cocosweetie

[cocosweetie]

Rafe taking bunny out for dinner for one of his business meetings and all his colleagues are like obsessed with how much of a sweetie she is

rafe hand rests on the small of her back as they all step into the country club’s dining room, his zegna suit crisp, and her dress cream and lacy and far too delicate. she clutches her tiny clutch like it’s holy, her nails a pale bunny pink, her perfume sweet and powdery like baby’s breath.

“evenin’, gentlemen,” rafe says, all slow southern charm, tugging her a little closer as they approach the long table of men in navy jackets and ties.

their eyes immediately flick to her.

“this your wife?” one asks, blinking like he’s seen a doll.

rafe doesn’t answer right away, at first he just glances down at her. she’s beaming, all shy, doing that soft bunny smile with her lipgloss sparkling under the chandelier light. then turns back to the man with a smirk like hell yeah, she is.

“sure is.”

they’re all polite at first, “you’re even prettier than your pictures,” “how do you put up with this one?”…. but it’s obvious. they’re all enchanted. she doesn’t talk much, just giggles and twirls her straw in her grapefruit lemonade (that rafe ordered for her, of course), but every time she laughs at one of his jokes or tilts her head like she’s listening so carefully, they look at him like “you lucky bastard”.

“she’s just—so well-behaved,” one whispers to another when she excuses herself to the powder room.

“yeah man, mine would’ve been on her phone the whole damn time.”

rafe hears it and smirks, sipping his bourbon slowly.

when she comes back, he stands, pulls her chair out for her, then leans close just to whisper “you’re makin’ ‘em all jealous, bunny.”

and she giggles, blushing a little. “why?”

he kisses her cheek, murmurs against her skin, “‘cause you’re perfect.”

[cocosweetie]

https://www.tumblr.com/sturniphone/787181037651460096/i-feel-like-bunny-would-have-a-slipper-collection

bunny def has those bunny slippers that the ears go up every time u step and matt finds it so adorable especially when she walks into his office in the morning all tired and still in her pajamas

aww 😫

yes she totally does !! big fluffy white ones with pink ears that pop up when she steps… it’s honestly the best part of matt’s morning. she’ll shuffle into his office with messy hair and sleep still in her eyes, clutching her plushie and pouting because she’s cold or tired. matt barely looks up from his laptop before grinning all soft like, ❝morning, bun.❞ and other times when she huffs and stomps away (ears flopping dramatically with each step), he actually giggles to himself. like full grown man, CEO, giggling because his sleepy girl is grumpy and too cute to handle.

[cocosweetie]

✿ — sweetener . . . clawd!chris

in which . . . chris has the worst day imaginable, the full moon is messing with his head, and the only thing that calms the storm is getting on his knees for you.

warnings . . . smut , oral (f receiving) , kinda sub!chris , that’s it really

𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑹 𝙒𝙍𝙄𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙈𝘼𝙍𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙉 𝙁𝙄𝘾 #5

he doesn’t text you.

no “on my way,” no “today sucked,” no “save me some of that lip balm you use!” (which is a text you get a lot from him) just radio silence all afternoon—until the sound of your dorm door unlocking makes you glance up from where you’re standing against the wall.

he steps inside without a word. no shoes, no greeting. just drops his bag somewhere by the door and heads straight for you, dragging his hoodie off by the neck and letting it fall to the floor. his hair’s a mess, eyes heavy and shoulders tight like he’s been carrying every ounce of his stress on them all day.

you don’t approach him right away, you just watch him—watch the way he moves like his body doesn’t feel like his, like it’s running on fumes. there’s something desperate in his walk. not angry. not dramatic. just quiet. like he’s come here for one very specific reason and there’s nothing in him left to say about it.

you shift a little, standing up straighter against the wall. “hey,” you say, voice soft, “bad day?”

he nods once, still not meeting your eyes.

he makes it across the room, and the second he’s close enough, you reach up to brush your fingers through his loose curls. it’s slow and gentle, and you expect him to fall forward into your touch like he usually does. but he doesn’t.

he sinks to his knees.

his hands come up to your thighs, and his head follows, resting there like it’s the only place he wants to be. you feel him exhale deeply. a long, shuddering breath that makes your chest ache. he doesn’t even try to say anything—just noses into the soft skin like he’s trying to melt into it.

your fingers slip into his hair again, and this time, he does lean into it.

“talk to me,” you murmur.

he shakes his head. “don’t wanna talk.”

you sigh and run your nails lightly across his scalp.

“everything just too much?”

another nod.

“and tomorrow’s the full moon,” you say softly, more a statement than a question. you feel him tense just barely, like the mention of it makes everything inside him claw a little harder. you knew chris’s brain went crazy when a full moon was nearing. it sucked.

“yeah,” he mutters. “feels like i can’t breathe.”

your heart clenches. your poor boy.

you shift a little more, letting your legs fall open slightly as he presses closer, arms now wrapped around your thighs, face buried against your skin like he’s been starved of touch all day.

“you came straight here,” you whisper. “didn’t even say hi.”

’’cause i needed you,” he breathes. “needed this. please.”

you don’t tease. you just nod, stroking his hair back, fingers curling around the strands he always lets you tug on when he’s like this.

“okay,” you murmur. “you’ve got me. i’m right here.”

his grip tightens like he’s scared you’ll pull away. like he needs this more than air. and when he looks up at you—lips parted, flushed, desperate—he finally meets your eyes.

“lemme stay here,” he says, voice hoarse. “just…let me.”

you lean back against the wall, opening your legs wider, and he follows without hesitation, hands already trailing up your thighs.

you feel the warm press of his mouth on your inner thighs, the way he sighs when he kisses your skin, the way his fingers dig in like he’ll never have anything else to hold onto. he’s shaking slightly. from frustration, from need, from the sheer exhaustion of feeling too much all day and having no release.

your hand finds the back of his neck, guiding him closer, and his breath stutters.

he kisses higher. slower. his breath hot and uneven. one hand coming to grip your waist, the other bracing lightly against the wall beside your hip.

you smile just a little, voice soft and warm. “this what you needed, baby?”

he moans, low and wrecked, and nods against your skin.

you hum. “thought so.”

your back presses fully against the wall now, his shoulders sliding between your thighs like he belongs there—and he does. his head peeps beneath your skirt, lips hovering right where you want him, and he looks up one last time for permission, hands already trembling with how tightly he’s holding on.

you nod once.

chris presses a hot kiss to your clothed clit, then laps at your folds through your panties. he hooks his fingers under the waistband of them, pulling them down but leaving your skirt in it’s place. you’re so, so fucking pretty.

he buries his face between your plush thighs, inhaling deeply before his tongue darts out to lick a flat stripe up your drooling slit. your fingers tighten in his hair, causing him to groan into your cunt. words could never ever describe how much he loved this.

being on his knees for you, with his head between your legs. this sure was making his shitty day a hell of a lot better.

his grip tightens on your waist, like you’ll fade away if he loosens it even a little. he eats you messily, trying not to let his sharp canines get in the way. he locks his lips around your puffy clit, sucking on it hungrily.

he reaches his thumbs up to your slick folds, parting them so that his tongue can explore anywhere he desires.

your head falls back with a soft cry, thudding gently against the wall. your reaction encourages chris even more. your thighs clench around his head, a feeling he loves more than anything.

“chris, baby—“ before another word can slip out, his lips find your sensitive, throbbing clit again, the wet muscle moving in slow circles against it. a moan escapes your lips, hips subconsciously rolling into his face.

chris buries his face further into your soaking heat, groaning, "you're all i wanted. all day. fuck."

and you knew that. anytime there’s a full moon nearing, all he craves is you. your taste. your scent. your proximity. your existence.

he devours you, slurping up your juices and lapping at your heat. his thumb finds your clit momentarily, making your hips twitch. he trails his hand closer to your weeping entrance, slipping his index finger inside of you. you gasp at the sudden intrusion, fingers tightening in his unruly hair.

he slips his middle finger into you as well, the squelching sound like music to his ears. "you make me feel so—so good, i'm—fuck—“ you stumble over your words. you’ve always been the dominant one in this relationship, chris being your puppy. literally. but, he loves knowing he can make you feel this way, despite knowing you’re in charge.

and he doesn’t say it out loud—but deep down, chris loves knowing you’ll always be the sweetener to his bitter days. when a full moon creeps closer and everything inside him starts to ache, it’s you he turns to. soft hands, softer voice, and the only thing in this world that ever really calms the storm. right now, he’s buried between your thighs, mouthing at his favorite meal like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth, and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

author’s note . . . HI sorry this is really short, not proofread, and a little late! oopsie..after this there’s gonna be 3 matt fics in a row…im sorry chris girls but i have to feed my matt girl instincts

🏷️ : @sturniolo04 @admeliora94 @alexturnersgooch @strnilolover @snuffbut @frattboychris @marrykisskilled @mqttittude @purpledragon222 @aubsloveschris @paisleyy22 @emely9274 @oliviasthatgirl @conspiracy-ash @matthewsroses @pasteldreams @matts-wife @courta13 @sugarraez @adorechris @elenayzxsturn @mattybsgroupie @oopsiedaisydeer @bluestriips @grace-sturnz @sturnboos @owenstar @ribbonlovergirl @tweetybaird @tezzzzzzzz @vanteguccir @bernardmatthews @weirdothatwrites @thighs4evan @lm-a-mirrorball @iluvchr1s @sturnslux3 @cutseylady @iconiccolo @sturnsblogs

© cayleeuhithinknott

[cocosweetie]

— ᥫ᭡ say so . . . chris and matt sturniolo

where . . . Chris and Matt both spot you at an influencer party they'd gone to, and now they need to see who can bag you for the night. But what happens when, to their surprise, you want them both?

contains . . . smut, build-up to the smut, threesome (absolutely ZERO incest), Eiffel Tower position, oral (m!receiving), unprotected p in v, dirty talk, degrading and praising, heavy chratt bickering

credits to @delilahsturniolo for the marathon concept

HOT PINK WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #5

It was one of those nights in L.A. — every room lit by ring lights and camera flashes, every corner filled with people who lived for the scroll, swipe, and algorithm.

The lights at the party were dim and dreamlike, flickering between pink and gold. The pool out back shimmered beneath strings of fairy lights, dotted with floating roses that looked like someone’s aesthetic choice purely for Instagram. Voices blended into an intoxicating hum of flirtation, clout-chasing, and alcohol-fueled egos.

Having already downed a few drinks and chatted up multiple people, Matt and Chris had been scanning the party for some real fun to get their hands on.

That was when they spotted you.

You were standing by the glass railing, drink in hand, watching the crowd like a cat in a room full of mice. You looked like you didn’t belong — but in the best way. Like the party was orbiting you, not the other way around. Eyes that held secrets. A smile that could break careers. Legs for days.

Matt nudged Chris with his elbow, low and sharp. “There. The one by the railing.”

Chris followed his gaze, and his eyes instantly lit with that telltale look — like a kid eyeing a locked candy store. “Yeah,” he said slowly, almost reverently. “She’s… wow.”

“I’m going over.”

“You? I don’t think so. You’ll scare her off with your fake-deep ‘I do yoga and listen to The Weeknd on vinyl’ bullshit.”

“At least I don’t wear the same cologne as every crypto bro in this zip code.” Matt adjusted his shirt, the top three buttons undone, chest lightly glistening under the party lights. “Let’s see who she actually wants.”

Chris scoffed, fixing his hat on his head before smirking and following his brother, the both of them approaching like wolves in heat wearing designer sneakers.

Chris got to you first, his hand landing gently on the railing beside yours as he leaned in close, just enough for you to catch his cologne — clean, spicy, intentional. “So tell me something,” he said with a smooth, tilted grin, “are you always the most interesting person in the room, or is tonight special?”

You turned your head slowly, meeting his eyes with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Is that your opener?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

Before you could answer, Matt appeared on your other side like a scene change. He handed you a drink—something pale pink and artfully garnished. “She already has a drink,” Chris muttered even as you took the glass from him.

“This one actually tastes good,” Matt said with a wink. “Trust me.”

You took a sip out of sheer curiosity. He wasn’t wrong.

You raised an eyebrow as you took the drink away from your lips, looking between the both of them, curious as to what exactly had pulled them both over to you. “And you two are…?”

“Brothers,” they said at the same time. Then immediately glared at each other.

“Twins?” you asked.

“Triplets,” Chris corrected.

“Our brother, Nick, bailed on us to hang out with a girl in an outfit made entirely of glitter,” Matt added.

Ah, Tara, you thought, snickering and shaking your head as you took another drink, not noticing how they both looked over you and gave challenging glares once more.

Chris tried the classic charm offensive — eye contact that lingered too long, compliments that felt tailored just for you. “You’ve got this vibe,” he said, watching you closely, “like you know you’re hot, but you’re not annoying about it. It's refreshing.”

Matt countered by leaning into humor and empathy. “Ignore him. He probably says that to any girl who orders oat milk at Starbucks.”

Chris rolled his eyes before scoffing. “You fuckin' order oat milk at Starbucks, dumbass.”

You laughed, warm and unfiltered. They both visibly lit up like they’d won something. And now the game was far from over.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

They pulled out every trick in the book throughout the night.

Chris took you to the dance floor, guiding you with one hand on the small of your back, showing off the rhythm he usually showed off in tiktok videos. “I could do this all night,” he murmured in your ear as the beat dropped. You felt his confidence like static against your skin, making your laugh and just feel yourself as you swayed your body to the music with him.

Matt waited for his moment and found it when you took a break, lounging on a cushioned daybed near the pool. He sat beside you, just close enough to graze your leg. “You know,” he said, voice lower now, more serious, “most of the people here only care about how many followers you have. But I was watching the way you look at people. You see through them. That’s rare.”

Chris walked out to join the two of you, more drinks in his hands as he gave you a toothy grin, adding onto what Matt had said. "Yeah, it's like you're out of this damn world,"

You tilted your head at them both, scoffing softly. “You guys rehearsed these lines or something?”

“Absolutely not,” they both said at the same time.

Which made you laugh again. Damn them. They were too good at this.

As you all drank the shots of expensive tequila Chris had got, he told a story about them that had you nearly spitting out your drink laughing, Matt unable to not snicker along with it as well, the environment warm and thick.

By now, the tension between them towards you was crackling like the edge of a storm.

“So,” Matt said, tapping his glass, glancing over it at you as if he wasn't losing his mind hoping that you'd pick him, “who’s winning?”

You looked at both of them, smile teasing.

Chris leaned in, smug. “Come on, we both know you’ve already picked.”

