Has Stepbro!Chris ever stolen the readers panties before? And does he ever look through her stuff when the reader is gone?
Oh, definitely. He's very nosey and snoops around in her room regularly. I have a chapter where he gets caught doing it, too. 🤭
But it's not the only time he's done it, and it's not the only time he's been caught:
cw: violation of privacy, chris being a total perv, m!masturbation, getting caught
Chris knew it was a breach of trust. He knew you'd be fuming if you knew, but you were out with a few of your friends. He'd justified it by telling himself if you really didn't want him to go poking around in your forbidden lair, you'd lock your door when you were gone. Since you hadn't, it was fair game.
He didn't know how much longer you'd be out, and he had to go undetected by his mom and your dad as the pair watched a movie downstairs together, so his adrenaline was already high as he quietly slipped into your bedroom. He took note of the new tapestry you'd added to your wall and the new house plants that decorated your windowsill.
His eyes were then immediately drawn to your top dresser drawer and the way it was just barely cracked open like you'd left in a hurry and forgot to shut it all the way, inviting him to take a peek. He couldn't help himself. He slinked over to the other side of your room, opening the dresser drawer and started rummaging through your sensitive items.
He saw a little black bag that was neatly placed in your drawer along with your socks, underwear, and lingerie. His curiosity getting the better of him, he reached for it, realizing quickly what was inside - a purple suction vibrator. He slid it out of the velvety pouch, examining it and twirling it around in his grasp. He clicked the button, the toy buzzing to life in his hand. "Jesus," he chuckled with a smirk, realizing how powerful it was.
It's not that he was jealous. He didn't mind you having toys. He actually found it really hot, imagining you in your bed while reading one of your dirty romance novels with your vibrator between your shaking legs. The only caveat was that you couldn't own a dildo that was bigger than him. Or the two of you would have a problem.
He shut it off, placing it back where he found it, and he continued to rifle through the contents of your dresser drawer. He'd seen you come home with a Victoria's Secret bag the other day, assuming you had some new additions to your lingerie collection.
He swiped a soft, silky pair of pink panties with a bow on the front and stuffed them into the pocket of his sweats, smirking to himself and already imagining how the texture of the fabric would feel against the tip of his cock later that night.
He closed the drawer a bit, leaving it open a crack, the way you'd left it, and he continued to snoop around the rest of your room. Nothing was out of place or out of the ordinary at first glance - some laundry on the floor, candles scattered about, and a pile of books stacked on your nightstand.
He smiled smugly, his eyes scanning the covers and reading the cheesy titles to all the smutty books you liked while he combed through them. He came across one inparticular that didn't quite look like the rest of the books. It didn't have a title or an author inscribed on the front. Instead, it had your name.
"What do we have here?" He smirked to himself, plucking it from the stack of novels and cracking it open once he realized what it was - a journal. Out of all the time Chris had spent sneaking around in your room and sneaking around with you, he'd never found one in your bedroom or seen you write in one.
He sifted through the pages, wondering what secrets you were hiding, what private thoughts you'd divulged to your journal that you'd never told him. He wondered if he'd come across his own name.
He rolled his eyes and let out a huff as he started to read an entry you'd written sbout some guy named Jimmy in your philosophy class:
"Jimmy looked so delicious in that new flannel he bought. I couldn't stop staring at him in class today. All I could think about was him tearing my clothes off and doing me on the desk. . ."
Whore, Chris thought to himself, a look of contempt creeping onto his face at your words and immediately skipping to a later entry:
"Well, I slept with Jimmy. It was boring!! So not worth it. Ever since I started sneaking around with Chris, nothing can compare to him . . ."
Jackpot! Chris smirked to himself, kicking his shoes off, getting comfortable on your bed, and leaning back on one arm as he read on:
"Anytime I'm with another guy in bed, I have to close my eyes and think about Chris if I have any chance of finishing. How messed up is that?! I can't get off with another guy that isn't my stepbrother unless I think about my stepbrother. . ."
Chris couldn't contain his giddiness, a self-satisfied grin plastered to his face, the words on the page feeding his ego as if he really needed that. He could feel the fabric of his sweatpants starting to grow tighter as he continued:
"He's ruined me for all other men. No one handles me the way he does. No one puts me in my place like he does. No one's hands are like his hands, strong and dominant and yet so needy at the same time. . ."
