Oh My God I've Been Thinking About Sweet!readerxGhost Alll Day. Basically Where Reader Is Super Giddy

blaise!!!

Olive Theory

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Blaise Zabini x Reader

Word count: approx. 4.2k

Summary: You and Blaise complement each other perfectly as best friends, but little do you know, he’s been keeping a secret.

Warnings/be aware: best friends to lovers, use of Y/N, introverted!Reader, Slytherin!Reader implied, the Slytherin boys being sweeties, kissing, fluff

A/N: had a little one-shot fun in between working on chapters for my Theo series 🤭 Based on the olive theory from How I Met Your Mother!

You staggered up the dimly-lit stairwell leading from the dungeons to the Great Hall, yawning. Pansy and Daphne, who walked on either side of you, looked just about as toasted as you were. The three of you had just finished another exhausting study session in the Slytherin common room, leaving you feeling ready to give up on your NEWTs altogether.

“Ugh, what a day.” Rubbing your eyes, you stepped up onto the landing.

“Tell me about it.” Pansy’s face soured. “If McGonagall gives us one more surprise essay, I’m getting on my broom and going the Weasley twins’ route.”

“I’ll join you.” As she crossed the corridor, Daphne tightened her ponytail. “If I get anything less than an ‘E’ in Transfiguration, my parents are going to kill me.”

“Would it be mad to just go to bed after dinner?” It was only six o’clock, but you could scarcely keep your eyes open. “Maybe we can get up early and study.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Daphne agreed.

“When did we get so boring?” Pansy shook her head as the three of you stepped through the doorway and into the Great Hall, a wall of chatter hitting your ears as you entered the space where many of your classmates were already eating. “We’ve got to get out more, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

As the three of you approached the Slytherin table, you saw that your other friends had already arrived. Theo, Mattheo, Draco, and Enzo were preoccupied with some debate about whether a dragon could beat 10,000 flesh-eating slugs in a fight.

“What is wrong with you all?” Daphne muttered, her nose wrinkling in disgust as she took her usual spot to the left of Enzo.

However, your best friend Blaise immediately caught your attention, his midnight eyes meeting yours as he grinned. You felt the tension dissipate from your body as you sat down next to him.

“Rough day?” He raised his eyebrows as he caught the exhausted look in your eye.

“Terrible. Even Herbology is difficult these days.” Letting out a heavy breath of frustration, you leaned your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you and gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze, letting you rest on him.

You and Blaise had been best friends since you’d beaten him at Wizard’s Chess in the Slytherin common room during your first year. Though you’d since become close with many of the other Slytherins, your relationship with Blaise was special. The two of you complimented each other perfectly. He was outgoing and popular while you were more introverted and kept a closer circle of friends – you calmed him down when he became too worked up and excitable, and he brought you out of your shell when you began to isolate yourself. You would remember the million parties, games, and school club meetings he’d agreed to attend and then immediately forgotten about, and he would make sure that you left the library and went to them with him. Rarely was one of you spotted without the other.

“Tell me about it. A chomping cabbage got me yesterday.” He pulled up the sleeve of his robes to display an angry, scabbed bite on his forearm and you winced.

“Blaise!” You sat up, fixing him with a displeased frown. “Please let me heal that, it looks like it could get infected.”

“After you eat something.” Acquiescing, you scooped a sandwich and some salad onto your plate. “Want my olives?”

“Yes!” You bounced in your seat excitedly. Olives were your favorite food in the world. Blaise somehow hated them, which was a blasphemous opinion in your eyes. However, you could hardly complain considering every time there were olives in his food, he gave them to you. It was just another way that your differences somehow made your friendship even better. He grinned as you happily dug into your meal.

The food was exactly what you needed, and the feeling that your head was going to explode from stress soon began to subside. You chatted with Blaise and Daphne for a few minutes until a small voice interrupted you.

“Uh, hey guys.” You turned to see Daphne’s sister Astoria standing behind you, glancing bashfully at the ground.

“Hi, Astoria!” Grinning, you greeted the shy girl brightly. You and your friends all loved the younger Greengrass, though she wasn’t around much. She was almost always with a large group of other fourth-year Slytherins, who Daphne disdained for the way they overran Greengrass Manor during the holidays.

“Daph, can I…can I sit with you today?” Tears welled up in Astoria’s eyes and your eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Yeah, yeah, of course!” Daphne scooted closer to you, patting the seat on her other side. She turned towards you and Blaise. “Budge over, you lot.” He reached around your hips and pulled you closer to him as everyone squished together to accommodate Astoria. “What’s going on?” Daphne watched her younger sister, her eyes full of a concern that you rarely saw her display.

“Yeah, who d’I need to fight?” Mattheo chimed in, his mouth full of food.

“Riddle, close your mouth, that’s disgusting!” Pansy scrunched her nose in displeasure, calling out from across the table.

“I just need new friends.” Astoria let out a sigh, wiping the tears that were threatening to overflow. “They were all hanging out without me after class today! I asked Lacey what she was going to do after Arithmancy and she said she was just going to the library to study, but when I went outside for a walk they were all by the Black Lake, having a picnic.” She glanced hesitantly down the table towards the area where the other fourth-years were sitting. “I don’t even think they notice I’m gone.”

“Ew,” Pansy remarked, glaring at the distant group scathingly. “They sound toxic. You should get some better friends.”

“That Julius Mulciber sure acts like a git,” Theo scoffed, nodding in the direction of one of the fourth-years. “He was so busy trying to impress that lot with some candy he’d nicked from Honeydukes that he ran straight into me when I was coming back from Divination the other day. Knocked himself clean over."

“Sit with us for as long as you like.” Enzo squeezed Astoria’s shoulder gently, sounding somewhat more gentle than Theo. “You shouldn’t have to waste your time with people who treat you that way.”

“Thanks, guys.” Astoria smiled softly as Daphne pulled her in for a hug. “You lot make it look so easy, getting on all the time. I want a friendship like…well, like you two.” She glanced at you and Blaise, and you couldn’t help but grin as he nudged you playfully. “How do you find something like that?”

“Well, you find someone you ought to be snogging, and then you dance around each other for half a decade or so and you have what they’ve got.” Draco’s smug voice drawled as he picked up his sandwich.

“Draco!” Your cheeks suddenly felt very hot as Blaise snatched a dinner roll from Mattheo’s plate and pitched it at Draco’s head.

You knew that most of your other friends were placing bets on when you and Blaise would start dating, and to be honest, you’d thought about it. How could you not? Your best friend also happened to be one of the most handsome guys at Hogwarts, with beautiful eyes, a swoon-worthy smile, and a gorgeous physique from years of playing Quidditch. But what you and Blaise had was like catching lightning in a bottle already. If you confessed your feelings and he didn’t feel the same, you ran the risk of pushing your favorite person out of your life. Nothing was worth that chance.

“Don’t do that.” Pansy rolled her eyes. “You just have to follow the olive theory.”

Astoria frowned. “What in the world is that?”

“I’m with you,” Enzo agreed, nodding at Astoria as he eyed Pansy with confusion.

“It’s simple,” she stated. “Y/N and Zabini get on so well because one of them loves olives and the other one hates them. They balance each other out in a way that makes them both better off – Y/N gets to eat twice as many olives and Zabini doesn’t have to eat any. It works in other ways too.” She glanced at you. “You get Zab to study,” she said before looking towards Blaise, “And you get Y/N to actually go outside. That sort of thing. Dray and I have it too.”

“How?” Draco’s eyes shifted to Pansy.

“You’re a massive prat sometimes, and when that happens, I balance you out by telling you you’re a massive prat.” You and your friends burst into laughter as Draco grimaced.

“Had that one coming.” Mattheo shook his head, chuckling.

“Olive theory is real, though,” Daphne agreed, nodding. “It’s why they work.”

“Wait.” Blaise raised his eyebrows. “You’re telling me that you think that Y/N and I are best mates because of…olives?”

“That’s not what I was saying at all.” Pansy threw up her hands in frustration. “Do you all even listen to me?” She paused for a moment, her brows furrowing. “Don’t answer that.”

“I get it.” You shrugged. “The olives are like a bribe to put up with him. They keep me friendly.” You shot him a teasing grin as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Well if they’re supposed to keep you friendly, clearly they aren’t working.” Suddenly, his fingers that were previously resting lightly on your waist squeezed your side. You shrieked, giggling as he grabbed an olive out of the salad bowl and threw it at you.

“Get your disgusting fingers out of the salad!” Daphne smacked Blaise in the back of the head as the two of you began to push each other.

“Maybe don’t follow the olive theory.” Enzo looked on at you, Blaise and Daphne resignedly before glancing back at Astoria. “Don’t follow any of their advice, they’re all mad.”

“Clearly.” Astoria giggled.

Meals with your friends proved to be your only respite from the mountain of schoolwork that you were struggling to complete. The next couple of days were packed with essays, assignments, and revising, mostly alone but occasionally with Daphne, Pansy, and some of the boys. It was rare that you actually saw your best friend for more than a few minutes at a time, though. Blaise seemingly always had somewhere to be.

“B, pleaseee come sit down and do your work.” You pouted in his direction as he prepared to head out the common room door once again, Quidditch broom in hand. This is for his own good, you told yourself. He needed to catch up on Arithmancy before Professor Vector gave him a month’s worth of detentions. But if you were honest with yourself, you were tired of studying on the couch without him to rest against.

“Can’t, Malfoy has got us doing two-a-days since the Cup final is coming up.” To his credit, he looked genuinely apologetic as he strode back toward you, squeezing your shoulder gently. “I’ll come study with you as soon as I get back, I promise.”

Your eyes found his brown ones as you looked up at him and scrunched your nose. “You'd better shower first.”

He chuckled, flicking you in the ear as you walked away. You let out a squeak of protest and threw a pillow at his retreating back.

The hours seemed to drag as you waited for Blaise and the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch contingency to return to the common room. Enzo and Pansy did eventually join you, plopping down on two of the surrounding armchairs as they pulled out their textbooks.

“Where’s Daph?” Pansy frowned, glancing around the common room.

“I’ve no idea.” You shrugged, jotting down an idea in the margins of your Defense notes.

“I saw her when I came back from the lake,” Enzo said. “She was talking with Astoria…Astoria was crying.”

“Oh no.” Your face fell at the thought.

“Looks like Riddle and I have some fourth-years to fight.” You glanced up to see that Pansy had stood out of her armchair, glaring at Mulciber and the girl that Astoria had called Lacey from across the common room.

“Pans, no.” Enzo extended an arm to gently push Pansy back into her seat. “We should at least wait and hear what happened. Besides, Riddle’s gonna be in some serious trouble if he gets another detention.”

“Then we won’t get caught,” Pansy murmured to herself, but remained seated nonetheless.

Strangely, even as the sun slipped behind the mountains and night overtook the day, no one returned to the Slytherin common room. Finally, after several hours, Theo ducked his head through the common room door.

