#matthew ask

[fannyyann]

Oh that tiktok of pomo and chucky got me tearing up a bit. Like give their history and all that

oh no i hadn't seen this yet HELLLLPPPP the extended cut is so much worse oh my god that's LOVE baby

[creepycr4wly]

Could you Draw the Doey's three consciences?

You're in luck cause these were in my queue

[outer-andromeda]

Trying to motivate myself to work, and I've... gotten a vision after listening to "Home" by Cavetown again in my car on the way to school this morning

Edit : Writing lore about that situation in the comments? More likely than you'd think oop

[cowardlykrow]

Stop light shenanigans

Extra:

[fencecollapsed]

BillPaul doodles based on this idea <3

they're a little fucked up but it's fine they're gay buddies <3

[bernardsbendystraws]

It’s not unusual for Matt to stream. Typically, you’ll lay on the bed, out of view. You don’t like to be analyzed by his fans watching. It’s a lot of pressure. Matt is more than happy to respect this boundary even though there’s times when he just wants you to sit in his lap.

Tonight is different. He had already bitten his nails down to the nubs. He wants you. You’re scrolling on your phone, carefully keeping yourself out of the camera while you lay on the bed.

“Hold on, chat. I’m gonna put my camera off for a bit, something is glitching.” Matt’s words are followed by the sound of his fingers tapping a couple of keyboard buttons.

Using light steps, he crouches down to you, brushing your hair out of your face before gently placing a kiss on your forehead. “Will you…can you just—just come sit in my lap? Please?” he asks.

Your eyebrows furrow with confusion. Matt is quick to read your worries. “Camera is off, just….I just wanna hold you. Can I? Please, doll?” His question is sweet, overbearing with love. You let yourself nod, stretching out your arms as he picks you up—one of his favorite things to do.

Carrying you over to the chair, he lays you down gently in his lap, wrapping his arms around you to hold the controller.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispers, careful not to be loud enough for the mic to pick up.

You feel his warmth radiate onto you. Every once in a while, he’ll let his lips place a gentle kiss on your neck. He knows better than to shower you with kisses, knowing it would be too loud. But, the gleam in his eyes basically covers in your skin in affection. This is something so quiet—so peaceful. He’s not making you uncomfortable at all. In fact, your body feels like it’s floating.

And it’s all because of him.

[stagtorccio]

teen lottie NSFW alphabet?

i always assume these requests mean pre-crash yall have to specify if you want wilderness or post rescue ... but yes anon

LOTTIE MATTHEWS — NSFW ALPHABET yall already know the rules... template from here! warnings: general kinda crude language, mentions of mania and kleptomania? nothing too insane though

mdni, 18+

A = AFTERCARE (WHAT THEY’RE LIKE AFTER SEX)

deeply emotional. threads her fingers through your hair, tucks close to you. soft murmurs that are usually nonsense pillow-talk, cheek to chest, heart syncing with yours.

loves showering with you after, because she’s got sensory issues and doesn’t like when the good sticky turns to bad sticky… gross!

B = BODY PART (THEIR FAVORITE BODY PART OF THEIRS AND ALSO THEIR PARTNER’S)

on herself, her eyes– loves it if she can just throw you a look and turn you on, loves making eye contact

on you, your thighs– especially wrapped around her waist. but honestly just flash her any skin and she’s trying to drag you to the nearest closet

C = CUM (ANYTHING TO DO WITH CUM, BASICALLY)

total little freak… she’ll smear it across your belly, kiss it off your lips, lick it off her fingers… sometimes she’ll just make it a point to be as messy as possible so you have to help clean her up.

D = DIRTY SECRET (PRETTY SELF EXPLANATORY, A DIRTY SECRET OF THEIRS)

gets off to the idea of being watched, just a little. mirrors, windows, the edge of public places.

sometimes she fingers herself in her walk-in closet imagining someone stumbling in. cums fast as hell. freak.��

E = EXPERIENCE (HOW EXPERIENCED ARE THEY? DO THEY KNOW WHAT THEY’RE DOING?)

more practiced than you’d expect. not in the “tons of partners” way, but she's kinda intuitive. it only takes her a few minutes to get patterns down (and subsequently weaponize them).

F = FAVORITE POSITION (THIS GOES WITHOUT SAYING)

lotus— something about mutual closeness, locked thighs, eye contact, etc etc... likes it when you're tangled up in her lap, likes even more that you have nowhere to go.

