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ifwdominicfike · 9 minutes ago

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porn star!chris you will ALWAYS be famous

꒰ STURNIOZ KINKMAS '24 ꒱ !

fan!reader finally gets her one on one time with pornstar!chris.

"are you ready?" chris asks you softly, his hand rubbing comforting massages on your shoulder as you nod your head nervously, a giddy smile spreading across your lips which chris chuckles at. "hey, don't be nervous.. pretend like the camera isn't even there."

"i don't know if i can do that." you admit as your eyes glance towards the camera that's set up beside the bed, ready to film you both.

you're not sure what made you agree to film with him for his next post—you were texting back and forth for a few weeks, sending lewd messages and photos of yourself in your prettiest underwear before he popped the question, asking if you wanted to be in his next video.

you think maybe it was the post-orgasm bliss that made you feel so confident enough to agree, but now, being faced to face with him, seeing his set up, the reality started to sink in on what you're doing, and despite you being a little excited... you were also shitting your pants.

"we don't have to do this y'know?" chris breaks it to you, giving you a reassuring smile that already has you swooning. "m'not gonna be pissed if you decide to back out now—you can even sit behind the camera 'n watch me if you want."

even though his offer of watching him sounds really tempting, you want this. you want this so badly that you've been non-stop thinking and dreaming about it — what it would feel like to have his body pressed against yours and his cock that you've seen so many times on your phone screen making you cum.

"i want to do this."

"yeah?" he presses once more, and you nod your head to assure him that you're all for this even if you are a little bit nervous. chris nods his head along with you, giving you another smile before leading you toward his bed. "get undressed f'me. all off."

one moment you're standing at the edge of the bed taking your clothes off, the next you're on it with chris' body over yours, his lips greedily attached to your own as he kisses you, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands slide down to your ass to squeeze the plump flesh, grinding his cock against your wet folds.

you're moaning and it's a little pathetic considering all he's doing at the moment is kissing and groping you. but it feels so good — too good to the point you're thinking you're dreaming, that this is all in your mind and you aren't truly here.

but the nibble chris gives your bottom lip, and tugging at it before pushing his tongue back into your mouth brings you back to reality, lacing your fingers through his messy hair as he tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss.

"need... need you inside me," you whisper against his lips as you briefly pull back, blinking up at him so prettily and needy. "need to feel it. want you to.. to fill me up, like you said on those texts."

"want me to fill this pretty pussy up?" chris murmurs as he leans up on his knees, making a show for the camera as his fingers move between your thighs, spreading your folds apart to show your weeping hole. "look at you.. so fuckin' gorgeous."

you make eye contact with the camera as chris slowly pushes himself inside, and you let out a sharp gasp, trying to adjust to the sheer size of him as your inner walls clench.

"shit—shit. oh my god—" you babble, panicking a little. "you—mmph—you're so big. i-i don't know if i can ta-take it."

"shh, s'okay, s'alright... you're good," chris whispers softly as he leans down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss as he pauses his movements, allowing you a moment to adjust as he murmurs against your lips. "just relax.. we'll go slow, yeah? let your sweet lil' pussy get used to my cock."

you whimper softly, your hips twitching as your gummy walls flutter around him, a burning ache between your thighs and inside your cunt causing you to wiggle to get comfortably, and chris gently strokes your cheeks.

"you're doin' so well." chris praises you, pressing his lips to your warm cheeks as he carefully begins to move, rocking his hips in shallow thrusts as he continues to mutter sweet words and leave gentle kisses across your jawline and neck. "takin' my cock like such a good girl."

your breathing grows heavier, starting to respond to the slow pace as you meet his thrusts, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper with a mewl of his name, vision slightly blurry as you stare at the camera that's recording you both, making you tense up a little.

"don't look at it," chris says quietly, gently coaxing your face away with his hand. "s'not there, remember? just me 'n you."

you nod your head quickly, your moans muffled by his lips when he kisses you again, rocking harder against you as he picks up the pace, panting against your mouth as he feels your cunt squeeze around him.

you weakly roll your hips up in circular motions, grinding against him to provide extra stimulation for your clit, all sounds consumed by his lips that continue to move greedily on yours.

however, you pull away from him to catch your breath when he moves faster, plunging into your pussy, his balls smacking against your skin with his hand gripping your jaw, gently pushing your head back to bite and suckle at your neck.

you inner walls ripple and quiver around his cock, getting lost in the feeling of his cock gliding in and out of your walls, and the sounds of his grunts and groans in your neck.

his mouth finds yours once again when his hips work harder, rutting you against the bed, your heart pounding wildly in your ears as you feel the knot in your tummy tighten.

"can feel it, sweetheart," his murmurs between kisses, his lips curling into a grin. "you gonna cum?"

the unusual sound that leaves you as you unexpectedly cum is something primal—a mix between a throaty moan and a whine that only gets noisier as chris works you through your orgasm, his mouth relentless against yours before he suddenly stills, his cock throbbing inside of you as he coats your insides with his own cum.

you cling to him tightly, lungs begging for oxygen as you pull away from his lips, panting desperately while chris rolls his hips, milking out the remains of his orgasm before letting out a deep exhale once he's finished.

he gently pulls away from you to lean up on his knees, looking down as he watches himself pull out of your opening, his cum dripping onto his sheets. you peer up at him with curiosity as he reaches over to grab his camera, his eyes flitting to yours for permission and you nod your head.

chris brings the camera to the mess between your legs, carefully parting your folds for a closer look at the mess before grinning, moving the camera up to his face—but he pauses, humming as he looks at you.

"kiss the camera," he murmurs to you, tapping against the lens as he brings it to your lips. "right here, sweetheart."

#averys recs ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𐙚 #i need him bad

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ifwdominicfike · 1 hour ago

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RAHHHH OHMYGOD.

introducting…pornstar!matt and camgirl!reader.

contains: suggestive content (no smut.)

note: i wrote this last night half asleep. it’s lwk ass.

matt smirked as he scrolled through your page. you had the been the talk in the industry lately, having had an overnight success.

he couldn’t lie, you were fucking great. wearing a different piece of delicate fabric on every live stream. sweet talking your way into getting your viewers to send more money. his favorite part? watching you on the verge of tears as you played with yourself. his cock twitched every time you let out desperate sounds. he was hooked onto you.

after watching tonight’s live, he clicked on your page wanting to hit the follow button— pausing when he read the tiny box next to your username.

‘follows you’ of course you do. who wouldn’t? he was just that good.

following you back he bit his lip, would hitting you up be too much? nah, fuck that, since when did he care? he’s matt sturniolo, any chick would die if he had sent them a direct message.

he smirked, shaking his head. he was gonna have a great time getting to know you—and your body. that’s for sure.

#averys recs ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𐙚

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ifwdominicfike · 1 hour ago

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I NEED HIM SO BAD .

i will hide this clip in my pussy for safe keeping

#ave reblogs ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊#im soaked

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ifwdominicfike · 3 hours ago

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OH MY GOD .

