luv$

✧ bsf chris!, friends to lovers, dom!chris, teasing, clit stimulation, unprotected sex

✧ summary: you're sexually frustrated after months without sex and during a seemingly innocent hangout with chris, tensions and casual touches escalate until he offers to "help you out," finally satisfying your needs.

✧ word count: 2.3k

✧ authors note: i need to go to horny jail bc why have i been writing nonstop. also sue me im a sucker for friends to lovers. (also also if u saw this posted earlier no u didnt that was an accident.)

it's been three months. three long months since your last hookup, and your body was making you pay for it. you felt exposed, every casual touch from a stranger felt like a jolt. it was hell.

so when chris texted you, "come over? we can chill. i'm tired," you almost cried with relief. you needed the comfort, the platonic intimacy, the distraction from the constant arousal that had become your every day.

he answers the door in gray sweatpants and a worn out band tee, looking soft and domestic and completely harmless.

you hand him the takeout you brought, and he grins, pulling you into a quick, one armed hug.

"missed you," he says, his voice warm in your ear. it's a normal thing to say, but it sends a shiver down your spine.

you settle on the couch, a decent amount of space between you. he puts on some dumb action movie you've both seen a dozen times and you dig into the food.

for a while, it's fine. it's normal. you're laughing, yelling at the screen, arguing about which character has the most ridiculous death scene.

but then he leans forward to grab the remote, and his arm brushes against your breast. it's nothing. a quick touch. but your entire body reacts. you feel your nipples stiffen instantly, a familiar heat pooling in your gut. you shift, pressing your thighs together under the blanket you'd pulled over your lap.

he flops back against the cushions, slinging his arm up along the back of the sofa behind you. "god, i'm exhausted," he sighs, letting his head fall back.

you can see the pulse ticking in his neck and the way his shirt's pulled tight across his chest. he's just laid out for you like that, all long and tall and unfairly hot.

"long week?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

"you have no idea." his eyes are closed. he looks vulnerable. "just… wanna relax."

you nod, then hesitate. "scoot down a bit."

he cracks an eye open. "why?"

"just… come here." you pat the space between your legs. "you look like you're about to fall over."

he considers it for a second, then shrugs, shifting so he's lying with his cheek against your chest, you wrap your arms around his back, pulling the blanket up over both of you.

it's better. it's worse. the solid weight of him against you is comforting, but it's also igniting every frustrated cell in your body. you can feel the warmth of his skin through his t-shirt, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

you can smell his shampoo, something clean and woodsy. your fingers start to twitch against his back, itching to tangle in his hair.

this is chris. your chris. your best friend. get a fucking grip.

you try to focus on the movie. you really do. but then he shifts, settling in deeper, and he presses right against your core. a tiny, involuntary gasp escapes your lips. you freeze, hoping he didn't hear.

he didn't seem to. but a few minutes later, he does it again, a subtle roll of his hips as he gets comfortable. it's innocent. it means nothing. but to your desperate body, it does.

you can feel yourself getting wet, a slick warmth spreading between your thighs. you press them together harder, a useless attempt to calm down the ache.

"you okay?" he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your chest. "you're all tense."

"fine," you squeak. "just… cold."

he hums, a low, skeptical sound.

his hand comes up to cover yours where it's resting on his side.

"your hands are freezing," he says, rubbing his thumb over your fingers.

"told you," you manage, your voice tight.

he chuckles, a soft, breathy sound that vibrates right through you. he brings your intertwined hands up to his mouth, blowing warm air onto your fingers.

it's an act of simple kindness, but his lips are so close to your skin, and all you can think about is them somewhere else.

"better?" he asks, his eyes still closed.

"mhm," you lie. you're burning up.

the movie ends, and the menu screen starts looping, the annoying theme music filling the silence.

neither of you moves to turn it off. the air in the room feels thick, heavy.

then, he shifts again. it's not subtle this time. it's a deliberate, slow roll of his hips against you. and you feel it. the hard, thick line of his cock pressing firmly against you.

your entire body goes rigid. your breath catches in your throat. he's hard. he's hard, and he's pressed against you, and he knows.

"chris?" your voice is barely a whisper.

he doesn't answer. he just does it again, a slower, more deliberate grind. a low groan rumbles in his chest, a sound you feel more than hear.

"you're squirming," he says, his voice thick and husky. "have been all night."

you can't deny it.

"i…"

"shhh," he murmurs, finally turning his head to look at you. his eyes are fucked out already, blown wide and black with it, lashes low and heavy like he's halfway to wrecked just from looking at you. "just… feel it."

his hair's all fucked up from the couch, lips parted and pink, and he looks wrecked and hungry and hard, the line of his jaw tight, and you can see his chest rising and falling like he's barely holding himself back.

he rolls his hips again, a perfect, filthy pressure against your clit. a whimper tears from your throat. it's embarrassing, how responsive you are, how little it takes.

"yeah," he breathes, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. "that's what i thought."

he lets go of your hand, bringing his up to cup your jaw. his thumb strokes your cheek, his touch gentle. "how long has it been?"

you know what he's asking. your face flames with shame. "too long."

"poor thing," he coos, and it should be condescending, but it just sounds hot. "all wound up with no one to help you."

his knee slides between your legs, pressing right up against your soaked leggings. you gasp, your hips jolting forward involuntarily.

"so eager," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "tell me what you need. let me help you out, baby..."

you shake your head, burying your face in his neck. you can't say it. admitting it out loud would make it real, would cross the boundary you've been clinging to.

he chuckles, a low, dark sound. "no? okay. i'll guess."

his hand slides down your side, over your hip, and comes to rest on your ass, squeezing the flesh through your leggings. you moan, a broken, needy sound.

