#canthelpit0

[canthelpit0]

Dacryphilia

[prev. Unreleased from kinktober 2024]

Pairing: Chris x Reader

Wordcount: 3.6K+

Summary: 4 times Chris gets aroused at your crying, and 1 time he does something about it. (Sort of?)

Warnings: smut, fantasizing, crying, sweet!chris, refer has a naval piercing, porn with a lot of plot, voice kink, praise kink

A/N: bear in mind, this is old. It was originally for the kinktober series but since I gave up on that…. Anyway. This was written 12.05.2024, so it’s just been sitting in my drafts for a while.

00.

You and chris met at a party. It was just a month after Chris had moved to LA with his brothers.

You were both influencers and had collabed a few times before.

01.

The first time it happened Chris didn’t think anything of it.

Your boyfriend, who you had been dating for over a year had cheated on you.

Chris had met the guy once, and as soon as he had he hadn’t liked him.

Tho who was he to tell you he didn’t like your boyfriend, when you’ve been dating him for literally longer than you’ve known chris.

When you found out that your dear boyfriend was cheating on you, the first thing you did after breaking up with him and screaming, telling him to never talk to you again, was drive to the triplets house.

You wanted to see your best friends.

Even tho you’ve only known them for a few months they were one of the only genuine people in LA

You were crying in nicks arms, hysterically sobbing, and all Nick could do is be glad that you didn’t crash your car on the way here.

Matt, who’d been in the kitchen came to the living room faster than Chris.

And while Matt and Nick were doing a fine job calming you down, trying to get you to explain what happened without hyperventilating, as soon as Chris was there all the work was out of the window.

As soon as you spotted Chris at the top of the stairs and now in the living room, you ran over to him and hugged him.

He hugged you back letting you bury your face in the corner of his neck and sob into his shirt.

Chris felt a wave of dread and sadness wash over him. That was until he gently pulled your face out of his chest and looked at you.

Your eyes red and puffy. You had tear streaks running down your red-tinted cheeks. Your lips were red and puffy. You had that adorable yet sexy pout on your lips. Your eyebrows were low. your eyes narrowed in sadness.

You had no right to look that hot right now.

Chris wanted to comfort you, but he couldn’t help but scan your features again.

Your mascara being waterproof only fell in black tiny little clumps. A bit of it smeared at the corner of one of your eyes lower lashes.

Chris hadn’t really ever seen a woman cry. He’s never dated anyone, so he’s just never made a woman cry. At least not that he knew of.

He tilts his head at you as if examining your face even more. You think you’re imagining it when you see his pupils dilate. You blink up at him.

The way he’s staring at you seems so outlandish that it makes you curious. Curious enough to make you momentarily forget about your sorrow.

Chris blinks seeing that your tears stopped. Seeing that you weren’t sobbing anymore. After a slight pause he snaps out of it.

Having sexual thoughts was one thing.

But having sexual thoughts about his best friend who was crying was a whole Nother thing.

In the end you started crying again while explaining what had happened.

02.

Chris was borderline scared of himself for thinking like that.

Well not really scared, but he was weirded out by himself.

You weren’t one to cry easily.

Yet today had been a horrible day.

You originally wanted to edit your newest video, just to have the revolution that the audio hadn’t picked up and that the entire 30 minutes of footage was useless.

You let go of it easily, simply sighing and letting it go.

You then decided to make yourself an iced coffee like you used to in 2020 for old times sake. The infamous whipped coffee.

When you started to use the frother on your mixture of instead coffee, sugar and hot water, you somehow managed to let the glass down out of your hands.

It landed on the floor with a loud crash and you jumped at the impact.

It wasn’t fun having to clean that up and the bottom of your pink satin pajama pants were slightly stained now.

But you sucked it up and reluctantly cleaned up.

You went to change and get ready for the day, you wore a cute button down you’d just gotten.

You walk out of your bedroom to the living room and have a mini heart attack thinking you lost your phone. Until you realized that it’s probably still in your bedroom, since you thought you took it with you.

Being clumsy as you are tho, while walking back into your bedroom you walk straight into the door handle. The door handle catches on your button down and rips off a button.

You groan. You end up searching for that damn button for too fucking long. You put the button on your desk already taking the top off to sow the button back later.

Then you remembered you were searching for your phone. So you searched every corner of your bedroom while still not wearing a top.

You decide it’s a problem for later and find yourself a new top that fits with your flared jeans.

These jeans were a little tight on you, but that meant that it just showed off your curves great. That was until you tripped on a stray sock.

You fell in a weird way. Your hands instinctively flying out to catch your body, wich caused you to twist your wrist.

With the pain in your wrist you hadn’t even heard the loud rip of your jeans.

You groan turning around to sit up. You instinctively cross your legs and hold your arm with your other arm. You sigh heavily letting your head fall forward.

When you open your eyes tho you notice a patch of skin peaking through your jeans. You pause pulling your arms out the way.

Your jeans had ripped along the seam on your inner thigh. You scoff, beyond done with today.

All you want to do at this point is go to bed and sleep, but after the iced coffee thing you’d texted Nick that you’d be coming over and you didn’t want to stand him up.

So you get up and take the jeans off once again changing your entire outfit. Then you have another mini heart attack and search for your phone.

After a while you give up and decide to go back to the living room, Your kitchen being open to the living room.

You suddenly hear the telltale sound of an iPhone notification. You look around only to see your phone blowing up on the counter of your kitchen.

After that everything goes smoothly. Well except for you consistently bumping into things.

You don’t know what’s up with you today, normally you’re not clumsy or prone to accidents at all.

Now you’re at the sturniolos house sitting in the couch. Nick had gone upstairs to change for some reason, and Matt and Chris had been in their rooms all day.

You feel thirsty and get up. You just have to go to the kitchen to get a drink, it’s not that hard-

You stub your toe. On the fucking couch table. You’d been overthinking so much, that you didn’t pay attention.

But instead of scoffing and playing it off like you have been all day you actually let out a cry at that.

It was like that was the last straw and the floodgates snap.

Chris who’d been on his way upstairs to get a Pepsi sees this unfold. He sees the way you double over in pain and start crying.

His immediate instinct is to rush up to you and ingulf you in a hug.

You weren’t really crying because you stubbed your fucking toe, you were crying because you suddenly felt every single bruise on your body that you had gained today from just bumping into shit.

You suddenly felt overwhelmed with the feelings you’d been pushing back all day.

“Sh, sh You’re okay.” Chris whispers sweetly. He lowers you both to the ground.

You sit on your legs your hand in his. It still hurt from when you fell on it earlier, you just felt it even more right now.

You let out a pathetic sob. You can’t help but look up at the ceiling trying to compose yourself.

Chris watches you with awe. He couldn’t help it. And he really felt confused of why he thought you were hot like this. A crying and sobbing mess on the floor.

Sure you were attractive, but why did he find this sight particularly arousing?

All he wanted to do was to cradle your face into the crook of his neck and whisper sweet nothings to you. And that’s just what he did.

He wanted to care for you, to soothe you and to make you calm down. He wanted to see your big glossy eyes right after you finally stopped crying.

03.

It was the week before your period. Your lower back was aching, it felt like a bunch of needles were being stabbed through you over and over.

You were feeling all emotional like you usually do the few days before your period.

The triplets were at your house once again.

They’d just invited themselves in with nicks spare key before you had woken up. You woke up just to see the three lounging in your living room and eating your snacks.

You didn’t even bat an eye at it.

You simply walk to your kitchen getting stuff for a toast ready.

Once you’re finished with preparing and making your food, you sigh. You lean against the counter plate in hand and take a bite of your warm toast feeling the cheese melt on your tongue.

Suddenly you hear Chris gasp. You look over, wich wasn’t hard since your kitchen is open to the living room.

You watch the way Chris jumps up from his seat on the couch and then proceeds to fumble around with something.

You just raise an eyebrow but keep eating your toast while it’s still warm.

You watch Chris walk around the kitchen island to you.

Chris holds out a small white paper bag. You put your plate on the counter and clap your hands together to get any and all crumbs off of them.

You swallow the food in your mouth “For me?” He nods simply.

You tenderly take the paper bag from his hands. It somehow looks fancy. You raise an eyebrow after peering into the paper bag.

You take out a small box. You slowly place the paper bag on the counter not bothering to take your eyes off of the small white box in your hands.

“Open it” he urges. Chris looks like he is about to jump out of his shoes. He’s practically radiating energy. He looks so excited.

Your eyes momentarily lock on Chris’. This was probably some jewelry, but what kind. Had he gotten you a ring, you’ve been needing some new ones in your collections. Or ear rings or-

Before you can think about it too much you’re already opening the box.

You’re greeted with the sight of jewelry for your belly button piercing. It’s cute silver jewelry with a Viviane Westwood chain dangling off of it.