The visionary, the willing executor,

Spencer Reid x afab!UNSUB!reader (written with mid!seasons Spencer Reid in mind)

SMUT!! copious amounts of angst (there’s traces of fluff in there as well if u get out ur magnifying glass)

BASED ON THIS SONG (it got so stuck in my head that I had to write something that correlated):

──── autistic spencer (it’s not explored that much, but it’s always gonna be present in my oneshots), evil evil reader (im not being dramatic this time. she’s literally a serial killer. like her ‘body count’ is copious. but idk, she’s kinda sweet. if u squint and ignore the bodies). They were in love ur honour !!! they’re still in love ur honour !!!! She pays him a visit two years after he found out about her homicidal tendencies (they miss each other, Spencer might also hate her a little but it’s okay, don’t worry about that).

Warnings: sub spencer (aaaaaaalways), maybe perhaps some vague, very faint mentions of switch!spencer but idk i blacked out writing this, choking, mentions of death and general behaviour that would get you a life sentence, praise more than degradation surprisingly, coming untouched, crying (you’d think that was a kink or something?), she fucks the good out of him, hopeful ending (eh, kinda), mentions of dante’s inferno, copious amounts of religious imagery, greek mythology references, this isn’t dead dove at all i promise.

w.c: 5k

a/n: everything i write has been so angsty recently. i’m working on something softer for my next upload i swear (alongside the requests, I promise, they’re being written im just a die-hard perfectionist). aaaaanyway, happy (belated) halloween!! It’s Spencer’s favourite season so i thought i’d write him getting destroyed by a serial killer (god when is it my turn????)

────────────

Spencer would consider himself a good person, by default. It’s reasonable: a renowned member of the BAU, with intellect he’s weaponized for morality. The blood etched onto his hands is justified. Necessary evil for greater cause. He’s willing to blemish his skin for the virtue, for the lives of others.

He remembers naivety. He remembers being so fragile he could easily crack into fragmented pieces of wasted innocence. Maybe that’s been stolen from him now, maybe the ruins of his sacrifices are too sharp to touch upon still, but he’s good. He knows he will always be good.

And yet, there’s a bruise. Something ugly and distorted that stains his skin. Something that has the ability to crawl deep into his bones and leave behind a mess of pain. Something bad. Festering and tainted, it haunts him with every breath.

You.

You, who came into his life as an abundance of sunlight. Helios personified. Pretty and warm, and everything he needed. He wanted to kiss you: the moment he stumbled into the coffee shop, tousled hair, overworked and raw from a burdening case. When you took his order, marking constellations onto the styrofoam cup. Andromeda, Ursa Major, Cassiopeia. Later, much later, then when you became an indomitable presence to his apartment.

But for all the good he’s preserved, Spencer knows he’s not allowed to receive it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” is the first thing he says when he finds you waiting for him. He always knew you would come back; you’re bound to follow him indefinitely. Like his shadow, his guilty consciousness, his cracked past of addiction and pre-pubescent torment.

He let you go. When the act was over, the curtain drawn, when he saw you. Homicidal, the perpetrator of the case he was working on, malevolence packed into the frame of perfection, oh even still, he let you go. Free to continue the cycle of death, he was left to scramble in the mess of his own misguided heart.

There’s risk in reward, and reward in risk. You’re meticulous, hedonistic to the last detail. But Spencer? Well, he will always be the one loose end you could never quite force yourself to clean up. The thread that kept untangling, even as time passed. Cut it off, you should be rational, wash every bleeding trace of him from your skin.

But there’s irrationality in love.

Blood adorns your features; there’s no need to touch up your appearance, to return to the domesticated facade you once used on him. No, he’s been exposed to the ugly now. There can be no do overs, no back-tracking, game over try again doesn’t exist in real time.

“What are you going to do about it?” you ask, and god, hes just as beautiful as the day you left him. So perfectly real, with dragging exhaustion and pretty brown eyes to ease the sting of his tight-faced, troubled expression.

You didn’t cut the phone lines, nor move the gun he keeps stashed in his cabinet drawer. Down the hall, to the left. You know he won’t make any abrupt actions. Know, in an intuitive way, telepathic communication between past lovers.

“It was a gamble coming here, aren’t you pleased to see me pretty boy?”

Spencer has to fight every urge he has, every moral he believes in to not lunge at you; to not strangle your slender neck, crack you in half, destroy you the way you’ve destroyed his sanity.

Two years, 8 months, 11 days since you cataclysmically uprooted his routined life. He fell in love with softness, not the jagged edge of a blade.

“I let you go. Wasn’t that enough?” it feels too natural, fighting in his apartment, some sort of twisted lovers quarrel. There’s a definite list of everything he should do in this moment, and despite all logic, he just blanks at the sight of you.

“You had to come back. Rub salt in the wound. Do you get off on this?” a sigh falls from his pretty lips, “Actually, don’t— don’t answer that. We both know the answer.”

“I get off on you,” you correct.

It’s true. If he was to analyse you, profile your warped brain like his other unsubs, he’d find nothing but unyielding loyalty to him. For all the damage you’ve done, there’s always been one anomaly to your detachment.

He stands right before you.

And, sure, maybe you’ve got a leg up in this situation. Perhaps the distorted memory of you holds him back: lazy nights and tangled sheets, his body pressed up against yours. The way he’d talk, quantum physics, philosophy, rambles that dissolved into open admissions of feelings. There’s a lot that was fake, but to be a good liar, you have to add subsidiary details of truth.

God, he wishes the world would be cruel—a cosmic alignment of karmic righteousness that would grant him relief: some kind of justification for what he must do. But the universe is indifferent, nothing but a distant star, a fleeting speck of dust in the grand scheme of life. There’s no such thing as good or bad, only consequences.

Consequences. Consequences for his actions. Butterfly effect. He can comprehend it. But, there were many things he adored about you, while the illusion of love was tangible. The way your hair would curl just above your shoulders, your skin in the morning light. The way you’d laugh at one of his obscure Star Trek references, better yet his criticism on modern, inaccurate horror. He could stare at you for eons, as though he was trying to make out the secrets of the universe in the constellation lines of your scars.

The illusion of love, as it was. He sees you now with the clarity of reality, the same way a mirage fades away as you approach; a distortion of perception.

“And you get off on me. Even now. Don’t you?” you say, shifting forward to close gravitational space.

There’s no way to disregard this morbid connection. No psychological justification he can exploit to demean your feelings. You’re not a psychopath, nor anything that relates to a lack of empathy. You feel— you feel empathy for all of your victims, the line of bodies that mark your path. But it goes deeper than that. There was reasoning for your actions, just as there was for his.

“Say it,” you goad. And there’s satisfaction here, sure. Something mean and condescending. But there’s also hurt, because he was supposed to be a means to an end, and now, he might very well be your end.

“Say you miss me. C’mon boy genius, a few little words and i’ll have enough content to satisfy me for years. Don’t be mean— you know I hate being edged.”

He does miss you, every day that he wakes up, his bones too hollow and cold to leave his bed. The ache in his chest where his heart was supposed to be, too empty to function. No amount of caffeine can fill the void in his skull where thoughts of you used to reside. The longing, the desire for the past to rewrite itself.

“You’re sick,” he tries. But he’s not good at this. Not when the love remained after the inevitable fall out, not when the darkest parts of him still clung to want, even after he realised the truth.

“You’re sick, and..” he tries again, “and I hate how much I miss you. There? Is that enough? Are you happy? Got what you wanted?”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “No. If I ‘got what I wanted’, I would still have you.”

