Tumpik
#absolutely not
kedreeva · 1 day
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today when I got home, I parked my car and one of the cats that hangs around my yard (stray? outdoor cat? feral? nuisance, is what it is, and a direct danger to my birds) was in my fenced backyard area. Saw me coming and took off bounding at Top Catte Speed because every time I see another fucking cat in my yard, I chase it off yelling and clapping. Took off so fast it did not see the fence coming. Barreled straight into it, pinged off it like a high-speed roomba, and began running a new direction. A minute later I saw him trotting to the neighbor's in the distance, dignity in shambles.
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yeyinde · 2 days
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okay but girldad!price stands over his newborn daughters and cries 9/10 times because theyre so small and how did you guys make something so beautiful? he doesnt think he deserves this so he’s always holding one of the girls just in case its the last time
this is so adorable!!! and immediately rushing home to see them. giving himself a moment to just watch them as they sleep, knowing that this is the reason he does what he does, and so other people don't have to worry about losing their family. they break his heart because it's never guarantee he'll always come home, but they also reinforce his conviction to make sure the world they grow up in is better, and safer.
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animate-mush · 1 month
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Well, while we're waiting for Packige (may contain Dracula) here's a thought
Do you think there's a chance Jonathan is feeding her from a cup?
We're getting very little of their activity, but we did get the note that Mina's color is returning, and today (at some point) we're going to hear about Jonathan's ice-cold hands...
When Lucy was bitten, they could just put the blood back in, right, and it was fine, or if Dracula left her alone for a few days she would grow back her own blood. But after the 17th, neither of those things were happening. She continued to waste without being fed on, and the transfusion did her no good. And the difference was that she was by then actively turning into a vampire.
Now Mina was never drunk as low as Lucy, but she is very much actively turning into a vampire. It's possible she may no longer be able to regenerate her own blood. And they believe this is reversible, but only if she doesn't die. It is absolutely imperative that Mina be kept alive long enough for them to murder Dracula.
So if she can't make her own blood and she can't accept transfusions but she starts wasting anyway, there's one more option for replenishing her blood supply. And van Helsing talked about how blood makes the vampire thrive, and Jonathan has seen first hand its restorative effect on Dracula, and they all agree that she must not die before they accomplish their mission and it's worth a shot.
And so he's like, think of it as medicine. Just to get us to our goal. It's no different from what Arthur and the others did for the woman they loved, just a slightly different application of the same principle. But you have to keep up your strength. We don't want to worry the others.
And Mina's color starts to return. And Jonathan's hands are like ice.
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ohhoneywoman · 4 months
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His hairrrrrr !!! 🥰😍🥳🥵
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ruhrohherewego · 10 months
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robin as a concept is genius because imagine getting your ass kicked by a fucking tater tot TWELVE YEAR OLD. i’d never recover. fucking HUMILIATING.  never committing crime again.
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emry-stars-art · 30 days
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they're judging you
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michshlo · 22 days
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Yesterday I learned that popcorn actually dates back thousands of years.
So it would be historically correct if in season 2, whenever Ed and Stede have A Moment, the camera would zoom out to reveal the rest of the crew watching them like this:
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pinkinthenightdean · 5 months
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im going to kill whoever it was that made him do this
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spookberry · 8 months
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Needed to nail down my design for Spectra for uhh reasons
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thoodleoo · 9 months
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FUCKING HELLO??????
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fallen-elytrian · 16 days
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Antarctic commune survived the Nuke btw
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ioveaffairs · 2 months
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“It is ill luck to look upon the face of death.”
House of the Dragon (2022) Eve Best as Rhaenys Targaryen
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icys-junkyard · 5 months
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Ingo was gonna listen to the adults and only get Pokéballs once they were a bit older, but... nah. Cheering Emmet up is far more important,
1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6
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thebibliosphere · 10 days
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This is reminding me of rumor that someone mailed Gerard way a physical copy of some pretty gross porn of him and someone related to him - like put that shit in his fucking mailbox
That’s awful. And also sexual harassment. Which is a thing I think a lot of people don’t realize.