G = GOOFY (ARE THEY MORE SERIOUS IN THE MOMENT? ARE THEY HUMOROUS? ETC.)

if she’s like INTO it into it, not very silly. more focused on the task at hand. catch her a few drinks in though? giggling the whoooleee time because she’s having so much fun.

WILL say some absolutely fucknasty shit and then laugh hysterically right after because holy shit I can’t believe I said that. she did in fact say that though and probably meant it

H = HAIR (HOW WELL GROOMED ARE THEY? DOES THE CARPET MATCH THE DRAPES? ETC.)

bare or a neatly trimmed landing strip. keeps it soft because she gets irritated as fuck being itchy (me too, girl).

I = INTIMACY (HOW ARE THEY DURING THE MOMENT? THE ROMANTIC ASPECT)

super intensely intimate. eye contact so deep you feel like she’s trying to soul-suck you. touches like she wants to merge bodies. she wants you to see her and understand her and vice versa.

J = JACK OFF (MASTURBATION HEADCANON)

does it rarely. slowly and trying to enjoy it on good nights, quick and just trying to cum on bad ones

very visual, often picturing the same person over and over again, sometimes imagining she’s not alone in the room or that it’s someone else’s hand instead of her own. it helps to distract from less pleasant thoughts

K = KINK (ONE OR MORE OF THEIR KINKS)

control and power play — loves taking the reins, coaxing surrender. it helps her to feel in control of something. vice versa, she sometimes wants to be the one giving up control so that she doesn’t have to think so hard about everything. sort of like cleaning the slate. factory reset if you will

sensory play — blindfolds, silk restraints, dripping wax… sign her right the fuck up

praise — sad lonely girl who likes when you talk sweet to her. fork found in kitchen. unsurprising. but also specifically saying you’re proud is what does the charm because you know this mf needs validation like plants need water… she will implode

L = LOCATION (FAVORITE PLACES TO DO THE DO)

anywhere that feels aesthetic. she’s got a Thing for aesthetics. forest clearing, the floor of her father’s study with incense burning, bed lit by moonlight slashing through stained glass. wants to make it cinematic (like that one sex scene in mulholland drive, rip Lottie you would’ve loved naked in manhattan)

M = MOTIVATION (WHAT TURNS THEM ON, GETS THEM GOING)

vulnerability. seeing you open up, confess a secret, (and, embarrassingly enough, cry in front of her). it’s her blossoming cult leader instincts kicking in sorry. 

also, unspoken glances across crowded rooms… she will literally drag you to a closet by the back of your shirt like a kitten

N = NO (SOMETHING THEY WOULDN’T DO, TURN OFFS)

anything detached or performative. hate sex? casual hookups with no emotion? not her thing. 

definitely craves connection and using sex to get in someone’s head– not maliciously, just to understand them deeper than she already does

O = ORAL (PREFERENCE IN GIVING OR RECEIVING, SKILL, ETC.)

giving, reverent with it. adores eating someone out slowly, eyes on your face the whole time, dragging her tongue and tasting everything. 

receiving? rides the actual fuck out of your face, like literally almost suffocates you a little. doesn’t pull your hair but does push your head down until you have to tap out to catch your breath. good luck soldier.

P = PACE (ARE THEY FAST AND ROUGH? SLOW AND SENSUAL? ETC.)

usually slow and sensual. wants to enjoy it and make it last. but when she’s manic or spiraling, she fucks like she’s exorcising literal demons. maybe she is. who knows.

Q = QUICKIE (THEIR OPINIONS ON QUICKIES, HOW OFTEN, ETC.)

will do them, but only if the tension was already there first or it’s a “public” place—bathroom stalls at school, back of a parked car before a party. she finds it more exciting when there’s the chance of getting caught.

