing his lips against her cheek.

"You’re so winning tonight."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The moment the last notes of Birds of a Feather echoed through the grand hall, Y/N felt like she was floating. Billie Eilish had just delivered one of the most breathtaking performances she had ever seen, and she could still feel the goosebumps lingering on her arms.

She turned to Chris, her eyes shining with excitement, her heart still beating to the rhythm of the song.

"Billie is unreal." She gushed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Like, every time she performs, it’s like she’s singing straight to my soul."

Chris let out a chuckle, his arm draped lazily around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"Nick would actually kill to be here right now." His lips quirked up in amusement. "I bet he’s texting us like a mad man."

Y/N laughed softly, already imagining Nick’s all-caps messages blowing up their group chat. But before she could even think of checking, the stage lights dimmed slightly, and the screens around the venue shifted. A familiar melody played in the background as a figure gracefully stepped onto the stage. The chatter in the audience softened as people turned their attention to her.

Taylor Swift.

Y/N straightened in her seat, her heart picking up speed.

Chris immediately caught the change in her posture and smirked.

"Oh shit." He teased, giving her shoulder a little squeeze. "Your idol is speaking. Do you need me to hold you so you don’t pass out?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling in her chest.

Taylor approached the microphone with that effortless charm that made the entire room fall silent. She smiled warmly, tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear before speaking.

"Good evening, everyone." She greeted, her voice carrying easily through the venue. "Tonight has been incredible so far, and I am so honored to be here presenting this next award."

Y/N opened a genuine smile, squeezing Chris's thigh below her fingers.

"Album of the Year is such a special award because it represents not just music, but stories. It’s about the albums that stayed with us, that shaped our emotions, our memories. The ones that became the soundtrack to our lives." Taylor continued, her expression softening as she held up the envelope. "And with that being said, the Grammy goes to..."

She slid her fingers under the flap and carefully pulled out the card, unfolding it with precision.

Y/N could feel Chris’s arms tighten around her. His body heat a cocoon around her own as she clutched onto him, her pulse thundering in her temple.

A second of silence stretched. Then Taylor’s eyes scanned the paper, and the biggest, brightest smile took over her face. Her gaze lifted, seemingly searching the crowd for someone.

Y/N furrowed her brows slightly.

Taylor found her.

And then, with a warmth that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine, Taylor announced.

"Y/N L/N, Midnights."

The world tilted.

For a solid moment, Y/N didn’t move. She couldn’t move. The air in her lungs disappeared, her vision blurred instantly with unshed tears, and her mouth fell open in pure, unfiltered shock, her hands hovering near her mouth, trembling as realization crashed into her like a tidal wave.

Album of the Year.

She won.

She won.

Chris, on the other hand, reacted immediately.

"YES!" He shouted, his voice cutting through the noise as he punched the air, his excitement completely unfiltered. People turned, smiling, laughing, but Chris didn’t care. His hands were already on Y/N, his eyes scanning her face.

She wasn’t breathing.

"Babe." His voice softened instantly as he leaned in, his forehead almost touching hers. "Hey, you did it."

Y/N sucked in a sharp, shaky breath, but it wasn’t enough. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over before she could stop them, her body shaking with the force of emotions she had no chance of containing.

A broken sob escaped her lips.

Chris pulled her in before she could crumple, wrapping her up in the kind of hug that blocked everything else out. His arms were warm, steady, his lips pressing against her forehead as he whispered, his voice firm this time.

"You did it."

Y/N let out a wet laugh against his shoulder, her fingers clutching onto him for just a second longer before she finally let go.

He gently lowered his head, making sure she looked at him.

And God, the way he was looking at her.

Like she had just built the entire universe with her bare hands.

"Go get your Grammy, winner." He murmured, the words slow and soft and filled with everything.

Y/N let out another broken breath, nodding before finally, finally turning toward the stage.

The journey to the top felt surreal, like she was floating. The cheers, the applause, the faces she recognized - people she had idolized - they all blurred together.

And then suddenly, she was there.

Standing at the top.

Face to face with Taylor Swift.

Who was smiling at her, waiting for her, Grammy in hand.

Y/N’s breath hitched all over again.

Her hands, still unsteady, reached out, fingers closing around the golden gramophone. The weight of it sent a whole new wave of emotions crashing into her.

Before she could even process what was happening, Taylor pulled her into a hug - tight, warm, real.

"Congratulations." Taylor whispered against her ear, and god, if that wasn’t the most surreal moment of Y/N’s entire life. "You deserve this so much."

A choked noise left Y/N’s lips as she nodded weakly, her throat too tight to speak.

She deserved this.

She deserved this.

Her fingers traced over the Grammy, like she needed physical proof that it was real before she finally turned to the microphone.

She inhaled deeply. Opened her mouth.

"I-I don’t even know what to say right now." She admitted, biting her bottom lip. "I’m- god, I’m just so honored."

The crowd cooed, and Y/N let out a breathless laugh of her own, shaking her head as more tears slipped down her cheeks.

"This is insane." She said, shaking her head slightly. "Being nominated in this category, alongside so many incredible artists, artists I’ve admired for years, was already more than I could’ve ever dreamed of. To even stand beside you all tonight, to celebrate music with you? That was already everything."

Her chest rose and fell as she blinked away the heat gathering behind her eyes, sweeping her gaze across the crowd.

"I have to thank my incredible producer, my team, every single person who helped bring this album to life." Her voice wavered, thick with emotion. "You guys took my wild, messy ideas and turned them into something real, something that I never could have done alone. And I will never stop being grateful."

She wet her lips, inhaling deeply before her smile stretched just a little wider.

"My fans..." Her voice caught slightly, her hand pressing over her heart. "You guys have given me everything. You’ve let me tell my stories, and you’ve listened over and over and over again. You’ve made this dream of mine possible, and I love you more than I can ever put into words."

The cheers swelled again, voices from every corner of the room shouting her name. Her grip on the Grammy tightened as she shifted her weight slightly.

"To my family, Matt and Nick, my biggest cheerleaders." She laughed softly, looking at the main camera pointing at her. "I love you guys, you already know that."

And then, as if the moment had been waiting for this, her gaze lifted to him. Her breath hitched, lips curling into a smile that was just for him.

"And lastly." She said, her voice softer now. "To my boyfriend, Chris."

A ripple of excitement spread through the audience, but Y/N didn’t hear it. Not when those impossibly blue eyes were locked onto hers, not when his expression softened with something so tender, so proud, it made her knees weak.

"Thank you for being the creative genius that you are." She said, eyes never leaving his. "For staying up with me in the studio when I couldn’t figure out the right melody, even when I was on hour ten of tweaking the same one."

Laughter rolled through the room, and Chris grinned, shaking his head.

"For never doubting me." She continued, her throat tightening. "Even when I doubted myself. For being my biggest supporter. My muse. Every song, every lyric... You are in all of them.”

Chris exhaled sharply, his jaw tensing, his hand pressing over his heart as if feeling her love for him.

"Thank you." She finished simply, her voice steady, full of everything she couldn’t quite put into words.

The applause was deafening. A roar of cheers, of love, of celebration.

But all Y/N could hear was the thundering of her own heart.

This was real.

She had just won Album of the Year for the fifth time in a row.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The massive screens on either side of the stage illuminated with Trevor Noah’s face again as he took the microphone, now standing above all of them, his signature charm radiating through the room.

"Alright, people." He started, a knowing smirk on his lips. "This is it, one of the most expected award of the night. Song of the Year."

The audience erupted into applause, a tangible wave of excitement washing over the room.

Y/N could barely hear it. Her entire body felt like it was wound up in a coil, so tight that she might snap. Her heart pounded mercilessly against her ribcage as she focused on the only thing grounding her - Chris’s hand wrapped tightly around hers.

She could feel the heat of his palm, the way his fingers curled firmly around hers, almost as if he knew she needed the anchor.

Trevor continued, his voice filling the grand space.

"Now, we all know Song of the Year isn’t just about a hit track. It’s about storytelling. It’s about lyrics that mean something that connects with people, that makes you feel something in your soul."

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut for a second. God, she felt like she was going to throw up.

Chris, meanwhile, kept his eyes locked on the stage, his jaw set, body tense. His grip on her hand tightening, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand once - just once - as if silently telling her, I’ve got you.

Trevor continued listing the nominees, their song snippets playing softly over the speakers, but Y/N’s mind was a blur. The only thing she could feel was her heartbeat hammering violently inside her chest.

She could barely hear Trevor’s next words over the rush of blood in her ears.

"And the Grammy goes to..."

A dramatic pause.

It felt endless. It felt cruel.

Y/N finally lifted her head, eyes darting to the stage.

Trevor’s gaze swept across the room before his smile widened.

"Y/N L/N, Lavender Haze!"

The room erupted. Applause, cheers bouncing off the walls, her own voice echoing from the speakers, but Y/N barely registered any of it.

Her breath hitched, her entire body jerking forward as if her heart had physically pulled her out of her seat. Her hands flew to her face, pressing against her eyes, trying to contain the overwhelming rush of emotions slamming into her all at once.

Oh, god. Oh, god.

Chris was already moving before she could even think. His chair scraped back, his arms were on her in an instant, pulling her up, grounding her before she could float away in all of this.

"Oh my god." The words tumbled out of her, barely a whisper against her palms, her chest rising and falling too quickly to keep up.

Chris didn’t hesitate. His arms wrapped around her tightly, anchoring her, holding her so close she could feel his heartbeat against hers.

"I am so fucking proud of you." His voice was right against her ear, steady, sure. "You are everything, baby."

That was it. That was what made the tears slip free.

But Chris didn’t let her hide.

With infinite tenderness, he pulled her hands away from her face, his thumbs sweeping over her damp cheeks. Then, before she could even catch her breath, he cupped her jaw and kissed her, firm, lingering, so full of love that everything else around them faded into nothing.

The crowd reacted instantly - cheers, whistles, camera flashes exploding in rapid succession - but Y/N only felt him.

When he pulled back, his hand found the small of her back, keeping her close, his face glowing with pride.

"Go get your second Grammy, superstar."

She exhaled shakily, nodding as she turned toward the stage for the second time in that night.

With each step, she forced herself to breathe.

In.

Out.

The massive gold-lettered GRAMMY AWARDS logo towered behind Trevor as he extended the award toward her, his smile warm and genuine.

"Y/N, congratulations." He said, offering a short but meaningful handshake.

Y/N took the Grammy statue with slightly trembling hands, whispering.

"Thank you so much." Before stepping toward the microphone.

As she turned, facing the sea of the world’s most influential artists, the weight of the moment finally settled on her. She was with her second award in her hands.

She barely had time to process it before her gaze instinctively found Chris.

He was standing at their table, hands tucked into his pants pockets, eyes locked onto hers. And when she hesitated, nerves bubbling up again, he gave her the smallest nod.

A simple movement.

But one that made her chest ache in the best way.

Y/N exhaled, adjusting her grip on the award.

"I- uh, I think I blacked out for a second there."

The room laughed, the tension easing instantly.

Y/N smiled, shaking her head.

"I genuinely don’t even know where to start. Again. This... this is insane."

She swallowed, her grip tightening on the Grammy as she steadied herself. The applause had started to fade, giving her space to speak, but her mind was still spinning.

"Lavender Haze is about love." She let the words settle, looking down for a brief moment before lifting her gaze straight to him. "The kind of love that blocks out the noise. The kind that just is, no matter what’s said, no matter what’s assumed. The kind that’s real."

Chris’s expression didn’t change, but she saw it, the slight shift in his jaw, the way his fingers curled against his palm, like he was physically stopping himself from reacting too much. From crumbling, maybe.

"This song wouldn’t exist without that love." Y/N wet her lips, heart hammering. "Without him."

A murmur rippled through the audience. People turned toward Chris, whose head finally dropped for half a second, his tongue running over his bottom lip before he glanced back up at her.

Y/N barely heard the movement. Barely noticed the cameras zooming in on them, barely cared about the entire world watching, because this wasn’t for them.

"This music is for you, Chris." Her voice was softer now, but no less sure. "And about you. And because of you."

Chris inhaled sharply, his chest rising with the movement. He was blinking faster now, his lips parting slightly, his entire body still, like if he moved, even a little, he’d break.

"You have been my safe place in ways I never even thought possible." Y/N continued, her voice thick with emotion. "You have shown me love in a way that makes the rest of the world fade out. And I wrote this because I needed people to hear what that feels like."

A pause.

Chris pressed his knuckles against his mouth, his gaze locked onto her like she had gravity itself wrapped around her fingers.

"So, I don’t need to thank anyone else for this." Y/N said simply, shaking her head. "This is you. This was always you."

The room was silent.

The world was silent.

Then, like a tidal wave, the applause crashed back over the moment, a roar of cheers and shouts as the weight of her words settled over the audience.

Chris didn’t move.

Didn’t clap.

Didn’t even breathe for a second.

He just looked at her with the most bright blue eyes.

She nodded, finally stepping back from the mic, Trevor clapping beside her before escorting her off stage.

And the second she made it back to her table, Chris was there.

Before she could even react, he pulled her against him, lips finding hers in a way that had the cameras flashing wildly, had people cooing, but none of it mattered.

Because for Y/N, all that existed was him.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Five nominations.

Five won awards.

She did it.

She had won five Grammys tonight.

She still couldn’t fully process it.

The air outside the main salon was crisp with the late-night chill, but Y/N barely felt it. The sheer exhaustion in her limbs, the dull ache in her feet from hours in high heels, and the weight - both literal and emotional - of the five golden Grammys in her hands left her in a haze.

