#chrisblurb

ⁱⁿ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ staring at dealerᵎᵎchris’s gun tucked in the waistband of his pants had your thoughts running 100 mph.

“damn kid what you doin be careful” chris said as you sat on his lap directly on the gun resting in his waistband, his words went in one ear and out the other as you place soft kisses on his neck slowly grinding down onto the gun. moving his arm to remove the gun from his pants you halt your movements gripping his arm "keep it there" Chris lets out a breathy scoff looking at you "keep it there?" "please Chris" you whine grinding down harder letting your head fall onto his shoulder. Chris was in awe at the sight, never seeing this side of you before, looking so fucking pathetic."fuck baby look at you" he breathes out digging his fingers in your thighs helping your sloppy movements. it felt so good. your head going fuzzy as soft moans left your lips "please" you whine not even 100% sure what you were begging for. you just needed more. "please what hm? im gonna need more than that baby" "need you to touch me so bad please" you breath out a whiny moan the hard gun resting in his pants rubbing against you perfectly. chris lets out a hum and lays you on your back on the couch, placing soft kisses on your inner thighs teasingly "chris stop teasing..want you to touch me with your gun" you mumbled the last part quietly, not sure how chris would take it. but he heard you. and he was more then happy to agree to the idea "you sure mama?" you nod quickly letting out a string of quiet begs. Chris smirks pulling the gun from his waistband and unloading it, throwing the clip to the side. slowly tracing the gun up your thighs and brushing it over your thin silky shorts that Chris loves so much. you whine bucking your hips making chris's smirk grow "aw look at you baby,can see how wet you are through your shorts." Chris pulls your shorts down mouth watering at the sight of your glistening cunt before gently placing the cold tip of the gun flat against your clit causing you to let out a gasp 'o-oh" Chris is enjoying every second of this. the way your mouth is hung open, the way your hips bucked into the gun. it was enough to make him cum in his pants right there. choked moans left your lips as he circled the cold tip around your clit slowly. he couldn't help but grind his hips into the couch at the sight. you looked to pretty. "m..more please" Chris could barely understand you, taking a min for it to really process before he's back to smirking like an idiot rubbing the tip of the gun teasingly over your entrance "such a pathetic slut" he breathed out before slowly sliding the tip of the gun into you looking up at your face to make sure he wasn't hurting you. once he seen nothing but pure pleasure on your face he looked back down at your dripping cunt before moving the gun in and out of you causing your back to arch and choked sobs to leave your lips. chris continued to grind into the couch as he watched the tip of 𝒉𝒊𝒔 gun sliding in and out of 𝒉𝒊𝒔 girl. it was the prettiest sight he has ever seen "such a pathetic girl look at you all fucked out on my gun hm" he knew you were close with your body spasming "come on baby let go for me you can do it" he licks his lips before he's sucking and lapping at your clit adding onto the pleasure of his gun sliding in and out of you "just let go mama." your stomach tightened as your pleasure built up mumbling mindless babbles and curses as your orgasm crashes over you. "atta girl" chris slowly slides his gun out of you before bringing it up to your lips watching you lick around the tip of it "fuck baby your gonna have to use your mouth on me like that next."

ⁱⁿ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ exᵎᵎmatt sends your annoying boyfriend a video of him fucking you.

whimpers and the sounds of the bed creaking fill mats room. you know what your doing is wrong, you just came to get your things back and leave. but matt knows what to say to get to you, and he takes that to his advantage. hence why your legs are currently slung over his shoulders as his slow sloppy thrusts hit your spot over and over again. "tssk look at you mama such a mess" matt coos brushing his thumb over your bottom lip where you started drooling, all you could do was let out more choked babbles, to fucked out to form a sentence. this has been going on for a while now, matt fucking into you sloppy and heavy, putting his bodyweight into each thrust, but everytime that band in your stomach was about to snap matt pulled out. "oh i know baby i know im so mean huh" his voice laced with fake sympathy, but matt didn't feel bad at all. your fucked out expression, the way you claw at his arms looking for some support, he was enjoying all of this. matt grabbed your face as more incoherent babbles left your mouth "cmon sweetheart speak up f'me" he was messing with you. each thrust more forcefull as the words left his mouth. you were begging, barley audible but matt heard it. his girl was begging to let go. "y'wanna cum baby hm?' matt smirked at how eagerly you nodded your head, before grabbing your phone and hitting the record button, he wanted your boyfriend to see how he had you, to see that he will never make you feel as good as matt does. "go ahead baby cameras all on you" he coos panning the camera down to his hips snapping into you before moving it back to your face, capturing your eyes rolling back and your body shaking, that band in your stomach finally snapping, pornographic moans left your mouth."loook at that mama" matt whispers bittersweet, showing the camera your soaked cunt before stopping the video and quickly pressing send.

Twelve hours.