R = RISK (ARE THEY GAME TO EXPERIMENT? DO THEY TAKE RISKS? ETC.)

risky. gets off on risk. being forced into a perfect little bubble your entire life has its side effects. nerves heighten everything else and she likes it that way

S = STAMINA (HOW MANY ROUNDS CAN THEY GO FOR? HOW LONG DO THEY LAST?)

two or three rounds MINIMUM, especially if she’s feeling manic. will go until you're limp and breathless then ask if you can go one more… good luck babe

T = TOYS (DO THEY OWN TOYS? DO THEY USE THEM? ON A PARTNER OR THEMSELVES?)

yes, but like, classy about it? keeps a little box under her bed– vibrators, a harness, glass dildos…

uses them more on partners than herself, and also just likes collecting them because she’s a kleptomaniac

U = UNFAIR (HOW MUCH THEY LIKE TO TEASE)

when she feels like it. will absolutely edge you until you’re begging, kiss just below where you need her, keep eye contact while she denies you over and over and over…

and does it all while smiling, telling you how good you’re doing. fuck dude

V = VOLUME (HOW LOUD THEY ARE, WHAT SOUNDS THEY MAKE, ETC.)

whispers, whimpers, ecstatic chanting of different phrases if she’s deep into it. moans are drawn-out and trembling. will stutter out that she loves you while taking three whole fingers, she may be a freak but she isn’t a neglectful one

also the louder you get, the more it turns her on… she loves hearing you lose your composure

W = WILD CARD (A RANDOM HEADCANON FOR THE CHARACTER)

has a small collection of polaroids of herself. you know exactly what type of polaroid. 

X = X-RAY (LET’S SEE WHAT’S GOING ON UNDER THOSE CLOTHES)

slender, subtle curves, surprisingly toned legs, BICEPS.

also sometimes doesn’t wear panties because she likes the freedom

Y = YEARNING (HOW HIGH IS THEIR SEX DRIVE?)

pretends it’s manageable but aches constantly. daydreams in class, zones out while brushing her hair. quiet about it but that doesn’t mean it isn’t noticeable

Z = ZZZ (HOW QUICKLY THEY FALL ASLEEP AFTERWARDS)

falls asleep quickly after because her mind is finally quiet for once 

insists on being big spoon because she likes holding onto you. and she has to have at least one hand under your clothes for that skin to skin, obviously 

if you get up in the middle of the night, she pulls you back. you don’t get out of bed until she does, rip you if you have to go to the bathroom

[ronanlynchusurper]

i don’t think we talk enough about declan being equally as down bad and ‘all or nothing’ with romance as ronan is. like yes ronan said he would start wars and burn cities for adam’s true smile, begged god for adam after he first saw him and fortuitously had all his objects of worship were in one downtown block etc but ronan had known adam atleast 18 months at this stage. whereas declan really risked it all to get tyrian purple overnight for a first date gift after ONE conversation…the man was discussing their marriage as a ‘when’ not an ‘if’ before we even saw them kiss like what’s his excuse lmaoo

[littlegirlinvisible]

So what was the fucking point in all this then?

AEGON S1EP09: Let me go! I have no wish to rule! No taste for duty! I'm not suited.

[ghosted-jazz]

Just saw your comic and it was funny AF! What MCR song would be their favourite?

(also, don't mind voice dubs of your art?)

They would LOVEEE 'Teenagers' but I think 'Sleep' fits Doey too well to not at least mention.

(also YES!! ANY DUBS OF MY ART IS VERY VERY WELCOMED! PLEASE TAG ME IF YOU DO!)

[goofygubegubler]

hi hi

reader gets period during sex (yes i know im a freak 🥲) and is very embarrassed but spencer is super sweet and cute… 😔

𝑯����𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒖𝒖𝒖 (𝑺.𝑹)

wc: 1.2k | F!Reader (Established Relationship) | cw: Period Sex, Blood Mentions, Bodily Fluids, Explicit Sexual Content, Embarrassment/Shame (Resolved), Tender Aftercare, Bath Scene, Late-Season Spencer Reid Softness.

Spencer had been giving you exactly what you needed—those sharp, deep thrusts laced with the confidence and precision that only experience could bring. He moaned low in his throat, the sound rumbling against your skin as he leaned over you, holding one of your legs high against his chest to open you up just right. That angle. God, that angle. Your vision blurred at the edges, your thoughts flickering into static, your skull knocking lightly against the headboard with each powerful stroke.

"Spence," you whimpered, voice cracking with need. He was so deep you could barely think. So deep it felt like your bones had liquefied. You clenched around him involuntarily, and he gasped against your throat.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, lips dragging along your jaw. "Feels like you’re made for me."

You could only nod, trembling, nails digging into his back. Your body burned, a slow spiral of heat in your belly. His hips snapped forward again, and the pressure inside you swelled—

—and then he froze.

His brow furrowed. Not in discomfort. In concern.

"Wait—hold on," he whispered, voice tender now. He slowed his thrusts and eased back slightly, and your stomach plummeted at the change in his expression.