You bit your lip, leaned back into the cushions, stretched your legs like a queen waiting for her court to bow. “Actually…”

Their eyes locked on you, anticipation tight in their jaws.

“…I was thinking maybe I don’t have to choose.”

Silence. Then a synchronized blink.

Chris was the first to speak. “You’re joking.”

Matt tilted his head. “Wait. Are you serious?”

You just smiled, sultry and slow. “Why pick one when I can have both?”

Their smugness melted into something else—surprise, intrigue, hunger.

“Damn...” Chris said finally, breaking into a crooked grin. “I like you.”

Matt laughed, a little breathless. “Dangerous.”

You smirked at their reactions before you stood, glancing over your shoulder to look down at both of them, raising an eyebrow. “Are you coming, or do I need to find someone else to entertain me?”

They scrambled up like excited puppies, speechless, for once outmatched.

And you? You walked ahead, knowing they’d follow.

Because they were players. But tonight? You were the game.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The bass thudded through the marble floors of the house like a heartbeat too fast from too much tequila and attention, thankfully making noise to cover up the obscene sounds coming from the bathroom you, Chris, and Matt snuck in to finally have some fun.

"Fuuuuck—" Chris groaned out as his grip tightened around the makeshift ponytail he'd made for your hair in his hand, looking down and watching the way you took his cock in your mouth like it was meant to be there.

Your nails dug into his thighs as you gripped them to hold yourself steady, your eyes glossy and fluttering a bit as you looked up at him, being met with that smirking grin on his lips.

"Look like such a pretty fuckin' slut for us, huh Matt?" Chris cooed to you, reminding your of the deliciously thick cock that was Matt's, sliding in and out of your sopping wet pussy from behind.

"Shit— Yeah she does.." He breathily responded, but his eyes stayed trained on how his cock disappeared into your cunt before he'd pull back and repeat, your warm, gooey walls making him bite his bottom lip hard, especially as you clenched around him each time Chris got a little rough with your mouth.

You moaned around Chris's cock as you felt Matt's hands on you, one gripping your hip tightly and the other sliding up your arched back underneath your scrunched up dress around your waist, your tits freed from your earlier make out sesh with Chris as Matt had been busy getting off your panties.

"Goddamn baby, you're just loving this, aren't you?" Chris groaned, his free hand holding his shirt up to his torso so that he had a clearer view of you. He chuckled at your slurred "mhmm" around his cock, your responses muffled by your full mouth.

Chris couldn't help as he gripped your hair harder, thrusting his cock a bit more into your mouth, making small gags and noises spill from you as you let him fuck your mouth, his groans mixing into the noises that filled this dimly lit bathroom.

"Fuckin' hell— y' gonna make me cum, baby—" Chris panted, earning a chuckle from Matt for not holding out as long as he was, but Chris ignored him as you gripped his thighs harder, his other hand nearly tearing his shirt with how hard he was holding it. His breathing became shaky, his legs trembling a bit as his hips sputtered against your mouth.

"I'm gonna— Gonna cum— Holy fuuuuck—" Chris gasped out, groaning loudly as you felt his cock twitch against your tongue before pumping his thick, warm cum down your throat, making tears fall down your already mascara stained cheeks, but you held out, especially with his hand keeping your head in place.

"Told you I'd last longer," Matt snickered, though groaning at the way your pussy clenched around his cock due to you swallowing Chris's sperm, missing the way Chris flipped him off.

"You try fuckin' her mouth next time, then we'll see if you're tough shit," Chris snipped back, looking down at you as he pulled his cock from your mouth, smirking at how your tongue licked up the rest of his residing cum on your lips, before helping you stand up just a bit.

"Fuck— Next time? You hear that, ma?" Matt breathily asked, watching the way you put your hands on Chris's chest to keep you upright before turning your head to look back at him, your pink, glossy lips parted as you face already looked fucked out, making him groan. "You wanna see us again?"

You nodded before moaning as Matt started thrusting harder, deeper into your cunt, suddenly feeling as Chris grasped your jaw and turned your face back to him, his lips brushing against yours.

"Good, cause I don't think I'll ever get enough of you," He purred low, earning a slurred giggle from you before your lips met in a messy, passionate kiss, your nails digging into his shirt as Matt hit that perfect spot within you, your moan swallowed into the kiss.

"Jesus, ma— This pussy's fuckin' amazing— Gonna get me addicted to this shit—" Matt groaned, his body leaning forward to press his chest against your back, in turn, making your chest press against Chris's as you continued to make out.

Your eyes rolled back as Chris's tongue slipped into your mouth, tangling with your tongue as you felt like you were getting drunk off of Matt's dick. God, this was fucking heaven.

One of your shaky hands reached back to meet Matt's that still held your hip, gripping it in an attempt to tell him you were close.

"Y' gonna cum, mama? Yeah? This dick that fuckin' good?" Matt cooed, chuckling as Chris pulled from the kiss to glare at him before delving back in to kiss you harder, your moans and whines spilling into his mouth and in between breaths, his hands palming at your tits.

As that burning ecstasy built in your abdomen, you felt as Matt kissed at your shoulder and neck, biting and kissing over the hickies both of them had made during the make out sesh earlier. The sensation of everything felt like too much, Chris's hands kneading your tits, Matt's dick pounding your sweet cunt, both of their mouths on you.

"'M gonna cum ma— Cum with me— Fuck, please cum with me—"

It hardly took much of Matt's begging to make that pleasure snap within you, your back arching hard, your legs shaking, your hands gripping Chris's shirt like a life line, your lips parting from his to let out a loud, gorgeous moan, especially as you felt Matt's hips stutter before pumping your pussy full of his cum, thick spurts painting you gummy walls.

After a few more moments of Matt riding out your highs, he stilled, all three of you panting in near unison, spent and blissed out. Matt chuckled breathlessly at your face, loving the way you looked completely fucked out now.

"Was that good for you, ma?" He asked, earning a nod and a slurred "mhmm" from you before he leaned in to kiss you, soft and deep, before parting, feeling as Chris pressed his lips to your ear, whispering sultrily into it.

"So, who was better?"

You huffed as you rolled your eyes, your voice a bit strained and tired as you answered back. "Both of you were fucking good.."

"Yeah, but I was better, right?" Chris asked like a puppy looking for validation to boost his ego.

"C'mon dude, she was moaning all over my dick," Matt protested.

"Yeah? Well, she was cryin' all over mine."

"That was cause of me."

"Like hell it was! Did you see the way she was drooling on my dick??"

You huffed as they bickered, too tired to tell them to knock it off, just resting your head on Chris's chest and closing your eyes.

Oh you were definitely going to do this again.

☆ : this one's also not proofread, so i'm really sorry if it's bad, i'm so tired chat 😭 I fuckin started my bloodbath this morning and i'm in pain- BUT IM PULLING THROUGH THE BEST I CAN FOR YALL- hope y'all enjoy, mwah <33

taglist 🏷️

[cocosweetie]

— ᥫ᭡ talk dirty . . . chris sturniolo

where . . . Chris dirty talks you into finally sitting on his face and letting him eat you out like he's never before.

contains . . . smut, dirty talk, oral (f!receiving), face sitting/riding, sub!reader, soft dom!chris, praising, pussy drunk!chris

credits to @delilahsturniolo for the marathon concept

HOT PINK WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #7

You’re curled into Chris on his bed, half-watching some movie neither of you are actually paying attention to. His arm’s around your waist, fingertips trailing lazy circles against the skin just under your sleep shirt. There’s a heat there — a warmth that’s been growing, slow and steady, the way it always does when you two are this close for this long.

You shift slightly, and his hand slides higher. Not by much. Just enough to make you aware of it.

“You keep moving like that,” he murmurs near your ear, “and I’m gonna start thinking you’re doing it on purpose.”

You scoff under your breath, smiling, but your cheeks are already warm with blush.

“I’m not doing anything." You respond in a slight mutter.

Chris tilts his head, pressing his lips to your shoulder, his voice low, almost playful in your ear.

“You sure?” he coos. “Because the way your thighs keep squeezing around me is driving me a little crazy.”

You look away, cheeks flooding with heat, and he grins.

“God, I love when you get all shy like that,” he murmurs, voice thick with affection and want. “It’s cute. And really fucking hot.”

His hand dips beneath your shorts, palm resting warm on your upper thigh. You don’t stop him.

“You wanna know what I’ve been thinking about all day?” he asks.

You swallow. You don’t answer.

He chuckles softly. “I’ve been thinking about you...” he begins, voice lower now, lips grazing against your jaw in a teasing manner. “On top of me. Your thighs on either side of my head. Your hands in my hair. Your hips grinding down on my face while I make you fall apart over and over.”

You make a quiet, embarrassed sound — half protested squeak, half embarrassed whimper — and bury your face in the crook of his neck as if to hide away.

“Chrisss..." you whimper against his skin.

“Mhm?” he hums like it’s an innocent question, as if he didn't just paint the hottest, most erotic pictures for you, but the hand on your thigh is anything but.

“You can’t just—say that stuff out of nowhere—" you pout as you move your head from out of his neck to look up at him.

He laughs softly, pressing a kiss to your neck, slow and lingering, making your breath catch in your throat and heat to pool between your thighs, need and demanding for attention.

“Why not? It’s true.” His lips trail up to your ear, voice dropping to a whisper. “You sitting on my face? That’s not even a fantasy anymore, baby. That’s a need.”

You shift again without meaning to, thighs instinctively tightening as you let out another pathetic whimper as you imagine it in your head, and he grins against your skin.

“Yeah… like that,” he whispers. “You’d look so pretty like that. All flushed and trembling, trying not to moan too loud while I hold your hips down and make you take everything I give you.”

Your breath catches. You can feel your heart thudding against your ribs.

“Chris—”

“You’d lose it, wouldn’t you?” he murmurs. “You’d try so hard to stay quiet, but the second I really start eating you out—” he groans softly at the thought, “you’d be shaking. Whimpering. Riding my face because you can’t help it.”

You try to hide your face again, heat crawling all the way down your chest, but he gently tugs your chin so you’re looking at him.

His gaze is soft — but intense. Loving, but burning. His sweet blues, now darkening with lust, meeting your adorable doe eyes, and it was as if he could read right through you, a smirk coming to his lips.

“You want to,” he whispers low and teasingly. “I can tell.”

You open your mouth to argue, but no words come. He kisses you instead — slow and sweet at first, then deeper, tongue sliding against yours like he’s already imagining exactly how you’ll taste, and it pulls a needy mewl from you, your hands grasping at his shirt as you feel your arousal seep through your panties.

When he finally pulls away, his voice is nothing but a whisper against your lips, almost begging if it wasn't for his teasing, low tone. “Let me have you like that, baby. Please... Let me love you like that. Just sit on my face.”

You hesitate, breathless. “…You really want that?” you ask.

His answer is instant, voice thick with desire, nearly groaning at the prospect of you saying yes. “More than anything.”

And after one shaky exhale, your thighs aching from being squeezed together for so long, and the feeling of your soaked panties underneath your shorts, you finally nod. “…Okay.”

His grin is immediate — wicked and boyish all at once, his voice a low coo that makes a shiver rush up your spine. “There’s my girl.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Are you sure about this?"

Your voice was hesitant as you looked down at Chris, thighs pressed together as you sat next to him in his bed with nothing on except for one of his baggy shirts, the movie nothing but background noise for the two of you.

"Baby, I promise, I've never been more sure of something in my entire life," He chuckled, already lying flat on his back, completely prepared for you as he looked up at you with almost excited eyes. "I'm seriously going to lose my mind if you keep making me wait."

You couldn't help a soft giggle before you exhaled quietly, working up you courage as you moved your legs to hook one over his head, your knees pressing into the mattress as you hovered over his face.

"Jesus... look at this fuckin' pussy, ma..." Chris groaned, bringing a hand up to drag his finger through your already drooling folds, making a soft gasp leave your lips as your hands held the hem of your shirt up a bit for him.

"I-is this ok?" You asked as blush covered your cheeks already, whimpering at the way his hands palmed over your thick thighs, before feeling him slowly hook his arms under them.

"Yeah... but it'd be even better if you actually sat on my face, baby," He cooed playfully, making a moan slip from your lips as he leaned up, running his tongue along your slit in a slow, savoring lick.  "Y' making me strain my neck just to taste you."

"But what if..." You trailed off.

"What if what?" Chris asked, his blue eyes peaking up at you from underneath as you swallowed a lump in your throat.

"What if I'm too heavy for you..?" You couldn't help but meekly whimper out, your nerves taking over you, but as you heard Chris huff out a chuckle, you suddenly felt his arms tugging you down, a gasp leaving your lips as he held you down against his face.

"C–chris!" You yelped, blush burning the tips of your ears before a pleasurable moan fell from your lips at him lapping at your pussy already, groaning against your folds as he held you in place, leaving you unable to lift yourself up.

"Just relax, baby," he murmurs against your slick folds, his hot breath making you shiver. "Let me take care of you. I want to taste every inch of this sweet little pussy."

You gasp as he begins to eat you out like it's his last meal, your back arching as jolts of pleasure course through you, moans and whimpers spilling from your lips.

Your thighs quake and tremble, the muscles taut with tension as you fight the urge to close them around his head, but he holds you steady, not letting you squirm away from the intense sensations.

Chris groans in approval as he laps at your dripping arousal, relishing your unique taste, a taste he could get addicted to without even trying.

"Fuck, you taste incredible," he growls against your cunt, the vibrations of his deep voice sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. His tongue delves deeper, probing your entrance whilst you feel one of his hands move, his thumb rubbing firm circles against your sensitive clit.

You toss your head back, your hair falling in disarray as you moan wantonly above him, whining as one hand shoots up to grip the headboard of his bed harshly to help steady yourself.

"C–chris! Mmm— Oh god, yes!" you mewl, your hips bucking instinctively against his face, getting lost in the pleasure and forgetting about your previous worries. He holds you firmly in place, his strong hand kneading the plush of your thigh as he devours your pussy with unrestrained hunger.

"D–don't stop, please don't stop!" You begged him, pleasure building rapidly as he works your pussy like never before, his thumb keeping that mind numbing rhythm whilst his tongue fucks into your clenching hole, making your mind fuzzy as that familiar knot pulls tighter and tighter within you.

And the moment he groans against your pussy, as if telling you to cum for him, you feel your orgasm hit you like a train, gasping out as you moan his name loud, back arching, hands gripping tight, and eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy.

