Ao3 Does Not Need An Algorithm, You're Just Lazy

Dom Reader>>>> FOAMING AT THE MOUTH‼️‼️‼️

I love good writing 🤧

                     THE BAAAAD TOUCH!

synopsis. there’s a very thin line between the way animals fuck on the discovery channel and the way you fuck them. featuring shameless, rough sex with the arcane men, and a third secret option at the end. jayce, vander, silco, viktor.

tags. top! reader, sub! jayce, vander, silco, viktor. reader has a cock. rough anal sex, creampie(s), exhibitionism, infidelity, cumslut! jayce, doggy, riding, size difference, huge cock, belly bulge, size queen! viktor, sweat kink, strength kink, breeding kink, implied marathon sex, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, excessive amounts of manhandling, age difference, established relationships. cock-hungrified men. (lmao)

a/n. inspired by this song from bloodhound gang.

“does she know?” you pant into his ear, grip strong and sweaty on his hips, and jayce feels dirty, the way he’s being mounted like a bitch. “does she know about the way i fuck you? the sounds you make when i fill your pretty hole up?”  

he shudders, shaking his head, nails raking down your biceps as he tries to lift his head, to be less vulnerable in the way you’re taking him, but to no avail. he feels the hot burn of your palm at the back of his neck, and he finds himself back with his cheek pressed against the sheets, back arching with the violence of forcing his body to accommodate both pleasure and pain plowing away at his dignity. 

 “fuck!” he gasps, “let’s not, nnngh! talk about this. not, not right now.” it’s not the first time you’ve brought mel up in a conversation, but hardly ever more than an offhand comment, something to tease, something for fun. this… this was unknown territory. 

“why? you don’t like it?” there’s a strange displacement in your voice, a touch whiny, as though you were pouting at his denial. jayce thinks he’s going insane, because as manipulative as you were, there was no way he could say no to you. not with that look on your face. the one he can’t see but knows it’s there. 

“doesn’t matter,” jayce whispers. “it’s not ri- right.” 

you want to laugh. it’s not right? so it’s all right and just if he sneaks into your bed almost every other night for you to get him off simply because said girlfriend never could—nights of sweat and sinful lovemaking that end with him sneaking out of your room with a limp—but it’s not okay if you want to talk about it? how was that fair? 

“you don’t like her anyway, do you?” you mutter. “you should just get rid of her and be with me.” you tighten your hold on him. you want it to bruise. you want him to go home with your marks on his body. you want mel to ask about them and jayce squirming as he tries to think of a stupid excuse to fool her again. faulty gym equipment. sparring session gone wrong. you know all of his excuses. it’s funny, the way he tries to patch things up. “this is cruel… to the both of us. don’t you wanna get this over with?” 

“it’s- unh, complicated!” jayce moans, but there’s nothing complicated about it, he just doesn’t want to talk. doesn’t want to feel the shame and guilt making his guts tangle and heart pound—the way you fit into him so perfectly, so innately, like you’ve always belonged inside him, a missing piece to his puzzle. 

he bites back a whine as the thick head of your cock pushes against his swollen prostate, and he’s not sure if he can even feel his legs at this point. it’s humiliating, the way you’re cooing nasty words into his ear, handprints branding his hips as you tug him up only to slam downwards against him, pushing him further down into the mattress with every heavy thrust. 

“why? what’s keeping you then? hah. don’t tell me. does she fuck you like this too?” you snarl, sucking hot purple bruises down the column of his neck, salt and iron underneath your tongue making you hungry, and he keens. “so desperate for cock you’d let your girlfriend fuck you, jayce? well? does she fuck you as good as i do?” 

“noo,” jayce slurs, shaking his head, “nothing’s as good. you’re the best. love it. love you.” 

“really?” you bark out a laugh, and he nods dumbly, like his body’s conditioned to respond to your every whim, wanting to please, to serve. “well, i don’t see it at all. only thing you could ever be in love with is my cock.” 

“ah- ah, yeah, that too,” he whines, “love you more.” 

“liar,” you growl, and he sobs out at the way your length drags across his walls, thick and girthy, missing his prostate on purpose. it’s a punishment, jayce knows. he’s sorry. he feels so guilty. “pretty slutty liar. you’ll do anything to get stuffed, won’t you? even if it means cheating on your little girlfriend. you’ll even enjoy it, the moment you break her heart.” 

jayce shakes his head, tears blurring his vision. he can’t even say anything at this point, with the way you’re forcing him to take, fucking the words out of him. he can’t help being addicted to this. it’s too good. mel would understand, wouldn’t she? she would, if only she could have a taste of it. it’s not his fault. not really. 

“you probably think she’ll never know. you probably think she’ll never find out.” you’re talking again, but the sounds buzz by, barely intelligible. jayce swallows, letting your accusation wash over him. he has been careful, hasn’t he. surely she won’t know. surely she can’t know. “the way you start crying when you’re about to cum. you think she’ll never know about that, right?” 

he doesn’t know what you mean, but it’s so hard to think. there’s wetness on his cheeks and the low flame in his belly has blazed into a forest fire. he wants to cum. he needs it. he needs it hard and rough, bruises on his waist and hips and love bites on his collarbones, hard, heavy thrusts that make him feel dizzy and high and stupid, drowning him in the throes of pleasure that only you can give to him. 

“please,” jayce begs, tears streaming down his face. “i want, ngh… ah, want your cum in me.” 

and before he knows it, there’s the rush of hot cum flooding his hole, the sweaty press of your chest against his back, your hips trembling and bucking against his, and it’s so good it makes him see stars. but you don’t stop. it’s messy and filthy, and pure bliss when he feels you snake a hand into his hair and wrench his head up, rough and careless just the way he likes it. 

his eyes roll back before his cock starts helplessly spurting at the sight of mel standing in the doorway, watching him being bred like a whore.