Chris walked beside her, just as tired, but his expression was still warm with lingering pride. His free hand held two of her awards, his fingers occasionally brushing against hers as they made their way toward the grey wall - the makeshift backdrop set up just for the winners to take their photos.

Y/N’s sharp eyes were quick to spot something - or rather, someone - familiar.

Cole Walliser. The photographer behind every iconic Glambot moment and best photographs at major award shows.

The moment Cole noticed her, his face lit up in recognition, and he immediately called out.

"Y/N! Oh my god, look at these babies!" He gestured toward her stack of trophies, shaking his head in disbelief. "Get over here. You already know the drill!"

Y/N laughed, already making her way toward him, Chris trailing behind her with a wide smile.

"Oh, I think I remember it."

Cole smirked, playing along.

"Yeah? You sure about that? Feels like I’ve only filmed you a dozen times or so."

"Something like that." She teased before gesturing toward Chris with her head. "Brought a friend this time."

Chris scoffed, giving her the most offended look.

"Friend my ass."

Y/N burst into laughter, nudging him playfully, while Cole chuckled at their dynamic.

"Alright, what’s the game plan? We need to show these off."

Y/N barely had time to respond before Chris was already moving, helping her adjust the awards so she could hold them all without them toppling over.

"Wait, wait, here, give me that one." His voice was soft, concentrated, as he carefully restacked them, his touch both gentle and efficient. "Alright, you good? You got ‘em?"

She let out a breathy laugh, adjusting her grip.

"Yeah, I think so."

Cole grinned, stepping back to gesture toward the marked spot in front of the camera.

"Perfect, then. Right this way, Ms. Sturniolo."

Y/N choked on a laugh, and Chris practically beamed.

"Ms. Sturniolo, huh?" Chris turned to her, eyes shining with excitement, his grip on her lower back tightening slightly as he guided her onto the designated Glambot mark. "I like the sound of it."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her laughter betrayed how much she loved seeing him so giddy.

"Don’t let it get to your head, Mr. Sturniolo."

Chris grinned.

"Oh, it’s already there."

As Cole called out instructions, Chris stepped back, giving her space, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he lingered off to the side, watching her with the biggest, most heart-wrenchingly proud smile on his face.

Y/N could feel his gaze on her as she smiled to Cole’s moving camera. She tilted her head, posing slightly, but every time she caught Chris’s eyes in the background, her lips twitched into a barely-contained grin.

She couldn’t help it.

This moment was surreal.

She was standing there, arms full of Grammys, while her person stood just a few feet away, looking at her like she had hung the damn stars in the sky.

After a few more clicks, she shifted the weight of the awards in her arms before looking toward Waliser.

"Can we do one with Chris?" She asked, glancing between the camera and Chris himself.

Cole barely hesitated, quickly nodding.

"Oh, absolutely! Christopher, hop in!"

Chris blinked.

"Oh, I mean- I wasn’t-"

"Oh, shut up and get over here." Y/N teased, a playful glint in her tired eyes.

Chris huffed a soft chuckle before stepping forward, standing beside her as she started redistributing the awards.

"Here." She murmured, placing two specific trophies into his hands.

Song of the Year and Album of the Year.

Chris furrowed his brows slightly, glancing down at the awards before looking back at her.

"Doll-"

"These two." She said softly, eyes locking onto his. "I only got because of you."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his fingers tightening around the trophies instinctively.

"Y/N-"

"Just hold them with me." She whispered, nudging him gently.

Chris exhaled through his nose, his lips pressing into a thin line before he gave in, nodding as they both turned to face the camera.

Cole then gave play on his camera, but Y/N barely paid attention to it. She could feel Chris's eyes at her again, his expression unreadable, almost like he was too full of emotion to put it into words.

When the last one was taken, Chris nudged her shoulder lightly.

"C’mon, superstar. Let’s get out of here."

She didn’t hesitate.

After exchanging warm goodbyes with Cole, Y/N and Chris started making their way toward the private exit where their Range Rover was waiting.

Y/N’s entire body felt like it was dragging now, the adrenaline wearing off fast. She wanted nothing more than to be curled up at home, in bed, preferably with Chris’s arms around her.

But before they could reach the doors-

"Y/N!"

A reporter suddenly appeared in front of them, stepping way too close for comfort. Y/N barely had time to react before the microphone was practically in her face.

"So, are you guys heading to the after-party?" The woman asked, her tone almost demanding, her smile overly eager. "What are the plans for the rest of the night?"

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned by how aggressive the approach was.

Chris, on the other hand... His entire expression darkened. His jaw clenched, and his brows furrowed deeply, his grip tightening around the awards as he took a subtle step closer to Y/N, his entire posture radiating protectiveness.

If looks could kill, the woman would’ve been vaporized on the spot.

But before Chris could say anything, Y/N, despite being exhausted, handled it perfectly.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.

Instead, she simply smiled, a polite, but pointed smile.

"I’m heading home, actually." She said smoothly, adjusting the awards in her arms. "To my family." The reporter barely had time to respond before Y/N added. "Thank you so much. Have a great night."

And just like that, she turned, walking away.

Chris blinked. Then, a slow, smug smirk crept onto his lips as he followed her.

Y/N didn’t give the woman another second of her time. She just kept walking, invisibly pulling Chris with her, her arm brushing against his with every step, greeting and thanking each staff member in the way with warm smiles.

Chris let out a low chuckle as they reached the car, expertly balancing both awards in one hand while using the other to pull open the door for her.

"Damn. That was smooth." His voice was warm, laced with amusement.

Y/N smirked at him over her shoulder, eyes twinkling despite the exhaustion sinking in.

"I’m too tired to deal with more people tonight."

Chris snorted, watching as she slid into the leather seat with a sigh of relief.

"Fair enough."

When he finally climbed into the seat beside hers, he shut the door with a groan, leaning his head back for a second before exhaling slowly.

And just like that, the moment they were sealed inside the warm car, blocking the sounds of loud voices and clicks, the exhaustion slammed into them both.

Y/N melted into the headrest, her eyes falling shut as she let out a deep, heavy breath.

"I feel like I ran a marathon."

Chris chuckled under his breath, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension.

"You did. An emotional one."

She hummed in agreement, her breathing slowing as the exhaustion took hold. Chris reached over instinctively, finding her hand in the dim light of the car, fingers slotting between hers with ease.

His thumb brushed over her knuckles, slow and deliberate, grounding her in the quiet.

"M’so proud of you, baby." His voice was soft, almost a whisper, like he didn’t want to disturb the peacefulness settling over them.

Y/N turned her head toward him, eyelids heavy, but her lips curled into the smallest, sleepiest smile.

"Love you."

Chris lifted their joined hands without hesitation, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles, lingering there for just a second longer than necessary.

"Love you more."

She let her eyes flicker down, gaze landing on the golden awards sprawled across her lap and the seat beside her. She reached out, fingertips tracing the engravings, still not entirely believing they were hers.

She let out a thoughtful hum. Five more Grammys.

"We’re gonna have to find space for these at home." She murmured, brows knitting together as she looked over at Chris. "I have no idea where we’re putting them."

Chris chuckled, shaking his head.

"Already taken care of."

She raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nick ordered a whole-ass display cabinet for that empty wall across from the kitchen." He admitted, shooting her a knowing look. "Figured we’d need it."

Y/N blinked, her lips parting slightly.

"He-"

"Yeah." Chris smirked. "So, we’ll put these there with the others from the past years..." He paused, his eyes twinkling playfully. "Until there’s no room left, popstar."

Y/N huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head before leaning over to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

"At this rate." She teased, nuzzling his soft skin. "We’ll need a whole new house."

It was no surprise when, in the next TikTok, the boys recorded in their kitchen, the cabinet full of awards served as the background.

© vanteguccir

[phosphns]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ bathroom sex with dealer!chris

warns. smut. oral [f. receiving]. unprotected sex [don’t be silly]. porn without plot. creampie. explicit language. degradation kink. pet names [doll, baby, princess]. teasing, lowercase intended.

“chris — please — move!” your hips instinctively nudged forward, searching for just a shred of contact with his fingers, which were buried deep inside you, still.

he shook his head, amused by your pathetic reaction at his touch. “uh-huh. you’ve been such a bad girl the instant we stepped into this party,” he said, keeping his free hand at the side of your head, trapping you between his body and the wall.

when he dragged you into this bathroom by the arm you knew what was coming. you actually had seen it coming from the moment you decided to wear that tight, little dress — the one he expressly affirmed he didn’t want you to wear.

“you knew this would happen, didn’t you?” he suddenly curled his fingers inside you, caressing your insides, making you let out a load moan. “you acted so bossy out there with that douchebag, what happened now?” he added, alluding to your wasted status.

he had in fact barely touched you, pushing you against the cold tiles and lifting your slutty garment up to your navel as soon as you entered the bathroom and you already were a moaning mess, craving for more of his touch.

“please chris — i-i need you,” you said blubbering. he smirked down at you. “need me to what?” he teased. you could tell he was holding back. his eyes were dark and glossy in lust and desire and if you only moved your leg a little bit you could’ve felt the hard-on that was starting to grow between his legs.

“need you.. need you to- to make me feel good,” you were slurring your words, trying to stay still to not upset him more, even if everything you could feel in that moment was your aching core begging to be relieved.

he bit his lips, moving his head in disapproval “gonna need something more, princess” the brunette said, approaching dangerously to your face. he started to leave a trail of wet kisses all over your jaw and neck.

you swore you were about to lose it and starting fucking yourself on his fingers on your own.

“chris — chris — please make me cum. i need it- need you so bad,” you begged him miserably, closing your eyes at the overwhelming sensation of his mouth on your collarbone.

“look at me — he grabbed your chin with two fingers, making your eyes flutter open — y’think you deserve it?” he said, pulling away from your chest and looking at you in your eyes, which were imploring for some kind of contact. “you deserve to cum after acting like a slut in front of me and the whole party? mh?”

he started to move his middle and pointer finger inside you painfully slowly, making your spine shiver and your mouth let out a whimper. his thumb reached your swollen clit, rubbing it just as slowly. you tried to say something but a low whine broke the words in your throat.

“mh? fuckin’ answer me,” his fingers went abruptly deeper, while he placed his knee between your legs, blocking them to close.

“i don’t! i was such a slut! i’m sorry- please i’m sorry!” you almost screamed in frustration.

he sharply removed his fingers from my heat, grabbing you by the waist and turning you around, making you face the big mirror. “i think you need a reminder of who you belong to,” he roamed his hands all over your body, caressing your hips sensually.

you could feel his boner pocking onto your ass, so you pushed back on purpose, trying to have some friction. “mhm, you surely need it,” he added, before shoving two fingers inside your pussy once again, this time his pace was fast and rough.

your eyes closed again due the overstimulation that you were accumulating. “didn’t ya understand me? i want those pretty eyes open,” he repeated. what you saw once you accomplished was your reflection being fingered-fucked by your boyfriend, and that did nothing but turn you on even more.

your mouth kept letting out a sequence of moans and whines, as you felt the familiar tension building up in your stomach. “god — right there, don’t stop, please”

his gaze was fixed on his digits appearing and disappearing inside you, moving it on your face when you letted out a nearly pornographic moan. “you like bein’ treated like the whore y’are, don’t you?”

“yes, yes, yes,” you repeated like a mantra, getting off on the wet sounds that the contact made. he speeded up his pace, pumping his fingers furiously in and out of you, knowing that you were getting closer and closer.

as you were about to reach your climax, he stopped again, making you groan. “no, no please, i was so close!” you cried out.

he ignored you, removing his hand for the umpteenth time that night to hook his fingers onto the fabric of your panties, pulling them down to your knees. “if you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna do it on my cock,” he said, pushing your back down, so that you were bent over the counter.

he didn’t waste time to pull down his zipper and take out his length, that slapped on his stomach because of the stimulation. his red mushroom tip was leaking pre-cum, streaming down his erection.

he took it in his free hand and beat it a few times, before lining it up with my entrance. he rubbed it between my folds, gathering some of your juices as lube. “these were your intentions f’this party, isn’t that right?” he kept teasing.

you arched your back, trying to have his dick finally buried deep inside you, as you, indeed, had tried all night long. “please chris — i-i need it” you mumbled, biting your bottom lip so hard that almost bled.

“you knew i had deals to take care of, and yet, there you were, grinding yourself on some random jerk” he traced a finger on your back, from your neck to your ass, delivering an harsh slap on your right cheek.

you were a mess at this point, your stare on his face, on his lips, on his body, in the hope that he would’ve done something anytime soon.

suddenly, he slammed his hips forward, making your eyes roll back in your head from the shock. he didn’t give you time to adjust to his size, he just began to move in and out roughly, his pace fast and constant. his hands rested firmly on your hips, you both breathing heavily as he hit all the deeper spots.

one of his hands flew to your bundle of nerves, grazing against it to add pleasure at your already near climax.

“chris” you moaned, saying the only thing you were able to vocalize. your face was contorted in gratification, your knuckles becoming white due the hard grip you had on the counter.

“shit — i know baby,” he whispered, continuing to slam his hips on your ass, his balls on your clit. his grasp grew harder on your skin, sign that he was close too.

you started feeling the peak in your stomach, your legs becoming jelly and trembling. you couldn’t hold back anymore. “i’m gonna come — god, chris i’m ‘bouta —”

“fuuck — cum for me, doll” he told you, continuing thrusting in you nonstop.

it only took you one sentence and a few moments to start creaming on his cock, feeling it twitching inside you. “aah — chris… oh my god” 

you finally felt l his cum spurting in your cunt, the warm liquid filling you up. he pulled out, letting out one last moan, the two of you trying to re-stabilize your breathing. 

you tried to lift your back, but chris stopped you, making you bend over again. you felt his fingers on your core once again, “chris — no more — m’too sensitive,” i cried out.