"What?" you asked, breathless. You tried to hide the panic in your voice, but your gut already twisted with embarrassment.

Spencer sat back on his heels, still inside you but gentle now. He looked down—

—and you saw it too. Red. A smear of it across your thighs. On him. On the sheets beneath you.

Your heart seized. You bolted upright with a strangled gasp, pulling the sheet around yourself like it could rewind the moment.

"Oh my God," you choked, horror flooding your system. "Oh my God, Spencer, I—I didn’t know, I didn’t feel—"

"Hey. Hey," he interrupted quickly, reaching for you with those steady hands, the same ones that had just been gripping you like lifelines. "Look at me."

You didn’t want to. You kept your face buried in your hands, burning with shame, but he wouldn’t let you disapp, notNot like this.

"Look at me, sweetheart. Please."

You finally glanced up through your fingers, and what you found in his eyes wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t revulsion. It was softness. Concern. Love.

"It’s okay," he said quietly, brushing your hair from your face. "You didn’t do anything wrong."

You tried to speak, but your throat locked. All you could do was shake your head, whispering, "I’m so sorry. That’s so gross—"

"Stop," he said, gently but firmly. "Don’t say that. It’s not gross. It’s just... your body. It’s natural. It happens. Actually—statistically—about 30% of people with periods have reported unexpected onset during intercourse due to a variety of physiological triggers."

You blinked, stunned into silence as he adjusted the sheet around your waist with the same care he used handling case files and fragile crime scene evidence. "Also, menstrual blood isn't harmful in any way. It’s composed of roughly 50% blood and 50% other natural bodily components, like cervical mucus and uterine tissue."

"Spencer," you said weakly, but there was a smile threatening the corners of your mouth now. "Are you... giving me a period TED Talk right now?"

He shrugged, a bashful grin touching his lips. "I have three PhDs. One of them includes human physiology. It's hard to turn it off."

You snorted, the embarrassment slowly starting to burn off into something else. Relief. Affection. Love.

And he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your shoulder, and whispered, "But we can stop if you're uncomfortable. Or..."

You looked at him, your heartbeat steadying. His eyes were still so full of want—tempered now with care.

"I want you to keep going," you whispered. "If you're okay with it."

He kissed your shoulder again, lower this time. Slower. More reverent.

"I'm more than okay with it," he murmured against your skin. "Let me make you feel good again."

And when he eased you back against the pillows and touched you like you were precious—still precious—every ounce of self-consciousness bled away.

He moved with care now, slow and deep, every thrust more of a caress than a claim. His hand held your cheek like he was grounding you, his mouth whispering soft nothings between kisses—your name, his name, stars, science, everything blurring together.

"You know, during arousal, the cervix actually elevates, which—" He groaned when you clenched around him, interrupting his own monologue with a breathless laugh. "Okay. Okay. No more stats right now. Just—God, you feel incredible."

You were trembling again, this time not from embarrassment but from how deeply he adored you. His lips found yours, and you melted into him, rocking together in that slow, aching rhythm that said this wasn't just about sex—it was about trust. About knowing you'd shown him a vulnerable part of you, and he had only drawn you closer.

You came with his name on your tongue, gasping into his shoulder, his arms wrapped around you like he wanted to shield you from the world. And he followed seconds later, groaning low, pressing deep before stilling, resting his forehead against yours.

Neither of you moved for a long moment. Just the soft sound of breathing, your heartbeat in your ears.

Eventually, he slipped out gently, kissed your knee, and murmured something soft against your skin. Then he was gone, padding quietly into the bathroom. You heard water running—first the faucet, then the tub.

A moment later, he returned with a warm, damp towel and knelt between your legs. His touch was gentle, reverent, as he cleaned you up, murmuring little apologies even though there was nothing to apologize for. You watched him, heart aching with something deep and fragile.

Then, with that same calm tenderness, he cleaned himself, tugged on a pair of boxers, and reached for your hand.

"Come on," he whispered. "I ran you a bath. Let’s get you comfortable."

The bathroom was filled with soft steam, the tub nearly full. He helped you in with both hands, steadying you like you were something sacred. The warm water enveloped you, and your muscles sighed with relief.

He brushed your hair back, tucked it behind your ears, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I’ll be right back," he said gently. "I’m just going to strip the bed, rinse the sheets, see if the stain will come out. Shouldn’t be too bad if I get to it quickly—oxidization is the real enemy with blood, you know."