VANDER

. . . vander thinks he maybe maybe made a mistake, telling you to be rough with him. because this is exactly the kind of rough he likes. 

“oh, fuck, sweetness,” he moans, arousal bleeding into his guttural voice as he arches his back and cants his hips backwards to receive your thrusts, taking you deeper inside, his ass bouncing every time you meet his hips with a wet, nasty ‘pap’. “t-thaat’s it, kid. right there, fuck, harder…” 

he’s clutching his pillow tightly, waves of pleasure shackling him to the bed as you’re pounding away at his hole from behind. you’ve snaked a hand into his hair to wrench his head up roughly, and a low whine pushes its way past his lips, punctuated by a sharp, deadly thrust aimed at his prostate. he’s pretty sure his own cock’s rubbed raw against the sheets, spurting so much pre there’s a sticky, slippery pool underneath him—easing the steamy push and glide. 

there are stars bursting at the corners of his eyes, threatening to consume his vision, and he can vaguely feel his toes curl and thighs spasm at every brush of your cock against his bundle of nerves. there’s sweat dripping down his face, a salty tang on his tongue, and he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, hearing nothing but his own heavy pants and groans, attuned to the rhythm of your thrusts. it’s too good. almost makes him feel young again. he’s halfway through his forties, and yet you’re fucking him like he’s twenty. 

vander can feel your hands all over him, pressing heavy bruises onto the tender fat of his waist and hips, bodily dragging him back onto your cock every time you ram forward, making sure to put your entire weight behind it. the mattress is letting out horrible creaking sounds, the headboard of the bed slamming into the wall in perfect tempo, and the both of you are going to regret this later, but fuck, he doesn’t care. 

it’s addicting. it’s violent. vander shouldn’t be enjoying this, but he is. 

“fuck, love, y’er gonna make me cum already,” he chokes out, and it’s more of a drunken slur, really — there’s something about the way you’re treating him that makes him dizzy and weak at the knees. his fists are clenched, grasping at the bedsheets every time he feels like snaking a hand between his legs and jerking off to your thrusts. he wants to enjoy it, savour it—the way you’re taking him, pressing him into the mattress like you’re trying to break the bed before you break him, gaze hungry enough to swallow him up in your lust. 

“go ahead and cum, vander,” you drawl, grabbing a handful of his ass before sharply spanking him across, the sting rewarding you with a full-body shiver. “i want you to cum like it’s your last night on earth.” 

who the absolute fuck does this kid think he is, vander thinks, and he quickly buries his face back into the pillow because he knows he’s going to get loud. you’re insane. insanely bad at dirty talk, but your hunger makes up for it. he’s never liked dirty talking that much, but fuck, if you weren’t something different. cum like it’s his last night on earth? he really underestimated how greedy you were. 

“cocky,” he wheezes instead, once he’s caught his breath, “y’er gonna, haah, hafta fuck me harder for that to happen.” it’s yet another bad decision, and he’s digging his own grave, he knows it. as if you aren’t already fucking him within an inch of his life—the bulbous shape of your cockhead digging into his prostate with such immaculate precision, pressing the shape of your handprints into his skin as you fuck him with your eyes, your hands and your cock. 

hungry. intense. unforgettable. vander doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of it. 

before he can even breathe, you’ve hooked one arm under his thigh, tossing him over onto his back like you’re flipping a fucking pancake, and vander’s not a delicate man by all means. without wasting a second, you’re pushing inside him again, groaning shamelessly as his wet, warm cave engulfs you perfectly. vander makes a desperate noise, eyes squeezing shut—there’s no pillow to muffle his cries or hide his expressions from you this time, but he’s far too close to be embarrassed. 

the new position’s got you so deep inside him, and it’s getting harder to breathe, almost as though he could feel you all the way to his throat. it’s uncomfortable and very inconsiderate of his aching back, but the mind-numbing pleasure hammering away at his sweet spot makes up for it. 

“s-so fuckin’ good, kid,” he pants out, arching his back with a moan as you reach down to grope at his tits, the muscles plump and soft with tender age, hole clenching around you tightly every time you tug at his perky nipples. his cock’s all leaky, drooling over his stomach and making a mess, and he’s so aroused it’s almost endearing. “fuck me… god, fuck me.” 

he’s going to cum hands-free, vander thinks, and shit, you’re going to be so smug about this after you’re done with having your way with him. vander sneaks a glance at you—eyelids fluttering, making little grunts of pleasure every time you bully your way into his tight wet warmth. it embarrassingly makes the back of his neck burn, makes him feel all hot and sexy and wanted. 

“yeah? best cock you’ve ever taken, vander?” you purr, and his breath stutters, seizing up with a yell and then he’s fucking cumming with you balls-deep inside him. guess you’ll take that as a yes.

SILCO

silco doesn’t know how long he’s been bent over in that same fucking position, but he doesn’t plan on making you stop anytime soon. 

“darling, not so rough. . .” he gasps out, nails raking down the expensive wood of his office desk while you plow away at him from behind, his hole sopping wet but tight, as though you haven’t cum two times in him already. he can feel his knees knocking into the hard front of the desk with every brutal thrust, the weeping tip of his erection grazing the cool mahogany, the pleasure inside him making his lower belly burn with a flame he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

“why?” you grin, draping yourself over his half-clothed stature, his pants yanked down to his ankles as he’s bent over to take. you shuffle forward, making sure his ass is pressed snugly against your crotch before giving an experimental roll of your hips, always reaching deeper, for more. “worried that they’ll hear?” 

silco presses his lips together in a thin line, tilting his face away from yours, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he were sulking. you laughed. it was just too easy to piss him off sometimes. 