"need someone to touch you?" he whispers, his other hand coming up to tangle in your hair, tugging your head towards him gently. "need someone to take care of this tight little pussy?"

you can only nod, your eyes squeezed shut.

"look at me," he commands. you force your eyes open. his gaze is intense, boring into you. "i've been right here this whole time. all you had to do was ask."

he leans in, and for a heart stopping second, you think he's going to kiss you.

but he stops, his lips hovering a breath away from yours.

"beg for it," he whispers. "tell me how much you need it."

something inside you snaps. the frustration, the desperation, the weeks of pent up need.

"please," you choke out, the word ragged. "chris, please. i need it. i need you."

that's all he was waiting for. his mouth is on yours, hungry and demanding.

it's a kiss of starvation, his tongue is in your mouth, claiming you, and you kiss him back with equal desperation, your hands gripping his hair, pulling him closer.

his hand slides from your ass around to the front, pushing between your legs. he groans into your mouth when he feels the wetness seeping through your leggings.

"fuck," he pants, breaking the kiss. "you're soaked. god, you really needed this, didn't you?"

he doesn't wait for an answer, just pushes your leggings down, his fingers finding your slick, swollen folds. you cry out, your hips bucking against his hand as he circles your clit.

"so sensitive," he murmurs, watching your face as he slides a finger inside you. "gonna come just from this? just from my fingers?"

you can't form words, just babble his name as he adds a second finger, curling them just right.

his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing in tight, circles as his fingers pump inside you.

you're grinding down on his hand, shameless in your desperation, chasing the release that's been building for months.

"look at you," he breathes, his voice thick with awe and satisfaction. "so fucking beautiful."

you can feel the orgasm building, your thighs starting to shake. "chris…i'm gonna…"

"no," he says, pulling his hand away completely.

the loss is so sudden, you cry out a wounded, frustrated sound. your eyes fly open, glaring at him. "what the fuck?"

he just smirks, a slow curve of his lips. he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, his eyes locked on yours as he licks them clean (which was hotter than you wanted to admit). "not yet. you don't get to come that easy."

he shifts, kneeling between your legs, taking off his shirt in one smooth motion.

mouth goes dry at the sight of his chest, the lean muscle dusted with hair that trails down into his sweatpants. he hooks his thumbs into the waistband, pausing.

"you want this?" he asks, palming his hard cock through the fabric. it looks thick, heavy, and your whimper in response.

you nod, eyes wide, transfixed by the movement of his hand.

"use your words," he commands, his voice dropping to that low and rumbly tone. "tell me what you want."

you swallow past the lump in your throat. "i want you to fuck me."

"how?" he presses, dragging his sweatpants down just enough to free himself. your breath hitches. he's bigger than you expected, thick and flushed, curving up towards his stomach. he wraps a hand around it, giving it a slow, lazy stroke. "tell me how you want me to fuck you."

"hard," you whisper, then say it louder, with more conviction. "i want you to fuck me hard."

his eyes flash with desire. "that's my girl."

he leans over you, bracing his hands on either side of your head. he doesn't enter you, just lets the head of his cock drag through your wet folds, bumping against your clit. you whimper, lifting your hips, trying to take him in, but he pulls back, teasing you.

"so impatient," he tuts, but he's smiling. "been thinking about this, haven't you? lying in your bed at night, touching yourself, wanting to be fucked like this?"

"yes," you admit, the word a breathy confession. "god, yes."

he lines himself up then, pressing just the tip inside. you gasp at the stretch. he pauses there, torturing you.

"who gets to make you feel like this?" he asks, his voice a low growl.

"you," you moan, trying to push your hips up and take more of him.

"that's right."

with one smooth, powerful thrust, he buries himself in you. you cry out, your back arching off the couch. it's a painfully good stretch, the feeling of being completely full. he stills for a moment, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed against yours.

"fuck," he groans, his voice broken. "so tight. feels like you were made for me."

then he starts to move. it's exactly what you asked for. hard, deep strokes that make you gasp. the couch is creaking with every snap of his hips.

his hands are gripping your thighs, holding you open as he pounds into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

"this what you needed?" he grunts, his rhythm brutal. "to be fucked like a little slut? is that why you've been so tense?"

you can only moan in response, your hands clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. the pleasure is overwhelming.

"chris… please," you beg.

"come on," he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic. "come for me."

he shifts his angle, hitting that spot deep inside you that makes your vision go white.

"that's it, that's it," he groans, fucking you until you're a whimpering, oversensitive mess.

he pulls out suddenly, and you whine at the loss. he flips you over with surprising strength, maneuvering you onto your hands and knees. he grabs your hips, pulling your ass up in the air, and slides back into you from behind.

the new angle is devastating. he's hitting even deeper now, letting out little grunts with every thrust. one of his hands leaves your hip to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back.

"look at me," he commands, his voice rough. you twist, looking back at him over your shoulder. his face is flushed, his eyes dark. "who's fucking you this good?"

"you are," you gasp, his grip on your hair tightening just enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain down your spine. "you're fucking me so good."

"damn right i am," he grunts, his rhythm faltering. "gonna fill this little pussy up. you want that? want me to come inside you?"

"yes," you sob, pushing back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. "please, chris. come in me."

with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself deep and stills. you feel him pulse inside you, a warm flood filling you up as he groans your name, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

he collapses against your back, his weight pinning you to the couch cushions, both of you breathing heavily in the sudden silence. for a long moment, neither of you move.

finally, he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder.

video: can a hamster(humpster35 mentioned) pick us up?

~The way his eyes gloss over as he’s in his trance of thinking about whatever he’s thinking about>

~Imagine sucking his dick and he pulls this

~I feel like Chris would be so so easy to turn on—plus cum.