It’s absolutely fine to find people you don’t know attractive and explore that attraction in the privacy of your head (and in the case of rpf, behind a filter that warns for explicit content that doesn’t shove it directly in the person’s face).
It’s another to go up to them in a random setting and showcase your most explicit thoughts and expect, what, approval? Reciprocation? Or is it thrill seeking to just get a negative reaction out of the person?
Either way not cool.
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dapperenby13 · 2 months
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How does Soukoku pull up to battle one might ask?
On chuuya’s motorcycle of course.
You might be asking, where is dazai?
He’s in the side car with his knees pulled up to his chin in an attempt to fit his stupid long limbs.
Here I have a point of reference
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Your welcome
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ikissdin · 3 months
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the cowboy next door 03:
ignorance is bliss ♡
this is part three of the cowboy next door. read part one here and part two here.
pairing: jack daniels x f!reader
summary: if your neighbour is anything, it’s a mystery. as a young, sheltered girl raised in suburban florida, it took you a bit longer than some to clue into the dangers of pining after someone as strange as him. too bad you ran out the door so fast that you forgot your keys!
warnings: dubious consent, coercion, manipulation, threats, manhandling, spanking with a belt, bondage, dry humping, jealousy, orgasm denial, size kink, daddy kink, dumbification, degradation, dacryphilia, spit, desperate whiskey …
word count: 5.3k
authors note: i was going to abandon this blog due to how big of a block i’ve had but the love u guys have been giving this fic is so sweet n makes me so so so happy n i couldn’t leave it so open-ended (already working on the next chapter ♡ !!!) p.s. … if u guys have any questions or thoughts on creep!jack feel free to send them in i’d love to hear ^__^
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there was a lot that you didn’t know about your neighbour, jack. you didn’t know how old he was, where he had earned that thick blanket of scars or why he had willingly settled down in your bland little cul-de-sac of suburban florida, and you definitely didn’t know why you, of all people, had taken a starring role in his depraved fantasies. in fact, there was too much that you didn’t know about your neighbour, jack. you didn’t know how long he had been eyeing you, where his intentions lied, or if there were other girls in other small towns before you. however, you did know that his sheets buried you in the warm scent of clean cotton, and his lips tasted of spearmint gum and tennessee whiskey. there were no photos in his home, but the plethora of classic paintings told you he took somewhat of an interest in art. he liked his liquor, too, you observed from the abundance of bottles at his bar. these small scraps alluding to who jack was underneath his browbeat facade weren’t enough for you. they once left plenty of leeway for your dirty reveries, but now, from the hasty escalation of insatiable glances to forbidden touches, he was no longer an object of desire or a man to ogle but a walking void of mystery. contrariwise, he had the golden opportunity to observe things within you that none other had before— you watch pixar films in search of child-like comfort when you’re sad, you wake up not a second before or after sunrise, you always go for walks right before it rains, you read for an hour every night, even with heavy eyelids and a mind thick with sleep. jack had compiled a never-ending list of the little things that made you you, while yours was bare and longing for the quietest whisper of who he was. 
when you caught yourself looming in the curiosity of the man slumbering at your side, you knew you were in trouble— you’d slept together twice. the idea of tripping over yourself like a schoolgirl with hearts stamped on her retinas made you physically recoil. perhaps it was ordinary. after all, you’d given a part of yourself to him, debatably the most important part of a girl. you had wasted your teenage years pining for chemistry half as palpable as that you shared with jack, but you always opted to stay within the comfort of your bedroom walls over joining your group of smirnoff-drunk friends at party after party. daydreams always seemed safer than the disappointment of reality. you wondered if jack had that on his list: you were scared. you were scared he didn’t want you beyond your body or that he wouldn’t be everything you had hoped, or even worse, he was. so, to protect your spirit, or perhaps your pride, you reasoned that the last thing a grown man would want is a quick, young lay trailing hot on his heels like a lost puppy.