“Oi!” His familiar voice caused you to jolt from your studying-induced trance and glance around.

“Nott! Where is everyone?” Enzo furrowed his brow as Theo stepped further into the common room. His hair was still slightly wet from the showers and he held his broom in his hand, a set of muddy Quidditch robes poking out of his bag.

“We’re all in the kitchens if you guys want to come. We ran into Daphne and Astoria on their way there after practice. Astoria’s really upset, Daph is getting her some ice cream.”

You cast your books aside and stood along with Enzo and Pansy. “Yeah, let’s go.” Astoria seemed like she was really having a difficult time and the last thing you wanted was for her to feel alone.

When you arrived at the kitchens, Daphne and Astoria were sitting atop a counter near the corner of the room, out of the way of the busy House Elves as they ate their ice cream. Around them stood Draco, Mattheo, and Blaise, all snacking on something or other as they listened to Astoria. It was heartwarming, really. As tough as all the boys were, they could be so kind as well.

“And…and Lacey said it was my fault that Julius likes me, even though I said I wouldn’t go out with him!” Astoria sniffled as she wiped her tears and allowed her sister to wrap a reassuring arm around her. “He told her all kinds of things that weren’t true…and then they all came up to me after Charms today and told me they were dropping me from the friend group.”

“That’s it, I’m giving Mulciber a bloody nose.” Pansy stepped forward, looking irate.

“I already called dibs.” Mattheo’s mouth contorted sourly as he set aside the crisps he’d been eating and cracked his knuckles.

“If anyone gets to fight someone, it’s me, so shut up.” Daphne glared at the group before turning back to her sister. “Tori, I’m so sorry. They’re awful. You told Mulciber you didn’t want to go out with him, it’s not your fault that he doesn’t know how to accept rejection.”

“I know.” She sniffled again, her shoulders shaking slightly. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do now. I don’t have any friends.”

“We’re your friends!” Enzo chimed in. “I meant it yesterday when I said that you could sit with us in the Great Hall for as long as you like.”

“And we’re way better friends than they are.” Blaise’s mouth was full of food as he spoke, and you couldn’t help but let out an exasperated little chuckle as you turned to look at him. He was leaning languidly against the counter, in his hands a jar of…olives?

“B, are you eating olives?” The words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could think, and you immediately clamped your mouth shut as everyone turned to look at you. Astoria laughed despite her still-watery eyes.

“Yeah, weren’t you guys just telling me yesterday about how you two are the perfect friends because he hates olives and you love them?”

“Eh, just testing whether my tastes have changed. Haven’t tried an olive since I was twelve after all.” Blaise shrugged nonchalantly, scooping a few olives into his mouth before he grimaced. “Yeah, these are still nasty. Here.” He held the jar out in your direction.

You raised your eyebrows, unconvinced. “If you like olives now, you can have them.” With a gentle hand, you pushed the jar back towards him. “It’s fine, I promise.”

“No, they’re gross. I don’t want ‘em.”

“If you insist.” You shrugged, accepting the jar of olives. “Anyway, I’m so sorry to interrupt,” you continued, turning back towards Astoria.

“Oh, it’s fine.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to bother you guys, sitting with you in the Great Hall all the time. I know I’m just Daphne’s little sister.” Her gaze dropped to the floor as she let out a bashful chuckle.

“Don’t worry about it.” Theo shook his head insistently. “You’re at least as mature as Riddle.” Everyone laughed as Mattheo snatched the brownie that Theo was about to bite into out of his hand.

With Astoria’s spirits successfully raised, you all continued to joke and snack until curfew was drawing near. Finally, with a nervous glance at the clock you announced that it was probably time to get to bed. Draco and Pansy split off for Prefect rounds as the rest of you returned to the Slytherin common room. As Astoria, Mattheo, and Theo walked ahead and Daphne and Enzo chatted quietly behind them, you fell in step with Blaise.

“How was practice?”

“Awful. You’ll need to speak with Malfoy if you’d like to have me around for much longer, because I think he’s trying to kill me.” His dramatics made you giggle.

“Well, that would be awfully stupid of him. It would be more difficult for Slytherin to win the Quidditch Cup if you were dead.”

“I knew there was a reason I still call you my number one fan.” He winked, nudging you playfully. “Looks like all the food I’m bribing you with is working.”

“Yeah.” You paused, remembering him eating from the olive jar. “Although, if you’re ready to join me on the dark side and embrace your love of olives, all you have to do is say so.” Flashing him a teasing grin, you nudged him back.

“Absolutely not.” He shook his head ardently. “I’ll always give you my olives.”

You watched him for a moment, taking in the serious expression on his face. “B, you know that’s not actually why we’re friends, right?” Letting out a hesitant little chuckle, you rested your hands in your pockets. “If you like olives now, it’s fine.”

“I don’t. They’re nasty.”

“You were literally eating them!” Stopping in your tracks, you turned towards him as your friends continued on ahead of you, your little dispute unnoticed. “I can procure my own olives, I promise.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. They were olives, for goodness’ sakes. “You don’t need to give me yours.”

“I want you to have them. I mean it.” He stepped forward, his eyes softening as he gazed at you. “I would rather you have them.”

“But I feel bad, I mean, I’ve been taking a food that you like…”

“Olives are olives.” With a grin, he shrugged. “But they make you so happy…” His eyes lowered. “It’s a small price to pay, really, to see you smile like that.”

“Blaise.” Your voice was hushed, and you could feel your cheeks heating up as he grinned sheepishly at you. You drew closer to him, your heart pounding in your ears. “That’s so sweet. That might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, I –”

“Well if that’s true, I need to start getting you some better presents.” His mouth tilted playfully as he rested his hands on your hips. He’d touched you like this a thousand times throughout your friendship, so why, this time, was your stomach flipping inside you? Trying not to let your hands shake, you reached up and twined your arms around his neck. He was head-spinningly close now, and he didn't seem like he minded the proximity in the least. As you reached up the hem of your sweater lifted, leaving his fingers brushing your exposed skin. Your body tingled as his thumb stroked across your back.

“You don’t have to get me anything, B.” Your voice was a hushed murmur – you knew it would tremble if you spoke any louder in the silent corridor.

“What do you want, then?” He gave you a slight, gentle grin. “I’ve got to do better than some olives.” You bit down on your lip nervously, knowing what you truly wanted.

“You.”

As the word left your mouth, your breath hitched in your throat and your mind raced, struggling to read the look in his eyes. What if he didn’t feel the same, what if you’d misinterpreted the situation, what if he never wanted to speak to you again, what if –

His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you flush to his chest and you stopped thinking altogether.

“Are you sure?” His eyes were gentle and his voice almost pleading as he held your gaze, seeming to search for any trace of doubt.

“Positive.” With bated breath, you watched as his eyes darkened. In a second, his lips were on yours, kissing you fiercely.

Salazar. It was like he knew your body like the back of his hand, and in a way, he did. He knew you better than anyone on Earth. One hand twined in your hair as the other explored the bare skin of your back, and you melted into his touch. You gasped softly into his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip past your lips, and he groaned needily as he pressed you up against the stone wall of the corridor. Tugging on the collar of his shirt, you pulled him closer, relishing in the feeling of his skin on yours. Though you’d dreamed of this moment a hundred times, this was better than anything you could’ve imagined. It felt so perfect, like this was what the two of you were meant to be doing all along.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His low, breathless whisper brushed against your lips as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Need you so bad, B.” You pulled him back to you, desperately crashing your lips against his once again. You could feel him grinning against you as he continued to snog you senseless, exploring your skin. An eternity seemed to pass in his arms as you indulged the desire that you’d struggled to suppress for so long.

“Are you two aware that it is now ten minutes past curfew?”

Curfew. Prefects. You’d completely forgotten. By the way you felt Blaise tense beneath your fingers, you could tell he had too. Reluctantly, you pulled away from him, glancing up to see his dark eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

“Run?” The corners of his mouth twitched mischievously as you twined your fingers together with his.

“Run.” Hand-in-hand, the two of you took off down the corridor, sprinting as the Prefect shouted after you.

By the time the two of you arrived back at the Slytherin common room, you were both gasping for breath, chests heaving.

“I think we lost them.” Though you could hardly get the words out, you couldn’t help but giggle as Blaise grinned at you.

“You’re a quick one. We could use you on the Quidditch team.” He winked before murmuring the password and allowing the two of you through the common room door. As you stepped through, you saw your friends lounging on the various sofas and couches in front of the fireplace. It seemed that Enzo and Mattheo were trying to play a game of Wizard’s Chess as everyone else shouted advice at them.

“Enz! If you move your knight to E5 you can capture the rook!” Your friends turned towards you as you provided your input.

“Oh, hey, where have you two been?” Theo glanced nonchalantly at you and Blaise.

“Yeah, we thought that – ” Daphne paused, her eyes narrowing, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion until you followed her gaze and realized that you and Blaise were still holding hands.

“No way.” Mattheo’s mouth fell open as he laughed in disbelief. “No way!”

“Uh, yeah.” Giggling bashfully, you beamed as Blaise wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head.

“Aww, congratulations!” Astoria exclaimed.

Enzo shook his head, chuckling. “Draco’s gonna lose his mind when he realizes that he missed this.”

“Checkmate!” Mattheo raised his arms victoriously as Enzo’s gaze whipped back to his opponent.

“No fair! They distracted me!”

As you and Blaise sank into your usual armchair, you draped your legs over his and leaned into his chest. You both laughed as you watched Mattheo sic his chess pieces on Enzo’s, to the latter’s great protest.

“We’ve still got revising to do, you know.” You sighed reluctantly as you sat up, glancing around the common room in search of your textbooks.

“No, we don’t.” He grinned mischievously as he pulled you back down, his arms capturing you firmly.

You scrunched your nose at him. “You’re a terrible influence, you know.”

“Yeah, but I’m your terrible influence.” As he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, you hummed contentedly. “You’re stuck with me.” With a blissful sigh, you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Good.”

here lies me...

in my bed...

unsnuggled...

three is not a crowd

OR

5 times Chris walks in on you and Matt fucking + 1 time he gets to join in on the fun

pairing: established!matt x reader, chris x reader, matt x reader x chris

summary: what it says on the tin basically

warnings: THREESOME, PURE FILTH, dick riding, oral (female & male receiving), teasing, edging, over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, p in v, slight degradation/praising, slight angst, happy ending yay

word count: 6.9K

author’s note: im a whore for both of them. that is all. (also this has plot, and is mostly beta read but i havent slept in hrs so if some mistakes did slip thru my bad

1

“Hey Matt, have you seen my-” Chris begins to ask as he pushes Matt’s bedroom door open, expecting his brother to either be lazing around in bed or be at his desk, gaming.

What he doesn't expect is the sight he is instead greeted by, of you, Matt’s girlfriend of the last year and a half, astride Matt’s lap, riding his dick while he leans against his headboard, head thrown back and hands grabbing your hips, guiding you, slowly.