“nuh-uh. not letting any of it going wasted” he said, collecting his semen and yours that was leaked out your pussy to put them back in. your cunt hurt for the overstimulation, all red and puffy — to him, it hadn’t never looked prettier.

when he finally pulled away, you raised your panties up and lowered the dress down, fixing — or attempting to — your hair and make up to make it seem like you hadn’t occupied the room for over thirty minutes.

“you okay?” chris asked you, turning you around. he wrapped his arms around your waist, your back hitting the counter. i nodded, “yeah, i think i remember now” you said making him smirk.

“you made me lose a buyer — we’re not done” he added, half joking and half serious. i let out a chuckle, my hands flying around his neck, brushing my lips on his.

he closed the gap and gave me a soft kiss, before pulling away and putting his arm around my shoulder. we leave the room, acting like nothing happened under the judging gazes of the long queue of people who were waiting to use the toilet.

“i hope you enjoyed your fuck, fuckin’ almost made me piss myself”

yaps. it was supposed to be shorter but i got too involved… anyway i need him so bad it’s concerning.

wc. 1,5k

[chrisbesitos]

Older!chris taking videos of his younger! gf sleeping on him.>>>>

He would fs say “awhhh” while he hears yns little snored and her hands roaming around him arms and body to get comfy

little bear.

Chris and Y/N were having a nap on the couch. This morning, Chris had to wake up early and Y/N couldn't sleep anymore without him. When he got back home, Chris lay on the couch while Y/N was sitting on his lap, yapping about her morning.

"You had a great morning, aren't you, princess?" Chris said grinning, he grabbed her waist, caressing his fingers on her skin.

"Yeah, but working out without you is boring." She sighed, Chris giggled.

Y/N stretched her arms and lay her body against Chris'. He embraced her waist, giving Y/N a kiss on her hair. The girl rested her face against her boyfriend's chest, Chris massaged her scalp, slowly making her feel sleepy.

"You still here?" Chris asked, knowing his girlfriend was drowsy already. Y/N hums in response, with her eyes fully closed. "How can someone sleep that faster?"

It didn't take too much for Chris to fall asleep either. They slept together for a couple hours on the couch, because when Chris woke up the living room was a bit darker than earlier. He couldn't move, because Y/N was laying on him with her full body and he doesn't risk try to move, because he'll wake her up, even he needs to use the bathroom.

He reached his phone on the coffee table, Chris scrolled his timeline for a while. He giggled when he heard Y/N snores, she always does that when she's really tired. Chris couldn't help it, she was too cute to not record. He started to record a video with his phone, filming his pretty girlfriend snoring like a little bear.

"She looks like a little bear." He whispered laughing, the vibration of his laugh made Y/N yawn and squeeze her face on Chris' chest. "Aww, she's so cute."

Y/N pursed her eyebrows and raised her head, she looked at Chris' with her eyes puffy and narrowed. Chris smiled, but Y/N just ignored and turn back to sleep. She hugged her boyfriend's neck, inhaling his scent and reaching for comfort. He giggled, realizing that his girlfriend didn't notice he was recording her.

Almost one hour later, Y/N finally wake up. She was drowsy and lazy, she almost slipped out of the couch, but Chris held her by the waist.

"Did I sleep too much?" She groans.

"Just a couple hours, little bear."

"Bear?"

chris definitely would post this video on his close friends on her birthday 😞

Tags: @lizzymacdonald06 @deliciousluminaryanchor @lushjunkie @sweetreliever @watercolorskyy @ivysturnss @brianna-grace12 @blahbel668

join my taglist!

[sturniqlo]

JUST A TASTE- MATT STURN

summary: a matt the MUNCH blurb

cw: cursing, SMUT; making out, hickies, oral!f!receiving, fingering, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, squirting

an: cooked this one up really quickly

masterlist | join my taglist

-----------------------------------------------

"could we live with just a taste? just a taste."- mfasr, h.s

-

-

"Baby, please." Matt says through the swirl of their tongues. "Just a taste, wanna- wanna taste you." He drags a finger down her exposed torso and presses it against her clothed clit. "Fuck!" Y/n whines against his mouth. "Can I? Can I taste you?" He looks up her before kissing along her neck.

"Yes, please. Want your mouth on me." She bucks her hips and his finger presses harder, making her moan louder. Matt wastes no time and kisses down her body, putting her legs over his shoulders. He kisses along her thighs and bites her inner thigh. "Matt!" She hisses. He chuckles against her plump flesh. Kissing up her inner thigh, he purposely misses the place where she needs him the most and kisses her tattoo.

"Fucking love this tattoo." He licks and sucks a hickey onto her skin. "Matt, please. Stop teasing." She sighs. "Okay, okay." He disconnects himself from her tattoo and hooks a finger through her black lacy panties and pulls them down, taking them off. "So wet for me, babe." His mouth waters at the sight of her glistening pussy. His hot breath against her core makes her shiver.

"Who made you this wet, hm?" He places a wet kiss against her puffy clit. "You, you did." She hums in delight. "That's right." He says before diving in and starts eating her out. "Oh- shit! You're so fucking good." Y/n's eyes roll back. "Taste so sweet. Fucking missed your taste." He moans against her cunt, the vibrations making it feel even better than it was before if that's even possible.

Matt licks from her dripping hole all the way up to click, sucking on it. "Just like that." She rolls her hips against his face, pulling on his hair. "Want one of my fingers?" He mutters against her. "Yes, fill me up." She whines. Matt continues to suck on her clit and brings his pointer finger to her hole collecting some of her arousal, drenching his finger before putting it in slowly. "Shit!"

He thrusts his finger in and out of her, still sucking and nibbling on her clit. Y/n cries with pleasure and feels the familiar tightness in her lower belly. "I'm close, don't- don't stop." She tugs on his hair. "Mm, want another finger?" He looks up at her. She nods. "Yes! Give me another one!" Matt disconnects his mouth from her clit and watches as his middle finger enter her hole alongside his other one. "Fuck!"

Matt practically moans at the erotic sight. "Look at your pussy taking my finger so good. I can only imagine my cock. You always wrap around me so nicely." He kisses her clit. "I'm- I'm cumming! Fuck- holy shit!" Her legs shake around his head almost closing, but Matt manages to keep them open. As she rides her high out, Matt keeps on fingering her and licking her clit.

"Matt- I- fuck!" Her legs shake even more. "Give me one more, I know you can." He says. "I- I can't!" Her eyes well up with tears due to the pleasure. "Yes you can. I can feel you squeezing around my fingers already." He connects his mouth to her once more and removes his finger. His hand comes up to her clit and rubs it rapidly. "Shit- I'm- I'm cumming!" She cries, her back arching off of the bed.

"Fuck, baby. You squirted all over my hand and face. So fucking hot." He kitty licks her overly sensitive pussy. "Matt- I can't!" She pushes his head away. "I know, baby. Let me just clean you up with my tongue." He kisses around her lightly. Matt comes off of her and goes up to her to kiss her.

"Did so good for me." He says against her lips. "Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy?" She nods. "Always, just- just give me a minute." She giggles.

[chrispleasure]

CANT SLEEP, c.s

summary!: chris cant sleep without apologising to his girlfriend, afraid it might be her last night.

not proof read!

the air became heated, you didnt want to shower with chris, which caused him to yell at you. “what! are you afraid of seeing a dick or something?!” he yells, stepping out of the bathroom.

he didnt want to argue, but he felt hurt that you wanted to be alone and not with him. “its not that— im not afraid. i just want some peace.” you stood by the doorway, watching as he undressed himself.

chris took a few blankets and one of his pillows and left the room, carrying the argument further. you decided now was the best time to have your shower, knowing he wont bother you.

as the water become heated, you undressed and stepped under the square shower head. soft hums escaped your lips, “hmm..” you mumbled, leaning back.

the bathroom lights werent on either, which spiked your mood to feel more flirty and sexy. your hand traveled near your wet pussy, hesitant to touch yourself.

you decided against and brought your hand back to your chest, crossing your arms and letting the water take over.

downstairs, chris lies down on the couch cuddled up in his blankets and pillow. silently hoping you would come down stairs and apologize.

it was stupid, you werent the one who needed to apologise. he did. but he was too immature to be the bigger person.

small tears escaped his eyes and went onto the white pillow, he sunk deep intonthe couch. chris wanted a hug, a gesture of love.

he didnt mean to act out like this, part of him was still angry for yelling at you like he did. little did he know he was the last thing on your mind.

you were near the end of your playlist on spotify, the song ending. which meant it was time to get out of the shower and apologise.

which you dreaded, not wanting to see his pretty face. the tears which were most likely streaming down his cheeks.

as you stumble out of the shower, you slip and hit your head on the counter. “fuck!” you wince, letting out a small sob as you sit up.

you instinctively cover the corner of your head with your hand, causing blood to drip down onto it. “mmph- shit, shit..” you sob, rocking back and forth.

you wanted chris’s comfort instantly, but he wouldnt give it too you, you did definitely say some hurtful things too and about him.

after a few minutes of crying, you pull yourself off the ground, getting used to the feeling of your head feeling as if it’s about to fall off.

you scurry and put on the pajamas you left on the counter, stumbling to the bedroom. you didnt even bother going downstairs to say goodnight.

immediately, without a thought, you get under the blankets. moving your body to adjust to the feeling of the sheets.

it feels like heaven, closing your eyes and relaxing. part of you wanted chris cuddling into you, speaking reasurring words into your ear, touching around your breasts to calm you down. but he was all the way downstairs, probably pissed off.

as your thoughts drifted to random things, you fell asleep quickly. your body relaxing in a comfortable position.

but chris on the other hand, couldnt shut an eye. he stayed on the same couch for hours, hungry for cuddles or even a kiss.

he tried, tried and tried, but nothing. just black, no dream, nothing. he couldnt sleep angry with you, or you angry at him.

he sat up, grabbing his pillow. he walked upstairs, tears wet on his face. he was shaking and sobbing quietly.

a few quiet knocks were heard. when he got no response, he decided to walk in. after all, it was also his room.

he walks in, walking to his side of his bed. “baby? you ‘wake?” he asks, his side of the bed sinking a little as he layed down.

you slept peacefully, not hearing anything he was saying or asking. he shook you, moving closer for comfort. “ma, wake up..” he sniffles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

without question, you woke up, thinking their was an earthquake. you looked to your left, seeing chris’s figure shaking you.

once he saw you were awake, he stopped. looking at you with a frown. “what do you want, chris?” you asked tiredly, resting your head on the pillow.

“im sorry for getting angry.. i just wanted a shower with you, i feel a need to always be close to you at all times.” he apologised, cuddling close to you.

a soft smile played on your lips, feeling happy he apologised. “i also jus’ couldnt sleep without saying sorry. you couldve died in your sleep.” he says in a worried tone.

you chuckled, turning to face him fully. “hey, hey.. im okay. im healthy enough that i wont die for a while.” you rub his cheek, met with the now dried tears that stayed there.

“you cried?” you asked, frowning a little. he nods, putting his hand on your wrist. “can we just cuddle and sleep? i need comfort.” he whines, moving closer.

your body pressed against his, pressing a kiss against his neck a few times before drifting off. “i love you.” you say.

the end!!

[gracieabrmslvr]

INTRODUCING……

texts between influencer!reader and talkingstage!chris

[mattsbow]

ㅤ𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 // 𝙢. 𝙨. ୨ৎ

summary: pussy drunk matt (blurb)

cw: oral (f!receiving), pet names, hair pulling, softdom!matt

an: my first work on tumblr im sorry for any grammatical mistakes cuz english isnt my first language

// 532 words

matt was a starving man for your pussy. always. every sex you guys have ends with his tongue buried deep inside you, licking and sucking on your folds until you cum on his face. not like you mind that, though

he holds your thigs, his fingers grip your flesh and you think there’s going to be bruises tomorrow, but it doesn’t worry you right now. you focus on matt between your legs, his breath hovering over your sensitive skin as he does a long, long lick, leaving you gasp for air.

your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging on his strands, your cries in pleasure make him smirk against your flesh as he sucks on your sensitive bud of nerves. you squirm under him, trying to squeeze your legs together, but his head between your thighs doesn't let you do it. he holds you still on your place while eating you out like a drunk man.

little moans and whimpers leave your parted lips when you buck your hips up for him, almost riding his face in pleasure. “shh, b— babe, gotta be patient, ‘kay?”, he raises his head, facing you. your juices glisten on his face when he gives you a little smirk, leaning back to your pussy. this man always knows how to make you scream for more.

you feel the knot tightens in your stomach as matt continues to eat you out, he licks from you dripping hole and makes you yelp, your grip on his hair tightens more and you whine in pleasure. “tastes so—.. so good, baby”

“cl— close”, the first word that leaves your mouth for today. you arch your back, begging him to continue, begging him to make you cum. “know, babygirl, i know”, you can feel a smirk is tugging  on the corner of his lips, he knows he makes you crazy, he always does.

matt continues his assault on your pussy, his licks long and loud across your slick folds. his one hand on your stomach, holding you on place, while his other holds your thigh and leaves little bruises on your skin. he makes you see stars through your half-closed eyelids. when matt feels your hand leave his hair and grip the silk sheets under you, he knows you’re close. he pats your thigh, his breath hovering over your sensitive bud, “cum f’me, pretty”

and only god knows how intense your orgasm is. you cum on his face, a high-pitched moan leaves your lips and you arch your back, letting out little cries in pleasure. matt raised himself on his elbows, a smirk plastered on his face as he leaves little kisses on your thighs, quiet praises lets out from his mouth. he looks up at you and you can see adoration in his face. a sight of your cum over his face makes you blush and you giggle shyly, burying your head in the pillow, in attempt to hide your face.

matt licks his lips, tasting you. he crawls back to you, peppering your neck and jawline with little kisses, “you weren’t that embarrassed a minute ago when you were moaning and letting the whole neighborhood knows who makes you scream”

© mattsbow

[ghsface]

that damn mask - chris sturniolo

Sumary: You see Chris in the Ghostface costume and you can't control what seeing him like that makes you feel.