Spencer dies. Metaphorically, literally, what does it even matter? He dies, respawns, and then kisses the admittance from your lips.

Instinctively, just like the past, your hands tangle through his hair, and perhaps there’s a sense of ownership to the gesture. The knowledge that he will always be yours. Scarred from your touch, returning to your lips like a dog with a bird. There’s a mindless attempt at anger on his part, biting lips and rough teeth, but just like always, he quickly melts.

He melts, and you catch him. Because for all it’s worth, lies and deceit aside, you’ve always loved him.

There’s something powerful to the gesture; knowing you have someone wrapped around your finger. Even after you’ve bared the worst of you, the ugliness of man-kind. There’s someone out there that will wipe the blood from your cheek, and kiss you through it.

“Oh, even better,” you mutter against his lips, “Much, much better. C’mon Spence, show me just how much you’ve missed me.”

Two years, 8 months, 11 days since he felt like he could breathe.

It hurts, it hurts so much, because there’s a sense of coming home to the kiss, and he just wants you to stay. To ruin him forever. To leave behind a deformed version of him, something unrecognisable and equally scarring.

You’re too loyal and he’s too susceptible to any form of attention. Because you want him, and it’s easy to fall into a cyclical cycle of self-destruction when you’re the catalyst.

“I did miss you.” he admits again. “You— crazy, homicidal excuse of a person.”

Spencer’s hand comes up to touch your cheek, the rough texture of skin meeting something soft. His thumb traces down the curvature of your jawline, a silent hello that doesn’t linger long, too soon to be replaced with his lips.

You push him back against the wall, a painful groan escaping your lips when you feel his hips canting forward, searching aimlessly for a friction you’ve both been denied. Two years. His body still aches for you. It’s primal, something perverted and tainted and so very good.

You knew this would happen. There was not a doubt in your clouded mind that he would deny you. What you do to me, I do to you.

“There’s my boy.” you mutter when you grip said hips, fingers finding their natural, fated position against divine bone. When he begins to find a stable pace, bucking up to meet you with every kiss that you press to his lips.

He whimpers when you touch him, soft sounds of need slipping past his parted lips into the confines of his empty apartment. He’s trying so hard to maintain composure, but he can’t find it in him to fight the inevitable. The ache of separation between himself and you. So he lets it happen, like he always does.

My boy, the possession goes straight to his head. One simple phrase and he’s untangling, breaking to pieces because yes, he is yours. And yes, he will forever want to be reminded.

“Mhm, mhm. Oh— oh, fuck.” he’s so hard, clothed cock pushing up against you with every movement. He could get off on less of you. He has. Every night.

And yes, it certainly feels like home. It’s only the thing your body has been aimlessly yearning for, day in and day out. It’s not fair, not fair to you, that you’ve allowed your resolve to crumble, your strategic, one-track mind, for the fleeting body of a past lover.

But then again, demeaning him to a past lover doesn’t even begin to articulate this.

You’re fairly certain he was put on this earth, just to torment you.

And you’re fairly certain you’ll always let him.

“God, you’re such a slut for me.” you say, drawing back from the friction just to prove your point. The disintegrating whimpers that bleed out of his mouth in response are enough alone to confirm.

His head falls back against the wall, baring that lovely length of his neck and its pretty bruises. He wants you to kiss him there, to leave one last mark before he says ‘I won’t see you again’ and means it this time.

“Don’t— don’t stop—” even as he speaks, a mess of jumbled words and breathless sentences, you’re still teasing him. He hates how much it works, how much he’d rather fall into the pleasure of your hands.

“Fine. Whatever. Yes. What do you want to hear? That it’s whorish the way I want you. That you’re able to just… corrupt me with all these dirty words, even though I have an extensive vocabulary. Even though i’m supposed to be—“

He’s not even sure what he’s supposed to be anymore.

“You know the extent of my devotion.” he concedes.

There will always be sadistic pleasure in reducing him to such an ignominious version of himself. You’ve seen it before, back when you were trapped in an artificial, yet domesticated, haze of bliss. But to hear it now? Even after everything has been said and done?

That’s a new type of pleasure.

You know he still holds onto the facade of you, aimlessly reaching for something intangible, something that never truly existed. “You want me to be good for you, huh? Just pack up my shit, leave it all behind, get better? Think about it. White picket fence. Coffee every morning. God— it would be insufferable. Coming home to feed the dogs, talking every night over the phone, begging you to be safe on a case, or or—“

Spencer breaks. Silencing your words with a pained whimper.

Usually, he doesn’t allow himself to think about that fantastical hypothetic. He can’t afford to. Months after he let you go, when the truth had been exposed to his naive eyes, he’d spend hours in a mess of aching limbs, dreaming up alternative realities where your hands weren’t stained from blood, and the most despicable thing you could do was make his coffee bitter.

So when you force him to open old wounds, to rehash past hopes, he falls apart. A whine escapes his lips, hips bucking, once, twice and then he’s coming untouched. Making a mess out of himself— and it’s sick, so very sick to get off on the thought of you permanent, the epitome of good.

Something he could hold onto without slicing open skin.

It’s not a good orgasm, it never is without your direct help, but at least it’s some form of release. In the aftermath, he blinks away tears, vaguely aware of the cum staining his boxers, creating damp spots through fabric.

There’s something painful, cutting to your gaze when you look at him. At the debauched sight, corrupted from just a few words.

Give it all up? For what? Him?

All things considered, it’s tempting.

“Spencer,” you mutter in the serrated moments between. When he’s still nebulous, caught in the aftershocks of abrupt pleasure. When he’s just gotten off, untouched, on the notion of a domesticated life with you.

He’s struggling to breathe. He’s spent nights gasping for you, reduced to the most debasing version of himself. So out of touch, you drove a blade through his back, catching his heart on the way.

“Why are you— doing this?” he asks, but before you can even answer, provide him with an explanation that will devastate, he’s lunging forward, kissing the lies that cling to your lips. Kissing you because his mouth hurts when it’s not attached to yours.

“One last time.” he says; he’s too intelligent, too intellectually adept, to allow this swallowing cycle of humiliation to continue.

But, underneath it all, he’s also inherently selfish for you. He’s fairly certain you were engrained into his skin, long before he fell into your barbed trap, teeth and penetrative ruin.

“Then you leave. You actually leave, never contact me again. No showing up at my apartment unprovoked. I have a good life without you. Understood?”

You scoff. He presses forward, “Understood?”

You don’t protest when he elucidates his life as good. Even if it’s quite the contrary. Even if he has to bare witness to depravity every single day, scrutinise his way through the minds of the most perverse. Perhaps this is a social experiment to him, perhaps you are the guinea pig, Laika sentenced to space. You know he loved you once, but it’s hard to comprehend the feelings remained unscarred, it’s hard to imagine you’re anything but a test subject now.

You look at him. Look at that pretty face. Your undoing. He could be your achilles heel, hamartia in its rawest form, or maybe you willingly chose to do this. Maybe fate, and divine intervention played no part in your attachment to him. Maybe it’s just chemicals. The logics explanation. Imbalanced, skewed chemicals.

“Don’t worry, boy genius.” you respond, “You won’t get anything, not even a postcard, from me. It’ll be like I never even existed.” no trace. D.C has always been a monotone cesspit of nothing anyway.