~his lips are so pink, juicy and kissable😩

~I can’t get over this clip like everrrr. Mf was so thinking about something freaky😁

In which: y/n & chris sturniolo are friends with benefits but things get complicated.

MDNI! smut. angst.

I sat in the passenger seat of Chris’s car looking out the window as we drove to his place. Soft music played in the background as I gazed upon the city lights. This had become a routine of some sort. 

Chris and I didn’t have the closest bond despite us having sex a couple times a week. I remember us meeting at some chaotic party like it was yesterday. We both were sober. Partying was foreign to me. Whereas Chris was the opposite, partying was like a daily ritual for him. 

Surprisingly though, he doesn’t drink and he barely smokes. Always saying the words “sell it, don’t smoke it”. That night I was trying to get out of my comfort zone. I had tagged along with some friends, even dressed up and did my makeup.

Chris and I ended up running into each other on my way outside the house. I was planning to just step outside and get some fresh air when I bumped into somebody. That somebody was Chris. 

“Watch where you're going” Chris said, irritation creeping in his voice. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to” I responded, my cheeks tinting pink from embarrassment. He looked me up and down, scanning my face as if he was trying to read me. 

“Why do you look like you're about to cry?” he asked. I shrugged my shoulders and looked away from him. I was overwhelmed, I really just needed fresh air. He stared at me a little longer before saying “this isn’t your type of environment, is it?”. 

A few seconds later Chris was grabbing onto my hand and leading me through the crowd of people towards the outside. 

“If you can’t handle a party then why are you at one?” he asked. “Just trying something new” I responded. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up as he stood next to me. He blew smoke out of his mouth, staring off into the distance as if he was thinking deeply. 

“What’s your name?” he asked. “Y/n, what about yours?”. He took one more hit of the cigarette before tossing it somewhere on the ground. “Chris” he said. We ended up exchanging phone numbers, not knowing where it would lead to. 

That interaction at the party was a couple months ago.

Chris wasn’t the most sweet or kindest person to exist. He was rough around the edges and emotionally unavailable. He made it clear from the start that there were no strings attached. No feelings. No vulnerability. 

We didn’t hangout outside of having sex. We didn’t talk to each other about our personal lives too much. And we sure as hell were nowhere near being in a relationship. Just sex. Really good sex. 

Sex that was supposed to be meaningless, purely out of lust. Sex that would replay in my head for hours. Rough sex fueled by a deep need to escape everything else besides each other.  Sex that was passionate and soul shattering at the same time. 

He wasn’t big on aftercare. Occasionally he would throw a towel towards me, or maybe if he was feeling a little crazy he would cuddle me for awhile before making some type of excuse on why he had to leave. And that’s how it’s always been. 

Tonight wasn’t any different. He picked me up, the usual small talk on the way to his house. Lately I had been too much in my head about Chris and I. So maybe I was a little extra quiet but I didn’t expect him to notice. 

Walking into his house I had to remind myself of why I was here. This didn’t mean anything. None of it. That’s what we agreed to. That’s why this was supposed to be easy and fun. 

We walked into his room and I sat on his bed. Casual. Nothing out of the ordinary. Chris sat at his desk where all sorts of paraphernalia laid out. He grabbed his scale and emptied a bag of weed across his desk. I watched as he proceeded to scale out the green buds and place them in baggies. 

“So what’s up” Chris said with his back facing me as he continued to sort out the drugs in front of him. “Uhh- nothing much. Just been busy with work, you know, the usual stuff” I responded. Chris nodded his head. 

“What’s up with you though? Anything new?” I asked. “Not really” he said, shrugging his shoulders. He finally bagged up the last of his weed, turning around to face me now. 

“Why are you so quiet tonight?” he asked. If I told him the truth he would tell me to leave so I settled for “not trying to be”. He scanned my face as if he was trying to detect lies and energy. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, curious about my behavior. I tried to think quickly, find some basic lie and roll with it. But he saw the hesitation on my face. “Don’t lie” he said. I let out an exhale. 

“Just been in my head alot” I said, voice quiet. He stared at me like he was trying to put together the pieces, like he was trying to somehow read my mind. “About what?” he asked. “You're asking a lot of questions” I responded quickly. He chuckled, "that's not an answer”. 

I rolled my eyes and let out another deep exhale. “About us” I confessed. His eyebrows furrowed together, a look of confusion plastered on his face. After a moment of silence he finally said “what about us?”.

I shrugged my shoulders and looked away from him. “Y/n” he said. “Hmm” I hummed. “What about us?” he repeated. I kept my eyes towards the ground, trying to figure out a way of articulating my feelings without scaring him off.

“I don’t know” I said, my mind running blank. He tilted his head sideways as he observed my energy. Just as he was about to speak his phone started to ring. He grabbed his phone off the desk, pressing decline on the call.

He snapped his fingers at me to get my attention. He held his phone out and I watched as he turned it completely off. “Why did you do that?” I asked. He set his phone back on the desk before getting up and sitting next to me on the bed. 

“I just want you to know I'm here with you, fully present. No distractions” he said. His words sent shivers down my spine. “Now tell me what’s got you so down and depressed” he said before placing his hand on my thigh.

“I’m not down or depressed” I retorted. “Don’t be difficult. Tell me” he responded. He grabbed onto my body, moving our positions into laying down on his bed. 

“I think about cutting you off alot” I said. He rubbed his hand over my belly while laying next to me. “Why?” he asked, not harshly, not mad, just curious. “I don’t know, just think it might be for the best” I said. 

“Is it something I did?” he asked as he continued to let his hand roam softly over my body. I shook my head no. “No- no it’s not like that. I just think i’m starting to like you too much” I admitted. 