Warnings: smut +18 orgasm denial, teasing, sexual tension, explicit content, use of fingers, semi public sex, unprotected sex (don't do it), oral f receiving, dom!chris x fem!reader, I don't think I've forgotten anything, if I do, let me know.

A/n: I hope I'm not the only one who has a Fantasy with Ghostface, by the way I'm sorry if there are misspelled words or things that don't make sense, my first language is not English

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

The air was charged with energy at the costume party Tara Yummy had thrown for Halloween. Flashing lights and loud music made the floor vibrate as people laughed, drank, and moved around the room filled with creative costumes. But for you, nothing at this party compared to Chris’ presence.

They had both dressed up as Ghostface, the iconic black robes and masks adding a dark and dangerous air to the night. From the moment you saw Chris putting on the mask, something changed inside you. The way the shadow of his face was hidden behind that lifeless expression, the way his body moved with a commanding confidence, made you feel an intense and deep desire that you couldn’t control.

Your mind kept imagining him taking off his mask, leaning over you, his firm and strong hands running over every part of your skin. You felt yourself burning inside, every fiber of your being begging for more, wanting him to take you right there, in the middle of the crowd.

Chris noticed your discomfort almost instantly. He saw it in the way you bit your bottom lip, the way you pressed yourself against the bar, as if you were trying to hide the tension in your body. But he didn't say anything. Instead of confronting you, he decided to make the night more interesting. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Throughout the night, Chris kept teasing you. Every time he passed by, he would lightly brush against you, his fingers sliding down your lower back, his soft, dangerous voice whispering comments that further ignited your desire. He seemed to enjoy the silent torture he was putting you through, knowing that you wanted something he was more than willing to give you... but only when he decided.

You were on the verge of desperation when, in one swift movement, Chris took you by the arm and led you to one of the bathrooms in the house, away from the hustle and bustle of the party. The bathroom was dark, lit only by the dim light that filtered in from under the door, and Chris’s presence filled the small space, overwhelming you.

Without a word, he slowly removed his mask, his eyes meeting yours. His gaze was heavy with intent, dark and dominant. The air grew thicker as he knelt in front of you, his hands firmly placed on your thighs, parting them as he looked at you with that mix of control and desire.

“I want you to remember this when we’re home,” he whispered, his voice low and full of promise.

He didn’t give you time to respond. Without warning, Chris knelt in front of you, his gaze fixed on your intimacy with a mix of hunger and desire. With firm hands, he unbuttoned your pants and slid them down, leaving you vulnerable before him. “You’re perfect,” he said, his voice soft and heavy with desire as his eyes roamed over your exposed figure.

When his lips touched your thigh, a rush of anticipation ran through your body. Chris took his time, leaving a trail of kisses along your skin as he moved ever closer. Finally, his mouth found your clit, and when his tongue brushed against it, an uncontrollable moan escaped your lips. “Oh, God, Chris!” you exclaimed, feeling the pleasure begin to build.

He smirked and continued, his tongue sliding precisely over your clit. “You like it, don’t you?” he asked, enjoying your reaction as he played with your sensitivity.

With each stroke of his tongue, the outside world disappeared and there was only you and the fire he lit inside you.

Chris knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you move in time with his rhythm. His fingers, soft but firm, began to caress your entrance, one of them gently entering while his mouth worked on your clit. The combination of his tongue and finger brought you to a place where words faded away, and only moans and sighs of pleasure remained.

“Chris…” you could barely articulate his name, the feel of his movements filling you with an almost overwhelming need. But he stopped suddenly, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of amusement and dominance. “Do you want more?” he asked, his teasing tone making your body tremble.

“Yes, please,” you pleaded, feeling the pressure building inside you. But Chris was relentless. He stopped, relishing in your desperation. “Not until you beg me,” he said, his voice low and laden with defiance.

“Please, Chris, don’t stop…” your voice shook with need, and he smiled, relishing in the power he had over you. When he finally thrust his tongue and fingers back in, he did so with renewed strength, increasing the pace as they brought you to the edge once more.

With each stroke, his fingers delved deeper into you, while his tongue swirled and caressed your clit, driving your pleasure to new heights. “You’re so beautiful when you let yourself go,” he said, his voice echoing in your mind as you sank into pleasure. “I want you to tell me what you feel.”

“Chris, I’m so close…” you moaned, pressure building inside you, but he stopped again, leaving you on the brink of climax. “What are you going to do to make me let you cum?” he asked, relishing in the struggle between pleasure and frustration.

“I need you, please,” you begged, feeling the edge getting closer and closer. Finally, as your desperation became almost unbearable, he complied. “Tell me,” he demanded, looking at you with that mix of control and desire.

“I need you to let me cum,” you pleaded, and he smiled, satisfaction shining in his eyes. With one determined move, Chris increased the speed, his tongue and fingers working together to bring you to that explosion you had been craving.

The combination of his expert touch and his focused attention on your clit brought you to climax. When you finally let go, pleasure erupted within you, flooding you with a wave of sensations so intense it seemed like time stood still. Chris continued his pace, taking you to new heights as convulsions of pleasure coursed through your body.

“That’s it, good job,” he whispered, his deep voice filling the air as the world around you faded away. Finally, when you steadied yourself, Chris leaned in, his breath hot on your skin as he looked at you in satisfaction. "You're completely mine," he declared, and you knew that tonight had been just the beginning of what he had in store for you.

“This is just the beginning,” he murmured, standing up and putting his mask back on. “Now, enjoy the party.”

You tried to regain your composure, but your mind was flooded with thoughts of what awaited you when you finally got home.

The ride home was a whirlwind of sensations. Chris kept teasing you, his hands playing with you, leaving you completely exposed to his desires without anyone noticing. By the time you arrived, you could barely stand up from the sheer desire that consumed you.

The door closed behind you, and in the blink of an eye, Chris had you up against the wall. This time, there was no subtlety. His mouth claimed yours with an intensity that left you breathless, and his hands were quick to strip you of your clothes. Every touch was a reminder of who was in charge, of how he had made you beg in the bathroom, and how he was now going to fulfill every one of your fantasies.

“I told you you’d remember,” he growled against your ear, his hands gripping your hips as he let you know exactly what was coming.

And then he did, taking you beyond what you had imagined at that party, making you understand that tonight you weren’t going to forget who was in control.

The air in the room became almost unbearable as Chris finally took you completely. There were no more games, no more teases; just a raw, fierce need that raged between the two of you. His hands, strong and determined, held you firmly, guiding every movement as his lips moved down your neck, taking your breath away with each kiss.

The way he looked at you, even with the mask on at times, ignited something even darker inside you. Each thrust was more intense, deeper, as if both of you were releasing all the tension built up at that party, on that night. The sound of your heavy breathing, your gasps, and the echo of your bodies colliding filled the room, creating a thick, lust-filled atmosphere.

Chris kept reminding you who was in charge, his words full of authority and desire, whispering things in your ear that made you shiver.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do this to you,” he murmured, his deep voice, raspy with lust. “Look at me… look at me as I take you the way you want.”

Your eyes met his, and just seeing the satisfaction on his face as he noticed how completely you were given to him made you lose control. Pleasure was building up inside you, a fire that spread throughout your body, threatening to make you explode.

Chris, with the same precision with which he had brought you to the edge in the bathroom, kept you right there, taking you to the edge again and again, but not letting you fall. He made you beg with every movement, with every thrust that seemed to have no end.

“Chris, please…” you gasped, your voice cracking with need.

“Please what?” he replied with a dark smile, not stopping, enjoying watching you squirm under his control.

You couldn’t think, you couldn’t speak, you just wanted more of him, to feel him deeper, to let yourself be carried away by the pleasure he offered you without reservation.

Finally, when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, Chris took you even harder, taking you to the point of no return. You felt your whole body tense, the pleasure enveloping you, making the world around you disappear. There was nothing but Chris, his hands, his body, and the way he made you feel like you were losing control in his arms.

Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, your body shaking as Chris showed no signs of stopping. He was relentless, dominating you completely, and the feeling made you lose yourself in ecstasy. His strong hands on your hips guided you, taking you to a place where only pleasure existed, and his every move pushed you beyond what you thought possible.

Chris was completely in control, his heavy breathing mixing with you as he kept you right on the edge, not letting you fall completely. His words, whispered in a low tone filled with desire, made your body respond with each passing second.

“You're mine,” he grew, his husky voice as his eyes never left yours.

It was a statement, not a question. And you, lost in the intensity of it all, could do nothing but nod, letting yourself go completely. His hands roamed your body with that same precision, seeking out every spot that made you shudder, and when he finally let you fall over the edge, you did so with a gasp, your body shaking beneath his as the pleasure consumed you.

Chris, feeling you crumble, gave you no rest. He picked up the pace, taking you further, making sure you remembered every second, that you were completely lost in him.

When he finally reached his own climax, it was with a low growl, his body tensing as he spilled himself inside you, taking you with him in an explosion of sensations that left you breathless. You both stood there, breathing heavily, the room filled with the echo of what had just happened.

Slowly, Chris slid to the side, but he didn't pull away completely. His hands were still on your skin, caressing gently as you both tried to catch your breath.

“I told you I would make it unforgettable,” he finally murmured, his voice soft, but still full of that authority that had made you lose control all night.

You, still trembling, couldn't help but smile slightly. Chris had given you exactly what you wanted… and more.

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ✮

Tags... @strnlslut @matt-sturnioloo @cayleeuhithinknott @chrissexsuall @realqueenofpepsi @bsturnzmtt @slutforsturniolo @sophsturns @demisthings05 @inssanely @stvrnzwrld @kamskami @lovingregulusblack <3

[whor3ing]

𝑺𝒂𝒚 𝑰𝒕 𝑨𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 3 | 𝑪.𝑺

▶︎ ၊၊||၊ WICKED GAMES , THE WEEKND

Chris Sturniolo x f!reader

WARNINGS : part three of three, brat!tamer, making you fuck yourself on his fingers, reading you your fantasies of him, oral (male recieving), face-fucking, lots of degradation, pure filth, minimal choking, usage of "whore" & "slut"

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

IN WHICH.. You meet Chris Sturniolo at a meet-and-greet, where a seemingly innocent interaction quickly turns into something more backstage. Later that evening, you post about the experience on your Tumblr blog, never expecting that Chris would find it.

╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

yes, i rewrote this. i'm sorry. kisses.

part one , part two , part three

word count : 5k ♡

05 : Taught Patience

Your legs are still shaking when you step out of the car, your thighs pressed together in a desperate attempt to relieve the throbbing ache between them.

It’s humiliating—how easily he got you like this. How he’d kept you on the phone for nearly an hour, not even with his voice, just with the tone of his messages, making you beg just to be denied. Just to be edged.

“Don’t you dare cum,” he had warned, thick with amusement as you had whimpered with near tears in your eyes, your fingers pressed firmly between your thighs as your phone lit up with message after message.

"Wanna see me that bad? You have the fuckin' address, don't you pretty girl?"

You had hesitated, fingers hovering over your phone screen, thighs pressing together uselessly as you tried to decide if you’d give in. If you’d let him win. But your body betrayed you before your pride could catch up—your keys were in your hand, your heartbeat was hammering against your ribs, and your legs were already moving.

Now, standing in front of his door, your body is burning—still pulsing from the way he worked you up and left you hanging.

Your breath is shaky as you press the doorbell, and the moment the chime fades, the door swings open like he was waiting, knowing you’d come crawling the second he told you to.

Chris leans against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, eyes dark as they drag over your flushed skin and trembling legs. His smirk is pure sin. His tousled brown hair, damp at the ends, falls in messy waves over his forehead, a few strands curling near his temple.

The dim light casts a golden sheen over the caramel highlights threading through the strands, making them look almost touchable, almost soft—until you remember who they belong to.

“Look at you,” he drawls, shaking his head. “Pathetic.”

“Drove all the way here with your cunt dripping down your thighs, huh?” His voice is all teasing condescension, eyes gleaming as he steps closer, towering over you.

“Bet you were rubbing them together the whole time, trying to get yourself off like some a desperate slut.”

You swallow hard, barely managing to nod.

Chris chuckles, reaching out to trace a finger along your jaw before gripping it, tilting your head up so you have no choice but to look at him.

His posture is relaxed, yet every muscle in his body radiates dominance, his broad shoulders tensing with every movement as he holds you there, waiting for your next move.

“Look at me,” he demands softly, his voice a low rasp, every word laced with dominance, as if the very command is a reward in itself.

“Did it work?” His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, gaze dark and taunting.

“Did my filthy little writer finally learn how to be patient?”

You shake your head, lips parting around a breathy, “No.”

His grip tightens just enough to make you gasp.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Because now I get to teach you.”