“i’m just playing around, baby. your office is soundproofed, no?” you straightened yourself, running a hand over the smooth, sensitive expanse of his back before returning to your firm grip on his bruised hips. he gave a shuddering sigh, trying to relax as you started to rock into him again with strong, steady thrusts. 

“it doesn’t matter,” he rasps, “we’re, hah, being too loud… sweetheart. s-sevika is right outside.” 

“don’t care,” you mutter. “i’m pent up. ‘least you can do is let me fuck you stupid. you’ll let me, right?” 

silco makes a noise at the back of his throat, half from displeasure, the other half from the sharp curl of arousal in his lower abdomen, making his cock twitch and leak. fuck if it didn’t turn him on when you talked to him like this. he settles for burying his face into his arms, preparing himself for whatever you were going to put him through. 

“be gentle,” he whispers, letting out a shuddering sigh. “i’m not so young anymore.” 

you could feel a grin pulling at the corners of your lips. yeah. sure, you were going to be gentle with him. with him looking like that. 

“hngh, r-right there…” silco mewls out, knees buckling repeatedly as he tries not to think about how loud he’s being. he supposes he could gag himself with something, your fingers, maybe, get them warm and wet for you while you use his face as leverage to fuck him harder, but he knows how much his noises spur you on, and right now he really doesn’t want to piss you off. not when you’re indulging him so well. “that’s it… you’re so good… darling.” 

“not so shy anymore?” you hummed, licking a hot stripe up his neck, his gasp twisting into a whine. “think we can make you louder?” 

“sweetheart,” he sighs as he feels your hand wrap around his throat, and he tilts his head back to let you grip it properly. “you already know what i want.” 

“well, i don’t think so.” you smile, leaning down to press your cheek against his, working away from behind with short, firm thrusts that steal his breath away. “remind me. did we use the magic word yet?” 

but just as he’s about to answer with snark, there’s the rap of fists against his office door, and silco feels his heart plummet. not now, when things were about to get good—this was the worst timing possible. “everything alright, boss?” 

“yes,” silco pants, “fuck… yes.” 

you can feel his nails dig into the back of your thigh, warning you not to pull out. you’re thick and heavy, resting against his stomach, and silco feels so fucking good and full. you can’t stop now. not until he’s had his fill. he can vaguely feel your warm seed trailing its way down his perineum in a slow trickle, and fuck, he wants more. wants to feel stuffed even without you inside him, drowsy and content. 

he blinks, brows furrowing as he catches himself fantasizing about you yet again. should he even be having thoughts like these in his forties? was this healthy? sex with you was life-changingly—and now apparently hormone-alteringly good. 

“sir?” sevika’s growl interrupts his train of thought. and yeah, not to mention—his second-in-command is right outside his office, while all he can think about is cock. shit. your big, leaky cock, buried to the hilt inside his hole. he wonders if it’ll be gaping once you’re done with him. and oh. cum. loads of your cum, filling up every inch of space inside him. making it hard to breathe. making him swel— “is someone in there with you?” 

“yes,” silco wheezes dumbly as you roll your hips against him with meaning, forcing him to take you deeper. he trembles, shifting back slightly to fuck himself on your cock, forcing a sharp inhale from you. “we are busy. you’re, oh… dismissed, sevika.” 

the silence is loud, save for the almost-silent squelches of your cock maneuvering inside him with all the cum stored in his belly. 

you can feel his heart pounding from the way your chest is pressed against his bare back. or maybe it’s your own. his walls squeeze around you, sinfully tight, pulling a muffled moan from where you have your teeth sunken into his shoulder. fuck. he’s—silco’s actually into this. you’d have never guessed he would be such a freak, for lack of a better word, but with how things were going . . . you didn’t mind it. not one bit. it drove you crazy with want, if anything. 

“... if you say so, boss.” the sound of retreating footsteps fills you with both relief and disappointment, but before you could even process what that means, you can feel silco gazing at you through his lashes, low and scrutinizing and something needy. 

“did i say you could stop?” silco grunts. “fuck me.” 

you let out a shaky sigh, hips already bucking back into the warm mould of your cock—and the next sound that drives past his lips is a loud and unabashed sob of your name. 

you think you might have unlocked something new in your lover.

VIKTOR

“it won’t fit,” viktor slurs, moans tumbling out of his mouth as he gives a shaky roll of his hips. he’s not quite there yet, with only the tip sucked in, but he’s making good progress. “i’m terribly s-sorry, dear. your… appendage. it’s too big.” 

his eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your hands forming a ring around his waist, strong and firm, a warm assurance that there was a possibility… although slight, that he’d make it. 

“it’ll fit,” you murmur, kissing the sensitive spot at the back of his ear, the one that makes him suck in a sharp breath and shudder. “you’re doing very good, love. just… a little more, yeah?” 

viktor looks down. it’s nowhere near a little more. you’re barely halfway in and he’s already thinking about quitting—has been, since the stupidly huge head of your cock breached his rim, making him feel a stretch that no amount of fingers or plastic toys could replicate. it was something extraordinary. overwhelmingly so. 

“please,” he mewls, forehead dropping to rest on your shoulder. “t-touch me? i think i’ll probably, hah, ease up a little if you would… oh, yes. thank you, dear. thank you.” 

it’s… in simple words, too much. you’re usually very considerate, taking your time with him with your fingers, rubbing on his tender walls until he loosens enough for you to slip another one in. the night would then end with you fucking his thighs, sticky and slick with his own cum. it’s good. it’s enough. that was until he started having thoughts of what it would feel like if you were inside him. 

but viktor would’ve never imagined it would be like this. the difference in size was just… comical. you were so deep inside him already, the impossible girth forming an obscene bulge over his abdomen, making him whine with the fullness. if this is already what it feels like to have you inside, then just what would it feel like to have you spill inside him?

he can’t lie—he’s spent nights waiting for you to fall asleep first so that he could scoop up some of the cum you had missed on the sheets, quietly fingering himself with the cold slickness. it didn’t feel right, even if it was yours. it just wasn’t the same. he wanted, no, needed to feel it for himself. 

it doesn’t help, the way you’re stroking him, ever so gentle with him. your huge palm covers his entire length without having to move much, huge thumb rubbing at his leaking tip, and viktor’s never been so hard before in his whole life. he’s so close already, hole fluttering around you uncontrollably, and it’s almost cute how it looks like it’s going to swallow you up. maybe it is. 

maybe it’ll fit. 

