“see?” he murmurs, like it’s proof of something. like you’re supposed to know how deep it hits when he presses right there, drawing back all slow, feeling you clench around him.
“told you… two’s better.”
your back arches, but his other hand presses firm on your stomach—holding you down while his fingers fuck up into you with that patient rhythm he knows drives you out your damn mind.
“look at me.”
you try. you really do. but your lashes flutter and your eyes roll, and that makes him laugh soft through his nose.
“no... eyes on me, honey. c’mon… how’s it feel?”
your mouth falls open—nothing comes out.
“hm?” he tilts his head, eyes flicking down to where his fingers disappear inside your pussy, his palm n wrist glistening right along with it. “can’t answer now?”
he leans in, breath warm against your cheek, still moving his fingers deep.
“you said this was your favorite… show me how much ylove it.”
and you do—hips rocking up to meet each thrust of his hand, thighs trembling, one arm thrown over your face like it’ll save you from how good he’s fucking you with just two fingers.
guys idk if anyone else does this but every night i pick a victim to stalk on tumblr and today’s victim is @sosasturns (not stalk as in find out info on your fam n shit like stalk as i go through every fic and post and everything on the blog)
۪ ݁ ✴︎ RIDE IT LIKE YOU HATE IT⸝⸝ shoota!chris ── in which chris gives reader a lil’ motivation to ride... fic. ꒰ warning: gun play ꒱
you’re pissed, still talking shit under your breath, even with your back to him, sitting heavy in his lap. his legs spread wide on the edge of the bed, yours caging his in. he’s leaned back on one elbow, the other hand lazy on your hip, watching the way you move like he got all the time in the world.
“why the fuck you even ridin’ me if you so mad?” chris drawls, voice low and amused, like your attitude’s nothing but background noise.
“’cause you showed up,” you snap, rolling your hips slow just to spite him. “and you don’t listen.”
he clicks his tongue, watching the way you move like he’s bored. “nah, you don’t listen. look at you, actin’ mad, moving all slow n shit like you punishin’ me. i still got the pussy, mama—you the one lookin’ dumb.”
you glare at him, but the mirror across the room catches you off guard—your reflection staring back, hair falling in your face, his hands big against your skin.
before you can look away, cold metal presses against the small of your back. your breath stutters.
“keep your head up,” chris drawls, lips brushing the side of your neck. the gun stays there, steady as his grip slides up to your throat.
“ain’t nobody stoppin’ you but you, mama. you mad, right? prove it. ride me like it.”
your hands tighten on his knees, chest heaving, but you don’t move fast enough for him. his palm squeezes at your neck, light pressure making your pulse jump under his fingers.
“c’mon,” he coaxes, tone dipping sweet even as the edge cuts through. “don’t get quiet on me. you love this shit. love me.”
you hate how easy the words pull you under, how quick your body listens even when your pride don’t. the reflection in the mirror only makes it worse—makes you see everything you don’t wanna admit out loud.
his thumb strokes the side of your neck, slow and steady, even with his gun pressing firm against your back. “there you go,” he murmurs, smirk tugging at his lips when you finally sink down harder. “knew you wasn’t gon’ keep frontin’.”
your nails dig into his thighs when he shifts his hips up to meet you, the lazy drag of him inside you making your breath hitch. the mirror steals your focus again—you, bouncing slow, lips parted, his hand flexing around your throat like he owns you.
“look,” chris hums, eyes hooded, voice damn near a whisper. “mad ass still fuckin’ me… whole body tellin’ on you.” he taps the barrel lightly against your back, enough to make you shiver. “don’t run. want you to feel that shit.”
your pace falters, legs already shaking from the stretch, but his grip don’t let you stop. his palm squeezes tighter on your neck, head dipping so his mouth ghosts over your ear. “pick it up, mama. ride me like you s’posed to. you act tough but you love when i make you do it.”
the shame, the heat. it mixes until your thighs burn, your moans slipping out unsteady. every bounce has you clenching harder, every snap of his hips meeting yours dragging out sounds you can’t swallow down.
he groans low, finally sitting up so his chest presses against your back. the gun shifts with him, colder against your skin, but his mouth is hot and wet on your shoulder. “that’s it,” he breathes, words tangled in a curse, “fuck me jus’ like that. knew you was gonna.”
and when you catch your reflection again. his hand choking you up, your body giving in despite your anger.