although, if you had learned anything about jack, it was that he liked to sleep in on sundays. your body had naturally woken hours ago, torn and paralyzed— waking up next to a man that wasn’t the harry styles poster you had mounted to your wall in seventh grade was definitely a first, and so was the thorny, age-old question of did you stay where you were, imprisoned in the cozy, robust arms of your sweet-talking neighbour, or did you crawl out of bed to attempt beating your parents home and risk waking him? you pondered, staring at the window opposite the bed. just what would your parents think of you sneaking around with a man who not only was likely as old as your father but had also gone as far as to use your innocence in his favour? the more you thought about it, and the longer you stared at that evocative pane of glass, the more nauseous you felt. ignorance is bliss, you decided as you shimmied your way out of his arms and, ultimately, his home. you were there to greet your mother and father with a fresh stack of pancakes and you were rewarded with two unsuspecting smiles. 
to allow the night you’d spent together to fade into a distant memory, you attempted to avoid your neighbour for a few days, but days turned weeks and weeks to a month. you would seldomly catch him doing yard work or fixing up his perfectly pristine bronco from between your blinds. his eyes would wander each time, and you would know he was waiting for you to come skipping out of your front door and right back into his arms. but every time you spotted him leaving his house, your entire body would be draped in dread. while jack’s little traps were certainly alluring, you weren’t as oblivious as you appeared. sure, it had taken you a moment to grasp the idea that maybe stalking and manipulation weren’t such green flags, after all, but you knew that it was wrong when the epiphany came. he was a seasoned, mature man, who was using your trusting and naive nature to his advantage, which was wrong, right? wrong or right was indeed the question at the forefront of your mind, and it flustered you beyond belief. every night you abandoned your panties on your bedroom floor and every night you tried not to think of him and every night you failed. his words echoed in the back of your mind like a parasite, and the heavy burden of shame you were slammed with every time you sobered up from your lust-clouded judgement was unbearable. the lines between fantasy and reality were beginning to make you positively loathe him. why did you want him to treat you like a prize to be won? why did you feel flattered by the lengths he was going to just to get you undressed? there were so many aspects of this silly little push-and-pull that the two of you shared that were so vile, and maybe it was because you were so sick and tired of playing the part of virtue, but you didn’t want to run, you just knew better to. while you might’ve liked whatever game jack was playing, you couldn’t know for sure that that’s all it was— a game. 
after you’d gone so long without seemingly being spotted, and after he’d gone so long without backing you into a corner, you lulled yourself into the delusion that you and he were no longer. pent up and pissed off? very. morally cleansed? possibly. where ducking behind your father's car every time you saw the slightest ghost of a shadow move from jack’s home made you feel rather childish, you stopped allowing him to consume your every waking minute. you finally resumed to tending your garden and reading on the front step. 
so there you sat, nose shoved into a textbook and hand working rapidly across a mess of a page. you were finally offering your focus to your studies, where it had been since occupied for so long. you were so concerned with the /page turner/ that was plato’s republic that you barely caught the sound of your mother’s cheerful voice. lovely, you thought. you had company— “honey, could you come downstairs, please?” 
letting out a more than a dramatic sigh, you hauled yourself out of the uncomfortable desk chair you adorned and descended the stairs. to welcome you was the winsome grin of none other than your persistent neighbour. 
for whatever reason, you put it past jack to let you go without a fight. on second thought, you may have been oblivious as you appeared. 
“well, hey there, kid.” he gave a curt wave of his hand from the doorway. he wore a pair of denim jeans that hugged his thighs in all the right places, matched with a short-sleeved, grey button-up that tightened at his pectorals and a standard set of cowboy boots. his hat was nowhere to be found, you observed. you couldn’t help but think that he might’ve put a lot of time and consideration into the outfit. you felt underdressed in your sweatpants and tank top. 