“last few inches,” you pant, fingers trembling slightly where you’re struggling not to press bruises into the cup of his hips. “can i-? please, vik. it’s so good. you’re so good. i just need a little more. please, baby.” 

“yes,” viktor blurts out, before he realises just what he agreed to—but within the next second he can feel something abnormally large pushing its way past his tight walls, faster and rougher than before, even as he tries to clench and hold still—it’s mean and a little too much, but then the back of his thighs meets hot skin and he nearly blacks out with the stretch of it all. 

“ngh,” viktor keens, trembling with exhaustion as he tries to settle into your lap comfortably with such a large intrusion within him. “soo full…” 

you sigh in pleasure, hands going back to his hips where they belong, pushing him down until you’re satisfied that he’s properly taken everything you’ve given him. it’s not a demand, viktor thinks, more like a comfort. telling him that you’ve always known he would’ve been able to take you in the first place. that this is where he belongs, filled to the brim with you and you only. 

he lets out a shuddering moan when you start to slowly bounce him on your lap, lifting him up with ease a good inch or two, before rolling your hips to meet his, pushing yourself deeper. “shit, vik…” you groan, and he cries out with every brush against his prostate, the sheer size of you making it impossible to miss it. “you’re so tight, baby… so perfect. i’m right here with you, okay? easy now, you’re doing so good.” 

you’re so good to him as always, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, but it’s different this time, and fuuck. viktor thinks he’s dying with how good it feels. he tries to steer his hips, to actually ride you instead of having you manhandling him up and down your cock, but there’s hardly any friction left now that he’s properly stretched, and any attempt results in him collapsing back to his knees, the pleasure making him weak. 

he settles for hanging onto you, arms wrapping around your neck and choking out little whimpers as you rock upwards into his waiting hole again and again, toes curling and nails scratching red trails down your back with the all-consuming pleasure.

it’s driving him crazy, the fullness, the simple thought of you pumping your seed and sperm into him, of making love with you. it’s nothing like the way it was written in the textbooks he had spent nights researching—it’s beyond anything he would have ever imagined. 

“please,” viktor sobs out, feeling strangely empty every time you pull out halfway, as ironic as it was—as though there was a chance you would leave him fully. the thought of it hurt. if only you could fit inside him forever. if only. “stay…” he cries, “cum inside. m-make me yours.” 

you lean forward, pressing your lips against his in a hurried kiss, at the same time grinding so deep viktor thinks, for a split of a second, that that might be you he’s feeling in his stomach. the broken wail he gives is loud and muffled, and you lap up the drool on the side of his face, watching as your lover’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling of being filled, properly this time, to the brink of spilling.

masterlist!

Really Rally posting PURE GOLD

jake lockley- mistress

from rally: This was written for the beautiful, talented, absolutely amazing soul @silvernight-m for our holiday gift exchange. I had no idea that being in a fandom would be such an important part of my life, and you're such a huge part of that, my friend.

I admire your courage, honesty, and humor. Please scream at me any time you want because I ALWAYS LOVE IT!!!! Thank you for sharing a corner of your life (and pictures of your pets) with me. Also, I went ahead and pasted a mustache on that Jake photo b/c that's how we like 'em.

Summary: Jake & his mistress have a loving, kinky relationship (~1.8k)

---

“Jake, this isn’t a punishment if you ask for it.”

He groans. “I can’t help it. I see you, and I start begging.”

Jake is tied to the bed with Steven’s old restraints. Each of his ankles and wrists snugly secured and pulled apart. Completely at your mercy. The way both of you like it.

You stand at the foot of the bed, arms crossed. “And in your expert opinion, what punishment do you deserve tonight, Jake?”

His cock twitches, already hard and dark, leaking onto his stomach as he lays there helplessly. You’re still dressed in your sweater and pants.

“Don’t know if you noticed, but I grew out my mustache exactly how you like it.”

You walk up the side of the bed slowly, lean forward to give him a gentle pat on the cheek. “And what do you expect me to do with it?”

His hooded eyelids blink at you. “Ride it, mi amor. Obviously.” He licks his lips slowly, pulls at his restraints as if he’d forgotten, for a second, that he’s tied up. “As many hours as you want.”

He grins up at you, but it fades quickly when you don’t respond in kind.

You hold his chin in your hand a little too hard.

“You seem to be forgetting your manners,” you say, steel in every word.

He swallows. “I’m sorry, mistress.”

“Good boy.” You stroke your fingers over his mustache with a sigh. As much as you want to do as he asks, you can’t give in to him. Can’t let him call the shots when he’s the one immobilized and at your mercy. “Jake, do you like touching me?”

You move forward onto the bed, kneeling over him enough so that he gets a eyeful of cleavage.

“Yes, mistress. Greatest privilege of my entire fucking life,” he says.

You smile. “A privilege. A reward, maybe? But you said you wanted to be punished.”

Jake’s eyes dart to your face. He’s caught by his own logic and he knows it. “Uh, mi amor.”