The second the door clicks shut, Chris spins you around and shoves you against it. The force isn’t enough to hurt, but it steals the breath from your lungs, your body already sensitive from the torture he put you through on the phone.

His hands are on you immediately—one gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze, the other trailing down, fingers ghosting over your waist, your hips, teasing but never giving you what you need.

“Y’know,” he muses, eyes dark and predatory, “for someone who loves to write, you sure don’t follow instructions well.” His grip tightens just enough to make you whimper. “I told you not to come.”

Your knees nearly buckle at the way his voice drops, all thick authority, dripping in amusement because he knows damn well you obeyed him. He just wants to hear you say it.

“I—I didn’t,” you stammer, your lips parting as he presses his thigh between your legs, adding the slightest bit of friction. It’s nothing, barely there, but after spending the entire drive clenching around nothing, it’s enough to make your head fall back with a pitiful little moan.

Chris smirks, his grip firm as he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes burn into yours, amusement flickering behind the dominance, but there’s something else, something darker—possessive.

“You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, making you shiver. “Otherwise, I’d make you sit in that puddle between your legs and think about what a greedy little slut you are.”

Your body betrays you, hips arching into the teasing press of his body, desperate for relief. Chris notices immediately, a sharp chuckle falling from his lips as he presses his thigh between yours just enough to make you feel the pressure—but not enough to give you what you need.

“Already so fuckin’ desperate,” he muses, shaking his head. “And you think you deserve anything after disobeying me?”

Chris hums, pleased, before gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head against the door. He leans in close, his breath warm against your lips.

“Then why should I touch you?” he taunts. “Why should I let you have what you want when you couldn’t even do as you were told?”

A whimper escapes your throat, your fingers flexing in his grip. “Please, I didn't,” you breathe, pressing your thighs together for any sort of relief, but he catches the movement, his smirk widening.

“Oh no, baby,” he coos mockingly, his free hand sliding between your legs, just barely grazing over the soaked fabric of your panties. “You don’t get to decide when you get touched.” His fingers retreat before they can offer any friction, and you nearly sob at the loss.

“Chris,” you plead, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, your body trembling in frustration.

He tilts his head, considering, before releasing your wrists. His hand trails down your arm, slow and teasing, fingers ghosting over your collarbone, your stomach, until he reaches the waistband of your shorts. He hooks his fingers under the fabric, pulling just enough to make you gasp, then stops, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“Take them off,” he orders, voice low, rough.

Your hands are shaking as you obey, pushing your shorts and panties down your legs, kicking them aside. The cool air kisses your soaked skin, making you shudder. Chris watches you, his gaze heated, almost predatory.

He takes a step back, arms crossing over his chest. “Now,” he murmurs, eyes gleaming, “since you love to tease yourself so much… go ahead. Show me how fuckin’ desperate you are.”

Chris clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You’re so fuckin’ easy,” he mutters, his fingers sliding down your neck, resting at your collarbone. “Came running over here the second I told you to. No shame. No self-respect.” His smirk deepens, his thigh shifting just enough to make you gasp. “Bet you’d do anything I say, huh?”

You nod frantically, hands gripping his hoodie, desperate for something, anything. “Please,” you breathe, barely able to form the words. “Chris, please—”

His fingers curl around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, just reminding you who’s in control. “Please what?”

“Please touch me,” you whisper, your voice barely there, thick with desperation.

Chris laughs. It’s low, cruel, dripping in amusement. “That’s all you got?” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, “You didn’t sound so shy when you were listening to every fuckin' word I was sayin'.”

Your whole body tenses, embarrassment flooding through you. But it’s nothing compared to the way he presses his thigh harder between your legs, grinding it just enough into your pussy that you can feel your wetness soak against his jeans.

“C’mon, baby,” he taunts, pulling back just enough to watch you squirm.

“Say it like you mean it.”

You whimper, nails digging into his hoodie. “Chris, please—please fuck me.”

His smirk sharpens, eyes dark and triumphant.

“There’s my slut.”

Before you can even process it, he grabs you by the wrist and drags you deeper into the house, straight to his bedroom, his hand firm against yours, the veins in his arms flexing as he pulls you closer and closer inside.

“You really wrote all that shit about me, huh?” he muses, tilting his head, lips twitching like he’s amused. “Spent all that time thinking about what I’d do to you.”

You nod, already breathless.

He hums, dragging a finger down your arm, slow and teasing. “Bet you thought you had me figured out.” His touch is barely there, so gentle compared roughness in his voice. “But let me tell you something, baby…” He leans in close, his lips brushing your ear, and you swear you stop breathing.

“You don’t know shit.”

He pushes you down onto the mattress, his hands gripping your thighs as he yanks you to the edge of the bed. A sharp gasp leaves your lips, but he doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath—his fingers are already dug deep into your hips, brushing to tightly against them that his grip is almost bruising.

“Been edging you all night, and you still came runnin’ over here like a dumb little slut, begging me to fuck you raw, mm'?” His voice is thick with mockery, but there’s something dark under it, something hungry. He shoves your thighs apart, dragging a finger up though your slick folds, and groans.

“Fuckin' god, that pussy is so needy for me mm'”

Your back arches at the contact, a desperate whimper escaping you as your hips instincively reach up towards his hand. A silent plead.

He barely touched you, and you’re already falling apart.

Chris chuckles, dragging his thumb over your clit just enough to make you jerk. “Look at you,” he murmurs, watching your every reaction. “So fuckin’ needy.” His hand suddenly disappears, leaving you gasping at the loss of contact. “I should make you wait even longer.”

You whine, hips bucking, trying so hard to get him to do something, anything that gives you pleasure, but he presses a hand against your stomach, holding you still.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts. “You don’t get to be greedy baby.” His fingers curl under the waistband of your panties, snapping the fabric against your skin.

“Not after the shit you pulled, sharing our little secret with all of those little followers of yours.."

You can barely think, barely breathe. “Chris,” you whisper, your voice wrecked. “Please.”

He exhales slowly, like he’s considering it, like he’s not already made up his mind. Then, suddenly, his grip tightens, his nails biting into your skin just enough to make you shiver.

“You want me to fuck you?” His tone is pure sin, rough and taunting. “Then you’re gonna do exactly what I say.”

Your head bobs frantically, hands fisting the sheets beneath you. “Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, anything—”

06 : Wicked Games

Chris doesn’t move.

He just sits back, leaning against the headboard, legs spread wide like he has all the time in the world. His hoodie is slightly pushed up, revealing a sliver of skin, and the way he watches you—like you’re something to be toyed with, something to be used—and to him you are, he has your pussy clenching around nothing without even trying.

“C’mon then,” he tuts, patting his thigh like he’s inviting you to take a seat. His fingers, long and thick, flex as he lazily curls them.

“You wanted to come so bad? Show me.”

Your breath stutters, your thighs already aching from how tightly you’ve been pressing them together.

You straddle him, hands pressing against his chest for balance as he tugs you closer, lips ghosting over your jaw, kissing softly against your neck as his face nuzzles into the crook between your neck and your shoulder. “That’s it,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers down between your legs, barely brushing your slick dripping fuckin' cunt.

“Such a fuckin' dirty girl, listening to me s'well"

Then, without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you.

A sharp moan rips from your throat, your body tensing at the sudden stretch of his fingers, deep inside of your needy cunt.

But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t thrust. Just keeps them there, filling you up, stretching you open while his thumb barely teases over your clit.

You squirm, trying to grind down on him, trying desperately to get any sensation of his touch against your pussy, but his other hand grips your hip, holding you in place.

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, eyes gleaming. “You do the work, slut.” His fingers twitch inside you, teasing. “Make yourself cum on my fingers, or you don't fuckin' come at all."

Your face burns, and for a second, you hesitate. But the need is too much, the ache unbearable. You can't help but roll your hips onto his ring-covered fingers, feeling him fill you so well, so easily with just two of them. You can't help but go dumb on his fingers, grabbing at his arm and using it as leverage to help fuck them even further into you.

Chris watches you like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, his eyes glazed over as he murmurs against you, groaning as you drench his fingers with your slick juices.

His free hand moves to your throat, thumb brushing over your racing pulse as you ride his fingers, fucking yourself onto him, using him just how he had been using you over the phone.

“There you go,” he murmurs, voice thick. “Just like that. So desperate to get off, you don’t even care how pathetic you look.”

His grip on your hip tightens, guiding your movements just enough to make you shudder. “You like this, don’t you? Like using my fingers like your own personal toy, takin' them and just fucking into that pretty puffy pussy f'me.”

You whimper, nodding frantically as you feel Chris' lips brush against your shoulder, "atta fuckin' girl, use my hand to get off." Your thighs burn from the effort, but you don’t stop. You can’t. You’re too fucking close, too wound up, and your pussy feels too good every single time he hits against your cervix, his fingers gliding to effortlessly against your creamy, wet walls.

Chris smirks, leans in close. “Gonna cum for me?” he taunts.

“Gonna soak my fuckin’ hand like a filthy little whore, huh ma?”

You cry out, nails digging into his hoodie as your body tenses, Pleasure crashes over you, white-hot and overwhelming as you grind down on his fingers, riding out every wave of your release with your hips never slowing, pushing his fingers deeper and deeper against your cervix, again and again as you cover his hand with your sticky come.

Chris groans, watching you fall apart, his fingers never stopping, even after you stop fucking his hand into you. He smiles, chuckling as he drags out every last bit of pleasure until you’re shaking, spent, gasping against his chest.

Finally, he pulls his fingers from you, glistening and soaked, and shoves them past you, smiling as he presses them to your lips.

“Clean up your mess,” he orders, his voice dark.

Chris watches with hooded eyes as you wrap your lips around his fingers, your tongue swirling over them, tasting yourself. His smirk deepens when he feels you suck, a quiet mmm slipping past your throat.

“Filthy,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers out slowly, watching the way a thin strand of spit connects them to your mouth.

His other hand tightens on your hip, keeping you straddled over his lap, your legs still trembling from your release. “You really are just a desperate little thing, huh? So eager to obey.”

You swallow hard, nodding, barely able to form words. You should be exhausted, should be satisfied after the way he just wrecked you, but your body is still burning, still needing more. Chris sees it immediately—the way your hips subtly roll forward, like you’re seeking out more friction, more of him.

“You still want more?” he taunts, dragging his clean hand up your spine, fingers curling around the back of your neck. “After I just made you fall apart on my fingers like a dumb little slut?”

A whimper escapes you, and you nod, shameless. “Please,” you whisper, voice hoarse from the moaning, the begging, everything he’s already done to you. “Need you.”

Chris lets out a low chuckle, his fingers tilting your chin up, making sure your glassy, desperate eyes stay locked on his. “You need me?” he repeats, mocking. “What, like you need to breathe?”

You nod frantically, nails digging into his shoulders. “Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, Chris, please—”

His grip tightens.

“You’re pathetic.”

Your stomach flips, heat rushing through your veins. You don’t even care how humiliating it is, how easily you fall apart under his touch. He knows exactly what he’s doing, the way his words make your core clench around nothing, the way you shiver when his grip turns bruising.

Chris exhales slowly, like he’s considering his options, like he’s debating how much more he wants to make you work for it. Then, finally, he smirks.

“Fine,” he mutters, reaching between you, palming himself through his sweats. “Since you’re so desperate to be filled, why don’t you show me how bad you want it?”

Your breath stutters, heart pounding in your ears. “what?”

Chris raises a brow. “You wrote all that filth about me—about how good I’d feel, how deep I’d be—and now you’re acting shy?” He tuts, shaking his head. “C’mon, baby. Put that pretty little mouth to work.”

His fingers tangle in your hair, guiding you down, down, until you’re slipping off his lap and onto your knees.

Chris leans back against the headboard, legs spread wide, watching you with the same lazy amusement he’s had all night—like he knew you’d end up here, on your knees between his thighs, looking up at him like he’s something to worship.

“You know what to do,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers through your hair, tugging just enough to make you whimper. “Don’t make me tell you twice.”

Your hands are trembling as you reach for the waistband of his jeans your breath shaky as you unbutton them, tugging them down, along with his boxers.

The moment his cock springs free, your mouth parts. He’s thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip, and you swallow hard, thighs pressing together at the thought of taking all of him. At the thought of his cock filling you, pressing against your cervix again and again.

Chris smirks, watching the way your eyes glaze over. “See something you like?”

You nod, already leaning in, lips parting—but before you can so much as taste him, his fingers tighten in your hair, yanking you back with a sharp tsk.

“Slow down,” he warns, tilting his head. “You don’t get to just dive in like a greedy little slut.” His grip loosens just enough for him to guide your chin up, making sure you’re looking right at him. “You ask for it.”

You lick your lips, already breathless, and force yourself to speak.

“Please,” you whisper.

Chris raises a brow, unimpressed.

“Please,” you try again, voice a little stronger. “I wanna taste you.”

His smirk sharpens. “Yeah?” He drags his thumb over your lower lip, watching the way it trembles. “Then show me how much you want it.”

Without hesitation, you lean in, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his cock, your tongue flicking out, teasing just the way you know will drive him crazy. Your spit pools against your lips, bubbling out to meet his thick, hard cock.

Chris exhales sharply, fingers still tangled in your hair, his muscles tensing beneath your touch as your spit falls against his cock, making it so fucking wet.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his head falling back for just a second before he forces himself to look at you again. “You are a filthy little thing, aren’t you?”

You hum in response, dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock, teasing the sensitive veins before finally wrapping your lips around his swollen tip.

