➟ 💿 content warning: kinda smutty, touching, veryyyy suggestive, sexual tension, dirty talk, praise, degradation/humiliation, mentions of masturbation
➟ 💿 summary: you end up giving matt a massage while the two of you are alone on the tourbus after playing a concert
dividers by me !
song I listened to while writing this chapter:
Bizarre Love Triangle
chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |
[ click to return to series overview ]
The three of you had just wrapped up a show in Memphis, Tennessee, the energy from the crowd still lingering in your system. Chris was nowhere to be found, mostly likely off taking shots with the guys from the other bands and shooting his shot with groupies, while you and Matt were both back at the tourbus, trying to wind down from all the chaos and get ready for bed.
You were curled up on the bench in your pajamas with a good book you'd read several times, the spine and the cover worn and tattered, your eyes scanning the words on the page and creating a whole little world in your head.
Your wore your hair down, letting it airdry from your shower you had earlier that you were hoping would relax you, but it was hard in such a cramped space, and the water had just started warming up by the time you were ready to get out.
Matt was seated on the floor, his back up against the bench you were perched on, rubbing the back of his neck and hissing in pain. "Man, my guitar strap has been killing me." He was more so talking out loud to himself, not expecting a response, but you perked up, dropping your book onto your lap.
"Oh, do you want a massage or something?" You casually suggested with a half-hearted shrug.
Matt chuckled, shaking his head. "You don't have to do that." There was a sense of longing in his voice that indicated he wouldn't turn it down if you asked again.
"I know I don't have to," you replied, situating yourself on the bench. "I'm offering."
"Alright, alright. Twist my arm," he jokingly said, looking back at you with a charming smile.
"Here. Sit between my legs," you told him, draping your legs over the side of the bench. Matt positioned himself with his back to you, your feet planted on the floor of the tourbus on either side of him.
"Thank you," he told you, a bit of relief in his voice before you could even touch him.
"Just try to enjoy it," you replied in a calm soothing voice as you thoughtfully placed your hands on both of his shoulders.
With your thumbs, you started to rub just below the nape of his neck. A sigh of relief passed through his lips as he surrendered to your touch. You could feel him relax beneath you, the tension in his shoulders falling as you worked out a particularly stubborn knot.
"Just like that," Matt groaned, letting his head fall back, his breathy voice sending a current of arousal through you, the air feeling charged with a level of sexual tension.
"Feel good?" You softly inquired, still caressing his neck.
"Mhmm," he hummed. "So good."
You weren't sure if he was doing it on purpose, but his responses were so sensual, pleasured sounds dripping from his mouth like warm honey.
"You mind, uh, taking off your shirt? You know, so I can get your back?" You wondered, hoping it didn't seem like you were trying to get him out of his clothes, even though you absolutely were.
"Oh, for sure," he responded, and without hesitation, he pulled the clothing off over his head, discarding it onto the floor. You held your breath, biting down on your bottom lip as he revealed his back to you, muscles, tattoos, and all.
It was only the third or fourth time you'd seen him shirtless, and it was definitely the first time you were going to put your hands on him in such an intimate way. You lightly ran your fingers over the ink, sending a shiver down Matt's spine.
You got back to work, gently rubbing his shoulder blades, but the whole time you were picturing a sexual encounter with him, imagining his back all covered in scratches from you.
"You can be a little rougher," Matt admitted, glancing back at you with his blue eyes, breaking you out of your filthy thoughts. "I promise. I can take it," he assured you, sensing your hesitation.
You simultaneously loved and hated how everything he was saying to you could easily be read as dirty talk in your dirty little mind. He had to know what he was doing, right?
"Uh, yeah, totally. Just let me know if I'm hurting you at all." You added more pressure, rubbing circles with your thumbs over all of his tender spots, eliciting a few deep groans from him that made your stomach turn in the best way.
"Fuck," he sighed as one of the knots came loose in his muscles, the tension further leaving his body. "Hey, do you mind getting my lower back? Matt chimed in. "If I lay on the floor, it might be easier."
"Sure. Of course," you nodded eagerly, wanting any excuse to touch more of him.
He situated himself so he was laying flat on his stomach in the walkway. You straddled his lower back, praying he wouldn't be able to feel how wet you were getting or the way your clit was actually throbbing at the way he was talking to you. You started from his mid back, expertly massaging all the spots that felt extra tense.