You slap his cheek. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to sting. “No, Jake. You don’t get to act like a desperate little slut and expect me to indulge you. You do what I tell you. If I want you to bark, you bark. If I want you to crawl down the street naked, then you will. If I want you to fuck me until your dick falls of, then I’ll get exactly that. Isn’t that how this works?”

“Yes, but-“

“What the fuck did you just say to me? Were you going to contradict me?”

You back off the bed, standing straighter, looming over him.

“No, mistress. Or, yes, mistress. Fuck.” Jake winces, pulling at the cuffs for real this time. They don’t give. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

“Louder,” you raise your voice.

“I’m sorry,” he almost yells. His chest heaves up and down.

You shake your head. “I’m disappointed.”

A little sound escapes him, almost a whine. His big, brown eyes plead with you. A curl of dark hair is already sticking to his forehead, the rest wild and tangled on the pillow. You tuck a second one underneath so his head is propped up. So he can see down his body and you, when you stand at the end of the bed again.

“Please, I’m sorry. I’ll do anything you want.” He’s calmer now, but you hear the edge in his voice. He needs it now. He needs you to treat him like only you how.

“I like the sound of that.” Your eyes trace his body, lovingly taking in his olive skin, how his muscles tense and tremble, his hips and thick thighs. They settle back on his cock. “That looks almost painful, Jake.”

“It is, mistress,” he pants. “I just want to please you.”

His eyes look down. He’s cowed now, gentler.

Sometimes it takes Jake a few tries to get into the right space to submit to you. But it’s fun for both of you, when you finally break him.

“I want to see you come,” you say with a sweet smile.

His eyes look back up, hopeful.

“Oh no,” you almost laugh, “I’m not going to touch you. That would make it too easy.”

“Mistress, I-“

“And you’re not going to touch yourself either.” You stroke one of his ankles, just above the restraint. “No, Jake, you’re going to lay there, just like that, and you’re going to come for me. If you want to act like a whore, then you’re going to come like one.”

His jaw clenches so tight you almost wonder what kind of argument he’s having with himself (or whomever). It’s not that he’s in pain. It’s not about comfort. He’s frustrated beyond belief. The night hasn’t played out like he wanted it to, and he almost can’t handle it. He doesn’t want to be the brat you’d accused him of being, even though he definitely is.

“You want to stop?” You ask, letting your voice get softer for a second.

He shakes his head, his curly hair brushing back and forth over his forehead. “No, this is fucking great. How’d I ever end up with someone as amazing as you?” He grins, breaking character for a moment before remembering his task, re-focusing. “Okay, mistress, for you, I’ll give it a shot.”

You frown at him. “You’ll do more than give it a shot. Or else I’m going to make you wear a ball gag whenever you’re fronting at home for two weeks.”

Jake doesn’t look scared, not exactly. It’s more anticipation. You can see him doing the math on it. Honestly, he’d probably like to wear the gag. You would too. It’s more fun this way, though.

In the end, he nods. “Okay, I can come for you.” He shifts on the bed. “Mistress, could you keep talking to me? Or yelling at me? The sound of your voice-“

“Would help you get off. So no, Jake. Stop whining and come. Make yourself a pathetic mess for me, baby.” You coo at him.

He hums in his throat, his hips moving ever so slightly. You can only imagine the dirty fantasies he’s conjuring in his mind as his heavy eyelids shut. You see the muscles of his ass clench, his hips rising and falling.

Jake makes a noise of frustration.

“Fuck,” he spits out. His hips sink back down to the bed. He opens his eyes, his breath heavy. “I can’t, mistress. I’m sorry.”

He looks so sad, so angry at himself, that you have to give in a little.

“What were you thinking about?” You ask softly.

Jake’s head shakes subtly.

“Tell me,” you order him.

“The other night. You were sucking Marc off, but you were wearing one of my white button-downs because you were cold. He was so hard on you because you wouldn’t take it off. Your face was a mess. You wanted him to go hard on you, and you wanted to wear a piece of me.” Jake swallows. His cock gets a little harder, so stiff it’s not even touching his stomach anymore. “Marc asked you if you wanted me to front. But you said no. You both did it to torture me. You knew I was watching. I’ve never been so fucking turned on in my life.”

His hips buck up. His head falls back down. He groans loudly.

“You’re right. I am a whore. For you, mistress,” his words barely escape his lips. They’re mostly air as he moves up and down against nothing. Sometimes the tip of his cock hits his stomach and he shakes from the feeling. “Fuck. Fuck. I’m coming. I’m coming for you.”

His hips push high as his hands grab the restraints. He pulls on them, his muscles going tight and flexing as he comes spurts of gorgeous, thick cum onto his own stomach. It drips up his chest, down over his sides, pools onto the bed.

Exhausted, he falls down onto the bed. He tries to catch his breath, a smile on the corner of his lips. “Holy shit, mi amor. Was that good for you?”

You let yourself smile back at him, reaching over to undo the straps on his ankles. “I can’t believe I just stood there and watched that. I wanted to touch you so badly.”

You rub Jake’s ankles, then move to undo his wrists.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“Of course.” His hand cups your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You kiss him on the lips. “I do like your mustache like this.”

Jake shrugs. “I know. Maybe after my shower, I can take you for a ride.”

He wiggles his upper lip, making you laugh. He reaches into the nightstand for a towel from the stack he keeps there. He gives his body a quick wipe down.

“Why don’t you go lie down on the couch? I’ll make you a snack so you have something to do while I clean up and change the sheets,” he says.

“You let me do all of that to you, and somehow, you end up giving me aftercare? Doesn’t seem really fair to you, Jake.”

His dark eyes sparkle at you. He throws the towel into the laundry hamper one-handed. “You’re my soul, my love, my life. You took care of me so well tonight. Let me do something for you. Please,” he winks at you, “mistress.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“I love you, mi amor,” he says, leaning in to kiss you again. But instead of touching his lips to yours, he scrubs his mustache along your cheek. “I’ve got all kinds of plans for this mustache. New Year’s is going to be special this year.”

