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#depraved indifference
clatterbane · 2 months
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I just got another professional throat reaming yesterday, and I can't help but be relieved in a way that it's still feeling sore enough for the home drain snaking not to sound like a great idea tonight. Probably better to give it another day to heal up.
They did send me home with another one ofa little larger diameter yesterday. And actually asked me to bring at least the smallest one back next time, since apparently those aren't even made anymore and they really don't want to lose any of this set. Guess that's not really something they could reasonably just pick up used off eBay or whatever, either!
As miserable as the DIY experience still is, at least it really did seem to make a difference--as everyone was hoping. It kept things open to the point that I wasn't even having to be more careful about what I was eating the last week or so before they worked on it again. I was really hoping that they would be willing to increase the interval between gastroscopy sessions now, but they still want me back in a month. Hopefully once they see if it continues that way, though.
It'll apparently get a decent test over the summer, at least, since the doctor said they wouldn't have access to the OR they've been using for some reason during July. They can apparently use another one elsewhere in the hospital if necessary, but it sounded like that guy wouldn't be sorry to skip July either. (At least I guess both of us can be glad it is gastroscopy, and not necessary from the other end! 😩 Still not a lot of fun for anybody involved, probably.)
But yeah, even if they're not willing to call a longer time between the professional dilation yet, it is at least a HUGE relief to feel a lot more secure that, worst case? I am extremely unlikely to get so that I can't even swallow liquids again. And there is something I can personally do about it if my throat does try to close up like that again.
Being completely dependent on people who kinda seemed to be hoping I would go ahead and die already--just as long as it stopped being their responsibility--had to be one of the roughest, and frankly most traumatic, parts of this whole extended shitshow. Thankfully not the vibe I have ever gotten here at all, but it's still a big relief to have some way of helping myself. Even if it does involve gagging myself with plastic tubes.
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obsessed w your carmy fic….. it might kill me.
what do you think ab a really drunk reader coming home to carmy after going out and she’s really needy and affectionate. the rest is up to youuuu
Minors DNI 18+
A/N: don’t forget requests for everything are open so if you’d like to see anything from me feel free to drop it in my ask box :)
buy me a coffee!
help me escape abuse
my Etsy shop
~~~
The sound of your front door slamming startles Carmy out of the light doze he fell into waiting for you to get home from a night out with friends. He feels for his phone, squinting blearily at the bright screen. 3:30 AM. A thud from the entryway, followed by a loud shhh and giggles pulls him from the couch, a quiet laugh leaving him as he finds you struggling to pull your jacket from your shoulders.
Your head shoots up to look at him at the sound and a wide grin stretches across your face. “Carmy baby!” You nearly shout, dissolving into giggles at the level of your voice before you speak again in a quieter tone, “I missed you tonight. We had way too much to drink!” You abandon the task of pulling your jacket off, leaving it caught on your elbows as you nearly fling yourself at him.
Carmy catches you easily, letting out a laugh as he wraps a supporting arm around your waist, “I can see that, Honey. Let’s get you ready for bed, huh?”
You hum in agreement, nuzzling into his neck, “Carry me?” He snorts but tucks his other arm under the back of your knees, effortlessly lifting you into his arms. You let out a shriek that ends in giggles, wrapping your arms around his neck as you gaze up at him through lidded eyes, “You’re so strong! I love you so much baby, y’know that?”
He responds with a kiss to your temple, carrying you through the hall to your shared bedroom. Carmy sets you down and crouches next to the bed, carefully sliding your feet out of your heels.
You reach out, running your fingers through his hair with a hum, “Seeing you down there gives me all sorts of naughty ideas.”
Carmy laughs and leans forward to kiss the inside of your knee, his fingers sliding up your leg to curl around the top of your stocking, “Oh yeah?” Your breath hitches as he follows the stocking down your leg with his lips. He looks up, catching your gaze as he switches to the other side, watching your reaction as he repeats his action.
You spread your legs, letting Carmy settle closer to you, your dress riding high up your thighs from the movement. The first touch of his lips against your inner thigh sends a shiver through your body and he smiles against your skin, wrapping his arms around your hips to pull you closer as he slowly kisses toward your center. You arch your back off the bed with a whine as he skips over where you need him most, peppering your other thigh with the same meticulous attention.
“Carmy, baby please.” You whine, squirming underneath his teasing attention. Carmy smiles against your skin, and finally, finally, presses a kiss against your covered core. He hooks his fingers in your panties, kissing your hip bones as he slowly pulls them off. You whine again, threading your fingers in his hair as you try to guide him back to your aching core.
His mouth finds you, a groan escaping him as the taste of you coats his tongue. His hands grip your hips, pulling you against his mouth as he licks into your core. You shudder, gripping his hair in your fingers as shocks of pleasure curl up your spine.
Carmy hums, sealing his lips around your clit and sucking, your moans spurring him on. He releases his grip on one of your hips, sinking a finger into your cunt. He pulls away to breathe, chest heaving as he curls his finger inside you. “Feel good, Honey?” He asks, a teasing tone to his voice.
You nod with a whine, bucking your hips into his hand, “need more, Carmy. Want-want you t’fuck me.” He grins, pressing a soft kiss to your hip before pulling away. You whine at the loss, reaching out to grab his shirt.
Carmy laughs, leaning down to kiss you, hands moving to the bottom of your dress to pull it off you, “let’s get you undressed first, honey, promise I’ll take care of you.” He murmurs, a grin stretching across his lips at your pout.
He helps you undress, laying you gently on the bed before turning to undress. You hum appreciatively, reaching out to touch his newly bared back, “You’re so handsome, baby, I love you so much.” Carmy grins at you and settles between your legs, dipping down to brush his lips against yours.
“I love you too, honey.”
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The real problem with anonymity
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I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TUCSON (Mar 9-10), then San Francisco (Mar 13), Anaheim, and more!
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According to "the greater internet fuckwad theory," the ills of the internet can be traced to anonymity:
Normal Person + Anonymity + Audience = Total Fuckwad
https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/greater-internet-fuckwad-theory
This isn't merely wrong, it's dangerously wrong. The idea that forcing people to identify themselves online will improve discourse is demonstrably untrue. Facebook famously adopted its "real names" policy because Mark Zuckerberg claimed to believe that "Having two identities for yourself is an example of a lack of integrity":
https://www.zephoria.org/thoughts/archives/2010/05/14/facebook-and-radical-transparency-a-rant.html
In service to this claimed belief, Zuckerberg kicked off the "nym wars," turning himself into the sole arbiter of what each person's true name was, with predictably tragicomic consequences:
https://www.kalzumeus.com/2010/06/17/falsehoods-programmers-believe-about-names/
Facebook is, famously, one of the internet's most polluted reservoirs of toxic interpersonal conduct. That's not despite the fact that people have to use their "real" names to participate there, but because of it. After all, the people who are most vulnerable to bullying and harassment are the ones who choose pseudonyms or anonymity so that they can speak freely. Forcing people to use their "real names" means that the most powerful bullies speak with impunity, and their victims are faced with the choice of retreat or being targeted offline.
This can be a matter of life and death. Cambodian dictator Hun Sen uses Facebook's real names policy to force dissidents to unmask themselves, which exposes them to arbitrary detention, torture, and extrajudicial killing. For members of the Cambodian diaspora, the choice is to unmask themselves or expose their family back home to retaliation:
https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/meghara/facebook-cambodia-democracy
Some of the biggest internet fuckwads I've ever met – and I've met some big ones! – were utterly unashamed about using their real names. Some of the nicest people I know online have never told me their offline names. Greater internet fuckwad theory is just plain wrong.
But that doesn't mean that anonymity is totally harmless. There is a category of person who reliably uses a certain, specific kind of anonymity to do vicious things that inflicts serious harm on whole swathes of people: corporate bullies.
Take Tinyletter. Tinyletter is a beloved newsletter app that was created to help people who just wanted to talk to others, without a thought to going viral or getting rich. It was sold to Mailchimp, which was sold to Intuit, who killed it:
https://www.theverge.com/24085737/tinyletter-mailchimp-shut-down-email-newsletters
Tinyletter was a perfect little gem of a service. It cost almost nothing to run, and made an enormous number of peoples' lives better every day. Shutting it down was an act of corporate depravity by some faceless Intuit manager who woke up one day and said "Fuck all those people. Just fuck them."
No one knows who that person was. That person will never have to look those people in the eyes – those people whose lives were made poorer for that Intuit executive's indifference. That person is the greater fuckwad, and that fuckwaddery depends on their anonymity.
Or take @Pixsy, a corporate shakedown outfit that helps copyleft trolls trick people into making tiny errors in Creative Commons attributions and then intimidates them into handing over thousands of dollars:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/24/a-bug-in-early-creative-commons-licenses-has-enabled-a-new-breed-of-superpredator/
Copyleft trolling is an absolutely depraved practice, a petty grift practiced by greedy fuckwads who are completely indifferent to the harm they cause – even if it means bankrupting volunteer-run nonprofits for a buck:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/02/commafuckers-versus-the-commons/
Pixsy claims that it is proud of its work "defending artists' rights," but when I named the personnel who signed their names to these profoundly unethical legal threats, Pixsy CEO Kain Jones threatened to sue me:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/13/an-open-letter-to-pixsy-ceo-kain-jones-who-keeps-sending-me-legal-threats/
The expectation of corporate anonymity runs deep and the press is surprisingly complicit. I once spent weeks working on an investigative story about a multinational corporation's practices. I spent hours on the phone with the company's VP of communications, over the course of many calls. When we were done, they said, "Now, of course, you can't name me in the article. All of that has to be attributed to 'a spokesperson.'"
I was baffled. Nothing this person said was a secret. They weren't blowing the whistle. They weren't leaking secrets. They were a corporate official, telling me the official corporate line. But they wouldn't sign their name to it.
I wrote an article about for the Guardian. It was the only Guardian column any of my editors there ever rejected, in more than a decade of writing for them:
https://memex.craphound.com/2012/05/14/anodyne-anonymity/
Given the press's deference to this anodyne anonymity, it's no wonder that official spokespeople expect this kind of anonymity. I routinely receive emails from corporate spokespeople disputing my characterization of their employer's conduct, but insisting that I not attribute their dubious – and often blatantly false – statements to them by name.
These are the greater corporate fuckwads, who commit their sins from behind a veil of anonymity. That brand of bloodless viciousness, depravity and fraud absolutely depends on anonymity.
Mark Zuckerberg claimed that "multiple identities" enabled bad behavior – as though it was somehow healthy for people to relate to their bosses, lovers, parents, toddlers and barbers in exactly the same way. Zuckerberg's motivation was utterly transparent: having "multiple identities" doesn't mean you "lack integrity" – it just makes it harder to target you for ads.
But Zuckerberg couldn't enshittify Facebook on his own. For that, he relies on a legion of anonymous Facebook managers. Some of these people undoubtably speak up for Facebook users' interests when their colleagues propose putting them in harm's way for the sake of some arbitrary KPI. But the ones who are making those mean little decisions? They absolutely rely on anonymity to do their dirty work.
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Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.
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If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/04/greater-corporate-fuckward-theory/#counterintuit-ive
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silicacid · 2 months
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Israeli forces have withheld the bodies of at least 31 Palestinian children since June 2016, according to documentation collected by Defense for Children International - Palestine (DCIP). Four of the children’s bodies have since been released to their families, while 27 Palestinian children’s bodies remain withheld by Israeli authorities. The rest remain in Israeli authorities’ custody, some for years, so their families are unable to lay their children to rest. That’s because depraved indifference to Palestinian life, even in death, is Israeli state policy.
