ghoststurnx

[ghoststurnx]

BETTER - M.S.

warnings: unprotected sex (don't do that), smut, toxic, strong language, alcohol use

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

you didn’t know what it was with chris at first.

when it started, you thought it might be something beautiful—one of those connections that just happen without effort, the kind people write songs about. he could be charming when he wanted to be, and there were moments where you swore he saw you.

but somewhere along the way, that warmth rotted.

it wasn’t love. it was possession. it was an unspoken agreement that you were his, without him ever having to give you anything back. the good days grew fewer. the bad ones—those moments of cold indifference, the silences that stretched on forever—became the rule instead of the exception.

still, you stayed. maybe out of habit. maybe because you thought it would change.

or maybe because you wanted so badly for it to be real.

tonight, though… tonight was different.

you saw him before he saw you—his hand on another girl’s waist, head tilted down to kiss her like it was the easiest thing in the world.

and it wasn’t the first time.

you stood there with nothing in your hands, feeling stupid, like the last person to get the joke.

“a drink?”

the voice came from beside you, pulling you back to the noise of the party.

you turned and found matt. he was holding out a cup toward you, his dark eyes warm even in the dim light. he wore that easy smile that always seemed to reach his eyes.

“thanks,” you said, taking the drink, fingers brushing against his.

“he’s an idiot, you know,” matt said after a beat, his voice low and certain. “not to see your beauty.”

something about the way he said it made your chest tighten. he didn’t say it like a line. he said it like he meant it. his gaze lingered—not in a way that made you want to shrink, but in a way that made you feel… seen. precious, even.

you smiled faintly, but your thoughts were tangled. you had chris.

or… you thought you did.

but whatever you had wasn’t love. it wasn’t even respect. and right now, chris was kissing someone else without a care in the world.

so why couldn’t your lips be on matt’s?

it was almost too easy to drift toward each other, to find yourselves in the quieter part of the house. the muffled bass from the party faded as matt led you upstairs, checking rooms until he found one empty. the door clicked shut, and suddenly you were aware of how close he was, of the way his hand hesitated at your hip like he was giving you a chance to walk away.

“are you sure it won’t be weird afterwards?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“hundred percent,” you said, smiling just enough to mask the rush of nerves in your chest.

the air between you shifted instantly. one moment you were standing there, and the next his mouth was on yours—hungry, deliberate, like he’d been holding back for too long. you kissed him back like you’d been starving.

clothes became an afterthought. your shirt, his jacket, the sound of fabric sliding to the floor. his skin was warm under your hands, his breath quickening against your cheek.

when he pushed you back onto the bed, it wasn’t rushed. his weight settled over you, steady and grounding. his eyes searched yours, waiting for that unspoken confirmation before moving again. and then—he was in you.

it wasn’t just physical—it was consuming. his hips met yours in a rhythm that made your breath catch, each movement pulling something raw and unfiltered from you. you couldn’t think about chris. you couldn’t think about anything except matt—the way he whispered your name like it meant something, the way his hands gripped your thighs like he was afraid you might disappear.

later, you were the one moving—straddling him, your fingers digging into the sheets as you rode him. his hands held your waist firmly, guiding you, grounding you. the pleasure built until you were gasping, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you upright.

by the time your third release tore through you, you were spent—collapsed against his chest, your ear pressed to the rapid beat of his heart.

you looked up at him. he was watching you like you were the only person in the world.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, and it wasn’t just the words—it was the way his voice softened, the way his thumb brushed your cheek.

and for the first time in a long time, you believed it.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

- wrapped with love, karla ᢉ𐭩

[ghoststurnx]

SKIN TO SKIN - M.S.

warnings: titty kissing, intimacy, touching, strong language

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

the day had stretched long for matt—hours under hot lights, repeating takes, performing with energy he wasn’t sure he had. the moment the camera cut for the last time, all he wanted was you. not food, not rest—just you. now, with the sun dipping low behind the curtains and the world locked outside, he finally had what he needed.

you sat on his lap, both of you bare, skin to skin—warm, grounding, real. his body was heavy beneath yours, not in a way that asked anything of you, but in a way that said he was finally letting go. your fingers moved slowly across his chest and down his abs, drawing soft lines into his skin, feeling the quiet rise and fall of his breath. you weren’t trying to fix anything. you were just there. and that was everything.

hiss head rested between your breasts, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist like he didn’t ever want to let go. you felt him breathe you in, his face buried against you, and then his lips began to move—brushing over your skin, lazy kisses, slow and open-mouthed, like he had nowhere else to be and no one else to be for.

“i love you,” he murmured, voice low and warm against your chest. then, a quiet, almost amused hum. “i love you… and your tits.”

you laughed, soft and real, dragging your nails lightly down his ribs in a slow, teasing path. he groaned under his breath, the sound barely a whisper, and tightened his arms around you. not in need—in gratitude. like having you there was the only thing keeping him from floating off into exhaustion.

there was no performance here. no pressure. just the two of you wrapped around each other, the late light spilling in soft gold through the curtains. his breath against your skin. your hands on his. and that sweet, heavy silence only two people completely at home in each other can share.

no cameras. no audience.

just you. just him. just love—raw, a little messy, completely honest, and entirely yours.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

- wrapped with love, karla ᢉ𐭩

- i made matt version so i hope yall like it !!

