Sugar

your fav couple is back with...fluff? who am i.

The golden haze of sunset spilled through your apartment windows, casting streaks of pink and amber across the floor. The air was thick with warmth, tinted with the slow, sultry vocals of Sade pouring from your speakers, wrapping the whole room in something soft and romantic.

You darted between countertops in a quiet frenzy. Mixing bowls, measuring cups, and half-open ingredient containers cluttered every surface in your tiny kitchen. “Brownie mix, eggs, flour…” you mumbled, checking off each item. The oven ticked as it preheated behind you, glowing faintly.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, hands already dusted with flour, despite not even starting the baking process, heart fluttering more than you wanted to admit. Everything was in place. Everything except him.

Right on cue, a knock echoed from the front door, sharp but familiar. Your breath caught for a moment, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Chris was here.

"Sup, angel," he smirks as you open the door for him. He was dressed in all black, gold chain dangling from his neck.

You couldn't help but grin back, heart skipping a beat. "Hey, baby." Your hand reached out for the bag dangling from his fingertips, your fingers brushing against his as you pulled him inside. The warm, familiar scent of weed and cologne wraps around you as you set the extra groceries down on the cramped kitchen counter, digging through the bags.

Chris groans behind you, his voice dripping with mock annoyance. "Y'know how fuckin' hard it was to find that cannabutter shit?" He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, burying his face in your hair, breathing deeply. "Told you we coulda just made it ourselves."

You giggle, a soft blush creeping up your neck as you leaned back into his embrace. "Well, now we know for next time."

His lips ghost over the back of your neck, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your spine. A shiver ran through you as he trailed light kisses down your skin, the warmth of his breath making your heart race.

As you move to the counter, pulling out the mixing bowl and a spatula, you could feel Chris’s red, half-lidded eyes on you, a mischievous glint in them as he leans against the counter. "So, what’s the plan here, angel? You need help, or do I just sit here while you have your lil' Martha Stewart moment?" His tone was low and teasing, and you could sense the playful smirk that lingered on his lips.

You shoot him a glance over your shoulder. "You can help, but I dunno if you’ll be much help," you tease, your fingers working deftly as you crack the eggs and add them to the bowl.

He groans dramatically at your words, rolling his eyes, knowing damn well you were right. "Whatever, kid." He steps closer, leaning down to peer into the bowl, his hand brushing against yours as he tries to sneak a taste of the brownie mix.

"Hey, greedy!" you laugh, swatting his hand away. "You never heard of salmonella?"

Chris pouts, feigning disappointment. "Jus' making sure it’s up to standard. Real ones don't get salmonella."

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Go measure out the flour. Since you're so eager to help." He gives a dramatic sigh at your orders, but moves to grab the flour anyway. He fumbles with the measuring cup, dumping a little too much into the bowl and scattering flour all over the counter, and all over his black shirt.

“Fuck this," he mutters to himself, feeling your prying eyes on him. He hated messing up anything, especially in front of you. He tries to clean up, but only manages to make a bigger mess, a red flush creeping up his neck. You stifle a laugh, continuing to mix the rest of the dry ingredients. "Fuck you laughin' at?" Chris tries to keep his hardened demeanor, hiding his embarassment.

"Nothing!" You say, grabbing the cup of flour from his hands, the smirk on your face growing. "Nothing at all, Chris."

Chris scoffs, going to wipe his hands off on his jeans, only to be met with white hand prints. "Whatever. Shit's too fuckin' messy, anyway."

"Thought you liked it messy?" A smile curling your lips he moves to stand behind you, watching you mix each ingredient with vigor.

"Only when it's you, angel." Chris’s eyes twinkle, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

You shiver slightly at the closeness, but play it cool, pretending to be more interesting in the brownies then you already were. "You better sit down somewhere before these brownies get forgotten about." You say as Chris trails warm kisses down your neck, his hands grabbing at every part of you, not caring that the two of you were almost completely covered in flour.

"Read my mind completely." He attempts to press a kiss to your lips, but you pull back, instead reaching for the cannabutter near the counter.

"A little goes a long way," You say smugly, dropping the jar into his hands. "Says you only need a little."

Chris shrugs. He rummages through your drawers, before pulling out the biggest spoon he could find. Reaching into the jar, he grabs way more than the recipe called for. His tolerance was obviously higher than the average, but there was no way either of you would survive this.

He drops the butter into the mixing bowl, pushing you aside and stiring the ingredients himself. "Needs a lil' of my love, you know what I mean?" He grins. "Gonna make sure these are the best brownies of your life." You roll your eyes at his insistence, but step back anyway, leaning against the counter.

"Turn this slow shit off. S'makin' me wanna fall asleep." Chris motions towards the speaker, still mixing the ingredients, now determined not to mess them up. "Put on Future or somethin'"

"Without Sade there wouldn't even be Future," you playfully hit his shoulder, reaching across him to grab your phone and change the playlist to one of his, Travis Scott replacing the sound of Sade's sultry vocals.

Once the brownies are in and the door shuts with a satisfying click, there’s a pause, just the sound of Chris' music still crooning from the speaker and the low hum of the preheated oven. The smell of brownies begins to swirl around the apartment, coating the air in sweet. You’re wiping your hands on a towel when you feel him at your back again, warmth radiating off him.

The moment between you is still. No petty arguments, no unspoken words. Just still. Peaceful. It's rare, and it feels amazing.

"You’re really dedicated to the craft,” you tease.

He shrugs, a smug little grin playing at his lips. “What can I say? I like makin’ sure you’re satisfied.”

You shoot him a look, trying not to smile too hard. “With brownies?”

“With everything.” His voice dips, low and lazy, his hand reaching out to smack your ass, earning a jolt from you. He leans against the counter, his eyes raking up and down your figure with eyes you know all too well.

“So…what we doin’ for the next thirty?” he asks.