The taste of him makes your head spin, all of his precum drenching your dry mouth. The dripping wetness from your pussy drips down your thighs as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, allowing him further and further into your mouth.

Chris groans, his grip tightening, guiding you just the way he wants. “That’s it,” he breathes, voice rough. “Take it all, baby. I know you can.”

Chris exhales sharply, dragging his thumb along your cheek, feeling the way your mouth stretches around him.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So desperate to please me.”

You nod as best as you can, your nails digging into his thighs for balance. You flick your tongue against the sensitive underside, your pace slow and teasing, knowing it’ll drive him crazy.

And it does—his breathing grows heavier, his chest rising and falling as he watches you work, his fingers twitching like he's fighting the urge to fuck your mouth the way he really wants to, the way he really needs to.

You pull off with a sinful little pop, your lips slick, your tongue darting out to catch the bead of precum at the tip, cleaning his cock.

"Thought you wanted me to do all the work?" you whisper, voice wrecked, a teasing lilt in your tone.

Chris' smirk is slow, dangerous. His hand tangles deeper in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to make you gasp.

"Careful," he warns, his voice low, dark, thick with promise. "You keep mouthing off, and I’ll fuck that pretty throat until you're crying."

Your breath stutters, your soaking cunt clenching at the sheer filth of it. But you don’t back down. Instead, you hold his gaze, lips parting just slightly as you run your tongue over him again, soft, teasing.

Chris groans, his patience snapping. "Fuck this," he mutters.

His hips roll forward, his grip tight as he sets the pace himself—no more teasing, no more playing. Just raw, unfiltered need.

You let him use you, let him fuck your mouth the way he needs, his guttural moans spilling into the air, his control unraveling with every thrust into your mouth.

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, your throat stretched wide, but you love it, love how wrecked he sounds, how rough he gets when he loses himself in you.

"God, you're so good," he growls, his head tipping back, the muscles in his thighs tensing.

"Fuck," he breathes, his gaze dark, hungry.

Then he leans forward, gripping your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up, his cock spilling out from your mouth, still hard and wanting.

"You’re not done yet, baby." His thumb brushes over your swollen lips, his smirk deepening. "I still haven’t fucked you stupid, doll."

He groans, reaching over to the side of his bed, fingers blindly searching the nightstand until they close around his phone. The screen lights up as he flips it over, the glow illuminating the sharp lines of his face, the mess of his hair.

His thumb moves lazily over the screen, muscle memory guiding him as he swipes up, entering his password without a second thought.

With a slow exhale, he taps on the familiar deep blue icon, the Tumblr app opening with a smooth flicker.

His fingers glide over the screen, moving so smoothly and deliberately, savoring each word, each post. His eyes darken with every fantasy you’ve shared as he scrolls through the app, smirking as he looks down at your face and then down at your drenched pussy.

He exhales sharply, jaw tightening. His grip on your waist bruises as he leans in, turning the phone towards you, now inches from your face.

"You really wrote all this about me?" His voice is thick, low, vibrating against your skin. His hips pull back, just a fraction, before slamming forward, making you gasp as you lay out on the bed in front of him.

His cock traces through your wet folds, your juices coating his cock in their sticky wetness as he slowly taps his hot dick against your clit, making you shiver.

"Fuck," Chris groans, like the words themselves turned him on beyond control. "You get off on this? Writing about me fucking you stupid? Dreaming about my cock stretching you open?"

You can’t answer—not when he thrusts into you for the first time without warning, deep, slow, torturously precise. He grins, watching you struggle for words, for coherence, for control you no longer have.

"I should make you read it out loud," he muses, dragging his lips over your jaw, down your throat. "Every filthy little thought you've had about me. Bet you'd sound so fucking pretty, voice all shaky while I fuck you just like you wrote."

His fingers find the phone again, lifting it between you as he thrusts slow and deep, dragging every inch of his cock against your fluttering walls. You whimper, back arching beneath him, but he doesn’t let up—doesn’t give you a second to breathe.

"Go on," he murmurs, voice dark, commanding. "Read it, baby."

Your lips part, but nothing comes out—just soft, broken breaths as he rolls his hips, his cock hitting that devastatingly eager spot inside you. His grip tightens on your jaw, tilting your face up, eyes locking onto yours.

"You wrote all this nasty shit about me, but now you’re too shy to say it out loud?" He clicks his tongue, mock disappointment lacing his tone. "Guess I’ll have to remind you how to use your voice."

His next thrust is brutal, knocking the air from your lungs. You can feel his the mix of his precum and your spit gliding against your walls as he pushes deeper and deeper into your cervix, his thrusts brutal.

The phone shakes in your hands as you scramble to focus on the words, on the story you wrote—fantasies that are now reality, playing out exactly as you imagined.

"I… I wanted him to—fuck—ruin me," you stammer, eyes threatening to roll back as he keeps that relentless pace. "T-To make me forget—"

He groans, cutting you off with another deep thrust. "That’s right, baby. Keep going."

You swallow hard, your voice shaky, breathless. I want to be fucked so deep, so hard by him, I forget my own name—only know his."

A low growl rumbles from his chest. "Already is, sweetheart." His hand snakes between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that send pleasure shooting up your spine.

That what you wanted, baby?" he taunts, his voice rough, dark. "Me fucking you so dumb you forget everything but my name?"

You can’t answer—not when his fingers dig into your hips, not when his other hand presses down on your lower stomach, pressing against the small indent from his cock thrusting inside of you, making you feel every inch of him inside you.

"Say it," he orders, his fingers on your clit slowing to teasing, feather-light strokes. "Tell me you wrote this shit hoping I'd find it. Hoping I’d do exactly this to you."

Your breath shudders, =the embarrassment making it all so much worse, so much better. "I-I—fuck—I wanted this," you confess, voice wrecked, barely more than a whisper.

He groans, head dropping against your throat as his pace falters for a second, just enough for you to feel the way he’s losing control too. The way his cock is swelling inside of you as he groans out, his fingers bruising you as his eyebrows furrow, fucking into your pussy so desperately.

But then he’s right back at it—fucking you deep, hard, relentless.

"You wanted me to ruin you?" he growls, his teeth dragging against your pulse. "Then you better fucking take it."

The phone slips from your hands, forgotten, as he fucks into you harder, his words tangling with the obscene sounds of skin meeting skin, lost by the mixture of his steady whimpers and your moans.

His grip on your throat tightens just enough to make your pulse stutter, enough to keep you anchored to him as he claims every inch of you.

"Takin' my cock s'well baby, god.." he growls, his breath hot against your ear. "Dripping all over my cock while you read that filthy shit you wrote about me. Bet you touched yourself thinking about this, huh?"

"Be honest, baby. You wanted this for so long, didn’t you?" His voice drops to something almost mocking. "Sat in your bed at night, fingers between your legs, thinking about me stretching you open just like this?"

His grip on your waist bruises as he snaps his hips forward, fucking you even deeper, his cock pressing against your sweet spot with every brutal thrust.

"Come on, sweetheart," he pants, his rhythm faltering, his own control slipping. "Give it to me. Come for me like you did all those fuckin' times when you thought about me doing this to you."

His thrusts turn frantic, sloppy, driven by pure, unrestrained need.

Chris' grip tightens, fingers digging so deep into your flesh that you know you’ll feel him there long after this moment is over.

Your walls pulse around his cock, pulling him deeper.

The strangled cry that leaves your lips is swallowed by his own low, guttural groan—all of his control finally snapping as he becomes nothing more than someone so fucking desperate to get off with you.

His hips slam forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you, filling you up with his hot come, claiming you from the inside out. His head falls forward, pressing against yours, brows furrowed, mouth parted as he shudders through the aftershocks, shaking as he empties all of his come into your sopping cunt.

His breath is ragged, uneven, and the way his muscles tense, the way his jaw clenches—it’s intoxicating.

His fingers twitch against your skin, like he wants to hold on tighter, like he never wants to let go.

A deep, wrecked groan rumbles from his chest, his eyes squeezing shut as he pulses inside you, stretching out every last drop of pleasure.

For a long moment, he just stays there—forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling with your own just as his come is inside of you.

After a beat, his lips curl into a lazy, satisfied smirk, as he chuckles, still holding you.

His arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer, like he’s still trying to catch his breath. .His nose brushes against yours, and for a second, he just stays there—forehead to forehead, his warmth sinking into you as if he never wants to let go.

Then, with a lazy, satisfied smirk, he chuckles, voice still hoarse, still wrecked.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and you can feel his lips curve against your cheek. “Guess that makes us even now, huh?”

You blink up at him, dazed, and he grins, shifting just enough to nip at your bottom lip. “You owed me, remember?” he teases, his voice dripping with smug amusement.

Your brows furrow for a second before it clicks—the meet and greet. The night you met him. When he had you so close backstage, only for him to be pulled away, leaving you hanging for so long.

Your face heats, and he laughs, nudging his nose against your temple. “Took you long enough to come back to me, I couldn't stop thinking about you either," he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “But I guess I can’t complain. You pay up real fuckin’ sweet, even if i had to be a little mean to match your fantasies.”

He shifts, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him, wrapping himself around you like he has no plans of letting go. And, as his fingers lazily trace patterns against your skin, his heartbeat steady beneath your palm, you think you wouldn’t mind if he never did.

thank you for reading !! if you saw this a few days ago, no u didn't babe um

𖧧 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

@chriss-slutt @55sturn @chrysiie @il0vey0um0st @trustinsturniolos @v4lsturn @shitttttypoet @mattsplaything @emely9274 @pip4444chris @whore4mattsturniolo @sweetshuga @courta13 @divinesturn @aaliyahsturniolo @chris-hallelujah @mi-co-uk @ivysturnss @sweetpeabreezyree @christophersgf @bluestriips @angelic-sturniolos111 @shadowthesim237 @bee-43 @eeyoresturnz @ellssturn @fratbrochrisgf @le4hsblog @spinninnn @starficss @2muchofaslvt @mattsgfff @princesspeach0-0 @iloveturtles0310 @middlepartsmattgf @xoxo-stellea @sturnsclam

[phone4pills]

HIS PLEASURE Matt x virgin!Reader

smut, p in v sex, rough, orgasm, crying, doggy position, swearing

Matt’s tip slowly aligned with your opening and instantly, a shiver of anxiety shot through you like a flaming meteor through the dark and starless sky that was your body. You’d never felt anything like it. You were new to this type of touch. “M…” You muttered, unable to release the tension of each sensation forming within you.

The dark-haired boy kneaded the soft skin on your hip, gently leaning over you to plant a feather-light kiss on your neck. Your head fell, instinctively, to the side, giving him more space to exert more passion. His hot breaths fanned over the racing pulse that pounded under your skin. His lips parted to nibble at the surface, eliciting a hushed moan from your throat.

Something about your virgin figure on all fours in his bed flipped a switch inside Matt. He’d never felt so deprived of a girl before, so incredibly hungry for her. Something about you had him so feral it was almost dangerous. And although he knew he should take things slow during your first time, his urge to fuck every penny of innocence out of you blinded him, leaving him unable to hold back from ruining your precious being.

So, of course, his little nips became harsh bites that trapped your skin between his teeth. Giving him the ability to suck on your sweet spots, leaving his mark on you as if he were painting a canvas. And immediately, the oxygen was caught in your chest, forming a tight knot of nerves around your erupting heart.

Between his massacres of your pride, Matt spoke to you. “What’s the safe word, y/n? Can you say it f’me?”

You didn’t know. Could you? Your mouth was so dry and you could barely get in a breath, but you managed to force it out. “R-rootbeer.” Matt was sure now. You were ready.

After rubbing up and down his length a couple times, Matt plunged into you. He pulled your waist back and pushed it away, creating more friction between your bodies. Your head fell back, mouth wide open as sounds you’d never thought you could make escaped your once pure lips. It was all so much, the pain, the burning feel of his cock slamming into you, the thought of Matt being buried deep inside you where you’re shaky, worthless fingers couldn’t reach, hitting the spots you didn’t even know existed.

It was almost too much for you, and this became clear when tears began to slip from beneath your furrowed brows. Your sinless, youthful eyes were filled with the warm waters of his ruthless pounding. “M- Matt…”

You choked out a few sobs, your body reacting to his in a fragile way. Your knees began to feel strengthless under his weight, causing your legs to shake. But somehow, with each wet slap of his balls against your ass, you craved more of the boy. More of his pleasure and more of his pain.

Matt groaned into your neck, panting heavily as he gained pace. Soon, his dick was sliding in and out of you faster than either of you could comprehend. Every time his tip rammed into your cervix, you were thrown over the edge. The ball in your stomach grew larger and larger. Sweat was dripping down your face, your body was hot as the sun and Matt’s skin was flush against yours.

You thought you could last longer but when his hand came down on your ass, snaking its way around to fondle your clit, it was game over. Your moans were trapped in your throat again, all you could manage to do was roll your eyes back as your opened lips became wet with saliva. Then you came undone. Releasing your silky clearness onto his cock.

Matt chuckled, watching your face contort to his will. Gradually, his railing came to a slower pace as his tip throbbed within your folds. He pulled out and pushed it in one final time before flipping you onto your back and pushing you down on the sheets. “G’me a hand hm? Make me cum, baby.” He navigated your hand to his erection, wrapping your fingers in a tight curl around his girth. Naturally, he was far too big to cup fully. Your fingers were unable to find your palm around him but it didn’t mean much to him.