“You have plans? Jake,” you pat his shoulder lovingly, “that mustache and that face belong to me. This year, next year, every year.”

“I like the sound of that,” he agrees. “You’re going to have hard time topping last year, though, when you had me on my knees for an hour, starting off the year with my tongue-“

“Don’t you worry, Jake. I’ll have no problems topping last year. In fact, I think you’ll enjoy just how I’m going to… top... it.”

His dark eyes go wide in delight. He swings you around in his arms, planting a huge kiss on your lips. “You’re a hell of a woman.”

“I’m going to fuck you until you’re brain dead.”

He growls, squeezing you in his arms. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

Jake settles you on the couch with a movie and your phone, whistling on his way to the shower. When he comes back out, you’re asleep already, but Jake doesn’t wake you. He unfolds a blanket, carefully lays it over your body and kisses the top of your head.

Before you, he wouldn’t have thought twice about going out, killing an hour by punching faces in. Now, though, he’s taking a night off. He settles on the couch, one hand on your sleeping body.

He’s happy to not have to guard every single traveler of the night. He wants to protect you, to watch you, to be there when you wake up. This year, next year, every year, just like you’d promised him.

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please lmk if you'd like to be removed- i promise not to take it personally!

could you write argyle x shy!reader headcanons? i feel like their dynamic would be so cute

I may have gotten carried away 🫣 smutty headcanons under the cut.

Argyle is such a sucker for his shy girl

When he first sees you, he’s immediately dumbstruck

He’s bringing a pizza to your table of friends and rambles about god knows what

“Uh, hey, here’s your pizza. I’m, um, Argyle. If you need anything. Like napkins. I see you, uh, have napkins, but if you need more…I have napkins in the back. Of the store. There’s lots of napkins. No napkin shortage here. It’s sad for the trees but good for, uh, spills.”

He makes you smile without even meaning to

One of your friends goes up to him later and gives him your number

When he calls and asks you out, it’s more rambling where he’s trying to sound casual but utterly fails

“Do you like movies? Yeah, me, too. Oh, hey, we should see one together! Maybe Friday night, if you’re free. Or if not, that’s cool. Well, not cool because I’d be super bummed. But no pressure or anything, man. I mean, woman.”

When you accept, Argyle takes you on a date

He lets you pick the movie

He does the yawn-and-stretch, his heart beating a million miles an hour

And then you carefully snuggle into him and his brain goes HOLY SHIT

Man literally doesn’t move the entire time except to very gingerly take popcorn from the bucket you’re sharing

Once you’re officially together, Argyle introduces you to Jonathan

You’re nervous about meeting his best friend, and he calms you down

“You have nothing to worry about, princesa. Byers’ll be on his best behavior. He knows not to mess with my girl.”

(What you don’t know is that Argyle threatened to cut off Jonathan’s supply of Purple Palm Tree Delight if he made one wrong move.)

Speaking of when you get nervous, especially in social situations, Argyle is the king of forehead kisses

He just goes, “hey, look at me” and then leans in and MWAH on your forehead

Argyle always lets you braid his hair

If you’ve never smoked before, he teaches you how, never laughing when you cough

“Just a little inhale. There ya go, mi querida.”

He loves watching you get comfortable with the people he cares about

The first time you (lovingly) make fun of Jonathan, Argyle bursts out laughing

“Well, you do look like Ringo if his mom gave him a bowl cut!”

Argyle loooooves holding your hand

He always does that little thumb-rubbing thing as a way to remind you that you’re safe with him

NSFW BELOW

You’re not super into PDA, but you do love make-out sessions in the back of his van

The first time you make out with him in the back of his van, he gets really into it

Like, cums in his pants after dry humping for a few minutes

Not so dry after that

One thing Argyle did not expect is how loudly his shy girl moans

You’re breathless and squirming beneath him, arching your back as he pulls you close

When you realize how noisy you’re being, you nervously bite your lower lip, but he takes his thumb and draws your lip from under your teeth

“Even your moans are beautiful, amor. Please let me hear them.”

Always asking you what you like

“Does this feel good? Just wanna make you feel good. Fuck, I’ll do anything for you.”

His favorite is when you straddle his waist, the two of you shotgunning a joint until you’re both too giggly to smoke any more

“I’m gonna kiss those pretty little lips right off of your pretty little face. God, I love you, baby.”

This blog is pro tits and anti Nazi

Butch positivity post for

💖butches who take estrogen 💖

💖Butches who use she/her pronouns exclusively 💖

💖Butches who voice train💖

💖Butches who get breast augmentation 💖

💖Butches who get facial feminization surgery 💖

💖Butches who get vaginoplasty💖

💖Transfem butches in who do none/any/all of the above.💖

You are seen, you are loved, and you are no less valid as a butch or as a lesbian.

To the men who voted for Donald Trump today:

When your girlfriend gets pregnant, and you’re not ready to become a father, and you’re forced into a position that cripples you emotionally, financially and irreversibly, remember: you did this.

When your sister’s pregnancy turns out to be ectopic, and she can’t get the life-saving medical care she needs and dies a completely pointless, preventable death, remember: you did this.

When your 12-year-old daughter is raped by her soccer coach — after he’s legally allowed to strip off her pants and peep at her genitals, because the existence of trans kids terrifies you — and she steals your shotgun and kills herself in your garage, remember, first and foremost: you did this.

Hundreds of thousands of people are going to die because of the decision you made today.

You did that.