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gl1tteryzebra · 2 months
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Rafe teaching u how to touch urself and make urself cum
🧟‍♀️grrrr this is so bfb!rafe coded...I love it, thanks anon! (was not proofread)
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it's not like he meant to eavesdrop, you just happen to have an extraordinary loud mouth.
but now that he was here, back pressed against the hallway that led into the kitchen as you blabber about your situation, how unsatisfied, how used you felt— rafe realised that he was indeed being invasive. he couldn’t help it. your admission keeps circulating around his head like a damn mantra– no guy has ever been bothered to make you cum.
maybe they didn’t know how to— the blonde briefly surmised —but even still this alternate was no less of a disgrace.
you were a friend of the family, but mostly one to sarah. rafe was fairly indifferent to you as a kid, your presence at tannyhill so common that you became a consistent part of his life, something to expect...that was until you transformed into a woman.
suddenly you were flouncing around in the shortest skirts, tits half hanging out of skimpy bathing suits, batting those long eyelashes up at him like some lost puppy in desperate need of guidance. it drove him crazy, thwarted his sleep, consumed his waking mind. but now he has leverage, an excuse to finally act on his depraved thoughts– and you best bet he pounced at the opportunity.
“nah, don’t be closin’ those pretty eyes. watch.”
he had you perched on his lap, legs pliantly spread before his wardrobe mirror. it was a sight for sore eyes, your leaking hole clenching sporadically around nothing as his fingertips danced along the expanse of your inner thigh– teasing.
“see how fuckin' sensitive you are? bet you would cum if I just told you to," his lips stretched into a impish smirk as you writhed, a meek mewl clawing its way out of your throat– his crass words turning you to putty. "but you gotta learn for yourself, don't you?"
you nodded, sighing in relief as he finally ventured further, dipping his index finger inside your walls slowly. his other hand held your chin, ensuring your attention did not wander. "can't have these assholes leavin' you disappointed, this fuckin' wet."
"ah– rafe," you cried out as he added another, head thrashing from side to side in an attempt to evade the wave of pleasure that crashed upon you. it was silly to think he'd allow that, reminding you to be good with a warning nip to the neck.
"this parts important, kay? watch." you did to the best of your ability, glossy eyes directed intently at his thumb as it swirled around your puffy button, applying a gentle pressure.
"feels good, huh?" his cadence dropped into something dark and undeniably sultry. "how about this?"
you gasped in surprise as his fingers lodged within the warmth of your walls began to crook forward, tapping something that sent you crooning.
"so-so good!" came your choked reply
"think you could do it yourself? make yourself cum on your fingers?" he chuckled, genuinely tickled, as you looked at him as though he hung the stars and moon in the sky– brain completely empty. "nah, didn't think so. that's al'ight, keep watching I'll show you."
sincerely ~ 🦓༝༚༝༚ (got a lil lazy towards the end, soz)
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clatterbane · 1 year
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This whole thread is unfortunately well worth a look.
The major upshot, though?
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I wouldn't be at all surprised if similar applies well beyond the UK, but yeah. There have been some very specific dangerous-as-hell CYA messages getting pushed there.
And given the ways some people have been behaving already, not much would surprise me at this point.
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orangeblossombitch · 6 months
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Nearly 4 years ago I painted this to work through the horror of witnessing 34 Palestinians murdered by israeli bombs and tens of thousands displaced in only two days, while being surrounded by utter indifference and silence from my uni mates and society. What is happening now exceeds the bounds of horror, I truly have never felt so utterly hollow. I dont understand how i can be in the midst of such depravity and evil, yet the world remains the same. People go about their day as usual, others are too cowardly to even send an email to condemn the one thing everyone had agreed one was wrong; genocide. But people here want history books to make the decisions for them. I know tomorrow we will wake up to no news, because there is no internet anymore, or to the news of thousands of more murdered Palestinians. I have no more respect for the people around me
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indifferent-depravity · 8 months
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CW: daddy kink, trans!reader
Minors DNI 18+
A/N: I don't wanna hear shit about how you can't put yourself into this story! I wrote this for me, a trans man, and if you read it you agree to read it as it is written without complaint
buy me a coffee!
help me escape abuse
my Etsy shop
~~~
When you see Reggie walk into the party with an angry frown etched on his face, you suppress a smile, knowing your best friend, Delsin, must be up to something again. You quietly slip out of the longhouse, hiding in the shadows along the side as you watch a figure scale its way up the cliffs towards you. Delsin finally pulls himself up the final ledge, trying to slow his breathing as he walks towards the longhouse with feigned nonchalance.
He nears you and you grab his arm, tugging him to join you in the shadows. He makes an indignant squawk and you press your hand over his mouth with a hissed “Shut up!” He relaxes when he sees your face and you feel a smirk grow under your hand.
You slowly lower your hand and whisper, “What did you do, Delsin? Reg is in the longhouse and he is angry.” Your stomach flutters at the sight of his cocky smirk and you let out a rushed breath as heat blooms in your core. Damn him and his smirk.
“Okay so maybe I found a way up to the billboard of him and maaybe I graffitied over it.” You give him a stern look and he laughs, his hands coming up to rest on your shoulders, “It’s okay, man, we can go in there and you can say I’ve been with you the whole time, problem solved!”
Delsin gives your shoulders a squeeze and moves to round the corner towards the door right as it swings open. You pull him back right before Reggie comes into view. You grip the lapels of his vest tightly as Reggie starts calling out for Delsin, angry mutters of “this fucking kid” and “arresting my own damn brother” between each yell of his name.
As Reggie strides closer you pull Delsin in by his vest. “Kiss me,” you hiss, rolling your eyes at the dumbfounded look on his face. If there was ever a time not to act clueless. “You know Reggie will feel awkward and not ask questions, so kiss me, Del-“ His lips cut off the rest of your words and you shiver as his hands come up to cup the sides of your face.
The intoxicating slide of his lips makes your head swim, years of thinking about kissing him never prepared you for this. Fuck he’s a good kisser. Right as Reggie rounds the corner, Delsin pushes his tongue into your mouth and you moan, a pathetic high whine coming from the back of your throat. Reggie chokes on his words, immediately turning his head and looking down to avoid the scene in front of him.
Delsin keeps kissing you like he doesn’t know Reggie is there and you let him, wanting to savor it for as long as you could. Reggie clears his throat, his hands shifting awkwardly at his sides before landing on his hips, still very much trying not to look at you. “You guys uh- I didn’t know you were- has Delsin been-been here the entire time? With-with you?” Delsin ducks his head to stifle a laugh and you pinch him, silently telling him to knock it off.
“Sorry, Reg. Del helped me set up and then we just… y’know…” You trail off, your cheeks burning as you glance up at Delsin before shooting Reggie an embarrassed smile.
“No-no it’s fine, I just wanted to check!” Reggie almost frantically waves his hand at you as he backs up with his eyes still trained on the ground. He trips on a tree branch and you snort, pressing your lips together to hide a smile. “You kids-kids have f-fun…” he trails off with a grimace and a shake of his head, finally turning to head back to his truck.
You both dissolve into laughter after he’s gone, shy smiles growing on your faces as your eyes meet. You blush and clear your throat, averting your gaze to his collar as you nervously smooth out the wrinkles you caused. “Well, uh, you’re home free now so I guess I’ll see you later, I sh-should probably get back.” You say awkwardly, trying to slip out from between the wall and his body but he presses his hand against the wall next to your head, cutting off your escape.
You look up at him and your breath catches, that stupid cocky smirk was back on his face. Makes you want to slap him. Maybe kiss him again. “Delsin… What are you doing? Stop playing around.” You try to sound stern but your voice comes out weak, barely above a whisper.
“I don’t think I was finished yet,” Delsin nudges his nose against yours and your breathing stops when his lips brush against yours. “You didn’t think Reggie interrupting us was going to stop me, did you?”
You swallow and hesitantly curl your fingers around the lapels of his vest again, your breath coming out in quick pants, “But I th- I thought that was just to keep you out of trouble?”
He hums, tangling his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck, “I don’t think either of us really thought that, babe.” You whine at the pet name and your eyes flutter shut at the press of his forehead against yours as he whispers, “I’ve wanted to do this since we were fifteen.” He closes the distance and kisses you softly, free hand settling on your hip.
You tug at his vest and he stumbles closer, body crushing yours against the wall as you deepen the kiss. it’s his turn to moan now and you can feel the vibrations sink into your chest, making you whine in response. He starts trailing kisses down your neck, forcing his leg between yours. You let out a sigh of his name, arching into him as he sucks a mark over your pulse. “You mean ever since I started keeping you out of trouble?” You tease and you can feel him chuckle against your skin, drawing a soft gasp out of you.
“It was the year you came out, took me a while to figure out why I was so damn happy you were gay.” He explains and you giggle, pulling him into another kiss.
“Wanna know a secret?” You lower your voice into a whisper as you lean towards his ear, “You were what made me realize I was gay.” He freezes, his face slack with surprise and you grin cheekily. A blush climbs high on his cheekbones and you lean forward, brushing your lips gently against the heated skin.
Delsin’s grip on your hip tightens and he smashes his lips against yours, speaking between heated kisses, “You mean I waited years for this for no reason?”
You giggle and hum an affirmative noise against his lips, releasing his vest from your grip to wrap your arms around his neck. He grabs handfuls of your ass, guiding you over his thigh. You whine as a deep ache forms in your core, sparks of pleasure running through you with each rock of your hips.
You break the kiss with a gasp, your head thumping against the wall, “Hate to burst your bubble Romeo, but you’re not fucking me against the longhouse.” Delsin laughs, pressing a kiss on the underside of your jaw.
“No? Is that why you’re still humping my thigh?” He teases, grinning against your skin at your whine. He sucks a dark mark high on your throat before pulling away, humming at your wrecked state. “Still want to go back inside?”
You roll your eyes but a smile grows across your face as you look up at him. “And if I do?”
“I guess I’ll have to fuck you in the bathroom then.” Your face burns and your eyes drop to the front of his jeans, your breath catching at the sight of his cock straining against the zipper.
“I mean~ if you want Betty to kill you,” You say in a sing-song voice and giggle as he pales at the thought. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You peck his lips, slipping your hand into his, “Take me home and you can do whatever you want.”
You go to walk away but Delsin tugs on your hand, pulling you back against him. He wraps an arm around your waist, hovering his lips over yours, “Yeah? promise?” You whine, your knees going weak as you feel the hard ridge of his cock press against your hip and you nod.
“Take me home, Del.”
He grins and in a fluid movement, wraps an arm around your knees and throws you over his shoulder. You shriek at the sudden movement, hitting his back, “Delsin! Put me down!”
He laughs, lightly swatting your ass as he starts towards your house. “Thought you wanted me to take you home, babe.” You lift your head with a yelp, your face burning as you catch Betty watching you from the entrance of the longhouse, a knowing smile on her face.
Delsin finally puts you down once you reach your home, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You hum, pulling away with a soft nip to his bottom lip to unlock your door. He follows you in and crowds you against the door the minute it closes. “Can I help you?” You say, looking up at him innocently.
He rolls his eyes, tangling his fingers in your hair, “You’re a little brat, you know that?”