“hi.” you replied meekly, frustratingly unsure if you were irritated, intimidated, or aroused standing before him. you even throw ashamed into the hat as your cheeks grew hot and your eyes trained down to your feet. you sure were tough when he wasn’t right in front of you, weren’t you? 
“jack was just stopping by, said he found some keys in his driveway.” your mother explained. “they can’t be yours, can they? you used them just the other weekend.” 
while you fought off a sickening pit of panic in the depths of your stomach, jack only smiled. to your mother, unwary, but to you, like a sadistic piece of shit. he liked to see you sweat, to see your eyes rapidly flicker between the two as if an answer would magically appear before you. he was practically stroking himself, waiting for whatever lame excuse you could muster up. 
“oh,” you breathed, dropping down the last few steps to retrieve the “missing” keys. “right, i forgot to tell you, i accidentally brought them to class with me the next day. i lost them, thought i’d left them on campus.”
your mother let out a quiet gasp, a hand flying to her chest that had you fighting off the urge to roll your eyes. “it could’ve been anyone that found those keys.” she scolded you, turning to a nodding jack with a beyond thankful smile. “aren’t we so lucky to have a neighbour like him, huh, honey? what do you say?”
if only it was still socially acceptable for you, a twenty year-old girl, to run up into your bedroom and lock the door. he knew you knew. he knew you saw those keys on his bedside, and he knew it scared you off. for some reason, that wasn’t enough to keep him from coming back. 
“thank you, jack.” you managed through clenched teeth, watching his irksome grin grow. you waited for him to cough up the spares, but instead, he gestured back toward his house. 
“kept them inside, didn’t wanna risk losing them again, right?” 
so that was the catch. he didn’t come to rub his presence in your face, but to force you out of your safe haven. if you thought you were angry before, you were fuming now. however, you didn’t want jack to know he had gotten to you, and you definitely didn’t want your mother onto you. so, you sucked it up and jammed your feet into the closest pair of shoes. 
ignorance is bliss. jack was soaking in the delusion that you were wrapped around his finger, but when he woke to an empty bed and was stared back at by your securely shut blinds for days on end, he knew you were frightened. he played along at first— pretending he didn’t see you slipping behind trees when you heard his strident suv approaching from down the street or seeing the blur that was you practically bolting from the bus to your house, but it got old. the pride he felt swell in his chest was compelling, and he was only a tad bit ashamed to admit it. 
there was silence as you crossed into his lawn. it was such a heavy silence that the muffled sound of a startling ding! practically knocked you on your ass the second you entered the doorway of his home. 
“oh, you know what?” jack threw one hand up into the air, knocking it off the top of his head and back down onto his jutted-out hip. “i forgot i left my dinner in the oven. i finally got me one of those timer thingamajigs. they’re real helpful, y’know?” 
you stared at him blankly as he sauntered backwards toward his kitchen, gesturing toward his staircase. “they’re upstairs on my nightstand.” he directed. you didn’t move.
“i’ll stay here.” 
all you received in return was a chortle. your determination amused him. his arms swung up and crossed over his chest with a knowing smile. “oh, come on, honey. i’m doin’ you a favour here. i don’t want those keys fallin’ into the wrong hands.” his tone was taunting. he found it cute you stood your ground. he expected you were being faced with some kind of moral dilemma— you liked how he made you feel, he knew that for sure, but with how good you’ve been your entire life, you knew better than to be okay with how he made you feel.