Your eyes start to Involuntarily water.

You love Viviane Westwood. You had some cute earring, and when you had talked about wanting to buy the matching necklace Chris had given you his.

“When I saw this I thought of you” he explains rubbing the back of his neck slightly. He was mildly embarrassed. But it was a cute gesture.

You gently put the box on the counter next to the other stuff. You were aware that Viviane Westwood probably didn’t sell belly button rings, wich only means he’d probally gotten it off of Etsy or something.

Even tho you knew it was probably just stainless steel and not actual silver, it was the gesture, the idea that counts.

You look up at him with your teary eyes.

You wanted to damn your sappiness to hell right now, but that was probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you, or at the very least that was the only thing you could think of.

You knew you probably looked like a mess. Your hair being messy, no make up on, your bottom lip quivering as you hold in tears. You were always an emotional train wreck a few days before your period starts.

“Thank you so much” you croak out.

Your vision is too blurred to notice but Chris is giving you that look again. He looks fond.

With a swift move, you wrap your arms around Chris’ neck and hug him. Out of instinct his hands go to your waist.

He sighs. “That’s so sweet” you let out under your breaths a chocked out sob following after.

You feel Chris’ arms wrap around your waist to pull you even closer.

He’d accepted it, he liked seeing you cry. Obviously he didn’t like seeing you sad, but he thought you were cute. You always were, even sobbing with mascara running down your face.

But seeing you cry out of happiness because of such a small gesture, a small gift Chris got you… that was a whole other high for him.

04.

Chris decided on a random Tuesday morning that he had nothing good to do. He felt incredibly bored.

So he decided to google random things that come to his mind.

Whether it be learning more about fish types going down the rabbit hole of the internet and what not.

He always googles random things he thought about to find out more about it so he could maybe talk about it in a car video or something.

Suddenly he thought about you and the few times he’s seen you crying.

He thought about it more, and it became apparent that he thought that crying was hot.

He googled his thoughts out in multiple diffrent ways. And at the end, the watered down version was “why do I find crying hot?”

He continued to lay in his bed semi intreated in what google had to say.

the first thing that popped up was a Wikipedia page with some title he couldn’t even pronounce.

So he continues scrolling trying to find the meaning of said word without having to klick on the link because he was too lazy to.

Dacryphilia (also known as dacrylagnia) is a form of paraphilia in which one is aroused by tears or sobbing

He reads out in his head. “Huh?” Was literally all that went through his mind after reading that.

And the follow up question was “what the fuck is a paraphilia?”

So Chris went down a rabbit hole.

Chris figures out that Apparently philia is a Greek word that means “love”. Better yet, a paraphilia is apparently a non-normative sexual interest. - a fetish. Not really but almost.

The word ‘pedo-philia’ now makes a whole lot more sense. It’s a taboo fantasy. And it’s taboo for a reason ew.

Chris spirals from topic to topic almost forgetting why he even started this search.

Until he goes back in his history to read over the meaning of this thing again.

“I have a crying kink?” He says under his breath his eyes narrowed at the screen while he questions his life and everything that got him to this point.

Chris wrecks his brain to think. It’s like his brain is empty trying to process the information.

Suddenly his mind comes up with a scenario he’s all too familiar with. It’s always the same, just slight differences.

You, His best friend under him crying loudly while choking out moans while he eats you out.

Him fucking you from behind, his eyes glued on the tears rolling down your face through the mirror.

Chris, watching you come on his cock, your orgasm hitting you so hard that you break out in tears, your chest heaving while you try to catch your breath.

He sighs heavily closing his eyes. These were all thoughts he’s had before. He licks his lips his eyes locked on the ceiling. He’s hard, painfully so.

In hindsight, he doesn’t know how he thought these thoughts were average. Well first off he’s fantasizing about his best friend, but also because they seem kind of extreme.

In hindsight it makes sense

+1

Chris continues to thrust into you.

He doesn’t really know how this happened really.. it just kind of did.

He’s kept you in missionary all night thrusting into you.

Some of his messy hair strays were sticking to his forehead from the thin layer of sweat coating his skin.

His eyes stay glued on you. He knows it’s wishful thinking, but he wishes sho much that you’ll start crying for whatever reason .

Of corse he doesn’t want to hurt you or anything, but he would love for his fantasies to become reality.

“Fuck please keep talking” you pant your eyes shutting as you try to take in this moment.

You never in a million years would’ve thought that your best friend would rail you this good.

He keeps hitting every right spot in you to make you weak in the knees.

“Mhm?” He mumbles. You groan in response. he was teasing you. You wanted to hear him talk, and praise you, but instead he was waiting for you to beg for it.

“Come on” you whine. Your head is thrown back at the overwhelming amount of pleasure.

“Eyes on me ma.” He demands. So without any second thought, your eyes snap open and connect with his.

He’s looking down at you with so much love in his eyes, it’s almost painful. Despite literally fucking you dumb right now, he’s looking at you with such intense need and desire it almost makes you melt.

Your mouth drops open when he quickens his pace even more.

Your legs stay wrapped around his torso trying to keep him close.

“So pretty” he breaths out. One of his hands mindlessly grabs one of your boobs starting to toy with it.

He keeps thrusting into you, and the intensity, both physical and emotional, makes your eyes water.

You really were not an overly emotional person, but this good ass sex was making you weak and you silently curse yourself for it.

You let out a slight sob. You immediately fell embarrassed, you slam one of your hands on your mouth to shut yourself up the other one still tangled in your bedsheets.

His eyes widen seeing your eyes become glassy. He felt a corse of adrenaline shoot through him.

“You okay?” His thrusts don’t waver, he doesn’t seem phased by your tears, if anything, only more turned on.

You nod eagerly. You try to make it abundantly clear that you don’t want him to stop since you’re getting close.

He lets out a breath his eyes becoming somehow even darker. “Let me hear you” he says under his breath. His tone is so low but borderline seductive.

He grabs your wrist pulling your hand from your mouth. You have tears running down your face ruining your once perfect make up.

You close your eyes in embarrassment while you can’t help the few sobs between moans. Chris’ desire only seems to be fueled more as he keeps up pace.

You feel the rubber band in your stomach twist up so uncomfortably, ready to snap at any moment.

“Eyes on me or I’ll stop.” Chris threatens gruffly. And as soon as your glossy eyes meet his again,his pace only seems to get messier and more uncontrolled.

You can’t even warn him through your loud sobs, whines and moans, and before you know it you’re creaming a round his cock.

The impact of your orgasm feels like a brick to your head. you feel lightheaded, your eyes only watering more while you can’t seem to keep quiet for the life of you.

Chris is close behind you, and seeing the expression you make, trying to keep your eyes open, but not being able to focus, along with the tear stains on your cheeks and the mixture of sobs and moans, sends him over the edge.

He doesn’t even bother pulling out instead giving you a few more deep and significantly slower thrusts to help you both through your highs.

You blink the tears in your eyes away trying to compose yourself. You honestly don’t know why you have such a man emotional reactions with Chris.

“So pretty” Chris coos. He leans down cupping your face and showers you in kisses. He doesn’t even bother pulling out while he does so.

“You’re not disgusted?” You breathe out. You’ve only cried once during sex before and it was your first time. The guy had been disgusted at it, but ‘let it slide’ since it was your first time.

“No.” Chris chuckles leaving a long kiss on your forehead. “Why would I be?”

His goofy grin makes you smile.

You watch Chris lick his lips. “I’m sorry I’d didn’t ask this before, but.. uh, can you be my girlfriend?” He starts to get more shy again his eyes soften as he looks down at you.

He looks at you with practically heart shaped eyes.

You feel happy when he asks you tho, you don’t want to be his fuck buddy, you want to be his.

“Yes” you breathe out looking up at him.

Chris connects your lips in a sweet and passionate kiss, one that makes your heart melt.

he pulls away with a boyish smile. He slowly pulls out his eye never leaving your face. “I’ll be right back” he mumbles pecking your cheek.

He gets up quickly putting on his boxers, he practically sprints into your bathroom.

You smile at the eagerness. Your new boyfriend was just the sweetest.

Masterlist

‼️ please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

A/N: proofread, but English is not my first language so idk. Tell me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist. I do not write for the triplets anymore, this is a draft.