You gave a small laugh through your exhaustion. Of course, Spencer Reid would think of everything.

But as he turned to go, you reached for his wrist with water-slick fingers.

"Spence," you mumbled, head tilted back against the porcelain. "Fuck the damn sheets. We can buy new ones. Just... get in with me. Please."

He blinked, halfway to the door, caught off guard by your voice—so soft and tired and raw. His shoulders relaxed, and a crooked smile tugged at his lips.

"Yeah?" he asked, toeing off his boxers again.

"Yeah," you breathed, watching the steam curl around his silhouette.

Spencer stepped into the tub behind you, easing down with a quiet groan of comfort. The water shifted, rising around your bodies, and then his arms were around you, tugging you back against his chest.

You exhaled, sinking into him completely.

"This okay?" he asked, lips brushing your temple.

"Perfect," you whispered.

He kissed your damp shoulder, then rested his chin in the crook of your neck. "Sheets can wait. Holding you can’t."

[fannyyann]

omg someone took a selfie with matthew on a delta flight and he’s soooooo blonde

facebook.com/groups/1375690826003863/permalink/3614058552167068/

It’s that summer sun effect 😌😌

also thank you @rattkachuk for pointing out this very important comment

That’s like 100 bottles of hot sauce 😭😭😭😭

[nickssidewitch]

Headcannons of the triplets during missionary pretty please🫠💕

🤭❤️ The Sturniolo Triplets During Missionary Headcanons (Based on Tarot Readings) 🥺🔥

gifs by @vxnitra 🤍

🦕 Matt 🌀

One thing about Matt and missionary? They both start with M.

But more importantly, it’s one of his favorites to make you completely hypnotized with pleasure.

He is methodical in his movements, studying your face for any signs of pleasure, as well as discomfort if that ever arises.

If he hits a certain spot that makes the most heavenly sound slip between your parted lips, he’ll continue to hit the spot, only deliberately moving away from it when he wants to find a new spot or when he wants to change positions.

The tip of him hits your best areas in the most delicious ways, always sliding against it with the best amount of pressure and grace, the perpetual motions of his hips maintaining the same rhythms in order to keep that beautiful look of ecstasy painted across your face. Your eyes are rolled back or shut tight, small tears on the corners of which he knows aren’t of pain, your lips parted with small breaths and whimpers and moans escaping them.

He’ll hold your legs by your calves as anchors, sometimes putting them over his shoulders when he wants to hit an especially deep spot. He loves to watch your back arch and hands grip whatever surface is closest to them as he continues to fuck into you.

He’ll touch you all over, his hands wisping along your chest, to your sides. His hands may even find their way back to your neck, one of them wrapping around it and pressing into the pulsing jugular veins to give you a choking sensation that you may love.

Sometimes, particularly when you’re especially needy, he wants to take care of his girl. And that translates to his body cascading onto yours and trapping your body in order for you to endure more quickened strokes.

And this is where the knot in your stomach starts to tighten. Matt’s hitting that spot at the right velocity that makes your warmth ooze that beautiful creamy substance that coats his dick, making the glide easier for him and the moment more pleasurable for the both of you.

You’re tightening around him, and you feel his breath puff against your skin as he looks down at you at such a close, almost dangerous, proximity. Dangerous, in that if you ever opened your eyes at this moment, you’d immediately unravel underneath him.

And speak of the devil, it happens. Your eyes bat open at the sound of his voice coaxing the eye contact out of you. “Look at me. Come on, look at me, sweetheart,” is whispered from his lips. He wants to view you— all of you— right before that moment overtakes the both of you.

And once your eyes open, he reaches his hand down between the two of you one last time, rubbing circles into the nervous bud above your labia, wanting to see your face screw up with pleasure as you get even closer… and tighter… and closer… and—

You clamp down onto him with the perfect amount of pressure for him to stroke a couple more times, and finally, he releases. Whether it’s inside of you, or on your precious tummy below your sweaty, heaving chest, it’s all worth it in the end.

He’ll let you catch his breath as he does before helping you up, walking you over to the bathroom to clean up and replenish the energy you both transferred between each other in that moment.

💟 Nick 🍥

Missionary, if he’s the bottom, can be the most needy and whimpering state of Nick that you could ever witness. His eyes would look at you with the most desire as he waits for you to please him.

He’ll hold his legs open and his hips up for you, presenting his awaiting orifice to be filled by your love.