You began to toss and pleasure his penis. It was hypnotic, the way your hand milked him effortlessly well. His movements faltered and his brows hardened, a few lines forming on his forehead as you talked him through his orgasm, still rubbing his length at a steady pace and ultimately wringing his cock out of all its juices and allowing the white strings of his warm cum pool on your stomach. For a split moment, you found yourself in control and there was nothing Matt could do about it. All he could utter was a few words of cursing. “Fuck, you’re lewd for a first timer.”

These very words flew to the top of your list. Your list of most touching compliments.

Thanks for reading! Make sure you follow for more content and check out my MASTERLIST. The pharmacy is open and taking requests.

- ©phone4pills

[eclipsturns]

𔓕⠀﹫ christophersturniolo needs comfort ﹙just like you﹚﹗

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ࿙࿚֒ ࿙࿚ ࡛ ֹ warning ! ۟

alright, i want to start this by making it clear that what you’re about to read is definitely an angst-style story, so, just a heads-up, the content might stir up some strong emotions, especially if you relate to the themes i’m touching on.

now, with that said, i also want to clarify that this is a fictional piece! i’m not suggesting that what i’ve written reflects what chris is going through in his personal life (which, by the way, isn’t my place to speculate about or anyone else’s, except his own), but in his openness—whether it’s meant to be funny or not—in the instagram story he posted today, i finally found the push i needed to write something and break out of my writer’s block.

so, even though the circumstances aren’t the best, deep down i’m thankful for the positive impact chris has on my life and so many others, whether he realizes it or not.

chris was drowning, sinking beneath a tidal wave of despair that crushed his ribs, a relentless, jagged weight that turned every breath into a gasping plea for air.

the house pulsed with chaos: nick’s voice sliced through the walls, a shrill blade of frustration over some edit gone wrong, matt’s slams of kitchen drawers thundered like gunshots, and the tv’s looped ad screeched in chris’s skull, a mockery of normalcy he couldn’t escape.

it was a suffocating storm, and he was a ghost in its eye, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it’d rip through his chest, his stomach twisting into sick, tight knots.

he tried to claw his way out, tossing a brittle, “y’all sound like a damn war zone, man, just chill,” into the fray, but his voice shattered mid-sentence, a fragile, desperate SOS buried in the cracks.

nick’s snort stabbed at him, matt’s rummaging didn’t falter, and chris felt it—the crushing realization that they couldn’t hear the scream clawing up his throat, couldn’t see the panic bleeding from his eyes.

his hands shook violently as he snatched his hoodie, black, frayed, soaked in the scent of his own sweat and sleepless nights, yanking it over his head like armor against the void.

his sneakers scraped on, laces dangling like broken lifelines, and he muttered, “i’m out,” so low it was a whisper to himself, a plea lost in the noise. no one turned, no one questioned, and when the door slammed shut behind him, a deafening crack that echoed through his bones.

the california air hit him like a slap, warm and cloying, wrapping around his lungs like a noose.

he didn’t do this, he didn’t go out alone; nick and matt were his lifeline, his loud, chaotic tether to sanity, and without them, the world yawned open, a vast, hollow abyss that swallowed him whole.

loneliness wasn’t just fear, no, it was a visceral, icy terror that sank its teeth into his gut, twisting until he wanted to scream, but he couldn’t stay in that house, couldn’t choke down the anguish festering in his silence.

he stumbled down the street, head bowed, hands shoved deep into his pockets, fingers curling into fists to stop the trembling. his chest was a vice; each breath a shallow, ragged stab, each thought a razor slicing through his mind, drawing blood he couldn’t see but felt in every shuddering pulse.

he didn’t choose the pizza joint, it just appeared, a flickering neon “open” sign buzzing like a lifeline in the dusk, a random spot in the california sprawl he’d usually crash with his brothers, their laughter a balm he couldn’t find now.

the door swung open, bell jangling like a funeral chime, and the warm rush of dough and pepperoni hit him—once a comfort, now a hollow echo that twisted his insides into a tighter knot.

“large pepperoni, pepsi.” he ordered, voice dead and mechanical.

his ritual, his sanctuary, the things that used to stitch him back together, but when the guy shoved the box and can across the counter, they landed like lead in his unsteady hands. chris collapsed into a corner booth, the vinyl groaning under his weight, and stared at the pizza—steam curling like ghosts, cheese glistening—but it turned his stomach, a nauseous wave crashing over him, bile rising in his throat.

he cracked the pepsi, the hiss mocking him, and took a sip, but it felt flat, bitter, a cruel parody of the joy it once held.

his eyes burned, hot and stinging, his throat a raw, searing mess as he clenched his jaw until it ached, fighting the sob clawing its way up, but it was too late, his chest heaved, a silent scream trapped inside, and the tears spilled, scalding trails down his cheeks he couldn’t stop.

then, she walked in...

not a storm, not a shout, just a quiet presence slipping into the booth across from him. her hair was a tangled wreck, eyes swollen and bloodshot like she’d been sobbing her soul out, a half-eaten slice crumpled on a napkin, soda clutched in white-knuckled hands like it was her last thread.

“you look like hell,” she said, voice soft but piercing in some type of way, cutting through the fog, and chris flinched, a choked, jagged laugh bursting free, all harsh and broken, a sound that ripped at his raw throat.

“you ain’t exactly a ray of fuckin’ sunshine,” he rasped, voice trembling with the weight of unshed tears, and she offered a faint, exhausted smile; not forced, just real, a lifeline in the wreckage.

“bad day?” she asked, and it wasn’t the shrill fan squeal he braced for, instead, she was a quiet, aching echo of his own pain, slicing through his defenses like a knife.

“bad fuckin’ everything,” he choked, head dropping into his hands, fingers yanking at his hair, a desperate anchor against the flood. “can’t... fuck, i can’t get it out. i’m fallin’ apart, y’know?” the words tore free, shredded and bleeding, and his chest caved in, breaths short and gasping, panic surging like a wildfire.

she nodded, slow, her own grief carved into the slump of her frame, the quiver in her lip. “me too,” she whispered, voice fracturing. “family’s a war zone where everyone is screaming, shoving me aside, acting like i’m nothing. came here ‘cause pizza’s supposed to fix it, right?” her laugh was a broken shard, slicing the air, and chris’s matched it, echoing her despair.

“yeah, it should,” he croaked, shoving the box toward her, a shaky offering, and she took a slice, chewing in silence.

the quiet stretched, feeling dense, suffocating, a shared wound pulsing between them, their breaths hitching in sync.

“i’m y/n,” she said after a while, wiping grease on her jeans, voice barely above a whisper, and chris blinked, the simplicity of it piercing him.

“chris,” he mumbled, though she probably knew—fans always did—but she didn’t leap, didn’t fawn, just held his gaze, steady and shattered.

“i watch you,” she confessed, soft, “but i’m not here for that; you looked like you were dying and i know that look, i live it every day.” her eyes locked on his, red-rimmed and unflinching, and the dam inside him burst: words spilling, voice cracking, tears streaming like rivers of fire down his face.

“i can’t keep goin’,” he sobbed, hands clawing the table, nails scraping wood as his voice broke into shards. “nick, matt—they’re laughin’, they don’t hear me screamin’ inside. i’m so fuckin’ stressed, so empty, and i hate, really hate bein’ alone, but i can’t stay there.”

the sob tore free, loud and ugly, shaking his whole body, and he despised it: the vulnerability, the agony spilling out, the way his chest felt like it was caving in.

but she didn’t recoil, didn’t judge, just sat there, her own tears falling now.

“i get it,” she said, voice a trembling thread, steady despite the cracks. “my dad yells and i hold my breath ‘til my lungs collapse, my mom pretends i’m not even alive, and i’m just… begging to fit, but i don’t. i’m lost, chris.” a tear slipped free, carving a path down her cheek, and she swiped it away, fierce and fragile, but they were both crumbling now, their pain bleeding across this stained table, a mirror of misery.

time melted—minutes, hours, an eternity of tears and choked laughter, voices raw as sandpaper.

she spoke of her dad’s rage, her mom’s silence shredding her; chris confessed the sleepless nights, the panic clawing his chest, the suffocating mask he wore.

it was brutal, chaotic, achingly human, and for once, he wasn’t alone, maybe not with his brothers’ noise, but with her quiet, broken presence, seeing every jagged piece he’d hidden.

“they’re still there,” she rasped after a while, voice scraped hollow, nodding at the half-devoured pizza, a testament to their shared survival. “your brothers, your fans—me, even. we’re here, chris, even when it’s fuckin’ unbearable.” her gaze met his, bloodshot but piercing, and it slammed into him—a wrenching, visceral ache, not just pain but a flicker of something else, something trembling and alive.

“maybe,” he whispered, voice a ghost, wiping his face with his sleeve, the fabric damp with tears and snot.

he didn’t know if he could hold it—not truly—but her words burrowed deep, sharp and tender, slicing through the suffocating dark. he was still shattered, still terrified, a hollow shell trembling on the edge, but there was a pulse now, faint, fragile, beating beneath the ruin.

she stood, grabbing her soda, and glanced back, her silhouette framed by the dim light. “don’t fade away, chris,” she said, voice a quiet, trembling plea, then slipped out, the bell’s chime a soft wail as the door swung shut.

chris stayed, alone again, pizza cold and stiff, pepsi a flat puddle in the can, his chest a cavern of grief—but it shifted, softened by a thread he couldn’t name.

he didn’t know if he’d go back, if he’d find her again, if this changed the tide or if he’d sink deeper still. he just sat there, staring at the empty booth, tears drying into salty trails, heart thudding a broken rhythm, lost in the vast, aching unknown.

© eclipsturns 's all rights deserved !ㅤ ꕀ ⠀⠀𔘓⠀⠀⠀

[freshluvr]

house party with dealer!chris and sweet!reader

⚠︎ mentions of underage drinking & drug use, mentions of drunk people, use of y/n - if there’s anything else lmk xx ⚠︎

Chris pulled up to the front of the house, one hand on the steering wheel, the other high up on y/n’s thigh. Y/n gently rests her hand on top of Chris’, her thumb rubbing back and forth unconsciously. Her knee bounces up and down with nerves, biting the nails on her right hand harshly. One the car is in park, Chris looks over at y/n, scoffing slightly and pulling her fingers away from her mouth.

“Relax ma, I ain’t gonna let nothing bad happen. I gotchu.” He speaks smoothly, holding both of her hands firmly in one of his as he used the other to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He admires her, looking at the beautifully done makeup on her face - making her look more delicate than ever. He admires her clean, shiny hair and the way it was styled in pretty waves. He admired the short, floral, dark red sundress she was wearing - not because of how good it made her tits look or how much of her legs it showed off, but because of how genuinely gorgeous he thought it made her look. Chris was admiring her so intently, that he didn’t even realise the car had been engulfed in silence until y/n spoke up.

“What’s wrong? Is my makeup rubbed off? Can you see my spots?” She panicked, turning to look in the rear view mirror. Before she even had a chance to worry about her acne showing or her makeup not looking good, Chris gently grabbed her chin and turned her head towards him. He leans in to kiss her, but she pulls away slightly. “I’ll get lipstick on you!” She giggles slightly.

“Good. Let everyone know I’m yours.” He pulls her in again, more firmly this time so she can’t pull away, but still ever so gently. After a few seconds, they pull away. y/n is blushing like an idiot, and Chris is looking lovingly into her doe eyes. “I fuckin’ love you ma.” He states intensely, not stuttering and not breaking eye contact as he said it. This made y/n blush even more ferociously. Sure, they’d said they loved each other before, but never so intimately. Never so assertively.

“I love you too Chris.” She beams, kissing his cheek gently before reaching to rub off the gloss she’d left printed. All Chris did was grab her wrist and shake his head, insisting that it was kept on there. She smiled warmly, and they both got out the car. y/n walked round to Chris’ side and grabbed a hold of his hand gently. As soon as he felt this, Chris gripped her hand back, pulling her inside.

The music was booming, vibrating off the walls. Chris dapped up a few of his mates, introducing y/n to the ones she hadn’t yet met. She waved politely and made conversation with a couple of them whilst Chris was sorting out business. Despite him being busy selling to all sorts of people throughout the night, Chris always ensured he stayed close to y/n. He didn’t stop her from doing anything, but monitored everything she was doing to make sure she was safe.

y/n nursed her fourth cup of whatever concoction was in the punch bowl, swaying slightly as she talked to some friends she’d seen. Then, ‘come on Eileen’ started playing through the speakers. y/n gasped with utter joy and span around, making eye contact with Chris. He knew no matter what he said, there was no getting out of what was about to happen.

You see, the perks of being a wallflower was one of y/n’s favourite movies of all time. After watching it multiple times whilst staying over at Chris’ house, she asked him to learn the dance with her. They went back and forth a little, Chris not wanting to do it and y/n wanting nothing more, but ultimately Chris knew he couldn’t reject this idea. So, despite the minimal effort he put into it, the ‘come on Eileen’ dance was now their dance, and they’d do it whenever the song came on. No exceptions. No way out of it.

y/n smiled at him and pulled him towards the centre of the living room, preparing to start. Chris tried his hardest not to crack a smile, but seeing the tipsy girl look so happy was making it insanely difficult. As they danced, they got many looks from the people around. Some people were looking impressed, mostly at the fact that Chris had agreed to not only learn the dance but also do it in public, whilst others just simply rolled their eyes. Despite the little effort Chris was putting into it, in an attempt to keep up his cold dealer persona, y/n couldn’t be happier. Once the dance section was over, she threw herself into Chris’ chest, wrapping her arms around his neck whilst his hands found themselves cupping her ass. She kissed him lovingly yet passionately, smiling into it as she did so.