You bite your lip, “Maybe you should do something about it then, Daddy.” Best part about fucking your best friend? You know everything they’re into. He chokes on a moan and tightens his grip on your hair, forcing your head back with a swift tug. You let out a quiet moan, a smile growing on your lips.
Delsin drags his nose over your cheek, murmuring into your ear, “Careful sweet boy, you may know my weaknesses but I know yours, too.” He drags his free hand over your stomach, slowly making his way into your pants, “Don’t act like calling me daddy doesn’t make you wet.” His fingers find your clit and you let out a quiet gasp, your hips tilting to meet his touch. He smirks and slowly circles your clit, “Go on, babe, say it again.”
You whine, gripping his forearm tightly, “Daddy.”
He pouts mockingly, pushing his hand deeper into your underwear so he can sink his fingers into you, “Yeah, baby? Y’like Daddy touching you?” Delsin kisses your cheek, rutting his hips forward so you can feel his hard length through his jeans. You moan and tug his beanie off, throwing it god knows where as you tangle your fingers into his hair to pull him down for a kiss.
“Fuck me, Delsin.”
He pretends to think about it, a mockery of a pensive look on his face as he continues to pump his fingers into you. He presses you harder against the door, whispering teasingly in your ear, “Maybe later, don’t want to reward bad behavior now, do I?” You whine desperately, leaning up to catch his lips in a kiss and he forces your head back again, “Say sorry, sweet boy, promise to be good and I’ll fuck you.”
You let out a sob, tears burning your eyes, “Please, I’m sorry, I’ll-I’ll be good I promise.” You shudder as he curls his fingers inside, “Fuck! Please, I promise, please fuck me.”
He hums and presses his forehead against yours. “How could I say no to such pretty begging? Cum on my fingers and then I’ll fuck you like you deserve, yeah? Cum on Daddy’s fingers.” He finds your clit with his thumb, and you squeeze your eyes shut with a loud whine, falling apart on his fingers.
“Yeah, there we go, just like that, baby.” You start to shake, your hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself as your legs go weak, nearly buckling under you. Delsin pulls his fingers out and he wraps an arm around your waist to support you.
He sucks your wetness off his fingers with a moan that makes you turn red, burying your face into his vest with an embarrassed whine, “Delsin, don’t do that!”
Delsin looks at you with a grin and leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, “Why not, babe? I’ll have my mouth on that sweet little pussy at some point, what’s wrong with me having a little taste?”
You whine into his chest with a shake of your head, “No one’s ever… y’know. S’gross, isn’t it?”
He scoffs, “Guess I’ll just have to change your mind.” He picks you up by your waist, urging your legs around his hips as he moves toward your bedroom.
Delsin dumps you onto the bed, kneeling between your legs as he tugs your pants down. You press your thighs closed as your pants hit the floor, overcome with shyness. He tuts running his hands over your thighs, “C’mon sweet boy, let Daddy see.” You whine, burying your face in your hand as you let him ease your legs open, the warmth from his palms causing shocks to race up your spine.
Delsin sighs happily, trailing soft kisses over your thighs, “There’s my sweet boy, all wet and needy for me.” He hooks your knees over his elbows, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed as his kisses trail closer to your core, “Don’t worry, Daddy’ll take care of you.” You squeak at the first touch of his tongue to your cunt, clenching the blankets beneath you in your fists. He swirls his tongue around your clit and electricity shoots up your spine, causing you to throw your head back with a moan.
He hums, digging his fingers into your thighs as he works his tongue over your pussy, moaning as the taste of you fills his mouth. You drop an arm over your eyes, arching into his mouth with a soft cry, the first licks of another orgasm already building in your core. You grind your cunt against his mouth, any thoughts of embarrassment flying out of your head as his lips seal around your clit.
Delsin pulls a hand away from your thigh to grab the arm covering your eyes, pinning it against the bed. He pulls his mouth off your cunt to look up at you, “Look at me babe, let me see those pretty eyes when I make you cum.” You whine but prop yourself up on your shaky forearm, face staining pink as you see his lips and chin glisten with your slick.
He presses his tongue against your clit, keeping eye contact as he expertly pulls another orgasm out of you. You cum with a gasped moan of “Daddy��, thighs clenching around his head, your eyes never leaving his. Delsin gently licks you through your orgasm, stopping after you slump back against the bed.
He makes his way up your body, placing soft kisses over each inch of revealed skin until he reaches your lips. He kisses you gently, pushing his tongue into your mouth and you moan, tasting yourself on it. He pulls away with a deep breath as you reach between your bodies to gently palm his hard length through his jeans.
You give him a tired grin, “Do I get to be fucked now?”
He snorts, nudging his nose against yours before pecking your lips. “You mean two orgasms wasn’t enough? My, aren’t you greedy, sweet boy.”
You giggle and bite your lip, flicking the button of his jeans open so you can push your hands into his boxers. Delsin lets out a shaky breath when your hand meets the heated skin of his cock. You kiss his cheek and speak into his ear, starting to slowly stroke his cock, “Maybe I want to see you cum too, ever think about that?” His head drops to rest against your collarbone, letting out a quiet moan against your skin.
You squeeze the base of his shaft before slipping your hand out of his pants, smiling at the whine that spills out of him. You awkwardly wiggle out of your shirt beneath him before turning your attention to him, pushing his vest off his shoulders, “Wanna see you, Del, all of you.” 
He helps you get his hoodie off with shaky hands, leaning down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss as he pushes his jeans and boxers off his hips. He settles back between your thighs and you moan at the touch of his bare skin against yours.
Rocking his hips forward, Delsin lets out a broken moan as his cock glides through your folds, hissing out a quiet “fuck” as the tip catches on your entrance. You whine and tilt your hips, sinking down onto the first inch of his cock.
He clenches his fists as he slowly pushes his hips forward, taking a deep breath when he bottoms out. You wiggle your hips impatiently and he chokes on a gasp, pinning your hips against the bed, “fuck, babe, if you do that I’m gonna cum.”
You pout and he chuckles, leaning down to brush his lips against yours, “Thought you wanted to get fucked, sweet boy.” He rolls his hips with a shudder, “Wanted to take my time with you but-“ He rolls his hips again with a loud moan, “fuck, your pussy just feels too good.”
You tilt your head back with a gasp, “Don’t care, just fuck me, Del.”
He hums, fucking into you with shallow thrusts, keeping his cock sheathed inside you as much as possible, “That’s not what you were calling me a second ago. Who am I, sweet boy?”
You moan loudly, digging your fingers into his shoulders, “D-Daddy.”
Delsin groans and presses his body tight against yours, his thrusts picking up speed, “Again, say it again.” He begs between gasps, cupping your jaw.
“Da- fuck! Daddy!” You cry out as his cock finds your g-spot, your eyes finding his face in the haze of pleasure. “C-cum in me. Cum in m- fuck! Cum in me, please!”
He chokes and crushes his lips against yours, his hips stuttering as the dam breaks and fills you with his release. You lazily trace shapes across his back as you share slow kisses, a comforting silence settling between you.
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The backlash is in full swing. People who speak out for Palestine, for Palestinians, for Gaza are being punished simply for using their voices to advocate against genocide and for the preservation of life. Many of the high-profile examples of people being punished for their speech involve absurdly banal statements. Some folks didn’t even mention Israel by name. The CEO of Web Summit has resigned after tremendous backlash over the comment, “War crimes are war crimes even when committed by allies, and should be called out for what they are.” It would be comical if the implications weren’t so disastrous. Forced out for saying war crimes should always be called out. This obviously correct statement should’ve received no backlash at all, and instead cost this man his job. And yet, as we’ll get into here, the response to such a mundane statement hints at Israel and Zionism’s immense fear over public opinion turning, and on an even greater scale exposes the vulnerability of Western hegemony in this moment. Paddy Cosgrave, the Irish entrepreneur and CEO who stepped down at Web Summit, is not alone. Authors, workers, and politicians who speak out against Israel’s actions in any way are being censured and forced out of their jobs. The famed 92nd Street Y in New York City canceled the talk of Pulitzer Prize-winning author Viet Thanh Nguyen for signing an open letter condemning Israel's "indiscriminate violence" against Palestinians in Gaza. The editor-in-chief of eLife, a scientific magazine, told the world he is being replaced for sharing a piece from The Onion that called out indifference to the lives of Palestinian civilians. There is again a comic tragedy to someone firing an editor for sharing a headline from a satirical magazine that reads, “Dying Gazans Criticized For Not Using Last Words To Condemn Hamas” and not realizing how they are proving the very point they hope to suppress. In short, by suppressing, firing, and attacking those who uplift the humanity of Palestinians and condemn war crimes, powerful people are making it clearer than ever that they are not in fact on the side of justice. Even more plainly, when they condemn Hamas as barbaric again and again, but then go after people who oppose crimes against humanity and say that thousands of innocent people in Gaza should not be slaughtered, they expose themselves as barbaric and depraved. I hesitate to even use the language of barbarism, as implying the absence of civilization has over centuries become synonymous with dehumanization. But as Israel runs ads in Times Square that say “Be Human. Stand for Israel” and relentlessly bombs Gaza, killing thousands, it becomes hard to ignore how nearly every move made both by the state of Israel and many Zionists has the opposite of its intended impact.
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I HAVE MOVED TO MY MAIN. PLEASE FOLLOW GINSENGKITTEN <3
“His large, rough hands adorned with rings, tenderly kissing the strings.”
*this is my very first gnr/slash fic. I’m not proofreading it either it’s just something for the depraved slash girlies*
✰ TEACHERS PET ✰
slashxreader
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✰slash!xfem!/age!gap/praise kink/daddy issues/extreme!smut/NSFW ✰
Did not narrow down slashes age here. Anywhere from 40-current age- left up to reader
Because of your "fading talent", your dad thought it would be best to force you into guitar lessons. He told you if you took lessons seriously, that he wouldn't make you get a job. Guitar was your job.
You never resented guitar playing. It was your first love. You knew you were good at it. You could lose yourself in playing and the world would disappear. And you didn't want to disappoint your dad. You constantly felt like you weren't meeting his expectations of being some sort of renowned guitar player. But you knew nothing else and felt good at nothing else but guitar. It felt like you're only option as a career path.
Your dad worked in the music industry for over 20 years. He saw the success that could come from being a musician. He had connections and everyone knew him and he knew everyone. You remember tagging along in and out sporadically throughout growing up. It was just the two of you. You had met cool bands and musicians and other famous figure heads. While it was "cool", you also didn't care much as it had monopolized your childhood. Long nights, early flights, the rush of recording studios, backstages, waiting around on your dad in meetings. Probably sometimes being in places not meant for a kid. You became indifferent and tired.
But now you were older and the expectations of you were even more elevated. Your dad wanted more from you. You weren't sure if it was for profit or fame anymore for him. He never seemed quite satisfied and never gave any sort of clear affirmation.
-
You hopped out of the blacked out suburban with your equipment. Your dad closing the door behind you. You stepped into the cold night air. A shiver ran up your exposed legs under your skirt. Although a brisk walk from the parking garage to the recording studio, you wished you had dressed a little warmer. But dressing like a rockstar wasn't for wimps! You liked to model your style after female rockstars you had met growing up but always ended up just looking like some little groupie.