You’d get him ready for you though, taunting and teasing the tip of your cock around and against his rim, maybe even using your fingers to open him up even more for your insertion if you hadn’t done do already. He’d whimper and pulsate around you, the tip of his dick leaking with anticipation to feel all of you.

Then you’d slowly start to press yourself into him, his hands gripping his own thighs as he feels the length taunt his walls. His head would be thrown back and eyes shut with a beautiful combination of pleasure and pressure, his teeth biting his bottom lip as he whimpers and moans softly.

Then he’d look at you, either because you whispered a command or just because of his own will, and his eyes stay on yours. Eye contact doesn’t cease as you start to move— just the little force he used to crane his neck up to look into your eyes and/or watch you dip in and out of his hole.

His moans will get louder and a bit higher in pitch, often complimenting how raw you feel or how deep your cock is inside of him. The grip he has on his own thighs will tighten as you thrust deeper and harder, his head throwing back against whatever surface he’s on. He’d feel the blood rush through every vein of your cock, which would get his stomach stirring with ecstasy.

Once you see his dick start to twitch, you know he’s close. Some precum will start to spray out of the tip, covering his stomach as he starts to jerk himself off.

If you’re in a dominant mood, you’ll swat his hand away from his needy dick and stroke at it yourself, focusing on the inch right below his tip to get him really going. You’d spit on his cock, and your saliva would mix with his precum to make the best mixture of lubricant, which you’d use to tug, and tug, and tug, until—

He moans especially loudly and his hips buck upwards causing his orgasm to squirt up into the air and land onto his stomach and your hand. You’d praise him, and he’d whimper in response, his asshole gripping around your cock as if it sensed that your semen would start to fill him up too.

Once you’re finished unloading, you’ll slowly pull out, watching as Nick’s hole gapes and shows the aftermath of your cum inside of him. It would be a beautiful sight, one you and him definitely hope to recreate soon.

He’d probably ask you to clean him up and you’d get to work, using your tongue to clean up the excess cum running down onto the surface he’s on top of.

If Nick is the top in this dynamic, however, it could get nasty. He’ll tell you to lift your hips and hold yourself open for him, your hole pulsating with need as you wait for him to push himself in. He’d inform you to spread yourself open for him even more, asserting the dominance you’d been longing for all day.

He’d make sure to angle himself properly for you as he squirts the lube onto your hole and some on your cock. His hands would jerk you off a bit before he’d inform you to take his place, since his attention is now a bit lower as he focused on thrusting into you.

You feel it, the pressure as he slowly slides into you. It’s a warm fill, and now you can understand why he instructed you hold yourself open for him— the stretch. Yes, it is that stretch that Nick loves and that you love just the same, the one that really gets those drawled out moans from the two of you.

Nick will put his hand on his hip as he fixes his posture and positioning, really trying to find the best and most comfortable way to draw out the pleasure for the both of you. His eyes are narrowed as he focuses, and he might let out a chuckle if he’s taking too long on purpose.

Finally, the brunette starts to move , his thrusts steady, yet impactful enough for your cock to jump with every force. He tells you to jerk yourself off some more if he notices that you’d stopped, and the look on your face as you twist it in pleasure has him yearning for more.

He’ll continue his thrusts, his hands gripping your hips tightly as your legs move onto his shoulders, making sure that this angle hits your prostate with every stroke.

He’ll notice your tip start to leak with precum, maybe even a little pee, as he thrusts so deep that your prostate starts to hit against your bladder. He’ll use this as motivation to move faster, angling his body to hit against your prostate more, praising and cooing at you every time you cry out with pleasure or try to stop yourself from leaking. “Shh, it’s okay. It means I’m doing my job.” “You’re doing so well for me.”

“Take notes,” if he’s feeling a little cocky, but also if he plans on switching places with you for another round. He knows that if he acts cocky now, it’ll get you to take all of your frustrations out on him when it’s your turn to fuck.

Then he’ll start to twitch inside of you once he feels the slick of your ass make the glide of his cock easier. He’ll wait for you to cum first, his hand swatting yours away to jerk you off frantically, his thumb rubbing the tip around your seeping hole, encouraging its release.

Once he notices your start to cum, he cums as well, filling you up as he staggers his movements and finally buries himself as far as he can into you. His hands are gripping your hips tightly as you tremble underneath and around him, and he leans down to kiss you passionately and sloppily.