You give him a look, leaning back on your elbows, letting your shirt ride up just a little. “Dunno. Was thinking about rearranging my spice cabinet."

Chris laughs, low and scratchy. “You got jokes now, huh?” He follows you, hands slipping around your waist. “You talk too much for someone standin’ here lookin’ better than the shit in the oven."

“You keep callin’ me a snack but ain’t eat nothin’ yet,” you shoot back, eyes fluttering up to meet his.

“Oh trust,” he murmurs, mouth ghosting over yours, “I’m tryna be patient. You know I don't stop 'til I finish.”

Your breath hitches, but you keep the same smirk. “Not even for the brownies?”

Chris pauses, like he’s seriously considering it. “…Depends. You gonna ride me while they cool off?”

You laugh, the sound slightly breathless. "Only you would get horny from making brownies."

He chuckles under his breath, tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip. “Ain’t nobody ever baked brownies lookin’ like that, angel. Don’t blame me.” He nudges your knees apart with his thigh, resting his hands on either side of you on the counter. “You don’t even gotta do anything—just sit there bein’ pretty.

He sniffs the air, the sweet aroma of weed and chocolate filling his nostrils. "Brownies, you on my lap, music loud as hell, neighbors gettin' mad again. Dunno about you, but it sound like a perfect night t'me."

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Might need to roll something first. Make it worth my while."

"Say less."

He’s already halfway to his backpack, digging for papers and a fresh nug, muttering, “You lucky you're my girl. Don't let anybody talk to me like that."

You raise a brow. “Oh, I’m your girl now?”

Chris glances up at you from where he’s grinding, sitting at your dining table. “You walkin' around, bakin’ weed brownies in those short ass shorts. I’m not not claiming you.”

You giggle, grabbing the lighter he left the last time he was here. The one with your face on it. “Alright, Romeo, shut up and spark it when you’re done.”

He steps close to you after rolling the joint, holding it up to your lips. "Better be getting dinner and a show after this."

warnings: the whole blurb is just smut and degradation so do with that what you will:)

“mm-fuck. y’ like this, huh?” y’think this is funny?” chris says, his cock slamming in and out of you at a rapid pace.

you thought it would be a silly little joke to wear a jersey with matt’s number on it to a game, well clearly chris didn’t get the joke.

his cock is beating you, stretching you out like it never had before. your hole is numb with pain at this point, orgasm after crashing over you.

“chris, ‘s too much, ‘m sorry, please-”

“you dirty whore, wearing my brothers jersey to a hockey game, that’s unacceptable.” chris grunts, ramming his cock into you like there’s no tomorrow.

it hurt so good, you could feel his hatred and anger seeping out of him as he ruthlessly pounded into you.

you feel a sharp sting on your ass, then you feel chris’ hands return to your waist, gripping you tight enough to leave nasty purple bruises as reminders of your mistake.

“chris, please-i cant no more, ‘s too much!” you cry.

chris ignores you, picking up the pace with his thrusts as he mercilessly fucks your pussy, his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust.

“s-say your sorry, don’t let it happen again.” chris demands, his hand grabbing your neck, forcing you to look up at him.

“i won’t, i promise!” you whine, nearing another climax.

“good. now, who’s the better brother?”

“you, chris!”

that’s all you both needed. his assertive dominance pushed you over the edge while your submissive whining made him climax.

you look in the bathroom mirror. you have red hand prints all over your ass, you have marks on your hips from the force of chris’ grip, and you have hickeys all over your neck and chest.

“chris, i look like an absolute wreck.”

“well now you know who you belong to, sweetheart.”

a/n: i lowk love this tbh

Head for the first time and taste cum for the first time

“come oonnn sugar, I won’t be that rough with ya’, yeah?” you were nervous wreck, I mean you never have really gave chris head but it wouldn’t be that different…right? “o-okay fine—just don’t expect me to be good at it okay?” chris nodded before he slowly unzipped his pants.

you swallowed hard once he finished pulling down his pants, you slowly brought you’re mouth close to his tip before you let a deep breathe out and just went for it.

besides you gagging a bit it was fine, you stared up at chris to make sure you were doing it right. his eyes were rolling back and he even grabbed you're hair into a makeshift ponytail. “ssshit sugar—ya’ don’t gotta be so fast with it” he groaned. so you slowed you’re pace down a bit till the three words left chris’s mouth.

“fuck—m’gonna cum” you didn’t know whether to keep going or to take your mouth off but it all happened to quick, once you felt a warm slightly thick liquid hit the back of you’re throat. it slowly dribbled down the side of you’re mouth before you pulled away.

you’ve never had chris cum in your mouth so you didn’t know what to do. “s’okay sugar you can spit out—“ then you just took a big gulp. “huh…didn’t taste that werid I guess…”

Fratboy!chris x toxic!fwb!reader

—

They haven’t talked in a month.

Thirty silent days.

You left him on read more times than you could count—and every time you almost caved, almost typed something back, you’d remember how easy it was for him to leave. How he made you feel like you weren’t enough, even when you were giving everything.

But that didn’t stop him from texting.

chris:

you still mad at me?

i know i fucked up. just please don’t leave me like this.

chris:

i don’t even know how to do this shit

like… being a boyfriend

i never had to learn before you.

and now i’m scared i ruined the only good thing i ever had.

chris:

i’m scared you hate me

i’m scared you’re gonna move on and actually find someone who knows how to love you right

and i’ll have to watch that happen knowing it should’ve been me.

chris:

please just talk to me.

i’ll take whatever you give me. a call. a text. a slap in the face. i don’t care.

chris:

i don’t sleep. i don’t eat.

i keep thinking about the look on your face that morning.

i keep hearing your voice saying my name like it didn’t even sound like me to you anymore.

chris:

i’m scared you meant it when you said you were done

because i’m not. not even a little bit.

chris:

i don’t know how to be good at this.

but i swear to god i’d learn if it meant keeping you.

chris:

you make me want to be someone better

and i don’t even know where to start without you.

chris:

please. say something.

chris:

anything.