“And I know this is supposed to be no strings attached” I said. His hand played with the waistband of my sweatpants. “You like me?” he asked. I nodded my head and prayed that he wasn’t about to kick me out.

His body tensed a little. Silence.

His hand found it’s way underneath my shirt, his hand continued to roam over my bare skin. 

“So do you think we should end things now? You know, since I think I like you a little more than I should” I asked. His hand slid up to my chest, cupping my breast softly “you wanna know what I think?” he asked. I nodded my head. “I think you should kiss me” he said.

My eyes met his, my body already heating up. He leaned in, pressing his lips to mine. I pulled back and met his eyes. He noticed the hesitation written all over my face. “What’s wrong?” he asked. I didn’t respond, unable to use my words.

“Why you stressing so much ma?” he exhaled. “I can’t help it” I responded. He looked at me with something undecipherable in his eyes. His gaze was unlike any other. Cold but soft at the same time. Sweet but poisonous. 

“Give it to me” he said. Confusion flooded my brain. “Give you what?” I asked. His hand returned to my breast, squeezing softly on the balls of flesh. “Your stress” he said. I chuckled at his words. 

“I can’t just give you my stress” I said. Even though I would if I could. “Then let me take it from you” he said. His eyes were steady and focused on mine. “Let me make you feel good” he said, his voice soft and deadly. 

His hand slid back down to the waistband of my sweatpants. “Do you want that?” he asked. After a moment of silence all I could respond with was “yes, please”. 

He started by taking my sweatpants off. I lifted up my hips to make it easier for him to slide my panties off. I laid on the bed, naked and exposed. I was soaking already, the anticipation for his touch was actively clawing at me.

He started to undress himself as my legs squeezed together, desperate for some sort of relief. Once he was fully naked he crawled his way onto the bed, positioning himself over me. He grabbed onto my legs and spread them apart.

He let his hand move between my legs, his fingers sliding between my slick folds. I whimpered from the simple touch, so desperate, so willing. He squeezed my pussy lips together before spanking my pussy lightly. I let out a whine. 

“Chris” I pleaded. He chuckled like he was amused. “You need me ma?” he asked as if he already knew the answer. I nodded my head. “I need you too” he said before lining his dick up with my entrance. 

Our eyes locked, focused and intentional. We watched each other's eyes dilate as he slid into my soaking pussy slowly. My jaw went slack as my walls enveloped his cock. He smiled a big smile, loving how I was already immersed in a state of bliss.

He slowly started to penetrate my cunt, our eyes still locked. My hands gripped onto his biceps as I struggled to keep myself in tact. His chain dangled in my face as I let out breathless moans. 

“You can’t cut me off ma” he said, his strokes getting deeper. I was trying so hard to focus on his words but the sounds of our juices mixing together distracted me. “You hear me?” he asked. I wasn’t able to respond before he started to pick up his pace, my moans getting louder.

“Don’t cut me off” he said, my grip on his biceps growing tighter. I wanted to respond, I really did. But the only thing coming from my mouth was a plethora of raw moans. His veiny cock slid and out so easily, so thick and hard.

“You're so stressed about attachment, so worried I won’t feel the same way” he said, his strokes becoming slower. I was struggling to hold myself together, losing control. “Am I right?” he asked, my nails sinking into his skin. I nodded my head, unable to speak.

“You think that I view you as disposable. Like your just a quick fuck” he said as he pushed deeper inside me. “You're not mama. I think about you every fucking day” he said before pushing my hair out of my face. 

His thrust were deep, intentional. “You're so beautiful, every part of you” he said. My hands moved from his biceps to his back. “You hear me mama? Every part of you” he said. His words alone could make me come undone. The way he talked to me, providing a sense of reassurance had me losing my composure. 

“Chris” I whined. “I know baby, I know, you're doing so good” he spoke. My nails dug into his back harder causing him to let out needy moans. “Your making such a mess for me” he said looking down to where our bodies connected.

“Give it to me mama, all your stress, all your overthinking. Let me take it all away from you” he said as he pushed as deep as he could inside me. The way his cock started to repeatedly kiss my cervix was mind numbing. 

Tears started to form in my eyes from the overwhelming amount of pleasure. Chris lowered his body, allowing himself to press kisses onto my lips as he continued to penetrate inside me. I moaned into his mouth while my hands pulled at his hair. 

Tears fell down my cheeks, my head dizzy and the band in my belly seconds away from snapping. His tongue swirled around mine before he bit down on my bottom lip and sucked. He thrusted harder and deeper until my body gave in, my orgasm crashing into me.

As my pussy started to convulse and squeeze around his cock he smiled like he had accomplished his biggest goal. “Good girl, so good baby” he said, his thrust becoming sloppy. A few seconds later his seed spilled into me, painting my walls with his hot spurts of cum. 

 He buried his face into my neck, completely consumed in the moment. We laid there out of breath as we came down from our highs before he rolled over off the bed and stood up.

I watched as he disappeared out of the room before returning with a rag. He pushed my legs apart and cleaned me up. There was something so gentle about his actions. Something about the way he moved with care and intention was almost foreign. 

“Do you want to take a shower here or anything?” he asked. I nodded my head. For the next 30 minutes I let the pouring hot water run down my body. Our sex replayed in my head. It wasn’t just the fact that he talked me through it. It was the words he was saying. 

He was gentle tonight. Softer. Which was unusual behavior for him. He touched me like he meant it. Like he needed me. Like it was more than just pleasure, like it was his purpose.

He spoke to me like he needed me to know he cared. Like he was burning it into my brain that I wasn’t just a warm body to sleep to next to at night. He spoke softly & cautiously like he was cradling me with his words. In hopes that I could see he meant every word.