Your hips ground against his mouth as you gushed all over his tongue, whines and whimpers leaving you as you rode out your high, before you finally slowed your movements, panting as you trembled above Chris until you finally came to.

"S-shit— 'M sorry—" You whimpered, lifting yourself up and off of his face, blushing at the sight of him, cheeks pink, mouth and chin covered in your juices, his eyes full of pure bliss as he looked up at you, chuckling as he looked almost equally as fucked out as you.

"Do.. do you want me to help you out now?" You asked sweetly, before watching as his cheeks reddened, a huffed out, almost embarrassed chuckle leaving his lips.

"Well, uh— I don't think you need to, baby—" He murmured, but as you gave him a confused face, you watched as his eyes glanced down, yours following his gaze before you gasped softly, seeing the big wet stain on his boxers, showing that he'd cum purely just from eating you out.

Your eyes met his again, a beat of a moment before the two of you giggled and chuckled, you leaning down to press a sweet kiss to his lips, whimpering softly at the taste of you on him before he whispered against your lips, his voice sounding like he was completely drunk from your pussy, and it made newfound arousal shoot through your body once more.

"Can we please do that again?"

☆ : that man is a muncher 4 LIFE, i just know it man...i can feel it in my nuggets (i have a coin slot 😔) idk if i like this one much— loved doing the dirty talking part but i feel like I flopped with the actual smut part, im sorry 😭 hope you guys still enjoy tho!!

taglist 🏷️

[cocosweetie]

ˇ⋆ ╱ ‧ ˚ ꪆ dealer!chris && bambi

❛ how bambi and chris met ❜

It wasn’t supposed to be one of those nights. Just a drop, maybe a laugh, and out before things got messy. But the second Chris walked into that house, he felt it—like static under his skin, something strange humming in the air. His hoodie was up, eyes sharp, voice low as he passed folded bills and tiny baggies in exchange for nods and quick cash. It was routine. Boring. But then there was you.

You didn’t fit. Not with the beer-soaked carpet or the crush of bodies pressing together in dim light. You were this soft, sugary thing in the middle of it all, like a cupcake in a war zone. Little pink skirt swishing when you moved, that too-tight top glittering like fairy dust. Lip gloss too shiny to be real. A tiny ribbon tied in your hair. Like you wandered in from some storybook. All Chris thought was, That's the most beautiful girl in the entire world.

You wandered. soft, slow, like you were searching for something that maybe didn’t exist. something only you would recognise when you saw it. He blinked, and you were gone. He doesn’t even remember wrapping the deal. doesn’t remember who handed him the money. only remembers stumbling through the porch door twenty minutes later, heart doing something weird in his chest—and there you were. sitting on the front steps with a fraying pink bunny tucked beneath your chin like it could guard you from the whole world. your knees drawn up, mascara smudged a little at the corners, ribbon slipping down your shoulder.

He stops in the doorway. swears under his breath. thinks, ❝Fuck, it’s her.❞ Then he goes to you, slow and careful, like if he moves too fast, you’ll disappear again. sinks down beside you and nudges your knee with his. ❝You okay, kid?❞

His first thought was, Who the fuck brings a stuffed animal to a house party? But more than that—why did it make his chest ache to see you like that? curled up, soft and quiet, blinking at him like a lost doll.

You nod, but your lip’s already trembling, and you clutch that bunny tighter like he’s the only one who understands. Chris sees it. sees the way your fingers press into the fur. the way your eyes dart like you’re scared to cry. So he smiles softly and crookedly and teases just enough to make you pout.

❝What’s his name?❞ He asks, nodding at the bunny. ❝Bunny,❞ you whisper. He huffs a laugh. ❝solid. real original.❞ You swat at him, pouting deepening, and something about the way you look at him, all pink and frustrated and trying so hard not to be soft, ruins him. Next thing he knows, you’re in his lap after some easy convincing from him because you said you were cold out here, and you guess he looked nice, so then you ended up on someone’s faded couch. your knees tucked under you, your cheek against his chest, whispering things to both him and Bunny like they’re both real. like they both matter.

❝He’s cold,❞ you say into his hoodie, voice all small and muffled. You’re curled up like you’re trying to disappear, your bunny plushie squished between you both, ears bent awkwardly under your chin. Chris doesn’t blink. just tugs the fabric tighter around your shoulders like it’s instinct.

❝Then stay right here, yeah? We’ll keep him warm.❞ You do. and not just because he told you to. because it feels safe here, tucked against his chest, the bunny cradled like a third heartbeat between you. Hours pass. People stumble in and out, the party fading into background noise, but Chris never moves. just sits there with you in his lap, hand slow on your back, eyes watching the world so you don’t have to.

His thumb brushes over Bunny’s frayed bow. ❝He’s been with me since I was little.❞ Your voice cracks a little. ❝He gets scared if I leave him behind.❞ And by this, Chris figured you secretly meant you got scared, not bunny. Chris nods like it makes perfect sense, like it’s the most reasonable thing he’s ever heard. ❝Yeah, well. It's not happening on my watch. No one’s leaving anyone behind tonight.❞

Your breath slows the longer he holds you. Bunny’s worn fur is warm now, pressed between your cheek and his chest, his tiny button nose peeking out from under your jaw. Chris doesn’t even realise when his lips brush your forehead. It just happens. soft and slow.

He still doesn’t know your name. doesn’t know what you’re doing at this party or why your eyes looked so far away when he first saw you. But he knows one thing. Whatever it is you’re running from? He wants to be the place you land. And when you finally drift off, bunny snug and safe, his arm holding you close, Chris leans down and whispers, ❝Don’t worry. I got you.❞

ꪮꫀ lola talks . . . do we like then name of the taglist?

── ʚ chris's clients .ᐟ . . . @chrepsi ⸝⸝ @ph3ebssturniolo ⸝⸝ @sturnsxbbyeilish ⸝⸝ @j21l91 ⸝⸝ @pip4444chris ⸝⸝ @mattslutt ⸝⸝ @sophand4n4 ⸝⸝ @mattscoquette ⸝⸝ @mi-co-uk ⸝⸝ @tezzzzzzzz ⸝⸝ @emely9274 ⸝⸝ @oopsiedaisydeer ⸝⸝ @theowensturniolo ⸝⸝ @httpssturns ⸝⸝ @matthewsroses ⸝⸝ @bugs-tags ⸝⸝ @mattswrinkleton ⸝⸝ @victorious8 ⸝⸝ @h3arts4nat ⸝⸝ @jadedjewelswrld-0807 ⸝⸝ @madz146 ⸝⸝ @ifwdominicfike ⸝⸝ @rriverscuomo ⸝⸝ @ivysturnss ⸝⸝ @brianaluvschris @mattsgold ⸝⸝ @sturniolotoast ⸝⸝ @ariieeesworld ⸝⸝ @angelicameron ⸝⸝ @blahbel668 ⸝⸝

theme inspo from @/angvl3tears (with permission.)

⌗ © sturniphone

[cocosweetie]

Omg DILF!RAFE and MILF!READER’s recent post was so good, imma need you to consider maybe making one where they’re on vacation and some younger guys try flirting with her, thinking she’s around their age (20’s) and Rafe stepping in. UGH you write beautifully I just can’t

Hi bb!!! Thank you for your ask 🤭💕

+18 -> smut | the two of you steal a night away in Miami. One dinner, one dance, and it all comes rushing back.

𝓭𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: slight physical violence (not toward the reader), coarse language, pet name, unprotected p in v, possessive rafe, rough sex, breeding kink, jealousy, ownership kink, teasing, wet and messy, mentions of drinking, POV shift for smut, + dirty talk.

𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮’𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

Ｎｉｋｋｉ Ｂｅａｃｈ Ｒｅｓｔａｕｒａｎｔ…

Rafe still couldn’t believe you were here. Miami. Same streets, same salt in the air, same stretch of beach where he used to watch you run circles around him with that mouth of yours and those damn cutoff shorts.

It’d been years, decades even. Four kids later. Half a life lived. And somehow, even today, you still had him looking at you like a fucking lovesick idiot.

You’d spent the whole day on the beach, just the two of you. Max and Winnie had the twins, and he hadn’t asked twice. He needed this. Needed you. The sun. You in that tiny black swimsuit, laughing in the surf, making him ache like he hadn’t been married to you for almost twenty years.

Now, the sky was going dark, and you were sitting across from each other in one of those restaurants you loved. Five stars, full white linen, candles flickering. You in that red dress.

He felt like he was twenty all over. Shit, younger than that. His palms were sweating. Ridiculous, really. Just watching you lift that damn glass to your mouth like you hadn’t already ruined him hours ago.

You sat by the window, bathed in the last stretch of sun, skin glowing, hair falling soft around your shoulders. Every time you smiled, it did something to his chest. Like his lungs forgot what they were supposed to do. And when you shifted in your seat, crossed your legs, glanced his way—he couldn’t stop staring. Didn’t even try.

Shit.

His hands dropped to his thighs. He couldn’t get a grip. Not with you looking like that. You were his wife. He had no business feeling this nervous. Your husband. Your safe place. The father of your kids. But here he was—nervous. Damn near vibrating with it.

It felt like your first date. Like if he said the wrong thing, you might just laugh and walk away.

Except you wouldn’t. You were his. He knew that in his bones. Had known it for years. But it didn’t stop the rush of it now—watching you sip that drink, those bare shoulders catching the light.

Whatever he’d ordered, he couldn’t taste it. Could barely remember what they’d ordered.

The sunset was sinking fast behind you. Throwing everything around you into this perfect glow that made his chest ache. He motioned to the waiter, sharp and distracted.

“Rafe? Are you okay?”

“Not upset, baby. Promise… Just gotta do something.” And he meant it, because if he didn’t get you out there on that beach, in that red dress, with that sun sinking behind you—if he didn’t catch this moment, keep it somehow—he was gonna lose his goddamn mind.

But he wasn’t about to tell you that. Not yet. Not until he had you exactly where he wanted you.

You were already giggling by the time he stood, napkin dropping carelessly on the table.

“Rafe,” you laughed, grabbing your clutch. “What’s goin’ on?”

He didn’t answer—just took your hand, lacing your fingers tight, tugging you gently toward the door. The host caught his eye, nodded with a knowing smile. Rafe hardly noticed. His pulse was still going—loud in his ears, steady, but off somehow.

The air outside hit different. The air had cooled. Still salty, but heavier now—like something was shifting, even if he couldn’t name it.

The sky was already losing color. That soft pink sinking into gray-blue in patches, uneven and fast.

Down near the water, two people walked the edge of the tide, saying nothing. Just dragging the moment out, maybe. Or maybe they weren’t ready to leave yet.

“Rafe,” you said again, each breath coming shallow, chasing the last, laughing even as you kicked off your heels onto the sand. “You’re acting like—” But you cut off when he let go of your hand and stepped back a few feet and lifted his phone. “Oh my God,” you gasped, cheeks warming up as you realized what he was doing. “Baby—”

“None of that, pretty,” he said, thumb hovering over the screen. “C’mon now. Don’t start.” His voice caught a little, that shaky edge of pure want bleeding through. “You look like a goddamn dream right now. Let me have it.”

You covered your mouth, blushing harder, shaking your head in the softest, sweetest way. But it only took you a second. Because he was looking at you like that—like you hung the damn sun yourself—and his voice was full of it, that heat that never failed to melt you straight through.

“Please, baby,” he said again, softer this time. “Need this. Just you. Right here, alright?”

And that was it. Your hands dropped and your smile bloomed as you started to pose—light at first, playful, laughing between shots as the wind caught your hair and the hem of your red dress.

Rafe could barely breathe, thumb snapping the shutter as fast as he could, desperate to catch every second.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “You don’t even know…”

But you caught the way he was looking—eyes dark, mouth parted just a little—and your smile shifted, just a touch. A tilt of your head. A sway of your hips. A glance through your lashes that had heat licking straight through his veins.

“Fuck, baby… There she is—” Rafe’s grin hit slow and crooked, heat sparking all the way to his fingertips. "How are you so perfect?”

Every pose, each shift of your hips, and glance through your lashes, you knew exactly what you were doing, and your husband was helpless to it.

“One with you too, baby,” you smiled, extending a hand. His breath caught. He tried to play it cool, huffing a soft laugh.

“Yeah? Yeah, of course.” He cleared his throat, stepping toward you, phone in hand, pretending like this wasn’t unraveling him by the second.

You reached for him, fingers curling in his shirt to pull him in beside you. The camera clicked, barely. You turned before the shutter had even finished, like it didn’t matter, like you already knew what came next. Your lips brushed his jaw—light, quick, but it stopped him cold.

He didn’t think. Just reacted. Mouth on yours before either of you had a chance to speak. He barely even noticed the phone—just shoved it in his pocket, hands already back on you, sliding down to your waist, gripping like he didn’t want to risk letting go.

Everything else blurred. The ocean. The quiet voices nearby. All of it faded the second your lips touched his. There was no restaurant, no phone, no years between you. Just this. Just you, pressed up against his chest, warm and breathless and smiling into his skin like nothing had changed. And maybe it hadn’t. Maybe after everything, you were still those same two kids who couldn’t go five minutes without needing each other.

He kissed you like he meant it—like if he held on tight enough, the world might stop right here.

Ｂａｉａ Ｂｅａｃｈ Ｃｌｕｂ Ｍｉａｍｉ…

The air changed the second you left the beach—hot and heavy, thick with sweat and rum. It clung to him, soaked into his skin. Music was already pounding through busted speakers, something old, too loud, and then there was you, walking in like the night was yours.

You didn’t wait. As soon as the bass hit, you took his hand and pulled him in, laughing, already moving, your body catching the rhythm like it was built into you.

Rafe just stood there for a second, watching. Throat dry.

He wasn’t a dancer. Never had been. But for you? For this—this one damn night that felt like college all over again—he’d do it. Easy. Anything for you.

So he followed you into the crush of bodies, hands finding your hips like instinct.

You started slow, teasing him as you always do, rolling against him in time with the beat, hips grinding back into him, arm slipping around his neck, mouth grazing his ear.

Rafe let you take over, didn’t care who saw. He closed his eyes for a second, pulling you in tighter. It hit him like déjà vu—that first summer in Miami—sneaking out when you’d found a babysitter, slipping into clubs just like this one, you laughing against his neck while he pretended to hate dancing and really just wanted you like this… It hadn’t changed. If anything, you looked better now. Stronger. Warmer. Somehow even more his. Like you didn’t see the tired in his eyes or the gray at his temples. Just him. And maybe that’s why it ruined him even after all these years, you hadn’t stopped choosing him.