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo , @chr1sgirl4life , @h3arts4harry , @whosthislyssbitch , @jamiesturniolo , @sturniololover-09 , @zayyluvz , @sturnzsblog , @jetaimevous , @imwetforyourmom , @yoongslvr69 , @ilovethesturnstriplets , @obsessionsarenotfortheweak , @mininishiriki , @bigbootyjudyyyy , @harry-winkes , @likefirenrain , @emely9274

[canthelpit0]

Felt that

this is so true

[canthelpit0]

- Eilish -

-taglist -everything you need to know -Masterlist

fluff 🌸 angst 🥀 nsfw (smut) 🌼 suggestive *

BILLIE EILISH

🌸* the past

🌼 acrylics

🌼bottom

🌸 Girls

UPCOMING…

…

[muwapsturniolo]

✯Snaps between simp!chris and hard to get black!reader ✯

WARNINGS: mentions of sex, one snap from nick.

cleaning out my drafts and saw this, enjoy🍑

TAGLIST 🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @mrssturnioloo @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity @luverboychris @thenickgirl @riasturns @imwetforyourmom @junnniiieee07 @realuvrrr @milasturniolo @fwskullz @hearts4tatemcrae @mattandchrismakemewett @chrissystur @canthelpit0 @strnilo @demistyles @junovrsmp4 @heartsforchrisandmatt @maryx2xx @vecnasnose0 @freshsturns @xxsturnxx @pettydollie @crimsoncorpse @sturnssmuts @sturniolovoid @m0r94n @freshsturns @adoreindie @sturnstvr

[sturnsluttz]

My fav Sturniolo tumblr writers 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Because I’m feeling nice and festive here are some of my most favourite writers I’ve found since joining tumblr that y’all should deff check out ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ @evie-sturns

♡ @mattscoquette

♡ @bernardsbendystraws

♡ @issysh3ll

♡ @ariestrxsh

♡ @submattenthusiast

♡ @sweetshuga

♡ @mattslolita

♡ @sturniolosiphone

♡ @hjvi

♡ @canthelpit0

All of you writers are so talented but these special people have just stuck out to me the most so I hope if ur tagged in this it brightens ur day like all your posts do for me 💋

[canthelpit0]

I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS

DUDE THE PLOT TWIST😭

if u think i’m pretty || chris sturniolo

SMUT. 18+. Minors DNI. tw: hate fucking. lots of it. bickering while fucking? idk you get the gist. finally got around to writing about chris. can you believe i scrapped like 5 fics? 🥴 yeah me either! also, sequel with matt if yall want it ;)

“Christopher fucking Sturniolo!”

Your words were laced with venom, the staircase rumbling beneath you as you stomped upstairs. Faintly you could hear Matt call out for you, your mind too filled with rage to hear him properly.

Pornographic moans flooded your eardrums as you reached Chris’s room, your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head. Your closed fist rattled his door, the dramatic moans coming to a screeching halt.

“Open the fucking door dickwad!” You screamed. Impatiently you tapped your foot, deciding he was taking too long. You grabbed the door handle, (surprised to find it unlocked), and swung the door open.

It was almost comical watching Chris and a girl you didn’t know scramble to get themselves dressed.

“What the fuck are you doing in here? Get the fuck out! Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?” Chris spat, shoving his gray sweatpants on. For a brief moment you felt bad for the girl, her waterline filling with tears. She was just one of many you had seen this week. You grabbed a shirt you presumed to be hers, handing it to her. You took a deep breath, containing your anger as you looked at her.

“Please get dressed and for the love of God, find someone better to fuck,” You sighed. The blonde was gone in a flash, practically sprinting out of Chris’s room. You crossed your arms, shooting lasers out of your eyes as you glared at the brunette across from you. Oh, only if looks could kill.

“I’m not believing my phone magically teleported into the dishwasher of all places,” You snarled. Your phone had been missing for six hours straight, your iphones location still saying it was at the triplets house. You had dragged Matt and Nick all around their house, searching from the ceiling to the floor. When you had finally accepted defeat, you had opened the dishwasher to grab a bowl to make a snack.

And to your displeasure, your phone was sopping wet, sitting in plain sight on the rack.

“You have zero proof I did that, literally zero,” Chris argued. Your eyes briefly flickered to his exposed chest, the amount of skin throwing you off. You shook your head, showing Chris your ruined phone. “Really? Because I can’t recall the last time you did dishes but you magically did them last night,” You snapped. Chris shrugged nonchalantly, a cocky smirk creeping across his lips.

“What can I say? I figured i’d help out the household,”

That’s it.

You chucked your phone at him, the brunette dodging the attack by seconds. It was ruined away, even the rice method was unable to save your phone. It smacked against the wall, the sound making Chris jump. “Maybe your phone wouldn’t be ruined if you weren’t having very LOUD phone sex with your boyfriend!” Chris yelled. You threw your hands up in the air, completely dumbfounded. “What are you talking about? Why would I ever-” You began arguing, before it clicked.

You weren’t having phone sex with anyone, that was for sure. But you stayed over at the Sturniolo household frequently, to the point where you were there more often than you were home. As much as Chris drove you insane, you couldn’t deny how attractive he was. The concept of the attraction being forbidden, soured by years and years of bickering, did something inside of you.

You could feel heat rushing to your cheeks, even though you didn’t want it to. Chris snickered at your loss of words, shooting you a genuine smile. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” He teased. In a swift motion you dashed across the room, your palm connecting with his cheek. Your tension with Chris had never gone beyond yelling. He had never crawled under your skin so much before, embarrassment seeping over you as you thought about the whole house hearing what he said.

A long pause silenced the room, the sound of the slap echoing through out your ears. Chris took a moment to process what you had just done, before his sharp gaze meant yours. His hand flew to your throat, gripping the sides as he threw you against the nearest wall. The air was knocked out of your lungs, your body in fight or flight mode. He easily towered over you, his sharp blue eyes filled with rage.

“You’re such a fucking whore,” Chris grumbled. He squeezed the sides of your neck harder, a whimper escaping your lips. His grip loosened, his attention fully dedicated to the sound you had made. The brunette tilted his head to the side curiously, as if he hadn’t believed what he just heard. “Did you just whimper?” He questioned. You shook your head no, Chris’s knee spreading your legs apart. Testing the waters, he brought his face closer to yours.

“You know, your little stunt prevented me from finishing earlier. Perhaps you’d like to help me out,” Chris purred, the glint of lust in your eyes telling him everything he needed to know. You rolled your eyes, your heart beginning to race as his body pressed against yours. “If you’re going to kiss me get on with it before I change my mind,” You said plainly. Chris’s grip on your throat tightened, your airway becoming restricted.

“You’ve always been a mouthy one,” He muttered, roughly bringing his lips to yours.

Chris hated how good you tasted, how good you smelled. He hated how your skin always looked so soft, your lips so plump. He despised how confident you were, always charging into everything in your life head first. What Chris actually liked, was that you challenged him. He knew that his infatuation with you wasn’t actually feelings, just raw and untamed lust. But fuck, with your lips against his, it made him want to change his mind.

The two of you clawed off each other’s clothes, discarding the clothing to the floor. Chris’s tongue swiped across your lower lip, before sliding inside. His kisses were rough and sloppy, your body addicted to the electricity he made run down your spine. You pushed him harshly against the bed, his back hitting the soft mattress underneath him.

You straddled him quickly, attempting to take control of the situation. Ever so slowly you grinded your wet cunt against his exposed shaft, a groan escaping his lips. Chris cockily put his hands behind his head, admiring you. “Go ahead, get yourself off just by grinding on me. You can do it pretty girl,” Chris instructed. You felt heat dash across your cheeks at the sound of his praise, your hips moving seemingly on their own.

Curses left your lips as you threw your head back. “Making me get myself off since you can’t do it? Figures,” You managed to say, your movements becoming more desperate. Chris leaned forward on his elbows, watching your cunt slide up and down his shift. “I’d watch your words ma, i’ll overstimulate you until you’re nothing but a cock craving whore,” Chris warned. His warning felt real, the threat in it seeking genuinely true. Even if you didn’t want to believe it.

Chris bit his bottom lip as you shamelessly grinded against him, every little movement providing pleasure to your clit. “You really think i’d fuck as many girls as I do if I couldn’t make them cum? I thought you were supposed to be smart,” Chris said coldly, mockingly tilting his head to the side. Your gaze landed back on the man beneath you, ignoring his cock in between your folds. “Yeah? I thought I was supposed to be overstimulated by now. What happened to that?” You challenged.

He was quick to change positions, your back landing against the mattress before you could think. He roughly spread your thighs apart, shoving two fingers into your cunt. A gasp of surprise was ripped from your throat, his spare hand resuming its place as your personal collar. Chris’s name spilled off of your lips as his fingers curled inside of you, his name becoming a sinful mantra. “What happened? Not so cocky now are we?” Chris taunted, watching you fall apart on his fingers.

The sight of you was enough to make his cock throb, his body craving attention. Chris remained focused, determined to corrupt you. “Open your fucking mouth slut,” Chris ordered. You so without a second thought, flattening your tongue across your bottom lip. He gripped your face harshly, leaning over and spitting into your mouth. “Swallow it,” He growled, watching you intently. You did as you were told, swallowing his saliva. You felt humiliated as it slid down your throat, the feeling euphoric.