[ghoststurnx]

FOGGED WINDOWS

warnings: smut, semi-public unprotected sex (don't do that), argument tension, strong language

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

you haven’t said a word since the fight.

the car is filled with nothing but the sound of the engine and the static buzz of tension. chris’s hands are tight on the steering wheel, knuckles pale, jaw locked. you stare out the window, arms folded, lips pressed in a stubborn line—but every inch of you feels wired, like you’re waiting for something to snap.

and then it does.

he swerves off the road without a word, pulling into a quiet, tree-lined turnout. the car jolts to a stop. the silence swells for a beat, and then he turns to you—eyes dark, voice low.

“come here.”

you hesitate—not out of fear, but because you already know how this ends. you move anyway, slipping into his lap as the seat slides back beneath you. his hands find your waist instantly, warm and firm, like he’s been needing to touch you for hours.

he kisses you hard—but it’s not angry. it’s aching. slow. like he’s trying to say everything you both refused to earlier.

your fingers tangle in his hair as you settle over him, your bodies fitting together like instinct. he lifts your hips gently, guides you down with a soft, shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours as he sinks into you.

neither of you speaks.

there’s only the shared rhythm—slow, deep, steady. his hands trail under your shirt, your hips rolling in sync, mouths meeting in breathless kisses between every quiet moan. the windows fog up around you, blurring out the world, trapping all the warmth and want in the small space you’ve claimed for yourselves.

“i love you,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours like it’s the only thing that matters. “even when we fight. i still love you.”

and when your body trembles, coming apart around him with soft gasps and desperate kisses, he follows—holding you close, grounding himself in the way you fit against him like home.

no more silence. just the sound of your breathing, your heartbeat, and the soft creak of leather as he holds you, still inside you, until you both remember that this is what matters.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

- thank you so so much for all the support !! i appreciate it ! 💕

- wrapped with love, karla ᢉ𐭩

[ghoststurnx]

FOGGED WINDOWS - C.S.

warnings: smut, semi-public unprotected sex (don't do that), argument tension, strong language

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

you haven’t said a word since the fight.

the car is filled with nothing but the sound of the engine and the static buzz of tension. chris’s hands are tight on the steering wheel, knuckles pale, jaw locked. you stare out the window, arms folded, lips pressed in a stubborn line—but every inch of you feels wired, like you’re waiting for something to snap.

and then it does.

he swerves off the road without a word, pulling into a quiet, tree-lined turnout. the car jolts to a stop. the silence swells for a beat, and then he turns to you—eyes dark, voice low.

“come here.”

you hesitate—not out of fear, but because you already know how this ends. you move anyway, slipping into his lap as the seat slides back beneath you. his hands find your waist instantly, warm and firm, like he’s been needing to touch you for hours.

he kisses you hard—but it’s not angry. it’s aching. slow. like he’s trying to say everything you both refused to earlier.

your fingers tangle in his hair as you settle over him, your bodies fitting together like instinct. he lifts your hips gently, guides you down with a soft, shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours as he sinks into you.

neither of you speaks.

there’s only the shared rhythm—slow, deep, steady. his hands trail under your shirt, your hips rolling in sync, mouths meeting in breathless kisses between every quiet moan. the windows fog up around you, blurring out the world, trapping all the warmth and want in the small space you’ve claimed for yourselves.

“i love you,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours like it’s the only thing that matters. “even when we fight. i still love you.”

and when your body trembles, coming apart around him with soft gasps and desperate kisses, he follows—holding you close, grounding himself in the way you fit against him like home.

no more silence. just the sound of your breathing, your heartbeat, and the soft creak of leather as he holds you, still inside you, until you both remember that this is what matters.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

- thank you so so much for all the support !! i appreciate it ! 💕

- wrapped with love, karla ᢉ𐭩

[ghoststurnx]

THE THREE WORDS

warnings: fluff, intimacy, comfort, emotions

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

you hadn’t been together long.

a few weeks, maybe. a little more than a month if you were counting from that first nervous, lingering kiss on your front porch. it still felt new—the kind of new where your heart stuttered every time he reached for your hand, where his touch still gave you goosebumps, and where you were still memorizing the little things: the shape of his laugh, the lines that formed at the corners of his eyes when he smiled for real, the way he always rested a hand on your back like he needed to know you were still there.

but even with all the newness, this—him—felt strangely, stupidly easy.

like breathing.

like you’d done this in another life and just picked up where you left off.

you didn’t say that, of course. you hadn’t said a lot of things. you were still getting comfortable with the quiet, the space between “i like you” and “i love you,” still trying to find the rhythm of this strange, beautiful thing you were building together.

so when he’d asked if you wanted to go for a drive, you didn’t hesitate. you never did with chris. something about him always made you say yes—like your heart knew what your head hadn’t figured out yet.

that’s how you ended up here, lying on the hood of his car, the city lights stretched out like fireflies in the dark, far below the cliffside where he’d parked. the sky above you was scattered with stars, a few clouds trailing across the moon like they were late to some other night.

he’d brought a blanket from the trunk—thick, worn, soft—and wrapped it around the two of you before tugging you down against his chest. now you were tucked beneath his chin, your legs tangled with his, one of his hands resting low on your waist while the other idly traced circles against your arm.

you hadn’t spoken in a while. neither of you needed to.

his warmth surrounded you, his heartbeat steady and sure under your cheek. the kind of silence that settled between you wasn’t empty—it was full. like all the things you couldn’t quite say out loud yet had found a way to exist anyway.

chris shifted slightly beneath you, his chest rising with a breath that didn’t sound casual.

you felt him glance down before he spoke—and even then, it was so quiet it could’ve been the wind.