You tipped your head back to smile up at him, face flushed, eyes bright with it all.

“I’m gonna hit the bathroom,” you said, your fingers brushing his chest without really thinking.

He blinked, still a little dazed. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll grab a table.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, watching as you disappeared through the crowd.

Rafe made his way off the floor, weaving between groups of bodies until he found an empty booth near the edge. He slid into the booth, chest still warm from the floor, from you. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling his phone out without thinking.

Wallpaper? Changed—immediately. That shot from the beach, you in that damn dress with the sun behind you. Christ. He didn’t even hesitate.

He shot a quick text to the kids—Goodnight. Love you. Be good.

He glanced up—and there they were. Frat boys packed in by the taps, loud as hell, tossing arms over each other like they ran the place. Rafe just shook his head, couldn’t help the smirk. Same Greek letters from his old house. Hell, they probably knew his name, even if they didn’t know they knew it.

And then—you came back out. You had a whole group with you now, girls barely old enough to drink, laughing like you were one of them. And you were right in the center, flushed, glowing, smiling that smile, lighting up your whole face.

You caught his eye, gave a little wave toward the booth, but one of the girls tugged you toward the bar, mouthing ‘just one drink’.

Rafe leaned back, arm slung over the booth, watching. That old twist pulled tight in his gut.

It started slow. One guy at the bar caught sight of you, elbowed his buddy. Then another. The second one’s jaw actually dropped. Rafe saw it. The third leaned in, whispering behind a grin. A couple more straight-up turned around to watch you walk.

His hand curled tighter around the table’s edge. He exhaled, slow, steady. Yeah, he was proud. Damn proud. You looked… unreal. That glow, that dress, the way you moved—no one in the room could ignore you. But that didn’t mean it was easy to watch.

That old edge crept in—possessive, sharp. He’d felt it before. Years ago. Weeks ago. Days even… Too many times to count.

How many nights had it been just like this? You turning heads without even trying. And him standing there, the guy who got to take you home. Except now, there was a diamond on your hand and a couple of kids with his eyes asleep at home.

He laughed to himself—quiet and dry. Took a long drink just to cut the heat. And then he saw the kid. One of them broke off from the group—broad-shouldered, all confidence, that smug, slow swagger of someone who thinks he’s God’s gift.

Rafe clocked him instantly. President type. Probably the type who gave pep talks about leadership and thought a wink and a beer could get him whatever he wanted.

Rafe’s jaw tightened. He stood up, easy, but with purpose. Eyes locked. Let the kid try. Just once.

𝓨𝓸��𝓻 𝓟𝓞𝓥 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

You barely made it to the bar before the girls had you fully pulled into their circle—arms linked through yours, laughing, warm and tipsy already.

“We loved your lip combo,” one of them gushed, tugging your wrist toward her. “Tell me what that is—seriously. I need it—”

“—Wait, no, first you have to do my hair. I’m hot as fuck.”

Without thinking, you were sliding your fingers into her curls, twisting them up like second nature.

“There,” you smiled. “Perfect.”

“She’s ours now,” one girl grinned. “Not yours.”

You were mid-laugh, drink halfway to your lips, no idea what was heading your way until it was already there.

You looked up—and that’s when he walked in. Tall, tan, broad through the shoulders. Hat turned backward. Shirt clinging to him, far too tight. He smelled like sweat and weed, cheap cologne layered on top like that could fix it.

Two of his buddies flanked him like backup. One already smirking. One fixing his chain, sizing you up like you were something to claim.

“Hey,” the tallest one grinned, eyes dragging over you. “Didn’t think they let models in here.”

“Ewww,” one of the girls drones. “Leave, thanks. She’s with us—”

“She looks like she could use a real drink,” one of the boys shoots back.

Another cuts in, leaning way too close. “You come here with anyone, princess?”

The tall one grabs your arm this time, wanting you closer. “What’s your major, sweetheart?” His voice dipped, slow, like he thought he was already halfway there.

“I—I don’t go to school here.”

“No way,” one said. “C’mon. Don’t play—”

“FIU? UM?” Another tossed out. “You totally look like a UM girl… That vibe.”

“Yeah, you party here a lot?” The third cut in, resting his hand on your lower back. You opened your mouth, about to answer, but the girls weren’t having it—one shoved a shot in your hand with a wink.

“Take this,” she whispered. “Quick, before they ask if you live in the dorms.”

You barely caught the glass before a voice cut through the crowd—low, sharp, cold enough to crack ice.

“Baby—”

Everyone turned and there was Rafe. Broad shoulders cutting through the bodies, jaw tight, eyes hard as glass. No smile. No play. Just pure, protective heat rolling off him in waves.

One of the guys let out a short, nervous laugh. “Oh shit. Is this your dad?”

Rafe’s brows pinched tight, nostrils flaring in disgust, scoffing at the ridiculousness of the question as one of the girls gasped, clutching your arm. “Damn, babe, is that your dad?” Her voice, intrigued, way too interested if the answer was ‘yes’.

You were buzzed, breath short, pulse hammering—and when you saw him, the grin just happened. You tilted your head toward Rafe, voice sweet as sugar. “No, hun,” you said, laughing softly. “That’s my husband.” And just like that, the air behind you shifted.

Rafe’s arm came around your waist, hard and fast. No sweet little touch. No show for the crowd. His hand spread on your hip, fingers digging in like even air between you might kill him.

You sank into him without thinking—whole body going soft against his chest. Your heart was thudding, your smile stretching so fast you couldn’t stop it if you tried.

“Damn,” the frat boy grinned, not an ounce of sense left in him. “You’re married to that?” He tipped his chin at Rafe, lifted his fist like he expected a bump.

“Well, fuck me,” another laughed. “You don’t look like a wife.”

“You a mom, baby?” One slurred, loud enough to turn heads—voice slick and drunk. “Shit... That’s even hotter.”

Rafe’s laugh broke out sharp and mean, no warmth in it. “She’s got four,” he said, voice low and sharp enough to cut.

“Well, sweetheart… if you ever get bored—” CRACK. It landed clean, fast, and final.

The frat boy staggered, one hand flying to his cheek, eyes wide—like he’d just been snapped out of a dream he had no business having.

Rafe didn’t follow up the slap. Didn’t move. Just stood there, calm and steady, like he’d barely spent the energy.

“You don’t talk to her again,” he said, voice flat and even. “You don’t look at her. You don’t even think about her.”

No threat. No raised voice. Just fact.

He turned to you like none of it mattered. Like the moment was already behind him.

The second his eyes landed on you, something shifted—locked in, grounded. His hand found your waist, pulling you flush to him, thumb dragging slow against your ribs.

“You alright?” He asked, voice low, warm, only for you.

You gave a small nod, still a little dazed, breath catching as it hit you.

“Good,” he murmured.

Then he kissed your temple—slow, steady—his mouth trailing down to your jaw like he needed the reassurance just as much as you did.

His hand found yours next, fingers curling around it gently before he lifted it, slow and deliberate, like showing the world mattered just as much as holding on. The ring caught the light.

“You see this?” He said, voice low and scraped raw. “That means she’s not lookin’. Not tonight. Not ever.”

“We’re sorry—”

“Open your mouth again,” he said, cool and razor-sharp, “it’ll be your last.”

Your breath caught. Your hips shifted instinctively into his hold, body already giving in to him without thinking.

He moved in slow, hand sliding into your hair, mouth brushing your ear. His voice dropped, rough and close. “You have no idea what you do to me.” His hand tightened in your hair—firm and steady—just enough to keep you right there. “And these boys?” He growled, low and rough. “They can sit here all night with their dicks in their hands thinkin’ about you. Won’t change a damn thing.” He dragged his mouth along your jaw, slow. “You’re gonna be in our bed, takin’ every inch of me. Full of me. Understand?”

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Just looked up at him—flushed, giddy, heart pounding out of rhythm.

A helpless smile bloomed across your mouth, too soft and full to hide.

“C’mon, baby,” he said, voice breath-worn and thick. “Let’s get you the fuck outta here.”

Ｔｈｅ Ｌｏｅｗｓ Ｍｉａｍｉ Ｂｅａｃｈ Ｈｏｔｅｌ…

The door hadn’t even shut all the way before Rafe had you; arms wrapping around your waist, spinning you so fast your shoulder thudded against the wood—sharp enough to knock a gasp out of you.

And then his mouth collided with yours, stealing whatever breath you had left.

You whimpered, one hand fisting in the front of his shirt like you were trying to hold your ground, the other already in his hair, tugging hard. He groaned into your mouth. Hips pressing into yours, craving the friction.

He groaned deep into your mouth, grinding his hips into you. “Mine,” he muttered, breath hot and jagged against your lips. His forehead dropped to yours, voice shaking as he growled, “You belong to me, you hear me?”

You could barely speak; barely breathe. Every inch of you was aching. “Yours,” you whispered, voice cracking. “Always yours.”

Then you were in the air. Rafe scooped under your thighs, the other braced tight across your back. You gasped, arms flying around his neck, your heart pounding like it was trying to escape your ribs. “Rafe—”

“— Shut up, baby,” he rasped, lips brushing your cheek as he carried you deeper into the room. “Been waitin’ all fuckin’ night.”

Your panties were already soaked, body burning, barely sure you’d even make it to the bed before he took you. But he made it—barely. He carried you through the room, tossed you down, and mounted you in one fluid motion; knee driving into the mattress, his big body looming above you, hands spreading wide across your thighs.

You looked up at him, breath shallow, chest heaving. And Rafe stared back—like he could never get used to seeing you like this, like he’d never be done worshipping you—it stole your breath, cleaned out your lungs.

“All night you just… Fuck, baby,” he murmured, voice hoarse and thick, “You sat there all fuckin’ night lookin’ like this. I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about your mouth. The taste of you…”

You whimpered, legs falling open on instinct.

“Want you naked,” he said, eyes dark. “Need to see all of you.”

You reached for the hem of your dress but he caught your wrists before you could move; his grip was firm and possessive. “That’s mine to take off.”

You nodded fast; your whole body humming with need as his hand slid slowly up your inner thigh. Rafe paused at the edge of your panties, fingers trapped between skin and lace, tracing just enough to make you tremble.

When he brushed the fabric and you felt him stop; the breath hitched in his chest as he rolled out his neck. “Fuck,” he muttered, eyes locked on the damp spot already bleeding through the fabric. “So damn wet…”

You arched toward his touch, hips shifting like they had a mind of their own.

“M’I teasin’ you, princess?” He asks through a teasing sigh, tracing the wet with his eyes set on yours. You bit your pouted lip, eyes pleading with his. “Hmm… I’ll make you a deal then, yeah? You stop bein’ so wet for me. And, I’ll stop teasin’ you,” he taunts as he peels your panties down slowly—agonizingly so—dragging them over your thighs inch by inch, eyes fixed on every part of you he uncovered. “We both know that ain’t gonna happen,” he mumbles as he tosses them to the floor, his palms coming right back to your skin, sliding up, chasing the heat.

“Arms up,” he murmurs. “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

You obey, lifting your arms as your dress bunches higher. Rafe pushes the fabric up slowly, pausing to kiss your stomach; to stroke his tongue along the curve of your breast, savoring every inch. When he finally tugs the dress over your head, and flung it aside, your whole body trembled beneath him.

He sat back on his heels, eyes sweeping down you like he was trying to memorize the way you looked. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, his voice raw. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. My girl.”

Then he stood, hands going to the buttons of his shirt. Your mouth went dry.

He caught the look on your face and smirked. “Eyes on me, sweetheart,” he said in that low, Southern drawl that always got to you. “Wanna watch me undress?”

You nodded, lips parting. “Good girl,” he hummed.

One button. Then another. He yanked his shirt off without thinking, undershirt right after, like he couldn’t get them off fast enough. You watched the whole thing—watched the way his skin caught the light, the way his chest rose with each breath.

He watched you watching him, grin darkening. “Love the way you look at me,” he murmured. “Like you’re starvin’.”

You reached for him, needing to touch something but he just smirked, stepping back a little as he undid his belt with one hand, slow like he had all the time in the world. The leather hit the floor with a low thunk, and you whimpered.

“Can’t even sit still, can you?” He teased, unzipping his pants slow as sin. “Barely even touched you yet.”

Rafe dragged them down, boxers clinging tight, cock already straining. When he pushed them down and stepped out, your breath caught.

Thick, flushed, his cock hung heavy, and you whined at the sight of it. His gaze darkened. He didn’t speak. Just climbed back over you, slow and controlled, body sliding between your thighs like it belonged there.

He bit down gently beneath your jaw, making you arch into him. “How the hell did I get so lucky, huh?” His hand moved up between your legs—fingers slicking through your folds, slow and teasing. You gasped, thighs jerking. “Fuck,” he groaned. “You want it that bad?”

“Yes,” you whimpered. “Please—”

His fingers circled your clit, barely brushing, just enough to make you reel. “Not yet,” he breathed. “Gotta be quiet for me, baby.” His mouth brushed your ear. “You remember this is a suite, yeah? Everyone’s asleep. But I know how fuckin’ loud you get when I make you cum.” You nodded quickly, breath ragged, hips twitching. “Can you stay quiet?” He asked, voice like gravel. “Can you be good for me?”

“Yes—Yes, I’ll be good.”

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, lips at your temple. “You say that now…”

You reached for him again—traced your fingers down his abs, caught the muscles flexing under your touch.

“Wanna hear you beg,” he rasped, dragging the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing your clit, watching your body jolt.

“You ready for me, baby?” he asked. “Want this cock?”

“Please,” you gasped. “Rafe, please—I need it—”

He lined himself up—pressing just enough for you to feel the stretch—and held still.

“Eyes on me,” he growled. “Wanna see you fall apart.”

You forced your gaze up, lips parted, eyes wide.

“Fuck,” he whispered, pushing in slow—inch by inch—stretching you open. “So tight, baby. Made for me.”

You sobbed, nails digging into his back as your body fought to take him.

“Shhh,” he whispered, mouth hot at your ear. “You promised me.”

You nodded fast, lips parted, breath held, just trying to be good. Trying so hard not to make a sound.

“That’s it,” he hums, voice low and rough. “You’re doin’ so good. You’re my good girl, remember?”

Another thrust—deep and slow—dragging a choked cry from your throat.

He growled, hips rolling. “You feel that? That’s me, baby. Deep in this perfect little pussy—right where I fuckin’ belong.”

Your body arched, shaking, overwhelmed.

“Please,” you sobbed. “I need—”

“You need it?” He rasped, pace beginning to pick up. “You’ll fuckin’ take it.”

