sturniolosgf

Summary: After coming home from surgery, y/n is weak, drowsy, and recovering slowly while Chris takes care of her with quiet, constant attention. He helps her with everything—from getting her settled to making sure she eats, takes her meds, and rests comfortably. In the calm, blurry hours of recovery, his presence becomes steady and grounding, showing his love through gentle actions rather than words, as he refuses to leave her side.

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Okay, soft mode. The kind that feels like warm blankets, sleepy afternoons, and someone being so gentle with you it almost makes your chest ache.

The ride home is quieter than you expected.

Not uncomfortable—just… soft. Muted, like the whole world has been turned down a few notches.

Everything feels a little slow, a little hazy. The anesthesia still lingers in your veins, making your thoughts float instead of land. You rest your head against the window for a moment, watching the city blur past, but it’s too much—too bright, too fast.

“Hey,” comes his voice, low and careful.

Chris Sturniolo reaches over from the driver’s seat, one hand briefly leaving the wheel just to touch your arm—grounding, checking. His thumb brushes lightly over your sleeve.

“You okay?”

You nod, even though it’s more of a slow tilt of your head than anything convincing.

“Mhm… just tired.”

“Yeah, I know,” he murmurs, like he expected that. Like he’s already three steps ahead of whatever you need.

The rest of the drive, he doesn’t say much. But he keeps glancing over at you at red lights, like he’s making sure you’re still there, still breathing, still okay. Every time your eyes flutter closed for too long, he gently calls your name, just to keep you from drifting too far.

When you get home, you barely have time to register being parked before he’s already out of the car.

Your door opens, and the cool air hits your face.

“Don’t even try,” he says softly when you shift like you’re about to get out on your own.

You give him a sleepy, half-hearted look. “I can walk…”

“Yeah, and I can fly,” he replies, not even missing a beat.

Before you can argue, his arm is around you—firm, steady, careful. He doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t pull. Just supports, letting you lean as much as you need.

Your steps are slow, uneven, and the ground feels weirdly far away, but he adjusts to you like it’s instinct. Like he’s memorized your rhythm.

“Easy,” he murmurs when you stumble slightly, his grip tightening just enough to keep you steady. “I got you.”

And he does.

The whole way inside.

The apartment feels warmer than usual. Or maybe it’s just him.

He doesn’t let go of you until you’re sitting on the bed, and even then, he lingers—hands hovering for a second like he’s making sure you won’t just… disappear if he steps away.

“Okay,” he exhales quietly, running a hand through his hair. “Stay. Don’t move. I’m gonna grab your meds and water.”

You blink up at him, a little dazed. “Bossy.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, already halfway out of the room. “Only when you’re like this.”

You hear him moving around—drawers opening, cabinets shutting, the soft clink of a glass being filled. It’s such a normal sound, but right now it feels… different. Intentional. Like every little thing he’s doing is for you.

When he comes back, he kneels in front of you instead of just handing things over.

“Alright,” he says gently, placing the glass in your hands but keeping one of his underneath it, just in case. “Small sips. Doctor’s orders.”

You obey without thinking, eyes still heavy, movements slow. A bit of water slips at the corner of your mouth, and before you can even react, he’s already there—thumb brushing it away, absentminded, soft.

“Mess,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to it. Just fondness.

He hands you the medication, watching closely as you take it, like he doesn’t trust the universe not to mess this up somehow.

“Good,” he nods after a second. “Okay. Now—lie down.”

You hesitate, glancing at the pillows like they’re suddenly complicated.

“I feel weird,” you admit quietly.

His expression softens instantly.

“I know,” he says, voice dropping even lower. “Come here.”

He helps you shift, guiding you gently until you’re lying back. He adjusts the pillows behind your head one by one, not satisfied until you look actually comfortable.

Then comes the blanket.

You watch, a little out of it, as he pulls it up over you, tucking it around your sides like you might fall apart if he doesn’t do it just right.

“You don’t have to tuck me in like a burrito,” you mumble.

He shrugs, smoothing the edge of the blanket anyway. “Too late.”

For a while, you just lie there.

Half-awake. Half-asleep.

He moves quietly around the room—grabbing things, setting stuff within your reach, dimming the lights. At some point, he disappears into the kitchen again, and you hear the faint sound of something heating up.

When he comes back, he’s holding a small tray.

“Soup,” he announces softly. “Very gourmet. Five-star.”

You squint at it. “It’s from a can.”

“Hey. Don’t disrespect my culinary skills right now.”

But he sits beside you, helping you sit up just enough to eat. He doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t get impatient when you take forever to swallow, when your hands are a little shaky.

At one point, you pause, your energy dipping fast.

He notices immediately.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he says, setting the tray aside before you even have to ask. “You can finish later.”

You nod, already sinking back into the pillows.

Time blurs after that.

The room is dim, quiet, safe.

At some point, you feel the mattress dip beside you. You don’t open your eyes, but you know it’s him. You’d know it anywhere.

His hand finds yours under the blanket, fingers lacing gently with yours.

“You’re doing good,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself.

Your thumb moves weakly against his, a small, sleepy response.

“Chris…” you mumble.

“Yeah?”

“Stay.”

There’s not even a second of hesitation.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says.

And he doesn’t.

He stays right there, sitting beside you as you drift in and out of sleep. Every time you stir, his hand is still there. Every time your breathing changes, he glances over, checking.

