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Get to know rapper!chris x singer!reader!!

Prove It - Chris Sturniolo

Summary: Chris doesn't think Y/N can handle him Warnings: sexual content, smut, p in v, backshots, unprotected sex (please just no), rough!dom!chris, making out Word count: 1.3k

Chris leans back against the headboard, arms crossed over his chest, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips.

“You really think you can handle me, babygirl?” His voice is low, dripping with challenge, eyes dark as they rake over you.

Your heart pounds, but you refuse to back down. “I don’t think. I know.”

You crawl closer, hands settling on his thighs, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. “You’re the one who doesn’t know what to do with me.”

Chris lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Oh yeah? That’s cute.” He reaches up, fingers threading into your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze. His pupils are blown, his lips slightly parted. “So prove it.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t hesitate. You shift closer, your fingers tracing along his jawline before sliding into his hair, tugging just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath.

Chris tilts his head into your touch, his smirk faltering for a split second before returning with even more intensity.

“You always talk big, ma. But I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.” His voice is a murmur now, his grip on your hair tightening just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You tilt your head, a smirk of your own forming. “That sounds like fear, Chris.” His brows raise, amusement flickering across his face. “Fear?”

He scoffs, pulling you even closer. “Nah, babygirl. I just don’t think you realize what happens when you play this game with me.”

“Then stop talking and show me.”

Chris watches you for a long second, his expression unreadable, before his smirk fades into something darker, something more serious. His fingers tighten in your hair, his free hand sliding down to grip your waist.

“Alright, ma,” he mutters, voice rough. “Just remember—you asked for this.”

His grip on your waist shifts, fingers pressing firmly as he guides you down onto the mattress beneath him. You let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping the sheets as he hovers over you, eyes dark with intent. The air between you crackles with tension, his gaze locked onto yours, watching every tiny movement, every breath you take.

He likes seeing you flustered, loves knowing that no matter how confident you pretend to be, you still react to him.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” he teases, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “You’re already looking a little nervous, babygirl.”

You swallow hard but refuse to back down. “You talk too much, Chris.”

His smirk returns, full of amusement, but there’s something else there too—something deeper, something hungry.

“Yeah? Then do something about it.”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of hesitating. Instead, you tug at the hem of his shirt, slipping it up over his head and tossing it aside before running your cold hands over his bare skin. His breath stutters slightly, and you catch the way his muscles twitch under your fingertips. He’s always in control, always the one teasing, but now he’s watching you like he doesn’t know what you’ll do next.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you tease, leaning in, your lips ghosting over his jaw. “Still think I can’t handle you?”

Chris exhales sharply, his hands gripping your hips. “You’re playing a dangerous game, ma.” His voice is rougher now, lower, his control slipping just a little.

“Good,” you whisper, lips brushing against his skin.

“Then stop holding back.”

Chris curses under his breath, his restraint snapping as he flips you onto your stomach, pinning you beneath him. He stares down at you, eyes burning with something intense, something all-consuming.

“Alright,” he breathes, leaning down so his lips are barely an inch from your ear. “Let’s see if you can handle me, baby.”

“Get on your knees for me.”

Your breath stutters at the command, a slow shiver rolling down your spine. You shift onto your hands and knees, the mattress dipping beneath you as you move. Chris hums in approval, his hands ghosting over the small of your back before trailing lower, squeezing just enough to make you arch into his touch.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough, filled with something possessive. He takes his time, his fingers teasing at the hem of your shirt before slowly dragging it up over your body. The fabric pools around your shoulders before he tugs it off entirely, leaving you in nothing but the heat of his gaze.

Chris presses a kiss to your spine, slow and deliberate, his hands exploring every inch of newly exposed skin. He loves this, loves taking his time despite how desperate he is. His lips trail upward, following the curve of your back as his fingers work at the clasp of your bra, letting it slip away just as easily.

He groans softly, hands sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing over your ribs. “You won’t be able to handle this, ma.” His breath is warm against your skin, his voice thick.

You turn your head slightly, catching his dark gaze over your shoulder. “You really underestimate me.”

Chris doesn’t hesitate this time. His hands move lower, hooking into the waistband of your shorts, dragging them down inch by inch, making sure you feel every moment of it. He wants to savor this, wants you just as desperate as he is.

His own patience snaps as he rids himself of his clothes in a frenzy, the fabric tossed carelessly aside. He presses himself against you, the heat of his body overwhelming, his breath coming quicker. He grips your hips, his lips pressing against your shoulder before trailing up to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“You look so good like this,” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked. “All mine.”

His hands roam over you, mapping every inch of your skin, his touch burning, claiming. Every movement, every whisper against your skin, pulls you deeper into him, into the intensity of the moment. He tilts your chin to the side, pressing his lips to yours in a heated kiss, fingers digging into your hips like he can’t bear to let go.

“You wanted to prove yourself, babygirl?” he rasps, dragging his lips over your jaw. “Then take me like a good girl and be completely silent.”