"Oh, my god. Right there. That feels sooo good." Your jaw dropped as you listened to the uncontrollable moans spilling from his lips, wondering if he knew just how hot he sounded.
You continued to run your hands along his back tattoos, increasing the pressure as he requested. You felt a rush of desire rippling through you, using all your willpower to maintain your professionalism and fight the urge to start grinding against him.
"You're doing so good," he whispered, his voice hoarse and filled with need. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head at the praise. You cleared your throat, taking a deep breath and trying to keep it clean despite the filthy thoughts that were swirling around in your head.
"You like that?" You asked in a sultry tone, startling yourself with how lustful it sounded coming out of your mouth.
Instead, he played into it, leaving you futher wondering if he was liking this in the same way you were, or if to him it was just a friend giving another friend a massage.
"Yesss," he hissed. "Your hands feel so fuckin' good on me."
You couldn't help it. Your hips involuntarily rolled forward, the sensation going straight to your clit. You paused, hoping Matt wouldn't notice.
Matt groaned in pleasure under your touch as the door swung open to a dumbfounded Chris, standing at the front of the bus with his jaw on the floor. He could clearly hear what was happening before he stepped inside. "Holy shit! I thought I was gonna walk in on you guys fucking," Chris laughed, stumbling inside as he pulled the door closed behind him.
"Chris! You're disgusting," you exclaimed, blushing hard as you sat up straight, still straddling Matt's lower back.
"Chris, what the fuck?" Matt tilted his head up to look at his brother. "She was just massaging me. Don't be weird."
"The sounds you guys were making were crazy without the context, okay? You can't blame me," Chris slurred his words, clearly drunk, holding his hands up in a defensive position, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"You just have a dirty mind, Chris," you accused him, standing up and shaking your head in disapproval, knowing damn well your mind was just as dirty.
"Yeah, just because you don't care about us walking in on you fucking some girl doesn't mean we'd do that to you," Matt huffed back in response, picking his shirt up off the floor and throwing it back on before he climbed to his feet.
"Are you kidding!?" Chris blurted out. "Does that feel good, Matt? Oh, yeah. Right there. Just like that. Your hands feel so fuckin' good on me," Chris repeated the words you'd exchanged almost verbatim.
Your jaw dropped again, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Chris!" You shouted.
"Dude, were you just sitting out there listening through the door?" Matt accused him, narrowing his gaze. "Fuckin' perv."
"Not intentionally. I just was debating whether to come in or not, because it genuinely sounded like you guys were doing something!"
"Yeah, whatever. Bet you were picturing it. Freak," Matt gruffed, shoulder checking his brother as he pushed past him on his way to go smoke a joint outside.
You avoided eye contact, crawling back onto the bench and grabbing your book, picking up where you'd left off in the story.
Chris paused in front of you, crossing his arms and glaring down at you with a malicious grin. "I see the way you look at him."
"Chris, what the fuck are you talking about?" You sneered back without looking up.
"I see the way your eyes follow him when he gets out of the shower. When he takes off his shirt. I bet that was so hard for you. Hearing him talk to you like that. Bet you wanted to fuck his brains out."
You didn't confirm or deny it. You sat there, jaw on the floor, so humiliated you could cry. You wanted to tell him to shut up, put him in his place, but you were speechless. Chris leaned in. You could smell the alcohol on his breath. "You want him more than me?" Chris asked, his face softening. He almost looked hurt.
"Chris, you're drunk."
"I may be, but I'm not an idiot. That night we went out dancing. The other night at the pool. God, the way you look at me is intoxicating. But it's the same way you look at him."
You felt so called out. You didn't even know what to say.
"Wonder which one of us you're gonna think about when you fuck yourself with those pretty little fingers of yours tonight." His gaze dropped to your hands as you tightened your grip on your book. Your jaw dropped again, your eyes widening and your eyebrows flying up.
"Both of us?" He teased you. "God, I'd pay to watch that." He was still fixed on your manicured nails, picturing the things you do to yourself when you're alone.
"Chris. You're trashed," you said sternly. "Go sleep it off. We can talk about this when you're sober," you managed to fix your lips to say.