A FEW DAYS LATER

Your phone had been silent all day, just how you liked it lately. But something in you cracked tonight. Maybe it was the way his last message sat there, unread. Maybe it was the ache in your chest that hadn’t left for weeks. Maybe it was just weakness. Either way, your fingers moved before your brain could stop them.

you:

hi.

You didn’t expect a reply immediately, but it came within seconds.

chris:

oh my god

hi

hi hi hi

you texted me. holy shit

chris:

can i come over??

please. i swear i won’t fuck it up.

i just need to see you. i’ll sleep on the floor. we don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to

please baby i miss you so much

chris:

i haven’t even looked at another girl. i swear on everything.

i miss your voice. your face. the way you yell at me when i piss you off.

everything.

You sat there staring at the screen, heart tight in your chest.

you:

just to talk. nothing else.

chris:

yes. yes, okay. just to talk.

i’ll be there in 10.

And he was. Ten minutes later, there was a soft knock on your door. You hesitated, then opened it.

He looked exhausted. Hair messy, dark circles under his eyes, hoodie wrinkled like he hadn’t changed in days. But his eyes lit up the second he saw you.

“Hi,” he whispered, like he couldn’t believe you were real.

You didn’t say anything—just moved aside to let him in.

The tension was thick as he stepped inside, shoving his hands in his pockets, unsure, awkward for once. He was nervous. Like he didn’t know where to stand.

You crossed your arms. “So. Talk.”

He nodded quickly, stepping closer. “I meant everything I said. Every single text. I haven’t stopped thinking about you, not once. And I know I’m not good at this, and I know I’ve hurt you, but I just—”

He stepped forward again, closer, slowly… then leaned in, his face inches from yours, eyes soft.

But you pulled back immediately, shaking your head. “Chris…”

He froze, eyes searching yours.

“I told you. We’re just talking.”

He swallowed hard, backing up, shame painting his face. “Right. Sorry.”

You sat down on the couch, and he followed. Silence stretched for a beat before you finally spoke.

“I think we should just be friends.”

Chris’s whole body stiffened. “What?”

“I think… that’s all we can be,” you said, voice quieter now. “I’m not doing this anymore. Not the back and forth. Not the disappearing. Not the waking up alone like I meant nothing. I can’t.”

His jaw clenched, chest rising and falling harder now. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

Chris shook his head, eyes wide and shining now. “No, no you don’t mean that. We’re not just friends. We never were. I know you still feel it.”

“I do,” you admitted. “But feeling it doesn’t mean I should do it again.”

He suddenly dropped to his knees in front of you, hands grabbing your thighs gently, like you were going to disappear.

“Please. Don’t do this. I’ll change. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just tell me what to do. Please.”

But you just stared at him, heart breaking all over again. Because you wanted to say yes. You wanted to reach for him. But you couldn’t.

“Get up, Chris.”

He looked up at you, breath shaky. “Y/N…”

“I can’t keep hurting myself over you.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt the tears hit your fingers.

He didn’t move.

Neither did you.

Everything was quiet—except your heart shattering again.

Chris was still on his knees, hands clutching at your thighs like if he let go, you’d disappear again. And maybe you would.

“Y/N,” he breathed, voice cracking.

You’d never seen him like this before. Not even close. Chris didn’t beg. He didn’t cry. He didn’t plead. But now? His eyes were glassy, lips trembling like he didn’t even know how to hold himself together anymore.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, okay?” he said, voice raw. “I don’t know how to be good at this. I don’t know how to be someone who’s good for you. But I’ve never wanted anything like I want you. Ever.”

You swallowed, hard, but didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Your throat was tight.

His fingers curled slightly, gripping your thighs like he needed to ground himself.

“I wake up and I check my phone hoping you changed your mind. I go to sleep hoping maybe tomorrow you’ll remember that I’m still here. Still trying.”

“Chris—”

“I fucked up, I know I fucked up. But I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just…” he paused, exhaling sharp. “I get scared. I always have. But losing you is scarier than anything else.”

His voice was getting quieter. His eyes were red now, rimmed with tears he kept blinking back, and failing.

“I don’t want anyone else. I can’t even think about anyone else. No one makes me laugh like you do. No one talks to me the way you do. You were always the one, even when I was too fucking stupid to realize it.”

A tear finally slid down his cheek, and he looked away, embarrassed, like he couldn’t believe he was letting you see him like this.

But you didn’t move. You didn’t say anything.

So he kept going.

“I don’t care if it takes months. Years. I’ll earn you back. Just… don’t walk away from me right now. Don’t tell me I’ve already lost you. Please.”

You looked down at him—this boy who never begged, never got emotional, never let anyone see him like this—and now he was falling apart in front of you.

“I’m on my knees for you,” he whispered. “I don’t beg for anyone. But I’ll beg for you every damn day if I have to.”

He leaned his head forward, resting it lightly against your knees, voice barely audible now.

“Don’t go.”

And you just sat there, frozen, heart cracked in two.

Because you didn’t know what to say.

And he looked like the only thing he’d ever believed in was you.

You took a deep breath, eyes still on him—his head lowered against your knees, his chest rising and falling like he couldn’t catch a breath. You felt like you couldn’t either. But you had to say it.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” you whispered.

His head lifted slightly, eyes searching yours like he misheard you—like maybe there was hope tucked behind those words.

But then you said it.

“We need to just be friends.”

It hit him like a slap.

He blinked, slowly, lips parting like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Just the sound of your voice—soft and steady now, like you’d rehearsed it a thousand times in your head.

“And if we’re gonna be friends,” you continued, your voice trembling, “then there’s gonna have to be rules.”