“i love you.”

it didn’t hit like lightning. it didn’t knock the breath out of your lungs.

it landed gently, like the words had been floating there between you for a while, just waiting for him to give them shape.

you froze anyway—not because you didn’t feel it too, but because it suddenly bloomed in your chest like you’d been holding your breath for weeks without realizing.

chris didn’t pull away. he didn’t shift, didn’t try to make it easier. he just let the moment settle.

“you don’t have to say it back,” he said, still soft, his voice brushing against your hair. “i didn’t say it to hear it. i just wanted you to know.”

that should’ve been it. he gave you the out.

but you didn’t want it.

you tilted your face up just enough to whisper the words, every syllable shaky but certain, like your heart had finally caught up to your mouth.

“i love you too.”

thee silence that followed was deeper somehow, but sweeter.

hiss hand on your back tightened just slightly as he let out a breath, and then he kissed your forehead—a long, quiet press of his lips, like a promise.

no big reaction. no rush. just that kiss, and then him tucking you closer, like he was trying to memorize the way you fit against him.

you didn’t open your eyes. you didn’t need to.

you just let yourself exist in the moment—wrapped in him, wrapped in the cool night air, wrapped in something real.

and just like that, it didn’t feel new anymore.

it felt like home.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

- soft chris has my heart

- wrapped with love, karla ᢉ𐭩

[ghoststurnx]

THE THREE WORDS - C.S.

warnings: fluff, intimacy, comfort, emotions

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

you hadn’t been together long.

a few weeks, maybe. a little more than a month if you were counting from that first nervous, lingering kiss on your front porch. it still felt new—the kind of new where your heart stuttered every time he reached for your hand, where his touch still gave you goosebumps, and where you were still memorizing the little things: the shape of his laugh, the lines that formed at the corners of his eyes when he smiled for real, the way he always rested a hand on your back like he needed to know you were still there.

but even with all the newness, this—him—felt strangely, stupidly easy.

like breathing.

like you’d done this in another life and just picked up where you left off.

you didn’t say that, of course. you hadn’t said a lot of things. you were still getting comfortable with the quiet, the space between “i like you” and “i love you,” still trying to find the rhythm of this strange, beautiful thing you were building together.

so when he’d asked if you wanted to go for a drive, you didn’t hesitate. you never did with chris. something about him always made you say yes—like your heart knew what your head hadn’t figured out yet.

that’s how you ended up here, lying on the hood of his car, the city lights stretched out like fireflies in the dark, far below the cliffside where he’d parked. the sky above you was scattered with stars, a few clouds trailing across the moon like they were late to some other night.

he’d brought a blanket from the trunk—thick, worn, soft—and wrapped it around the two of you before tugging you down against his chest. now you were tucked beneath his chin, your legs tangled with his, one of his hands resting low on your waist while the other idly traced circles against your arm.

you hadn’t spoken in a while. neither of you needed to.

his warmth surrounded you, his heartbeat steady and sure under your cheek. the kind of silence that settled between you wasn’t empty—it was full. like all the things you couldn’t quite say out loud yet had found a way to exist anyway.

chris shifted slightly beneath you, his chest rising with a breath that didn’t sound casual.

you felt him glance down before he spoke—and even then, it was so quiet it could’ve been the wind.

“i love you.”

it didn’t hit like lightning. it didn’t knock the breath out of your lungs.

it landed gently, like the words had been floating there between you for a while, just waiting for him to give them shape.

you froze anyway—not because you didn’t feel it too, but because it suddenly bloomed in your chest like you’d been holding your breath for weeks without realizing.

chris didn’t pull away. he didn’t shift, didn’t try to make it easier. he just let the moment settle.

“you don’t have to say it back,” he said, still soft, his voice brushing against your hair. “i didn’t say it to hear it. i just wanted you to know.”

that should’ve been it. he gave you the out.

but you didn’t want it.

you tilted your face up just enough to whisper the words, every syllable shaky but certain, like your heart had finally caught up to your mouth.

“i love you too.”

thee silence that followed was deeper somehow, but sweeter.

hiss hand on your back tightened just slightly as he let out a breath, and then he kissed your forehead—a long, quiet press of his lips, like a promise.

no big reaction. no rush. just that kiss, and then him tucking you closer, like he was trying to memorize the way you fit against him.

you didn’t open your eyes. you didn’t need to.

you just let yourself exist in the moment—wrapped in him, wrapped in the cool night air, wrapped in something real.

and just like that, it didn’t feel new anymore.

it felt like home.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

- soft chris has my heart

- wrapped with love, karla ᢉ𐭩

[ghoststurnx]

TENSION - M.S.

warnings: smut, semi-public unprotected sex (don't do that), suggestive language, tension, enemies

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

you hated matt.

not in the casual, harmless way you might hate someone’s bad taste in music or the way they chewed their gum—no, this was real, tangible hate. the kind that settled deep in your chest every time he spoke with that smug, too-smooth tone of his. the kind that flared every time he walked into a room like he owned it. and the worst part?

you had to work with him.

same department, same floor, same meetings, same deadlines. a daily torment. your boss had paired you up six months ago under the idiotic belief that “tension breeds innovation.” maybe it did. you were both top performers—but that didn’t mean you had to like each other.

and now here you were. 10:03 PM. just the two of you left in the office.

the soft buzz of the overhead lights mixed with the hum of the air conditioning. the city outside glowed with neon and noise, but up here, it was quiet. the kind of quiet that made your skin prickle.

matt sat across the conference table from you, brow furrowed as he scrolled through the deck you’d spent all day arguing over. his tie was loose, sleeves rolled up, the top button undone. you hated that your eyes lingered.