It’s cruel. Because if you leave, truly leave. And he never hears from you again, never catches you in his kitchen, drinking coffee with an unadulterated smile, then he will begin to forget.

The curve of your spine, the scars beneath your chest, the way your fingers fit into his own. The way he was able to memorise your body until he could draw it in the dark, when your body was pressed to his, when there was nothing but a false establishment of safety.

He knows he can’t forget. Not technically. But it’ll grow distant, it’ll be replaced with new normals and routines. That, that, he can’t compute.

“Good,” he says, kissing you again, kissing you because this is it.

Spencer wants you. In every sense of the word, he wants you so badly it’s killing him.

His bedroom still holds traces of you. That, itself, is a crime. But he just falls into you. The way lovers do. Your hands against his skin— his hair threaded through your fingers, your lips at the base of his neck. He lets you leave another bruise, a mark, a confirmation of possession, because even if this is the last time, he is, and always will be yours.

“Still the prettiest person i’ve ever seen,” you admit when he’s flushed naked beneath you.

There’s something in those doe-eyes, brown irises blown out of proportion, that hooked you. Even at the worst, it was still soft with him.

Slender frame, slightly arched, you want to bite into his hips, mark every inch of him as yours. It’s greedy, gluttonous, his messy hair, fanning out like a halo, the tangled curls he never bothers to properly care for.

“God, fucking look at you,” you grip his jaw, tilt his head back to bare that blemished neck of his. To have and to own. He’s so inexplicably different to you, so good it runs down to the bone. And maybe you’ve always been insatiable for what you’ve lacked.

He can’t take this. He can’t, not again. The past, the future will have to dissolve with this moment, because there will never be another again.

You will never get this close to him. It’s a terrifying thought, that this’ll be the standard of intimacy, of love - because he knows it isn’t. But he can’t risk the reality he’s faced with, the reality of living without this. Of living without you.

Your words only make it worse. He wants to beg you to stop. To cease the torture.

“Shut up.” He kisses you, as if to remind you that your mouth is made for kissing, for his lips, for a litany of dirty words that he can’t bear to hear. Those words are for someone else. For someone similar. Not him. Never him.

Defying fate. He gets off on being something bad beneath the surface. No one would ever expect it; boyish maladroit Spencer, the youngest of the team, willingly allowing, condoning, a killer to sink into his skin.

“Don’t tell me to shut up,” you respond, muffled against his lips. “If this is the last time, i’m going to enjoy it. Going to enjoy the sight of you, all desperate for me alone.”

“You assume i’ve ever been desperate for anyone else—“ he counters.

“Oh, that’s it. Keep talking dirty to me.”

“It’s not dirty. It’s a factual statement.”

You pull away, a trail of saliva bridging the space between your mouths. If there is higher power at play here, you want to curse, to spite your creator. Because if ‘things’ had been different, if you had been born from the same rib, this could’ve ended differently.

Or for that matter, never ended at all.

“Sit there and watch me.” you say, and Spencer hates the way he obliges. Pushing himself up against the headboard, he stares at you, at the way you position yourself, standing by the foot of the bed.

“Do you even know what you do to me? Do you even understand the gravity your existence has on me?” you continue, unfastening the lace corset that clings to your frame. When it drops to the floor, breasts exposed, you run your hands across them, catching pierced nipples for a vindictive moment of pleasure.

“I— uh,” Spencer is admittedly a little distracted. Sex had always been something ruinous between you two. Something that conflicted his lack of experience, forced him to adapt.

He always wondered how someone so soft, the epitome of light, could be this obscene. Now he understands.

“Lost your words? Come on, pretty boy. I thought you had an ‘extensive vocabulary?’ Hm?”

He wants to touch himself, to ease the pulsing throb that centres in his cock. But he doesn’t, because despite the time that has passed, he still knows your rules. “Don’t use my words against me. I’m being tortured.”

“Tortured, huh?” your hands fumble over buttons until you’re reduced to a pair of panties, soaked throughly, leaving scarce to the imagination.

“So so tortured. Oh my god, who are you? Can I please have my soul back?” he’s joking, but not really.

“Well maybe if you beg for it,” your words fade into a mess of moans, fingers slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. Spencer’s head spills back against the wall; he looks more affected by the movements than you.

It’s easy to fall back into old habits. Relapse.

“Come here, come here, i’m having an existential crisis.” he says, watching as you slip one finger, then two inside you, struggling to stand now. It’s strange how pleasure can reduce the most antagonising minds to vulnerability.

“Please— oh fuck, please. Please. Don’t make me watch, I can’t. Need you. Need you so bad.”

He thought he found the core of torture in you touching yourself, but he was wrong. Because when you crawl closer, when you slot yourself between his thighs, lips finding skin that only you have ever touched, he sees the root of evil in his brain. The ninth circle of hell.

It’s justified, he supposes. For all the good he’s done, he has betrayed. Himself, his friends, family, existence itself. There is not one thing he wouldn’t ruin, just to feel you. It’s incriminating, so yes, he deserves to freeze in Cocytus. He’ll willingly plead guilty, accept his entrapment in the ring of Caina.

“Poor baby, look at you.” you say, kissing his tip, catching the pre-cum on your tongue. Spencer responds: fisting bedsheets, fighting the restraint to buck forward, to find misplaced solace in the warmth of your mouth. He’s sprawled out across sheets now, lying back in a tangled heap of want. “Shh, it’s okay,” you continue, “I like my men desperate.”

“Desperate? Ah—,” he fights the urge to shut his eyes, too aware that this is the last memory he will ever retain of you.

You, painted into his mind. The final evidence left in the fire: mouth sinking down his length, taking him to the hilt, watery eyes and leaking mascara.

“This isn’t even desperation. You’re killing me. Just, oh oh— please, don’t. ‘M gonna cum. Gonna cum—“

Is it sick that he doesn’t want to? If only to prolong this transitory moment of destruction? Like the lotus eaters, he will always be mindless in the pursuit of more, more, more of you.

You draw back from his cock, only to press a soft kiss against the tip. The gesture alone has him reeling, has him begging to be saved, to atone for every sin he found in the comfort of your divinely crafted lips.

“Gonna let me sit on that pretty cock of yours, hm? Let me use you one last time? Promise i’ll be good,” a lie, “So so good.”

“God, yes. Yes, please. That would—“ You take him deep, deep enough that everything aches. He only feels alive when you’re wrapped around him, when there’s not an ounce of distance between your bodies, when he can touch the insides of you. Pry open the raw, unfiltered version of you.

He only feels alive when he’s sunk inside the harbinger of death. He’d laugh if it didn’t hurt.

You’ve got one hand tangled in your hair, the other pressed flat against his waist, supporting you through each bump of movement. Eyes like marbles, Spencer looks up, and wonders why this will never be enough for you.

You look back, meet his gaze, as if you’re Orpheus, predestined to turn around, to always return. Even if it’s just for one last second. Even if the fall-out is so much worse than pushing forward blindly.

Oh, hes certain you’re carving a hole inside him, something that will only grow and expand, imploring to be filled by it’s inventor. It’ll hurt, for the rest of time, he supposes.