Chris scoffed, rolling his eyes as he staggered off to his bunk, mumbling under his breath, "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Slut."
You stayed in place, legs curled up underneath you, book in hand just staring off into the distance in shock. You blinked, a tear falling from your lashes and rolling down your cheek.
You weren't even sure why you were crying. Maybe from embarrassment. Maybe frustration. Maybe bewilderment. You genuinely couldn't believe what he'd just said to you and with all the confidence in the world, too. Even more than that, you couldn't believe how insanely turned on you were from it.
After Matt came inside, apologizing to you for his brother's behavior, though he didn't even know the half of what had just been said. You shrugged it off.
You waited for the energy in the bus to die down. You waited until the lights were off. You waited until you heard the sound of Chris snoring and until you stopped hearing the sound of Matt tossing around in his bunk.
You stayed out on the bench, one hand covering your mouth and the other dipping into the waistband of your pajama shorts, and you fucked yourself with your pretty little fingers thinking about both brothers just like Chris said you would.
i miss us. i miss the way we used to joke. i miss the way he used to look at me with those adoring eyes. i miss how we could talk for hours about the stupidest shit then all of a sudden be able to have these serious and deep conversations. i miss my friend and confidant.
despite all the hurt he put me through, i would always come back to him if given the opportunity. i see more good than evil and you can call me crazy or a “bird” but i know he never meant to cause me all that pain.
nobody knew him like i knew him. nobody knew me like he knew me, hell, idek if knew me as well as he did. he could read me like a book. he always knew when i was gonna crack a joke or mess with him before i even got the chance. as of right now, there’s not another out there for me. nobody made me feel the love he made me feel.
i just wish we could go back to us. even if that “us” isn’t the couple that nobody saw coming or expected to last as long as it did. 2 years ago, 6th period, a hug every day i walked into that class. even though at the time we had feelings for different people that weren’t reciprocated, we still had eachother. even when we tried to be something the first time but we both had personal matters to deal with. we found our way back to eachother, tried again, and made it work.
that’s all i’m asking for, i just wanna try again. i know he still loves me, deep down. i know it was real and i know he never wanted to end it that way. all those talks about our future and life together once we graduated, there’s no way he could’ve ever wanted it to end that way.
our story shouldn’t have had to end like that. so all i beg ask for is a redo. a rewrite. a second ending. something that won’t leave me question any and every interaction we had throughout our rollercoaster of a relationship.
ˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝗌𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗒𝖺𝗉𝗌: i know it isn’t my usual type of post but i desperately needed to get this off my chest and tumblr is fortunately my comfort app 💝
Dealer!Chris walks in to see Bunny!Reader crying alone in bed
CW. Fluff. Short blurb. Boyfriend Chris being comforting & worried. Cuddles, smiles & kisses <3
You were drowning in tears. Everything that could’ve gone wrong today had. You held it together. Well, up until you stepped into the bedroom.
When Chris walks in the house, he pauses, hearing the faint echo of your sobs. As soon as he understands what the noise is, he bolts—running down the stairs, barging into the room with a worried face.
His breath is ragged. “Bunny?”
He slowly moves, walking over to the bed. You hear his heavy boots drift on the floor. Looking up, you can’t help but give him a pout.
Chris feels his heart strain in his chest from the sight of your wrecked appearance. You usually look so happy, so full of life and joy. But right now? Right now you look drained. Absolutely exhausted.
“Oh bun…” he lays down on the bed, plucking you into his arms and holding your face against his chest.
It doesn’t silence your cries. In fact, he thinks they start to shoot off the walls with more energy. But you finally feel the relief of fully letting go. You’re not alone anymore, you know he’ll take care of you.
“Hey, I got you, just let it out…”
“Deep breaths, bun. Don’t forget to take some big breaths for me, okay?”
“It breaks my heart seeing you like this…I love you, baby.”
And finally, the tears stop. His comforting words, his gentle hands holding you, the tiny kisses he plants on your head…everything seems to simmer down. You feel at peace after a storm of emotions.
“You doin better, bun?” He pets your face, guiding you to look up at him. When you give him a gentle nod, he smiles. You can’t help but mimic the expression, his pearly teeth making your heart warm.
You mumble softly under your breath, your voice still a bit horse from all the loud cries. “Mhm. Thank you…”
“Anytime, bun…every time. You need me, I’m there.”