“Thats a good girl, now why don’t you cum on my fingers for me? Hmm?” Chris asked. His words of praise made the rope inside of you snap, your orgasm washing over you without warning. Your vision went white, your thighs trembling as Chris removed his fingers from your aching cunt. You watched as he sucked them clean, maintaining eye contact with you as he did so.

Still coming down from your high, you put every last bit of energy into rolling your eyes. “Are you going to fuck me or just stare?” You asked. Chris’s cocky smile fell, replaced with a frown. “Nothings ever good enough for you, is it?” He replied, crawling on top of you. He brushed the tip of his cock up and down your folds teasingly, enjoying hearing you audibly whine for him. “Why’d you destroy my phone?” You asked, your coherent thoughts interrupted by him shoving himself inside of you.

You both moaned in unison, the unholy sounds vibrating off of the walls. “Why’d you decide to have phone sex in my house?” Chris gritted out, sliding himself further into you. He had more girth than you expected, your walls struggling to accommodate his size. “I asked you first dipshit,” You spat, fighting back a groan as he slid in further. Chris could feel your walls spasming around his cock, the sensation enough to make him cum right then and there. But he knew you’d never let him live it down.

“Yeah? Well I asked you second,” Chris replied, bottoming out inside of you. The tip of his shaft brushed against your g spot, the slightest movement of his hips making you whimper. “If you must know I wasn’t having phone sex, dumbass,” You said honestly. Chris pulled his hips back at a teasing rate, entertaining the argument. “Yeah? So what were you doing?” He questioned, doubting what you were saying. His hips bucked back into yours, hitting your g spot purposefully slow. He was drawing his thrust out, enjoying the sight of you squirming beneath him.

“I-I was thinking of you, alright? Now are you going to fuck me or what?” You rambled, embarrassed by your confession. Chris paused for a moment, soaking in your words. He leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear. “Is that so? Well, I destroyed your phone because I got jealous. You belong under me, just like this, taking my cock,” Chris purred, ignoring the embarrassment of his own confession. He pulled back slightly, allowing the two of you to make eye contact.

Out of breath and desperate, both of you panted as you stared into each other’s eyes. “Well, in that case, you better get on with it,” You said weakly. The same cocky smile that you hated plastered across his lips, his hips bucking into yours quickly. Your nails dug into his back as his hips continued to slam into yours, his cock buried inside of your cunt. Chris couldn’t hold back his own groans, your walls milking his cock dry.

With glazed eyes he met your gaze, relishing in the sound of your groans, chanting his name. “Open your mouth for me,” He ordered, his cock abusing your cervix. Chris enjoyed that you didn’t hesitate, obeying him without a second thought. He put two fingers into your mouth, shoving them as far back as he could. “Now fucking suck them slut,” He growled. With each degrading word you squeezed him harder, your body snitching on your hidden desire.

“You look so pretty like this, when you aren’t yapping that mouth of yours,” He huffed. A painful whine came from his lips, your nails purposefully digging deeper into his back. You pathetically bobbed your head up and down on his fingers, concealing your smirk as you heard him in audible pain. Chris slithered his spare hand down to your cunt, drawing fast and sloppy circles around your clit.

“Go on, cum for me. Cum on my cock like the good girl you are for me,” Chris panted. The extra sensation was enough to make you throw your head back, Chris’s fingers still lodged in your mouth. Your warning of your orgasm was muffled, your thighs shaking violently under him. The sight was going to be burned into Chris’s memory forever, the feeling of your cunt spasming around him giving him an undeniable ego boost. He fucked you through your orgasm, becoming preoccupied with chasing his own.

His fingers roughly grabbed your waist, fucking you rougher. “Shit, i’m gonna cum,” He admitted. Chris watched, mesmerized as his cock slid in and out of your cunt. “Where do you want it?” He asked, his hips beginning to stutter. You grabbed him by his throat, dragging him towards you. You put your mouth next to his ear, smirking as you told him, “Inside of me.”

You filthy fuck. For the first time your name fell from Chris’s lips as he came, his warm seed flooding your cunt. In unison you both tried to catch your breath, Chris carefully slipping out of you. The room was silent, besides desperate breathing, a knock came from Chris’s door.

“Yeah?”

“Your uh, doordash is here dude,” Matt said awkwardly. You could hear him place a bag in front of his bedroom door. “Thanks,” Chris replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Hey Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time maybe fuck a little quieter, Nicks pretty pissed.”

You exchanged glances with Chris, watching as he shoved on a shirt.

“You heard him, be quiet next time,”

“Next time? There won’t be a next time. Mr.I lasted thirty seconds.”

The sound of you two bickering made Matt roll his eyes, causing him to walk away. He wondered if you both would ever get married, or if you both would hate fuck forever. He shrugged at the idea, heading back downstairs. All Matt knew for sure, was that your moans made him cum the hardest he ever had. And that, was enough for him.

[mrsriddles-blog]

Reads of the Week: May 5-May 11

*indicates smut

green font represents multiple characters (poly, rh, etc.)

Cinnamon Girl by @thestarsarebrightertonight

Crying in the Courtyard by @aligned-starz

The Book Thief by @muchlovekatia

Desperately Needed* by @musingsofahufflepuff

Mattheo with a bookworm reader by @blondwhowrites

Cruise Control by @pepsiboyy

boyfriend by @evie-sturns

Fake?* by @canthelpit0

Surprise Visit by @grimholic

Too innocent* by @mattsonly

Friendly Competition* by @summerssover

Rainy Days by @st7rnioioss

the re-do* by @likeumeanit9497

dent* by @evie-sturns

help you by @worldlxvlys

Fake Smile by @vanteguccir

Bellyache by @pepsiboyy

Polaroid* by @sturnlovr

Friendly Competition* by @summerssover

embarrassment* by @evie-sturns

Wisdom Teeth by @sturnsdoll

[slut4b1ls]

—TAGLISTˊˎ-

@hkkuugu @certifiedwomenlover @hopingforgoodblogs @canthelpit0 @billiesbabygirll @mybluebossanova @slutforabbyanderson

If you would like to be added to the taglist please comment here and I will be tagging you in all my future works🖤

If you would like to be deleted from the taglist just let me know anytime

xx

[canthelpit0]

jaw dropped.

IF YOU'RE GONNA LIE, DO IT IN MY BED

SYNOPSIS: billie kept lying to your face, but when she looked at you like that, you didn't really have it in you to care. you did, however, have it in you to push her further by being a brat. RELATIONSHIP: dom!billie eilish x fem!bratty!reader WARNINGS: SMUT, mean billie (oops), reader is a tiny bit pathetic, bratty reader, situationship/fwb, angry sex (kind of?), crying, established safe word (not used), strap-on, oral on a strap-on, deepthroating, gagging, oral, overstimulation, squirting, degradation, praise, petnames (pretty girl, baby, ma, etc.) name calling (slut, whore, brat, etc.), choking, hair pulling, humiliation, dumbification, billie is so condescending in this, toxic dynamic. NOTE: sorry babes i've been totally off the grid, writing this when i should be studying calculus lmao!! this is long as hell i'm so sorry i got carried away 😭 title from the song ‘guess we lied…’ by fletcher. this is oxytocin billie at her finest btw!! also situationship/fwb billie has me in a chokehold !! also i'm on my period rn lmaooo WORD COUNT: 4.8k words

you’d been in a friends with benefits situation with billie for roughly the past four months, but you’d known each other for far longer. billie was too busy for a proper relationship, so the past four months had been all hotel rendezvous and stolen kisses, but no real commitment.

billie would always fuck you better than anyone else could, and you'd be left alone in a cold and empty bed the next morning. she knew how to treat a girl, that was for sure, she was just emotionally unavailable. she needed someone who didn’t need her to actually be present in their life, just there for a good time when she felt like it. 

of course, that was where you came in—you and the countless other girls she had wrapped around her finger. there had been many girls throughout the years, but rumour had it, most of them were gone after less than a month. that knowledge gave you an addictive feeling of importance, something that kept you coming back for more. you might mean nothing to her, but you meant more than the others did. 

you’d planned to meet up today, but billie was late—of course she was. 

she’d been at a party—of course she had. 

chances were, she’d been out fucking one of the many other girls she had totally entrapped in her siren-like charm—she told you that you were her favourite, but you weren’t sure you believed her. she probably told every single girl she fucked that, she just happened to keep you around for longer than most. 

so she stumbled into the hotel room she’d told you to meet her in, forty five minutes late, a resting frown on her face as she kicked off her shoes upon entering the room. you look up from where you sat on the bed scrolling your phone, raising an eyebrow. 