Chris stayed quiet. You could see the pain in his eyes, how badly he wanted to protest—but he didn’t. Maybe he couldn’t.

You swallowed and began to list them.

“You can’t flirt with me anymore. No more calling me baby. Or pretty girl. Or anything like that.”

He clenched his jaw but nodded, barely.

“You can’t come over late at night. You can’t sleep in my bed.”

He looked down at the floor, his hands falling away from your thighs.

“You can’t kiss me when you’re drunk. You can’t get jealous when I talk to other people. You can’t text me in the middle of the night when you’re lonely.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until your voice cracked.

“And you can’t look at me like you love me anymore.”

Chris shook his head slowly, like it was too much. Like every word was pulling something out of him.

“Y/N…” he breathed, voice shaking. “You’re asking me to kill every part of me that still wants you.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, trying to hold back the sob in your throat.

“I’m asking you to respect me,” you whispered. “To respect the fact that I can’t keep hurting like this.”

He blinked quickly, his eyes glossy again. “But I do love you.”

You stood up slowly, backing away from him like you couldn’t bear to be near him while he said that. “Then you’ll let me go.”

Chris stayed on the floor, completely still, watching you like you’d just walked away with the last piece of him.

—

A/N- This is an emotional rollercoaster.

FIRST REAL TIME

Nerd!Chris X Mean!Girl!Reader

Warnings) Smut w plot. Fingering. P in V (no protection)

—

Chris was gently kissing your neck while laying on your chest, his glasses slightly crooked, fogged at the corners, and his voice heavy with sleep and affection.

“I just love you so much,” he mumbled, lips brushing against your skin like a whisper.

You couldn’t help it—your breath hitched, your hand instinctively curling into his messy curls, and your thighs subtly pressed together.

“Chris…” you said, but it came out whiny—too whiny, and you regretted it the second his head lifted, eyes blinking up at you like he knew exactly what that tone meant.

“Hm?” he hummed softly, pretending not to notice the way your body shifted under him—but the teasing smile pulling at the corner of his lips gave him away.

You bit your lip. “Nothing…”

But Chris tilted his head and dragged his fingertips lazily along your hip. “That didn’t sound like nothing, baby…” His voice dropped lower, quieter. “Sounded like someone needed me.”

Your cheeks burned, but you stayed quiet. That just made him smirk more, sitting up slightly so he could hover over you, still close enough to feel his breath on your collarbone.

“Do you want something?” he asked gently, eyes flickering across your face, looking for any hint of what you weren’t saying.

You exhaled shakily, lips parting to respond—but he cut you off with a kiss to your jaw, then another under your ear.

“You know you can tell me…” he whispered, “Whatever it is. I’ll always take care of you.”

Your chest heaved, each breath shakier than the last, as Chris’s lips grazed the sensitive curve of your neck again, his kisses maddeningly slow, like he was savoring every twitch and sigh he pulled from you. Your hands, still loosely pinned above your head, flexed in his grip, fingers curling with the need to touch him, to ground yourself in the storm he was stirring inside you. His glasses nudged your skin as he dipped lower, kissing just above the swell of your chest, and you couldn’t take it anymore—the ache, the heat, the way he unraveled you with every teasing touch.

“Chris…” you whined, your voice breaking, high and desperate, your body arching toward him without permission. Your thighs pressed together, seeking relief, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough with him like this, all soft smirks and knowing glances.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver through you. “Still not gonna tell me?” he murmured, his lips brushing the edge of your collarbone now, his voice low and laced with that infuriating playfulness. “You’re killing me here, baby.”

Your cheeks burned, and you bit your lip so hard it stung, trying to hold back the words bubbling up in your throat. But his hands slid down, releasing your wrists to trail his fingers along your sides, grazing the bare skin under your shirt, and it was too much. The tension snapped like a taut string, and you couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“You,” you whispered, the word slipping out so softly it barely reached him, but it was enough. Your voice trembled, raw and needy, and you immediately wanted to hide your face again, mortified by how much you’d just given away.

Chris froze for a split second, his lips still pressed to your skin. Then he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his eyes glinting with something new—delight, triumph, and that teasing edge that made your stomach flip. “Ohhh,” he said, drawing the word out, his voice dripping with mock realization, like he’d just solved the world’s greatest mystery. His smirk was wicked, and the way he tilted his head, glasses slightly crooked, made your heart stutter. “So it’s me you want, huh?”

You groaned, turning your head to the side, your face flaming. “Shut up,” you mumbled, barely audible, your hands flying to cover your eyes. “You’re the worst.”

But Chris just laughed, soft and warm, and you felt him shift, his body settling closer, his warmth enveloping you. “The worst?” he teased, his lips brushing your jaw now, then the corner of your mouth. “I don’t think you mean that, sweetheart. Not when you’re looking at me like that.”

He gently pulled your hands away from your face, pinning them lightly to your sides this time, his thumbs stroking your wrists. His kisses started again, softer but no less deliberate, trailing down your throat, then back up to the sensitive spot behind your ear. “You want me,” he murmured, his voice a low hum against your skin, each word sinking into you like a spark. “That’s all you had to say, baby.”

You whimpered, your body betraying you again as you arched into him, your fingers curling into his shirt. “Chris, please…” you whined, still too shy to say more, but the way you tugged at him, the way your hips shifted, said everything you couldn’t.

He chuckled again, the sound vibrating through you as he kissed the dip of your shoulder, then lower, his lips brushing the edge of your ribcage. “Please what?” he asked, his tone playful but softer now, like he was coaxing you to admit it all over again. “You already said you want me… but I wanna hear what that means.”

You shook your head, lips parted, breath hitching as his hands slid under your shirt, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your sides. “You know,” you whined, your voice breaking into a pout, your thighs trembling as they pressed together again.