Chris takes his time sliding his boxers down, his movements slow, deliberate, as if he’s making sure you watch every second of it. He inches forward, slowly pushing himself in. Your forehead falls back against the pillows in front you, eyes fluttering shut. 

He begins moving his hips back and forth slow at first, until he sucks in a breath, his grip harsh as he begins slamming into you at a vigorous pace. Your eyes roll back, your jaw dropping at the incredible feeling. The headboard starts rocking into the wall, leaving loud bangs that Chris has no doubt his brothers hear. 

"Fucking take it." He groans between his teeth. Chris lifts his palm before landing a sharp smack on your ass, almost causing you to whimper. You bite your lip, trying your best to hold back your moans as his tip repeatedly hits your insides.

Chris picks up the pace again, pounding into you faster, silently hoping everyone would hear the sound of his skin slapping against your ass.

"Bet they can hear us, ma," he whispers, voice dripping with satisfaction. His grip on your hips tightens as he pulls you back to meet each thrust, the intensity making your fingers clench the sheets beneath you. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoes through the room, shameless and unrelenting.

"Let 'em know who you belong to."You start to feel your orgasm build up, the knot in your stomach slowly tightening. Your walls tighten around Chris's dick as he moves in and out of your pussy, your moans getting harder and harder to hold back.You won't let him win.

"You still think you can take more?"

Chris growls, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrusts even deeper, testing your resolve.

"Because I'm not done with you yet."

Author's note: so ummm what do we think? I've never written smut before so this is probably ass but please let me know what you think and if I should write more

blehblehbleh735's

𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑰𝒕

𝑻𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒅

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Touch Starved

Summary: Chris has been away for weeks and when he finally returns, he can't keep his hands to himself. Warnings: suggestive material, use of y/n Word count: 700

It had been two weeks since Chris had left for tour, and the separation was starting to take its toll. The messages, the calls, the video chats—they were all sweet, but nothing compared to being in the same room as him, feeling his presence, his warmth, his touch. The absence of him was starting to gnaw at you.

When Chris finally came back home, you knew it wouldn't be long before he was at your door, his scent and warmth filling the room, replacing the emptiness he'd left behind.

The moment you opened the door, he was on you, arms pulling you into his chest with a sense of urgency that sent your heart racing.

His lips pressed against yours in a kiss so desperate, so full of need that it made you dizzy.

He stepped back, his eyes searching your face, but his hands didn’t leave your body, tracing the familiar curves like he was reacquainting himself with something he had been starved for. His voice was thick with longing when he spoke, "I need you," he rasped. "I need you right now."

You swallowed hard, caught in the intensity of his gaze. "I thought you’d be tired," you whispered, though your body betrayed you, leaning into him, craving the connection as much as he did.

Chris shook his head, a soft growl escaping his lips. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Not once.” His hands roamed down to your waist, his thumbs brushing the skin exposed by your shirt, leaving shivers in their wake. "I need to feel you."

The urgency in his voice and the way his hands tightened on you made it impossible to resist. You could feel his need, raw and undeniable. His lips found your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, his hands pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

You let out a breath, trying to catch your bearings, but the moment he kissed you again, all coherent thoughts left your mind. Your body responded instinctively, pressing into him, hands running through his hair, pulling him closer.

"Missed you so much," he muttered between kisses, his voice was strained, as if saying the words was the only way to hold himself together.

You didn’t need words. You could feel the ache in his touch, the desperation in the way his hands gripped you. The space between you had been too wide for too long, and now he was closing it, pouring all his pent up frustration, longing, and love into every movement.

He pushed you gently against the wall, lips still capturing yours with intensity. His hands slid under your shirt, skimming over your skin, as if reacquainting himself with every inch of you.

"Let me love you Y/N," he whispered, voice trembling with need. "Let me remind you how much you mean to me."

With a soft sigh, you nodded, already moving to pull him closer, hands desprately undoing the buttons of his shirt. The moment was dizzying—like the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of you, craving the touch you had both been deprived of.

As the minutes passed, the urgency only grew. Clothes were discarded, and soon there was nothing but the heat of his body against yours, his hands everywhere, caressing, kneading, claiming.

Each touch was like a promise, each kiss a reminder of everything you had both missed.

Chris’s lips found your ear, his voice low and rough. "I'm going to make up for every second I’ve been gone," he murmured, as his hands guided you toward the bed. "I'm going to show you just how much I need you."

But now that he was back, he wasn’t going to let anything stop him.

guys im sorry I would go further but I am terrified to write smut because it would be so bad. I guess if anyone has tips you should share them🤠

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GUYS

part 3 of Scarlet today

About Me!!

☾✰Luna✰☽

Brunnette, green eyes, Italian and American and i only write about the sturniolo triplets

Music: Dominic Fike, Taylor Swift, Sabrina Carpenter, Arctic Monkeys, Tyler The Creator, The Neighborhood, TV Girl, Clairo

Youtubers: Sturniolo Triplets, Kallmekris, Tara Yummy, Sam and Colby, Jake and Johnnie, etc

Shows: Stranger Things, Bluey, Bridgerton, WandaVision

Movies: 10 Things I Hate About You, Scream, Clueless

Likes: Light blue, Dr Pepper, pasta, stars

Dislikes: Slow walkers, Baby Shark, idiot drivers, etc

i know i should be writing scarlet instead of this (i promise im cooking tho) but how much would u guys enjoy like all the stuff behind y/n and chris?? I'm thinking album covers and spotify, instagram and stuff.