“i’ll stay here.” you repeated, you assumed much to his distaste. and yes, he did notice how your tone faltered compared to the first declaration.
 however, he just nodded, taking a few slow steps back. “well, i’m not in favour of starving, so i’ll be a minute.” jack winked, disappearing into his kitchen. you were growing impatient. you had two options, but unfortunately, after quick consideration, dashing out the door and leaving your keys in his care certainly couldn’t be one of them. he knew that. so, correction, you had one option. you zipped up the steps, fists balled at your sides, with the ambition that you would be in and out before he even opened the “oven door”.
your aspirations were deemed unrealistic when you reached his bedside and… nothing. you scrambled in search of the keys, naturally scanning the room one time, two times, three times. your eyes circled back to the window parallel to yours every time. you would give him one thing; he sure did teach you a lesson. of course, your shutters were closed, and you had every intention of keeping them that way.
“like the view?” a familiar southern drawl forced the hair of your neck to stand on end. 
when you didn’t reply, jack didn’t have to wonder if he had paralyzed you in fear or if you really wanted to hear what he had to say next. sure, maybe his methods were a bit radical, but you liked it, didn’t you? he’d effortlessly convinced himself that he was doing you a favour by coercing you into, what he thought to be, your most deviant daydreams— you wanted this, he told himself every time he sank into the comfy memories of your window ajar. he could see it in the way your posture shifted downwards and your eyes pooled with those sweet, desperate tears. you just needed a little push, that was all. maybe you didn’t know it yet, and jack, being the observant, understanding man he was, knew what was best for you. he was best for you. 
“trust me, i did, too,” he spoke over the unsteady sound of your breathing, taking a few leisurely steps in your direction. your back was to him, but he could practically feel the way your gaze softened. it felt as if it was in your nature to melt down to his feet and listen to every word as if it were ultimate. 
warmth spread across the back of your neck, which jack’s hand engulfed, and you cursed yourself for instinctively leaning back into his touch. it was your turn to feel jack’s grin radiate from behind you. you thought yourself so easy, and it nearly brought tears of humiliation to your eyes. 
his grip on the back of your neck tightened in search of leverage. soon, he was forcing your feet forward and your forehead into the icy glass of his window. “that was until you locked me out, hm?” you were unsettled by the image of you sprawled out, naked, across your bed and jack, gawking in the very place you stood with his cock heavy in his hand. 
“not very nice of you, was it, doll?” he whispered. “angry because i didn’t come crawling back to fuck this cunt again like you wanted me to?” 
the word “stop” burned out on the tip of your tongue and down the back of your throat like a shot of rubbing alcohol when you swallowed it. you whimpered instead, eyes squeezing shut in both regret and shame. you didn’t want him to stop. you weren’t sure who you despised more for it— you or him. 
“throwin’ a little hissy fit like the little girl you are, hm?” jack had since dipped his head down, and the hair of his moustache tickled where your neck and jaw connected. you craved for him to press his lips to the sensitive flesh of your pulse, but he never did. 
it made him feel high— the scent of you, yes, but knowing that your silence swallowed you in nothing but complete and utter quandary made him stiff. did you fall into the comfort of your “good girl” guise, or did you allow the morbid thoughts that spent years gnawing at your equanimity win? did you let jack win? he could tell you thought about it as if your body had much of a say in the matter, and fuck, did it ever make his head spin. 
“it could’ve been anyone that found those keys.” he murmured in repetition of your mother. “aren’t you so lucky to have a neighbour like me?” if it was a threat or a gentle reminder, you couldn’t be sure, but the heat developing between your legs and the guilt bubbling in the back of conscience was undeniable.
“i could’a done anything.” his voice lowered an octave, “and don’t assume i didn’t think of it.” 
“you’re a creep.” you mustered out, strained, and when you half-expected this to result in you plummeting toward the door, you only heard a mere chuckle.
“sure i am,” he agreed. “but you know what’s even worse? you like it. hell, you love it, darlin’, and you can’t even admit it to yourself. need me to take it from you, can’t do anything that requires that empty little brain of yours, can you?” it was when you heard his breathing heavy that you realized how much he’d truly allowed you to affect him. before, it felt as if it were a challenge to coax anything out of him apart from a string of dirty words, but with you finally cowering right in front of him after lasting a month without even the slightest peak between your shutters, he felt like he was going to explode. “that’s how badly you need me, isn’t it? you need me?”
your lips were pressed into a thin line. he let out a lengthy sigh. thankfully, he wasn’t closed off to other approaches. 