۪ ݁ ✴︎ HOUSE TOUR ⸝⸝ chratt ── in which reader hires matt n chris for their services… insp. ꒰ warning: m/f/m threesome, tag teaming.. ꒱
you weren’t expecting them both. the text said “technician arriving between 1 and 3.” it didn’t say two identical brothers in matching blue shirts with “sturniolo services” ironed on the chest.
one held a toolbox. tattoo sleeve flexing as he stepped in first. the other had a clipboard. grin chewing at the corner of his lip like he knew you were staring harder than you should.
“kitchen, right?” matt asked. calm. like he’d been here before.
“yeah,” you said, leading them in. “been dripping for days. now it’s more like pouring. i had to put a pot under there.”
matt crouched down, opened the cabinet, and water began to splatter. his jaw ticked. “damn. pressure’s blown. pipe’s cracked.”
“need the shut-off,” chris muttered, dropping to a knee. he twisted the valve, muscles tightening against the snug shirt. when he leaned back on his heels, his shoulder brushed yours, deliberate. “where’s the room with the main lines?”
“down the hall,” you said, swallowing. “i could show you.”
you walked in front, pulse kicking, and you knew he was watching. halfway down, he glanced back at matt with a smirk. matt shook his head, like don’t start. but he kept working under the sink, leaving you and chris alone.
he followed you into the closet-sized utility room. you pointed at the pipework.
“here.”
chris crouched, knuckles wrapping the wrench. he looked up at you through his lashes, grin lazy. “tight fit, huh?”
your throat went dry.
your eyes cut to him, heartbeat thumping. he wasn’t looking at you—not directly—but the curve of his mouth said enough.
“just fix it,” you shot back.
his grin tugged wider. “don’t worry. i’m good with my hands.”
back in the kitchen, matt was drenched, shirt plastered to his chest.
“valve’s stripped,” he said, twisting the wrench with a grunt. “temporary patch, but it’s holding.”
“you’re soaked,” you blurted.
“comes with the job.”
“dryer’s free. i can throw it in.”
he hesitated a beat, then peeled the shirt off. slow. the fabric landed heavy and wet in your hands, leaving you staring at the ridges of his chest and the ink curling over his arm.
pipes patched. tools packed. but matt’s shirt still spun in the dryer, leaving the three of you in your living room, silence dragging.
you settled on the armchair. they took the couch—matt leaning back, chris sprawled, eyes never leaving you.
you kept catching both of them watching. finally, chris broke it.
“you’ve been eyein’ us all day,” he said, smirk sharp. “what’s on your mind?”
your pulse jumped. matt’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t look away.
“hey baby, it’s me… i know it’s pretty late… you’re probably asleep right now… i had a long day.. m’so tired…”
[yawn]
“wish you were here… wanna feel you next to me… miss having you in my bed, s’cold without you. you always run warm, y’know that? love cuddling up next to you… always smell so sweet, too… mm, like vanilla… n’ that lotion you put on before bed… makes me crazy.”
0:39
“miss you… wanna see you…”
[he sighs, the mic picking up the shift of his pillow as he turns, pressing his face into the cotton]
“was lookin’ at pictures of you earlier… the ones from last weekend, when you wore that little dress… fuck, sweetheart, y’looked so pretty. had me stuck—my girl’s so fuckin’ beautiful. kept thinkin’ about it all day. like—fuck, couldn’t get you outta my head… ‘was s’bad… mmh, missed you so bad…”
[there’s a long pause, the softest rustling as he settles further into the sheets. then, a slow inhale, like he’s breathing you in even from miles away]
2:30
[the rustling picks up, his tone still steady, but there’s a faint hitch in his breath, a quiet exhale like he’s getting a little too comfortable]
“been hard all night, baby… fuck, just thinking about you. can’t help it—your fault, y’know that? always do this to me. just wanna feel you…”
[his voice dips lower, his breathing heavier, but he keeps talking, working himself up as if you’re really there listening]
“mmf, baby… can practically… hmm.. feel your mouth on my dick—ohmygod.”
[his breath stutters, a low whine muffled into his pillow]
“fuuuckfuckfuck, been so hard f’you all night… couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout you—fuck, hon, your mouth… s’wet, so warm, takes me so good—mmm, my perfect girl, yeah?”