He drove in deep, grinding against your clit, hips slamming again and again.

“Wanna be loud?” He taunted, breath hot against your cheek. “Wanna let ‘em hear? Want every fuckin’ man in this hotel to know who owns you?”

You could barely breathe, let alone answer.

“Shhh,” he murmured, gentler now. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good. Just stay with me.”

You nodded fast—submissive, desperate, right on the edge.

“That’s my girl,” he breathed, driving deeper. “Take it all for me. Let me see how sweet this pussy is.”

Your whole body locked—hips jolting, back arching, your orgasm tearing through you hard and fast.

He felt it—felt your cunt clamp down tight, fluttering around him.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “That’s it. Cum on my cock. Let me feel you.”

He didn’t stop. Just kept fucking you through it. “Wanted this, didn’t you?” He growled. “Wanted me to fill you up?” You sobbed against his palm, overwhelmed. “Take it,” he groaned. “I’m gonna give it to you, baby. Every fuckin’ drop.” Your vision blurred, heat crashing through you in waves. “Gonna fuck a baby into you,” he growled. “Keep you full for days.”

Your walls clenched again, another wave building, sharp and uncontrollable, and Rafe snapped. He groaned loud, hips grinding deep, cock twitching as he spilled into you. “Take it all,” he growled, staying buried, driving so deep your eyes rolled back and fluttered shut. You whimpered, too spent to move, body trembling under him.

His breath came hard against your neck, his voice softening with every second. “You’re perfect,” he whispered. “You hear me? Fuckin’ perfect.”

He eased his hand from your mouth to brush your cheek with his thumb as he tilted down and kissed you slow. You kissed him back, never more satisfied, still full of him, clutching onto his body, not wanting to let go.

And he didn’t move—not yet. Just held you open, his cum warm inside you, his voice gentle in your ear. “Gonna keep you like this,” he murmured, smiling against your skin. “Full of me. Just the way I like you.”

You shuddered under him. And in that moment—with his hands on your body, his breath in your ear, and his body still one with yours—you had never felt more his… More Rafe’s.

@rafesthroatbaby | @ietss | @lilithblackkk | @rafecameronsfavourite | @my-name-is-baby | @urmotherlvr | @forgiveliv | @barnesboo1967 | @wtfisastiles | @k4yr14 | @taliescapes | @rafesbuzzcutseason | @sky-44 | @biascriptum | @vanessa-rafesgirl | @lolasangelz | @st8rkey | @lhhlver | @slut-4-rafey | @gri959 | @prettybabyyyy | @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account | @maybankslover | @littlelamy | @buckybarnessweetheart | @angelicameron | @lover-girlyy | @rcameronlova1 | @rafesbabygirlx | @mayanqueenxx | @bimbob1tch | @dylsdaily | @blair-bears-blog | @akobx | @countryclubwhore | @esmerai-artemis | @jkmylove97 | @wtfdudesblog | @livie4lifestarkeyblyth | @yasmin-oviedo | @queen-cs | @floredaqueen | @alexxavicry | @aerie717 | @cokewithcameron | @premiumshitt | @rcameronlova1

[cocosweetie]

daddy’s paradise

daddy!rafe x baby!reader

the sun hung high in the sky, painting the ocean in endless shades of blue. waves lapped gently at the shore, palm trees swayed in the breeze, and the heat settled thick and heavy over everything.

perfection.

except—

y/n was pouting.

rafe had given her everything. first-class flight. five-star resort. a private island with no one else around, just her and him. she had a suitcase full of bikinis that barely counted as clothing, a villa bigger than most mansions, and an infinity pool that overlooked the ocean.

and yet—

she still wanted more.

"what now, princess?" rafe sighed, lounging back on the chair. his swim trunks hung low on his hips, muscles golden from the sun, a glass of whiskey in his hand. unbothered. or at least, he was trying to be.

y/n stood at the edge of the pool, her arms crossed, lips pushed into a perfect little pout. she knew exactly what she was doing.

because that bikini?

it was pink, tiny, and practically invisible.

two pathetic little triangles covered her chest, tied together with thin strings that looked like they could snap at any second. the matching bottoms were even worse. just strings and a scrap of fabric that did absolutely nothing.

rafe had been staring for the past twenty minutes, trying not to lose his mind.

"you’re ignoring me," she whined, tilting her head. her voice was honey-sweet, all soft and needy.

rafe exhaled sharply. fuck.

"am i?"

"yes." she pouted harder. "i’ve been so good, daddy. don’t i deserve attention?"

his jaw flexed. "princess, we are literally on a private island because you batted your lashes at me and said, ‘but daddy, i wanna go somewhere pretty.’ and now you’re telling me that’s not enough?"

y/n blinked up at him. "no," she said sweetly.

rafe dragged a hand down his face, trying so hard not to look at the way her chest pushed against those tiny pink strings.

"of course not."

she kicked her feet in the water, making little splashes. "daddyyy."

"princess."

"don’t you love me anymore?" she whispered, eyes big and glassy.

rafe groaned, gripping his glass tighter.

she was gonna kill him.

"y/n—"

"because," she interrupted, voice soft, "you don’t even wanna swim with me…"

he clenched his jaw. she was playing with him. she knew exactly what she was doing, standing there in that barely-there bikini, pouting up at him like he hadn’t been staring at her chest this whole time.

"you could just ask nicely," he muttered.

"i did," she gasped. "so nicely. and you ignored me, daddy. you made me sad."

jesus christ.

she was a menace.

water droplets clung to her skin, her cheeks warm from the sun, and rafe was barely holding it together.

y/n was spoiled, impossible, completely irresistible.

and she knew it.

rafe exhaled sharply, setting his drink down. "fine."

she beamed as he stood, towering over her before stepping into the pool.

and the second he was in?

she was on him.

arms wrapping around his neck. legs locking around his waist. her tiny bikini-clad body pressing against him, all warm and soft and fucking perfect.

"hi, daddy," she whispered, grinning.

rafe ran a hand down his face. "jesus christ."

she giggled, nuzzling into his neck. "love you."

"you better," he muttered, gripping her hips. "you just dragged me in here like i’m your personal floatie."

she pulled back, giving him her sweetest doe-eyed look. "but you are."

rafe groaned, gripping her tighter. "ruined. i am ruined."

y/n just smiled, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "mm. yeah, you are."

[cocosweetie]

yours to break

sub!rafe x fem!reader

rafe cameron was a nightmare.

at school, he made sure you knew it.

he was relentless—tripping you in the hallway, knocking your books out of your hands just to watch you sigh in frustration, leaning down to whisper something cruel in your ear while his friends laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. he’d smirk, watching you with those sharp blue eyes, waiting for a reaction.

"what's wrong, princess?" he’d taunt, all mock sympathy. "thought you could handle me."

he was unbearable. arrogant. a menace.

but at home?

at home, he was yours.

on his knees, forehead resting against your thigh, hands gripping at your legs like he was praying at an altar. like he wasn’t the same boy who spent his days tormenting you.

"please," rafe rasped, voice wrecked, hands sliding up your thighs like he needed to hold onto you. "please, baby, don't be mad. i need you."

you scoffed, tilting his chin up with two fingers, making him meet your gaze. his eyes were wide, pleading, so desperate it almost made you laugh.

"you’re mean to me at school," you said, voice light, almost teasing. "why should i be nice to you now?"

rafe swallowed hard, licking his lips like he was trying to find the right words. "you don’t get it," he said, shaking his head. "i gotta keep a reputation somehow."

you hummed, dragging your fingers through his hair before giving it a sharp tug, making him whimper. "is that right?"

"yeah," he breathed, nodding quickly. "but you—fuck, you know it’s not like that. not really. i worship you, baby. you’re everything."

his hands tightened on your thighs, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, eyes flicking between yours like he was searching for mercy.

"then prove it," you murmured, watching the way he melted at your voice.

"i will," he promised, nodding so fast it was pathetic. "anything."

you smirked, pressing a thumb against his bottom lip, watching the way he parted his mouth, obedient, waiting.

"open up," you commanded.

rafe obeyed instantly, tongue flicking out, pupils blown wide with need. you leaned in close, letting spit drip from your lips into his waiting mouth.

he moaned. actually moaned. eyes fluttering shut like it was the best thing he’d ever been given.

"good boy," you murmured, running a hand through his hair again, this time softer.

rafe exhaled shakily, cheeks flushed, lips slightly swollen, and when he looked up at you again, it was with pure devotion.

"see?" he whispered, voice raw. "i belong to you."

you hummed, dragging your fingers through his hair again before tugging him up, forcing him to his feet. his breath hitched, body pressed against yours, his hands hesitant like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch.

"you’re gonna stop being mean to me at school," you murmured, tilting your head, fingers tracing down the line of his jaw.

rafe swallowed hard. "baby—"

"or i won’t touch you again," you warned, watching his face fall in an instant.

"no—fuck, i’ll be good," he promised, nodding so fast it was pathetic. "i swear, i just—please, baby, i need you."

you smirked, gripping his jaw, pulling him down until your lips were barely brushing his. "prove it."

he crashed his lips against yours, desperate, needy, like he’d been starving for you. his hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him, deepening the kiss like he couldn’t stand the thought of any space between you.

he kissed you like he had something to make up for. like he was trying to replace every cruel word, every shove in the hallway, every cocky smirk with the way he moaned against your lips, the way his hands trembled slightly as they held onto you.

your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and he whimpered, hips stuttering forward, pressing even closer.

"please," he murmured between kisses, lips moving desperately against yours. "please, baby, tell me you forgive me."

you smirked against his mouth. "are you gonna behave?"

"yes," he breathed, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck. "i’ll be so good, baby. promise."

you sighed, dragging your nails lightly down his back, and he shivered. "fine. i forgive you."

rafe groaned, arms tightening around you like he never wanted to let go. "thank you, thank you," he murmured, lips pressing against every inch of skin he could reach.

you rolled your eyes, shoving him back onto the bed. he let out a little yelp before you climbed on top of him, and he immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face against your chest.

"’m sorry," he mumbled again, voice muffled against your skin. "you’re so soft, baby. let me stay here forever."

you laughed, fingers threading through his hair. "needy," you teased.

rafe hummed, nuzzling closer, lips pressing against the swell of your chest. "only for you," he whispered, voice soft, content.

and just like that, the menace from school was gone—left behind in favor of the boy curled up in your arms, clinging to you like you were the only thing that mattered.

[cocosweetie]

baby girl

rafe treats y/n like she’s made of glass. like she’s something soft, delicate—something his.

and she lets him. because how could she not? when he’s always looking at her like that? when his touch is always so gentle?

like now—when she pouts at him from the passenger seat, arms crossed, lips pursed in that way that makes him weak.

“what?” he asks, fighting back a smirk, reaching over to squeeze her thigh.

“you didn’t let me carry the bags.”

rafe exhales, shaking his head. “because you don’t need to. what kind of boyfriend would i be if i let you carry heavy shit, huh?”

y/n huffs, turning to the window. “they weren’t even that heavy.”

and that’s when he knows—she’s just being a brat.

so he leans over at a red light, pressing a kiss to her temple. “my sweet girl,” he murmurs, lips dragging down to her jaw. “so spoiled, huh?”

she mumbles something under her breath, but he catches it—“not spoiled.”

he just grins. “nah, you are, angel. i made you that way.”

because he does spoil her. carries her bags, opens her doors, pulls her into his lap just because. worships her. and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

so when they get home, and she starts trying to grab the shopping bags again, he just tuts, plucking them right out of her hands.

“what did i say, baby?”

she pouts up at him. “but—”

rafe just shakes his head, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “no buts. let me take care of you.”

she lets out a dramatic sigh but doesn’t argue, instead watching as he carries all the bags inside like it’s nothing.

“you know,” she says, plopping onto the couch, stretching like a cat, “i could have helped.”

rafe raises a brow, setting the bags down before making his way over to her. “oh yeah?”

“yeah.”

he hums, settling beside her, pulling her into his lap with ease. “but you like when i baby you, huh?”

she rolls her eyes, but he sees the way her lips twitch, how she doesn’t move away when he starts pressing slow, lazy kisses to her neck.

“admit it,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “you like being my spoiled little baby girl.”

she exhales, tilting her head slightly as he keeps kissing, hands gripping at his shirt.

“maybe.”

rafe chuckles, pulling back to look at her. “yeah?”

she shrugs, playing with the collar of his shirt, but when she finally looks up, she’s got that look in her eyes—the one that makes him weak. the one that tells him she’s just as obsessed with him as he is with her.

so he kisses her—slow, deep, like he’s got all the time in the world.

when they finally pull apart, he brushes a thumb over her cheek, voice soft. “good girl.”

-

now she’s curled up in his lap, fingers lazily playing with the chain around his neck, lips slightly swollen from how he’d kissed her stupid just moments ago.

and he can’t help himself.

his hands roam—slow, lazy, like he’s got nowhere else to be. one hand resting on the small of her back, the other tracing patterns along her bare thigh, dipping beneath the hem of her shorts.

“you tired, baby?” he murmurs, voice soft, knowing.

y/n hums, blinking up at him, looking dazed, floaty. “a little.”

he smiles, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “you wanna nap?”

she makes a noise, nuzzling closer, pressing her face into his neck. “mmm. just wanna sit here.”

and his heart melts.

because she’s never really said it, but he knows—knows she feels safest when she’s with him, tucked against him like this, wrapped up in his warmth.

so he just hums, rubbing slow circles into her back. “yeah? my lap comfy, huh?”

she nods, sighing contentedly. “mhm. best seat in the house.”

rafe chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “yeah, ‘cause it’s your seat, angel.”

she doesn’t respond, but the way she sighs again, soft and sweet, is enough.

he keeps holding her, fingers tracing slow, absentminded shapes against her skin, lips pressing light, fleeting kisses to her temple, her forehead, her jaw.

and when he feels her breathing even out, feels her relax completely in his arms, he knows she’s drifted off.

he smiles to himself, tightening his hold just a little, letting his head rest against the couch.

yeah, he thinks, pressing one last kiss to her forehead. he could hold her like this forever.

-

rafe doesn’t move—not even an inch. not when his leg starts going numb, not when his arm starts to tingle. because y/n is asleep, all warm and tucked against him, and he’d rather die than wake her up.

his baby girl—soft, sweet, always pressed up against him like she belongs there. (she does.)

he’s careful as he shifts just slightly, just enough to cup the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair. she stirs a little, sighing in her sleep, pressing closer.

rafe just smiles, running a thumb over her cheek. she looks so peaceful like this, face smushed against his chest, lips parted, lashes fluttering faintly.

he has to kiss her.

so he does—just a light press of his lips to her forehead, lingering for a second before pulling away.

but she feels it.

she exhales softly, shifting in his lap, stretching like a cat before blinking up at him, still sleepy, still floaty.