“Do I?” he teased, his lips hovering over your stomach now, his glasses nudging your skin as he kissed just above your navel. “Maybe I do… but I like hearing you say it.” He lifted his head, crawling back up to hover over you, his face so close his breath fanned across your lips. “Come on, love. Tell me again. Just one more time.”

You glared at him, half-hearted and flustered, but the way his eyes softened, the way his hands held you so gently, made your resolve crumble. “You,” you mumbled, barely a whisper, your cheeks burning as you met his gaze.

His smirk softened into a smile, warm and just a little smug. “Good girl,” he whispered, and then he kissed you—slow, deep, his tongue grazing yours in a way that made your whole body melt. When he pulled back, you were breathless, dizzy, and he was still smiling. “Now let’s see how much more I can make you say my name.”

His lips found your neck again, and you were lost, whining softly as he took his time, teasing and coaxing, determined to unravel you completely.

The air between you felt heavier now, charged with an intimacy that made your skin prickle. Chris’s kisses softened, lingering longer against your neck, then trailing back to your lips, where he kissed you deeply, unhurried, like he was savoring every second. His hands, warm and steady, roamed your sides, slipping under your shirt to trace the curve of your waist. Your breath hitched, body trembling under his touch, and that familiar whine slipped out again, high and needy.

“Shh, baby,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and soothing, though the teasing edge still lingered. “I’ve got you.” His words were a promise, and the way his eyes flicked over your face—checking, reassuring—made your chest tighten with something more than just want.

You nodded, lips parted, too overwhelmed to speak, but your hands clung to his shoulders, fingers digging into his shirt. He kissed you again, slower this time, then pulled back just enough to look at you, his glasses slightly fogged at the edges, his curls messy from your earlier tugging. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, and the sincerity in his voice made your cheeks burn hotter.

His hand slid lower, fingers grazing the waistband of your shorts, and your breath caught sharply. He paused, eyes searching yours, silently asking for permission. “Is this okay?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing your hip in slow, comforting circles.

You swallowed hard, heart racing, and managed a small nod, your voice failing you. But your body spoke for you—hips shifting slightly toward him, thighs trembling with anticipation. That was all he needed.

“Good,” he said, his voice a gentle hum as he kissed your jaw, then your throat, keeping you grounded with every soft press of his lips. His fingers dipped beneath the waistband, moving slowly, deliberately, as he tugged your shorts down just enough. The cool air against your skin made you shiver, but his warmth was there immediately, his hand resting lightly against your inner thigh.

“Chris…” you whined, your voice shaky, embarrassment flooding you as you felt how much you wanted him, how obvious it must be. Your thighs pressed together instinctively, but his gentle touch coaxed them apart, his fingers brushing your skin with a tenderness that made you melt.

“Relax for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, his lips grazing your ear now, his voice a soft anchor. “I’m gonna take care of you, I promise.” His hand moved higher, fingers ghosting over the fabric of your underwear, and you couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped. He didn’t tease this time, didn’t make you beg—just watched you carefully, making sure you were okay.

When his fingers finally slipped beneath the fabric, brushing against you, you whimpered, your hands flying to his shoulders, clinging to him. He moved slowly, exploring with a gentleness that made your head spin, his touch light but sure. “You’re so wet,” he murmured, almost to himself, his voice tinged with awe and something like pride. “All this for me?”

You could only whine in response, your hips twitching toward his hand, chasing the feeling. He chuckled softly, the sound warm and intimate, and pressed a kiss to your temple. “So sensitive,” he teased, but his tone was tender, not mocking. His fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, finding the rhythm that made your breath hitch, your body arching into him.

“Chris… please…” you whimpered, your voice breaking, too far gone to care how desperate you sounded. Your hands slid down his back, nails digging into his shirt as you tried to pull him closer, needing him in every way.

“I know, baby,” he said softly, his forehead resting against yours now, his breath warm on your lips. “Just getting you ready for me, okay? Wanna make sure you feel good.” His fingers slipped lower, one pressing gently at your entrance, and you tensed for a moment, the reality of what was coming sinking in—this was your first time, with him, like this.

He noticed immediately, pausing, his hand stilling. “Hey,” he whispered, kissing the bridge of your nose, then your lips, soft and reassuring. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. You tell me what you want, alright?”

You shook your head, cheeks flushed, and tightened your grip on him. “I want you,” you mumbled, the words barely audible but firm, despite the nervous flutter in your chest. “I’m ready. Just… go slow?”

His smile was so gentle it made your heart ache. “Slow as you need,” he promised, kissing you again, deep and grounding. His fingers moved again, one slipping inside you with such care that you barely felt the stretch, just a warm fullness that made you gasp. He watched your face, checking for any sign of discomfort, but all you could do was whimper softly, your hips moving instinctively toward him.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice low and encouraging, his lips brushing your jaw. “You’re doing so good, love.” He added a second finger after a moment, slow and steady, curling them just right to make your breath catch, your body trembling under the new sensation. His thumb found your clit, circling gently, and the combined feeling had you whining his name, your thighs shaking.

“Chris…” you gasped, your hands clutching him tighter, your body so responsive it almost scared you. The tension was building, coiling tight in your core, and he knew it—he could feel it in the way you tightened around his fingers, the way your breaths came faster, more ragged.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, kissing every inch of skin he could reach. “Gonna feel so good when it’s me inside you, baby. Just a little more, okay?”

You nodded, too overwhelmed to speak, your body arching into his hand as he worked you closer, his fingers moving with a steady rhythm that made your head spin. The stretch was unfamiliar but not painful, his touch so careful it felt like he was memorizing you, learning exactly what you needed. And through it all, his kisses never stopped—soft, warm, grounding you even as you felt yourself unraveling.

When your breaths turned to soft moans, your hips bucking against his hand, he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection. “Think you’re ready for me now?”

You could only whine in response, nodding shakily, your hands pulling him closer, needing him more than you could ever say. And Chris, with that same gentle smile, kissed you deeply, ready to take the next step with you, slow and perfect and all for you.