Once he pulls out of you, he holds your ass open to watch his cum drip out of you, maybe your hole is pulsating enough to spurt some out. The queefing sound makes you both chuckle.

He’ll lean down to kiss your heaving chest and cum-stained stomach, scooping up some of your warmth with his tongue as his eyes stay on yours.

✴️ Chris 🥭

You’re gonna feel every damn skin cell when he presses into you. Every inch, every indentation, every pulse of blood coursing through his veins, will all be felt as slowly creeps inside of you. And he makes sure of it, sometimes even asking you, “You feel all of that?”, and reminding you, “That’s all yours.”

His movements will be slow, intricate, and above all, fulfilling every inch of your chasm. He’ll watch as he goes deeper, and deeper, and deeper, loving the way your lips part and take all of him (or at least attempt to).

Once he’s buried inside of you, he’ll stay there for a few moments to get himself situated mentally just as much as physically. He’ll take a couple of breaths, looking at where you’re both connected, then up at your chest to watch the way it heaves up and down, then up to your face to see the way it construes as he starts to move.

He’ll take a moment to dig himself as deep as possible, using that opportunity to roll his hips in a circle and grind his pelvis into your clit. Luckily for you, he didn’t shave, so you’ll feel his coarse pubic hair brushing against you, the new form of friction adding onto the pleasure. You’ll release a long, low moan in response— what makes him give you a cheeky grin— before he starts his movements again, long strokes in and out.

His eyes would latch onto yours, eyebrows furrowed and teeth gritted, as he focuses on giving you what you need. If you’re trying to push him away or creep your body away from him due to all of the sensations, he’ll pin your arms down, making you take it even more. “Don’t run.” “What’re you pushing me away for?” “Where you goin’?” “Take this dick.”

He will start to speed up as he feels your body tighten around him— Not just between your legs, but also the way your nails dig into his skin, the way your feet cross around his lower back and pull him deeper, the way your head presses into the crook of his neck as your whimpers reverberate against his skin. It’s all he needs to quicken his movements.

You’ll feel his arms tense as he gets closer to the edge, and his eyes will remain on yours, narrowed with determination as he fucks into you more quickly. He’ll either anchor himself at an angle that makes you cry out or scream the most, or he’ll lay his body against yours, pumping himself repeatedly in and out of you.

A delicious sound of yourself squelching with every thrust could probably be heard throughout the whole house as he continues at the same pace. Your juices would be pushed out of you every time he strokes inwards, and the symphony of that alongside your pretty moans would be the last thing make him fall apart.

He’d hold your shaking legs in his arms as he grips into your skin, his own orgasm coming at full force as he fills you up. His last few strokes are sloppy and beautifully disgusting, his and your orgasms pooling out of you and dripping onto whatever surface is closest. He’d straighten his body to look down and watch the pool of mess form, chuckling and smirking as his chest heaves.

When he finally pulls out of you, he’ll spread your pussy with his fingers, watching the hole convulse as your concoction of arousal drips out. He might even use his finger to push some back inside if he’s feeling the need to “make it stick”, but that’s only when the time comes and he’s ready for the risk of a pregnancy.

If he doesn’t release inside of you, he’s pulling out of you and choosing one of many options. One is that he decides to cum onto your belly. Another is to use the rest of his energy left to flip you onto your stomach, give your ass one or two spanks before ejaculating onto your cheeks. Maybe he’ll choose a third option, pulling you by your legs to bring your body closer to him, adjusting you so that he could cum in your mouth or on your face. Just thinking about the way your pretty, fucked-out eyes would look up at him always persuades him to choose that last option.

[outer-andromeda]

So first question! Can doey actually taste anything?

Gonna take this ask as an opportunity to answer all of these all at once :00 @tallahatchet @sadowmaster (sorry for the tag sjshsjh-)

Yes, Doey CAN taste things. Though I'd assume after years of consuming just uh... meat... That tasting must be kind of dull for him. So when he has the chance to eat anything other than that, it's a whole new world opening up to him. Taste buds explosion kind of situation, you know?

Besides, Matthew knew of the food outside of Playcare (whatever it was that they served there), and Jack lived with it, so the adaptation time of tasting "new" things doesn't take Doey long... But Kevin??? My poor boy's only ever known the food in the orphanage. I think he'd be very emotional about their discoveries.

As for favorite foods, Doey's would be the three boys favorites. Which are as follows for Matthew, Jack and Kevin (in order):

(+ bonus doodle under the cut because I couldn't resist making a silly one)

POV : Doey (re)discovers the tastes of the outside world.