Normally, y/n wasn’t one for PDA as she was too afraid of making people uncomfortable. However, the pure serotonin racing through her body combined with the heavy mixture of alcohol she had consumed was doing nothing for her social awareness. She pulled away and looked down, blushing for what felt like the millionth time that day, smiling to herself like an idiot. Chris’ hands moved, one gripping her waist possessively and the other moving gently to her neck, his thumb pushing her chin up to make eye contact with him once more. He leaned down again and kissed her forehead, just wanting to hold her close.

The moment was sweet and comfortably intimate, until someone walked over to Chris and tapped his shoulder. Chris rolled his eyes and turned to face the interrupting boy - still keeping one hand on y/n’s waist. Once she realised what the boy wanted, y/n pulled away from Chris and told him she was going to find her friends again. He nodded and petted her head as she walked away, not being able to help but check her out as her hips swayed further and further away.

Unable to find her friends, y/n settled at the drinks table, filling cup after cup with the sweet tasting alcohol. She stood on her own, scanning the crowd for anyone she recognised, reaching into her bra to pull out her strawberry vape. She stood there, puffing the crystal bar from one hand and holding her drink in the other. Seconds turned into minutes, which then turned into half an hour before Chris finally found her again. By this point, she was barely standing on her own. Chris found her supporting her weight on the wall as she puffed on her vape, smiling at nothing in her drunken state.

“How much you drank, ma?” He questioned, taking her face in both of his hands gently. She simply shrugged at his question, giggling to herself even though nothing was funny. He rolled his eyes playfully at her, speaking to her in a soft tone. “You ready to go?” He didn’t want to leave, knowing that the later he stayed, the better business would be for him. But right now, looking at the state his girl was in, he wasn’t bothered about the sale. All he was bothered about was her.

y/n pouted slightly, shaking her head a little too fast which made her slightly dizzy. She gripped onto Chris’ arms to stabilise herself before speaking slowly. “I’m having funnnn… you go sell some weed and I’ll stay here with the drinks and make friends.” She slurred, smiling innocently at Chris under his harsh gaze. At first, Chris considered listening to her, but then he saw her slow blinks and the way her eyes were rolling back slightly. He shook his head at her, picking her up like a koala which allowed her to wrap her legs around his waist. “We’re goin’ home, m’kay. Imma look after you.”

“Chris…” y/n whispered sleepily into his ear as he carried her to the car. He hummed in response, waiting for her to continue. “Thank you for tonight… for dancing with me. You made me happy… you make me happy.”

“I’ll always dance wi’ you doll.”

Let me know if you like this and also send in some ideas on what to write either in the comments or in my inbox!!!

creds to @bernardsbendystraws for the amazing dividers once again!!!

tag: @chrissweetheart @dealerchrisgf @sturniololover-09 @lvrsturniolo @adoreeelana

𝐉ꨄ

[phosphns]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ highschool!chris makes up to you after an argument 」

warns. established relationship. angst. arguments. mentions of crying. cursing. pet names [baby]. happy ending. fluff. making out. getting caught. no use of y/n.

it has been a stressful week for both of you. being in the last year of highschool means that soon you would have to graduate, and so being under the pressure of the teachers and to choose among the ample variety of colleges.

you and chris aren’t the types to argue frequently. you would bicker about something stupid, leading into some pointless arguments which were always resolved before you go to sleep.

always. you never go to sleep angry at each other; it was like an unwritten rule, something that didn’t need to be clarify. you both knew it, and you respected that.

but yesterday it’d been different. after you both came home from the party your friends in common threw, you got into a big argument — the first one which was actually bad in your five-months old relationship.

it started with you, being a little tipsy, starting to complain about the party and the fact that he made you go. you really weren’t feeling like partying — not after the horrible weeks you have been and the stress over classes — but eventually you gave in, to make him happy. obviously, being under the influence, everything you were thinking came out of your mouth, maybe a little rougher than you wanted it to be.

it escalated quickly: him telling you you needed to let it go and live a little. “being the way you are won’t get you anywhere”. “you couldn’t do this without complaining, could you?”. you telling him he was a heartless asshole, who didn’t understand you and could never do. there had been shouts, tears, clenched fits, hurtful silences.

the night had ended up with you crying yourself to sleep, murmuring low-tone insults at him and feeling guilty about it right after and him sprawled out in the middle of the couch, with his head resting against the headboard and his eyes closed, as to force his mind to erase that night from his memory.

the next morning, nothing happens except for you waking up and finding chris in the living room of his house. his brothers are already gone — you couldn’t manage to confront them about last night. his back is facing you as he ties his shoes, a black backpack hanging from one of his shoulder.

you don’t say anything, watching him from the kitchen table. you really want to do something. greet him, apologize to him, hug him. but you don’t. you keep standing across the room, wrapped in your robe and a plush blanket. your eyes are still tired and puffy from the crying, tangled hair frames your exhausted face.

he feels your eyes burn on his back, but like you, he chooses the silent — either too worn out or too prideful. he takes his keys and before he walks out the door he turns around to take a look at you. you see his blank expression, his eyes heavy with dark circles around them, sign that he didn’t sleep much last night.

just when you were about to say something, he closed the door behind him, leaving you alone in the room filled with tension and unspoken thoughts.

your day at school wasn’t being different than any of the previous ones, boring and stressful as always, but everyone could tell something was off — more off than usual.

there isn’t that sassy, handsome, always-in-a-sulky-mood boy of yours by your side. there isn’t his hand on your waist and your backpack on his shoulder. there aren’t his flirty comments in your ears and those looks he gives you before leaving for a class. nothing. you never felt so alone.

maybe you are too dependent from him, true, but what can you say? “if y’all had a boyfriend like mine, maybe you would understand. too bad he’s mine,” was your top one excuse and answer to whoever said that to you. not today though.

however, your bad mood is fading into curiosity when you notice a crowd in your maths class — the one you most hate, because truth to be spoken, you and numbers are like sun and moon.

you step into the classroom, which is noisy with murmurs and whispers, only to notice that the crowd is around the desk you always seated in.

everybody turns around to look at you, curious eyes looking you from head to toe, with an hint of jealousy in the girls’ faces. you make your way through the students and your eyes widen.

no way.

on your desk sits an enormous bouquet of peonies — your favorite flowers of all time. the petals, soft and layered, come in shades of red and pink, some blooms fully open while others remain gently closed. a light, sweet scent lingers in the air, and a few dewdrops cling to the petals. the mix of large and small flowers gives the bouquet a natural, effortless beauty.

your eyes threaten to well up with tears as you picked up the little note that was attached to the black string that tied the envelope.

you finish reading the piece of paper with a god-i’m-so-in-love type of smile, pulling the flowers to your chest and ignoring everyone else in the room — none of them matters. you lift your head and look at the door, spotting a familiar figure just outside.

trying not to be rude at people who asked you questions about the situation, you finally walk out the class, leaving people confused and wondering, even if after five minutes they were already back to their business.

when you step out of the room, you’re instantly pulled by a hand on your arm, which you recognize as his. you look up at him, he was smiling and more beautiful than ever. “chris,” you mumble, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. he brushed his hand on your waist, but doesn’t stop there, almost fearing your reaction.

“ ‘m so sorry baby — i should’ve never said those horrible things to ya. you didn’t deserve it and i was being an asshole, you’re perfect the way ya are, y’know it,” he starts rambling about how sorry he was, like he was handing his heart to you.

“chris, it’s okay, i’m sorry too, really much. i said some hurtful things too and i’m so sorry, i love you too so much,” you interrupt him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

you feel him relax under your touch, finally gripping your waist with his hands, pulling you into him. “y’sure? ‘could buy fuckin’ fifteen more of those flowers you like if y’want me to,” he whispered, his lips just inches away from yours as you feel his warm breath on your face.

“mhm… fourteen will be fine, don’t worry,” i tease him, our lips touching slightly as i speak slowly, enjoying the intimate moment not minding the circumstances we are in — school, for example.

he chuckles, before sliding a hand underneath my shirt to grip my waist better and pushing me against the nearest wall. my breath hitching as he slams his lips against mine, inviting my tongue to dance with his in a slow but heated embrace. my hands gripped to his hair while his grab on my waist lowered to squeeze my ass, fortunately covered by the near locket.

the kiss is overwhelming, full of emotions and love. it makes up for yesterday’s argument and the ones that still had to come, but now with the assurance of your boyfriend.

when you finally pull out, it’s because you’re feeling observed — your P.E. teacher, who was also chris’ coach, is looking at you half disgusted and half proud of his player.

“ugh.. sturniolo, when you’re done, would you do us the honor of joining the team for goodbyes?” he asks, “if you aren’t too busy, obviously,” he adds sarcastically.

chris is not even the slightest bit embarrassed as he pulls away annoyed, keeping his arm wrapped around your shoulder. he winks at you, “nah, i think i’m too busy today, coach,” he replied shrugging, turning both you and him around and walking you out of the school’s walls, ignoring his coach’s curses.

you look up at him, once outside, and smile. “so, where are we going?” you ask him, to which he responds with,“to make out in my car for at least ten minutes, first of all.”

yaps. yaalll i loved this he’s so cute. also it’s a special both for valentine’s day and my birthday which was yesterday! hope you enjoyed <3

tags 💌 @ultrviolenxe ៹ @courta13 ៹ @chriss-slutt ៹ @chrissbows .

wc. 1,3k

[chrisbesitos]

Chris calling u all night during the vlog.

“I love mini pizza. Also yn is on the phone say hi baby. She’s in Canada right now” Chris says taking another bite of his food

“hey my lovies I’m in Canada visiting fammmmm

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀chris loves y/n and mini pizza.

"Feeling bad? Mini pizza. Feeling happy? Mini pizza. Sleep bad? Mini pizza. Sleep well? Mini pizza." Chris says, yapping about how much he loves mini pizza. He's spending a week away from his brothers and to increase the experience, you decided to visit your parents in your hometown in Canada. So, he's kinda freaking out without his brothers and his girlfriend. "I love mini pizza. Also, I love my pretty girlfriend, she's on the phone with me right now, because she abandoned me for a week too." He says, with his mouth full with his lovely mini pizza.

"Baby, I need to see my parents!" You say through the phone call, giggling over your boyfriend suffering with the separation like a newborn without his mom. He's being dramatic, like he always is. "I'm gonna get back when you get back in LA and I'm in Toronto, it's not the fuckin' moon."

"It feels like you're on Mars." He huffs, you roll your eyes. "I'm recording, say 'hi' to the video, princess!" He shows his phone screen to the camera, showing you on your pajamas, laying on the couch of your parents house.

"Hi guys!" You wave, smiling big. Chris stares at the screen, smiling like a goofy. "I'm in Canada now, came to visit my parents! Next time, I promise I'll bring Chris with me."

"Please, never let me alone again!"

"You're a big baby, don't you?"

taglist | masterlist

[stonersturns]

𝚋𝚏!𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚜

★ ˖˚ ͙✩ ᖭིᖫྀ ⋆ ࣪ ★ ˖˚ ͙✩ ਏਓ ⋆ ࣪ ★ ˖˚ ͙✩ ᖭིᖫྀ ⋆ ࣪ ★ ˖˚ ͙✩ ਏਓ ⋆ ࣪ ★ ˖˚ ͙✩ ਏਓ ⋆ ࣪ ★

a/n: hello lovely’s!! i’m so sorry about not posting much. school is kicking my ass :( but here’s some filler content.. i’m currently working on a fic, but enjoy this!!

TW: swearing, suggestive content

🏷️: @sturniolo-fann @sturngemini @zariyam

★ ˖˚ ͙✩ ᖭིᖫྀ ⋆ ࣪ ★ ˖˚ ͙✩ ਏਓ ⋆ ࣪ ★ ˖˚ ͙✩ ᖭིᖫྀ ⋆ ࣪ ★ ˖˚ ͙✩ ਏਓ ⋆ ࣪ ★ ˖˚ ͙✩ ਏਓ ⋆ ࣪ ★

[chrispleasure]

voicenotes chris would send you.. fluff, established relationship

inspired by kiemiu! i cant tag her for some reason !

one: i saw this uhm.. ( 2 second silence ) pink nailset you wanted, and i may have bough it for you— ill you come over? maybe i can help you do them?

two: so i was out today with nick and madi, and i picked out a couple tops for you. i didn’t know what size you were so madi helped me out. your about.. her size? right?

three: hey, sorry for calling you at this hour of morning. i-i have to cancel our plans today. mom called and she needs us back in boston for a family emergency. i hope you understand. but- yeah, i love you.

four: hi baby, you left your bra here and i just wanted to let you know. come get it whenever you have time, byeee.

five: ( matt’s voice ) hi, uh.. yeah— chris wanted me to call you, he’s upset about something and wont leave his room. ( chris’s voice ) hi ma, please answer when you can.

six: we just got done filming a car video, and i know your probably busy since your not answering. but do you maybe wanna come for a drive with us? just to chill. n’ maybe you could stay over? i miss you baby.

seven: goodnight love, i just wanted to call and ask if your okay? your probably sleeping but i cant help but have a feeling your upset. call me anytime throughout the night if you need me. love you.

eight: im so mad right now— i cant even explain it! ( a loud stomp is heard ) fucking matt decided it would be funny to delete my netflix account! i lost my steve harrington profile picture from season 3! for fuck sake.. ( matt’s voice ) it wasn’t even that bad chris, shut— ( a loud slap is heard ) ( chris’s voice ) i love you, bye byeee.

taglist: @sturnobsessedwh0re @matthewsroses