The recording studio was more or less an old penthouse with a recording area built in one of the rooms. It was nice but had this eerie grungy appearance that made it seem like it could have been a trap house in the 80s. While you tried your best to fit the role, you looked like you didn't belong there. Even your dad looked cooler than you. Suddenly you started to feel insecure. As you walked down the dark hallway inside, music became louder as the smell of cigarettes did too. A hazy light shone through a cracked door at the end of the hallway. Was this a guitar lesson or a concert? Your dad pushed through the door and you followed tucked behind him timidly. Immediately old friends of your dads excitedly gave him greetings and hugs complete with hearty slaps on the backs. You stood there nervously clutching your guitar. "You guys remember my daughter, Y/N!" Your dad announced you, stepping back to reveal you hidden behind him. Your cover suddenly exposed. "Well I'll be damned! If it isn't Y/N!" They all exclaimed happily. A scruffy man with blond hair embraced you fatherly and gave you a small gentle noogie on your head. "Man look at this kid! Haven't seen you since you were what, 12! Look at you all grown up now!" He said simultaneously exchanging his eyes from you to your dad. You grinned sheepishly embarrassed at the attention in the room on you. Guns n Roses. Man they were so fucking cool. You'd met them a few times growing up when your dad worked with them off and on. This part of his job was pretty cool. It was more like family friends than the world famous rock legends. Except when you were younger, the barrier between you and them was bigger. Your dad shielding you from the crazy drunken scraps, sessions and other rockstar mischief. You'd meet and then your dad would leave you with his assistant in another office or the tour bus while he fucked around with the guys elsewhere. But now you were an adult like them! You finally got to be on the inside. In the ring with the rockstars. This made you even more intimidated. 'Am I getting lessons from rockstars?' You panicked to yourself. Suddenly completely doubting your skill at all. They can't see you play! They'll laugh for sure. There's no way.
The music playing on the speaker suddenly changed to a softer tempo, "She Rides" by Danzig started playing. The slow intro intertwined with the dark atmosphere of the studio. Dark purple velvet curtains limply hung from the ceilings, old trunks full of excess junk and costume attire, records plastered the walls, the only light in the room glowing from dim warm lamps throughout the room. It felt safe and comfortable in here, like an old theatre. Cigarette smoke danced through the warm glow of the lamps.
The feeling of eyes on you started burning the back of your head. Someone was watching you. You turned your head to the left corner of the studio. A broad shoulder man sat open legged on a old couch and became illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp. The smoke trailed from his full lips out from under his dark full curls decorating his tan face. He had remained quiet and out of frame when the greetings went on. You dad shooting the shit with the other men in the room.
It's Slash. Your heart beat a little quicker in your chest. Oh my god of course, how could I forget SLASH! You became suddenly star struck for a brief moment. He was the GOD of guitar. He's so badass and he's so talented and he's....staring..at me? Your thoughts left your head. You felt his gaze on you like you were being hunted. Like his prey? You tried to examine him back, thinking you were being inconspicuous. His luscious curls sat atop his large broad frame, shirt slightly tight across his massive chest. His legs spread open as he relaxed into the couch like a lazy king on a throne. A cigarette pursed between his soft lips as he strummed a guitar. He kept his eyes on you, strumming without even looking. His large, rough hands adorned with rings, tenderly kissing the strings.
"Your new guitar teacher!"
You snapped into reality. "What?" You responded sounding a little more eager than you wanted to but so in disbelief. " Slash was kind enough to lend his time to you. You remember him right?" Your dad said flippantly. He walked over to the couch, harshly scooting you along with him. No fucking chance. You tried to lock back in and play it cool. Slash lifted his guitar off his lap and set it aside. He leaned forward on the couch to greet you. His gaze on you now more apparent and obvious. He scanned you up and down. "Well look who's all grown up." He said in a teasing but serious manner. He half smirked at you. You weren't sure how he intended that to come across but the way it landed made your stomach flutter and your cheeks flush. "I've been told you're quite the player these days" He said, still scanning you. Was everyone else in the room so oblivious to the electricity unfurling? Or was it just you? Was his blatant hungry gaze all in your head because you wanted it to be real? Because you wanted slash to think you were pretty? Because you thought he was attractive? No. It was real. His primal gaze on your body was definitely real. How was everyone else missing this? The energy in the room? Did your dad not realize the borderline dangerous fixation that slash's eyes cast on you? You snapped back again, remembering why you were there.
What you yourself were oblivious to was the fact that his eyes had locked onto you the second you entered the room. Not recognizing the delicate girl who looked like a brand new doll getting thrown into a junkyard. She stuck out like an Angel to him. Her soft and bright features contrasted the worn out room. She looked pretty but young. How young? Who was this girl? This wasn't Y/N was it? His friends daughter he had agreed to tutor although half drunk at the time of his agreement. It couldn't be her, this girl here now was grown up and filled out. He couldn't help but pour his eyes over her entire body. Her soft and smooth legs, her thighs tucked under a little black leather skirt that hugged her hips so perfectly. A nice little ass under there too. God she was perfect. His pants grew a little tighter. He couldn't stop looking at her. She's like a timid little bunny, he thought to himself. Too timid. Too young. Need to check yourself, he snapped back into reality as she walked over to the couch. It was Y/N. Wow- She had to have been 19 or 20 by now if he remembered right. Still, what would a bright young girl like herself want with a old man like him? He steadied himself. Remember why she's here. She's not your next meal. Yet.
-
It was nearly midnight at the studio. But to everyone in the music industry it might as well have been 5'o clock in the afternoon. The night just getting started to most. After and hour or two of your dad catching up with the guys and some other musicians, the penthouse became filled with people. This was one of your average studio parties it seemed. Not so much a lesson. You did wonder why the lesson was so late at night in the first place. Now it was apparent that your dad had wanted to party with the crews and the lesson was a back burner idea. You were not really a partier. In fact not at all. As the party began to rage louder and heavier, the more you stuck out like a sore thumb. You felt silly and out of place. Surrounded by drunk messy adults, heavy metal blaring through the sound system. Everyone had filtered out of the studio and you sat on the couch once occupied by Slash earlier in the night. His peppery, musky cologne lingered on the couch, it smelled so good. He smelled so good. You couldn't stop seeing the image of his face in your mind. The depraved, hungry stare he had locked onto you earlier. It simultaneously struck butterflies and fear into your body. Your dad had disappeared into the party and it honestly gave you relief that he wasn't there to hover over you, casting shadows of his disappointment in you through every undertone of every word he spoke. Technically though, that did mean you could practice without anyone's judgement.
You began unpacking your guitar on the floor, checking the strings, your picks, your sheet music. You put your headphones on and turned on none other than Guns N' Roses. Trying to drown out the heavy metal playing in the other rooms. You hummed to yourself while you fiddled with your things.
Moments later, the door opened slowly and slash entered. He was alone, holding a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He immediately saw you over the corner by his favorite spot. He quietly shut the door behind him and made his way to the couch. Seeing you oblivious to his gaze, he quietly studied you from the couch. His thoughts once again snaking their way through impure desires. The way your reddened knees held you on the floor. A small glimpse of cotton panties poking out from under your skirt. Your thighs curving across your calves like a puzzle piece. He watched the way your delicate small hands tried to handle the far too oversized guitar laid across your lap. Fuck she's so cute he thought. He could hear the GNR song "Think about you" playing from your headphones. Unaware you weren't alone, you softly chirped out a few lyrics to yourself as you hummed.
"I think about youuuu, deep inside, I love you best."
He let out a breathy chuckle
"I think about youuuu, you know you're the one I want..."
He could watch you in your own world forever like this. Your sweetness enveloped the room. A breath of fresh air he had been craving for so long. It made his heart pound in his chest. He licked his lips. Studying his student. The adoration danced with a dark and perverse stream of wishes. To get closer to you. To feel your warmth and inhale your sweet scent. To touch you. Your soft and delicate skin. To have you. He had to have you. He left the couch and stood behind you. The light from one of the lamps now being shaded threw you out of your little world and you slowly turned around in confusion.
"Oh my god!" You yipped out in a fast spool of fear, embarrassment and shock. You twirled back to him on your knees. His tall dark body towered over you like a monolith. He smirked big. Looked down at you on your knees in front of him sent aches down his chest and into his abdomen. It drove him crazy. It was exactly where he wanted you if it were up to him. Your innocent eyes peering up to him. Your fear almost adding a little bit of extra sweetness to him. You looked so cute to him when you were scared. You quickly took off your headphones. "Didn't mean to scare you doll face." He chuckled maliciously. You hesitated to believe that was true.
Suddenly Slash broke the thin barrier of space that had been aching to be ripped apart between the two of you. His large strong hands wrapped around your small wrists and he yanked you on your feet. At full stature you still only met his sternum in height, still peering up at him. The warmth of his strong hands touching your skin shocked you in the best way. Deep swirls pooling inside you. His scent now strong in your presence. You were so close to him. Almost body to body. Your doe eyes glittered up at him. He let out a slight huff as his serpent stare connected with you once again. Like a hungry animal. "This perfect body. I need to ruin her pretty cunt. Fuck me..." he thought. He glanced down at your chest concealed in your tight shirt and then back to your face, know you saw him do it too. He wanted you to see. A slight curl of his lips as he did it. His big hands still wrapped around your dainty wrists. You slightly try to pull them away as to relieve him of his duty to help you up but his grasp tightens and his lips curl. "You've grown up little bunny" he broke the thick silence in his scratchy and deep voice. Giving one more soul stealing stare and he let you go before you could reply. He sat on the couch, resuming his king like pose. He took a drag from his cigarette and sucked the smoke into his nose. Staring at you as he slowly let the smoke trickle out of his lips and nose. God did he know what he was doing? Fuck he was so hot you thought. You wanted to just climb on top of him and steal the smoke right out from his mouth. "So I've been told" you sneer back. "And you're sassy now too? Tsk tsk" he clicked jokingly. "So.." you ignore his quip. "When do I get this lesson of yours?" You ask earnestly. His eyebrow raises. Was that a serious question? He thought. The innocent and curious nature of your voice. He tried to ignore his pants becoming more uncomfortably tight again. He placed a guitar over his lap and strummed to hide anything. "I have a couple things I could teach you little bunny."
You wondered if his statement was two folded or if you were just imagining things. The conversation could have easily been interpreted as normal to an unsuspecting person. So your reply you camouflage in case his intention isn't what you thought. "I want to learn so many things. I'll be the best student. I promise" you say sweetly. That drives him crazy. This girl knows what she's doing doesn't she? He thought. He thinks on a reply before saying anything. Combing his mind to think what the next move is here. Calculating.
Everything else falls away and you deem it in this moment to finally have something YOU want for a change. No more expectations. If it fails it fails but it's not like you lose anything. It's not like anyone cares, let alone this massive superstar in front of you who can have anyone he wants.
Your need for his touch makes you brave and you trace your fingers over his as he plays. He doesn't stop at this though but glances at you. "I can be a real good student, Slash." You coo to him in exactly the right tone to drive him crazy. This now stops him. Hearing his name escape your perfect lips. He needs to have you. All to himself. As soon as possible. He traces his ring decorated fingers over yours on the neck of the guitar. You hover your face at the head of it. His fingers slowly snake up the neck. He takes a final pause before connecting with your skin once again. His thumb grazes your bottom lip. Goosebumps explode across your arms. The tip of his thumb dips into your mouth, he rests it atop your tongue. "Sweet girl" he whispers gravelly. He doesn't know your slit is wet with eagerness just as you don't know his cock is throbbing with excitement. He removes his thumb slowly from your mouth and grips your jaw with his robust hand. He pulls your face forward to him. "Do you want to be a good girl for me Y/N?" His hand tightly gripping your face. You ignited something inside him. You awoke something so primitive. He set his guitar aside and you quickly took its place on his lap. Your light warm weight resting on his crotch. You felt his bulge already at full extent. It felt good against your panties. You give it a slight grind as you secure yourself on top of his lap. He lets out a low sharp groan and gently throws his head back, leaving his thick neck open for the taking. You start peppering small kisses up his neck. His warm silver scruff brushes against your lips as his jaw clenches. You meet his ear.