His words lingered in my head. He provided a type of reassurance I didn’t know I needed. But it also made me question things even more. Did he mean the things he said? Did what he say imply he wanted more too?

I started to feel good. Maybe, just maybe, Chris and I could actually be together. 

Once I was out of the shower I got dressed in the clothes he let me borrow. I walked into his bedroom expecting him to be passed out by now or at least laying down. But once I entered the room he was sitting back at his desk with more weed, a scale and baggies. 

“Hey” he said with his back turned towards me as I sat down on his bed. “Hey” I responded. I watched him put the buds on the scale and continued to weigh them before placing them in bags.

“So I have to go make some deals here soon” he said. My jaw clenched and my body tensed. “Oh” I said. “Yeah I can drop you off at your house on the way” he spoke. And then it hit me. The sex that didn’t seem like it was out of lust. The words that weren’t meant for casual. None of it meant anything to him. 

All I could say was “okay”. He turned around to face me. He stood up from his desk and walked towards me. He sat down next to me on his bed and grabbed onto my hands. “Y/n” he said. “Hmm” I hummed. He let out a deep exhale.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “This. All of this is wrong Chris” I said, ripping my hands out of his hold. For a moment it looked like his face saddened, as if he actually gave a fuck before returning back to a blank expression.

“You use me and expect me to be okay with it” I said, tears already forming in my eyes. “I’m not using you y/n” he said. “Then what the fuck do you call it?” I exclaimed. He looked down at the floor avoiding eye contact. 

“There were terms and conditions to this shit y/n” he finally said. “To what exactly ?!’ I yelled. Our eyes locked, a moment of suffocating silence passed. “To us” he said. 

I shook my head in disbelief. “There is no fucking us” I said, tears rolling down my cheeks. He grabbed onto my hands once again and held onto them. His thumb rubbed circles into my hand, “just listen to me” he said.

“I know that you want more y/n, I know that” he said. I looked away from him, on the verge of losing all my shit. He grabbed onto my jaw, forcing me to look back at him. “I want more too” he said. 

Confusion entered my state of being. “What the fuck do you even mean?” I said. “I want more y/n” he repeated. He let go of my jaw and held back onto my hands. “But-” he started before I interrupted him. 

“There’s always a fucking but” I said. “But I can’t have more y/n. Not with you, not with anyone” he said. I scoffed before wiping away the tears on my face. “I want it so bad y/n. I want you so bad. But it can’t happen” he said. 

“Why?” I asked, my voice cracking. “Because it just can’t” he said. I rolled my eyes out of frustration. “Fuck you” I whispered. “Stay the night” he said. “Fuck you” I repeated. “I’m sorry” he said quietly. 

He grabbed onto my body and pulled me into him. His arms wrapped around my body as if that would solve everything. As if it would stop the ache in my chest. He played with my hair while I continued to cry in his arms.

“It’s okay baby” he said. “Don’t call me that” I said, trying to regain my composure. “Just let it out my sweet girl. It’s okay” he said as he held onto me. I couldn’t stop crying, the pain in my chest was still there. But his touch was grounding and soothing. 

VIRGIN? ࣭ ⭑ ( ｡ featuring . . . chris sturniolo

this will contain . . . dom!nerd!chris, spanking, rough sex, degradation, orgasm denial, edging, fingering, overstimulation, hair pulling, fingers in mouth, brief choking, creampie, mild humiliation, etc.

you met chris during your freshman year of college, back when gen eds still had lecture halls packed with hungover students and you were too busy flirting with the guy behind you to pay attention to the syllabus. chris sat in the front row, always on time, always typing faster than the professor could speak. you didn't talk to him at first. he was quiet, soft-spoken, a little awkward—but sharp as hell, and once you were grouped for a project in psych, you realized he wasn't shy so much as selective.

you, on the other hand, were loud, social, and unapologetically open about everything—your opinions, your hookups, your weekend party plans. you weren't ashamed of how many people you'd been with. if anything, you liked watching chris blush when you casually mentioned fucking someone in the backseat of their car or getting eaten out in the frat house laundry room. he'd adjust his glasses, press his lips together, and look anywhere but at you.

now, sophomore year, you and chris were close. close enough to hang out late in his dorm with your legs in his lap. close enough to let your jokes get borderline inappropriate. close enough that you thought you knew him. in your mind, chris was textbook virgin material—never talked about sex, never mentioned a body count, always deflected when you asked. he didn't have a girlfriend, didn't flirt, didn't date. so naturally, you assumed he hadn't gotten around to it yet. maybe he was waiting for someone special. maybe he was nervous. maybe he just didn't have the confidence. either way, the idea of chris having any real experience never even crossed your mind.

you were very, very wrong.

chris wasn't a man-whore. he wasn't the type to sleep around for sport, and he didn't brag. but he wasn't inexperienced either. seven bodies, each one intentional. a handful of casual flings, one almost-relationship, and more than enough practice to know what he was doing. he just didn't feel the need to talk about it—not to anyone. especially not you. not when he could tell how much you liked playing the dominant one in the friendship. you liked teasing him, liked pretending he didn't know anything. and chris? he liked letting you think that.

which brings you to now—sprawled out in his one-person dorm room, papers scattered across his bed, half studying and half talking shit like usual. the desk light is on, casting a soft yellow glow across the room, and the sound of some random playlist hums quietly in the background. you're dressed comfortably—stretchy shorts that ride up every time you shift and a big tee that covers just enough to make it unfair. chris, as always, looks effortless in his nerdy little uniform: black sweatpants that sag a little too low on his hips and a tight, long-sleeve compression shirt that clings to every lean muscle in his upper body. he's leaning against the wall, long legs stretched out, eyes flicking back and forth between a printout and his notes. you're not paying attention. you haven't been for at least twenty minutes.