“slide six still looks like shit,” he said, not looking up.

you exhaled through your nose. “maybe that’s because you keep insisting on using comic sans.”

he smirked. “it’s helvetica.”

“it’s criminal,” you muttered, standing to cross the room, grabbing a stale cookie from the break table.

he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “you always get snippy when you’re wrong.”

you turned slowly, eyeing him. “and you always get smug when you’re insecure.”

the silence that followed was heavy. familiar.

matt’s jaw clenched slightly. you noticed—and hated that you noticed. you hated how the light hit his cheekbones, how his shirt pulled slightly at the shoulders when he stretched.

“what are we even doing?” you said finally, gesturing at the mess of notes and glowing laptops. “it’s ten at night, we’re exhausted, and you’re just… pissing me off for fun at this point.”

he stood.

not fast. not threatening. but deliberate. the air shifted.

“i think we’re both doing the same thing,” he said, voice low. “trying not to say what we actually want to say.”

your throat went dry. “which is?”

he stepped closer. “that maybe we don’t just hate each other.”

your breath caught.

you should’ve pushed him away. should’ve told him to shut up, get out, grow up. but you didn’t move. your heartbeat was loud in your ears, your palms warm at your sides.

“say it,” you whispered.

he didn’t.

he kissed you.

it wasn’t soft. it wasn’t sweet. it was months—maybe years—of sharp words, accidental touches, loaded glances finally exploding.

you stumbled backward until your spine hit the wall. his hands gripped your waist like he didn’t trust this to be real—like he thought you might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. you kissed him back just as fiercely, nails dragging over the back of his neck, gasping against his lips as he pressed against you, all heat and tension and frustration finally unleashed.

“still hate me?” he asked, mouth brushing your jaw, voice ragged.

“more than ever,” you breathed, tugging at the buttons of his shirt.

the table was too far. the desk was closer. he turned you, guiding you toward it, papers and pens scattering to the floor as he lifted you onto the surface, stepping between your legs like he belonged there. like he always had.

you pulled him in again, your legs wrapping around his waist as your mouths collided—biting, tasting, claiming. his hands moved with purpose, and so did yours. there was nothing delicate about it, nothing cautious—just need, raw and real.

clothes came off in urgent pieces. hands roamed. bodies met.

you clung to him like you were still trying to win, like this was another round in the endless fight between you—except now it had a rhythm, a heat, a friction that made everything else fade out.

he pressed into you, and you exhaled his name like you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

the desk creaked under you. your breathing quickened. his lips were on your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone—and your fingers found his back, dug in, pulled him closer.

he moved inside you with a kind of urgency that bordered on reckless, like he was trying to erase every argument you’d ever had, every look you’d thrown his way. each thrust was sharp and deliberate, sending small shudders through your body as your hands gripped the edge of the desk behind you.

your forehead dropped to his shoulder, your breath hot against his skin. he hissed your name through gritted teeth, like it slipped out before he could catch it.

his grip on your hips tightened, dragging you toward him with each movement, your bodies crashing together again and again, harder, faster, until the rhythm turned ragged and breathless. you bit back a moan, your head tilting back, and he chased the sound with his mouth, kissing you again, messier this time—open-mouthed, panting, desperate.

you gasped as you came, your fingers locking around his shoulders, body arching against his. he wasn’t far behind, groaning into your neck, his movements faltering until he finally stilled, holding you like he wasn’t sure he was ready to let go.

there were no words after that.

you just stared at each other.

and for the first time, neither of you had anything clever to say.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

- i’m sorry, i’m on vacation, but I’ll try to be active

- wrapped with love, karla ᢉ𐭩

[ghoststurnx]

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡ 21 WITH NO KIDS

⤷ in which . . . chris puts a baby in you the night before he turns 22

⤷ warnings . . . smut, breeding kink, unprotected sex, dirty talk, rough sex, use of pet names, oral, (fem!recieving) fingering, clit play, cockwarming.

⤷ written by @delilahsturniolo do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

it’s late. the city hums below the windows, quiet and low, like it knows what’s about to happen. you’re sitting on the bed in one of those stupid oversized shirts he loves on you, your legs bare, your lip caught between your teeth as you watch him move around the hotel room. his birthday’s in an hour. he’s been smirking all night like he knows something you don’t.

and maybe he does. you don’t even notice he’s stopped until his shadow falls over you. he’s standing right in front of you now, shirtless, jaw tight with the way he’s clenching it. he drags his knuckles up your thighs slowly, until your breath hitches and he hears it.