“late again, where were you?” your voice didn’t sound accusatory, simply curious, but you were accusing her of something, and she knew it. 

she shrugged casually, her face still set in that slight scowl. “a party, it’s not important.” 

she was clearly in a bad mood, but you didn’t really have it in you to care. her bad mood was no excuse to leave you hanging for almost an hour. you laughed dryly. “next time, just cancel. i don’t care if you don’t want to see me, that’s fine. just don’t leave me waiting here for you to show up.” 

billie rolls her eyes slightly, through her eyes, it genuinely didn’t matter, and it was irrational for you to be this annoyed. the two of you weren’t dating, she did this with so many other girls, you weren’t special. “god, you’re so dramatic. it was just a party, it’s not a big deal.”

you let out a soft scoff, “i don’t care that it was a party. just let me know next time so that i don’t sit alone in an empty hotel room for almost an hour looking like an absolute loser.” 

“i meant to get here on time.” 

“don’t lie to me, i know that if you mean to do something, you do it.” which was true. if billie actually wanted to do something, she found a way to do it. 

billie raises an eyebrow, “you’re being a brat.”

you bite back another scoff, but can’t stop yourself from snapping back at her. “and you’re being a bitch.”

something seemed to change in billie’s eyes then, one of her eyebrows raising as she took a few steps towards you. you almost instinctively took a step back, a reminder of the control she had over you even when you were trying to be mad at her.

her eyes were a fraction darker than they had been before, her sharp blue eyes fixated on you as she kept waking forward, backing you towards the hotel bed without even touching you—that was the power she held over you. 

“i’m being a bitch? hm, interesting. you don’t look like you think i’m a bitch, you look like you want me to fuck you.” her voice was smooth and level, but there was a sort of harsh bite to it, a warning, foreshadowing for what was to come.

you couldn’t even deny it, not really. you wanted to deny it, but she was right. you did want her to fuck you, despite how little she clearly cared about your feelings right now. 

she took a step closer again, and you felt the back of your knees hit the mattress—you hadn’t even been aware of stepping that far back. she watched you closely, a calculating look in her eyes.

“so? you gonna say it, or what? i know you waited around for a reason.”

again, she was right. why else you have waited around for almost forty five minutes? no one fucked you like she did, and you could tell she knew it, from the smug smirk that always painted her lips when she was fucking into you with her strap. god, she could be so cocky sometimes, the knowledge that she was so incredibly hot was a little too powerful for her. 

when you thought about it, it was kind of pathetic that you’d actually waited around for forty five minutes. like, who does that? why had you sat alone in the hotel room, waiting for her in the silence? why hadn’t you walked out after twenty minutes and gone to the party where your friends were probably drunk off their faces—the party that you had skipped because you already had plans. plans with billie. 

you’d waited around for forty five minutes, and you knew full well that you weren’t going to get her to have a mature conversation. so, you concluded, you might as well make the wait worth it, and let her fuck you. and if you were going to get fucked, it might as well be good. 

so, when you spoke, you kept the slightly snarky tone. “obviously, why else would i have waited around for so long?”

she saw the bratty look in your eyes, and her eyes darkened further. she clearly wasn’t in a great mood, and needed a way to blow off steam—your brattiness was giving her exactly that, an outlet. she huffed, grabbing your jaw tighter as she stared at you. she pushed you so you fell onto your back on the bed, landing with a slight impact on the soft mattress. she crawled on top of you so she was straddling your hips, one of her hands coming to wrap around your neck, pressing down to give you just the right amount of pressure. it was a warning, but you weren’t at all worried. 

“watch your fuckin’ tone, ma. and don’t look at me like that. you’re a brat today, aren’t you?” 

you caught the slight sparkle in her eye in reaction to your attitude, which just pushed you further. she was enjoying this, seeing you act up. you kept the same tone to your voice, looking up into her eyes as her ring-clad hand pressed down on your neck.

“well, i think i deserve to be a brat, after being left hanging for almost an hour.”

she pressed down slightly harder on your neck, her nails digging into your skin slightly and her eyes narrowing as she held your eye contact. 

“is that really how you want to play this? don’t act like you didn’t wait around here like an obedient little slut for that whole hour.” 

you could’ve sworn you felt your brain falter as her words went straight to your core, because when she talked like that, you always melted a little bit inside. you couldn’t find any quick smartass comeback this time, but you didn’t want to look even more pathetic by fumbling for a response you weren’t going to find, so you simply rolled your eyes.

at your eye roll, she pressed her lips together slightly, “where’s the good girl i normally get to fuck? hmm?” she said those words as if your bratty attitude is somehow displeasing to her, but you knew for a fact that it was the opposite. she loved when you were like this, it gave her an excuse to be rougher, meaner. 

“guess i’ll just have to remind you how to behave, won’t i?” 

the hand on your neck snaked around to the back of your head, where she took a fistful of your hair in her hand and tugged roughly at it, sending a stinging sensation to your scalp. she used the hand she was pulling your hair with to angle your face upwards, so you were looking right up into her eyes. you held the eye contact, an almost challenging look in your eyes as you spoke again.

“maybe you should. might wanna hurry up with it, though. getting bored here.” that was a blatant lie, you were not bored, and you could listen to her degrade you like you were her slut for hours, but you wanted to push her. you wanted her to be unable to resist fucking you hard. no matter how good the other girls she’d fucked at the party were, you would be better, and you were sure of it. you had to stand out somehow.

your words did indeed have the intended effect on billie, and she let out a scoff, giving your hair another harsh tug as a reminder that she was in charge. 

“watch that fuckin’ mouth, sweetheart. it looks better when it’s being put to use.”

that, of course, was the perfect opening for another bratty remark, and you were too deep in to resist winding her up now. “well, i don’t see you putting it to use, do i?” 

and… that was it. you could practically see something in the wiring of her brain change as she snapped. “that’s it,” she breathed out, her grip on your hair tightening as she climbed off you, pulling you off the bed and pushing you to your knees on the floor in front of her in an instant. 

“you really can’t learn to shut your pretty little mouth, can you? you know, you’re a lot prettier when you shut up.”

she was unbuttoning her pants as she spoke, and you could see the bulge of her strap-on underneath the clothes. within moments, her pants were discarded on the floor, revealing her signature long red strap. for how long she’d spent on the back and forth teasing, she sure seemed to be in a rush now. her hand returned to your hair, gathering it in a makeshift ponytail, harshly tugging your head back to an angle that worked for her. 

“you’re also a lot prettier on your knees, so gorgeous f’me.”

those words were misleading, almost soft. when she spoke again, her voice was raspy as she looked down at you with that harsh look in her eyes. “my fuckin’ slut. gonna take what i give you, and you’re not gonna complain.” 

that you weren’t, even in your bratty state, you knew you weren’t in a place to complain, on your knees in front of her. plus, you were pretty sure that you wouldn’t need to complain, not for this. you were right, when she pushed the strap-on into your mouth. you hollowed out your cheeks to make it easier to take—not that billie was at all concerned with whether this was easy for you. she wanted to make you cry, she wanted you to be an absolute mess, right there in front of her and on your knees.

your tongue swirled along the sides of the strap, putting on a show for her. she smirked, loving that she had finally shut you up. the satisfaction of seeing you no longer talking back didn’t last for long, however, and soon she had tightened her grip on your hair, holding your head firmly in place. then, she started thrusting the strap as deep as she possibly could inside your mouth.

you faltered at first, your gag reflex acting up, as always. you’d always had a bad gag reflex, but billie didn’t seem to care. after a moment, you managed to sort out the gagging reflex, but it wasn’t long before it was acting up again. you could feel the tears prickling at your eyes, as you always did when billie did this. you were convinced the only reason billie ever got you to suck off the strap was so she could see you cry when you gagged. 

after a while, you felt the tears rolling down your cheeks, mixing with the spit that had gathered around your mouth from the sheer pace at which billie was thrusting the strap into you. you let out a muffled whimper around the faux dick, and if you could look up and move your head from the tight grasp billie had on your hair, you’d see the cocky smirk painted on her face. she loved shutting you up like this, and she loved seeing the tears rolling down your cheeks. it was a reminder that she could make you into a mess like no one else ever could. 