"I want to be your good girl Slash." You whisper in his neck. You felt him throb underneath your wet panties.
He needs to fuck you. You were like a precious gem to be scrounged after. He wanted all of you. He needed to make you his. To own you entirely.
Climbing him like a jungle gym. He pulls you back with your hair in his fist. He grips your face again tighter this time and makes you look at him.
"Are you sure you want this?" He asks.
"Please" You cry.
-
You lock the door The air seems to leave the room. Is this really happening? What's happening? Does he just want to fool around? To kiss me? To fuck me? God I need him to fuck me. Your thoughts raced at the reality before you.
Suddenly his hands snake around your waist. His warmth flush against your back. You let out a small gasp of surprise and pleasure. His large hand grips your entire neck tilting it to the side. He sprinkles gentle kisses down your neck and you let out a sigh of pleasure. "I'm going to ruin you Y/N. You know that?" He cooed. "I'm going to make that pretty cunt of yours mine." He taunted. You let out a whimper.
I want to ravish her but at the same time I feel like I could break her in half at a single touch. He thought.
Fuck it. I need to have her."
You become blind with pleasure and melt into his arms. Still gripping your neck. He walks you both backward and falls back on the couch, towing you onto his lap. Still behind you, he fists your hair in his hand and the other travels down to your thighs. You get increasingly needy for more. You grind your ass on his lap. His ringed fingers tease up your inner thigh. "You ready to be a good little bunny for me?" He affirms one more time before letting himself go feral on your body.
"Please Slash"
"Please what baby? Use your words honey"
"Please fuck me. I need you. Please." You whine.
That was all the confirmation he needed. He just wanted to hear you say it again. Hearing you beg for him pushed him over the edge. He grips your hair tightly again. Ensuring your neck is wide open. He is suddenly completely animal. He dives into your neck and collar, this time his kisses are many and messy. He bites your neck. You whimper louder this time and he moans into your neck in reply. "That's its sweet girl. Let me hear that pretty little voice of yours" he pants
His fistful of your hair, guiding your neck open. His other hand slides up your skirt and finds your panties.
"My little bunny is already wet? That's a good girl." He praises into your ear from behind. You arch your hips into his hand. Needing more.
"Needy girl, aren't you?"
His hand moves from your hair to your breast. His large hand completely covering it. He gives it a strong squeeze and then slips it underneath your shirt and bra. You gasp as you feel his rough hand hold you. He loves the way your tits feel. Grinding your ass on his lap he begins rubbing circles on your panties. Right where it feels so good.
"I've wanted to do this since the minute you walked in tonight. In your tight little skirt. It drove me crazy." He whispers with hot breath on your ear. Still working his hands simultaneously on you. He shoves his hand into your panties and starts toying with your soaked cunt.
"So wet for me huh dollface?" He grins feeling his way through your warm folds. He hikes you up higher on himself and enters a finger inside you.
"Oh fuck Slash." You moan.
"Spread those pretty legs for me doll"
"This pretty pussy is mine now, you understand?" He growls in your ear. His hands so muscular and talented, he effortlessly slides in and out of your pussy while making perfect pinches on your nipple simultaneously. The years of guitar playing shining through his fingers. He plays you. His thrusts feel so fucking good inside you. You grind down on his fingers, he holds you tight in his arms like a wild animal trying to squirm. You grind your ass back on his cock, feeling his size through his jeans. He groans. "I need to see that pretty cunt". He exits you and places you on the couch facing outward and he kneels before you. He lays you back and grabs your legs and pulls you forward to his face. He carelessly flips your skirt up and hikes it over your hips, exposing your panties underneath.
"You don't need these anymore" he says. You raise your hips as he slides your panties down and off your legs. The cool air washes over your exposed bottom.
Now bare, he spreads your legs open wide and looks at your pussy as he prepares to dine on it like a wolf with fresh meat. "Such a pretty cunt" he gives it a slap and before you can fully react to the surprise or pain, his face disappears into your legs. His warm tongue glides right into your pussy.
"Oh fuck." You moan softly. You can't think straight. You lace your fingers into his thick curls.
Heavy rock muffles in the background but all you focus in on is the sounds of his lips on yours. He eats you like a savage. He looks up at you through dark eyes and flattens his whole tongue up your pussy in one long stroke.
"You taste so good baby."
You whimper. You need more. He looks at you with hooded dark eyes. He needed more.
He stands up and unbuckles his belt. You sit up on your knees and take over. Your hands stop his own and you look up at him. "Can I do it please?" You almost beg. He takes no time to think on that and allows you to continue. Your eyes line with his tanned happy trail peeking out from under his shirt. You dip your fingers into his waistline and feel a massive warm shaft. The other hand pulling down his waistline. You free his throbbing cock. It glistens along its thick veins. The girth is incredible. You waste no time and lick the pre cum off the tip. That send him into a craze. He tips his head back and groans loudly. "Fuck baby. Be a good girl for me." He commands. You take him in your mouth -or try to. He's so big but you manage to take it all in down to the back of your throat. You gag slightly on its size. He tastes so good. You Bob your head up and down. Swiping your tongue all over in a messy fashion. He fists your hair again and starts guiding your head on his hard cock. He lets out a deep hiss and pants faster.  You look up and see the muscles in his throat clenching. He looks down at you as he continues thrusting into you. "That's a good girl. That's such a good girl" he pants in disbelief and pleasure. Sweat beads down his face. Tears well in your eyes as you choke on his size. Giving a few last hard thrusts he slips himself out of your mouth and caresses your messy spit covered face. Looking at you on your knees if front of his cock, the hungry look on your face. It makes him throb. It's almost painful. "Lay down baby" he says. You obey and lay back vertically on the couch. He removes his pants and shirt, exposing a muscular yet softly toned and tan abdomen, decorated with a large tattoo across his stomach. He then leans over and removes your shirt and bra. All that remained was the small leather skirt riding up your waist more like a sash than a skirt now. He hovers over you, his necklaces hanging from him. He opens your legs and gives his cock and few pumps before teasing your soft wet entrance. "Look how sweet you look." He smirked devilishly. "Please fuck me slash" you beg. He grits his teeth out of pleasure to hear those words come from your mouth. Hours earlier this was nothing but a perverted fantasy in his mind. But now he had you, naked underneath him. Ready for his cock. He leaned down to your face and gripped it once more. His hand on your face, he licked your breasts briefly. You try to tip your head back but he forces it forward. " Look right at me honey. Right here. Let me see that pretty face as I fuck you. Are you ready? You're so ready." He grumbles out. He smiles at you, a painful grip on your face, forcing you to look straight at him. His tip brushes the leaking wetness from your pussy all around like a paintbrush. And then slowly he slides his cock in.
You want to squint your eyes shut in pleasure, he gives your head a firm shake to remind you to look at him "I know baby I know." He growls. He himself tries to control his voice through his own searing pleasure. You whimper loudly
"Oh fuck Slash oh my god" You sharply inhale and whine out.
"That's it little bunny, let me hear your pretty voice".
He coos as he begins thrusting in and out of your wet hole. His grunts vibrate your body. His thrusts rock your body like ocean waves. He begins a faster rhythm almost If only to watch your breasts sway up and down with each thrust. His stance towering over you.
You continue letting out moans. Your moans are like honey to him. Weakening his limits with each sweet cry out.
"Oh that's a good girl taking my cock." He coos again.
"Slash I can't-" words fail you. You begin feeling a familiar tenseness overtake your body. 
"Is my pretty girl going to cum out of her pretty cunt?" He teases.
His rhythm increases. His rough skin slapping agains your soft supple skin. Sweat drips down his tanned abdomen. The power of each thrust inside of you increasing.
He feels your wet walls tightening around his cock. Looking down at you getting fucked by him- he was close too.
"Slash I'm-" you moan
"Be a good girl and cum for me doll-face. Look at me, look at me."
"That's it, you can do it" he encourages before tipping over his own edge. His grunts louder and more animal. His chains sway above you. He slaps against you. His brow furrows and his sweaty curls drape along his face as he pants like a dog in heat.
The bittersweet finale of stars bursts throughout your body. Your pussy tightens over his cock once more in ecstasy.
"Oh that's such a good girl" he grunts as he also reaches his breaking point. He releases hot white spurts inside of your quivering cunt.
A loud grunt leaves his throat. His large cock twitches inside you, finishing you off with pure pleasure. He smiles still thrusting inside you. Shoving his cum deeper inside
"That's a good girl, take it. Take it all." he whispers
The wetness leaks out of you as he pulls out. You both panting for air.
"God you're beautiful. You're perfect" He says breathlessly. He looks at his disheveled masterpiece below him. Completely braindead fucked. You blush hard. A shyness making its way back to your senses. He continues eyeing you. He softens his hand on your face, thumbing your cheek gently.
He protectively dotes on you as he helps re dress you again. Taking pride in taking care of you like this. You feel satisfied yet silly. You blush as he finishes and smooths him hand down your hair. "I own you." He whispers.
To him. The most beautiful girl was now his and his alone. He felt prideful and protective of his girl. He didn't want anyone else here to even glance at you. You were too sweet and kind for a place like this. Parts of him questioned his own morality for corrupting something so delicate. But he was too far gone.
He had unlocked the door with luckily no one having tried to find them in the past hour. In precise timing, axl drunkenly stumbled through the studio door. "Studying guiar at a time like this?" He slurred.
"Careful now girlie or you'll end up the teachers pet."
"Alright fuck off" Slash Ushered him out the door and closed it. He locked it again.
You sat embarrassed on the couch and he sat next to you.
"You are a little teachers pet aren't you?" He smirked.
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fleet-of-fiction · 4 months
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Jake Kiszka // Female reader
Summary: You finally give in to a night of passion with Jake. The sexual tension building through a succession of late night texts and chance encounters. When finally you find yourselves at the same event, a game of sexual cat and mouse ensues until you find yourselves behind a door you can finally lock.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Public sex. Use of sex toys. Voyeurism. Masturbation. Dirty talk. Oral. Fingering. Rough sex. Butt stuff.
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Jake had that unrelenting darkness, just simmering below the surface quality about him. That was why you'd chosen him. His inherent sweetness was why you'd trusted him. But there was nothing that ever tasted so sweet that wasn't bad for you. You knew he was bad for you the moment you had crossed paths with him.
Just that burning intensity which had drawn you in had immediately disarmed you. Even though he'd smiled and been cordial and shaken your hand when it was offered to him, you'd felt the thorns of a blooming rose in his touch. And you liked it. The prickle of his gaze, hidden beneath a politeness that was confident and at first glance; intimidating. He made you question his intentions from the first instance.
Time had served you both well. Presenting you with moments where you continued to encounter each other both socially and professionally. These happenstances creating a mounting friction with each hand shake evolving into cheek kisses and brief embraces. Conversations which had started with innocence slowly sank into depravity. Finding opportunities to speak alone simply to melt into debauchery and mirth in the shared merriment of erotic confessions.