Chris is shocked, understandably, and he should just turn around and book it. Instead, he stands frozen, watching the way your head is nestled into the crook of Matt’s neck, your shoulders shaking. If Chris ignores the sound of his own pounding heart, he can almost hear the soft whimpers you’re letting out at each downward thrust of your hips.

At the sound of a soft, deep groan, Chris’ attention shifts to Matt, who has his eyes shut, and his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. There’s something surreal about this scene, seeing Matt, who looks nothing like Chris, but also looks the most like him, fucking this beautiful girl who’s been on his mind for months now.

“Matt…,” he hears you whine loudly against his brother’s neck, and Chris has to grit his teeth, fight against the urge to shove his hands into his pants and fist his growing erection. This shouldn't turn him on so much, hell, he shouldn't even be here right now. He should have run in the opposite direction as soon as he realized what he’d walked in on, but he’s mesmerized by the way you move, your back arching as your hips move back and forth. The slow, sensual, almost hypnotic, movements of your body as you ride Matt’s dick has him clenching his fists, nails digging into his palms and it’s easy to imagine him in Matt’s place as he gets this view of what it might look like to fuck you. Your moans grow louder, and Chris thinks it might be because you’re getting close, and god, he feels so hot underneath his skin.

“Shh baby, didn't you say we needed to be quiet?” Matt whispers against the side of your head. “Can’t have Chris hearing us, can we?”

At the sound of his name, Chris’ heart hammers faster, and he looks up at Matt’s face, only to see that his brother’s gaze was already on him, watching him with a slight smirk before thrusting his hips up, presumably driving his cock deeper into you, making you moan even louder than you already were.

Breaking out of his stupor, Chris stumbles backwards before hightailing it to his room, slamming the door behind him. It takes all of five seconds for him to get his cock out of his sweatpants, furiously jerking off as he leans against his door, biting into the hem of his t-shirt that he’d pulled up over his chest, and only another five seconds before he shoots his cum all over himself.

2

Chris knows its wrong, wanting his brother's girl. This was never a problem before, because any time he found out Matt liked someone, Chris immediately lost interest. It was the brothers’ code; they never fought over girls, and besides, they always just liked different ones.

You, though…it was hard not to like you, even after he found out Matt had his eyes on you.

Chris remembers the first time he met you, how nice you’d been to him and his brothers, how easily you’d fit into their lives. He’s not going to lie and say he’d wanted you right from the start. It was a gradual thing, slowly creeping up on him before he realized what had gotten him.

You just made him feel so comfortable, and surprisingly, the two of you had a lot in common. But then again, you had a lot in common with Matt, and Nick. And yet, you were so different. You were smart, playful, and so, so kind. You were just the right amount of goofy and serious, and you just, fit well into the dynamic Chris and his brothers shared.

It shouldn't have surprised him when Matt eventually told him and Nick that he was into you and planned to ask you out. It all happened so quickly after that. You and Matt had gotten together and, now you weren't just the new friend that Chris and his brothers were always hanging out with, but his brother's (his brother who was also his best friend, really) girlfriend.

Which is why Chris knows it’s fucked up. Wanting you. And he knows it’s even more fucked up that he wishes he could have a repeat of what happened a few weeks ago when he accidentally walked in on you and Matt. The amount of times he’s jacked off to that memory alone the past few nights is insane, his mind supplying images to create his own version of events where he doesn't run away.

Especially fucked up is the fact that Matt had seen him, had looked cocky that he’d caught Chris watching them, and even that fact hadn’t deterred Chris from chasing orgasm after orgasm to the thought of fucking you, imagining how tight and wet your pussy might be, what it might taste like.

Speaking of the fucker who seemed totally unfazed by recent events, Matt sat across Chris, scrolling through his phone, while Nick sat beside him, editing their latest video. Chris was trying his hardest not to flip the fuck out, but his whole nervous system seemed like it was fried. Nick had already yelled at him twice to stop moving so much because he was apparently jostling the table too much, and Matt had just let out a bemused chuckle without lifting his eyes from his phone the entire time.

Just as Chris was about to get up and retreat to him room, the doorbell rings, before Matt gets a series of texts.

“Oh, she’s here-” Matt says, before shooting out of his chair and rushing to great you at the front door.

“Hey, hey, hey!” your cheery voice rings through the hallway, as you and Matt make your way into the kitchen, and Chris almost chokes on the sip of Pepsi he’d just taken because holy fuck-

You were wearing a short, tight black dress that hugged the lines and curves of your body just right, the square neckline barely covering your chest. His eyes slipped further down to the way the fabric of the dress cinched at your waist, and to the slit at the side of the dress that came up to mid-thigh. That and the combination of tall strappy heels you had on made your legs look…really good. So good that Chris wishes he was between those legs, licking a path up your calf to your inner thighs, leaving bruising kisses to mar the smooth, unblemished skin of your legs, before finally, finally-

Nick hoots just then, exclaiming about how hot your fit looks, pulling Chris out of his daze. He watches as you bask in the compliments being showered onto you by both Nick and Matt now, and can't help but smile at the way you try to hide your blushing face.

So, it’s completely out of left field when he sees you again later that night, sitting on the couch with your hands covering your face but this time it’s to hide the loud moans that threaten to slip from your mouth as you watch Matt kneel in front of you, his mouth pressing kisses into your inner thighs…just like Chris had imagined doing earlier.

It’s ridiculous really, how Chris had been feeling slightly normal after dinner with you and his brothers, because as awkward as he may have been feeling about you and Matt, being around you and his brothers, having good food and just laughing about random shit made him feel really fucking good. Like everything was normal and he wasn't fantasizing about fucking his brother’s girlfriend. Like he hadn't accidentally walked in on them fucking.

Of course it’s just his fucking luck that as soon he’s feeling just that slightest bit of normalcy, he’d decided to go to the kitchen and grab a Pepsi from the fridge at 3 AM, only to find his brother about to eat you out on the couch.

“Matt-” you whine, as your back arches off the couch, one of your hands moving to grab Matt’s hair, the other trying and failing to hold back your moans. “Matt, please- nnggh- stop teasing.”

Chris feels all his blood rush down south and it leaves him lightheaded. The low lighting in the room accentuates the shadows of your body and he can see the muscles in your legs flex as your thighs clench around Matt’s head, trying to get him to move his mouth closer to where you want him. You’re not in the tight black dress he’d seen you in earlier, but in a blue baby tee and black lace-trimmed hipster briefs. There’s an almost imperceptible quiver that wracks through your entire body in anticipation for what’s to come.

Matt doesn't keep you waiting for long. Chris' breathing grows even more jagged as he watches Matt’s fingers push your panties to the side before he runs his tongue flat up your pussy. Chris can't see as much as he’d like to, but his overactive imagination does the job for him, imagining how wet you must be.

Chris feels like such a sick perv for still standing there, watching with wide eyes as Matt (his literal brother) enthusiastically licks and kisses your pussy, and he almost wonders how neither of you haven't noticed him yet. Then again, you and Matt seem so lost in each other, and now there’s another ugly thought circling Chris’ brain, one that makes his chest hurt a little.

He forgoes his Pepsi for the night and quietly returns back to his room, cock half-hard, and his heart just the slightest bit heavy.

3

“Alright, what’s going on with you?” Nick asks him, while his eyes are still fixed on his phone.

He and Chris were sitting on the couch (Chris had been avoiding the section that you and Matt had used during your late night rendezvous), and Chris was idly flipping through his Netflix watch list.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Chris says with a heavy sigh, slumping further into the couch.

It’s quiet, and the silence makes Chris look up at Nick, who was already looking at him with a curious frown.

“Seriously, what the fuck is up with you?” Nick asks, and he actually looks concerned, which throws Chris off a bit. “You’re usually bouncing off the walls and annoying the shit out of everyone in your nearest vicinity, but lately you've just been, I don't know- I’m like actually worried, did something happen? Is everything okay?”

Chris swallows around the lump that had formed in his throat and takes a minute. To do what, he doesn't know. It’s not like he’s going to prepare himself to tell Nick what he’d witnessed, twice, and how he was feeling about it. Really, how does one go about telling their triplet brother that they’d accidentally witnessed their other brother in an intimate situation with said brother’s partner, not once, but twice, and had enjoyed it, to the point of having nightly fantasies about it?

There were more complicated feelings lurking just under the surface, more than just Chris wanting to fuck you, but he did not have the mental bandwidth to unpack all that, so that was that. It’s not like he had honest to god feelings-

“See, at this point, you would’ve been yapping away-” Nick says, interrupting his train of thought, “-but instead, you’re just sitting there, looking all sad and miserable.”

“Okay, I don't look sad and miserable,” Chris says with a roll of his eyes. At least, he hopes he doesn't. “I’m just tired dude. Haven't been sleeping well lately.”

“Right.”

“What? It’s the truth.”

“Didn't say you were lying,” Nick says, matter-of-factually, in that signature Nick tone that lets everyone know when he isn't buying their bullshit.

“I’m fine,” Chris says slowly, waiting for Nick to stop looking at him so intensely.

“Sure,” Nick drawls out. “You’re also a shitty liar.”

“Fuck you,” Chris grumbles, chucking the TV remote at Nick, who flails to try and dodge it, letting out an indignant squawk when it bounces off his shoulder and falls to the ground.

This, of course, results in Nick throwing whatever was closest to him at Chris, which happens to be an empty water bottle, and eventually they're just chucking it back and forth, cursing at each other in between laughter.

It’s the most relaxed Chris has felt in weeks.

Too bad you had to walk in at that exact moment.

“Hey guys!” you say cheerily, plopping down on the couch, next to Chris. You’d stayed over for a couple of nights now, as you usually do, and Chris should be extremely used to your presence, except he feels his skin prickle as soon as your close to him, close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating off of your skin.

“God, how are you so chipper every morning?” Nick asks, shaking his head with a poorly hidden smile.

You twirl a strand of your hair around your finger, and bit the corner of your bottom lip. “It helps that I wake up to one of the hottest guys ever, and then get to hang out with his hot as fuck brothers,” you say with a smirk, waggling your eyebrows at Nick.

Chris wishes you hadn't just said that because now his mind wanders (more like sprints) to the memory of this morning, when he’d walked past Matt’s open bedroom. He’d heard the telltale sounds of skin slapping against skin, and your voice, whining Matt’s name over and over, which had him stopping right before Matt’s door, eyes wide, mouth agape. This couldn't be happening right? There was no way he’d walked into this situation for a third time.

Chris debates on whether he should just turn back around, go downstairs, out the front door, and bash his head against a tree, or if he should soldier on and just walk past to get to his room.

The sounds were getting to him. His cock strained against his grey sweatpants, creating a very obvious tent. His clothes suddenly felt a size too small, the air around him too thick, and he felt sweat break out on his forehead. He should leave, run far, far away from his house probably, but a sick part of him wants more than anything to see what’s got you moaning this time.