“god, look at you. so pathetic f’me.” 

eventually, once billie was satisfied with how much of a mess you were, she pulled the strap out of your mouth, using the still-harsh grip on your hair to pull you up off your knees. she manhandled you to your feet in front of her, looking you up and down for a moment with a smirk. she took a moment to just take the sight in, your hair messy from how she’d held it, your cheeks tear-stained, and a slightly dumb, empty look in your eyes—oh, how she just adored how much of a mess she could make you. 

it wasn’t long that she spent admiring you—she was still in a bad mood, and she desperately needed to blow off some steam. pretty soon, she had crossed her arms while she looked at you closely, “strip.”

you didn’t hesitate—she was unbelievably good at stripping you of your brattiness, as well as your clothes. you could feel any stubbornness you’d had leaving your body at an alarming speed. once you were stood there in front of her in just your bra and panties, billie’s lips twitched up into a small, satisfied smirk. she placed a hand on your shoulder, pushing you backwards to the bed with ease, and you fell backwards onto the sheets and pillows that had been perfectly smoothed out by the hotel staff earlier that day—they wouldn’t be looking that flawless for much longer. 

she took a few more moments just admiring you, in front of her on the bed, almost bare. her index finger slipped under your panties before letting them snap back onto your skin with a teasing grin. her other hand moved to your bra, where she tweaked at one of your nipples through the lace, the sharp pain rushing straight to your core.

it wasn’t long before she’d manhandled you into the position she wanted—from behind, it seemed to be a favourite of hers—and rid you of your bra and panties. she lined the strap up with your entrance, and within moments, she’d thrusted the strap fully into you, not giving you any time to adjust. one of her hands circled your clit teasingly, dipping inside your pussy briefly and gathering your wetness on her finger with a smug smirk.

“so wet…that all from me throwing you around? treating you like some dumb toy? fuckin’ whore.” 

you let out an utterly pathetic whimper, and she chuckled darkly as she thrusted into you roughly from behind, your pussy swallowing her so perfectly, so willingly—a huge contrast from the bratty display you’d been putting on earlier. her hand squeezed at your ass as she gathered your hair into a makeshift ponytail again, harshly forcing your head back. 

“mm, look at you taking me so well, so much prettier when you just shut up. moments like this remind me why you’re my favourite.” you were sure you weren’t her favourite, you were sure she said that to all her girls, but you didn’t care. you let out a moan at her words, and she gave your hair another tug in response. “so fuckin’ pretty when you let me do the thinking, baby.” 

she gave your hair another harsh pull to emphasise her next words, “dumb brats don’t need to think, yeah?”

you whined again, and she laughed, the hand that was grasping your hair moved to circle around your neck, squeezing slightly. it wasn’t enough to really hurt you, just a display of dominance—as if the way she was thrusting into you wasn’t enough to tell who was in charge. 

the metal of her rings dug into the skin of your neck as she squeezed, and another moan spilled from your lips at the feeling combined with the pace at which she was fucking you from behind. 

keeping her pace the same and her hand around your neck, she asked, “colour?” she always checked in, no matter how caught up in fucking you she might seem, she was always attentive to your signals. 

“green,” you muttered, surprised you even managed to get a word out with the amount of pleasure you were feeling.

she grinned, although you couldn’t see it, and kept pounding into you at the same harsh speed, the hand that wasn’t around your neck squeezing your ass again. then, she leaned over to speak in your ear, her body pressed against your back. her lips brushed against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. god, she knew what she was doing. 

“still think i’m a bitch, hm?” 

you debated just not replying, but you knew that being bratty again was just what she wanted you to do—and who were you to deny her? “a bitch who’s fucking me good, yeah.” 

if you could see her, you would’ve seen her smirk widen as her warm breath fanned over your neck near your ear, and she gave your ear a teasing nip, “still a brat, i see. guess i’ll just have to fuck it out of you.”

she moved away from your ear, the hand around your neck moving back to its previous position in your hair, tugging your head back with her harsh grip. her other hand moved to your hip, holding you in place as she thrusted into you. another trail of moans fell from your lips, your hands moving to dig into the sheets of the bed. “i’m- fuck, billie—” 

she laughed condescendingly, giving your thigh a slap, and you whimpered as the pain sunk in. “mm, a bitch who’s fucking you so good you can’t even form a whole sentence, right?” 

you just cried out at her words, your hands gripping the sheets as your walls clenched around her strap, your head going fuzzy from the pleasure she was bringing you. you didn’t care how many other girls she had fucked right before she got here, not when she was fucking you this good. you were so, so close, and she could tell.

“cum on my cock, baby. wanna see you fall apart,” she gave your hip a squeeze and tugged your hair, and that was enough to push you over the edge. you came with a moan, clinging onto the sheets like your life depended on it, pleasure washing over you in the most intense waves. your eyes squeezed shut as you mumbled incoherent nonsense, “bils, fuck—oh my god…”

she grinned again, keeping up the bruising pace, which you assumed was just her helping you ride through your orgasm. but even once you’d come down from the intense pleasure, she was still thrusting deeply inside you, causing whimpers to fall from your lips. 

“bils, too much–fuck, it hurts—”

giving your hair another pull, she spoke with that same raspy voice, “i don’t care if it hurts, you’re gonna take what i fuckin’ give you, mamas. you know what to do if it’s really too much.” 

you let out a strangled cry as she kept pounding into you, the pleasure mixing with pain and creating an intense feeling of ecstasy—but she was right, if you needed her to stop, you knew what to say. but you didn’t, you just kept letting out those same broken moans as your hands tangled in the sheets. your release was gathering around the base of the silicone as she pounded into you. 

she let go of your hair, moving her hand so both of them were firmly holding your hips, keeping you in place as she fucked into you at that bruising pace. you were almost certain you would have bruises from how firm her grip on your hips was—not to mention how unlikely it was that you’d be able to walk the next day—but you didn’t care. it just felt too good, her fucking into you like this, the way she was manhandling you…

it wasn’t long before one of her hands snuck down to your clit, circling it torturously with her index finger and drawing even more desperate moans from your lips. you were embarrassingly close to your second orgasm, it couldn’t have been longer than five minutes since you came down from the last, but you could feel your walls clenching around her strap again. 

billie noticed this, of course, and you could visualise the smug smirk on her lips when she spoke. “gonna cum f’me again, pretty girl? god, you look so much better like this.” 

so, you came around her cock for the second time that night, moans falling from your lips like music. your arms were aching from holding yourself up, and you slumped down slightly, resting your head on the newly messed up sheets of the bed, a soft sigh escaping you. your thoughts were jumbled and you couldn’t pick out a single coherent thought amidst the mess of pleasure, your thoughts just a repeating mantra of billie’s name. 

after a moment, billie pulled the strap out of you, and you whined again at the feeling of emptiness that took over you. she laughed softly, a slight condescending undertone to it, before grabbing your shoulders to turn you over so you were laying on your back. her touch was decidedly more gentle than it had been earlier, but she clearly wasn’t finished with you yet. 

once you were on your back, she pushed your thighs apart and settled down between them, propping herself up with her elbows and looking up at you. her lips twitched upwards when she took in the expression on your face, you were completely wrecked—and she’d made you like that. she watched as you took deep, heavy breaths, your head resting back against the bed as you stared at the ceiling. 

“can you move up f’me? get your head on the pillow, ma.” 

her voice was almost soft, and you nodded quietly, using your weak arms to pull yourself up the bed slightly. once your head was resting on the pillow, you let out a soft sigh of relief—your neck was aching from how hard she’d been gripping it, so the pillow gave you some much needed extra support. 

she looked at you for a moment, before speaking again, that raspy hint to her voice still very much present. she seemed a bit more cautious than she had been, a lot of her frustration from the day clearly fading from how hard she’d fucked you. “i wanna taste you, baby. colour?” 

you nod softly, exhaling slowly. you were exhausted from how hard she’d been fucking you, but you needed her mouth on you. “mhm, green.” 

it didn’t take any more confirmation for her to lean down and bury her face in your pussy, her hands gripping your thighs and holding you firmly in place. her tongue licked a stripe up your slit, drawing a loud moan from you. your thighs instinctively closed around her head, the amount of pleasure she’d given you hard to bear. she tsked, giving your thigh a warning slap and firmly forcing them open again,

“stay still.” 

two fingers slipped inside you with ease, and she started thrusting them inside you at a torturously slow pace while her tongue circled your sensitive bud. the slow pace was a contrast from how fast she had previously been pounding into you, and you knew she was doing it on purpose to drive you insane. everything she did was always so calculated, exactly what you needed at that moment to make you fall apart, to make you an absolute mess for her. 

her free hand moved up to your tits, giving them both a soft, misleading squeeze, before harshly pinching your nipple between her index finger and thumb, laughing mockingly when you let out a soft cry of pain.