Birdie had managed to ignore him for exactly twelve hours, forty two minutes, and—she checked her lock screen again—sixteen seconds. It was a personal record. Usually the "toxic itch" to have the last word got the better of her by hour three, but calling Christopher a narcissistic prick to his face in the middle of the courtyard had provided a lasting high. She had expected a barrage of texts. She’d expected his low, terrifyingly calm voice to be vibrating through her voicemail.

Instead? Silence.

The silence was worse. It felt like he was winning the "who cares less" game, a sport they both played at a professional level. She took a long drag of her vape, the cherry-flavored cloud hovering in the stale air of her dorm room, and stared at the door as if she could set it on fire with her mind.

Then, a knock.

Birdie scrambled, kicking a pile of laundry under her bed and checking her reflection in the mirror. She made sure her eyeliner looked just smeared enough to suggest she’d been out having fun, not rotting in bed staring at a gray text bubble. She threw the door open, her sharpest insult locked and loaded.

"Look Christopher. I told you—"

She stopped. It wasn’t Chris. It was a guy in a neon vest holding a crinkled brown paper bag. "Delivery for... Birdie?" the guy asked, looking confused by the name.

"That's me" she muttered, her ego taking a literal bruising as she handed over a tip.

She slammed the door and dumped the bag on her desk. Inside were three bags of the specific sour strips she liked, the ones in the blue packaging that were always sold out at the campus bodega. Taped to the back of the last bag was a heavy, cream-colored cardstock note. The handwriting was neat, slanted, and infuriatingly composed.

> eat these and stop being dramatic. i'll be over at eight. >

No capital letters. No "sorry." Just a command and a deadline.

"Asshole" she whispered, already tearing the first bag open with her teeth. The sour sugar hit her tongue, and she hated how much better it made her feel.

She spent the next hour intentionally not getting ready. She didn't change her clothes, she just put on a darker lip gloss and sat on her windowsill dangling one leg off the edge, scrolling through her phone.

At exactly 8:00 PM, there was no knock. The door simply opened.

Chris walked in, his jaw set in that familiar, rigid line. He was wearing a black hoodie, smelling of expensive cologne and a hint of smoke. He didn't say anything at first. He just looked at the empty bag of sour strips on her desk, then looked at her. "You're late" Birdie snapped, even though he was perfectly on time. "And I'm still mad at you."

Chris leaned against her doorframe, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't even look angry. He just had that smirk, the one that said he’d already won.

"You're not mad" he said, his voice a low, smooth vibration that made the hair on her arms stand up. "You're just hungry. And you've been staring at the door for the last twenty minutes waiting for me to walk through it."

"I was not."

"Birdie." He stepped closer, invading her space until she had to tilt her head back to look at him. He leaned down, his face inches from hers, his voice dropping an octave. "Your jaw clenches when you lie. It’s embarrassing." He reached out, his thumb brushing a stray grain of sour sugar from the corner of her lip. He didn't pull away. He just watched her waiting for her to snap, waiting for the "bitchy" comeback he secretly lived for.

Birdie felt her heart hammer against her ribs. She hated him. She really did. She hated his ego, his calm, and the way he knew exactly which blue bag to buy to get back into her room.

She took a slow, deliberate breath and blew a puff of cherry scented vapor directly into his face.

"You're still a narcissistic prick Christopher."

The corner of his mouth twitched, the closest thing to a real smile he ever gave. "Maybe. But I'm the only one who knows you like the blue bags better than the red ones. Get your shoes on. We're leaving."

"I didn't say I was going anywhere with you."

"You didn't have to" he murmured, already turning toward the door, knowing damn well she was already reaching for her boots. "I'll be in the car. Try not to keep me waiting. It’s bad for the vibe."

FRAT!CHRIS AND BIRDIE!READER

frat!chris •unapologetically an asshole. a smirk that says he knows something you don't (he doesn't, he's just high). He doesn't yell because he thinks raising his voice is “doing to much”. Instead, he speaks in a low, terrifyingly calm voice that annoys the fuck out of birdie. "I saw you laughing at that guy's joke. It was embarrassing. For you, not him. Don't do it again”. "i bought your favorite snacks. not because i care, they were just on sale and i knew you’d whine if i didn't have them”.

birdie!reader • Chris is being a dick, she’s being a bitch right back. usually with a drink in one hand and a vape in the other. claims to hate Chris’s ego but secretly feeds it.loves the rush of their toxic back andforth. will purposely mention a "cute guy" in her psych class just to watch Chris's jaw clench. "stop double texting me. it’s embarrassing. i’ll reply when i’m bored enough to talk to you”. "chris. chris. christopher. i want those sour strips. the ones in the blue bag. if you don't bring them i’m going to cry and it’ll be your fault for ruining the vibe."

(reader does NOT have faceclaim.)

frat!chris and birdie!reader works will be here ⤵︎

how chris and birdie met

18 PLUS ONLY THIS IS VERY EXPLICIT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

he flicked ur clih for 55 hours 55 days