He rounds the corner and is met with a sight that almost has him falling to his knees.

It’s unfair, how incredibly gorgeous you look straddling Matt’s thighs, bouncing on his dick rhythmically, your head thrown back. You’re leaning back on your hands, supported on Matt’s knees, and Chris watches the way your body undulates as you swivel your hips, ribs flaring as your chest heaves. Every gasp you let out is a punch to Chris’ gut, leaving him feeling winded.

You’re so lost in the throes of pleasure that you don't hear when Chris groans out loud, but he knows exactly when Matt hears him, because his head rolls lazily towards him, his hands that had been grabbing your hips tightening, and there’s little to no warning before Matt’s flipping you over and thrusting into you with vigor.

“Does that feel good baby?” Chris hears Matt ask, his voice rough and low. “Tell me how good my dick makes you feel.”

“Fuck, so good, Matt- please, please, please-” your moans turning into whimpers as Matt’s thrust pick up in pace. Chris can tell exactly when Matt hits the bundle of nerves inside you that has you seeing stars because your back arches off his bed, hands scrambling to find purchase. Your fingers clench into the pillow above your head, as you beg Matt to go harder, faster.

Chris’ eyes bounce back to Matt, who’s watching you in awe, and he’s seen that look on his face numerous times before, like Matt can't get enough of you. Chris’ breath hitches, because he wishes it was him, in Matt’s place. Him, worshiping you, making you feel good. He wishes he was the one that was ripping those sounds out of you.

He catches Matt’s eyes just then, and Chris has never wanted to punch him in the face more than he does in that moment, because it almost feels like he’s mocking Chris.

See what I have, what you so desperately want…

Chris holds up a middle finger, directed at Matt and whatever god was up there who’d clearly forsaken him. He had half the mind to just yell but the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass you. So with a scathing look at Matt, and a mouthed fuck you, he walks to his room, the sound of Matt’s laughter the last thing he hears before Chris angrily slams the door and sheds his clothes, pumping his cock to the memory of your voice.

It’s the hardest he’s cum all week.

4

Chris walks in on Matt pounding you against the wall leading to the garage. At this point, it had to be on purpose. The two of you had to be planning this, because how was it always Chris that ended up walking in on them, and not Nick? Knowing his brother, Nick would’ve gone around voicing his disgust at having caught you and Matt fucking, any chance he got.

So, it had to be on purpose.

Matt’s whispering dirty things in your ear, loud enough for Chris to hear every word.

“You’re so fucking pretty baby-”

“I want to ruin you, want you to feel me for days-”

“You’re such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?” and that has you letting out a particularly loud whine. The next bit Matt whispers into your ear is too inaudible for Chris to comprehend but he can tell how much it affects you, because you absolutely lose it just then.

Fuck this. Fuck all of this.

“Can y’all stick to fucking in Matt’s bed?”

At the sound of Chris’ voice, you look up at him, startled, and it’s electrifying, your stare. Chris sees your eyebrows furrow, your lips, plump from being bitten (by yourself, or Matt, who cares at this point), fall open. Matt’s shoulders stiffen for a second, so Chris knows he’s aware that Chris is right behind them, but the asshole just keeps fucking going. And you, you’re still staring.

“Chris-” you gasp, your nails digging into Matt’s shoulder. Chris thinks you’re going to push him away, scramble to pull yourself together.

You surprise him by pushing back down onto Matt’s cock with even more fervor, your hands moving up Matt’s neck to grab onto his hair, pulling hard.

Chris watches you cum on Matt’s cock for the first time that night, all while your eyes were locked on his.

5

Chris doesn't like being angry. He very rarely is. And usually, he gets over it really quick.

Which is why it’s shocking to everyone when he gets cold and hostile towards Matt seemingly out of nowhere, and the anger doesn't subside.

It gets in the way of their work. Filming becomes exhausting, and it leaves all three brothers feeling frustrated and annoyed at each other.

It’s in the middle of filming a new car video when it all goes to head. Nick and Matt had attempted to film a video, but Chris couldn’t hold back the jabs at Matt, interrupting him every time he spoke, insulting him for no reason whatsoever, which only made Matt retaliate just as hard.

“That’s it-” Nick yells, his hands pushing his hair out of his face in frustration. “I’ve fucking had it with you two. I’m getting the fuck out of this car and the two of you are going to stay in here and talk. Don’t even bother coming back in until you sort out whatever-” he gestures wildly between Matt and Chris, “-is going on with you two!”

And with that, Nick storms back into their house.

Chris stares out of the window with his arms crossed, seething. He can tell Matt is looking at him, can see part of his reflection on the window, but Chris isn’t going to give him the satisfaction of breaking first.

Matt, much to Chris’ annoyance, was completely calm and collected.

“Chris-” Matt begins to say, but Chris just chucks his empty Pepsi can at him without looking. He hears it clatter against something (the steering wheel, he thinks), before dropping down onto the car floor with a dull thud.

Matt sighs, and Chris wants to yell, because Chris is the one that should be huffing and sighing, he’s the one that’s tired of all this bullshit.

“Are you trying to prove something?” Chris asks, because he never could stay quiet for too long. “Is that it? What the actual fuck Matt?”

Chris had fully turned to face Matt, who at least had the decency to look somewhat abashed now. His face was tinged pinked, and he was fiddling with his rings.

Chris continues. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but if you’re just trying to get me to see she’s your girl, I fucking get it, okay? You’ve made that really fucking clear. Did I say or do something to warrant this shit, because if you think I’m out to get her, I’m not, okay? Jesus- do you know how fucking insane-”

“She wants you bro.”

Chris blinks. He opens his mouth, and then shuts it.

“I used to catch her staring at you sometimes, and there were times she’d just keep scrolling through pictures of the two of us together- you and me, I mean- and…I don’t know, she’d have this look on her face.” Matt trails off. He looks at Chris, trying to gauge his reaction so far, but truth be told, Chris was still trying to process what Matt had initially said.

“What…?”

“Look, the two of us are happy together. I love her, she loves me, but I think she…” Matt coughs out, and it’s the first time since this whole thing has started that Chris has seen Matt this awkward. “She’s into you too. She never really told me, but it got pretty obvious after a while. And eventually, I- I started bringing you up, when we- um, yeah. She wants us both.”

Chris starts laughing. Because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Alright, good prank dude- I’m still so fucking mad at you but-”

“I’m not kidding, Chris.”

Right. Because why would Matt joke about something like this?

“Um…”

“Yeah…”

And that’s how Chris finds himself back in Matt’s room. You and Matt were sitting on his bed, albeit a little far apart, meanwhile Chris had taken a seat in Matt’s gaming chair. Chris almost wants to call the two of you out on the pure torture you’d put him through the past few weeks, but one look at your face has him abandoning that train of thought.

You look so…remorseful. You’re slightly curled in on yourself, like you’re bracing for some sort of attack, and Chris’ heart melts. The last thing he wants is for you to feel upset, so he tries to lighten the mood.

“So, do you just wanna see which one of us has the better dick or-?”

He smiles as you sputter, eyes wide as you finally look up at him.

“There we go,” Chris whispers. “You’re finally looking at me.”

“Chris…I’m so sorry,” you whisper, lips trembling. “God, this is so stupid, why did we decide to tell him-”

“Hey, hey-” Chris chides. “I think I’ve been kept in the dark long enough, actually. I just wish y’all hadn’t used such a weird ass fucking way to tell me.”

“Well, to be fair, she didn’t even know you’d seen us that first couple of times,”

“Oh, god-”

“-And, we kinda assumed you’d take the fucking hint or something.”

“Yeah, I thought the hint was ‘I know you wanna fuck my girl, so I’m gonna make sure you catch us fucking every chance we get so you stay the fuck away’,” Chris says with a raised brow, staring deadpan at Matt.

“Wait, what-” you start, but you’re interrupted by Matt.

“Yeah, he’s wanted to fuck you for a while too.”

And that's how Chris finds himself with a front row view of Matt fucking you, up close and personal. Matt has you on all fours, facing Chris, while he pounds into you from behind, hard and deep. Each thrust punches a high-pitched moan out of you, and Chris watches, enraptured by the way you take it.

Chris watches to his heart's content that night, no longer worried about getting caught, no longer stressed about wanting to fuck you.

Chris watches you fall apart in Matt's hands over and over, and all he can think about is when he can finally have his turn.

+ 1

They’d had to wait for the perfect moment, a night they could be sure none of them would be interrupted.

They'd been planning for this night for a few days now, and it was finally here.

Chris and Matt stand side-by-side in front of Matt’s bed, arms crossed over their chest as they watch you squirm in his bed, their combined attention making you nervous. They’re both barely dressed, Chris in a black tank top and grey sweatpants, the front of which were already tented from his hard dick, while Matt was just in his black boxers. The low lighting of the room made Matt’s rings glisten as he rubbed at the stubble that he’d slowly allowed to grow on his face.

“How are we feeling, baby?” Matt asks you, smirking at the way you visibly gulp. “You ready for us?”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, looking up at Chris through your lashes before nodding.

That’s all the cue he needs.

Chris stalks over to you, slowly, climbing over the bed and crawling over you, his hands landing on either side of your head as he holds himself above you. You lay back, your hair fanning around your head on the pillow, your eyes wide as you wait for Chris’ next move.

“Can I kiss you?” Chris asks, wetting his lips, and he doesn’t have to wait long for his answer. Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling at the strands close to his nape, bringing his lips onto yours. The kiss is heady, a wild mess of tongue and teeth, because you’d both been waiting for this, dying for it, and here it was, finally happening.

“Chris-” you gasp, open mouth sliding over the hot skin of his cheek as he lowers his head to the crook of your neck, biting harsh kisses into the skin there, before tracing his tongue across your jaw.

“Fuck, fuck- you smell so good, I need you so bad ma-” Chris blabbers, his brain-to-mouth filter long gone. He vaguely registers Matt settling onto the bed, leaning against the headboard, as Chris kisses a path down your body, laving every inch of skin he can access with nips and kisses. You arch your back as Chris circles one of your nipples with his tongue, sucking on it as he flicks the other. He alternates between kissing and nipping your nipples, all the while, you have an almost painful grip on his hair, pushing your chest harder into his face.

Matt watches your face intently, seeing the way your features scrunch up in pleasure, mouth wide open as you gasp and whine. There’s a small part of him that knows he shouldn’t be so okay with his own brother having his way with his girlfriend, but it’s almost like he gets a 4K view of what it might usually look like when Matt’s the one doing these things to you.

Chris continues his path downwards, fingers hooking into the sides of your panties and slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulling them off of you. Your legs instinctively squeeze shut when the cold air hits your wet core, but Chris’s hands gently pry them open, staring at you in wonder.

“You’re so fucking wet, fuck-” Chris groans, before licking a stripe up the seam where your thigh meets your crotch, so close to where you actually want his tongue.