“oh, it hurts? hm, you’re fuckin’ pathetic, baby. such a mess.”

the sounds of her fingers inside you echoed around the hotel room, the only sound other than your moans. you were so impossibly wet, and you could feel another orgasm approaching rapidly as her fingers curled inside you, “mm, you’re taking me so well. such a good, dumb slut for me, hm?” 

your walls clenched around her fingers at her words, and she grinned, nipping at your inner thigh teasingly before returning her tongue to your clit. “yeah, my good little slut. like when i call you that, ma?” 

you moaned again, and you were coming on her fingers before you could stop yourself, your body going limp against the bed as you were hit by your third high of the night, moans falling weakly from your lips. 

billie didn’t stop her movements, her tongue moving from your clit to your pussy, gathering your taste on her warm tongue and moaning softly. her fingers replaced your tongue at your clit, and you flinched as they circled your sensitive bud. 

you let out a whine as her tongue kept up her movements, slurring out a soft protest through the pain of being so overstimulated, “bils, i can’t– ‘m too sensitive—”

she hummed against your pussy, the vibrations eliciting another moan from you. she pulled back ever so slightly to respond, but you could still feel her warm breaths hitting your clit in the most achingly pleasurable way.

 “fuckin’ take it like a good girl, know you can.” her fingers kept circling your clit. “you want to be a good girl for me, right? make up for being such a brat?” 

you nodded desperately, because yes, you wanted to be her good girl. you wanted to please her, “yes, fuck– wanna be your good girl, billie-” 

billie grinned, her tongue returning to where it had been, slipping inside you as her fingers teased your clit, “mhm, my good girl. my favourite girl.” 

you whined at the pleasure she brought you, trying not to close your thighs around her head again as they shook from the sheer pleasure of this moment. you didn’t even really comprehend her words, the way she kept throwing around the lie that you were her favourite.

you didn’t even care if you weren’t her favourite girl, being one of the girls was more than enough for you. you didn’t care how many other girls she’d fucked right before this, because you could feel her tongue coaxing yet another powerful orgasm out of you. a sob left your lips, the pleasure overwhelming you and taking over your body in every way possible. god, she was too good at this.

you opened your mouth to warn her, but all that came out was a moan as she flicked your clit with her finger, and the dam broke. your head fell back against the pillow as liquid gushed out of you, soaking her chin and the sheets below you. 

she eagerly lapped at it, and you let out another strangled whine, your hand reaching out to her head. your fingers tangled in her hair, trying to guide her off you. your things were shaking, your skin tingling, your body drenched in sweat, your mind foggy.

it was too much, the pleasure becoming too overwhelming. you’d have told her that if you could form words, but she took your signal and dragged her mouth away from your pussy, pressing a few soft kisses to your inner thigh. 

“mm, look how messy you are, mamas. such a messy slut, all for me?”

you whined softly as she pressed kisses to your trembling thighs, “all for you.”

she grinned up at you smugly from where she lay between your thighs, her eyes raking over your face and body. her smile widened as she took in just how wrecked she’d made you, your hair messy and your body limp and exhausted, paired with the marks that were already appearing on your hips and neck from her harsh grip. she found you unbelievably gorgeous when you were like this, and she gave one of your thighs a teasing squeeze. 

she had fucked the brattiness out of you, just like she’d said she would. 

“see, baby, what did i tell you? so much prettier when you’re not being a brat.”

[evie-sturns]

FAV CREATORS I NEED MORE MORE MORE

okay let me think

@bambi-slxt @55sturn @bernardsbendystraws @canthelpit0 @mattscoquette @hysteria-things

that’s all i can think of for now but i definitely forgot someone

[canthelpit0]

Pls I love you sm 😭🫶🏼

@nickgetsmewetter

[canthelpit0]

Tbh lunch by Billie eilish is such a fanfictionable song, but I don’t wanna write it for a straight relationship ykwim.

Like it’s an iconic lesbian song

[canthelpit0]

crying

may you feed the angst monster? it yearns the pain and ache of a childhood friends to lovers but they never actually get to be lovers? perhaps one's moves away or billie thinks she's too busy and won't be enough? (happy ending though cuz angst monster is a little sensitive baby)

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: Parallel lines

A/n: Broken knees, unspoken words at one time, and a bunch of motley band-aids . As a child, you carefully tend to Billie's every bruise and wound, hiding them behind the surface of funny band-aids, while she herself hides from you like seven seals, covering herself with a half-hearted smile. A few years later, having suddenly cut off all ties with each other, you meet again - she is a world-famous star, still breaking her knees, you are a paramedic assigned to her in a hurry, who has a set of absurd band-aids in your pocket.

"Billie!" The child's voice trembles fearfully, picked up by the sultry wind of early morning, which is already spilling across the sky with the barely rolled orange disk of the sun, so seductively reminiscent of a juicy orange. The wind blasts you with a new wave of heat, and you shaking as if you'd been thrown out the door into a crackling, freeze-stinging winter in just a t-shirt - fear creeps to the very bottom of your soul, clinging to the strings of your nerves along the way. You clutch the half-full water bottle restlessly in your palms a few times, making the plastic crunch loudly. "Billie! Please get off!"

"There's more!" Eilish chuckles sonorously, gleefully, like a bird, and climbs up the tree farther and higher, as if he wants to touch the lush green leaves of the spreading crown with his fingers. "I'll prove to you that it's not the least bit scary, Y/n!"

You bite your lower lip in excitement, and it's as if it's the only thing that helps you hold back the hailstones of tears coming insistently to your eyes: such an interesting and bizarre contrast, with you on the ground almost sobbing and her laughing aloft.

"Please, Billie..." You sniffle your nose, wiping the very tip with the stretched sleeve of your red sweatshirt, making the fabric immediately get a little wet. Your voice is about to break in its pitifulness and break.

Billie turns around, looking over her shoulder at you from above, and for a few moments her confident, clear-blue river softens in her gaze, causing her eyebrows to arch and arch, and her small lips to stretch at the very corners in an awkward but understanding smile.

"Okay, I'll-" her phrase-agreement is immediately drowned out in her own shriek as Billie puts her foot lower on the tree trunk without looking, too hastily, and as a result: slips sharply on the sandpaper-like bark, clinging with palms in fear. She snaps off, and with indescribable frustration flopping backwards on the ground, right up to the roots of the young oak tree, onto the grass spread out around you like a green carpet.

"Eilish!" You immediately run up to her, snapping in an asynchronous ricochet like a frightened gopher gerbil. You plop down on the ground in front of her, palms on her shoulders, squeezing them a little, either for support or for your own reassurance.

Billie whimpers softly, dropping her gaze into the green of the park lawn as mournfully as if she'd lost the war: more, clear beads of tears rolling down her face, her cheeks starting to turn pink. Confusion mixed with the blush of weeping.

"Does it hurt much...?" You ask quietly, stroking her head soothingly with your small palm. She sniffs her nose loudly, shows you her bloodied palms and nods silently, stoically swallowing a loud, tearful howl. You release your gaze a little lower and stare at her bloody mottled knees, only now the mottling, unlike her hands, is covered with black smears of dirt and green grass sap. Actively appearing scarlet beads of blood on her skin make you cringe and fumble with trembling fingers in your shorts pocket for a crumpled pack of band-aids, a small permanent "amulet" handed to you every day. handed to you repeatedly by your mom. "I'll help..."

You hurriedly unscrew the bright yellow cap from the bottle, and a dozen images flash before your eyes: how did your mom do it? What did she say? It seems like you should always wash the wound first, right? You nod confidently to your thoughts, and then you tilt the bottle gently, lifting the neck to her skinned knees: a clean, cool trickle of water pulls all the dirt right down with it, dripping onto the ground as you help with your palm, barely touching the tortured skin, and Billie only hisses painfully, but doesn't move away from you, only her legs twitching faintly in pain. You rustle a few strips of Band-Aids out of the box, frowning seriously like a doctor, and pick up the paper protecting the soft pad of the Band-Aid and its sticky layer with your fingertips. When the bloody meshes and peeled skin fall under the undeniable protection of your pink Hello Kitty patches, glued on a little crookedly but firmly, Eilish holds out her palms to you, looking straight at you, trust, gratitude, and a silent plea for forgiveness in her weeping blue eyes. You silently rinse her hands, too, cover the wounds with rectangles of girl's band-aids, and hold her close in a comforting embrace. Billie sniffs, but clings to you in response, her hands buzzing and burning with pain tightly clasped behind your back. Unconditional mutual reassurance and trust.

"Aren't you going to tell mom...?" Her hot, low whisper tickles your ear pleasantly.

And you answer, snuggling only closer to her, "I won't."

And you two don't care that everything will be absurdly obvious to Maggie when you get back home.

×××

"Eilish, you're going to kill yourself someday!" You frown, grasping the weighty cotton roll with your fingers and pulling hard, sharply: the little fluffy lump is on your clinging fingertips in no time. You immediately deftly pick up the bottle with a sharp-smelling antiseptic, blotting the absorbent cotton and pre-treating your palms. The open wounds on your fingers (stupid habit of tearing cuticles) are instantly stung by the alcohol, but you don't even twitch: it's a matter of habit. "Do you want to be without knees at all by the time you're old?"