“…how long was i out?” her voice is quiet, groggy.

rafe grins, brushing some hair from her face. “’bout an hour.”

her brows furrow slightly. “you let me sleep that long?”

“‘course i did, angel.” his fingers move down, tracing the side of her neck, his voice dropping slightly. “you looked too pretty to wake up.”

her lips part slightly, and rafe knows he’s got her.

he smirks, dragging his hand down her arm, slow, teasing. “feel good?”

y/n nods, still dazed, blinking at him like she’s not sure if she’s awake or still dreaming.

rafe hums, tilting his head. “yeah? what feels good, baby?”

she exhales. “you.”

and he’s done for.

he cups her face, tilting it up as he leans in, lips brushing hers—soft, teasing. “yeah?”

“mhm.” her hands slide up his chest, gripping his shirt weakly, like she’s trying to pull him closer, but he’s already as close as he can be.

“wanna kiss?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing.

she nods again, breath hitching slightly. “please.”

rafe grins before finally—finally—closing the distance, kissing her soft and slow, like he’s got all the time in the world.

because he does. because he’s not going anywhere.

when they finally pull apart, she exhales, nuzzling into him, hands still fisted in his shirt.

rafe just chuckles, running a hand down her back. his baby girl.

more daddy!rafe

y/n trying to smoke

love bites

teaching y/n how to kiss

[cocosweetie]

Cuteness aggression 🐰ྀི C. Sturniolo

“You’re cute, but stop fuckin’ bitin' me kid!”

⟢ Cuteness aggression, and that’s about it. Link to video this was inspired by is in the title!!!

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

She didn't understand why she felt this way.

She took one look at her boyfriend, and suddenly, she had all this energy bouncing around in her body. It wasn't like he was doing anything special, he had just come back inside from smoking and was now sitting at his desk playing some random game.

But for some reason, he just looked adorable.

His eyes were low and hazy, whatever strain of weed he smoked making him relaxed. He had on one of his larger sweaters and a pair of sweatpants, the clothes making him look so cozy and warm. He was manspreading as well, leaning back in his chair and mumbling under his breath.

She just couldn't take it anymore.

She hops off the bed with ease, her feet making a soft thump on the hardwood floors before she makes her way over to Chris. His eyes dart to her figure, her face being illuminated by the two monitors on his desk.

"Hey bab-" he's immediately cut off by the girl climbing onto his lap, a soft smile on his face as she nuzzles her head into his neck. He chuckles silently, kissing the top of her head.

"Few more minutes Bun, then I'm all yours."

She hums softly and cuddles up to him even more, attempting to calm herself down, however, it doesn't work. That energy still bursting in her body is at an all-time high, and it's all because he looks cute.

She couldn't handle it anymore.

She starts to pepper small kisses along his neck, nothing sexual, just showing her ever-growing affection towards him. As the seconds go by and her energy increases, the small and soft kisses become more aggressive.

She moves the kisses to his jaw, the smooching noises becoming more obnoxious, but somehow, Chris doesn't notice.

She uses this as an opportunity.

She goes back to kissing along his neck, trailing the kisses to his shoulder before sinking her teeth into his skin.

The action finally catches Chis's attention, his body jerking and head whipping towards her. She looks at him innocently, as if she didn't just bite him.

"Kid, what the hell are you doing?"

"Nothing..."

He can't help the smile of disbelief making its way across his face. "Nothing? You just took a bite out of my shoulder like a damn shark." She giggles and attacks his face with more kisses, cupping his cheeks and squishing them together.

"You're just so cute, and I can't help it! I look at you, and I just wanna-" She lets out a noise that sounds like a squeal and a growl. Chris scrunches his face up and tries to push her away, but it's no use - she's stronger than a toddler who has something they aren't supposed to have.

He eventually gives up, letting her continue the assault on his face. All he can do is sit there and take the love and affection his favorite girl gives him.

She stops her kisses and smushes her face against his, their forehead and noses touching.

"You look like that damn Spongebob meme you sent me," he mumbles, his hands finding their way to her hips. She ignores him and basically stares at him with heart eyes.

"You're so handsome, so cute, I could just eat you up!"

"I'm not cute kid- OW!"

He moves his face away as she bites at his nose, his headphones falling off in the process. He huffs and stands up, throwing her over his shoulder effortlessly. She squeals in shock and laughs as he throws her down on the bed. He crawls over her, keeping her pinned down to the bed.

"You’re cute but stop fuckin’ bitin' me kid!”

She smiles and wraps her body around him, pulling him closer and kissing all over his face once more.

"I just get so giddy and full of energy when I look at you, that I don't know how to get rid of it!"

Her explanation makes him smile, he knew exactly what feeling she was talking about - he often felt it himself.

He grabs her jaw, making her look at him. He can see the love in her eyes, it makes him feel warm inside.

"I love you," he expresses softly.

She smiles widely and plants a fat kiss on his lips, "I love you too...Can we get ice cream?"

[cocosweetie]

chris being obsessed with kissing readers face because she is so pretty and he loves her so much

Kisses, Please!

===========================================

You wanted this to be a relaxing evening. The thick, stuffy air stuck to both of you even after showering. LA summers were gross. All you wanted after the sunset was to melt into Chris's bed, sleep forever until it gets cool outside again.

But with Chris, there's no such thing as peace. Well, not in a bad way. With him, it's a rollercoaster of affection and love to get to bed. It's a whirlwind of love.

"Chris!" you squeal, breath knocked from your lungs as his full weight presses into you. He wraps around you like a human weighted blanket, all arms, legs, and way too much warmth. You try to squirm, but it’s like wrestling a cuddly boulder.

"What?" he says, acting like he isn't suffocating you into the mattress. His soft, cooling lips find your cheek, temple, eyelid, forehead, memorizing your face by the way every feature feels on his lips.

That’s the thing about Chris: he doesn’t love quietly. His affection is loud, shameless, and overwhelming in the best and worst ways. He used to be worried about showing this kind of affection, but you helped a lot. He clutches you tighter, a goofy grin on his face. “I’m kissing the love of my life, leave me the fuck alone,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by your skin.

You try to act annoyed; you even let out a groan, but the corners of your mouth betray you. His kisses tickle, and your laugh bubbles up before you can stop it. Your cheeks ache from smiling so hard, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him to stop, not when his love feels this safe, this full.

So much for sleep. But honestly? You wouldn't trade this chaos for all the peace in the world.

===========================================

This is short af, but I might have something in the works :)

@flouvela @kinascum @nickssidewitch @pvssychicken @slut4christopherr @mattsbestgirl @tessasturns @emely9274 @conspiracy-ash @h3arts4harry @chrepsi @slvt4subchratt @bamsblooming @frostmellow @sweetpeabreezyree @courta13 @starrii-sturns @delilahsturniolo @tits4matt @whor3ing @lilyswirly @sturns-mermaid @ariieeesworld @luvs4matt @sturniolo-szn2

[cocosweetie]

Chris’s brothers or parents walking in on Chris eating reader out

𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓

cw: pussy eating, someone walking in,

Your legs were already shaking—trembling—by the time Chris flattened his tongue against you again, slow and heavy like he was dragging it on purpose just to hear the sounds you made. Your back arched, muscles tight and pulsing, breath hitching in your throat like your body couldn’t decide whether to sob or scream.

He hummed, deep and smug, like your reaction was the exact feedback he wanted.

“Chris—fuck, please,” you choked out, thighs threatening to close around his head. But he only pushed them wider, spreading you open like you were his meal—and god, weren’t you?

One hand gripped your hip, grounding you, while the other slipped under your ass to lift you just slightly into his mouth. He moaned against you—moaned—and your whole spine lit up with electricity.

“Right there,” you gasped, breathless and already so close you were seeing stars. “Chris, I—shit, I’m—”

He sped up.

It was vulgar, the way he was eating you out. Like he was addicted. Like nothing else existed outside of making you fall apart under his mouth. Your hand was tangled in his hair, clutching, guiding—but your brain wasn’t forming full thoughts anymore.

You weren’t just enjoying it. You were ruined. Eyes glassy. Mouth open. Whole body tense with the kind of pleasure that made you delirious.

You were so close—so close—when the faintest sound tickled the edge of your awareness.

Click.Creak.

You didn’t process it. You didn’t care.

But someone else did.

“Yo, have either of you seen my—”

The voice stopped.

Chris didn’t.

Because the voice didn’t belong to you, and you weren’t speaking.

You only realized what happened when you blinked toward the door, heart still racing, and saw Matt standing there.

Not moving. Not breathing.

His soul left his body in real time.

You made a sound—something between a gasp and a squeak—as panic flooded through your veins. “CHRIS.”

He didn’t stop. “Mmm, baby?”

You tugged his shoulder with a death grip. “CHRIS. LOOK.”

He finally pulled back, annoyed, lips glossy, eyes blown, and turned to follow your wide-eyed stare.

And there he was. Matt. In the doorway. Staring in abject horror.

For a second, no one moved. Then—

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.”

Chris sat up straighter, blinking. “...You could knock.”

Matt’s face contorted like he was short-circuiting. “YOU LEFT THE DOOR OPEN.”

You were pulling blankets over yourself like they could protect your dignity. “Matt. Get out. Please—get out.”

“I’m calling God,” Matt muttered. “I’m reporting both of you to somebody. I need to go lie down in traffic.”

And then he was gone, slamming the door.

The silence that followed was thick. Warm. Sticky.

Chris turned to you, unfazed. “...So where were we?”

You shoved Chris’s face into the pillow with more force than necessary.

“Why was the door open?!”

He pulled back, muffled and grinning. “It’s my room.”

You gaped at him, mortified. “Your brother just walked in on me with your head between my legs and you’re smiling?!”

Chris snorted, way too casual. “Okay but like… was I doing a bad job? ’Cause I kinda thought I was—”

“CHRIS.”

a/n... munch chris... mm..

[cocosweetie]

𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆

... in which cocky!sub!chris swears he'd never whimper or beg and you try and prove him wrong

cw: subbbyyyy, whimpering, handjob, blowjob, p in v, pussy eating

“You’re so full of yourself,” you said, hovering just close enough for him to feel your breath against his jaw.

Chris grinned like the devil. “I mean, can you blame me?”

You rolled your eyes, letting your fingertips drag slowly down his chest. “You really think you’ve got all the control, huh?”

“I know I do.” His voice dipped, cocky and confident. “I’m not like those other guys you mess with. I don’t beg. I don’t whimper. And I sure as hell don’t give up control.”

That made you laugh—low and dangerous. “Is that a challenge?”

His eyes flicked to your mouth. “I’m just telling you what’s real, baby.”

You stepped in closer, letting your hand slip lower, pressing over the bulge in his jeans with featherlight pressure.

Chris sucked in a breath through his nose—sharp. But his eyes were still dark and lustful.

“I could make you fall apart,” you whispered, teasing him through the denim, slow and maddening. “I could have you crying for it if I wanted to.”

He scoffed—rolling his eyes. “No chance.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, soft and mocking. “You’d beg me to let you come. You’d sob when I didn’t.”

Chris swallowed. You felt it. “I don’t sob.”

“You will.”

You dragged his zipper down slow. Deliberate. Let his cock spring free into your hand, already twitching, already flushed deep and leaking. His jaw clenched.

“Still think you’ve got all the control?” you purred.

Chris tried to speak. Tried to say something cocky. But all that came out was a stuttering breath and the tiniest noise from the back of his throat.

You smiled.

“You’re already whimpering.”

“I’m not—’s just cause you’re holding my dick” His thighs flexed under your grip. He looked down at you like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to pick you up and flip you over or let you do whatever you wanted to him— but he wasn’t giving up easily.

You squeezed him gently, twisting your wrist the way you knew he liked.

His knees buckled.

“Oh, fuck—” he gasped.

There it was. The high, soft groan he swore he didn’t make. Cracked right out of his pretty mouth.

You looked up at him, all fake-innocent. “What was that?”

Chris shook his head, pretending it didn’t happen, cheeks flushed, lips parted. “Wasn’t a whimper.”

You leaned in, pressed your lips to his throat, feeling the frantic pulse there, despite his cocky demeanor.

“I haven’t even started yet.”

“I can take it,” he muttered, jaw clenched. “You’re not gonna break me.”

You raised a brow. “No?”

“I’ve had worse.”

You leaned in close, your breath hot against his cheek. “Mm. You’ve never had me.”

And then you sank to your knees.

Chris flinched.

His hands twitched like he wanted to grab your hair, but he didn’t dare. You licked a slow stripe up the underside of his cock, deliberately slow, teasing. His hips jerked forward before he could stop them.

“Already twitching?” you teased. “That didn’t take long.”

He let out a low, strained breath through his nose. “It’s not like you’re bad at it,” he muttered, trying to sound casual.

You smirked. “I’m better than bad.”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Because then you took him into your mouth—deep, wet, slow enough to burn. His hands balled into fists at his sides, knuckles white. You watched his stomach contract, his thighs tense.

Still silent.

Still trying to win.

So you got meaner.

You hollowed your cheeks, sucked harder. Let your spit drip down his shaft as you bobbed your head, slow and relentless. You moaned around him, loud on purpose, and he whined. A barely-there breathy little gasp that gave him away.

He bit his lip. You pulled off.

“You’re gonna bleed if you keep biting down like that,” you warned, pumping him lazily with your hand. “You gonna cry before you come, Chris?”

His eyes were glassy. “I’m fine.”

You tilted your head. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m—fine.” His voice cracked on the word.

You gave him one long stroke, base to tip, and his hips thrusted without meaning to.

“You’re thrusting into my hand,” you pointed out.

He swore under his breath.

“What’s that? Didn’t catch it.”

“Fuck. You.”

You grinned. “Eventually.”

And then you stood.

He looked wrecked, but still trying to keep his chin high, pretending he wasn’t seconds from begging. You straddled him on the bed. 

Then you guided him inside you in one slow, steady motion. His head thumped back against the headboard, a full-body shudder wracking him.

“Oh my—fuck,” he choked.

You rolled your hips once.

He let out a moan—sharp and sweet.

Then immediately clamped a hand over his mouth, like he could stuff the sound back in.