“Please, please-” you whimper, pushing your hips up closer to his lips, feeling his hot breath fan over you pussy. You hear both him and Matt chuckle, before Chris has his mouth on you, licking the wetness gathered in your folds. All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and the obscene sounds of Chris’s mouth as he eats you out like a man starving.

It’s almost too much, the way he’s sucking on your clit, before pushing his tongue into you, his face pushed deep, you’re sure he can’t breath. The pleasure builds, heat pooling low in your stomach. You feel Matt’s fingers brush against your forehead, pushing the hair that was starting to stick to it from all the sweat.

“You feel good baby?” Matt asks, tone soft, but his eyes glint dangerously. “One of us wasn’t enough for you, was it? You’re such a dirty girl, wanting me and my brother.”

You whine, head pushing against his thigh closest to your head. Chris laughs, pulling his head back to chime in.

“Greedy little slut, that’s what she is,” he says, cheeks rosy and face glistening from the nose down, his chin absolutely soaking wet. “You gonna cum soon ma?”

You don’t even know what you respond with, just that Chris goes back to eating you out, this time, bringing his fingers to your entrance, sliding one finger, then two, into your sopping wet cunt as he licks random paths across your folds, occasionally circling your clit and sucking on it harshly, all while thrusting his fingers in and out of you, causing you to buck your hips up wildly. Your orgasm, only the first one of the night, is fast approaching, and your thighs clench around Chris’ head. The only warning he gets is a sudden yell of his name before you gush all over his face.

“Did you just- did she just squirt?” Chris asks, eyes wide as he takes in the mess that you’d made. His face and neck were now fully wet, and there was a perfectly round wet spot right underneath you. His fingers flutter over your now slightly puffy pussy, watching your folds quiver.

“Fuck, it’s too much- Chris, wait,” you whine, hands moving to grab Chris’ wrist. He doesn’t stop with his ministrations though, fingers pumping in and out of you, prodding at the bundle of nerves inside you that caused your vision to white out. It was fast, intense, and Chris manages to pull a second orgasm out of you before you’d even managed to catch your breath from the first one.

Chris sits up on his knees, reaching his arms behind him and pulling his tank top off, throwing it behind him. He hooks his arms around your thighs before pulling you down the bed, closer to him, allowing Matt to slot himself behind you.

“Can you turn over for me ma?” Chris asks with a gentle pat against your hip. It takes some effort, your limbs feel loose and languid, but you manage to flip onto your stomach. Hands grab your face, tipping your head up, and you see your boyfriend looking at you with a smirk, tongue peeking out to run across his teeth.

“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” he asks, voice like dripping honey with a hint of something razor-sharp. “This everything you imagined?”

“Yes- oh god, Matt- I need you, please-”

“You have me baby,” he coos. “You have me and Chris. That’s what you wanted, right? ‘Cause one dick was never enough to keep you satisfied.”

“Ngghh- please, please, I-” you whimper, mouthing at Matt’s dick through his boxers, startled when you feel a sudden smack against your ass, pain blossoming across your skin.

“If she’s already this cock dumb, I wonder how she’s gonna get when we actually get our dicks in her,” Chris wonders out loud with an amused huff, palming at your ass cheeks as he rubs his clothed dick against it.

You continue begging, your pussy soaking wet and clenching around nothing in anticipation for what’s to come, hips arching off the bed while your back dips low, shoulders tucked between Matt’s spread thighs as you lick him through the only piece of fabric that is keeping you from tasting him, from having his cock fill your mouth.

Chris smooths his palm down your back, making you arch your back even further, before he spreads your cheeks, seeing the way you twitch at being put on display.

“I think she’s waited long enough, hasn’t she?” Matt asks Chris, nodding his head slightly as if to tell Chris to get on with it. Chris doesn’t waste any time pushing his sweats down his thighs, freeing his cock. You turn your head back to try and peek at it from over your shoulder, but Matt has a firm hand on your head pushing you towards his crotch while he pulls his dick out of his boxers. With one hand holding the back of your head, and the other around his dick, Matt slaps it against your cheek, amused at the way you so desperately try and get him to guide his cock into your mouth instead.

Simultaneously, Chris is behind you, rubbing the tip of his dick through your folds, gathering the wetness there. Above you, you feel Matt lean towards his dresser, before rifling through the top drawer and chucking something at Chris. There’s a sound of a bottle cap clicking open, and lube being squeezed out, before you hear the squelch of it as Chris spreads it over his dick.

Later, you’ll think they must have planned this head of time, but both Matt and Chris decide to push their dicks into you at the same time, Matt feeding you his cock, pushing past your lips, applying gentle pressure to the back of your head, while Chris spreads your folds apart and drives his dick into you, the tip catching inside you for a moment, before he thrusts his hips and pushes his dick deeper into you.

“Look at that,” Chris says, smacking the palms of both his hands onto your cheeks at the same time, before kneading at them. “She takes dick really fucking well.”

“It’s like she’s made for it, isn’t she?”

Chris fucks you like he has all the time in the world, savoring the feeling of your pussy clenching around him, fascinated by the sight of his dick disappearing in you at every thrust. You stretch around him so beautifully, and you’re so fucking tight, he wonders how he managed to fit it all in you in one go.

At the other end, Matt watches you with soft affection as you suck on his cock, tears streaming down your face from the exertion on your body and minimal air supply. At every thrust of Chris’ hips, you would get pushed closer to Matt, which would push his dick deeper into your mouth, making you almost gag on it.

You have no concept of time anymore, or where your body starts and Chris’ and Matt’s end. You feel like one big mess of limbs, moving fluidly, with the common purpose of chasing your orgasm. You hear Matt’s groans getting louder above you, and you know he’s getting close. You’re not far behind yourself, but Chris still seems like he’s nowhere close to being done.

Pulling your mouth off of Matt’s cock, you circle your hand around the base of it, before stroking your hand up and down, twisting it around the head. You swipe your thumb across the slit at the top while you tongue at the underside of the head, all while looking up at Matt through hooded eyes.

“Cum on my face, Matt, please-” you beg, mouth slightly open, a line of spit connecting your tongue to his dick. Chris' thrusts are picking up, but you keep your elbows planted firmly on the bed below to keep yourself steady for Matt. There’s a tingle building low in your spine, but you focus on Matt, the way he looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His hair is a mess, and his body is flushed. The hand he has on your head grips your hair tight, and the other joins your hand in pumping his dick. It only takes a few more seconds of that before Matt lets out a loud groan of your name, spurts of thick, hot cum landing across your face, and you close your eyes as it drips down your face, some of it landing on your tongue.

Matt leans back heavily against the headboard, and before you can register anything, you’re being flipped onto your back, face still covered in Matt’s cum. Your shoulders hit Matt’s chest as Chris crowds against you on the bed, his hands now on the back of your knees, pushing your legs back against your chest, before thrusting his dick back into you.

The sudden shift has you blinking back stars, and this new angle has Chris’ dick brushing against your sweet spot on every thrust, and all you can do is sob at the immense pleasure you feel. Matt circles his arms around you, one hand playing with one of your nipples, while the other moves down your stomach and edges closer to your clit. The tingling sensation grows, and grows, your hands scrambling to find purchase on Chris’ shoulders as he thrusts particularly deep into you before you finally snap, screaming as your third orgasm is ripped from you, the force of it pushing Chris’ cock out of you as you squirt all over him, yourself, and the bed, legs shaking uncontrollably.

You’re fully gasping and sobbing now, the intensity of your orgasm wracking through your whole body. You watch through hooded, teary eyes, as Chris leans over you, furiously stroking his cock as he soaks in the view of you, hot and messy, ruined because of him, before he too eventually reaches his orgasm, cum pulsing out of him and landing high on your chest, across your nipples, one spurt even hitting your chin.

The three of you are a heaping mess of limbs after, all basking in the afterglow of a night well spent, tired, but satiated. Matt and Chris lay on either side of you, stroking whatever part of your skin they can reach, occasionally batting each other’s hands away and pulling you closer to either side, like you’re not all squished together already.

“We should do that again sometime,” you say after a long beat of silence. Matt snorts, eyes closed, but the corners of his lips are quirked up in a small smile.

“Y’all are crazy if you think I’m never fucking you again after I just got a taste,” Chris states. “Besides, I think there’s a lot of lost time I need to make up for, hm?”

After that night, Chris gets to have his turn with you, over and over. Sometimes, Matt is present, and the brothers somehow always turn things into a competition of who can make you cum the quickest, who can make you cum multiple times, who can make you absolutely incoherent by the end of the night.

Now Chris had his own reason for always being so chipper in the morning. It helps that he finally gets to fuck the hottest girl he’s seen, who just happens to also be fucking his brother.

author’s note: i put too much fucking effort into an idea that essentially started as a joke, its gonna be so funny if this flops because i literally stayed up till 4 am twice in a row to write this lmao- anyways, let me know what you think! my inbox is open and waiting for your thoughts (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @kvtie444 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @55sturn @chrisopeningabag

AAAAAAHHH TOO GOOD

Reunion | dob

Word Count: 4.6k Rating: M Summary: Doesn't matter how long you've waited for it; it's always worth it. | Also on Ao3! Warnings: (the usual, minors dni etc) praise, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected sex (+creampie), marking??, pretty boy is always in charge <3, overstimulation, brief somnophilia + masturbation mentions, they're so in love, no use of y/n as always A/N: this is my belated x(xx)mas gift to u. mwah ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

You couldn’t blame anyone but yourself, not really.

It was always like this. Maybe it would’ve worked if your back was flat against your mattress, in solitude at eleven at night. You always fell asleep, so content, within minutes. But succumbing to your desires, utilizing your free will to make yourself tremble and squirm during the daylight hours of three in the afternoon while he’s out there, so sexy and so unaware… it was over as soon as you turned the faucet to hot.

There was nothing like cumming in the shower; maybe it was the adrenaline of holding yourself upright at the risk of shattering the glass door or maybe it was the rough pulse setting of your showerhead. Who knows.

There couldn’t have been a better–more scorching–late spring afternoon after days of uncharacteristic gloom. Your late-morning was spent lounging by the pool, grazing on cubed pineapple and hiding greedy looks at Dylan’s body behind your sunglasses. It’d been nearly a week since you’d last had him; he was fresh off a red-eye from his sibling’s birthday celebrations on the east coast. The early flight, coupled with Tommy’s insistence on taking him to a show at a bar in the East Village last night, meant he was schlubbing around all day, falling in and out of a day-long nap. You could admit it was cute when he dozed off on the lounge chair, cap brim low on his face and chin on his chest, but it reached a breaking point when you were sprawled on the couch together, his large hand cupping your breast and a soft snore in your ear. His grip was loose, allowing you to slide easily from his arms, slink to your room, and grab your bathrobe.