3:37
[the sheets rustle again, his hand moving slow, teasing himself like he’s imagining it’s you instead. his voice is lower now, thick with need, murmuring between little grunts, shifting as he works himself up]
“wish you were here t’help me, princess… wanna give you my load, wanna nut all in that pretty mouth… oh, mmmh, m’little cum slut, hm? you’d take it so good f’me, wouldn’t you? all of it—ahh fuckfuckfuck, baby, baby, m’so close, gonna make such a mess—”
4:11
“gonna—fuck—come for you like i always do… mmh… y-y’gonna let me, hm? mmm, you always do—ohmygod, want you to take it all f’me, hm, pleasepleaseplease—please… oh,”
4:21
[a sharp inhale, then a breathy moan, long and drawn out as his movements slow. the receiver picks up the shudder in his breath, the sticky wet sounds before it all settles into silence. just his heavy breathing now, coming down, fucked out]
4:48
[the mic barely catches the rasp in his voice when he speaks again, quiet, spent]
“love you… love you so much… m’so fuckin’ gone for you, baby. can’t wait to see you… call me when you wake up, okay?”
matt thought he’d died and gone to heaven the moment his dick slid between your tits, thick and flushed as you pressed them together, bouncing them to the pace of his thrusts. his breath hitched, jaw slack, lips parted as he watched himself disappear into the plush of your chest, the tip peeking out slick and needy before vanishing again.
“holy fuck,” he choked out, head falling back against the pillows before snapping forward again—because there was no way in hell he wasn’t watching this. his hands gripped the sheets, knuckles white, resisting the urge to just grab—to squeeze, to push your tits together harder, to thrust up and lose himself completely.
his pupils were blown, mouth hanging open as he sucked in shallow, shaky breaths. he was hypnotized, practically cross-eyed with it, like he’d been starving for this exact moment his entire life and was just now realizing it.
“you like that?” you teased, voice all honey, all sweet, dragging your tongue across his flushed tip when it peeked through.
matt’s breath stuttered, a groan ripping through his chest, hand flying up to grip your wrist—like he needed something to ground himself, to tether him before he lost his goddamn mind.
“baby, you don’t even know,” he muttered, voice wrecked, barely able to get the words out. his hips bucked up, his cock sliding messily through your spit-slicked skin, and his fingers curled around your wrist, tightening. “shit, you’re gonna make me cum just looking at you.”
his head dropped back again, adam’s apple bobbing, lashes fluttering, and for a second—just a second—you swore you saw his eyes roll back. completely blissed out, so far gone over the sight of your tits alone.
“fuck,” he rasped, chest heaving. “fuck, i need—i needa—”
you grinned, shifting closer, letting him finally cup them, palms hot and greedy, fingers digging into soft skin like he couldn’t believe they were real. his thumbs swiped over your nipples, almost in awe, before his grip tightened, squeezing as he thrust up again.
his head lifted, eyes hazy as they locked onto yours. “marry me.”
you blinked, caught off guard. “what?”
his lips were pink, glossy, spit-slick from how much he’d been licking them, biting them, working himself up just from the sight of you. he swallowed, jaw clenched, eyes heavy.
“nothing,” he breathed, shaking his head. then, quieter—more to himself than to you—“just fuckin’ love you.”
his hips stuttered, cock twitching between the tight warmth of your tits, and his grip on your wrist turned almost desperate. “fuck—baby—”
you knew it was coming—knew he was coming—but you still stuck your tongue out, ready for it, waiting—
and when it hit, hot and thick, spurting across your tongue, your lips, spilling down the valley of your chest, matt lost it.
“fuck—oh my fucking god—” his voice cracked, a broken, wre-cked little noise that had your stomach clenching. his thighs tensed, whole body shuddering as more of it spilled over your tits, dripping down your skin. but he kept going, hips still jerk-ing, ropes of cum spilling out in messy spurts because he couldn’t stop.
he was still coming.
his eyes were barely open, just slits of blue barely peeking through, his jaw clenched so hard it could shatter, breath coming in ragged, fucked-out gasps. his lips trembled, thighs quivering, hands gripping the sheets like he needed to hold on or he’d float away.
he could see it—his cum thick and glossy against your skin, smearing over your tits as you squeezed them together like you wanted to stay covered in it.