"sooo… i slept with that guy from my art history class,"'you say suddenly, voice light and smug as you stretch out across the mattress. chris doesn't look up. just hums softly in response, the sound low in his throat. you roll onto your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows so you can watch him while you talk. "he was cute. decent mouth, boring fingers. kinda soft. i had to fake it twice."

his pen keeps moving. steady. unaffected. you narrow your eyes. "you never tell me about your sex life. like, ever. i could probably name your gpa, your favorite protein bar, and the order of your morning routine, but i have no idea what you're like in bed."

"maybe that's not somethin' you need to know," he says without missing a beat. you scoff, smiling. "so you do have one." chris just shrugs, not even looking at you. and that makes you grin wider.

"what?" you tease. "scared to tell me you're a virgin?" that gets him. not visibly—not in any dramatic way—but his pen pauses for just a second too long. his shoulders stay relaxed, but his eyes finally lift to meet yours. "you think so?" he asks, calm. flat. you nod, teasing lilt in your voice. "one hundred percent positive you're a virgin."

he stares at you. you stare right back. and the tension, usually playful, suddenly shifts. still light, but dense enough to press against your chest. his lips twitch—not quite a smile, not quite a frown—and then he says it: "wan' see what a virgin can do?" your breath catches. for a second, you think you misheard him. but the look on his face tells you otherwise. he's serious. composed. like this has been sitting in his back pocket for weeks, waiting for you to finally test him hard enough. you lean back, settling against the headboard, raising a brow. "you're serious?"

chris doesn't respond. doesn't need to. he sets his notebook aside, pushes the last of his notes away, and shifts toward you without breaking eye contact. his hands find your hips first—strong, certain—and he pulls you gently, slowly, until you're flat on your back beneath him. his knees settle between your thighs, spreading them slightly as he leans down. your shirt rides up, shorts tugged tight around the tops of your thighs, but chris doesn't even glance down. his eyes stay locked on yours as he dips in, kisses you softly.

you kiss him back, waiting for the awkward tongue or messy pressure, but it doesn't come. it's gentle, yeah, but not unsure. his lips part yours like he knows exactly how he wants to take his time, and his hand comes up to cradle your jaw as he deepens it. it's a kiss that says he's not in a hurry. not at all.

you break the kiss first, smirking as you look up at him. "typical virgin," you mutter. he doesn't react. doesn't even blink. he just lowers his head to your neck, lips brushing softly along your skin. "you don't have to be gentle with me, you know," you add, almost challenging. he hums, breath warming the dip beneath your ear. "i know."

you scoff under your breath, cocky and unimpressed. "clearly not…" and that's when he sinks his teeth into your neck, hard enough to make you gasp—hands tightening around your hips like he's just made up his mind. his bite lingers just long enough to leave heat throbbing under your skin, and when he pulls back, his voice is lower than it's ever been.

"y'know," he says, tilting his head, "i've really had enough of the attitude. i think s'time i shut you up, yeah?" your smirk returns instantly. you roll your eyes as if he hasn't just made your heart skip. "you can try, virgin boy."

he doesn't rise to it—not with words, anyway. he just hums. quiet and calm, like he's already halfway to somewhere you can't follow. then he moves, pushing off the bed and standing at the edge with that same slow, deliberate control that's suddenly making you nervous. his hands reach out for your hips again and this time, he doesn't pull you gently—he drags you down the mattress until your thighs are hanging just slightly off the edge, knees bent, body sprawled under him like he's setting up a game he's been dying to play.

his voice comes again, firmer now: "ass up." and you listen. you shift to your stomach without a second thought, lifting your hips and arching your back into position, cheek pressed into the sheets. you feel the air hit your thighs as your oversized t-shirt rides up, and your breath catches when chris slides your shorts down to your thighs and pauses.

"no panties?" he says, voice dropping further. "been plannin' this, haven't you?" you don't answer. your face is already warm and your body is buzzing, and part of you wants to keep playing it cool—keep pretending this isn’t throwing you off balance.

bad idea.

his palm lands on your ass, fast and loud. the smack makes you jolt and hiss, more from surprise than pain, and he doesn't waste a second before rubbing over the sting with a gentle sweep of his hand. "i asked you a question, didn't i?" he says, calm but sharp.

you swallow and nod. "yeah," you breathe. "been wanting it." he lets out a soft, breathy laugh, one that sounds more like satisfaction than amusement. "mm. such a slut." his knees hit the floor behind you, and the next thing you feel is his hands—wide, steady, practiced—gripping both of your ass cheeks, spreading them apart without hesitation. the room goes quiet except for your breathing and the shift of fabric and skin, and then chris hums again, deep and almost pleased.

"hm. look at that," he murmurs, staring down at your soaked cunt. "fuckin' drippin' f'me." and then he's leaning in. no warning, no teasing. his tongue meets you with full intention, licking through your folds and groaning into your skin like he's waited months for this. his hands keep you spread open while he eats—sloppy and slow at first, then precise, mouth focused on your clit until you're grinding back against him in desperation. his tongue drags up and down before circling, sucking, licking again until your arms shake from holding yourself up.

you moan loud enough that it fills the room, and chris doesn't stop. doesn't pause. he just buries his face deeper and lets you cry out, fingers digging into your ass to keep you still. you feel the tip of one finger, then two, slip inside—easing in with a slow stretch that has your mouth falling open, eyes fluttering closed. he pumps them gently while his tongue stays locked on your clit, and it's all too much, too fast, too good. your stomach tightens and your thighs begin to tremble, that pressure building deep and low—until he pulls away. everything—his mouth, his fingers, his warmth—gone.

you whine before you can stop yourself, pushing back toward him with your hips, but he's already standing up again, towering over you with a fresh edge to his voice. "aw," he says, feigning sympathy, "you wanted to cum?" you whimper in response, breath shaky. your legs are sticky with slick and your skin's hot all over. he smacks your ass again, harder than before. "use your words like a big girl."