Chris’s lips found yours again, the kiss slow and deep, grounding you in the moment as his hands moved with the same careful tenderness. Your body was humming, still trembling from the way his fingers had worked you, leaving you soft and pliant beneath him. The air felt thick with anticipation, your heart pounding as he pulled back to look at you, his eyes warm and searching, his glasses slightly crooked but endearing in the dim light.

“You’re sure?” he whispered, his voice low, almost reverent, as his thumb brushed your cheek. His other hand rested on your hip, steady and reassuring, like he was anchoring you to him.

You nodded, your breath shaky but certain. “Yes,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, your hands sliding up his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. “I want you, Chris. Please.”

His smile was soft, almost shy, but the way his eyes darkened made your stomach flutter. “Okay, love,” he said, kissing your forehead, then the tip of your nose, before pressing his lips to yours again. “We’ll go slow. Just tell me if you need me to stop, alright?”

You nodded again, too overwhelmed to say more, and he shifted, moving to sit up slightly as he tugged his shirt over his head. The sight of him—bare-chested, curls messy, glasses still slightly askew—made your breath catch. He was beautiful, and the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered, made your heart ache.

He leaned down, kissing your neck softly, then your collarbone, his hands slipping under your shirt to lift it gently over your head. The cool air against your skin made you shiver, but his warmth was there immediately, his lips trailing down your chest, kissing every inch with a reverence that made you feel cherished. “So perfect,” he murmured against your skin, his voice barely audible but heavy with affection.

Your hands found his shoulders, clinging to him as he moved lower, kissing the dip between your ribs, then the soft curve of your stomach. Each touch was deliberate, unhurried, like he was memorizing you, and it made your body hum with a need you couldn’t articulate. “Chris…” you whined softly, your voice trembling, your hips shifting instinctively toward him.

He chuckled, the sound warm and low, and kissed his way back up to your lips. “I know, baby,” he whispered, his hands sliding to your shorts, tugging them down with the same slow care. “I’ve got you.”

When you were both bare, the intimacy of it hit you—his skin against yours, warm and solid, his breath mingling with yours. He paused, hovering over you, his forearms braced on either side of your head, his eyes locked on yours. “You’re so beautiful,” he said again, and the way he said it, like a confession, made your chest tighten.

He kissed you deeply, his hand sliding between you to guide himself, and you tensed for a moment, the reality of it sinking in. He felt it, his lips brushing your jaw as he whispered, “Relax, sweetheart. I’ll go slow. Promise.”

You nodded, your hands gripping his shoulders, and he pressed forward, so gently it was barely noticeable at first. The stretch was new, unfamiliar, and you gasped softly, your fingers digging into his skin. He stilled immediately, his lips finding your ear, murmuring, “You okay? Need me to stop?”

“No,” you breathed, shaking your head, your voice shaky but certain. “Just… keep going. Slowly.”

He did, moving with a patience that made your heart swell, his eyes never leaving your face, watching for any sign of discomfort. The stretch turned into a warm fullness, and though it was intense, it wasn’t painful—not with the way he held you, kissed you, whispered your name like it was something sacred. “You’re doing so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his lips brushing your temple. “Feel so perfect, baby.”

You whimpered softly, your hips shifting to adjust, and he took that as his cue to move, just a little, a slow, shallow thrust that made you gasp again. His hands roamed your body, one cupping your face, the other resting on your hip, guiding you gently. “That’s it,” he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Just like that.”

The rhythm he set was slow, deliberate, each movement careful but deep enough to make your breath hitch, your body arching into him. Your whines were soft, needy, and he drank them in, kissing your neck, your jaw, your lips, like he couldn’t get enough of you. “Chris…” you mumbled, your voice breaking, your hands sliding down his back, nails grazing his skin.

“Love hearing you say my name like that,” he teased softly, his voice warm against your ear, but there was no mockery in it—just affection, adoration. He moved a little deeper, a little slower, and the sensation built, coiling tight in your core, making your thighs tremble.

Your breaths came faster, mingling with his, and he shifted, angling himself just right to brush against a spot that made you moan, high and desperate. He paused, then did it again, his lips curling into a soft smile as he watched your reaction. “There it is,” he murmured, kissing your cheek. “Gonna take care of you, love. Always.”

The pace stayed slow, each thrust measured, dragging out the pleasure until you were a trembling mess beneath him, your whines turning to soft moans, your body clinging to his. He was relentless in his gentleness, never rushing, letting the sensation build until it was almost too much. “Chris… please…” you whimpered, not even sure what you were begging for, just needing more of him, all of him.

“I know, baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours, his hand slipping between you to circle your clit gently, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. The added touch made you gasp, your hips bucking against him, and he groaned softly, his forehead resting against yours. “So close, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice thick with want. “Let go for me, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

His words, his touch, the way he moved—it was all too much, and the tension snapped, your body shuddering as you came, your moan soft but raw, your hands clutching him like he was your lifeline. He kissed you through it, slow and deep, his thrusts never faltering, drawing out every wave of pleasure until you were boneless beneath him.

He followed soon after, his breath hitching, a low groan escaping as he buried his face in your neck, his movements slowing until he stilled. For a moment, you just lay there, tangled together, breathing heavily, his warmth enveloping you. He kissed your shoulder, then your cheek, his glasses nudging your skin as he pulled back to look at you.

“You okay, love?” he whispered, his voice low and warm, his thumb tracing soft circles on your cheek.

You nodded, your lips parting in a shy smile, still too overwhelmed to find words. “Mhm,” you managed, your voice barely audible, your hands resting loosely on his shoulders, fingers grazing his skin.