“jesus christ—” matt choked out, voice nothing but a desperate moan.
you swiped your fingers through the mess, licking it up, watching him the whole time, and his cock twitched—again.
“ohhh—ohhh fuck,” matt whined, actually fucking whined, head dropping back as another broken groan tore out of him.
his hips jerked, cock twitching, another weak spurt dripping from the tip because he swore to god he was gonna fucking pass out.
“matt,” you cooed, sweet as ever, leaning in, brushing your lips against his jaw. “you good, baby?”
his chest was heaving, body still trembling, completely wrecked, completely fucking whipped.
chris started feeling more like a man the moment he started messing with you. but when he ate your pussy? that was a whole different story.
because the first time he put his mouth on you—spit hot against your clit, tongue slow and heavy in its strokes—he knew nothing was gonna top it. not a high, not a check, not a single win in his fucking life.
and now? now he lives for it.
tongue deep, nose buried in the mess between your legs, chris is gone. lost in the way your thighs shake, how you push at his head like you don’t know by now that he likes that. that it makes him groan, makes him eat you up even nastier, makes him grip your thighs and keep you still while he devours you.
“mm—fuck,” he groans against you, voice muffled, lips dragging all over that pretty pussy like he tryna drown in it. like he tryna prove something. and maybe he is. maybe he needs to.
ever since he started fucking with you, his scruff been coming in thicker. fuller. way more apparent than before.
and you both knows what that mean.
he grins against your skin, lets his mustache drag along your inner thigh before he kisses back up, sucking on your clit, slipping two fingers in deep just to feel you squeeze.
“got me lookin grown, huh?” he mumbles, voice all raspy and cocky, thick fingers curling just right inside you. he looks up at you, eyes low, fucked out, and his jaw flexes as he licks up the wetness dripping from his lips. “all this,” he presses a kiss to your swollen pussy, groans when you twitch. “this all you, ma.”
he flicks his tongue again, then again, then again, and you jerk—whimpering, breath stuttering, body fighting between running and melting right into his mouth. he loves it. keeps going till you cum all over his tongue, till your thighs squeeze around his head and you’re gasping his name like it’s the only one you know.
but he’s not done.
not even close.
because next thing you know, he’s got you on your stomach, hand gripping tight at your hip, dick lined up, leaking, aching, swollen.
he sinks in all at once, slow, deep, letting out a long, shaking breath as he bottoms out.
“fuck, y’feel that?” he mutters, voice thick with something you can’t even place. he leans forward, pressing his chest to your back, fingers trailing to your jaw to turn your face toward his.
he kisses you slow, deep, filthy—like he’s tryna make you taste yourself.
“take it,” he urges, hips pulling back, pushing in, making you feel every inch. “keep squeezin, baby. ‘jus’ wanna feel you.”
he damn near losing his mind in it. hips stuttering, face twisted up like he in pain, but his grip don’t let up—not even a little. just digging bruises into your waist like he trying to mold you into the bed. “god damn,” he mutters, voice cracking like he ain’t ever felt pussy before.
and maybe he hasn’t. not like this. not like you.
“feelssogood,” he damn near whimpers, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he sinks in to the hilt, buried in that tight, wet, gripping heat that got his stomach flexing with every slow pull out. then he slams back in, pulling a choked gasp from your throat. “yeah? you like that?” he taunts, but it sound weak, desperate. like he the one being fucked.
his breath is hot, damp against your skin as he pants, working his hips in that deep, slow grind that drag against every inch inside you. his thumb finds your clit, pressing lazy, heavy circles like he just tryna feel you flutter around him.
“every time,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “every time i fuck you, this shit feel better. s’like you got me in a chokehold, ma.”
you don’t even gotta say nothing. he’s already folding, already picking up the pace, already falling apart over you. his fingers slip up to your jaw, tilting your head so he can kiss you, sloppy and open-mouthed, all tongue and heat and moans that melt into yours.
deciding to come over and hang with the boys—mostly chris-before they headed to boston for the holidays, you sat a few feet away behind the camera. nick, matt, and chris were on the couch in front of the coffee table, filming their upcoming friday video. it was their annual christmas gift exchange, and the three of them were in their usual chaotic element.
fifteen minutes in, the couch and floor were covered in ripped-up wrapping paper, random gifts, and empty boxes. matt reached for a medium-sized gift box, the grin on his face almost suspicious, and handed it to chris.