You couldn't. You wouldn't. Would you? It was all just an egotistical game, wasn't it? To see which of you would blush first. Until phone numbers were exchanged and the rules were irrevocably changed. Turning it from inadvertent flirtations into entirely intentional desires.
He used his words with such careful candour. Like poetry. His physical presence distracted you so often that the reprieve from it was welcomed whenever you laid in bed at night; the recipient of sexually deviant messages that drove your morals into untenable question.
The truth was that Jake was charismatic in a way that forced you to pay attention. His wit and kindness; forebears to a wicked shamelessness that toyed with your own. He derived from you that which could not speak it's own name. The type of arousal that made you feel perverted from the mere mention of wanting it.
But you did want it. You wanted him to be unable to look you in the eye the morning after. To actualise all that midnight prose of desecrating your body until you were sexually ruined. You wanted him to put his vulgarity to good use. To know that he had meant every single sinful word.
"If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"
You were standing in the middle of an over zealous banquet hall. The type of place that often held these black tie events that required the sort of attire that was not remiss on a red carpet. You clutched a champagne flute in your hand, the delicate glass stem sitting snugly against your cleavage as you cast an eye across the room.
He had approached from behind. Predatory in the way he had been watching you carefully for several minutes before bringing his mouth so close to your ear that the heat of his breath had drawn your lips apart before the sound of his voice.
Playful in his advance, you couldn't help but respond indifferently with a facetious smile and refusal to turn around and face him.
"I don't know what kind of girl you think I am."
Your response was indicative of the roles you had taken. Him, with his possessive need to compel you into bed with him. And yours, to uphold the pretence that it was all an illusion. That you were untouchable. That you would never allow him to truly have his way.
"The sort of girl that draws my attention away from every other woman in the room." He continued, bringing his lips even closer.
You were satisfied. Content that you had played the narrative well enough that if you turned around he still would think you intended to go home that night without knowing what his cum tasted like. Without the knowledge of his body and the way it moved against yours.
Enough talk. Enough coltish brushes of your hand against his forearm and tentative fingers at the small of your back. Enough willingness to participate in this endless foreplay that had yet to jump off the page.
"Is that so?" You replied, twirling on the balls of your feet in a pair of stiletto heels.
He was wearing a roguish grin. The sort of expression that you had come to know as one that served as an aperitif to the way you knew he would dance you into a corner in order to have you all to himself.
You were wearing a backless gown. Pitch black. He had already studied the flow of it, that much you were certain of. His eyes settled on the deep cowl of the front. The curve of your breasts tempted him to lower his gaze, but he was staunchly refusing to give you that gratification.
You were unintentionally matched. His waistcoat and jacket of the same pitch and ilk of your dress. The chains around his neck that sat against his open chest were ancient silver. Not too dissimilar to the tone of the clutch bag in your other hand.
"Am I to believe that you intend to behave like a gentleman tonight, Jacob?" You asked, keeping his eye contact as he reached for a passing tray of drinks and took one without so much as a cursory glance.
"Absolutely not." He retorted, taking a cautionary sip of what could only be described as sparkling wine. "How I'm expected to endure these types of evenings without your company to keep me captivated is beyond me."
You were bored. Or perhaps it was a boredom borne of knowing that he wasn't going to arrive until a little later in the evening. When you had completed a rotation of the room with small talk and mind numbingly monotonous chatter that by the time he had made his presence known, you were practically ready to make a hasty exit.
"Is that all I am?" You queried salaciously, taking note of the subtle way he had styled his dark, shoulder length hair that night. "A distraction from all the tedium?"
He would have you play this game a thousand times until he won it. The small tremble of his upper lip as he regarded you belied his need to remain formal and polite. He was already faltering. Without even knowing you were going to give in to him that night.
"As far as I am concerned, there is no one else here."
He was smug in that self confident sort of way. He knew that you were attracted to him but there was just enough doubt there that allowed you to hold a fractious tension between the two of you.
"Hmmmm, to be alone in a room with you."
You left him with that sentiment. Turning back around, not wanting to witness the inflection in his response as you edged a little closer to letting him know you were done playing games.
You felt the chill of his Atocha coins on the curve of your spine. Quite literally he pressed himself into your back, with the intention of speaking so quietly only his close proximity would bring enough volume for you to hear.
"We don't need to be alone in a room for me to wish that my tongue was buried deep into your pussy instead of this poor imitation champagne."
You kept your eyes trained on the ornate chandelier hanging from the centre of the room above. Conscious of the fact you were without underwear. The dress you had chosen simply did not allow for it.
"Imagine the looks on their faces." You purred devilishly, "If you were to sink to your knees where you stand."
He exhaled a plume of laboured breath against your shoulder, bringing a solitary hand to the slim spaghetti strap which sat there. Venturing into territory he had yet to step into, holding his breath to see if you would allow him to remain there.
"You've caused me nothing but a persistent need to masturbate of late." He confessed, taking the strap down with a fluid stroke of his palm. "I hope you understand that I wont be able to tolerate our musings for much longer. There will come a time where I truly need to have my face buried between those tremendous thighs."
You turned your head just enough for him to catch your jawline against his lips. The tendrils of hair which tumbled down from your intricate up-do brushed against his cheek.
"How about tonight?"
The intimation that you weren't stringing him along was not lost upon him. You felt the immediate stiffening of his body against yours. Your breathing synced up with his, shallow and deep. He took a moment to process what you had said. As if truly you were the only two people in the room. Stilled against each other like the silence after a storm.
"Don't you trifle with me, woman." He whispered brutishly, signalling the true pain of his torment.
"I wouldn't dare." You replied assuredly, allowing the hand in which you held your flute to lower just enough to catch the burgeoning swell of his manhood.
The banquet hall was situated in the grounds of a prestigious country club. The sprawling buildings were late 19th century with curated gardens and an interior of neoclassic art prints framed on high vaulted walls with lavish sculptures lining the narrow corridors.
It reminded you of the drafty old mansions in romance novels that were always home to a dastardly lord who would ravish his handmaidens in all manner of raunchy ways. And if you were going to be ravished yourself, you couldn't think of a more appropriate backdrop.
Jake took your flute out of your hand and dashed it on the nearest surface. Wrapping his hand around yours as he snaked you through the hustle and bustle. You would follow him wherever he intended to take you. Smiling as you passed by familiar faces, who watched on with subtle intrigue as to why you were being whisked away from the melee.
He cared very little for the enormity of the sound of his fist slamming into the ornately carved french doors at the back of the hall, allowing it to swing open as he led you into an empty stone pillared corridor. The thud of the door swinging back still echoed into the void as he checked to ensure you were completely alone.
"Wanted your arriving at Helm's Deep moment, did you?"
You eased yourself back against the nearest pillar, clutching your bag to your waist. Your bottom lip tucked beneath your teeth. He did not waste any time in furthering the torment. Staring at you like you had no right to look at him like that.
"You know I love it when you talk Tolkien to me." He jested a little, easing you into a light hearted subterfuge that would allow him to continue luring you into his debauched manifest.
"How else would you like me to speak?." You asked, tilting your chin to invite him closer. "Like your little handmaiden, my lord? Or would you prefer me as your harlot?"
There was a slit in your dress that extended almost entirely up to the curve of your hip. A daring choice, given the lack of underwear. As he approached, he lifted the fabric with the tip of his finger and moved it aside. Revealing your cunt to him for the first time.
He licked his lips and lowered his gaze. He studied the form of it, the soft strip of pubic hair that ran the centre of your mound and the way your labia sat like two pink ribbons beneath.
"I'm going to ruin this..." He ghosted the most feather light touch across your pussy lips. "Until you can't speak at all."
You dropped all the pretence. All the running commentary had brought you to a moment that required a certain level of honesty. If Jake had wanted to perform the most incredulous amount of proliferation in this foreplay, he had succeeded. You were throbbing incessantly. Your chest heaving against shallow breath at the sight of him looking at your cunt like that.
You reached forward and took his chains in your fist. Wrapping fingers around the silvery links that tinkled against each other as you lifted them into the narrowing space between you. Pulling him in, demanding that he put an end to this provocation.
You dropped your bag as he violently shoved you against the rough stone. His mouth crushed against yours, lips parted and softer than you'd anticipated given his urgency. His tongue was a delightful curiosity, enveloping yours as you finally gave in to him. You teased a pitiful moan from him as you tilted your head, hands rushing to his cheeks to deepen what was certainly the most tantalising kiss you'd ever had.
The rush of blood to your genitals was welcomed. What had been an errant throb of anticipation for most of the evening flooded to your swollen clitoris and engorged lips. Jake was irrepressibly hard, the fabric keeping you apart strained against the strict outline of his cock. You felt it pressed into your mound, coupled with the sensation of his tongue in your mouth and felt the bitter sting of overstimulation begin to rise.
"Turn around."
Although the words had been spoken softly, with a mouth that was still open against yours, the way he handled you was in direct conflict. You were savagely pulled around, made to hug the pillar as you were pressed into it. The rough surface of the round edge felt like sand against your exposed flesh. The juxtapostion of his body at your back had you feeling brutally and beautifully confined against the rough and the smooth.
A swift tug of the slit in your gown and your cunt was riding against the phallic stanchion, Jake moving behind you to keep his erection rubbed against the curve of your ass. Entirely at whim, you were certain he'd put very little thought into the action. He just needed the friction.
"You'll be my whore tonight." He decided, teasing a hand around your breast, your nipple growing hard against the pressure he applied. "And permit me to do as I please."
He already had you precisely where he could please himself. Your responding moan signalled consent as he rolled your nipple between his thumb and index finger. Sending thousands of your nerve endings into disarray. The river of arousal that ran down the centre of your body was flowing in opposing directions as your pussy continued to grate against the old stone. And the constant reminder of his raging blood at your back only served to assist you further in your journey to destruction.
"Be merciful, Jake." You pleaded, arching your back a little as it became too much for your clit to endure. "What do you intend to do with me?"
The way he tapered back, standing a little apart from you to catch his breath had you feeling cold. His lips were glistening with the moisture of your kiss, wiping them with the back of his hand as he stepped back. You moved to alleviate the pressure, noticing a darkened wet patch on the lighter coloured stone of the pillar as you let your gown fall back around your front.
"Hmm, look what you made me do." You professed, straightening out your hair and retrieving your bag from the ground as Jake continued to step further apart.
He looked at the obvious wet patch and smirked devilishly. Raking a hand down his stubbled upper lip and chin.
"Such a good girl for me, you don't need to worry about what I intend to do. I'll treat you right, you know that."
Right did not immediately mean that he would treat you within the confines of universally accepted rules. He'd read enough of your late night confessions to know that you didn't want to be placated with vanilla flavours. And neither did he.
"I'm not worried." You responded seductively, ensuring your eye lids were hooded just enough to make him do a double take.
You took great pleasure in seeing him charmed. The way he pulled on the tailored cuffs of his jacket and rounded his shoulders was a clear indication that you'd unsettled him. He cleared his throat and adjusted his crotch, attempting to hide his erection to no avail.
You handed him your clutch bag to hold and slipped your arm into the curve of his as he sank his hand into his trouser pocket.
"You look like you need to get fucked." He pointed out, escorting down the corridor as if he hadn't just moistened your pussy against one of the historical features of the house.