As Chris read along to your candid thoughts about him, he found his hand wandering to his bulge, slowly running his fingers over his length through the fabric.
"No one fucks me the way he does with so much passion and yet so much aloofness at the same time. No one talks to me like he does. I've never felt so cherished and yet so degraded by a man. It drives me crazy, messes with my head. . ."
A soft moan passed through Chris' slightly parted lips as he lazily stroked himself through his sweatpants. His heart raced, his breath becoming rapid. He needed more. He flipped to your most recent entry, his blue eyes scanning the page for his name.
"We're going camping in a few weeks once it warms up a little. The last time we went camping, Chris and I shared a tent, and we did unspeakable things to each other that night. God, it was so hot. We had to be quiet, of course. My dad and his mom were sharing a tent like six feet away from ours. . ."
He reached into his waistband, freeing his cock when he realized the words ahead were a detailed fantasy you had involving him:
"You know, when we go camping this time around, it would be fun if he chased me through the woods first before fucking me. It's always been a fantasy of mine. I wanna feel completely out of control. . ."
"Fuck," Chris whispered huskily under his breath, dragging his thumb through a bit of precum that had gathered on his swollen tip. His cock twitched in response, his breath hitching in his throat. He wrapped his fingers around his length, pumping his hand back and forth as he imagined it.
"I can already feel his hands on me, tearing at my clothes, holding me down, pushing my legs apart, pulling my panties to the side. . ."
That's when he remembered the panties he'd snatched from your drawer, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. Why not use them now? He retrieved them from his pocket, a sigh leaving his perfect pink lips as he wrapped the soft fabric around his cock.
He brushed his thumb over the tip again, shuddering at the feeling of the soft silk against his most sensitive spot. "Mmm," he quietly hummed, biting down on his lip to keep the sound contained.
His eyelids grew heavy as he read on about your fantasies, all the filthy thoughts he didn't know were swirling around in your brain everyday. He started to stroke himself faster, completely lost in the words on the page and the overwhelming pleasure that was building within, the pink material still wrapped around him and adding to the sensation.
He was so caught up in your fantasy, your fantasy that was slowly becoming his own, adding his own personal touches as it played out in his mind, that he didn't notice that you'd come home. He didn't hear the car door shut when you pulled into the driveway or the sound of your shoes as you made your way up the stairs.
Suddenly, there you were, standing in the doorway, one hand on your hip, your jaw practically on the floor, and a disgusted look on your face. "Chris!" You exclaimed.
"Oh, fuck. When did you get home?" He slurred, too swept up in pleasure to hold off his impending orgasm. He moaned loudly, his cock pulsing as he busted all over his hand and your panties, his face contorting into a look of pure bliss.
You watched him as he finished, squirming under the feeling of his own touch, drops of pearly white spurting from his cock. You hated how much it turned you on.
"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" You screamed, stomping into your room and snatching your journal from him, forcing your expression to become even angrier when you noticed what he was using to jack off with. "You're such a fucking pig!"
"I-I'm sorry. I got lost on the way to my room," he breathlessly chuckled, knowing the excuse was weak and that it definitely didn't justify anything you'd caught him doing.
"Get the fuck out! I can't believe you got it on my clean sheets and my new panties I haven't even worn yet," you pouted, looking at the wet spots Chris had left on your blanket and your underwear.
"You want 'em back?" He chuckled, reaching out and trying to give you back your soiled undies.
"Gross! Fucking go wash them. Now." You crossed your hands over your chest, your eyes occasionally drifting between his still hard cock that he didn't bother trying to cover up and the mess he made.
"C'mon, sis. I know what ya really think of me. Can't hide it anymore," he replied condescendingly, clicking his tongue as he glanced at your journal. "I saw the things you wrote about me." He gave you a smug smile.
You stood there quietly, humiliated by what he had probably read. You narrowed your gaze, your jaw clenching in anger.
It didn't matter what you said or did. Nothing could bring Chris down from the high he was on after reading about how he had ruined you for every other man.
He tucked himself back into his sweats, his eyes on you the entire time. "So, you think about your stepbrother when you fuck other guys, huh?" He scoffed, brushing past you. "You really are a sick fuck," he joked, realizing the irony in his words and knowing he always thought about you, too, when he'd fuck anyone else.