Source

GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE

pornstar!moon-boys x fluffer!reader

part two: steven

special shout out to @writefightandflightclub for this masterpiece about feral steven!

a/n: some headcannons bc we filthy up in this bitch >:) this one turned out a bit longer than I anticipated

others: marc | jake | more steven

----

as a fluffer, it's your job to know how to keep the boys interested. each alter has their own preferences:

(NSFW 18+ under the cut)

steven: the sweetheart

GIF by moonxknightx

Steven was the second alter you met. And this time, you were the one that was surprised.

Sweet Steven didn't seem like he had any business being a pornstar, but it turns out he's great at it. And the viewers love him.

Especially the ladies.

He's one of the tamer performers, acting as a gentle lover that provides comforting sex or the shy guy who's inexperienced. Viewers love how unapologetically desperate and pussy-drunk he gets on camera, how the slightest touch can set him off.

His most viewed video is him as a naive professor getting seduced then fucked by a slutty student. Needless to say, in most of his work, he's the one getting fucked, not the other way around.

You don't know why he followed in Marc's footsteps, becoming an adult performer, but it was only a few days after he joined the business that he asked for you. It was puzzling at first, meeting a variation of Marc who shares his face and body, but it was clear that they were quite different.

Unlike Marc, Steven craved softness and wasn't afraid to show it.

He reacts best to praise, gentle touches, and kisses like young lovers on a honeymoon. He likes to feel taken care of, ease into it instead of diving right in.

You found out pretty quick that you have to be more careful with him, one wrong move and he's spilling in your hand, eyes glistening with humiliation and embarrassment. Then it's another 15 minutes before the next session.

His sessions alway start with a greeting. Even after all this time, he's still very shy around you, acting like it's a first date rather than a quick fluffing sesh.

"Uh, hello!" He literally waves at you and you're not even three feet away.

"Hey Steven." Your voice is soft with him, as sweet as honey and as tempting as nectar. It's the first step to luring him in.

He always gives you that look even before you step into the room, one of longing and anticipation. Like you're the best part of his day. No wonder his partners are always falling for his shy smiles and dreamy eyes.

You sit on one of the couches in the prep room, gesturing to the spot right next to you, "Come 'ere, babe." He loves it when you call him sweet names like that.

You start with a kiss:

Your hand cradles his jaw and he nuzzles into it, his eyes shut, ready for anything you'll give him. You hear him sigh as you slowly lean in and press your lips gently against his, showering his mouth with small pecks, just enough to leave him wanting.

He whines when you pull away, eyes opening ever so slightly to see where you're going. You barely pull away enough to take your shirt off before he's pulling you back in for hungry kiss, hand on the back of your neck.

Steven can actually be quite demanding when he really wants something. And though most sessions consist of him obediently sitting next to you while you squeeze and tease him, sometimes he loses control.

He loves your taste, the smell of your perfume, and the weight of your body against his. His hands glide and mold over every inch of your body, attempting to memorize your figure for the hundredth time, as your hips roll against him.

You've found the best way to get him hard but not ruined is a few minutes of making out and clothed grinding. He's usually already plenty hard after the first few innocent kisses, but to stay hard, he needs physical touch. Closeness.

You.

But you have to strategically measure it out to get the best results.

The first time, you experimented by giving him head, but he physically couldn't stop himself from fucking your throat. He came with a cry, hand clutched desperately in your hair, forcing your lips to meet the tan skin of his hips. You're sure you'll have that image in your mind for the rest of your life.

Anyone who's witnessed Steven cum first-hand is as lucky as they get. His whimpers could inspire a nun to leave the church.

The second time, you gave him a handjob. He spurted against his t-shirt within a handful (lol) of minutes moaning your name, thighs trembling against yours. You also learned that he's not one to be edged unless the director wants him with tear-stained cheeks and reddened eyes. (sometimes they do though!)

Finally you figured out the best bet: kisses, nuzzles, touches, and grinding.

Steven whines out as you lave your tongue softly against his sensitive neck. His hips attempt to cant with yours, grinding his hardness into your heated center.

"Please, darling. Grind harder on me, I-I need it."

"Mm...No can do Stevie," Your hips raise so he's barely touching you, depriving him of much needed stimulation. "Can't have you busting in your shorts, can I?"

"No no no, ughnn..." He tries to hold your waist and pull you further against him, but you yank his wrists away, pinning them against the couch. "Please, I promise I won't. Jus' need a little more, is all."

You giggle at his frustration, but only answer with a peck on his lips before pulling away. You can actually hear him whimper when you roll off of him.

"I think you're ready, Steven."

"N-no. Not yet. I think I still need more. Yeah, a bit more will do me good!"

You perk an eyebrow as you consider the large tent at the front of his shorts. He looks up at you sheepishly.

"Yeah, I don't think so."

Doctor's Orders

Blue Jones x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 18: Dacryphilia

Summary: Blue's been sent to an asylum himself for his crimes.

A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry). Once again, what have I done?

Warnings: oh dead, blood, injuries (Blue gets cut by an orderly), Blue having a bit of a blood kink, Blue being a masochist, p in v sex, kissing, swearing, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1209

Blue whines, tears streaming down his face. There’s blood in his mouth from his split bottom lip. He struggles on the bed, his wrists and ankles strapped down. 

The orderly gives him a gruesome smile and then starts slicing into his side with a scalpel. 

Blue screams, swears and growls. “You fucking-”

“Oh, come on,” the orderly tuts, “I’ve read ‘bout all those things you’ve done, all those things you did to those girls. You think this is any different?” 

Blue shrieks his throat raw, thrashing. 

“Shouldn’t have spat on me in line today, Jones.” He giggles. 

“Let me the fuck out.” 

“Language.” He tuts, “Don’t make me gag you.” 

“I-”

The door to Blue’s room opens with a slam, and the orderly jumps, the scalpel drops to the floor. 

He freezes when he sees you, arms crossed. 

“Doc, I… I can explain.” He holds his hands up, visibly shaking. 