When he finds your hand around his neck, he isn’t startled. Neither, when your thumb presses against his throat, applying pressure until the world cracks and fades, distorting his refined mind to the here and now. He floats, feeling transient in the curse of your touch.

“That’s it. Just let go. I’ve got you.”

He is a sacrificial lamb. The priests favourite. He will take the knife every time, and thank you for it after.

You release the tension, hand taking his instead. For all the cruelty you possess, you’d never think to harm him. Not physically at least. The emotional damage, however, finds you both. There can be no happiness in either of your worlds, not when the memory of each other festers. “Good boy— taking it so well. God, no one is ever gonna compare.”

He cries at the words. Pretty tears streaming down his face, because the reciprocation to his undying piety will forever trigger the warped chemicals in his brain. Will forever reduce him to something saccharine.

“Love you. Love you so much. Don’t go. Please,” he fractures, “please don’t go.” he begs, besmirched words he’ll regret in the wake of his pleasure. They don’t count, and yet, he knows, in the most depraved sections of his mind, they’re true.

You ride him harder. Back curved, finding god in the washed-out body of someone fatally destroyed. “Not going anywhere— fuck, fuckfuckfuck. That feels so good. You’re so good,” maybe it’s a kink to ruin something so perfectly spotless.

Maybe it’s a kink that he wants it.

“Say it. God, just say it. This once.” for old times sake, he almost adds. But that wouldn’t be objectively correct. For all the intimacy you shared, you never once articulated those three words. Perhaps it was to save your dignity, to hold pieces of yourself in the lies you beautifully crafted.

His thumb runs over your clit, and in the tangle of your orgasm, he almost thinks you forget about his demand. But after, when you’re still taking him, when you’re still clenching, unclenching, clenching around his cock, when you know you own every part of him, you answer.

“I love you.”

He falls apart. Hips canting, body squirming, whimper after whimper escaping his bruised lips as he releases inside of you. Pushed deep, defiled to the limit. For a moment, everything is okay, everything will be alright, because there’s pleasure, and it’s you. It’s always you.

How can he justify falling in love with you again? How can he, when he still clings onto the artificial love of the past? He’s not sure his heart can handle one set of feelings, nevermind two.

He takes you again, well… mostly you take him again. In ways that have him polluted with the remnants of your teeth. Canine marks, etched deep enough to bleed. He hopes the swelling leaves behind perennial scars, anything to remind him. Anything to hold onto when you’re gone and it’s cold.

After, when you lie together, he presses his forehead against yours and wishes he was in any other universe. One where you’re happy. Where everything is pure and simple, clean from sin.

There was always truth in what we shared before, you admit. Lazy nights spent draped over the couch, kissing him to silence convoluted rambles. Your presence in the morning, bathed in holy glow, sunlight bleeding over the pretty sight of you. The first night he touched you and saw god. And then the following night, when he ascended all over again.

He wakes to find no body. He wakes to find nothing. It feels like self-sabotage, the promise that you would leave, even if it’s quite the contrary.

In the absence, abstinence of your presence, he discovers traces of you in everything he sees, all of it, everything consumed, returning to the simple thought of you you you.

When the first postcard comes, Portland, dreary weather— beaches and ports, there’s no anger. No exasperation that you broke your word.

You love him, it’s morbid, but for someone like him, it overrules everything. Sanity, dignity, his own stable existence.

You overrule everything.

#averys recs ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𐙚 #holy shit #sub spencer reid

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ifwdominicfike · 12 hours ago

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maybe, maybe MAYBE. new blurb tmr idk i need to start writing now that it’s christmas break 😭😭

#— avery talks ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱.ᐟ #sighhh #im so tired goodnight #sturniolo triplets

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ifwdominicfike · 16 hours ago

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my makeup came out SOO GOOD TODAY IM SO HAPPY.

#— avery talks ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱.ᐟ #i also tried a new lipstick too #heheheh

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ifwdominicfike · 20 hours ago

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ive been reborn!! (i cut my bangs :D)

#— avery talks ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱.ᐟ #im so happy

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ifwdominicfike · 21 hours ago

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favourite girl !!!! hello my cinnamon candle :0

SWEET ANGEL!!! hello >.< , how are youuu??

#— averys inbox ˖ ࣪⊹˚࿔#⊹ ࣪ ˖ sirenedeslily

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ifwdominicfike · 1 day ago

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OOHHHMMYYYGGODDD

Baker In The Buff

M.S x fem!reader

What’s better than coming home to freshly baked cookies served by your naked girlfriend after a stressful day?

warnings/discl ; spanking, spitting, slight choking, oral f!receiving, unprotected p in v, cum/squirting, rough, counter backshotttss, pet names, after care, bigdick!matt - MDNI - buckle up sluts!

Matt had been at the warehouse all morning, you’d checked in to see how things were going,

You dropped your phone to the couch, trying to think of something to cheer him up. Baking immediately came to mind, an easy way to make his day even a little better. But you needed something more…you lugged yourself off the couch and into the kitchen, trying to wrack your brain on what you could possibly do for him..that was until your eyes landed on your baking apron. You honestly didn’t wear it often, but as soon as you laid your eyes on it, a bolder idea came to mind.

The apron…and nothing but the apron.

You laugh to yourself as you strip naked. What’s better than coming home to freshly baked cookies served by your naked girlfriend after a stressful day?

you go and throw your clothes into the hamper, before slipping on the apron. though, it felt like it was missing something..you ponder into the bedroom, spotting a pair of heels matt had bought you recently, perfect.

after slipping them on, you check yourself out in the full length mirror. you felt slightly ridiculous, but you looked hot as fuck. with a shrug, you retreat to the kitchen to get to work. your heels clicking obnoxiously against the floorboards.

After a while of baking in almost nothing-which felt oddly freeing-you hear the front door click. You tried to ignore your heart jump as you started to unload cookies from the baking tray onto a christmas plate. You heard his footsteps on the stairs, and by the time he reached the top, you were placing the last cookie onto the pile.

His eyes land on you, immediately softening. just seeing you made his day instantly better. little did he know it was about to get a whole lot better..and with the apron covering your front, he was none the wiser as he greeted you

“Hey sweetheart- something smells good” he smiles, dropping his backpack to the floor and coming toward you.

“Freshly baked” you say, trying your best to mask your devious smirk as a sweet innocent smile.

You stay planted with your front to the island as matt rounded the corner. You hear him come to a sharp halt. You turn your head to lock eyes with him over your shoulder, but his eyes were already trailing down your bare backside. “Fuck” he mumbles under his breath, his throat bobbing.

you watch in amusement as he takes in your figure with parted lips..his hungry eyes explore every inch of bare skin, from the nape of your neck all the way down to the tip of your heels planted firmly on the floor. his tongue darts out, wetting his lips as his eyes finally meet yours again. the energy of his gaze shifting into pure lust

“All this for me huh?” he says in a low voice before running his tongue along his perfect teeth as he stepped forward, stationing himself right behind you

“Figured you deserved it after the day you’ve had” you mumble, trying not to shudder as you feel matts hand slowly scoop your hair to the side, draping it over your shoulder to bare the back of your neck. Your pulse quickens as you feel his breath on your skin, the buzz between your legs growing by the second..