“i thought you were my good girl. what happened, baby?” his tone shifted as if he were reassuring a sullen child, attempting to assuage whatever worries kept you from ripping off your top. he used his free hand to stroke the back of his knuckles against your cheek. “you called me daddy, didn’t you mean that?” 
you sighed, and while it wasn’t a moan, he knew that big girl facade was fading with each word he uttered. he almost sounded fearful when he asked, “don’t you know what could’ve happened if i left you out there in the rain, so late at night?” 
“yeah,” you choked out, almost sadly, and it nearly made him hesitate. nearly. 
“so, don’t you think you need me, baby?” jack was almost pleading, and it made you tremble just to hear. he just wanted you so badly. he wasn’t manipulative or controlling; he just wanted you so bad, right? “god, sugar, it hurts me when you say you don’t.” 
and so you whined, and he felt relief wash over his body like a warm blanket. 
“didn’ daddy make you feel good?” he rushed out, nervous he’d miss his chance if you came to the senses he was trying so hard to suppress. the hand that wasn’t clawing at your neck fell from your face to your waist to the swell of your ass, soothing the clothed skin with his large palm. “should i remind you? is that what you want?” 
the question made you feel like you had a choice, and that’s precisely what jack wanted, but, still, arousal flooding your underwear and all, you couldn’t bring yourself to bob your head up and down. 
“what, is it some boy at school? that why you won’t let me fuck my cunt?” never had you heard such squalor in jack’s tone, even when he was degrading you with the nastiness names you’d ever dreamt of.
“no!” you sputtered, ready to pour out weeks worth of contemplation. you were cut short when jack sent you flying back into his bed with a forceful tug of his arm. 
his hands were soon after preoccupied with the thick, encrusted silver plate that hung low on his hips. his pace was sluggardly, giving you time to anticipate what presumably followed. your legs naturally squeezed shut, but when the leather of his belt fell free of the loops of denim, he folded it in his fist.
“no kid could ever fill you up the same way i do, i don’t have to tell you that, do i?” he asked, quite rhetorically, as he casually plopped down at the end of the cushy mattress. he grabbed you by the back of your shirt and forced you over his lap where he stripped your bottom half bare. you didn’t have much time to protest before a wicked smack! sucked the air from the room. your hips jolted upward and you gasped. 
“you gonna take those blinds down for me, sugar?” he asked, pacifying the sore skin with the thick pad of his thumb. when you didn’t answer, he drew back the strap and let it fall heavy on your skin again, and again, and again, until you couldn’t feel your legs, and the only sound that you could muster was a body-racking sob. the flesh of your bottom was cherry-coloured and beginning to purple in each place that the brunt of the hide cracked. it stung, but all you felt was fortunate that he had taken the liberty to set the emblemed clasp aside. “i’m not going to stop until you say yes.”
your desire was beginning to fog your acuity. you thought your leaking core was enough of an answer, but no, jack needed to hear you say it. when you chose silence, you felt his arm raise again, grip so tight the blood vessels in his neck had started to protrude. “i’ll take them down!” you crumbled, clawing at the thigh your wet cheek chafed against with each slap. your body tensed in preparation, but nothing.
“there’s my girl,” he let out a huff of relief. he wasn’t fooling anyone, though, with the way his bulge poked into the soft pudge of your side.