Your skin felt warm when you stepped onto the cool tile, still deciding between waiting it out and dealing with the thud in your cunt. You stood beneath the stream, feeling the hot water funnel into the main line as the shower temperature quickly rose from frigid to steaming. You were focused at first, fingers diligently massaging shampoo into your scalp, but they roamed a little further while you scrubbed your torso. With a sigh, you reached for the chrome showerhead and twisted to change the water pressure. It’s quick, you thought. He’d likely still be asleep by the time you left the bathroom, so gorgeous but so unavailable. 

And it was quick, but it also left your knees rattling and head spinning from the thick, waterlogged air. Tiny shockwaves are still traveling up your body when you step out onto the plush bath mat, intensifying as the cold bathroom air rushes past your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. A tiny whine escapes your lips as you shimmy into your fleece bathrobe and wrap a towel around your head. Looking at yourself in the mirror is a struggle of its own, a visible warmth spread across your face and a well-bitten bottom lip alerting you to the levels of your own arousal. You grunt when you step away, attempting to designate your urges to after dinner, and instead thinking about if you need to take anything out of the freezer to defrost. 

“Hi,” Dylan’s soft greeting is a surprise when you step out of the bathroom into your shared bedroom. He’s lying on his side, head resting on his elongated arm and phone screen-down on the bed. His eyes look tired, but his silhouette glows in the light from the window. Dark green sweatpants hang low on his hips, exposing the elastic of his underwear. 

“Hi.” You hang your hair towel up behind the bathroom door and begin to walk towards him. “Looking for me?”

“Mmhm.” You twirl a lock of his chestnut hair around your pointer finger, enjoying the length before he inevitably buzzes it all off. “S’boring out there, every episode of Curb is the same.”

“Yeah?” He shifts, sitting up to swing his legs over the side of the bed and face you. “You know what happened during the episodes you were asleep for?” Your hand is in his and he pulls it to rest on his cheek. 

“Yeah.” He smiles up at you. “Larry David acts like an asshole, gets what he deserves, goofy end credits song, repeat.” You refrain from rolling your eyes as you settle into his lap, your knees on either side of his body.

“Hm. You’re right,” you mumble between pressing kisses into the scratchy skin of his cheek. One of his hands settles comfortably on your lower back. “That’s it? You came to find me because you were bored?”

“I missed you.” Dylan’s free hand travels up your thigh until he is forearm-deep beneath your robe. “Woke up an’ you were gone.” The water droplets on your skin provide no retaliation to his hot breath on your neck. Something about it makes you want to curve your spine to press your chest to his. Would he feel the rattle behind your breastbone? Could he feel the heat from between your legs, so deftly pressed against the lump in the front of his sweatpants? “Had a dream about you.”

You’re certain now you’re both on the same page, but you pull back and narrow your eyes at him anyway. “Just now?” He narrows his eyes right back at you, a playful smile teasing the corners of his lips. His eyes are a decadent shade of brown as they gaze sleepily into yours. 

“Maybe it’s been recurrent.” He shrugs as if he has no clue what you’re talking about, but you catch a glint of mischief in his look. His hands are moving now, one groping your outer thigh and the other fiddling with the fabric rope keeping your bathrobe tied shut. 

You almost fall into him at that moment. The flood between your legs only feels more and more apparent since you’d hooked the shower head to its mount and twisted the faucet tightly to the left. Instead of finding comfort against his mouth or alerting him to the wet spot you’re leaving in his lap, you blurt out, “You wanna tell me about it?”

“Would rather show you.” His lips lock onto yours, arms pressing your body into his, molding yourself around him. He’s diligent and in control, mouth firm and domineering against yours. His tongue is soft and wetter than yours, with access to it allowing you to taste a hint of sweetness and tobacco. His hands roam dutifully across the hems of your garment, pushing the fabric off your shoulder and loosening the belt around your waist. Dylan’s back falls to the bed, tugging you down with him. Your robe is splayed open now, caught on your shoulders and thighs. His mouth disconnects from yours to watch you, properly feel you softly grinding yourself against him. It’s almost enough to make you self conscious, but his gaze is always so soft when you’re at your most vulnerable. He doesn’t haphazardly grasp at your body as you lean over him; his hands are deliberately placed on your upper thighs, ghosting feather-light circles into your skin. The sensation makes you slightly ticklish, immediately sending electricity up your spine and goosebumps rippling across your skin. How he knew that would get your nipples pointed and directly in front of his face, you’d never know. You’re not being watched by Dylan, you’re being seen. “You like using me, huh angel?” It’s posed as a question, but you don’t need to answer. You just press your hands to his stomach, your center to the firm bulge in his pants. “Mine,” he says quietly to himself, greedily holding you by your hips and guiding your movements. It’s not enough, but you can feel a pool slowly form in your lower stomach as he works your cunt against his increasingly hard cock. His hips press harder into yours as he moves, fucking into you. You surrender control over your core to him entirely, letting him scrape his clothed cock into your swollen center, twitching when he’d move just right. Your nails leave crescent shaped marks as you hold tightly to his sides. You’re trembling, soft sighs escaping your lips with each swipe of his hips. “Is this really how you wanna cum, sweetheart? Like you’re a teenager again, can’t control yourself?” The condescension dripping from his tongue is almost enough to send you over the edge right then and there. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” You whimper pitifully as he halts your movements and pushes you onto your back. 

“Thought you’d take it as a compliment if I came on your pants.” Your breathing is shallow, eyes watching the way he leans over you, caging you onto the bed with his body.

“Mm.” Dylan’s thinking about it, even if he’s pretending to be preoccupied with touching you. The shift in his eye contact and slight bob in his throat is what gives him away. “Yeah… I have some other ideas, though.” He absentmindedly traces up your stomach, under your breasts, to your collarbone. “My dream, remember?” His tired eyes shine as they look down at you. He is deliberate in his touches, your skin sensitive and lower abdomen incredibly keyed-up. 

“I’ve been so good,” you pant, letting your hands roam across the firmness of his chest to his shoulders, then his triceps. “Missed you.”

“I believe it,” he says off-handedly, too busy determining whether to attack your collarbone with his tongue or his teeth. “Thank you for picking me up from the airport this morning.” The sentence comes out muffled; he chose teeth. 

“You’re so welcome,” you sigh. “But that’s not what I meant.” You hook your right knee around his thigh and he holds it in place. “You’ve been so busy snoozin’... I’m feeling a little neglected.” He licks his lips as he stares down at you. You’re looking up at him from beneath your lashes, seemingly too bashful for what stumbles from your mouth next. “Maybe it’s unfair, but I was hoping you’d fuck me when we got home this morning.” His eyes, calculating and a remarkably burnt umber color, remain steady as they bore into yours. He’s always so much better at this than you are. “Maybe in front of the mirror by the entryway.” You swallow. Your voice is small, mind distant with nothing but his body keeping you grounded in reality. “Or against the front door.” You guide his hand down your stomach, over your stubbly pubic mound to the dampness that has been accumulating for what feels like hours. It probably has been hours. His eyebrows shoot up. It was only seven in the morning when you’d gotten back, the golden warmth of sunrise peeking through the ornate crystal gaps in your wooden front door. Dylan looked beautiful in the light, especially with a duffel over his shoulder and raccoon circles around his eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart.” You feel yourself falling into your favorite dynamic as your senses become overloaded with him. Dylan is bigger than you’d think from afar, experiencing no issue trapping you between his arms and beneath his body; his gentle breathing, smelling faintly of spearmint and American Spirits, fans over your skin. He’s looking at you like you’re dinner, but something in his eyes tells you he’s going to savor it. “You’ve been so patient, haven’t you?” The hand you placed over your cunt is lazily spreading your pleasure between your folds, brushing past your clit and occasionally circling your trembling hole at excruciating intervals. His other hand travels everywhere, brushing wet hair from your face to ghosting around your neck and gently caressing your breasts. “All day, bet you were soaked for me the whole time, my good girl.” Your eyes roll back and you feel your chest cave in with your breath. “You could’ve said something, y’know.” It comes out almost like a purr and electricity zips up your spine.

“If you hadn’t passed out every fifteen minutes,” you bite. He pinches your nipple sharply between his pointer finger and thumb in response to your attitude, resulting in a yelp escaping your throat. Luckily, it’s the only punishment you get.

“Baby, you know what you want is always alright with me.” You swallow as you watch him intently, your eyes flickering between his eyes and lips, unsure of his next move. “You know how incredible it would’ve been,” he pauses his movements between your legs and shifts his arms to the sides of your head before continuing, “seeing you needing me, in my sleep, taking me like I know you can… to wake up to you messy, doe-eyed, and gagging all over me?” Your face is hot, you’re sweating, and you’re squirming under his firm gaze. “You’d like that too, huh? Be honest, my love. You trust me, don’t you?” His voice is satiny to your ears. Your vision is blurred by pure adrenaline and adoration. The dryness in your mouth prevents speech, but you nod weakly, ready to succumb to whatever he wants to do. “Say it.” His fingers press into your cheeks and puff your lips forward. “You’ll get anything you want as long as you keep talking, keep telling me how much you want it.” His hand rests gently on your mound, feeling like a promise.

“Yes.” It’s hoarse, but it’s there. “Yes, please.”

“I want to hear you, okay? I know you love it, angel, but I need to hear how good I can  make my pretty girl feel.” His voice falls to a whisper. “You don’t know how hard it is to be away from you.” Dylan is always like this after returning from a trip, thoughts jumbled from lustfully depraved and tenderly sweet, fighting urges that exist somewhere in between. “No one is like you…” He loses himself in the kisses he’s pressing to your shoulder, your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. “No one can make me feel the way you do.” His hands move sporadically across your torso, grasping at your skin haphazardly. “Not in this lifetime, anyway.” 

You whine at his touch and words, head spinning but wholly devoted to him. “I love you.” It comes out quietly, a pledge kept solely between you two. A layer of static feels like it is embedded into the top layer of your skin. His fingers are gentle and precise; his pointer and middle finger nestle themselves comfortably around your clit, squeezing occasionally as he moves his fingers vertically. There’s no chance you’ll last under these conditions and there’s no way he doesn’t know it. You’re not in control of your movements against his fingers; you’d be embarrassed by the arhythmic pace of your hips, but you’re too honed in to his touch to care. You’re not even sure what you’re doing, but you know his eyes are illuminated by the light from the window and the look he’s giving you is all-consuming. You also know it feels good. “Dylan,” you whisper. You move your hands from his neck to his shoulder and bicep; he may like being scratched and squeezed, but it doesn't mean he wants a punctured jugular. “I don’t think–” A soft gasp bubbles up your throat. The sheer consistent repetitive movement of his fingers are  increasingly enough. 