.
.
.
Paige’s Notes: Nav on pinned. Thank you to the anon that requested this !! This was very fun to write after a longgggg day.
Thanks for reading, interaction is appreciated. I love to hear feedback 💗
Ilya holding him still in this position and relentlessly pounding into him while shane just moans and trembles and takes it because he can’t do anything else
⋆˙⟡ in which: it’s your son’s first hockey game, and chris is stressed out.
a/n: i kinda took this to mean dad!chris so i hope that’s ok :)
cw: boy dad!chris, established relationship (marriage), really short, just lots of fluff
not proofread
“Fuck, where are the keys?” Chris says, rummaging through a pile of dirty clothes on the floor. A pair of boxers hits you square in the face and you peel them off, staring at Chris.
“Calm down, baby. The game doesn’t start until 10. We still have an hour.” You reassured him, tossing the dark colored underwear back at the overturned hamper.
“Yeah okay, but we can’t be late. And I wanted to pick up those balloons for Colten on the way over.” He says, finally pulling the keys out from a jeans pocket.
Today was your son’s first ever hockey game.
Chris had raised your son on hockey, buying him Bruins jerseys and hats whenever he could fit them. By no surprise, as soon as Colten turned seven, Chris signed him up for the children’s hockey team in town.
Since the team was practicing and warming up before the game, you and Chris had dropped your son off earlier that morning and come home to properly get dressed and chill for a few.
Chris was being anything but chill.
“Hat or no hat?” Chris asks, showing you both options.
“Umm… hat?” You say, pulling a blue tshirt over your head. Chris freezes.
“What?” You ask.
“Take that off, you can’t wear that!” Chris hisses.
“What? Why?”
“That’s the opposing team’s color!”
You looked down at your navy shirt, before pulling it over and off your head, settling for an orange hoodie instead. The color of Colten’s team. “Better?” You ask.
Chris nods, lifting his matching orange cap to run a hand through his hair. “Do we have everything?”
“I’m pretty sure,” You say, grabbing your tote bag from the bed.
“Sign?”
You nod. Chris had made Colten a big poster board with #7– Go Colten Sturniolo! on the front in (of course orange) glittered paint markers.
“Gatorade? Goldfish?”
“Yes, baby. All of it’s in my bag. and we’re picking the balloons up on the way, okay? Calm down.” You reach for his hand and he lets you take it, the tension rushing out of his body immediately upon contact.
“I’m sorry. I just— I want it all to be perfect. He’s my son, you know? He deserves all of this and more.”
“I understand.” You lean up to kiss him, capturing his mouth with a quick peck. “You’re a wonderful father, Chris.”
20 seconds left on the clock. The Orange and Blue team were tied 3-3. Chris sits at the edge of his seat, hands braced on his knees as he watches intently. You can’t help but giggle at your husband’s intense look, his care for a hockey game consisting of first graders.
“Come on Colten,” He whispers under his breath as the puck flies towards the opposing team.
But before it can reach its intended target, Colten skates in between, stealing the puck and batting it towards the orange team’s goal.
0:05 left on the clock. The teams victory depends solely upon your son.
He lines up the shot and hits the puck, which slides into the goal, right as the scoreboard goes off and the time reaches zero.
Cheers erupt from the parents of the orange team. Chris jumps out of his seat, screaming and pumping his fist, the poster board long forgotten on the bench beside him.
“Go Colton!! That’s my boy!” He yells. You’re standing too, cheering, and Chris grabs your face and gives you the sweetest kiss.
When your son comes off the ice, Chris runs over to him and lifts him up. He spins him around as he hugs him.
“You did amazing, buddy!” Chris says, pulling back from the hug.
Colten smiles wide, turning to you. You hand him the orange balloon that you and Chris had picked up for him before the game. “We’re so proud of you, honey.”
Chris then lifts Colten on his shoulders. “What do you say, bud? Should we go get some ice cream?”
happy pride month everyone!! whether you’re closeted or out; i hope this month brings you so much joy and you get the recognition and support you deserve!
this is my third pride month out and im so grateful to have friends who’ve never looked at me different or judged me. i wish that for everyone of yall!
stay safe out there and maybe have some sesbian lex 😂👩🏻❤️💋👩🏾✂️