“Mm-lucky me” he whispered , whilst reaching up to the bow tied at your neck, tugging it loose, the front of the apron falling down, your bare chest now on display.

His hand firmly clutches the back of your neck, as his other trails downward, a single fingertip brushing down the length of your spine, slow enough to make you shiver. when he reached the second bow tied at your waist, he wasted no time in tugging that loose too, the fabric now pooled at your feet, leaving you bare and exposed in nothing but your heels.

He pushes the hand he had clasped to your neck forward, bending you over the countertop. you let out a small gasp as your nipples press flush against the cold marble, taking a lip between your teeth in anticipation

Matt releases his grip on your neck, sliding his hands to your shoulders. He digs his fingers into your flesh, massaging as he lays kisses to your back.

He finally takes a step back, a low groan leaving his lips as his gaze falls to your ass and glistening pussy on full show for him. “Look at you baby-fuck-all worked up huh?” he teases, before lifting his shirt, placing it between his teeth and fumbling his belt buckle loose. the sound of the metal clinking made your insides twitch, and the sound of the keys on his belt loop rattling as he tugged his jeans down had you just desperate. you needed him so, so badly.

He drops his tshirt from his teeth and grips his throbbing cock, stroking himself as he takes in the view, letting out a needy,shaky sigh at his own contact. You looked oh so fuckable, bent over so pretty for him. your palms and cheek flat to the shiny surface. You shift slightly in your position, becoming restless

Matt let’s out a low chuckle at your neediness

“patience baby” he mutters, before firmly bringing his free hand down to your ass, your body jolting as you yelp in pleasure at the euphoric sting

Although matt couldn’t wait to feel you wrapped around him, he just had to taste you. your glossy slick staring up at him. he licked his lips before crouching down, immediately burying his face into your pussy from behind. you let out a loud moan as his tongue digs in your folds, collecting every bit of your essence he possibly could. matt couldn’t help but grunt against your core as he fisted his cock simultaneously, his free hand palming your ass,laying small smacks every so often.

“Mm-matt-p-please-i need you inside me so-mm-so bad” you beg

Matt doesn’t have to be told twice..with one last lap of his tongue, he rises to his feet, a hand planting itself firmly on your hip whilst the other slides his throbbing tip up and down in the mixture of your juices and his spit.

He lines himself up at your entrance before speaking “since you asked so nicely” he mumbles, before shoving his whole length into you with a loud snap as your ass ricochets on his skin. Your eyes roll backward as your jaw falls slack with a scream, the little time to adjust making the feeling of his girthy length all the more overwhelming. in the best way possible.

Matt loses no time as he instantly starts snapping his hip into yours at full force, his dick filling you so, so good. A sharp moan falling from your mouth with every thrust into your greedy hole..perfectly blending with the grunts and groans coming from above you

“look at you takin’ every fuckin’ inch-fuuckk-” matt drawls in a husky voice “-y’like takin’ my big-mmph-fucking dick baby?” he coaxes, keeping up his hard,fast pace.

All you could do was moan loudly in response, unable to form a sentence. Matt leans forward, bringing his free hand to wrap around the front of your neck, before pulling you to a standing position, your back flush to his chest “fucked you dumb already huh? answer me” he orders breathlessly, loosening his grip on your throat slightly

“Y-yes-fuck i love it-s-so much ohh” you manage to babble out, your body relaxing backward, almost limp against him as your legs start to shake

Matt chuckles lowly, seeing you fall apart around his huge dick was his favourite thing in the world. He wraps both arms around you from behind, pretty much keeping you up right as he gripped your tits with each hand, palming them whilst he kept up his relentless thrusts. Matt buried his face into the crook of your neck, planting sloppy open mouthed kisses

The room filled with the clapping of your sticky skin, and your in sync moans and whimpers.

You let your head fall back onto his shoulder, your lips fixed in an ‘o’ as he continues to bury himself as deep as he possibly could into your heavenly walls

“M-c-close” you breath, feeling a familiar pressure forming quickly.

“Not yet” matt grunts, pulling out of you momentarily to spin you around to face him , your glossed over eyes locking onto his as you wobble on the spot “there’s my pretty girl” he whispers with a smirk, before picking you up and placing you on the counter top.

Matt stands inbetween your legs as you prop yourself back on your elbows, your body too weak from his pounding to sit up straight. You watch down through glazed eyes as he fists himself, leaning down placing a peck to your clit before spitting on your folds.

Within seconds he plunges his cock back into its rightful place, a relieved moan escaping from both of you at the reuniting.

Matt pushes your thighs back, your knees coming closer to your body as your stilettos hang in the air, his large hands holding you in place. The new position allowing his length to sink even further. The loud pornographic moans from your mouth turning into silent screams, your body so spent that it can hardly make noise any more.

“Mmph-my fuck-i’m so close baby-” matt pants “-you gonna finish-Mm-with me pretty girl”

All the strength you could muster allowed a lazy nod from you, as you feel the same pressure rising once again.

“g-good girl-m’ gonna count” matt praises as he delivers a sequence more of powerful, erratic thrusts

You couldn’t take it anymore, the rapid forming pressure becoming too much to bare, you use the last of your energy to start counting for him

“Three” you mumble, your eyes rolling back

Matts mouth turns up into a smirk, the one word from your mouth somehow bringing him even closer to the edge.

“Two” he grunts, bringing a thumb to circle your clit, his thrusts starting to falter

“One”

Matt pulls out of you at the last second, as he watches you completely fall apart, sliding his hand up and down his throbbing dick as you scream, gushes of fluid spraying out of you, coating his cock

the feeling of your warm liquid splashing onto his length mixed with the sensation of his fist pumping back and forth sent him into orbit, his jaw falling slack with a loud “fuuuckkkk” , copious amounts of cum spurting from his reddened tip, landing all over your still squirting pussy. God it was a heavenly sight, so wet, so messy.

Once you had both caught your breath and come back down to earth, matt scoops you off the counter, holding you securely as he carries you to the bathroom.

Sitting on the edge of the tub whilst cradling you on his lap, he starts the water. He reaches for a washcloth, wetting it before cleaning you up. You wince slightly at contant, your pussy completely spent, “i know baby m’sorry..the bath will help okay?” he coos. You hum in response as you nuzzle into his chest.

Once the tub is full, he carefully lowers you into the warm water,before laying a soft kiss to your forehead and disappearing into the kitchen to clean up the mess you’d both made.

After a little while he returns, taking his clothes off and joining you in the water. “y’feeling okay angel?” he asked quietly. Although matt loved to ruin you, afterward he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for some reason “-i was a little rough on you”

Now slightly more coherent, a small chuckle escapes you with a nod “I’m okay-i loved it” you reassure.

Once you were both done in the bath, matt wrapped you in a fuzzy warm towel whilst picking out some of his oversized clothes to dress you in. After pulling them over your body, and dressing himself, he carried you to the couch, placing you down carefully.

He leans over you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear with a cheeky smile “How bout a cookie?”

an; AHHHH i got carried away with this one, probably the longest smut ive written!! thankyou for reading, i hope y’all enjoyed this✨

also, shoutout to my love @phone4pills , if you want more counter sex content show some love here 🫦 !!!!

#averys recs ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𐙚 #mmmm

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ifwdominicfike · 1 day ago

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...Looks pretty 𐙚 C. Sturniolo

"Answer me or I stop."