“It’s okay… it’s okay.” Dylan’s mouth covers yours, almost overwhelmingly. His breath is hot as it mingles with yours, your tongue desperately needy in his mouth. The knee hooked around his thigh shifts to rest on his lower back. Your hand slides from his bicep, down the front of his chest rather clumsily until it reaches the elastic of his sweatpants. A frustrated rumble emanates from your chest. You’re surprised he’s had the self control to keep them on this long, especially given the tent he was pitching. Your hand breaches the drawstring, fingers dipping past the elastic of his underwear.  “You wan’ me to feel you, sweetheart?” He nips at your bottom lip, already so raw you taste a metallic warmth slowly dripping  into your mouth as soon as his teeth make contact. Something about the action and the sharp, but sweet flavor on your tongue feels carnal, your mind sinking to its most feral form. Your fingers dip entirely into his tight boxers, thumb spreading the stickiness from his slit to the bottom of his head. His hips jerk slightly to your touch and your second hand slinks to palm the hot girth in his pants. “Always so considerate, my girl’s always thinking of me.” You nod, out of breath and drunk on the feeling of his middle finger being smoothly inserted into your slick. When he’s successfully knuckle deep, he pulls out and reinserts, adding his pointer finger. You can’t control the sounds that leak from your mouth when he licks at the droplets of blood that have re-emerged from the cracks in your lips. “It’s okay, baby, don’t worry. Let go for me.” He taps his thumb on your bud and you grip tightly to his fingers. You feel ragged, tired from both incessantly thinking about being your boyfriend’s little fuck doll and actually following through on your shared desire. The pool in your lower stomach has only been expanding, tendrils of pleasure seeping up your back, through your limbs. There’s no way to hold on, not with his voice in your ear and his fingers in your cunt.  “Promise next time it’ll be around my cock, but I need you to come now.” With a final flick at your clit, at his instruction, the dam breaks. Your hips flick forward, back arching to press your stomach firmly into him. The trembling in your thighs feels like it rocks through your whole body. His fingers fuck you through it, the squelching noises almost embarrassingly sinful. You’re leaking as Dylan pulls his fingers out from your center, coated in your own creaminess. He presses them into your mouth, watching intently as you circle them with your tongue. He seems satisfied by your method, pulling the fingers out and replacing them with a quick peck. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, brushing against his with each breath. “My girl,” he breathes. “My girl, my good girl.” His thumb gently caresses the upper part of your cheek.. “I love you. You’re gonna give it to me again, sweetheart.”

“Off,” you mumble as your hands shakily tug at his underwear. He assists, shooing your hands away to swiftly remove himself of his garments. You use the shift in his weight and attention to your advantage, pushing Dylan onto his back. He’s gorgeous–looking angelically warm in the afternoon light and body hair deliciously untrimmed. You swallow the saliva that floods your mouth as your vision hones in on the twitching, sticky cock resting on his stomach. It’s pure instinct, the way you lean over his lower half, tongue readily lubricating his tip. You pump your spit down his shaft until you’re able to get the first four inches into your mouth.

“I don’t think this was part of my dream, pretty girl.” His verbal attempt at protest is weak while his hand is firmly in your still-damp hair, steadying your head to take him further. In response, you reshift your tongue’s focus to his head, while your saliva-coated hands tug at the base of his cock and balls. 

“It’s not a dream of yours to get head from me?” You look up at him for only a few seconds, caught in his lidded yet bemused gaze, before redirecting your attention back to your favorite plaything. 

“Definitely not what I meant. You’re…” He trails off and pulls your head up by your hair. His hand moves to cup your jaw, his thumb wiping spit off your chin. “Come here. Would rather finish inside of you.” There’s nothing he can say that you won’t agree to. Especially not the most fulfilling way of feeling his. You clamber up his torso and he sits up to meet you in the middle. You unceremoniously fist his dick, swiping his head through your folds and beginning to press it into your core. From your perspective, playtime is over; no need to drag it out further when it’s already been a week without each other. “Eht–! Tsk.” His hand is on your throat, lifting you slightly as he pulls his head out from your quivering hole. It falls onto his stomach with a wet, heavy thud. “Let me.” Your jaw is slack, breath whizzing past your lips as your pussy clenches at the loss of his stretch. He lets go of your neck, moving his hand down to the hollow of your collarbone. Gently, he pushes your shoulder, body falling backwards onto the bed. He towers over you, perfectly silhouetted in front of the window. He pauses after placing his hands on your inner thighs and spreading you, one knee perpendicular to your crotch and the other pulled up by your shoulder. His fingers glide across the smooth skin of your inner thighs without purpose.

You jokingly rasp, “Won’t let me be in charge, but you haven’t decided what you’re gonna do to me?” He shifts his gaze from your little box, gaping and thumping for him, and narrows his eyes at you.

“Debating if I’m gonna break my promise or not.” Your heart nearly stops.

“What do you mean?” The fingers on your left hand tangle with his as you stare, wide eyed at his pretty, stubbly face. There’s no possibility he wouldn’t finish the job, not by now. He crouches further down the bed, head nearly resting on your lower stomach.

“You think you can handle three today for me, sweetheart?” Oh. His face is so close, you can feel his cool breathing against your warm dampness. You swallow the saliva that has built up in your mouth. “I’m sorry. I’ll get to it eventually, I swear.” His fingers spread you open and he leaves a soft kiss on your clit. “Jus’ missed you. Please?”

“Yes,” you breathe. He wastes no time pressing his flat tongue along the entirety of your slick. “Whatever you want.” 

He groans in protest, the vibrations making you gasp. “Whatever you want.” Your hands find his hair, a little oily and just long enough that he looks ruggedly sexy when his beard is grown out. He’s going for the gold, suckling and circling your clit directly with his tongue, well aware that you’re sensitive enough to flood his mouth in under a minute if he plays his cards right. It’s an ego thing for him, knowing exactly how to take care of you. He’s certain no one could make you fall apart the way he can and today he would prove it to himself again. Prove it to you. “You’ve been so lonely without me, huh?” His tongue flicks slow down, but the pressure against your slit increases. “How many nights did you go to bed thinking the time difference fucked you over? Did you think of me when you couldn’t get me on the phone?”

“Dylan.” A wringing motion comes from deep inside of your gut, alerting you to your incoming orgasm.

“Answer me.” His stern voice cuts through the air and reverberates against your cunt. “I know your fingers aren’t enough. Were you left unsatisfied without me here to make you feel good?”

“Yes,” you pant. “I need you. All I can do is think about you when you’re gone. Please keep going, I need you.” He places his thumb right above your clit and pulls to stretch it upwards. With one final thick swipe of his tongue, he has your eyes rolling and fingers pulling his hair. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, pressing his face further into your flooding core as your hand holds him exactly where it feels best. He’s literally moaning into you as he laps you up, occasionally praising your receptiveness and taste. When you let go of his hair and begin to jerk your hips away from his face, he pulls away.

“Good?” He sits up and wipes his mouth on his forearm. You nod weakly, hands wobbly as you attempt to touch his knees. You’re pounding and leaking still, limbs incredibly heavy. With no hesitation, he presses his cock into your weary little hole, messy and slick from your cum and his spit. All of the air rushes from your lungs when he bottoms out. 

“S-so sensitive, Dyl,” you whine. 

“One more for me. You want it, don’t you?” You tighten around him as he pulls out and slowly presses back in. “Breathe. I’ll take you through it.” He reaches a comfortable pace, fast enough to override the overstimulated numbness but not painful in its force. Each deep thrust scrapes his pubic bone against your button, making you feel like you’re glitching in and out of existence.The pillow to your left disappears and, while still inside of you, Dylan lifts your hips to place it beneath you. You’re wide open for him now, hips tilted up as he changes his angle and begins to slap himself into you. “So good for me, taking me so well. You’re tired aren’t you, baby? Waitin’ on me all day…” Your noises only get louder as he pokes the fleshy roof of your cunt. “We’re almost done,” he coos. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you hiccup. You’re holding onto his forearms, still trembling. “Please, faster. I need it but it feels, I feel so–”

“Okay, honey. Just trust me, alright?” Dylan’s lips purse and a glob of saliva falls from his lips to where your bodies meet. He uses a finger to spread it around, then holds your hips by the curvature of your lower back. He grinds you against him with each full-length thrust, his spit messily coating your point of contact. He doesn’t even pull out anymore, just pushing himself as deeply as possible inside of you. Your ankles link together behind his back, pressing him so deep you can feel a tingly pressure next to your cervix. It almost hurts, the feeling shooting between your pussy and your brain. He spits again, harder this time, directly onto your clit. The pace of his hips combined with a quick pinch of his fingers sends you over the edge without warning. Your final orgasm rips a small cry from deep in your chest, whole body vibrating as you clench around the hot girth inside of you. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes, your body feeling tight and loose at the same time, alive and dead. In purgatory, maybe. “Fuck.” He grunts and presses himself as deeply as he can, spurting hot stickiness as your orgasm milks him. “‘It’s like you were made for me, swear to God.” Your body relaxes as he claims you, filling you to satisfaction. He pumps into you a few times, coating your inner and outer cunt with his essence. His body covers yours completely, kissing you as he continues to lazily thrust. Your hands roam his back, arms, and hair as he continues to purposelessly move inside of you. It’s hard to take a deep breath; you’re still trying to address the trembling in your limbs and stretch in your core. 

“Missed you.” It’s all you can muster. Your brain and body are composed of nothing but mush and Dylan.

“Missed you.” He’s smiling, eyes shining happily as they look at your weary face.

“Can we cuddle?” He nods and almost laughs, pressing a final kiss to your cheek. The air feels cold against you when he sits up and pulls out.

“Stay right there, gonna get a towel.” He squeezes your hand as he stands from the bed. You watch him saunter towards the bathroom and your eyes snap all the way open when he grabs the towel you’d been using for your hair.

“Dylan–!”

ermmm anyway so. ty for reading <3 as always, i'll love u forever if u like, rb, and/or lmk what u think :) (this is a sideblog so i cant respond to replies but i see them and ily)

That feeling when your favorite writter still aint post the next chapter...

Im jp yall, i just be talking shit lol

abt me: aggressively sentimental and sensitive and deeply horny also

⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, pure filth, rough unprotected sex, creampie, masturbation, voyeurism/exhibitionism, degradation, humiliation, ripping clothing, mean!matt, roughdom!matt, cuckhold!matt, bratty!reader

📝 author's note: 📝 this is the second part of this fic. you can read part one here. 💖 storyline will be hard to follow if you don't read them in order.

✍️ Summary: ✍️ After Matt loses a bet to his brother, Chris, he has to watch Chris have his way with you, his girlfriend. Once he sees how much you are enjoying Chris' company, he has to remind you who really owns you.

part two

"You've been dreaming about fucking Chris, huh? Is that so?" Matt gruffly asked me as he pulled out his meat.

Was this really happening? I'd always wanted to know what it would be like to be hate fucked by Matt. I nodded slowly while I looked back at him as I was on the bed on my hands and knees like he'd ordered. "You like making a fucking fool out of me, you dirty little slut? The deal was that you were gonna fuck Chris, not that you were gonna like it, cum all over his cock, and then tell him this pussy belongs to him," he growled through gritted teeth while he roughly shoved his rod into me. I gasped.