[nat111love]

MY FAULT: LONDON (2025)

[palmerzy]

Hi, I loved your recent Spencer Reid blurb, I was wondering if you would do another nsfw blurb with sub Spence and maybe some Somno?? Like he can’t help himself when he’s so tired and he barely realises what he’s doing? 🫶🫶

hey anon, thanks for requesting! i wasn’t totally sure if you meant reader to spencer or spencer to reader, so i went for the latter - i hope that’s okay! if that’s not what you meant, feel free to send another ask and i’ll appease that <3 for now, please enjoy!

NSFW! - explicit sexual themes, incl. somnophilia. read at your own discretion.

spencer would be coming home late from a case, and he’s just desperate to spend some time with you - to spend some time inside of you.

his face falls when he pushes open the door to his bedroom, seeing your sleeping form already knocked out on his bed, and he internally chides himself for staying behind at the bau longer than he should have. now, his girlfriend is passed out, and he’s sporting a hard on - the taunting punishment for daydreaming on his journey home.

as a responsible man, somewhat, he grumbles to himself but gets ready for bed nonetheless, pouting at the thought of having to go to sleep without being able to share the night with you, knowing it’s his own fault.

he’d climb into bed beside you, narrowing his eyes at the sight of you in just your panties and one of his button ups, like you’re literally messing with him in your sleep. a defeated sigh passes his lips, and he snuggles up against you, his chest against your back as he wills sleep to take him before his thoughts wander too far.

of course, sleep doesn’t take him. not when he can feel you shifting in your unconscious state, your ass pressing just perfectly against his hard-on, something you’re blissfully unaware of. he tells himself he can’t wake you up, not for an issue as small as his petulant neediness.

and yet, spencer recalls a conversation in which you’d told him you wouldn’t mind being woken up with his head between your thighs, or with the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance. well - you’d said it a lot more innocent than that, but he knew the implications. he knows what you’d meant, and he finds himself questioning his morals with how he’s considering it.

in his mind, he draws it up to him simply being tired and needy. he’s been at work all day, barely able to talk to you, and then he comes home to find you asleep. he can’t help feeling a little down, a little pouty, and a little bit guilty as he reaches down between your bodies to pull your panties aside.

he waits for a reaction, and even when he gets none, he perseveres. a finger dips beneath your folds, testing the waters, and his slightly drowsy mind is elated to find you just about wet enough for him. you’ve been wetter, sure, but he knows you’re sleeping, your body isn’t anticipating him. that’s what you wanted, right? to be woken up by him? he’s just providing his partner with what they’d wanted. he’s a good boyfriend.

his mind is a blur when he tugs his pyjama pants down and pushes forward, eyes rolling back when he sinks into your warmth, your body involuntarily clenching around him.

with furrowed brows, he studies your body, waiting for you to stir awake. he’s silently begging for you to wake up so he can continue, so he can have his fill of you and then the both of you can get some sleep.

when you don’t, he stills, keeping himself sheathed within you. he’s at war with his mind, debating on whether or not to keep going. he knows he’s not in his right mind, not with how tired he is after a long days work. he should pull out and just go take care of himself.

but he doesn’t, and it’s not long before he’s slowly thrusting up into you, biting down on his bottom lip to muffle his whines. he’s not a massive fan of taking you from behind, he likes to see your face, but he has no choice here - spooning you as he gently grasps your hip, his cock half submerged into your unknowing body.

he continues like that for at least a minute, muffled gasps and whimpers passing his pursed lips as he shallowly dips into you over and over, refusing to come from his invasion. he wants you to wake up, he really does, yet he can’t deny how good it feels to be able to satisfy himself with your body like this, and he finds his guilt rising more with each second.

when you finally awaken, his face lights up, his cock stilling and feeling your pussy clench around him, as if pulling him further in. “spence?” you’d mumble ever so quietly, and he swears he could’ve come just from the sound. he’d nod slowly, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder, whispering sweet apologies. “‘m so sorry,” “couldn’t help myself, i tried- mmph, i really tried,” “is this okay? please tell me it’s okay,” he’d whimper over and over, until you were nodding, telling him you were going back to sleep and allowing you to find his own pleasure, finally pressing his cock as deep as he’d originally wanted to, guilt washed away.

askbox open, come talk to me about spence <3