“you know what i want for my birthday, sweetheart?” his voice is gravel, lazy and low. his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt like he owns you. maybe he does. you shake your head, whisper soft, “what?” his hands trail higher, pushing the shirt up over your hips. no panties. he fucking groans. “i wanna put a baby in you.”

your eyes widen, but your thighs press together instinctively. it’s not the first time he’s said it. but tonight, there’s something heavier behind it. something more. “chris—”

“nah,” he cuts you off, shaking his head as he gets on his knees in front of you, spreading you open like it’s his fucking right. “you think i haven’t been thinking about this all week?”your breath catches as he leans in and presses a kiss to your inner thigh, right near the crease, where he knows it drives you crazy. he looks up at you through those long lashes, his mouth so close to your cunt it makes you twitch.

“gonna fill you up tonight,” he murmurs. “fuck you so deep you won’t even be able to walk tomorrow. stretch you ‘til you’re begging me to stop.” you whimper when his tongue finally flicks over your clit. slow. teasing. he licks you like he has all the time in the world, mouth wet and hot and filthy.

you fall back on your elbows, hips rolling into his face, and he chuckles against your pussy. “already so fuckin’ needy. always like this for me, huh?” you nod, panting, your hands tangling in his hair as he starts to suck, tongue flattening and pressing hard. he eats you like it’s his last meal, like you’re the only thing keeping him alive. when he slips two fingers inside you, curling just right, you cry out.

“c-chris—please—”

he pulls back suddenly, his lips wet with you, his eyes dark. “on the bed.” you scramble up from your position on the edge of the bed and fully climb on. and he’s already climbing over you, shoving the shirt over your head and tossing it somewhere behind him. he kisses you hard, tasting yourself on his tongue, his body pressing you into the mattress.

he grabs your jaw when he pulls away, making you look at him. “you want this?” his voice is rough. “you want me to fuck a baby into you tonight?” your stomach flips, arousal so deep it’s dizzying. you nod. “yes.”

“say it.”

“i want you to put a baby in me.” that’s all it takes. he groans, low and wrecked, before lining himself up and pushing in, slow but firm. you both moan, your nails raking down his back as he bottoms out, deep and heavy inside you.

he doesn’t give you time to adjust. he starts moving, hips snapping into you with purpose, like he’s fucking his need straight into your soul. “you feel that?” he grits out. “feel how deep i am? ‘cause that’s where i’m gonna finish, mkay?” you cry out, your legs wrapping around his waist as he fucks you hard, hands gripping your hips to hold you still. he leans down, lips brushing your ear. “gonna make you a mom,” he growls. “my girl. carrying my kid. gonna see that bump and know i did that to you.”

you’re babbling now, incoherent moans and gasps and please please please spilling from your mouth. he doesn’t stop. if anything, he goes harder. “you’re taking it so well, baby. so fuckin’ tight. taking my cock so well.” you’re close. he can feel it. your body starts to tremble, your breath hitching in your throat as he hits that spot over and over again. his thumb moves down to your clit, rubbing fast, tight circles.

“cum for me,” he whispers. “wanna feel you squeeze around me while i fuck a baby into you.” and you do. you break. your whole body shudders as the orgasm crashes through you, stars behind your eyes, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. he follows you seconds later, groaning as he fucks into you one last time, deep and slow, hips pressed flush against yours as he finishes.

“fuck—yes, take it—” he hisses, holding you tight while he fills you up, his cock twitching inside you. “every drop, baby. keep it in.” he stays inside for a while, panting into your neck, his hands rubbing slow circles on your hips. you’re both sweaty. wrecked. quiet.

and then he leans back to look at you, his expression soft but still a little cocky. “happy early birthday to me.” you roll your eyes, breathless. “you’re insane.” he smirks, pressing a kiss to your lips. “nah. just in love.” and maybe a little obsessed with the idea of you carrying a mini version of him

© delilahsturniolo

💌: who else cried/came

[ghoststurnx]

LAZY MORNING - C.S.

warnings: smut, cowgirl, intimacy, unprotected sex (don't do that)

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

the room is quiet except for your breathing and the soft creak of the bed beneath you.

chris lies beneath you, shirtless, warm skin glowing in the golden morning light. his hands rest lightly on your thighs, thumbs brushing your skin like he’s memorizing every inch. you’re straddling him, slow and sunk deep, your bodies already connected in the most intimate way—and have been for what feels like forever.

it’s not frantic. it’s not about getting off. it’s just this—your hips moving gently, rhythm steady and unhurried, your chest brushing his with every motion.

he watches you like you’re the only thing that exists. blue eyes soft, sleepy, completely focused on you.

“god,” he breathes, voice rough and wrecked in that early-morning way, “you look so pretty like this.”

you lean down, resting your forehead against his, your hands braced on his chest. you feel his heart pounding under your palms, steady and strong. his hands slide up your back, fingers tracing your spine before settling at your waist, helping you rock into him—just a little deeper, a little slower.

“you feel so good,” you whisper, lips brushing his.

he groans, low and reverent. “i could stay like this forever.”

the way he looks at you, like he wants to crawl into your soul and stay there.

you keep moving, letting your body melt into his, every roll of your hips making him exhale a little harder. you can feel how close he is, not from the pace—but from the way his hands start to grip a little tighter, the way his eyes flutter shut only to open again because he needs to watch you fall apart.