"First, I'd like a proper drink." You proposed, gesturing towards the dimly lit gentleman's lounge at the furthest end of the passage. "None of that cheap champagne muck."
He turned the corners of his beautiful mouth down and nodded. Raising eyebrows that silently agreed to your request. He took the lead once again, opening the door for you to step into the more intimate setting.
The lounge was peppered with high backed leather chairs and small round tables. A roaring fireplace with a tanned couch facing it and a mahogany backgammon board set out against an art deco lamp was where he placed you.
There was a low din of masculine voices, intimate conversations and the scent of expensive whisky being poured. You sat diligently by the fire, opening your compact mirror to check the state of your face as Jake went to get you something a little more refined.
There was a rosy hue to your cheeks and your lipstick had all but faded. Ordinarily you would have reapplied it, but it seemed futile knowing that he would only ruin it again. Instead, you fished around for your chap stick. Eager to put some cherry on your next kiss.
Your hand settled on the small, bullet shaped object that certainly wasn't your chap stick. And you certainly couldn't remember putting it in your bag. You looked over to where Jake was standing at the bar, one leg raised on the brass foot rail as he tapped his credit card against the surface.
Your breathing elevated as you pulled it out, the sleek chrome elliptical whirring to life as you pressed the dome shaped head. Whatever memory you had of a night where you'd decided to sneak it into your clutch evaded you, but you were secretly pleased with yourself as you watched him approach.
"I've got a surprise for you."
He placed a glass of crisp white wine in front of you, a glass of something resembling nectar in his own. Taking his seat at your side, his arm extended out on the back of the couch, he slipped his wallet back into his breast pocket.
"A surprise? For me?!" He replied, with excited inflection.
You quite liked it when the veneer slipped a little. When that playful sweetness dripped out from behind the brooding exterior. All of which evaporated as you slipped the shiny little bullet into his hand and waited for his reaction.
He studied it, turning it around in his fingers like a guitar pick.
"You came prepared."
You picked up your glass and savoured the taste. "A former version of myself must have predicted the outcome of this evening."
Jake scanned the room. There were a few men standing at the bar, an apparent card game was unfolding at one of the tables on the opposite side of the room. But with the high backed chairs shrouding most of the lounge guests, it felt perhaps as if you were greeting a destiny neither of you could fight. The stars had aligned.
"Why don't you come here?" He said, inviting you into the space between his lap and the back of the couch. "Give my hands something to do."
You exchanged a daring look. He was deadly serious. Your tongue was in your cheek, your legs crossed as you took another sip of wine for dutch courage.
"You don't intend to use that on me here, surely?" You arraigned his intention, skirting around it playfully.
"Come over here and find out." He insisted, reaching to draw you into the little nook he'd created for you. "Seems a shame not to make you cum in that stunning little dress."
You felt the heat of his body as you nestled in. Your arm extended out on top of his, both of you facing the fireplace with your backs to the rest of the lounge. With your legs still crossed, he pushed the fabric away from your knee, allowing the slit to open and completely reveal your leg.
You felt a rush of adrenaline course through your veins as he planed a clammy palm up from your knee into the flesh of your inner thigh with his opposite hand. Breathing heavily into your ear, not dissimilarly to the way he had initially greeted you. The force of your legs being parted made you gasp. His hand roughly moving your knee away, allowing you to be fully exposed for him.
"Jake..." You whispered, eyes closed as he brought his lips to your lobe and sucked it between his gentle teeth.
"Be still." He instructed, "Don't draw attention."
You could hear the quiet whimpers in his breath as he brought his hand between your thighs. Kneading the flesh there, revelling in the wetness which had spread between them. You tried to keep yourself as composed as possible. Consciously aware that any betrayal of sound or movement would give your position away.
"Let me do all the work." He uttered in the lowest register of his voice, a sultry sound that made you tremble beneath the folds of your gown.
You were awakened there, on that leather couch, holding your tongue against feral screams. Jake ran fingertips down your pussy lips, the ghost of a touch that made you hold your breath until he savagely plunged them inside you. Two fingers tucked away within your walls.
He held you firm. Kept you rigid within the circle of his arms as you fought against him.
"Oh, no you don't..." He warned, wrapping solid arms around your waist. "You be a good girl for me now and don't move."
He pulled his fingers out slowly, gauging your facial expressions before thrusting them back inside. The bullet was poised in his opposite hand, vibrating in his palm as he ran it across your mound.
"You have no idea how fucking hard this is..." You moaned, leaning your head back into his shoulder.
"I do..." He replied comfortingly, letting the bullet roll across the hood of your clit, keeping it there with his thumb as he continued to pull his fingers in and out of you. "I know how badly you want to scream. Roll your hips against my hand. I know you want to fight me, but you're doing so well."
His praise sent you into orbit. Breathlessly panting, it wasn't so much a fight as it was an entire battle within to keep your body from physically responding. You could hear footsteps behind you, voices as they passed. All it would take would be one step too close to see your predicament.
"That's it, let me have this pretty little pussy..." He urged, hooking deep within you, laying soft pressure on the sweetest spot he could find.
"Oh, fuck..."
You knew the moment the words slipped out of your mouth that somewhere in the room a conversation fell silent. Jake tutted, stilling his ministrations until he could be certain you would do precisely as you were told.
"Can't have you many declarations like that, little vocalist." He remonstrated, "Seeing as my hands are a little busy I'll have to give your mouth something to do."
He pulled his fingers out of you. Dripping with your juice, he made you watch him catch a taste as he brought them to his lips. Leaving you weak and powerless as the bullet slipped down into your entrance. You flinched and it made him smile.
"You taste sweet." He mentioned casually, as if he'd just swallowed a spoonful of sugar. "Why don't I give you something sweet to taste?"
You would have submitted to anything, you were melted into his touch. All you could do was sit there whilst he reached for his whiskey and took a languid sip. Before you could process his mindset, your lips were burning as he brought the whiskey to your mouth and spat it straight from his into yours.
You weren't averse to the taste, but it felt like tiny little needles were popping in your tongue. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and eyed you tentatively.
"Don't you dare swallow it." He cautioned, bringing a hand to cup your chin as you held the dark liquid in your mouth. "I want you to keep that there until I'm finished with you."
A tiny droplet escaped the corner of your mouth. Jake's tongue was there to lap it up as he pressed the bullet inside you a little further. You could feel yourself want to swallow, pining to feel it slip down the back of your throat. You could only beg with your eyes. Your mouth was completely immobilised. And you'd never seen such a look of sweet satisfaction on his face. The natural curve of his lips turned upward, his eyes were soft and half closed as he teased the bullet in and out of you.
Your own hands were sat idle at either side of you. Your body bouncing a little with his careful thrusting. You could feel how unbearably hard he was. You were consciously aware of keeping your mouth clamped shut, too. Despite every fibre of your being telling you just to swallow it. Entirely overstimulated. On the verge of spitting it back into his mouth just so you could have your voice back.
"Such a naughty lil' thing, aren't you? Letting me do this to you right here where I'm supposed to be a gentleman."
The fingers were inching back inside, clutching the bullet along for the ride. Easing in slowly, you could hear Jake groan under his breath as you held steady.
"I didn't make that promise, though. Did I? Quite the opposite, in fact. You make me want to be anything but gentlemanly."
You were becoming desperate and he could see it there in the way your brow knitted into deep furrows. Your lips began to tremble, allowing more droplets to spill down your chin and onto the back of his hand. You hummed from behind your closed mouth.
"Alright, sweet girl." He allowed, "You can have your voice back. Swallow for me..."
He strummed your lower lip with his thumb, pulling it until he was certain every drop had gone down. You were dizzy, on the fringes of a climax you were certain he would deny of you given your setting. Feeling your heart sink into your stomach as he pulled out the bullet and silenced it. He brought your knees together and pulled your dress back into place. Leaving you with a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth. And a sense of bereavement that you'd been left like that.
Jake leaned back into the couch with the rest of his drink in his hand and allowed you a moment of space. Scarcely able to blink into reality what he had just done, you picked up the rest of your wine and downed it in one venomous gulp.
"You are a cruel master." You said weakly, your dress peppered in patches of your mess. "And now you dare to sit there with a cock so hard I can see the shape of your tip through the fabric."
He was unrepentant. But still, he ran the bullet across his lip and took a deep breath before slipping it into his inside pocket. Drawing from you the most debauched giggle.
"My cruelty is only to serve you better." He explained, swilling the last drops of his whiskey with a cool hand. "Imagine if I had just allowed you to cum? The mess you'd have made. You'd have brought the room to shame."
He was playing with you. Searching for a hint of remorse for what you had just done and finding you wanting.
"Who's shame?" You fired back, "Certainly not mine. I'm at my best when I have a beautiful man's hands inside me."
He polished off his drink. "Consider me your puppeteer, then."
You were at an impasse. Drinks finished and an inescapable rising tension as you held each others gaze.
"You know, I never actually told you just how attractive I consider you to be. Have I?" He stepped into a realm that had yet to be explored. "But you should know that I thought you were the most beautiful woman in every single room I have found you in since we first met."
You rolled your eyes playfully. "He won't let me cum but he will tell me I'm pretty. I suppose I should be grateful."
He held out his hand for you to take. "Come on, I need a cigarette."
The air was crisp and cool as you stepped outside. The guests who were leaving awaited the valet by the gravel driveway. Spot lights on the lawn illuminated the grandiose entrance, and you felt the chill of the twilight breeze through your hair.
"Are you cold?" He asked, running the outer side of a curved finger up the gooseflesh of your naked arms.
You shuddered against the unexpected touch and the tenderness laced within his question. The weather was tolerable, but before you could respond he had slipped off his jacket and placed it around your shoulders, guiding you towards the heavily sign posted smoking courtyard.
"What happened to your pledge to be ungentlemanly tonight?" You reminded him, the scent of his cologne drifting heavily into your senses as you pulled his jacket around you a little tighter.
"Cigarette break." He shrugged, pulling out a pack of smokes from the inside pocket, the back of his hand smoothly coming to rest against your hard nipple.
He tapped the pack against his knuckles and offered you one. You pulled out the marlboro light and placed it at your lips as he struck a match for you. Cupping his hands around the tip as you sucked it to life.
"Do you think anyone knew what we were doing back there?" You dared to venture, exhaling a plume of smoke into the ether.
Jake was blowing smoke rings absently, leaning against the wall as he watched people coming and going. He was entirely at ease, letting his gaze fall to you every now and then. Looking away when he noticed you looking back.
"You care?" He replied nonchalantly, "I bet some of those cocks haven't been hard in years judging by the clientele."
You almost choked on laughter, your throat only used to the smoke on the odd occasion you chose to accept one when offered. You weren't a smoker, per se. But Jake was adept, letting it rise from his mouth back into his nostril without any difficulty.
"I hope they enjoyed the show."
He was looking at you peculiarly. Leaning against the side of the building with one leg bent, as if he was seeing you for the very first time. There was a curious smile on his lips, with an edge of mischief and wonder.
"What?" You asked pertinently, wondering if it was obvious that you weren't a regular smoker, becoming a little insecure about the way you were holding the cigarette between your fingers.
Jake took a heavy drag and flicked his cigarette into the gravel. Careful to blow above and not in front of you, he back you into a corner. The cigarette fell from your fingers as you stared up at him, not caring where it landed. His hand was at your throat as you were pressed against the courtyard gate.
"You like to be watched?" He asked, rolling his thumb against the underside of your chin. "You want every dick in the room to be hard over you?"