Eilish hums, shaking her head to brush ash-gray strands of hair out of her eyes. She bites her lip and staring childishly into the bedroom floor, never admitting that her bloody knees stung, never making a sound, proudly swallowing every it, even the ones that came up in the back of her throat.

"I had to put my best foot forward today." Her detached voice draws your tenacious, frowning gaze to the top of her head in an instant.

"That doesn't mean you have to paint the dance studio floors maroon!" You hissing at her in a parental manner, fumbling with your hands in your small makeshift med-bag for cooling ointment for bruises.

You mutter to yourself, and Eilish smiles dully, impenetrable and silent, no longer answering. She twitches slightly a couple times, the first from the sharp contrast of the cold ointment against her skin temperature as you gently rub the ointment into her knees, and the second from a mild fit of tics, her head jerking toward the ceiling. You can tell now that she's definitely nervous about something. You gently touch her face with your chiseled palms only when you finish gluing stupid plasters with painted spiders on her wounds, and wiping your hands with a damp cloth. The sterility habit attaches itself to you so imperceptibly that you don't even realize it.

"Hey," you whisper softly, and Billie immediately flatters her cheek against your palm. "I'm sorry if I grumbled like a grandmother again."

The blue oceans in her eyes murmur, foaming with something incomprehensible, but clearly not malicious. A soft smile crossed by a glance back to the pile of the carpet as her head jerks sharply again in a Tourette's tic. "It's nothing." Her quiet whisper.

You only put your arms around her, gently wrapping your long arms around her in the manner of a life preserver, the only thing that will keep Eilish from drowning in the murk of her own thoughts right now. Her shoulders and back are tense like a tight string, but her hands, sliding down somewhat lazily over your shoulder blades through the cotton of your voluminous black t-shirt, are gentle, careful.

"Will you tell me?" You whisper softly, trying not to sneeze as her ash-gray strands climb up your nose: soft, pear-scented. "And hey, how many times have I told you tics are normal."

And her shoulders relax in an instant, and she seems to become boneless almost entirely, spreading out in our arms, nestling close to you like a warm, California sea wave. Nestled, but also immediately "caught": you feel the warmth of her slightly trembling palms on your shoulder blades again, but now it is static, immovable.

And she tells you. Tells you about every thought languishing under her skull, every worry about the upcoming tryouts for the dance production. She tells you, exactly one week before the upcoming incident that will turn her life upside down a hundred and eighty degrees, while you whisper words of encouragement to her, and she gulps inquisitively into your eyes, saying nothing and at the same time saying everything in the world.

×××

Her sobs shake her body silently, and she clutches at you with trembling fingers, nearly pulling your t-shirt off your shoulders through a collar that has been stretched by time and many washings. No longer screaming, no longer howling loudly, bringing even her favorite old bulldog Pepper to her ears, but trembling like the flame of a nearly extinguished candle that reaches the hot, melted wax with a hiss. She's been crying for the beat three hours, the sun having long since rolled indifferently away over the horizon, straining the string of stars and the darkness of the sky with its hot, round side as if they were caught on it. And you keep stroking her just as gently, not even changing the diligent, soft amplitude, you crumble in a huge number of quiet words of support, modestly reaching almost the second million. She's trembling, and there's nothing you can do - such an injury can't be sealed with any of your even stupidest band-aids.

"I won't be able to dance anymore..." Her sob-weary voice is hoarse, and you're in so much pain it feels like someone is mercilessly tearing expensive velvet with their bare hands. "I'm nothing now..."

You can only choke mournfully on your unspoken words and thoughts as you continue to pet her-you'd rather die right now under her tired body than tell her that you have to move to another state this morning. She crumbles in thoughts of her own insignificance, you in the realization that there's nothing you can do to help now.

"Please leave me..." She also wheezes hotly. "I'm nothing now, I'm nobody, I can't do anything..."

And you cry for the first time in three hours, burying your wet nose against the top of her head. Hot tears flow down your cheeks, dripping onto her gray hair like mournful rain on ashes after a fire. Your two million words about her importance don't work.

"Are you sure...?" You ask her softly-quietly, and she only nods, lying lifelessly on top of you as she does.

You take a dozen promises from her that she won't do anything stupid, and then leave as she wishes. After five hours you roll the wheels of your yellow suitcase down the lane in the early morning, shuffling your feet languidly while the whole neighborhood of Highland Park is asleep (you'd be happier going to the scaffold of the French Revolution), and Billie lies sleepless in her bed, shrunken into a life-beaten lump. Her heart aches for the closed road of the future, but even more for the loss of you. She's well aware of your move, heard snippets of it from her mother's conversations. The thought that it will be better acts like a dulling but not curing painkiller - she's broken now anyway, she has no future with you. She is nothing, and she now nothing can give anything to the person for whom she was willing to sell the whole world to the devil.

"I take no offense." Said in a whisper in the emptiness of her own room, as if you'd hear it, it masks something else. "I love you so damn much." Screams her thoughts. As if you'll actually hear it.

"I love you." You think and slam the door of your mom's old sedan. Your thoughts scream parallel to each other, wanting to break all the laws of geometry and converge into one smooth, clear line. Screaming, but they can't hear.

×××

You meet exactly seven years later: she is not a broken girl, but a singer, with her voice and even a single gesture able to control almost the entire auditorium of millions of people on every continent; you are a paramedic, a little tired of life, but faithful to your chosen profession, who no longer holds a stupid homemade first aid kit, but a weighty, professional first aid bag behind your back. You meet, knowing perfectly well who's in front of you, and she even now recognizes you in seconds - no badges, no introductions. You sit down gently on your knees in front of her, spreading the ight worn medic bag out on the floor, and she can't tear her gaze away from you, raging oceans of irises in recognition. Your face is hidden behind the pale blue fabric of a medical mask, you haven't uttered a word since entering her dressing room after the show, and she doesn't care at all - she recognizes you by your grown-up, tired eyes, as if she's found a warm glow of caring in them, familiar from childhood. From your past lives.

"You..." Eilish's voice is a little husky from the concert, but it still feels pleasant, velvety. Expensive.

"Hello, Ms. O'Connell." You smile with the very corners of your lips, which is made vaguely clear by the slight squint. Billie squirms a little on the huge black couch, as if the detailed address from your lips scratches her heart like a rusty nail.

She looks at you throughout the whole process: hungrily, almost prayerfully, catching your movements, which have become a little sharper, more refined, more mechanical over the years. She tries to catch your gaze, but it's as if you are deliberately avoiding the murmuring, restless oceans. Your fingertips twitch so treacherously, though almost imperceptibly. As when you were a child, you carefully treat her wounds on your knees with antiseptic and ointment (Billie shudders at the touch of the cool, thin latex of your gloves and the even colder ointment), and then lean over to the medicine cabinet to find band-aids. Billie has words stuck deep in her song-weary windpipe, you have stuck thoughts in your head that resemble bubblegum. You lean over her lap, pulling a piece of paper off a couple of Band-Aids at once, and suddenly you're hovering.

"Y/n, I..." Billie's voice is drowned out by rustling and light thudding. You tuck the pack of Band-Aids back into the medicine cabinet and reach into the pockets of your medically bright red jacket with your hand.

"You... Do you need a 'fuck,' 'crap' or 'shit' patch?" Your voice quivers in laughter as you unfurl strips of band-aids fan-like in front of her and see the dazed, confused look in her eyes. You remember.

"There's with "I love you?" She whispers softly, and looks into your eyes ever so gently and a little fearfully, as if wanting to wrap herself in your gaze like a warm plaid.

"No, but..." You stumble quietly over the words, unzipping three ridiculous patches and gluing them from gently onto her right knee. "I can say it out loud, if that's possible." Your hands shake more visibly as you also cover her now left knee behind the strips of silly words.

Barely do the sticky strips lock onto her skin as she suddenly jumps up like a wound up spring, plopping onto the newly healed lap bravely and eagerly clinging to your lips with hers, shifting the mask so deftly that you don't even realize it before you do, only lips obediently opening for her. It feels right. You involuntarily exhale hotly into the kiss, as if you'd forgotten how to breathe at all.

"I love you." You say it almost simultaneously as she pulls away and presses gently against your forehead with hers.

Two parallel lines of thought come together against all odds. And it's the right thing to do. With her, it's definitely right.

[canthelpit0]

Do yall want this??

There is a lot of internalized racism in this one.

@muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo

[canthelpit0]

Why is it so much easier for me to write smut for Chris, then Matt😭😭

I’m writing a ff inspired by the unreleased song “come through” rn. (For Chris) when do yall want it??

[canthelpit0]

Ik I’ve been gone for like ages,

But it’s my birthday in like 2 minutes 🤭