"what the hell's this?" chris asked, shaking the box and raising an eyebrow. "it sounds empty."
"just open it," matt said, licking his lips like he was holding back a laugh. he glanced at you for a moment, and you immediately felt the heat rise to your face. whatever this was, it was going to be good.
chris sighed and tore at the snowflake-printed wrapping paper, muttering under his breath about how much damn tape matt used. after a moment of struggle, he finally got the box open. his expression immediately froze, eyes glued to the now-revealed item in his hands.
nick let out a little "oh," before bursting into laughter. matt was already smirking like a proud idiot.
you glanced over, spotting the familiar trojan logo on the large 36-count box, and immediately slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle the laugh threatening to escape. your body stiffened, the secondhand embarrassment hitting you hard as matt leaned back on the couch, looking way too pleased with himself.
"not tryna have any nieces or nephews runnin' around any time soon," matt said, grinning at chris, who was still sitting there, stunned. "i figure you needed 'em."
"are you serious?" chris finally muttered, glaring at his older brother.
"deadass." matt shrugged, motioning to the box. "you better be thanking me. do i hear a 'y'welcome' or what?"
chris rolled his eyes, muttering a sarcastic "thanks" under his breath before chucking the box of condoms toward the kitchen. matt dodged it easily, laughing as nick joined in on teasing their younger brother.
"gotta wrap it 'fore y'tap it, kid," matt said smugly.
"you're welcome for savin' your life."
later that night, you and chris were in his room, the lights off, the glow from the tv flickering across the walls. neither of you was paying attention to Whatever was on the screen-mostly because he was three fingers deep in you, his head buried between your thighs.
his messy, fluffy hair tickled the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he licked and sucked at your dripping heat, practically eating you out like he hadn't had a meal in days. the soft grunts and huffs of breath he let out against your skin had you arching into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging just enough to earn a groan from him.
"mmh, oh m'god, y'taste so good, princess," he murmured against you, his hands sliding to the back of your knees to push your legs higher. it wasn't like he wasn't already smothering himself between your thighs, but he seemed determined to get closer.
your breathing came in shallow pants as your back arched off the mattress, thighs trembling as his tongue curled against your clit and his fingers worked inside you. with a soft gasp, you finally came, your body going slack as he worked you through your high.
he pulled back after a moment, his lips and chin glistening with your release as he looked down at you with a boyish grin. "if i were stranded on an island and i had to pick between an unlimited amount of pepsi or your pussy for the rest of my life, i'd pick phat ma real quick."
you blinked, staring at him in disbelief. "phat ma? what the hell is wrong with you?"
he just laughed, leaning down to kiss you, and you didn't even care about the taste of yourself on his lips.
after a heated makeout session, chris shifted to slide his pajama pants and boxers down, his cock springing free. he let out a stammered grunt as the cool air hit him, his need for you making him throb almost painfully. lining himself up, he leaned down to kiss you again, his hand gripping his length as he pressed it against your entrance.
"wait," you murmured, pulling back just enough to catch his attention.
"hm?" he asked, his lips brushing against yours. "get the condoms," you said, your hand pressing lightly against his chest.
he groaned softly, rolling his eyes in playful annoyance. "you really wanna use 'em?"
you nodded, and with a sigh, he climbed off the bed, pulling his pants up just enough to shuffle to the bathroom. he returned a moment later with a strip of condoms from the massive box matt gifted him, his erection still visibly straining against the fabric of his pants.
"happy now?" he muttered, tearing one open and rolling it on before settling back between your legs.
"extremely," you teased, smirking as he finally slid into you, both of you letting out a soft gasp at the feeling.
"fuck, y'feel so good, ma," he grunted, his pace starting slow before quickly building into something more desperate.
the following morning, as the boys were packing for their flight back home, matt stopped by chris's room. leaning against the doorframe, he watched chris throw clothes into a suitcase, making small talk. his eyes drifted to the trashcan in the corner, spotting the shiny blue wrappers mixed in with some crumpled kleenex.
"damn," matt said, smirking as chris looked up. "what'd you do, use the whole box already?"
chris groaned, chucking a t-shirt at matt's face.
"shut up."
matt just laughed, stepping out of the room. "welcome, little bro."
@ sosasturns
happy late christmas to all who celebrated. wishin each and every one of you the best of luck n vibes for the new year <3