"y-yeah," you stammer, eyes squeezed shut. "please, chris. please…" you hear the shuffle of fabric—his sweatpants sliding down, the low groan that leaves his throat when his dick springs free. your hips twitch involuntarily, needing something to touch, to feel, and then his hand is on your back again, pressing you down into the bed. "stay just like that," he mutters. "don't fuckin' move."

his dick is hot and heavy as he runs it through your slick, dragging the head over your folds, letting it catch against your entrance again and again. he lets out a quiet groan at the wet sound it makes, then finally—finally—he presses in. not soft. not gentle. he sinks into you in one rough thrust, and your mouth drops open with a strangled moan. he's big, thick, filling you all at once without a single pause to let you adjust. your hips jerk forward from the force of it, knees nearly slipping on the sheets, and chris groans behind you—low and filthy, like he's been holding back all night.

he doesn't move. just holds there, deep inside, his palm still planted on the small of your back. "still a virgin?" he asks, voice thick. you try to speak—try to throw another jab, keep the upper hand—but all that comes out is a broken moan. you manage half the sentence: "yeah, you're s-still a virg—" and he pulls out halfway, then slams back in. you cry out, thighs shaking, arms barely keeping you upright.

"since you wan' be a lil fuckin' brat," chris mutters, hips still, dick buried to the base, "you'll do the work yourself."

you whine, low and desperate, hips squirming in his grip like you're trying to retreat—but there's nowhere to go. he's still buried inside you, thick and unyielding, his palm pressed to the small of your back keeping you locked in place. you feel every inch of him, the stretch still fresh and sharp, your walls fluttering around his dick as your body tries to adjust. it's overwhelming. too full, too deep, too sudden. you shift slightly, trying to roll your hips to find some kind of rhythm, some relief—but chris doesn't move. doesn't help. he just stands there behind you, breathing heavy, watching.

"what're you waitin' for?" he says after a moment, voice flat and laced with quiet challenge. "go on. do the work. this is what you wanted, right?" you turn your head against the mattress, eyes half-lidded and lips parted as you suck in a shaky breath. you want to mouth off—want to say something smug, something cocky, keep the upper hand—but your body betrays you. your thighs tremble when you start to move, back arching deeper as you pull forward slightly, then push back onto him in a slow, testing grind. the stretch is brutal, even with how wet you are. his dick drags against every sensitive spot inside you as you try to fuck yourself on him, try to show him you can handle it. you do it again, a little faster, trying to establish a rhythm. it's messy and uneven, but it's something. your hands claw at the sheets as you rock back again, your ass slapping softly against his pelvis.

"mm, yeah," chris hums above you, his hand sliding from your lower back to your hip, fingers digging into the flesh there as he watches you fuck yourself on his dick. "that's what i thought." you don't answer. can't. your breath comes out in gasps, each roll of your hips making it harder to think. you're doing exactly what he told you to, but it's not enough. not really. your pace starts to falter after a few minutes, your thighs burning and your arms weakening beneath you, and chris notices. he can feel it—the way your movements slow, the way you sink lower into the mattress with each tired thrust. and instead of helping you, instead of rewarding the effort, he tsks under his breath like he's disappointed.

"already gettin' tired?" he mutters. "but you were talkin' all that shit earlier, weren't you?" you start to whimper, hips stuttering as you try to keep going, but he cuts you off with another sharp smack to your ass—this one harder than the rest. your body jolts forward with the impact, a moan ripping from your throat as your walls clench around him involuntarily.

"pathetic," chris says, his tone flat but dripping in mockery. "thought you could handle a 'virgin,' right? what happened to all that attitude, huh?" you try to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a garbled sound—a half-broken sob against the sheets. your body feels hot all over, skin tingling, your cunt aching and tight around him. you need him to move. need him to do something.

he leans forward without warning, his chest brushing your back as his hand slides up your spine and tangles in your hair. he grips it tight, forcing your head back just enough so your cheek lifts from the mattress, and his other hand reaches around, fingers prying at your lips until two of them slip into your mouth. "open," he says, voice low and steady. "tongue out."

you obey instantly, tongue pressing against his fingers as he slides them deeper, thumb flattening on your tongue while the others rest inside your mouth. it's filthy. controlling. it leaves you drooling onto the sheets as your mouth stretches around him, throat vibrating with every sound you try to make. you moan around his fingers when he finally starts to move behind you—slow, grinding thrusts that feel impossibly deep with the way he angles his hips down. each push forward punches a breath out of your lungs, and every retreat makes you cry for more.

"mm," chris groans behind you, his voice closer now, his hips pressing harder. "fuckin' tight. y'feel that, baby? feel how good you grip me?" you moan again, louder this time, and he just pushes his fingers down harder on your tongue to shut you up. your eyes roll back, body twitching as he begins to thrust harder, rougher, fucking you like he's trying to prove a point. his hand on your hip keeps you steady, dragging you back to meet every slam of his dick, the sound of skin against skin echoing off the walls of his tiny dorm. your thighs shake uncontrollably now, and you're practically drooling around his fingers as your body starts to break apart beneath him.

"yeah?" he pants, voice ragged with effort. "feels so good, doesn't it, baby? this what you needed? needed me deep inside you? thrusting into you all rough like that?" all you can do is sob—no real words, just broken, desperate sounds as your body trembles under the force of it all. your pussy flutters around him, tight and wet and throbbing, and chris groans deep in his chest when he feels it.