He smiled, soft and adoring, and kissed the tip of your nose before carefully pulling away. “Stay right there,” he murmured, his tone gentle but with that familiar teasing lilt that made your cheeks flush. You watched as he slipped out of bed, moving quietly to the bathroom, his silhouette framed by the dim light. Your body felt heavy, sated, and you curled slightly into the sheets, the lingering warmth of him still on your skin.

He returned moments later, a warm, damp washcloth in his hand, his expression so tender it made your chest ache. He knelt beside you, his touch careful and deliberate as he gently cleaned you up, his movements slow, almost reverent. The warmth of the cloth soothed your sensitive skin, and you sighed softly, your eyes fluttering closed at the intimacy of it. He was so attentive, so careful, like he was pouring all his affection into every gentle swipe.

“Feel okay?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes flicking to yours to check for any discomfort.

You nodded, a small hum escaping your lips, your body relaxing under his touch. “Feels nice,” you mumbled, your voice still tinged with that whiny edge that made him chuckle softly.

“Good,” he said, his lips curving into a smile as he finished, setting the cloth aside. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, then your hip, before crawling back into bed beside you. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, guiding you to rest against his chest, your head tucked under his chin. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

He shifted slightly, pulling the blanket over both of you, cocooning you in warmth. His lips brushed your hair, and he whispered, “I love you so much.” The words were soft but heavy, like they carried every piece of his heart, and they made your breath catch. “You mean everything to me, you know that?”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your eyes meeting his, and the sincerity in his gaze—behind those slightly crooked glasses—made your heart swell. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice small but sure, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin.

He smiled, that gentle, boyish grin that always made you melt, and kissed your forehead, then your temple, his lips lingering there. “I’m so lucky,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “To have you, to get to love you like this.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you buried your face in his chest, suddenly shy under the weight of his words. He chuckled softly, his arms tightening around you, holding you closer, like he never wanted to let go. “My perfect girl,” he whispered, his lips brushing your hair again, and you felt his breath even out, his body relaxing as he settled into the moment with you.

You stayed like that, tangled in each other, the world outside fading away. His fingers kept tracing those soft patterns on your skin, his warmth enveloping you, and as you drifted toward sleep, you felt utterly safe, utterly loved, wrapped in his arms and the quiet certainty of his words.

—

A/N- i think this is the cutest thing i’ve ever written. The reason i said “real” is because they had sex when she was drunk and she remembers but she doesn’t really remember the feeling so this is the REAL time

@pip4444chris req :3 i love u my sweet angel. this is a part of a series, but can be read on its own! CONTENTS: oral (m receiving).

chris sat hunched at the little desk in the corner of his bedroom, his legs spread, one knee bouncing, phone tilted sideways in his palm as he scrolled with his thumb. the glow from the screen hit the tired slope of his face, eyes bloodshot and half-lidded like he hadn’t really blinked in a while. but every once in a while, he’d grunt under his breath, muttering something about how “there’s no fuckin’ reason glitter tattoos should be two hundred goddamn dollars.”

star was stretched across his bed behind him, legs swinging off the edge, wet hair clinging to her cheek and the back of her neck from the shower she’d just taken. she had one hand resting on her stomach, the other holding her phone above her face, pretending to scroll even though she kept glancing at him.

he looked like shit, but not in the usual messy-hair and crinkled shirt kind of way. his jaw was tight, posture stiff and curled in like the whole world was pressing into his spine.

“you should take a break,” she said gently, letting her phone fall onto her stomach.

“i can’t,” he mumbled. “if i don’t figure this out soon, there won’t be anything left. or the stuff that is left’ll be like… bootleg minnie mouse who gives out balloon swords and tells the kids she’s on break when they ask for a picture with a cigarette in her mouth”

“you think lila would notice if there wasn’t a face painter?”

chris turned in his chair just enough to look at her. “you know she’d notice. she’d smile through it and say thank you, and then cry about it when she thinks nobody’s looking. she’s been talkin’ about this party for months.”

star sat up slightly, her brows pulling. “you’ve already done so much. she’s gonna have the best party ever and be so happy”

he didn’t respond, just sighed and let his head fall back with a quiet thud against the wall.

what he didn’t say—but what star already knew—was that he wasn’t just trying to plan the perfect birthday party. he was trying to time it just right so evelyn could be there too. the doctors had given him some maybe yes, maybe no bullshit about her being able to come home next week, depending on how her counts looked.

he was trying to make sure lila got her magic day, and their mom got to be there for it. trying to keep it all together when nothing ever really felt steady.

“c’mere,” star said softly.

chris didn’t move at first. just sat there with his hand over his mouth, eyes unfocused like he was drifting somewhere far. but after a beat, he rolled the chair back and dropped down onto the edge of the bed with a tired grunt.

“can’t believe i’m about to say this,” he mumbled, digging into his pocket for the joint he’d rolled earlier, “but i wish she’d asked for a damn piñata or somethin’ instead.”

star smiled faintly. “she’s six, baby. she thinks face painters are celebrities, not beating candy out of cardboard animal.”

he chuckled under his breath and  lit the joint with one hand before he took a slow drag, his eyes closing. the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease much, but the furrow between his brows smoothed out just a little.

she watched him for a second, the way his thumb rubbed along his knee, the way he blew the smoke out toward the ceiling. she scooted closer, slowly sliding off the bed until she was kneeling on the floor between his legs, her hands resting on his thighs.

his brows knit again. “what’re you doin’?”

“you’re stressed,” she said simply, tilting her head up to look at him. “let me help.” her head already dipping as she palmed him through his sweats. “you’ve been like… two seconds away from losing it all day.”

chris opened his mouth to argue, but then she slid her hand under the waistband, wrapped her fingers around his cock, and he just exhaled . . . hard.

“star.”

“mm?” she blinked up at him, all wide-eyed and innocent like her hand wasn’t stroking slow and tight, dragging his sweats down just enough. “keep talking. what else needs to get done?”

his eyes fluttered. “i—fuck. i still gotta call that one bakery back. the one with the… the unicorn cupcakes. and the… the balloons.”

she let her tongue drag across the tip of him, teasing, soft.