You grabbed his wrist, pulled his hand away. “Let me hear it.”

He blinked up at you, sweat on his forehead, pupils blown wide. “I don’t—”

You clenched around him.

Chris whimpered.

The sound spilled out of him—high, broken, completely unlike the cocky, smug voice he usually used when he had you under him. He looked horrified the second it escaped, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe he’d made that noise.

But you could. You knew this would happen.

You leaned down, lips brushing just under his ear. “There it is.”

He shook his head weakly, like he could take it back, but you rolled your hips again—slow, grinding—and he shuddered.

“F-Fuck, stop—” he gasped, but his hands were gripping your thighs like he was the one begging you to stay.

“Thought you didn’t beg?” you whispered, dragging your nails lightly down his chest.

“I’m not—shit—I’m not begging.”

You clenched again, fluttering tight around him, and his whole body arched.

“You’re trembling,” you said, smiling like you weren’t seconds away from completely shattering him.

Chris tried to laugh, tried to play it off, but it came out ragged. “You’re—nngh—so full of yourself.”

“And you’re full of me,” you purred, dragging your hips again, slowly, rhythmically, keeping him right there on the edge.

He bit his lip. His hands were gripping you now, not for control—but for balance. You could feel him shaking. His jaw clenched. His abs tightening.

“You can let go,” you whispered, cupping his jaw, tilting his head back to look at you. “You don’t have to pretend.”

Chris whimpered again—louder this time—and his eyes fluttered shut like he was trying to block it all out, but it was too much. You were too much. His breath was coming in shallow pants now, his whole body strung tight like a rubber band about to snap.

“You wanna come, don’t you?”

He shook his head again—reflexive, desperate.

You dragged your hips down hard once, clenching tight.

His hands flew to your waist.

“Fuck—okay, okay, please—don’t stop—”

Your eyes lit up.

“There it is.”

He blinked up at you, wrecked. Face flushed, lips parted, pupils blown black. He didn’t even try to talk anymore—just stared at you like you were the only thing holding him together.

“Beg for it,” you said, gentle. Not teasing now—just real. “Say it.”

He hesitated. Swallowed. And then, voice breaking:

“Please—please let me come—I need it—fuck, I need it—”

You rocked your hips once more and he sobbed, the sound spilling out like he didn’t even know he was capable of it.

“Oh my god, look at you,” you whispered. “Fucking ruined.”

“Please—” His voice cracked, desperate and wrecked and real. “Let me come—please, I swear I’ll be good—please—”

You didn’t stop moving. Not for a second. You kept that same rhythm, same pressure, tight and wet and relentless around him, riding him like your only mission was to wreck whatever pride he had left.

And then he started to shake.

It happened fast—like his body knew before he did. His hands clawed at your waist, not guiding you, not controlling—just holding on, desperate and twitching.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna—” His head dropped back hard against the headboard. His whole spine arched. “Oh my—shit, fuck, I’m coming—”

And then he did.

It ripped out of him like a storm.

His cock twitched hard inside you, pulsing thick ropes as he cried out—sharp and unfiltered, all pretense gone. He came so hard it throbbed, his body jerking with every wave, hips stuttering helplessly beneath you. His thighs were quaking. His chest heaved. His voice cracked on your name as he spilled into you, moaning like it hurt to feel that good.

You didn’t slow down—not right away. You stayed moving, slow and deep, milking every drop from him, watching his eyes flutter open wide before rolling back.

“F-fuck—nngh—oh my god,” he gasped. “I—holy—fuck—”

You finally stopped when he slumped back against the bed, completely limp, sweat clinging to his chest and forehead, mouth open, eyes dazed. His cock twitched again weakly inside you, like it still hadn’t recovered.

You ran a hand through his hair, smiling down at him sweetly. “What happened to ‘you’re not gonna break me’?”

Chris just blinked at you, lips still parted. He looked like a man who had just seen god and got wrecked by her.

“…I think I just blacked out,” he muttered.

You leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Good.”

He blinked up at you, dazed. “…Wait.”

You tilted your head.

His hands twitched, eyes darting between your face and your thighs. “Did you…? I mean—you didn’t—fuck, you didn’t come, did you?”

You bit your lip, letting that silence stretch.

Chris sat up so fast he almost wobbled. “Shit, I didn’t even—fuck, I was supposed to—” He ran a hand through his sweat-matted hair, looking genuinely distressed.

“Relax,” you said, trying not to laugh. “You were kind of busy cumming your soul out of your body.”

But Chris was already reaching for you, urgency building now that he realized the tables had fully turned.

“No, no, no—lay back.” His voice was rough, broken around the edges but dead serious. “I’m not letting that slide.”

He nudged you gently down onto your back, crawling over you, pressing messy kisses to your chest, your stomach, lower. “You’re gonna come,” he muttered. “As many times as you want.”

You hadn’t even finished teasing him when he was already shifting down the bed, settling between your thighs with a shaky breath.

His hands were trembling. His lips were swollen. His cock was still soft and leaking—but none of that stopped him.

He kissed the inside of your knee first, then lower, then lower, until he was hovering right where you wanted him. He looked up through his lashes, still flushed and glassy-eyed.

“Tell me how,” he whispered.

You propped yourself on your elbows, heartbeat thudding. “You want instructions now?”

Chris nodded, eyes fixed on your pussy like it was sacred. “I—I need to do this right.”

You felt heat flood your cheeks. “Just keep your tongue flat—don’t rush. Focus up top.”

And fuck, did he listen.

His mouth met you softly, reverently—like he was trying to memorize the shape of you with his tongue. He licked a slow stripe up your folds, then flattened his tongue right over your clit, warm and wet and so careful, like he was scared to move wrong.

You gasped. He moaned.

And then he did it again—again—building this steady rhythm, mouth moving like he was praying between your legs.

“Just like that,” you breathed. “Fuck, Chris—don’t stop.”

He whined into you. The sound vibrated, and your hips jerked.

His hands—still trembling—gripped your thighs tighter, pulling you closer, anchoring himself there like he needed to stay attached.

Every few strokes, he’d glance up at you, just to see your expression. Like your pleasure was oxygen, and he was holding his breath between every gasp you gave.

You felt the orgasm start deep—low, coiled heat, getting tighter and tighter with every swirl of his tongue.

Your hand slid into his hair, tugging, guiding. “Right there—don’t fucking stop—”

Chris whimpered at your tone. His hips twitched uselessly against the mattress—like even his body was still trying to please you.

You tightened your grip. “Fuck, Chris—yes—”

And then you were coming. Hard.

Your whole body arched, your thighs clamped around his head, and he groaned into you, tongue never stopping, drinking it all in like it was his favorite thing he’d ever tasted. You rode it out on his mouth, hips grinding helplessly as your orgasm hit wave after wave.

When you finally stilled, breath ragged, Chris pulled back slowly—chin soaked, lips swollen, eyes wrecked. He looked like he was in awe. Like he was the lucky one.

“Did I…?” he whispered.

You grabbed his wrist and tugged him up the bed, kissing him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“You did,” you murmured. “You good little thing.”

And Chris—red-faced and shivering—just nodded, burying his face in your neck.

“…You can ruin me anytime.”

hollyyyyy i want to write more of this hehehehehehehehe

i can confirm this is exactly how chris would act.

@cursed-carmine dividers

[cocosweetie]

𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇: you think chris’s too tired to touch you—until he catches you trying to do it yourself and shows you exactly why his fingers are better. | WC: 1.7K

The room was almost silent—only the low hum of the heater and the quiet breaths of the man sleeping beside you filled the space. Chris laid beside you on his back, one arm loosely draped over the blanket, lips parted just slightly, his lashes brushing the top of his cheeks. He looked serene like that, completely undone by exhaustion, the usual lines of tension in his brow softened to nothing. His hair was still damp from the shower he’d taken just before collapsing into bed, and the scent of his shampoo lingered faintly between the sheets.

You’d watched him fall asleep only moments after his head hit the pillow, his fingers twitching slightly before stilling. God, he was beautiful when he slept—too beautiful. And maybe it was that stillness, or the softness of his breath on your shoulder, or the warmth of his body beside yours, but your chest ached with quiet longing, a pulse of desire humming low in your stomach before you could stop it.

You hadn’t meant to let yourself get worked up tonight. Chris had been so tired — he’d spent the whole day helping Nick clean out the garage, carried boxes up and down the stairs for hours, and spent the evening helping Matt build new shelves for his room, all without complaint, despite how his shoulders ached and his eyelids drooped by dinner. You hadn’t even dared to initiate anything earlier; it would’ve felt selfish, you thought.

You’d kissed his temple, run your fingers through his hair, and told him how proud you were of him before he fell asleep in your shared bed. That should have been enough. And yet—now that you were lying next to him, wrapped in the heat of his presence, surrounded by the familiar weight of his scent and the shape of his body under the sheets—you couldn’t help the way your thighs pressed together, the way your skin burned with need. Watching him sleep only made it worse. The soft rise and fall of his chest, the slight part in his lips, the muscle twitch in his jaw—it all felt unfair, how easily he could turn you on without even trying.

You tried to ignore it, biting your lip and shifting onto your side to create a little space between your hips and his. But the ache only grew more pronounced. It felt like a kind of cruel irony—how badly you wanted him when he was clearly too tired to give. So, without fully thinking it through, you slid your hand beneath the covers and down between your legs, fingers hesitant at first, brushing over the waistband of your sleep shorts. You waited—listened to make sure his breathing stayed even—before slipping your hand inside. You gasped softly at how wet you already were, slick pooling between your thighs, your body too eager for your mind to keep up. Your fingertips found your clit and circled gently, trying to mimic the pace Chris usually used, trying to channel the memory of his longer fingers moving between your legs in those unhurried, devastating strokes. But it wasn’t the same.

Your hand felt too small, your reach too short. You arched your hips slightly for better access, biting your lip hard enough to leave an imprint, trying to keep quiet. But the pressure wasn’t deep enough, and you couldn’t quite get the right rhythm. You rubbed faster, trying to make up for it, and a small, helpless moan slipped from your mouth before you could stop it. You stilled instantly, heart thundering, listening. Chris hadn’t stirred. At least, not at first. Encouraged, you kept going—whimpering softly now, frustrated by how close you felt and how far away release remained. You slipped your fingers lower, trying to push inside, but again—your hand wasn’t enough. And then you felt it—the slow shift of movement beside you.

Chris stirred. His hand twitched against the mattress, and a second later, his head turned toward you. His voice, thick with sleep, murmured low and quiet: “...Baby?”

You froze like you’d been caught doing something shameful, eyes wide, cheeks burning. Your hand stayed buried between your legs, fingers still slick and needy, but you didn’t move. Slowly, he blinked open his eyes, pupils adjusting to the dark, gaze finding your flushed face and the way your hips were subtly tilted toward him beneath the sheets. His brow furrowed, just slightly, and then his hand reached toward you, searching, warm—and settled over your belly.

“Are you…?” he started, but the realization came fast. His fingers tightened slightly, and his voice shifted—deeper, more awake. “Were you touching yourself?”

You nodded, throat dry, suddenly embarrassed. “You were asleep,” you murmured. “I didn’t want to wake you. You’ve been so tired, and—” You hesitated, glancing down. “—mine aren’t as long. I couldn’t reach the way you do.”

Chris stared at you for a moment longer, his breath catching quietly in his throat. His expression softened into something unreadable—something between love and possession and stunned, tender awe. And then he was moving, slowly pushing himself up onto one elbow, the other hand sliding beneath the covers without hesitation. “Say that again,” he whispered, voice rough. His hand found yours between your legs and gently coaxed it away. “Tell me what you said.”

You swallowed, your voice barely audible now. “Yours are longer.”

A low, breathless sound left his throat—half groan, half chuckle—and then his fingers were pushing into the wet heat between your legs like they belonged there. “Damn right they are,” he murmured, his mouth brushing against your ear now, his hand moving slow against your clit. “You should’ve woken me, baby. You think I wouldn’t want to take care of you? Even in my sleep, I’d want to touch you.”

Your head tipped back against the pillow, legs parting further beneath the blankets. He curled his fingers inside you and dragged a moan straight from your chest, the sound muffled against his shoulder as he shifted closer. “You’re already soaked,” he breathed, almost in disbelief. “All for me, huh?” You nodded, barely coherent now as his fingers thrust deeper, working you open with that perfect pressure you’d tried and failed to replicate yourself. His lips brushed down your neck, open-mouthed kisses replacing apology. “Next time,” he whispered, “you wake me. No matter how tired I am. I’ll always want to touch you.”

Chris’s fingers moved with the kind of slow certainty that made your mind go soft and your body tighten with need. He knew you too well—knew exactly how to angle his hand, how to stroke your clit with the perfect rhythm while his other fingers curled inside you in slow, deliberate thrusts. He didn’t rush. Even now, with sleep still thick in his voice and his body heavy with fatigue, his entire focus was you—your breathy whimpers, the way your hips rolled helplessly into his hand, the way your thighs trembled under the duvet. He kissed your shoulder, soft and open-mouthed, while his wrist flexed between your legs, every stroke deeper than the last. “There,” he murmured, almost reverently, when he felt the way you clenched around him. “Right there, yeah? That’s your spot, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

You could barely answer. Your fingers scrabbled to hold onto something—anything—and landed on his wrist, the one wearing that familiar metal bracelet he never took off. The chain was cold, biting against your inner thigh, a delicious contrast to the heat pooling low in your belly. Your hand gripped him tightly, not to stop him—God, no—but to ground yourself as his fingers dragged across that devastating spot again and again. You moaned brokenly into his neck, thighs falling wider apart, completely unable to control the sounds spilling from your lips. His bracelet shifted slightly with each thrust, dragging a shiver across your skin, the metal brushing against your sensitive flesh like a brand. It was a reminder that it was him doing this—Christopher—the man who’d fallen asleep beside you and still woke up just to take care of your body like it was the only thing he lived for.

He didn’t stop. If anything, his pace got more focused—two fingers curling hard, perfectly inside you, pressing into that exact bundle of nerves that made your legs shake. “That’s it, baby,” he rasped, lips against your jaw now, voice gravel-edged from sleep and arousal. “You feel that? Right there. I want you to come for me—come on my fingers. Let me feel you.” The tone in his voice had shifted—still loving, still tender—but deeper now, laced with that possessive edge he only ever let show when he was making you fall apart. The pleasure crested fast and high, your back arching, thighs clenching around his hand as your orgasm crashed over you like a wave. You sobbed his name, your hand gripping his bracelet tighter as your walls pulsed around his fingers, helpless and wrung out, entirely lost in the moment.