✘ NSFW content ahead, fingering, mutual play, exhibitionism (?), the girls might as well be lesbians!

@bernardsbendystraws pov for doll is in the title!!

Bun was scared, her stomach in the pits of hell.

Her, Doll, Chris, and Matt had decided to sit in the living room and watch a movie. Nick would have been with them, but he had work meetings to attend, so the four were on their own.

Each couple were in their own world, curled up on opposite couches and watching 'Planet of the apes'. However, Chris and Matt had their own plans.

The two males knew how close their girls were to each other, in fact, they were too close to each other. The girls would cuddle with each other, change in front of each other, and sometimes even kissing eachother.

It's like they were attached at the hip - Like they were in a relationship.

So Matt and Chris decided to test how close they really were, as well as show the girls who they belonged to.

Chris eyes Bunny, watching her eyes dart across the tv, reading the subtitles quickly so she won't miss the action on the screen. He looks to Matt, giving him a subtle nod before starting to rub Buns thigh. The girl thinks nothing of it, used to Chris always touching her in some way.

She loved it, she loved affection - his affection.

However, what she didn't love was the way his hand started to sneak up her thigh and down the front of her frilly shorts, the same shorts Doll was currently wearing. She tenses and tries to pull his hand away, her brows furrowed and eyes wide. She hears Chris snickering softly. She may be sitting in front of him, but she could just see the smirk making it's way onto his face.

"Chris-" she hisses softly, her eyes darting to Doll and Matt, hoping they didn't see or hear what was going on.

He ignores her and simply spreads her folds apart and begins toying with her clit. Her eyes flutter shut before she snaps them open, trying to look inconspicuous.

She couldn't believe she was letting this happen, she felt bad - sort of.

The situation was ludicrous yet exciting, the idea of her boyfriend fingering her while her best friend and her best friend's boyfriend were just a few feet away, made her embarrassingly wet. The idea of being caught, maybe even having them watch, made her brain go fuzzy and her walls flutter.

She finds it hard to stay quiet, biting her lip and constantly clearing her throat.

"Y-You ok B-Bun?"

Bunny's head snaps to Doll, her eyes wide thinking she had been caught. She tries to get away with nodding, but Chris doesn't let her, asking her another question as he speeds up his assault on her puffy and aching clit.

"Yeah Bun, you ok?" Her breath hitches as he whispers in her ear, his breath warm.

"Answer me Bunny, or I stop."

"I-I'm goo-" Her jaw drops open as Chris pushes two fingers into her aching hole, immediately curling them against that spot that makes her turn into a mess. Her fingers harshly grip at Chris's arm, trying to stop herself from moaning out loud.

However, as soon as she hears a soft moan falling from Doll's lips, she allows her own to follow. It became clear what was going on, both boys forcing the girls to participate in exhibitionism. She couldn't even be mad, it was something so taboo yet so exciting.

Now not having to hide what was happening or what she was feeling, Bunny throws her head back onto Chris’s shoulder, closing her eyes and gyrating her hips to match the quick yet lazy movements of his fingers.

“M-Matt!”

Bunny’s eyes snap open hearing Dolls voice, her focus now on her.

She looked so pretty.

Her face scrunched, her lips in a soft pout, the way her nipples poked through the tight fabric of her tanktop.

It was an erotic sight.

She’d never tell the other three, but the sight of her best friend being pleasured was enough to send her over the edge.

“Come on Bun, let go f’me.”

Chris pants into her ear, his own orgasm approaching. Her walls flutter around Chris’s finger, her moans going up in pitch. Chris groans lowly as he feels her wetness seep through the material of his sweatpants, his dick twitching softly.

Both girls lay against their respective boyfriends, panting softly and high off of their orgasms, their minds racing with thoughts about what just happened.

Chris and matt look to each other, confirming what they already knew with a silent nod.

Both girls were more than comfortable with each other for this to happen.

What group activity could be next?

#averys recs ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𐙚 #ohmygod

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ifwdominicfike · 1 day ago

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i have so many words to say right now.

𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅…

. . . where Matt and Chris decide to test how close Doll and Bunny really are and show them who they belong to. Find Bunny's POV here.

warnings: SMUT, possessive behavior, exhibitionism, gay tbh, fingering, pussy squelching. pairings: Doll x Matt | Bunny x Chris notes: combined au with @muwapsturniolo - find her part here.

“-feels good, hm?” Matt purrs.

His fingers were torturously teasing you, sliding over your pussy through the thin fabric of your pj shorts over and over again. It’s a surprise to you, but for him �� this was planned.

The blanket covers the lewd scene from Chris and Bunny sitting on the couch opposite of you. Heat pulses through your body, your chest clenching and stomach tensing as you feel Matt’s cold fingers slide under the bridge of your panties.

“You like this, don’t you?” he husks, astonished by how much your pussy is sobbing.

His fingers slip upwards, drawing tight, focused circles around your clit as he spreads you open to really feel. Your breath hitches, your hands coming down under the blanket to grab on tightly to his wrists.

“Matt,” you whimper, your head falling backwards and onto his chest.

Your boyfriend looks down at you with a soft mischief. His eyes are sparkling with excitement and lust, his fingers beginning to slow.

“No…no, please.”

The whispered plea only makes his smile spread further. “Yeah? You want me to touch you like this? In front of them…” he says, nudging his head over in the direction of Chris and Bunny.

You nod fervently, your mind absent of anything but desire – anything but need.

“Ask Bun if she’s okay.”

Your eyes bulge as you feel him start to circle your swollen clit with his fingertips.

“Do it or I’ll stop.”

Fuck.

You hold on hard to his wrists, your gut continuously tightening as you breathe in a large puff of air.

“-you,” a moan is muffled as you bite down hard on your lip, the feeling of Matt’s fingers starting to tease your entrance mind-numbing.

This is torture.

But for Matt and Chris, it’s so fun.

Your voice is beyond shaky. Stutters and a weak tone make your face feel impossibly hot, but Matt’s fingers…they’re so distracting. Matt nibbles on your ear, warning you silently, urging you to speak.

And you do.

"-you ok b-bun?"

Matt almost laughs at how weak you sound. But, he focuses his energy elsewhere.

Bunny replies and you can’t help but notice the way her voice is shaking, the way the blanket covering her seems to be moving so peculiarly.

“M-matt,” you moan, feeling his free hand start to tease your hardened nipples through the thin tank top on your body.

Your mouth drops wide open. Matt’s palm massages against your sensitive pussy, your clit being abused perfectly as he fucks his fingers inside of you, curling them right against the spot that make your thighs clench together.

But he keeps you spread.

In fact, it’s almost purposeful how obvious he makes his hand moving beneath the blanket. Like it’s payback.

Your eyes trace over Bunny’s face, seeing her features so delightfully twisted.

She looks so pretty.

Chris is whispering against her ear.

Your brain is too fuzzy to connect the dots, too helpless to focus on anything but how good it feels.

“Fuckkkkk,” Matt purrs, kissing along the rim of your ear, “-squeezin’ my fingers so – shit,” he seethes, the pain burning in his wrist as he feels your nails dig in.