“come for me, baby,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “wanna feel you…”

you do—quietly, fully, with your forehead pressed to his and your body shaking in his hands. he holds you through it, whispering soft praise, kissing your jaw, your shoulder, your lips.

chris follows with a deep groan, hands clutching at your waist as he releases inside you, warmth flooding you as his hips stutter up into yours. but even after he finishes, he doesn’t let you move. he just wraps his arms around your back and pulls you down into him, keeping you close, still joined, still connected.

you lie like that—panting, sticky, wrapped in each other—as the sunlight creeps higher across the sheets.

neither of you speaks for a long time.

eventually, he brushes your hair off your face and murmurs, “stay. just like this. don’t go anywhere.”

you kiss him, slow and deep. “i’m not going anywhere.”

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

- wrapped with love, karla ᢉ𐭩

[ghoststurnx]

12 TO 12 - M.S.

(inspirated by 12 to 12 - sombr)

warnings: angst, tension, confusion, situationship

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

you were something, but never someone’s.

not a couple. not strangers. not friends. just… entangled.

the kind of bond that didn’t have a label, but felt too deep to be casual. too confusing to be simple.

matt showed up like gravity—pulling you in without effort. one night he’d speak to you like you were the only person in the room, like your laugh made the air easier to breathe. he’d kiss you like the world might end before morning. and in those moments, it was easy to believe it was something real.

but then—just as suddenly—he’d shut you out.

cold texts.

missed calls.

avoidance without explanation.

and you’d be left wondering if you’d made the whole thing up in your head.

still, you stayed.

because he always came back.

because when it was good, it felt like home.

and because the maybe of what you could be hurt less than the reality of letting go.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

tonight was just another night.

another party.

another room full of people pretending they weren’t carrying things they couldn’t name.

you hadn’t come with anyone.

not looking for attention.

not trying to disappear either.

the music was loud enough to numb your thoughts, but not enough to drown them.

so you danced. slowly.

just enough to move.

to exist.

to feel something in the middle of all that noise.

and then—you felt it.

a shift in the air. a static charge.

you turned your head slightly. and there he was.

matt.

in a room full of people—i look for you,

alone at the bar.

leaning back, eyes half-lidded like he didn’t care about the world spinning around him.

girls hovered nearby—laughing too loud, brushing his shoulder, trying.

he let them. maybe he even said something to make them stay.

but it wasn’t real.

not the way it had been with you.

would you avoid me,

still, he didn’t look at you.

not at first.

so you kept dancing.

slower now.

less like movement—more like a message.

and then—his eyes found yours.

or would you look for me too?

it hit you like a shot to the chest.

that look.

the one that said everything and nothing all at once.

you stopped moving.

frozen in the middle of flashing lights and crashing bass and strangers sliding past you.

and you just stared.

for a second, you thought he’d look away.

pretend he didn’t see you.

pretend you hadn’t mattered.

but he didn’t.

he walked toward you.

slowly.

deliberately.

like something inside him had finally snapped into place.

like you were the only thing in the room that made sense.

he didn’t ask you to dance.

diidn’t say sorry.

didn’t offer an explanation.

he just stood there—so close.

tell me, is our story through? (through)

close enough that you could smell him.

close enough that you hated how easy it would be to forgive him.

“you look good tonight,” he said, voice low and rough, slicing through the noise like a secret made just for you.

you met his gaze.

didn’t look away.

“thanks.”

simple. polite.

wrapped in calm to hide the storm underneath.

but neither of you moved.

neither of you spoke again.

or do our hearts still beat in two?

and maybe you didn’t need to.

because the way he looked at you said he still saw you.

and the way you stayed said you still wanted him.

you weren’t defined.

you weren’t whole.

but in that moment—you were undone.

and somehow, that felt like the realest thing in the world.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

- i could make part two if anyone would want to !!

- wrapped with love, karla ᢉ𐭩

[ghoststurnx]

BETWEEN - M.S.

warnings: smut, munch matt, face riding, intimacy, suggestive language

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

you didn’t think it was possible to be more attracted to matt than you already were—until he grew that beard.

it started with stolen glances. you’d catch yourself staring, mesmerized by how the dark scruff framed his mouth, how it moved when he spoke, how it made him look rugged, untamed… dangerous in the kind of way that made your thighs press together. and when he kissed you with it for the first time—slow and deliberate, the bristles scraping your skin—something inside you lit up and never quite settled again.

you loved it. loved the way it made him look older. but it wasn’t until that night, when things grew hot and breathless between you, that you realized just how much it could drive you wild.

you were already tangled in each other, limbs and lips and breathless laughter giving way to quiet groans and heavy sighs. his hands roamed your body like he’d never get enough, and you clung to him, already drunk on his scent, his heat, the rough sound of his voice when he whispered your name like a secret.

when he kissed down your body—neck, chest, stomach—you felt every graze of his beard like sparks on your skin. but when he settled between your thighs, you tensed, heart racing.

“matt…” you breathed, your fingers hesitating in his hair. “what if i… what if i hurt you?”

he looked up at you then, eyes dark and full of hunger, but gentle too. he didn’t say anything at first—just wrapped his strong arms around your thighs and pulled you forward, down, until you were hovering above his mouth, bare and trembling.