“what would your daddy think, hm?” jack punctuated his supercilious words with an abrupt haul at your hips. positioned on your back, jack wrestled his way between your legs. next, he trapped both of your hyper hands in only one of his and enveloped your wrists in the brown leather of his belt with the other. using his teeth, he secured the bond with an abrasive tug. if you weren’t so concerned with how rough the texture was against your flesh, you’d wonder how he was so proficient at such an act. he continued, “of his sweet little girl fucking the old man next door?fantasizing about him with your legs spread and your window open like a whore, needy for attention for weeks?” one palm retreated to your knee to jostle your legs further open, the other pushed at your restraints to keep you from shifting. “you think he’d like it if i told him that?” 
your face burned with humiliation as you squeaked out a diffident “no”, and with that, he drove his clothed length into your bare, weeping heat. your fingers spread under the pressure of his weight, back arched and hips nudged up into his— you’d long lost your willpower to deny the sickening salacity that surged between your thighs. you wanted him, and you decided to hate yourself for it. you were the one who craved to please him. you were the one who wanted his praises and whispers of validation. you were the one whose head span every time he touched you.
you gave your body over to him with wanton moans and groans, absentmindedly forcing your weight up into his groin. your beaten bottom burned with every thrust of his hips, but the soothing of the heft of his cock against your aching entrance was enough to keep you from trying to escape from under him. 
“didn’ya miss me?” he huffed out. he had collapsed onto you, hips rocking back and forth in one fluid motion. you felt like you were being crushed underneath him— you weren’t sure he could mould his body any closer to yours. “because i did, i missed my girl so much.” 
your common sense had long been lost and jack’s tone alone had tears falling freely from your eyes. “missed you, daddy.” you would’ve said anything if it meant getting his pants off— his dark wash denim was gathering slick at the zipper. while the cold metal nicked your clit so deliciously, you wanted to feel nothing more than the gut-wrenching stretch of his stiff member within the warmth of your walls. and even though your words had his hips stuttering into your cunt, unlike him, you wouldn’t be feeling anything close to the reminisce of a climax tonight. 
“i know you did, princess.” jack practically cooed. he began to mouth at your jaw, obscene sounds of licking and suckling serving as background music to your mindless babbling. his tongue was hot and wet, but it made you shiver as strings of drool trailed down the sides of your neck. “feels so good, doesn’t it? just needed jack to take care of you, that’s all. such a fuckin’ bitch when you don’t get your way.” 
your pleas to be stuffed and used were reciprocated with nothing but the torturing sound of fabric to skin. “you belong to me. you understand?” he’d never yearned for something so strongly— to hear those words, i belong to you, leave those sweet lips of yours. desire physically burned in his chest. he started to slow his pace, digging his crotch into yours to the point where you could feel the tumefied veins of his cock drag against your ever-needy hole. “please, let me hear you say it.” the desperation in his voice made you crumble underneath him.
to do absolutely anything jack asked of you in this moment felt innate. you’d long forgotten the “missing”, shiny pair of keys and his ever “broken” printer. you’d forgotten how so sickeningly wrong it was to be so vulnerable underneath him, half-naked and fiending for more. but how could something so morally wicked feel so good? why would you ever want to run from this feeling ever again? you wanted him, you needed him. and god, he hadn’t even taken his clothes off.
“i belong to you.”
jack thought you were so adorably docile. he knew you would’ve said anything as if your life depended on it if it meant he didn’t move from between your legs. he was gaining in speed again, and his grip tightened around your wrists. each powerful jerk of his hips forced an involuntary grunt from the depths of your chest. his core begged him to stop, but he was so overcome with need that the only thing he could feel was the persistent pulse of his cock. “that’s right,” he panted, thighs taut and tense. he was going to cum, that son of a bitch. 
“can i—“ 
“no.”
“but—“ 
“you’re speakin’ back to me with the mouth i shoved my cock in?” jack slapped a hand over your mouth, gripping the fat of your face so cruelly you were surprised that your cheekbones didn’t shatter. he brushed his lips against the shell of your ear. the threat of his next words made your chest feel light and your stomach twist. you felt absolutely powerless. 