"i know, baby," he murmurs. "i know it."

he pulls his fingers from your mouth and lets them trail down your chin, your spit glistening on your skin. his hand finds your throat next—not squeezing, just resting there, heavy and warm—as he keeps fucking into you at a punishing pace. you're so far gone you can't tell where your body ends and his begins, your vision blurred and your mind clouded with heat and sound and scent. his dick is so deep it feels like he's splitting you in half, like you'll never be able to think straight again without remembering what this felt like.

you thought you could handle him.

you thought he was soft.

you thought he was a virgin.

you were so, so wrong.

you don't know when your moans turn into full blown cries—somewhere between his dick slamming deep inside you and the sharp press of his hand around your throat, your body crosses a line. your legs aren't just shaking now—they're folding under you. your arms gave up minutes ago, chest collapsed into the mattress, spine arched in a perfect curve while he keeps holding you in place like he owns you. your mouth is open, your eyes squeezed shut, and everything feels tight and slick and heavy, like your body's been split into pieces and chris is the only one holding them together.

he's breathing hard now, jaw clenched above you as he fucks into you like he's possessed—deep, brutal thrusts that make your whole body jerk with each impact. his grip on your hip is so tight it might bruise. his palm slides from your throat to your jaw, forcing your face to the side so he can see the mess you've become. your spit's on your chin, your mascara smudged, and there's a thin sheen of sweat sticking your shirt to your back. he doesn't say anything for a moment. just watches. breathes. thrusts.

and then, low and clear in your ear: "you still think m'a fuckin' virgin?" you try to shake your head, but it's weak, barely a twitch. your voice comes out as a slurred moan—something like no, but not quite human. "mm. that's what i thought," he murmurs, voice dark with satisfaction. "you run your mouth like a brat, but look at you now—barely takin' me, gettin' ready to tap out."

you feel his hand slide down, fingers slipping between your legs until they find your clit again—sensitive, swollen, already throbbing from being teased. the second he touches you there, you cry out, body jolting in overstimulation. "you close?" he asks, like it's casual. like he doesn't already know the answer from the way your cunt clenches around him every time he grinds against your sweet spot.

you nod frantically, almost sobbing. "yes, yes, please—" but it's too easy. he pulls his fingers away. slows his thrusts to an agonizing roll of his hips, dragging his dick out slowly before snapping back in hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. "yeah, no," he mutters. "not yet."

"chris," you sob, back arching, toes curling into the sheets. "please—"

"should've thought about that before you ran your fuckin' mouth," he snaps, and suddenly the rhythm picks back up again. he fucks into you harder this time, like punishing you for every word you've said since the moment you walked into his room. "call me 'virgin boy' again. go on. say it."

you're incoherent. your lips move, but the only thing you can manage is a gasp, a plea, your hands grabbing at the blankets like they might save you. he laughs. fucking laughs. low and mean. "yeah. not so mouthy now, are you?" his fingers return to your clit, fast and rough, rubbing tight circles that make your hips buck against his. you're begging without words now, just high, desperate noises, whimpering into the mattress as your orgasm coils tighter and tighter until you're seconds away from snapping—and again, he stops.

you whine, full-body shaking, face crumpling against the sheets. you're soaked. trembling. ruined. "chris," you cry, voice raw. "please. i-i can't—" he grabs your hair again, pulls your head up so your ear is near his mouth. "yes you can," he says, cruel but quiet. "you wanted this to happen, you begged for this to happen, so now you have no other choice but to take it."

then he pushes your face back down. hand back on your hip. cock slamming into you again like he's trying to make you forget your own name. every thrust punches another moan out of you, rough and desperate, your body grinding into the mattress, thighs soaked and shaking as he gives you no space to recover. no escape. just him. inside you. everywhere.

"gonna cum," you choke out, voice high and broken. "go ahead," he says, voice thick with arousal. "cum all over my fuckin' dick, mama." and you do. hard. your whole body seizes under him, every nerve on fire, pussy clenching so tight around him that he groans—loud and deep—like the sound gets dragged out of him from somewhere in his chest. your orgasm crashes over you in waves, dizzying and uncontrollable, your cries muffled by the sheets, thighs twitching violently as you come harder than you ever have in your life.

"fuck—there you go," chris grits through his teeth. "just like that. look so fuckin' good when you fall apart." he doesn't stop. he keeps fucking you through it, deep and relentless, using your spasming cunt to chase his own high. he's not even trying to hold back now—his grip turns bruising, his breathing ragged, dick slamming into you at a brutal pace until you're crying all over again.

"shit—gonna—" chris cuts himself off with a groan, then slams into you one last time and holds there, buried deep, his dick twitching as he spills inside you. the heat of it floods your already-sensitive body, and all you can do is moan, breathless and wrecked. chris stays still for a few seconds, head tipped back, chest rising and falling as he comes down from it.

then he slowly pulls out, careful with your oversensitive body, your hips jerking as his dick leaves you. his cum leaks down your thighs almost immediately, and you can barely move. your body is limp, shaking, forehead pressed into the sheets as you gasp for air. he bends over you, fingers brushing your lower back, light now. reverent. "you okay?" he whispers, voice softer again. real.

you nod weakly, and he presses a kiss to your spine. then another to your shoulder. and finally one to the base of your neck, right where he bit you earlier—like sealing it. like claiming it. you don’t say anything for a while. you don't need to.

he already proved everything he needed to.

𖥔﹒ 💌 ˇ ⋆ ╱ for my annoying ass wife @sturnsblogs 🙄🙄 YES I KNOW IT'S OFF TOPIC, but i have another one coming for you either later tonight or tomorrow. also not proofread, so any mistakes you see are figments of your imagination.

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