“you couldn’t hurt me if you tried,” he murmured, voice thick and rough with desire. “i want you right here.”

and then—god—then his tongue was on you. hot and slow and devastatingly skilled, parting your folds with a deliberate rhythm that made you gasp. his beard scratched softly against your thighs, the coarse hair an electric contrast to the wet heat of his mouth. at first it startled you—the sensation of his beard tickling and rubbing places that had only ever known soft touches—but it felt so good, so raw and real, that the surprise melted into need.

you couldn’t hold yourself up for long. your hands gripped the headboard, your thighs trembled, and then you sank down onto him with a breathy moan, overwhelmed by the pleasure, the intimacy, the way he devoured you like he needed you to breathe.

the friction of his beard—god, the way it scraped your inner thighs with every motion—shouldn’t have felt that good. it should’ve been too much. but instead it pushed you over the edge of sanity, made your hips rock against his face with a rhythm you couldn’t control. every movement sent a new wave of sensation washing through you, every flick of his tongue drawing you closer to the edge, every scratch of his beard making you grind harder, moan louder.

and matt? he didn’t stop. he pulled you down, deeper onto his mouth, encouraging you, groaning into you as if he was the one unraveling. his hands squeezed your hips like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed you to lose yourself completely—and you did.

you rode his face with abandon, your cries filling the room, hair a mess around your shoulders, eyes shut tight as pleasure surged through you in waves. “matt—oh my god—your beard,” you whimpered, nearly sobbing from how good it felt. “it’s too much—it’s everything—don’t stop—”

and he didn’t. not until your body shook and your thighs clenched and you fell apart with a soundless scream, collapsing against him, spent and overwhelmed and trembling in his arms.

later, when he pulled you close and kissed you—his beard soft now, damp with you, pressed to your flushed cheek—you whispered, breathless and blissed out, “Never shave it.”

he just grinned, kissed you again, and growled in your ear, “i wasn’t planning to.”

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

- i’ve seen a lot writings like this, so i don’t really know who to give credit to.

- wrapped with love, karla ᢉ𐭩

[ghoststurnx]

ur theme is sooooo CUTEEEEEE !!! 🤍🤍🤍

ohhh thank you so muchh sweetheart !! <3

[ghoststurnx]

BETWEEN - M.S.

warnings: smut, munch matt, face riding, intimacy, suggestive language

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

you didn’t think it was possible to be more attracted to matt than you already were—until he grew that beard.

it started with stolen glances. you’d catch yourself staring, mesmerized by how the dark scruff framed his mouth, how it moved when he spoke, how it made him look rugged, untamed… dangerous in the kind of way that made your thighs press together. and when he kissed you with it for the first time—slow and deliberate, the bristles scraping your skin—something inside you lit up and never quite settled again.

you loved it. loved the way it made him look older. but it wasn’t until that night, when things grew hot and breathless between you, that you realized just how much it could drive you wild.

you were already tangled in each other, limbs and lips and breathless laughter giving way to quiet groans and heavy sighs. his hands roamed your body like he’d never get enough, and you clung to him, already drunk on his scent, his heat, the rough sound of his voice when he whispered your name like a secret.

when he kissed down your body—neck, chest, stomach—you felt every graze of his beard like sparks on your skin. but when he settled between your thighs, you tensed, heart racing.

“matt…” you breathed, your fingers hesitating in his hair. “what if i… what if i hurt you?”

he looked up at you then, eyes dark and full of hunger, but gentle too. he didn’t say anything at first—just wrapped his strong arms around your thighs and pulled you forward, down, until you were hovering above his mouth, bare and trembling.

“you couldn’t hurt me if you tried,” he murmured, voice thick and rough with desire. “i want you right here.”

and then—god—then his tongue was on you. hot and slow and devastatingly skilled, parting your folds with a deliberate rhythm that made you gasp. his beard scratched softly against your thighs, the coarse hair an electric contrast to the wet heat of his mouth. at first it startled you—the sensation of his beard tickling and rubbing places that had only ever known soft touches—but it felt so good, so raw and real, that the surprise melted into need.

you couldn’t hold yourself up for long. your hands gripped the headboard, your thighs trembled, and then you sank down onto him with a breathy moan, overwhelmed by the pleasure, the intimacy, the way he devoured you like he needed you to breathe.

the friction of his beard—god, the way it scraped your inner thighs with every motion—shouldn’t have felt that good. it should’ve been too much. but instead it pushed you over the edge of sanity, made your hips rock against his face with a rhythm you couldn’t control. every movement sent a new wave of sensation washing through you, every flick of his tongue drawing you closer to the edge, every scratch of his beard making you grind harder, moan louder.

and matt? he didn’t stop. he pulled you down, deeper onto his mouth, encouraging you, groaning into you as if he was the one unraveling. his hands squeezed your hips like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed you to lose yourself completely—and you did.

you rode his face with abandon, your cries filling the room, hair a mess around your shoulders, eyes shut tight as pleasure surged through you in waves. “matt—oh my god—your beard,” you whimpered, nearly sobbing from how good it felt. “it’s too much—it’s everything—don’t stop—”

and he didn’t. not until your body shook and your thighs clenched and you fell apart with a soundless scream, collapsing against him, spent and overwhelmed and trembling in his arms.

later, when he pulled you close and kissed you—his beard soft now, damp with you, pressed to your flushed cheek—you whispered, breathless and blissed out, “Never shave it.”

he just grinned, kissed you again, and growled in your ear, “i wasn’t planning to.”