It’s nothing but encouragement to him, forcing him to give you everything as he keeps his palm grinding on your clit, his fingers fucking you relentlessly.

You’re so close.

The knot in your stomach is overbearingly daunting, building up more and more as you feel your legs start to quiver.

“-let go,” Matt urges, “-cum all over me lookin’ at Bun, yeah? Thaaat’s right,” he soothes, his fingers rolling to a stop as your body finally relaxes.Matt is nothing but thrilled, his teeth showing as he smiles at Chris sickly. They’re both proud – they’re both so excited to scheme more.

#averys recs ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𐙚 #rose toy doll!au x bunny

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ifwdominicfike · 2 days ago

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HES SO MMMMMMM

#— avery talks ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱.ᐟ #FUCK #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

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ifwdominicfike · 2 days ago

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꒰ — fuckboy!chris x smart!reader. ꒱ your parents always seem to end up interrupting you and chris at the worst times — chris finally deciding that the interruption is no longer a reason for him to stop.

your hands were gripping your bedsheets hard, your knuckles turning white as you grasped the material in your hands.

he was relentlessly stimulating you, his own hands occasionally reaching up to run over your hardened nipples — all whilst he licked and sucked at your heat.

his tongue running over your clit like it always did, before he’d gently suck on the delicate nerve, making you go crazy.

he was good at what he did, that was for sure. no matter how much you had other things to do, you’d always find yourself laid out on your bed as he worked his mouth on you.

he loved it, feeling you squirm underneath him — the way you looked so fucked out when he took breaks. your hole clenching around nothing.

it had become increasing difficult for him to not ask for sex, but he knew better than to push you in that way.

besides, he was more than happy with the current arrangement, going down on you any chance he could — watching as your body rang for more.

he loved how sensitive you were, and that this was all somewhat new to you.

he loved that no one had ever touched you like this, only him.

you yourself were addicted to the feeling, threading your hands through his hair to push him closer — as if he wasn’t close enough already.

there was something so wrong about what you were doing. having a boy in your room, eating you out as your parents remained blissfully unaware of the occurrences.

you knew it was wrong in a sense — or at least you’d been taught that. but that only made the experience better, biting down on your lip to stop anyone else from hearing how incredible chris made you feel.

bringing your hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds, and burying your head in your pillow when you came.

but there were points when you had to stop, when your parents would talk to you through the door — or if they called you from downstairs.

you always stopped, only resuming if the coast was 100% clear.

this time should’ve been no different, if it wasn’t for chris’s annoyances when he got high.

“feel good?” he mumbled hoarsely from between your thighs, pressing soft kisses against your core as he catches his breath.

“yeah.” you nod, already grabbing the back of his head to pull him closer. “keep going.” you whine, hesitating to bring your own hand down in desperation.

“gimme a sec.” he tells you, shifting on the bed to get comfier. then your phone flashes, a call from your mum. “hang on.” you sigh, picking up the call and putting it on loudspeaker.

both you and chris listen as your mum talks about the dinner options, a wicked smirk growing on chris’s face as he looks up at you — slowly dipping his head back between your legs to eat you out.

you shake your head violently, warning him to stop but he ignored it all. trailing his tongue through your folds, with not a single hint of regret on his face.

“hang on mum, can I just finish this question- in uh.” you almost moan, biting down hard on your lip as you try to get the sentence out. “I’ll be back in a second.” you say quickly before muting the call.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?!” you question, the anger evident on your face.

“calm down.” murmurs against your skin, still swiping his tongue over you. “seriously chris- it’s my mum.” you tell him in a panic.

“you told me t’keep goin’.” he points out, much to your dismay. “just stay quiet f’me.” he mumbled, his lips brushing over your clit as he touches the delicate nerve teasingly.

you want to tell him to stop, you really do. but he’s clearly not gonna make it easy, and you need to respond to your mum now.

“hi, mum. I’m back.” you say sweetly, holding the phone away from your face when you weren’t speaking.

she asks an array of questions about dinner, your lips sealed tightly shut as chris licked and sucked at your puffy clit.

“uh, roast is fine.” you say quickly, practically holding your breath as you speak — chris making it insanely difficult for you.

she chimes in agreement, and you think she’s gonna hang up before she asks yet another question — your eyes rolling to the back of your head in frustration and pleasure.

“I really-“ you whimper a little, your eyes going wide as you swallow down any other sounds. “I don't mind mum.” you say through the phone, staring chris down despite his eyes being closed in concentration.

“I need to know what you want, I’ve got to start cooking in the next 5 minutes.” she rambles through the phone, most of her words not registering in your brain, which is consumed by the way chris was devouring you.

“anything’s fine.” you gasp, holding your free hand over your mouth as he picks up the pace, finally looking up at you once that sound leaves your lips.

“are you alright sweetheart?” she asks, her voice now worried. “yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” you nod as you speak, trying your hardest to sound fine.

chris smirks against your core, his tongue pressing over your clit in a circular motion — your eyes squeezing shut, and your mouth falling open at the sensation.

“I’m gonna- mmh.” your brows furrow as you speak, your words caught in your throat. “I’m gonna go mum.” you finally breathe out, tugging at chris’s hair to pull him off — your orgasm rapidly approaching as his tongue swirls over your wetness.

“are you sure-“ your mum asks again, but at this point the heat in your stomach is surging through you, your body trembling at the feeling.

“yeah, m’good.” you spit out before hanging up, letting out a string of curses and moans as you cum right there — barely any warning.

“oh fuuuck.” you whine, grinding your hips towards his face to draw out your orgasm.

he smiles proudly, continuing his movements as he grips your thighs to keep you there. “holy shit, chris.” you sigh, your body shuffling away from his grasp as you let out small breaths.

“that was hot as fuck.” he mumbled, wiping his mouth with his thumb.

“mmh.” you hum, nodding a little as your body relaxes on your bed. he chuckles a little, patting your thigh comfortingly before leaning off the bed — chucking you your underwear and pyjama bottoms.

once your orgasmic bliss passes, you slide your underwear back on. “we’re never doing that again.” you tell him in stubborn huff, no longer in your lustful haze.

“why not?” he murmurs, leaning towards you to press soft kisses on the side of your still exposed thigh.

you stop, glaring down at him and his stupid cocky smile. “I almost came whilst still on the phone.” you sigh bitterly, putting your legs into your trousers. “I don’t want her to know— they can’t know.” you correct.

he nods in understanding. “we’ll just call bella next time.” he suggests jokingly, squashing your point.

you shake your head, a small smile appearing on your face against your own will as you stand up to get dressed.

“you’re weird.” you tell him. he smirks at that, watching you put your clothes back on as he lies on the bed.

“it was hot.” he says back shamelessly. you roll your eyes, not letting the compliment get to you. “you’re weird.” you repeat, making more of a point of it.

“I almost came in my pants.” you grimace, although your stomach does a backflip at the thought. “you need to be checked out.” you retaliate, moving over to the mirror to fix your hair — wanting to look presentable when you go downstairs.

he frowns a little, watching you. “y’know, it might’ve just been the sound of your mums voice that…” he trails off, looking down at the tent in his jeans.

your mouth hangs open in shock at the vulgar joke. “chris! no!” you scold him not dealing with any of his stupid jokes. but he just laughs, holding his hands up in surrender.

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