♡Scarlet - Part 2♡

Warnings: use of Y/N, toxic management team Word count: idk

Y/N was already exhausted before the session even started.

She had spent the entire morning in back-to-back meetings—new sponsorship deals, upcoming tour plans, and another lecture from her team about how important this collaboration was for her image.

"A crossover hit could expand your audience," they told her. "And Chris has a very loyal fanbase. If we do this right, it’ll be huge for both of you."

Translation: Play nice. Be the perfect, charming Y/N. Don’t mess this up.

So here she was, standing outside the recording booth, fixing her lip gloss in the reflection of the soundboard while the producer adjusted the levels.

Chris still wasn’t here.

She checked the time. Twenty minutes late.

Of course.

Not that she was surprised. She had heard plenty about Chris Sturniolo. The industry’s favorite bad boy. Always in some Twitter beef, showing up to interviews in sweats, saying whatever he wanted with zero filter. His fans ate it up.

Y/N? Not so much.

She liked professionalism. Structure. Respect for people’s time.

And right now, Chris wasn’t giving her any of that.

The door swung open. She turned—and there he was.

Chris strolled in like he owned the place, hood up, chain glinting under the dim studio lights. His sneakers squeaked against the floor as he dropped onto the couch without a single hello.

"Look who finally decided to show up," the producer joked.

Chris smirked. "I had to finish my burrito bro. Priorities."

Y/N raised a brow. Seriously?

She hadn’t even spoken to him yet, and he was already infuriating.

Chris finally turned to her, his blue eyes scanning her from head to toe, taking in the perfectly styled outfit, the glossy lips, the tiny bow in her hair.

"You must be princess popstar," he said, voice dripping with amusement.

Y/N folded her arms. "You must be twenty minutes late."

Chris grinned. "Damn. Didn’t know you had a mouth on you."

The producer coughed, sensing the tension. "Alright let’s get started. Y/N you’ve heard the beat, right?"

She forced herself to focus, nodding as she slid into her professional mode. "Yeah. I wrote some ideas last night."

Chris leaned back. "Let’s hear em miss perfection."

She shot him a look before grabbing the mic.

The second she started singing, the entire room changed.

Soft but powerful. A melody that wrapped around the beat effortlessly, like it had always belonged there. Every note was precise, every lyric carefully crafted.

Chris watched, arms draped over the back of the couch, actually listening now.

When she finished, she set the mic down and turned to him. "Your turn."

Chris stood, stretching before walking into the booth. He didn’t have a notebook. No pre-written lyrics. Just confidence.

Then he started rapping.

And Y/N had to admit—he was good.

Not just good. Insane.

His flow was effortless, his words sharp and unfiltered, carrying this grit that made everything feel real. He wasn’t trying to sound perfect. He was just him.

By the time he stepped out, the energy in the room had completely shifted.

Chris smirked, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "What cat got your tongue?"

Y/N snapped out of it, rolling her eyes. "It was alright."He chuckled.

"You liked it."

She didn’t answer. She actually did like it.

But she wasn’t about to let him know that.

The producer clapped his hands together, cutting through the tension. "Alright, I think we’ve got something solid here. You two actually sound insane together."

Y/N turned back toward the soundboard, listening as the track replayed. Their voices blended too well. Her smooth, delicate melodies wrapped around Chris’s rougher, effortless flow in a way that just worked. The contrast was sharp, but somehow, they fit.

She hated that she liked it.

Chris grabbed a water bottle and leaned against the wall, watching her as she studied the track.

"You always this serious?" he asked.

Y/N didn’t look at him. "I care about my work."

Chris grinned. "Damn. You act like I don’t."

"You showed up twenty minutes late and smelled like Chipotle."

He laughed, taking a sip of water. "Fair point." Then after a beat, "Alright miss perfection, what’s up? We making a hit or what?"

Y/N sighed, finally glancing at him. "The song’s good."

Chris raised a brow. "Just good?"

She shrugged. "We’ll see after the final mix."

Chris smirked, stepping a little closer. Close enough that she caught the faintest whiff of his cologne—something fresh, a little sharp, something that felt too effortless.

"You always this hard to impress?" he mused.

Y/N met his gaze, lifting her chin slightly. "You always this cocky?"

His smirk deepened. "Yes."

A challenge. A dare.

Y/N refused to rise to it. Instead, she grabbed her phone and turned toward the producer. "I’ll check my schedule for the next session."

Chris let her go, but she felt his eyes on her the entire time.As she walked out of the studio, she ignored the way her heartbeat felt just a little unsteady.

This collaboration was going to be a problem.

Tags: @pvssychicken @franticroads @sparklybtch

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𝑺𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒚𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 (𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓!𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒙 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓!𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓)

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