“keep goin’, ” she whispered, thumb circling lazily under his head. “you were sayin’?”

chris shuddered. “i don’t—fuck, i can’t even think with your mouth on me.”

“haven’t used my mouth yet.” she kissed the side of his cock, slow and hot. “but keep talking and maybe i’ll be nice.”

he shot her a glare, but it melted the second she licked a long stripe from base to tip.

“you’re evil,” he muttered.

“uh-huh.” her lips wrapped around his head and he choked on a groan.

his hand slid into her damp hair, not guiding—just holding like if he didn’t, he’d float straight through the ceiling.

“star,” he breathed, hips already trying to rock into her mouth, “baby, slow down—fuck.”

she pulled off with a lewd pop, lips shiny, eyes locked on his.

“what’s next on the list?” she asked, hand still working him while her tongue flicked against the underside.

he tried. really tried. opened his mouth like he had a plan, but she took him back in before he could get a single syllable out and he nearly folded.

“that’s what i thought,” she mumbled around him.

his whole body twitched, thighs tense, chest rising and falling like he’d just run laps.

“all you want is to be a good big brother huh?” she asked sweetly, kissing his tip while her hand jerked him firm and slow. “take care of everything and everyone?”

he nodded fast, eyes dazed. “yeah. yeah, that’s all I want.”

“then let me take care of you for a second.”

she swallowed him deeper this time, until her nose nudged his pelvis, and he groaned so loud he had to bite his own lip to minimize the sound.

“please baby.”

“you like when i suck your cock while you talk about unicorn cupcakes?” she teased, eyes flicking up to meet his.

“don’t say that out loud again,” he laughed breathlessly.

“why not?” she pulled off again, dragging her tongue along his slit. “you’re hard as a rock talkin’ about face paint and glitter.”

he gritted his teeth. “i’m hard because your mouth’s perfect.”

“then look at me,” she whispered.

and he did, immediately locked eyes with her while she sucked him back down, slow and messy, letting spit dribble down her chin, her lips stretching wide around him. her hand pumped whatever she couldn’t fit, and the sound of it all echoing off the walls made his stomach tighten.

“shit,” he groaned, low and raw. “you love this, huh? bein’ on your knees for me?”

she hummed in response, sending a vibration up his spine.

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he rasped. “jesus, star… look at those pretty eyes.”

she blinked up at him again, cheeks hollowed, tongue working him over like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

he was close and she knew it. could feel the way his thighs started to shake, the way his grip in her hair tightened just a little.

“m’gonna cum,” he warned. “baby, gonna cum—don’t stop.”

which she didn’t, if anything she took him deeper, let her tongue roll and her hand twist just right.

he let out a low, wrecked groan, hips stuttering as he spilled into her mouth, his breath catching in his throat.

she took it all, didn’t flinch. just swallowed, then licked him clean like she’d been starving for it.

when she finally sat up, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, chris was staring at her like he didn’t even remember what day it was.

“feelin’ better?” she, a small smile forming on her face at his fucked out expression and he nodded slowly.

“so, you wanna try that list again?” she teased.

Requested by @sturniolo-szn2

rapper! matt x bandana! matt

rapper! matt x bandana! matt

someone needs to actually do something before i fucking EXPLODE

overseas, under you [part two sneak peak]

author's note: i feel bad that i’m still gatekeeping… i just want it to be perfect okay please don’t hate me! i’m a full time uni student and bartender, free time is but a figment of my imagination. but here’s an itty bitty snippet for ya!

masterlist | taglist | part one

© starrysturnz. all rights reserved.

the girl was yanked from her thoughts at the feeling of fingertips kissing her cheeks and settling behind her jaw, calloused hands caressing her face as if she were made of porcelain. his thumbs traced over her cheekbones once, twice, hooded eyes admiring her own before pulling her up ever-so-slightly to meet him as he leaned down.

his mouth sponged against her nose, her lips, and finally her forehead, against which he whispered, “still okay?” she nodded, and he rubbed his thumbs along her skin again, pulling back. “gotta hear you say it, baby.”

y/n told him she was just fine, great, even, and chris didn’t think he’d ever loved her more than in this exact moment. at first, he scolded himself at the thought— of course he’d feel that way right when she was about to give him head. typical man.

but then y/n gasped, startling him for a fraction of a second as she reached a hand up toward his face.

“hold still, honey… you have an eyelash.”

before closing his eyes at the proximity, chris was able to catch the look of concentration in the deep set of her brow, the tip of her tongue peeking out the corner of her mouth as she attempted to pick the fallen lash up, and his heart just sort of… stopped.

she was so genuine, effortlessly beautiful in every aspect. her warmth rivaled that of the sun, her eyes shone brighter than the north star, and chris just knew— he knew his affection for her was far deeper than any sexual attraction. he’d turn celibate in a heartbeat if she asked.

“make a wish.”

chris knew what he wanted.

y/n giggled at the tickling sensation of his breath blowing the lash away, looking up at him with an expression that had him questioning if he was dreaming. her hands trailed up his thighs, sending a shiver through him. “what’d you wish for?”

“won’t come true if i tell you.”

“so lame,” she pouted, dipping her fingers into the waistband of his boxer-briefs. “can i?”

hey guys! quick little post script here. i just want to say thank you to those who have been patient about part two. i know i've been holding out, but i want to be sure i'm putting out the best writing that i can. remember that fanfiction is predominantly for the writers, not the readers! they are sharing their fantasies with you (for free), and sometimes that comes at the cost of taking some extra time.

that said, i can’t wait to share this with you! coming soon! kisses <3

tagging some moots: @darksturnz @ellieluvssturniolos @oopsiedaisydeer @solarsturniolo @strnilolover