At one point, you wake just enough to feel his fingers brushing your hair back from your face—slow, repetitive, soothing.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispers when he realizes you’re awake.

You don’t argue.

You can’t.

Because you feel safe in a way that’s almost overwhelming. Heavy, warm, real.

And as you drift off again, his hand still holding yours, there’s only one clear thought left in your mind—

He really meant it.

He’s not going anywhere.

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hii guys… i know it’s been a while 🫶🏻 i hope you’re all doing okay <3 life has been kinda crazy lately, i’ve been super busy and stressed with school and everything, but i’m trying my best to get back into writing because i really missed it

this time i wanted to try something a little different and wrote a full fluffy one shot instead of my usual angsty stuff… and honestly it felt so comforting to write 🥺 i hope it gives you the same soft feeling while reading it

as always, thank you for being here and for your patience, it means more than you think 💌

also tell me, who’s your favorite between nick, matt, and chris? and what’s your favorite video of theirs? i love knowing your favorite moments because it gives me so much inspo for future stories and scenes

CAUGHT BETWEEN THEM

⤷ warnings . . . smut(explicit), pervert chris & matt, domination, rough detailed sex scenes, threesome(DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THESE THEMES MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!!)

summary: when Chris and Matt are not listening to you while you’re talking so you end up in a tense situation.

The living room had started innocently enough just you in the middle of the couch, rambling animatedly about the disaster that had happened in your sociology class, hands moving everywhere as Chris and Matt sat on either side of you.

At first, you hadn’t noticed the shift.

The silence.

The way Chris kept watching your mouth instead of listening.

The way Matt had moved closer, his knee brushing yours, his hand resting on your thigh just a little too deliberately.

It only hit you when your words started to falter under the weight of both their stares.

“Why are you both looking at me like that?” you’d laughed nervously.

Chris had only smirked, fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Because you have no idea what you do to us.”

Matt’s hand had tightened slightly on your thigh, his voice soft against your ear. “The way you talk, the way you get all worked up… it drives us insane.”

The tension built so fast after that it was impossible to think. Chris’s hand in your hair, Matt’s lips ghosting over your neck, both of them closing in until you were trapped between heat and teasing touches.

When Matt asked if you wanted them to stop, the only thing you could whisper was no.

That one word changed everything.

By the time you’re above Chris, the room feels molten.

Your body moves over him in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, every roll of your hips drawing a wrecked groan from his lips. He’s sprawled beneath you, hands gripping your waist possessively, guiding you down every time your movements falter.

“Fuck,” Chris breathes, eyes dragging over the arch of your back. “You look unreal like this.”

The praise sends heat straight through you.

Then Matt steps into your line of sight.

He takes his time, standing at the edge of the bed and watching the way your body moves with Chris’s, the way your face already looks dazed with pleasure. His hand comes up to your jaw, fingertips tracing lightly over your cheek before sliding to your throat, tilting your head up.

“Eyes on me,” he says quietly.

The softness in his voice makes it impossible not to obey.

Your gaze lifts to his instantly, even as Chris thrusts up from beneath you in a deeper, slower rhythm that makes your breath catch.

Matt leans down and kisses you rubbing my clit sending shivers of pleasure all over my body .

Slow.

Lingering.

Almost unfairly sweet compared to the way Chris is making your whole body shake.

“So pretty like this,” Matt whispers against your lips. “Taking us so well.”

Chris groans beneath you, hands tightening on your hips as he sets a harder pace, each thrust dragging through you until your thighs start to tremble.

Matt stays close, one hand stroking your hair back from your damp face, the other still holding your jaw gently so your eyes stay locked on his.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Stay with me.”

You try God, you do but the combination of Chris beneath you and Matt’s quiet control in front of you is enough to make your thoughts dissolve completely.

Chris curses under his breath, fingers digging into your skin. “She’s tight and so wet.”

Matt smiles, his forehead brushing yours. “I know. She likes this.”

Your body jolts when Chris thrusts deeper, the new angle making a broken sound spill from your lips.

Matt’s thumb brushes your cheek soothingly as my lips wrap around his cock. “Good girl. Just keep looking at me.”

The praise hits harder than anything else.

Chris’s rhythm underneath you turns devastatingly steady, every thrust landing in the same perfect place until your whole body is shaking above him.

“She’s close,” Chris groans, voice rough and breathless.

Matt leans closer, lips near your ear now, his tone warm and coaxing. “Then let go for us.”

That’s what breaks you.

The softness in Matt’s voice.

The way Chris’s hands hold you down into every final thrust.

The feeling of being completely surrounded by them.

The release tears through you so hard it leaves you trembling, your body collapsing forward as wave after wave crashes over you.

Chris groans the second he feels you clench around him, his hips stuttering beneath you as he follows right after, head falling back against the pillows with a wrecked curse.

“Holy fuck.”

For a second, the room is nothing but heavy breathing and the aftershocks still running through your body.

Then Matt’s hand cradles your face, grounding you, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice full of quiet praise. “Good girl.”

And caught between Chris’s hands still warm on your hips and Matt’s softness above you, you realize there was never any going back after the couch.

Not after the way they looked at you.

Not after the way they touched you.

Not after this.

hi guys i just posted the chratt fic and i’m kind of shaking rn 😭💌 hope you like it!! pls tell me your thoughts, i live for your reactions. also send me requests if you want more + if you wanna be added to my taglist just let me know 🫶🏻