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

- i’ve seen a lot writings like this, so i don’t really know who to give credit to.

- wrapped with love, karla ᢉ𐭩

[ghoststurnx]

your writing is so good omg

thank you so much !! mwah 🤍

[ghoststurnx]

CAN'T GET ENOUGH - M.S.

warnings: smut, munch matt, kissing, intimacy, touching

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

the room was quiet, dim, the kind of calm that settles deep into your bones after everything’s been given—bodies spent, hearts soft, skin flushed with the warmth of something real. you were lying there under the blanket, still catching your breath, your limbs loose and heavy from the high you’d just ridden out together.

matt was beside you—or rather, on you, half-sprawled across your body like he couldn’t bear to not be touching you. his arm rested over your stomach, face pressed against your chest, lips dragging slow, sleepy kisses along your skin.

“you okay?” you murmured, hand in his hair.

“yeah,” he whispered, voice low and wrecked. “more than okay.”

but then he shifted—not far, just enough to kiss lower. first your stomach. then just below your navel. and then a little lower, his breath warm against your skin.

“matt,” you said softly, a lazy warning in your voice.

“i know,” he whispered, kissing just above the waistband of the blanket. “you’re tired. i just…” His lips brushed lower. “i need a minute with you. here.”

and before you could say anything else, he was nudging the blanket down slowly, reverently—revealing your bare hips, the soft heat of your still-sensitive core. he kissed the inside of your thigh first, slow and gentle, like he was trying to memorize you. not rushed. not demanding.

just… needing.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured. “so soft. so open.”

he kissed your folds next—a warm, slow press of lips, his tongue just barely peeking out to taste you, to worship you. it wasn’t about getting you off. not now. this was different. deeper. his mouth moved like a whisper, just wanting to be there, to stay connected, to keep loving you the only way he knew how when words weren’t enough.

you sighed, hips twitching from the sensitivity, and he paused, his hand gently holding your thigh.

“too much?” he asked, voice quiet.

“no,” you whispered. “just… don’t stop.”

he nodded, kissed you again—soft, slow, reverent. like a prayer.

you lay there, still floating, legs parted slightly for him, chest rising and falling, your fingers back in his hair while he buried himself between your thighs. not for heat. not for sex. just love—drawn out and tender, his mouth reminding you that even after everything, he still needed more of you.

and you let him take it.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

- wrapped with love, karla ᢉ𐭩

- how i love munch matt

[ghoststurnx]

your theme is the cutest :))) 💓

thank you so much !! im glad you like it ! 💕

[ghoststurnx]

IN YOUR ARMS - C.S.

warnings: titty kissing, intimacy, touching, suggestive language (pet names)

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

it had been a long, draining day—one of those days where chris didn’t even bother texting “on my way” before heading home. he just drove in silence, hoodie sleeves pushed up, fingers sore from folding, taping, lifting box after box of fresh love merch. hoodies, shirts, more hoodies—all of it felt endless. good for business, sure. but his body? shot. his brain? toast.

when he finally walked through the door, he didn’t say much—just gave you a tired look and a weak smile, the kind that said, i made it… but barely.

you were already in bed when he shuffled into the room, blanket pulled up, lights low, everything soft and quiet. he stood at the foot of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck with a groan.

“babe…” he muttered, voice rough. “take your shirt off.”

you raised a brow, half amused, half expecting it. “seriously?”

chris nodded as he climbed into bed beside you, already reaching for the hem of the blanket. “please,” he said, stretching out with a dramatic sigh. “i’ve been on my feet for ten hours straight. my only request—boob pillow. that’s all i want.”

you laughed, but peeled your shirt off anyway, tossing it to the side. “you’re unbelievable.”

“yeah,” he murmured, already sliding into position. “unbelievably smart.”

he laid his head on your bare chest like it was the only place he could truly rest, his whole body relaxing with the kind of exhale that came from finally being home. one arm draped across your waist, the other tucked beneath him. his cheek pressed against your skin, lips brushing along the soft swell of you, leaving the occasional slow, sleepy kiss.

“god, you’re warm,” he mumbled. “i swear, your boobs have built-in heating. why don’t people talk about that more?”

you rolled your eyes, fingers carding through his messy hair. “because most people don’t use them as a recharge station.”

“they should,” he replied, mouth moving lazily against your chest, leaving one gentle, lazy suck like he couldn’t help himself. “this is the secret to a good life. good merch, good woman, great tits.”

you snorted, and he smiled against your skin—a dopey, half-asleep grin.

“i love you,” he murmured after a beat, then added with a sleepy smirk, “and your tits. in equal measure. probably.”

“probably?” you teased.

chris shrugged, already halfway to sleep. “ask me tomorrow. i might love them even more after a nap.”

and just like that, he was still—face tucked into the softest part of you, breath evening out, warmth radiating from under the blanket, his body heavy with comfort. all that hustle, all that work… and here he was, undone by something as simple as skin and closeness.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

- wrapped with love, karla ᢉ𐭩

- first post !!

- i can’t find the person who made blurb like this ! so please let me know if you find a work like this :) thank you.