“if you even as much as think to cum, so help me god,” he was grunting through gulps of air. “i will spend every single night of your worthless existence finally putting you to good use— i’ll fuck this pussy of mine until you can’t beg me to stop anymore, until you hate me with every fibre of your being. i’ll make you wish you never fucking met me.” his words carried such conviction, and as much as you wanted to let go of that infernal knot in your tummy and test his word, you were just scared enough of him to not put it past him. “you’re mine now, that’s what you said. you do as i say.” you cried into his hand. you were scared, yes, but you liked it, and he knew. he knew you so well, didn’t he? 
and so you did as he said; you felt his hips seize and his cock stir, and you did nothing but whine like a punished pet. you felt the stickiness of his seed ooze through his jeans and soak heavy on your sweatpants, and that’s when it became pure torture. 
while this was mostly meant to be your punishment, you had him cumming in his jeans like a horny, rabid teenage boy. you made him feel so uncontrollably dirty. he was a grown man, humping you like a high schooler would a pillow, and somehow he didn’t feel embarrassed. he felt undeniably amazing. jack hadn’t faced this type of excitement in years. the car chases and gun fights only kept him on his toes for so long, but you, trembling underneath him, he would never get bored of. 
“come on, clean up your mess, then.” he hauled himself onto his knees with soiled jeans on full display. he at least gifted you the time to push your frail body up from the bed before he hurried your face into his thighs with a lug at your leather-bound wrists, encouraging you to lap up what the denim couldn’t hold. and like the obedient girl next door he’d come to know, you stuck your tongue out and traced along the sensitive head of his bulge. it twitched, and jack took a sharp inhale. you stared up at him, wide-eyed and beautified by the fresh tears upon your cheeks. you were tied up and at his mercy. he was sure that if he hadn’t just came, the sight alone would’ve done him in. his hand found the back of your head, stroking the silky strands of your hair with such affection that even you wouldn’t believe what a perverted man he could be. 
“my god, you’re so pretty.”
that did it. the air of uncertainty that had fused with jack’s presence within the past month dissolved into girl-like infatuation. weeks of hate and disgust and resentment diminished to nothing because of five words. no man had ever told you that, that you were pretty, as if they’d genuinely meant it. sure, a few boys from high school right before they tried to shove a hand down your pants, but never a man. he had already gotten you into bed, anyway. what reason would he have to lie? 
“you think so?” your voice was timid, reassuring jack that you were back exactly where he wanted you— you were wrapped around his finger. 
“i know so, pumpkin.” he grinned, unknotting your hands and pushing gently at your shoulder to lie you back down. to his surprise, you fought against him to hare off the mattress in record time. 
“oh my god, my mom!”
your young worries were somewhat endearing to jack, but he knew better than to let his smirk slip in the eye of your panic. “right, her.” he sighed instead, reaching out to clutch your jaw between his fingers before you had the chance to scurry out the door. 
“you’re going to take those blinds down the second you get upstairs, young lady, and if i catch you touchin’ yourself—“ 
he didn’t have to finish his sentence. “i won’t.” 
this time, he let his smile show, and it was the most pompous one he’d given you yet. “good, now give daddy a kiss.” 
although you could tell he was teasing, you blushed nonetheless. he waited for you to lean in and press your lips to his, and when you did, he could taste the saltiness of himself on your tongue. 
“oh,” he mumbles into your mouth. after you pull away and he spends a few seconds fishing in his back pocket, he dangled your spare keys, waiting for you to reach out and snatch them. “wouldn’t wanna leave these laying around, would’ya?” 
although his boyish grin and choice of words made it hard not to roll your eyes, you thought for a second. in a way, it felt like he was breaking this non-existent fourth wall that was his humanity. he always gave you some sort of indication of what he was doing, didn’t he? he didn’t have to tell you about how he’d watched you through your window every night or leave your spare keys out for you to see. he couldn’t be so horribly sordid if he were deliberately keeping you in on his plans, could he? this was simply a little charade you were playing into, wasn’t it? this wasn’t who jack was at his core, right? 
“keep them.”
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