“Sutton,” you clench your jaw. “What do you think you’re doing here?” 

“I… I…” 

“Torturing patients.” You shake your head as you step into the room, three orderlies follow you. Blue recognises them as part of your ‘personal guard’. “Take him to Dr Bateman.” 

Sutton gasps, shaking his head rapidly. “No, please, no! I didn’t, you can’t-”

The other orderlies grab his arms. 

“Oh, I can’t?” You ask, the sound of your voice is almost kind. 

He swallows, tears in his eyes. “Please.” 

You nod your head to the side and your orderlies drag him screaming from the room. Slowly you shut the door and turn back to Blue. 

You take him in for a moment, the cut on his side, the tears in his eyes, how he’s rubbed his wrists raw trying to escape. 

He sniffs and gives you a soft look. “Thanks, Doc. ‘Preciate it.” 

He lays limp as you walk over and quietly untie his wrists and ankles. 

“What did you do to Sutton?” 

He pauses, anxiety twisting in his belly, “I spat on him in line up.” 

You smile and Blue laughs once. 

Lightly, you touch around the cut. It’s not deep thankfully. “I’ll take you to medical.”

Blue groans and takes a sharp gasp of breath. “Wait, Doc.” He grabs your wrist and presses your hand firmer, makes your fingers skate across the wound. He shivers. 

You pause and then look at his dark eyes and the quickly hardening bulge in his asylum issued sweats. “This turn you on?” You ask with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

He moans, louder this time as you press firmer against the cut, blood oozing over your fingers. 

“A bit,” he bites his lip. “That and,” he swallows, “You coming in on a white horse to save me.” 

“I’ll have to add this to your masochist notes.” You said deadpan, and press harder. 

He swears under his breath, wriggling as his cock fills dizzyingly quickly. “I can see it in your face, you like it too.” 

“I never said I wasn’t a sadist.” You smile.

“You like it, like seeing me crying and bleeding all over the place. Like seeing me weak.” He leans up, kissing you roughly. “Like it that I’m at your mercy.” 

“Did you ever think that I like it when you’re excited?” You bite his bottom lip and he groans, his eyes rolling back. 

“Please fuck me, however you want. Get your fingers wet with my blood and then shove them up my ass, I don’t fucking care.” 

You grab his jaw, holding him in place as he wriggles and writhes excitedly. 

“If you don’t behave, I’ll send you to Dr Bateman too.” 

Blue moans. “Fuck, yes.” He shivers as you push him back down onto the bed and fully pull off his t-shirt. “Did he watch the last video?” 

“He did.” You pull down his sweats.

“Did he like it?” Blue asks eagerly. 

You smile. “Very much.” 

“You think he’ll watch this one?” He keeps his eyes fixed on you eagerly as you climb on top of him, straddling his hips and pulling your skirt up around your waist. 

“I’m sure of it.” 

Blue whines, reaching out to squeeze your thighs and caress your bare pussy. “Fuck.” He glides his fingers through your folds, groaning louder at the wetness he finds. “Can you sit on my face?” 

“After.”

He shivers and nods eagerly. “I’ll clean you up, I promise.” 

“Good boy Blue,” you mutter and smile when he moans. You raise yourself up and take his hot, hard length in hand, lining yourself up before you sink down. 

Blue screams out, digging his fingers into your inner thighs, his toes curling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You grin at him as he whines, pressing hard against the cut once more as you grind and bounce. 

Swears fall endlessly out of his mouth, so fast it doesn’t seem like he is drawing breath. 

“Good?”

“So good Doc, so fucking good. This pussy’s gonna kill me.” He gasps, rocking with you. 

“Tell me why this,” you dig your finger into his wound slightly and he moans sweetly, “is so good?”

“Just issss.” Blue bucks up unthinkingly, his body moving on autopilot. 

You press deeper and he jolts, nearly coming on the spot. “Tell me.”

He whines desperately, fresh tears in his eyes. 

You slow your hip, take your hand away from him.

“Nooo, no, no, no, no,” he grabs at your hand, trying to press it back to his side as he jerks his lips. 

You give him a light smack around the face as he moans low.

“Again Doc, please.”

“If you’re not going to tell me why, then I’ve had enough of your speaking.” You say firmly. 

He groans again, whining, and you shove your bloody fingers into his mouth.

His eyes widen, his tongue flicking against your skin as you push them further in. The sounds he lets out are sinful as he sucks, rolling and rocking as you move with him. 

You press your thumb against his bloody lip and he sobs in pleasure as the split widens. He tenses, his eyes rolling back slightly and you know he’s close. 

You pull your fingers from his mouth with a pop and lightly smack his face, hitting the opposite cheek.

“Doc, dooccc,” he whimpers. “Gonna come, I can’t,” he cries out when you lean forward and grab his chin, squeezing his jaw until he opens his mouth wide with a sob. 

He holds his tongue out and you spit into his mouth. Blue swallows eagerly, your saliva mixing with the blood from his lip and the weight in his stomach snaps. 

Pleasure paralysis him as he comes, pumping hot and thick deep inside you until he feels lightheaded from screaming. 

He collapses completely onto the bed, going limp for a second as he breathes hard and sweat rolls down his skin.

You stroke his face, kissing his temple and murmuring soft words in his ear. 

“Doc,” he takes hold of your arm, his voice groggy, “Come sit on my face, you haven’t had a good time yet.” 

“Shh,” you soothe, patting his hair. “We can do that in a minute, I want you to relax first.”

“Doc-”

“Doctor’s orders.” 

He smiles softly at your stern tone and presses his face further into your touch. 

Thank you for reading!

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NEEDED this

Soap is the last person anyone would expect to want a wife as desperately as he does but oh. Does that boy think about marriage more than anything else.