Chris held you through it, slowing his hand but never pulling away, working you gently through the aftershocks until your hips stopped twitching and your breathing leveled into shaky exhales. He pressed kisses to your face, your temple, your cheek, your lips—soft murmurs falling between each one. “Good girl… so good for me… always so pretty when you come,” he whispered, the praise low and endless. His hand finally slid from between your legs, soaked and glistening, and he didn’t hesitate to lick his fingers clean, groaning softly at the taste of you before pulling you flush against his chest. The bracelet on his wrist clinked faintly against your thigh again as he wrapped his arm around you, the metal still cool, a silent echo of the pleasure it had accompanied.

You melted into him, face tucked into his neck, legs tangled with his under the sheets. Chris’s hand rubbed lazy, comforting circles on your back now, his other arm tight around your waist like he never wanted to let you go. He kissed your forehead, a deep, slow breath exhaling against your hair. “next time,” he murmured, voice sleepy again, “you wake me sooner. Deal?” And all you could do was nod into his skin, your heart still racing, your body still humming from the feeling of him inside you—even if it was just his fingers.

snoopy divider by: @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: this took forever to finish omg thank you so much for reading, it genuinely means the world. i seriously appreciate every interaction—likes, comments, reblogs, anything. i proofread this over and over (probably to an obsessive degree lol), so i really hope it comes across the way i imagined.

also! i ended up separating the paragraphs more and making them a bit longer in this one—if that made it harder to engage with, i’ll definitely keep that in mind and avoid doing it in the future. this is my first long-form fic on this account, so thank you again for being here <3

tags: @emeraldsturns @zenithsturniolo @sturnsblogs @sirensdollesque

[cocosweetie]

BAMBI!READER'S FIRST TIME GETTING HIGH WITH PUPPY!CHRIS. . .

Chris thought that he'd never fold. Even though he's just one year older, he treats you like a kid. He wanted to keep you away from this stuff—But, you have those plump lips and those big brown doe eyes, and that pretty little pout—

Point is, you got him bad.

It's late, but not too late. At Chris's house because you and Chris didn't even wanna attempt to do this at your house.

You hum, already snacking on the strawberries on that Chris bought for munchies. "What does it feel like?" You tilt your head, staring up at Chris with those big ole eyes of yours. "...like you're floating." He murmurs, picking up the mocktails with a peach salt rim that you insisted you guys make.

"Like... good floaty? Or—"

"Relax, okay? No one's home you can freak out however much you need to—" Your eyes widen immediately, speak muffled by the strawberry in your mouth. "I'm gonna freak out?!" Chris shakes his head. How is he this bad at explaining shit?

"You're gonna be fine, Bambi. You're not gonna freak out, okay? Now, please, these cups are killing me!" Chris says, desperately trying to move past you.

A gummy. 20mg. Split perfectly down the middle to share with Chris. You couldn't get over the taste, immediately sipping down most of your mocktail to get over the bad flavor in your mouth.

Chris giggles, "Not funny." You glare, "Does it always taste this bad?" Chris just shrugs. "It's a gummy with weed in it, Bubba."

You roll your eyes, "The package said blue raspberry, should taste like blue raspberry."

Chris expected you to be talkative, to constantly be on him, but you're not. Well, you are all over him. Just not talking. His face has never been so red, biting his bottom lip, trying his best to stop the blood from rushing to his as you kiss all over his face.

"So cute, Chrissy," You slur, eyes all red and lip jutted out. "Like a little puppy." You coo. How is he supposed to form words with you like this? Practically straddling his lap and your hands cupping his face?

He squirms once he realizes that the brown tinted lip gloss you always wear is definitely leaving marks, "Chrissy," You whine, crawling further into his lap. "Just wanna kiss all your cute little face."

"You're so werid." Chris blurts out, unable to think of anything else to say in this moment. You giggle, staring down at him. "You love me."

"I do." And it feels like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

It honestly feels like a little more than that, but Chris is too high to even try to unpack that.

"....you give me cuteness aggression, wanna bite you."

"Werido."

a/n: this is cringe but this is all that's been on my mind the past few days<3 also wrote this while listening to $boys sooooo ig... thank you axel for putting me on.

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @domizmez @drewswife @strnilolover @sirensdollesque @courta13 @pinkmattrr @mattslilies @sturns-mermaid @bluetalia @pair-of-pantaloons @y2kstarr @sugarraez @sweeethrt @moond0llie @ambi-squirrelly @wastelandzella @applecidersturniolo @riasturns @iloveduckssm @oopsiedaisydeer @sturnsflirt @cayleeuhithinknott @h3arts4nat @sweetsturns @pink1man

[cocosweetie]

home late .

chris sturniolo x reader .

angsty (?) start , sweet ending , smutty everything else .

chris opened the front door and climbed the stairs. it had been a relatively fun, but long night with his friends. his girlfriend was on the couch, looking up at him as he walked in.

it was late– late enough that nick and matt were already asleep. for the past few months, his girlfriend had been more or less living with them. she still had her own place, but neither of them liked sleeping alone, so they always ended up together, no matter whose apartment it was.

he said that he wanted her to stay there but that he wouldn’t be home for most of the day. he promised to be back by midnight, give or take. by now it was well past that, his phone had died hours ago, and without a charger, he hadn’t been able to call or text, and she was pissed.

she didn’t say anything right away, just stared at him, eyebrows raised, arms crossed, the tv still playing something no one was really watching.

“my phone died,” he said quietly. “i couldn’t find a charger, i didn’t mean to disappear.” he walked closer to the couch.

she sighed  “you could’ve figured something out. borrowed one. asked someone. did you not want them to know i was waiting? because i was waiting.” her voice wasn’t loud, she didn’t like to yell, and even if she did, it was late, she was tired, and his brothers were asleep.

he nodded, running a hand through his hair as he sat down on the edge of the couch, leaving just enough space between them. “i didn’t think to ask someone, i’m sorry. that’s it though– there was a lot going on, it’s not like they don’t know we’re together.”

she rolled her eyes. “whatever.”

he got closer to her, his hand on her thigh. “‘m sorry.” he repeated. “really. it won’t happen again, i didn’t mean to upset you.” he moved his body down so he was looking up at her.

her eyes met his. “i know you didn’t.” she pursed her lips.

“i missed you.” he said, looking into her eyes intently.

“nice try.” she turned her face away from him.

“i did!” he said, sitting up, “was thinkin’ about you all daaay.”

she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, trying to hold onto the edge of her annoyance, but it was slipping fast. he saw it in the way her lips twitched, just slightly, like they couldn’t decide whether to stay firm or curve into a smile. she ran her tongue over her top teeth, her mouth remaining closed.

“yeah?” she asked, her voice cool but curious.

“yeah,” he nodded, edging even closer, bringing an arm over her shoulder.

she didn’t lean into him, but she didn’t refuse his arm around her. he took it as an okay to nuzzle his face in her neck, placing gentle kisses all around it. 

he hummed into her neck before he spoke. “love you.”

“i know, chris.” she said simply. he laughed softly and continued trailing kisses up her neck.

after a moment he spoke. “tell me you love me too,” he mumbled into her skin. he moved his kisses up to her ear. “please,” he whispered, almost whimpering.

“i- mm.” she gasped as he nipped at her earlobe. “chris-” she tried to speak but he spoke again before she could.

“i need to hear you say it, baby.” he whined.

“love you too.” she said immediately. he repositioned himself, bringing their lips together, his hands moved to her thighs and waist, the gentleness quickly being abandoned. 

chris moved closer so she was almost in his lap, their tongues intertwining, as her arms hung around his neck.

he pulled her fully onto his lap, his hands grabbing at her hips and ass, and his kisses becoming more urgent

“mmph-” she moaned into his mouth. “you want me, huh?” she breathed out between kisses. he let out a low, quiet, groan, moving his kisses back to her neck, sucking a bit.

“yes,” they were both breathless, but he promptly went back to working on her neck, his hands sliding under her shirt. “please. been wanting you all day..” he said, and her back moved against his hands, leaning into his touch.

she quirked a brow. “you haven’t even been here and you’ve been thinking about me?” 

he nodded. “can’t stop,” he said against her neck. “ever.”

she moved her hands to his face, pulling him to look at her. “aren’t you feeling sweet,” she hooked her right arm over him again and brought their faces back together. 

he smiled against her lips and deepend the kiss once again, rubbing his hands up and down her back. she brought her hand down to his dick and pressed him over his jeans.

he let out a soft gasp and leaned his head back a little, his breath catching in his throat. “oh fuck–” he managed to get out.

she chuckled at his reaction. he looked at her with wide eyes. “don’t laugh at me.” he whined, his breath quickening. as a response she continued pressing him, and he let out a low moan, only causing her to giggle again.

"stop– mm, stop laughing." he repeated, his body tense under her touch. every sound he made seemed to encourage her more, and he could see it in her eyes - she was enjoying this. as she continued her ministrations, pressing down harder. his head fell forward, resting on her shoulder as he groaned softly against her neck.

"i can't help it...," she whispered, her voice low and seductive. he could feel the heat radiating from her body, her breath soft and ticklish on his ear as she spoke. she continued to tease him, moving her hand excruciatingly slowly, and he could feel his self-control slipping.

just then, he suddenly picked her up, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for support. “chris!” the smirk on his face made her heart race.

“shh, baby, my brothers are asleep.” he covered her mouth with one hand as he carried her with the other, all the way to his room downstairs.

his door was open when they entered and he closed it with his foot, setting her down on the bed in an instant.

he leaned over her, his body caging her in. his hands roamed over her, tracing every curve with practiced ease.

he leaned down to her ear, his voice low and rough. "i want you. i need you. now." he was desperate. his hands moved back under her shirt, his touch leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

he brought his mouth to hers, the kiss filled with hunger and lust. his lips moved over hers, his tongue seeking entrance once again. she parted her lips for him, melting into the kiss, her hands tangling in his hair.

he broke the kiss only to remove her shirt, his eyes roaming over her bare skin with unabashed admiration. “shit, baby.” he breathed out, as if it were his first time seeing her.

she could feel his gaze on her, hot and heavy. his words went straight to her core, her body reacting instantly. he made her feel desired and wanted, and she loved every second of it. she needed more. he knew it,  and he gave it to her.

he moved his hand downwards, feeling her through her shorts, and when he pressed hard enough, he felt a subtle dampness. his eyes darkened at the discovery. she needed him just as badly as he needed her. he let out a sharp exhale, feeling the warmth under his fingers. "you're ready for me, huh?" he said, his voice thick with lust. he moved his hand a little, applying more pressure, his touch slow and teasing, knowing it would drive her crazy.

“mm. yes, please, chris.” she begged. how the tables had turned. unlike her, however, he immediately obliged, pulling down her shorts and unbuckling his own belt with urgency. he pulled his pants and boxers down in one movement, taking off his shirt a moment after.

he positioned himself over her, his body settling between her legs. she could feel his dick against her, and she shivered at the contact. he looked at her, his gaze burning, and she nodded, giving him permission. he pushed into her, slowly at first, and with a low moan. giving her time to adjust. but she was impatient, her body arching off the bed, desperate for him. 

he gave in to her need, his pace quickening, his movements becoming more urgent. her moans were like music to his ears, fueling his own ecstasy. she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him even closer, her nails digging into his back. they were a sweaty, tangled mess.

this was what they both needed, the raw desire for each other. they moved together, bodies in perfect sync, their pleasure building with every passing second. her hands roamed over him, touching, grasping, claiming.

 his lips found hers, their kiss desperate and sloppy. there was no time for words, only incoherent moans and strangled gasps. they were completely consumed by each other, everything else faded away.

he was getting close, and he wanted to bring her there with him. he moved faster, pushing deeper, angling his hips the way he knew drove her crazy. her body responded, so did her voice. her movements became more erratic, her voice pitching itself higher. he could feel her tightening around him, and he knew she was close too. his vision was starting to go hazy, his mind completely clouded by pleasure. 

her muscles clenched around him, and he reached down between the two of them, his fingers finding her clit, his touch precise. her body trembled under him. she felt completely overwhelmed by the pleasure he was giving her. his breathing was heavy and ragged, now he could tell he was just as close as he was. "oh god, don't stop," she gasped, her words coming out in labored pants.

he had one hand on the headboard, steadying himself, continuously rubbing her clit with the other as he pounded into her. he pulled her closer, their bodies as close as they could possibly be. her moans became louder and louder, she moved her hips in sync with his, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor. she wanted all of him, and he was giving her everything. her hands found their way to his face, her lips meeting his in a desperate kiss. the words that escaped her were incoherent, a mix of his name and pleas for more.

"'m close, 'm so close, chris." she spoke through her moans.

he could hear the edge to her voice, and he let out a guttural moan, his head falling forward, "me too, baby-- ah--" he panted, his movements growing sloppy. he could feel the tension coiled deep within them both, ready to snap at any moment.

her back arched off the bed, and he could see the sheen of sweat glistening on her skin. he was losing control, he could feel her walls clenching around him, and he knew it couldn’t be more than a few seconds before they both came undone.

"ah- fuck– come with me, baby-" he gasped out. the pressure built to a breaking point, ready to crash over them. “please, let go with me," he whispered, his words thick with need.

yes, it was what he said, but god, the way he said it. it was all she needed. it pushed her over the edge. she could feel it. the wave of pleasure cresting, about to crash down over her. she gasped out his name, her body tensing as it overcame her.

he could feel her clenching around him, her body shaking with release, and it was his undoing. the sight of her, lost in ecstasy, tipped him over the edge. he groaned, his hips stuttering as he found his own release. he pulled out and buried his face in the crook of her neck, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

their bodies trembled in the aftermath. they lay there for a moment, their breaths coming in ragged gasps, their hearts pounding in unison. he lifted his head, looking down at her, a slight smirk on his face.

"you're so fuckin’ pretty, you know that?" he said softly, his thumb tracing over her flushed cheek. his touch was gentle, a contrast to the intensity they had just shared. she looked up at him, almost not hearing him.

she said nothing, only giggled. she leaned into him, her laughter fading into a quiet sigh. he leaned to kiss her again, slower this time, and she just curled closer, her fingers resting lightly on his chest. he wrapped his arms around her, holding her like she was something fragile.

eventually, the room went quiet, their breaths slowed. somewhere between the warmth, they both drifted off, tangled up in each other.

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/ an / if u couldn't tell this was not proofread and was written over the course of a few days . also it's currently one am as i'm posting this . hope u liked it regardless

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