"I bet you'd fuck him again given the chance," Matt said, jackhammering into me harder than he ever had before. "Answer me!" He yelled. I nodded at him, which caused him to shove my face into the pillow and thrust harder and faster. "Mmm, you're such a little slut. I can't believe all that shit you were saying to my brother. I bet if you could have us both at the same time, you would, wouldn't you?" He breathlessly grunted while he continued to pound into me with the force of a thousand suns.

I loved the way he was talking to me, and I'd do and say anything to keep it going. "Yes, please," I moaned, and I meant it, but Matt could barely hear me since my voice was muffled by the pillow. "What was that, slut? Speak up," Matt grunted as he grabbed me by my hair and lifted my head, so that his lips were practically touching my earlobe. "Yes, please!" I repeated.

The only thing better than Matt sexually punishing me would be if Chris joined him and fucked me in the same aggressive manner.

"Cheap little whore," he rasped into my ear, and he threw my head back down as he chuckled at how pathetic I was. I felt myself tighten around him as my first orgasm tore through me. An involuntary yelp passed through my lips as I relaxed into my climax and fell limp beneath Matt's vengeful touch. He didn't slow down his strokes one bit.

"Chris could never fuck you like I could fuck you," Matt said through clenched teeth, and he was right. Regardless of how animalistic, hedonistic, and passionate Chris was when he fucked me and no matter how much I loved it, Matt was topping it. But without having watched Chris fuck me, Matt never would have been able to tap into this level of anger and passion, and neither of us could deny it.

"Please punish me for cumming all over your brother's cock, Matt. I'm such a naughty little whore," I cried out as my second orgasm brewed within me. "Tell me who owns this pussy, and you better not give me any fucking wrong answers," Matt threatened me, baring his teeth. "It's yours, Matt! My pussy is all yours!" I cried out as I clenched around him once more.

I couldn't hold myself up anymore. I gave into futility while Matt continued taking what was his. "That's right. I'll just have to fuck the idea of him out of your head, and then we better not have this misunderstanding again," Matt responded in a deep growl. The way his voice echoed throughout my being sent me over the edge one last time, and this had an effect on Matt this time, causing him to bust inside of me. He filled me with his liquid and grunted loudly as he delivered a few last powerful thrusts.

I was completely spent. After climaxing four times back to back, I was an absolute mess. I must have laid there, not moving, for about five minutes after Matt was done, just taking in the experience. He got dressed, left the room, and didn't say anything.

That was undeniably the best sex we'd ever had in the two years we'd been together, and I'm sure Matt had to leave to go process the experience as well, because I could tell he was actually mad. He was definitely the jealous type and possessive, but he also definitely got off on watching Chris fuck me, and we could all tell, and I'm sure it was fucking with his head.

Did he love watching me with Chris? Did he hate it? Does he love to hate it? It was all very complicated and intricate.

All I knew was, I needed to fuck Chris again or at least make it known to Matt that I wanted to fuck Chris again, because now that I'd had angry, hateful, and violently good sex with Matt, I could never go back.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Matt and I didn't talk about the incident for several days. He was even rather cold and short with me for the first twenty-four hours after it happened, but things seemed to slowly return to normal. "Meet me at my house in an hour. I wanna have a special date night with you," Matt texted me. My face lit up. I loved when Matt would plan dates for us, and I wanted to surprise him, too. I put on a red laced teddy underneath my oversized sweater. Seeing me in red lingerie would always drive Matt crazy. I did my makeup, grabbed my overnight bag (just in case), and headed out the door.

The autumn leaves were dwindling from the branches on the trees outside as fall slowly turned to winter, and the air was growing cooler. The sun was starting to set earlier and earlier, so I was surprised when I went out to my car and had to turn on my headlights even though it was only 6 p.m. I made my way to Matt's house, taking all the backroads to avoid red lights, but also because the scenery was prettier. I had an indie folk playlist playing softly in the background as I took in the view and passed through Halloween-decorated neighborhoods.

Finally arriving at the Sturniolo household, I realized Matt's car wasn't there yet, but I'd just use the key Matt has given me for our six month anniversary. He even had it decorated for me with rhinestones. I checked my phone after I shut off my car and saw that Matt had texted again. "Sorry, traffic. Running about 15 min late," it read.

I slowly turned the key in the lock and let myself in. The house was quiet and mostly dark, so I assumed I was the only person there. I started to stroll to the kitchen to grab myself a glass of water when I heard a faint whimper, and as I approached Chris' room and noticed a soft light pouring into the hall from his bedroom, I realized he was home, and the sounds were coming from him. I slowly approached the slightly open door and peeked in.

I took in the glorious sight of Chris sprawled out on his bed, laying halfway under his blanket with his hard member in one hand and in the other, my black panties from the other day, just like I'd imagined when he'd shoved them into his pocket. The lighting was dim, but I could see everything I needed to see.

He had a delighted expression on his face. He was smiling but biting his lip, and every few strokes, he'd release his bottom lip from his teeth, throw his head back, and open his mouth further to let out a moan. He intently stared down at his cock. His tumescent head slowly leaked with a bit of pre-cum, and his hand was gliding slowly but skillfully up and down his length.

I felt a warm, wet sensation forming between my legs while I peered in at him. It was so hot to watch Chris in such a vulnerable state, completely unaware that he had an audience.

"Take that cock, princess," he grumbled under his breath. "Yeah, you like having Matt watch us?" I was so flattered to have made my way into Christopher Sturniolo's sexual fantasies. I couldn't get enough of the sight I was taking in. He was so thorough and methodical, paying special attention to the tip, running the pads of his fingers over the glistening slit, stroking the backside of his cock almost as if tracing his veins. "That's it, pretty girl. Cum all over my cock," he whispered to himself in between his delicious moaning sounds.

I mindlessly started rubbing myself over my clothes, applying pressure against my mound with my palm. I bit my lip to keep my whines stifled. I watched as Chris started bucking his hips up towards his clenched fist, and I could tell by his movements, the expression of pleasure he wore on his face, the sounds spilling from his mouth, and the irregular pattern of his breath that he was starting to lose control.

I was so entranced by what I was witnessing that I didn't hear Matt come in through the front door or feel him come up behind me. Suddenly, Chris reached his breaking point. His sticky, white matter ejected from the tip of his cock like a geyser or a water fountain, and I admired the way it shot onto his bare stomach, a bit of it pooling into his belly button and leaving his hip bones covered in a sheen of his own fluid while he tightly gripped my panties in his other fist.

"Hey, Chris, shut your fucking door while you're jerking it, freak!" Matt's voice boomed behind me, and before Matt pulled the door close, Chris made eye contact with me for a fraction of a second and the way I was reaching between my own legs for some relief while I watched him with a shocked but aroused look on my face. His beautiful blue eyes were glazed over, and he shot me a smirk that silently asked me, so, did you like watching me cum to the thought of you? I could tell by his demeanor that he liked that I had been peeping in on him. The view was taken away from me by Matt closing the crack in the door angrily.

"So, you like watching my brother play with his cock, huh? Why didn't you go help him, you little slut?" Matt inquired in a condescending tone while his warm breath lingered on the back of my ear. I turned around wide-eyed with my jaw hanging open, not sure what to say. He pulled my sweater off of me, pulled down my pants, and left me standing in the hallway outside of Chris' bedroom in nothing but my red lingerie I'd put on for Matt. His frustrated expression morphed into a primal one. "You look so fuckable in this," Matt growled, "but I cant devour you in it."

He tore my lingerie off of me, literally ripping it with his bare hands, and I gasped. He unzipped his pants, pulled his cock out, and spun me around. After pushing me up against Chris' shut bedroom door, he plunged his hard package into me. I gasped and let out a yelp as he started fucking me with incredible vigor.

"Mmmm, so wet. Is that from watching Chris beat his meat?" Matt cooed. "Yes," I whimpered. "Yeah, I bet you wanna fuck him again," Matt chuckled, wrapping his tattooed arm around my neck to hold me still. "More than anything," I cried out while he slammed into my pussy over and over. I found myself simultaneously humiliated and extremely turned on by the fact that Chris could hear everything from the other side of the door and that he couldn't even really leave until we were finished. I wondered if Chris could be stroking himself towards another climax while he listened to Matt punishing me right outside his room.

"You little fucking brat. You can't stay away from him, can you?" Matt whimpered into my ear while he began to fuck me even more fervently. With every thrust, Matt brought me closer to the brink of orgasm. "Don't stop. I'm so close," I cried out, practically clawing at the door. "I'll only let you cum if you tell Chris who owns this pussy," Matt menacingly whispered. "You, Matt. My pussy is all yours!" I wailed as my body trembled, and I started to rhythmically spasm around Matt's dick. "That's it. Good girl," Matt cooed while I finished on him.

Seconds later, Matt was grunting, filling me with his essence and slowing down his thrusts. He let out a mean chuckle as he pulled himself out of me, and when he did this, a few drops of his cum leaked out of me and onto the floor. "You can come out now, Chris. Thanks for letting us use your door," Matt laughed, zipping up his pants and walking towards the kitchen.

Chris emerged from his room with a flushed look on his face while I balanced myself against the doorframe, trying to catch my breath. He looked me up and down while I stood completely naked in front of him, and I looked him up and down, noticing how red and swollen his lips were from him biting them and the outline of his hard on in his sweatpants.

"Listen, I'm not trying to get between you and Matt," Chris told me in a hushed voice. "Well, please try, because the more jealous he gets of the way we interact, the better our sex is," I whispered while I looked into his dreamy blue eyes. He bit his lip.

"Did you like watching me? Because I fucking loved listening to you," his voice grew deeper and quieter. I licked my lips at him and slowly nodded, "I loved every second of it." I bent down to pick my clothes and my torn lingerie up off the floor, feeling Chris' eyes watching me, and I strode off towards the kitchen to talk to Matt. Chris trailed behind me.

to be continued... :)

taglist: @ariithereyet @bsturnzmtt @sofieeeeex @ribread03 @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolo-girl @strnlxlqve @sturnzluv @gwennybenny @theeternaloptimistt @sleepysturniolo @hearts4thetr1pl3ts @witchofthehour @slutforsturnioloss

no because i'm a slytherin girl and i would KILL to have a lil secret romance w fred weasley ☹️

i just know he’d kiss the ground you walk on, but secretly, of course. quick glances from across the classroom, winking at you when he sees you looking back at him, leaving love notes inside your books. when he sees you in the corridor, he’d abruptly grab your wrist and drag you into an empty and dark broom closet before you could even notice him. his towering frame would scare the shit of you, causing him to quickly place his hand over your mouth to prevent you from screaming before you hear his familiar chuckle. “sorry darling, just missed my slytherin girl.” ☹️☹️☹️

all daydreams ੈ♡˳

marry me pls. thank you for your careful consideration.

😩❤️