The untenable ache that had begun in earnest back in that banquet hall began to throb incessantly. The way he turned your head from side to side a little, studying your features for an answer that would satisfy him was making your heart beat significantly faster.
"No..." You mumbled, swallowing hard as he drew his lips closer. "Just yours."
He kissed you with more purpose now. The taste of smoke and whiskey slaked your tongue, deep and soft. His hands ventured into the folds of his jacket, coming to rest at your sides. The sound of his whimpers and yours rising as his mouth travelled into the curve of your neck.
You couldn't stop yourself from it. The interminable need to know how his cock felt in your hands. He'd been lilting from hard to soft ever since he'd snook up from behind you, the need for relief must have been unbearable.
You could feel it pressed against your stomach as he deepened the kiss even further. Lacing his tongue across your collar bone, shoving his jacket a little off your shoulder to sink his teeth into you. Leaving his mark right there in your flesh.
Your fingers ran across the edge of his belt. Deftly pulling the buckle apart as you continued to kiss him. The shy tinkle of it as you yanked on it made him smile against your mouth. The button snapped open at your command, the zipper slid down with ease. And the moan which escaped his lips as you wrapped your fingers around his shaft was like a symphony.
He rested his forehead against yours, his gaze pointed down as he watched you pull his cock out. In the soft glow of the courtyard lights, you could make out the tones of it. The raging veins that danced up his shaft beat hard against your palm. The sweet pinkness of his tip coupled with white droplets of pre-cum that pooled against your coiled fingers was like art. And when you sank your hand down, the sounds he made were melodic.
"Yeah, just like that..." He whispered, keeping a watchful eye on your slow and deliberate strokes.
You wanted to tug on him harder, make him spill into your hand. You wanted to hear him pant and moan and beg for it. Just the sweet little breaths he was making now was enough to make you feel like you could throw caution to the wind and fuck him right there under the lights, under the direct view of the cctv camera that was pointed right at you.
But you could hear footsteps on the gravel. Jake growled fiercely as he pulled away, leaving your hand coiled around air. He tucked himself back into his pants fastidiously, cursing under his breath as you watched with slight amusement.
"I can't keep doing this." He affirmed, bringing a tensed hand to the gate behind you as he pulled it open. "I've imagined it a thousand times. What it'd be like to fuck you. And this is not what I had in mind."
You stepped aside as a group of guests from the banquet hall event trickled in. Drunk and loud, they were people you both knew from the Nashville music scene. They tried to engage you both, not picking up on the residual sexual tension that was still hanging in the air. Jake was cordial. You were delightful. Trying to hold drunken small talk, standing there while Jake was funny and charming.
And it did nothing to quell your hunger. Only serving to make you more ravenous. He was confident and jovial, keeping his hand at your back protectively. The type of foreplay you hadn't anticipated. There was just something about standing at his side that made you irrevocably turned on.
"Well, if you'd excuse me I really should be getting my lady here a cab home." He said eventually, taking his opportunity once there was a lull in the conversation.
You were ushered out of the courtyard. Beyond the line of shrubs on the patio extended an expanse of freshly cut lawn, the bottom of which was shrouded in darkness. But you could see the trees swaying in the night breeze, their shadows against the starlit sky.
"You're getting me a cab, huh?" You teased, tucking his hair behind his ears as if you were more familiar with him than you truly were.
He didn't seem to mind.
"If I thought I could get away with everything I want to do to you here, then I would take you back inside." He reasoned, inspecting the teeth marks on your shoulder. "But as it stands I need this sensational dress off of your body before I do something I'll fucking regret."
You took a piece of his hair between your fingers. Twirling it around, letting him wrap his arms around your waist. You could still feel the flushes of his closeness, how it felt to be in his arms after imagining it night after night. He was truly an enigma. The sexual way he'd pursued you leaving no other aspect of him laid bare. You felt as if you'd just been given a glimpse. And he deserved to know what sort of woman he'd been chasing after, too.
"Come with me." You said, leading him back inside.
You slid off his jacket and handed it back to him as you confidently strode into the lobby. Letting your hips do all the work, like you were strutting down a catwalk.
The reception was always manned while ever there were guests present, especially on event nights. You'd had occasion to attend these several times before, and knew something of the managerial structure of the place. You'd even had tennis lessons over on the courts a few summers ago, taking advantage of an ex-lover's membership.
As luck would have it, a young man was standing behind the desk. His attention somewhat drifting between the computer screen in front of him and the noir dream walking towards him.
You clocked his name tag as you leaned onto the desk, palms flat and your breasts hunched together as you fawned over him.
"Hey there." You said casually, as if he was your friend. "...Benjamin."
He couldn't have been a day over twenty, you presumed one of the college students who made up a bulk of the hospitality staff. The way he shyly smiled, trying to keep a grip of his composure as you flirted with him was a clear indication of his naivety.
"Oh, I can't wait to see this..." Jake said underneath his breath, his jacket over his folded arms as he stood back to watch.
You shot him a fiery look before turning back to your young acquisition.
"Can I help you tonight, Ma'am?" He asked, like he was reading off a script.
"Oh, sure you can Benjamin." You replied, "Do you mind if I call you Ben?"
He blinked rapidly. Like a deer in the headlights. "Of course, what can I do for you this evening?"
You leaned even further onto the reception desk. "Well, you see Ben... I'm having a terrible time locating the manager's office. You know, Beverly Seagrave, her and I are old friends and she promised me the keys to the Platinum Suite tonight. God bless her soul, her husband Jerry is just sick as a dog right now and I told her...Beverly, Sweetie...it's fine. But she insisted that I have those keys tonight. Something of a belated birthday gift and since I had to be here tonight anyway for a work thing... well, she was kind enough to leave the keys in her office for me."
The little kink in his brow indicated that he wasn't entirely on board. You dared to reach a timid hand over the counter, resting it against his forearm.
"The Platinum Suite is booked tonight, Ma'am. Are you sure that she didn't mean one of our Gold standard suites?"
You clutched his arm tightly. "Yes! Oh, I'm such a ditz. Thankyou, Ben. If you could just point me toward her office, I'll go grab them."
He hesitated. "I'm not supposed to let guests back there..."
"You won't even know we were there, you have my word." You crooned, tracing the line of his cuff. "I'm just going to scooch on back there, grab my birthday gift, and I'll be out of your hair."
You could see the uncertainty. The way his chin wobbled under your intense scrutiny. He hadn't covered this in his country club training manual. You'd gone completely off script and you could feel his body tense as a wet rope beneath your subtle touch.
It was your intention to sequester somewhere in a room with an inner lock. Somewhere that nobody would think to disturb. A cloak room or an office, all you had to do was get past the receptionist.
"Uh, there's nothing here in the notes about a guest collecting anything..." He continued, tapping away on his computer with one hand, too afraid to move the one you'd commandeered.
"No, well there wouldn't be." You replied, dropping your tone into something a little more authoritative, pulling your hand away to inspect your nails. "This is a private arrangement between myself and my dear friend, Beverly."
Jake snickered. Clearly amused by your attempt.
"Ben, please don't make my companion here have to make any unnecessary phone calls. I'm sure Beverly wouldn't appreciate being disturbed at home whilst poor Jerry is feeling so unwell. And I know she would be entirely displeased so discover one of her oldest friends was denied such a thoughtful gift."
You noted the bead of sweat collecting at his temple. He seemed to be shaking, licking his lips nervously as he looked over at Jake.
"I, uh...I think her office is locked for the weekend, but..I...uhh...I guess I could let you have a set of key cards that I have here...I'd just need a name for checking you in..."
Without missing a beat, you reverted back to your previous flirtations. Under no illusion that you had most definitely flown too close to the sun.
"That was...interesting." Jake said, following you up the stair case that meandered towards the back of the club. "If you wanted to get a suite, all you had to do was ask."
Emboldened by what you had achieved, you were running on sheer adrenaline. Confounded that you'd managed to pull it off, the audacity of it. The way he'd stood there and watched you wrap that guy around your little finger. Confident in your ability to do so. You turned to him on the stairs, towering above him in your heels on the step above, and sank your teeth into his bottom lip.
The rush of arousal was overwhelming. The shift in the power dynamic was unmistakable. Jake hissed in pain as you sucked his lip into your mouth. But he didn't flinch against the way you pulled him in. Taking a fist of his hair and pulling his head back, biting across his jawline until you were sucking in the flesh at his throat.
"When we get into this room, I don't want a fucking safe word. Do you understand me?" You growled, lips pressed against his cheek.
He'd never seen you like this. The animal within rising, it was a revelation to him to see you consumed by passion. Your chest heaving against ragged breaths. He stepped up until you were beneath him.
"Understood." He whispered, "But after tonight, you're mine. Do you understand?"
His claim to you was enough to knock you off your perch. You went from savage creature to doe eyed in a single breath.
"Understood." You echoed.
You walked the rest of the way to the suite in mounting silence. Embroiled in a sense of rekindling desire, it had felt as if you'd been chasing that elusive climax all night. Jake had been all manner of things. Subservient. Dominant. Far too bold and far too charismatic for you to withstand.
He was, within himself, your orgasm.
You stepped into a modest room with a four poster bed as the centre piece. Throwing your bag onto the mahogany dresser, in keeping with the decor that was spread throughout the rest of the club. You ran a fingertip over the edge, pretending to inspect for dust, and then nodded your approval of the place.
No sooner had the door closed, Jake was removing his waistcoat. Watching you float around the room, pretending to be interested in the pieces of art on the walls and the white linen drapes hanging off the four bed corners.
You watched him pull his belt out of the loops in one smooth movement. Pulling the leather through his hands as he threw it onto the bed before shedding the rest of his clothes.
You picked up the belt. Continuing in your audience of his body. Your eyes darkened at the sight of him naked. His cock so rigid it stood away from his stomach and made you flood with moisture for what felt like the thousandth time that night.
"Are you mine, too?" You asked, raking the belt through your closed fist.
His answer was simple. "Yes..."
You ran the belt buckle down the underside of his shaft. "Then prove it."
He slid his hands into the straps of your dress. Rounding them off the curve of your shoulders and let the entire gown fall to the ground. His breath hitched in his chest at the sight of you. You saw him genuinely fall to nerves for the first time.
"Go and stand by the bed column." You instructed, giving him a moment to drink you in. "Arms up."
The way he did as he was told, keeping his eyes trained on you as he walked away felt like he was channelling all his power to you. The way he submitted so perfectly but could easily wear the dominance you needed for balance was astounding. Your soul cried out to know how he felt inside you. But you also needed to ride this wave of being at the helm of the ship.
He was smirking at you as you wrapped the belt around his wrists.
"I'll wipe that smile off your face." You hummed, pulling tightly on the leather strap, making him wince. "Not so hot now, are you?"
He took it so well. He didn't put up a fight. His beautiful face returning to that shit eating grin as you wrapped your hand around his cock.
"Oh, Jacob... you really have no idea, do you?"
You left him standing there like a work of art. You picked up his jacket from the floor and went inside the pocket where he had previously stashed your bullet.
You hadn't bothered to remove your heels. Slowly snaking your way towards him in nothing but your black stiletto's. Pressing the bullet into the head of his penis as you drove your hand down his shaft. Watching him fall to absolute pieces in the palm of your hand.
"Such a good fucking boy." You purred, "So so fucking good for me..."
Your tongue found its way back into his open mouth. The whirring of the vibration and his feral moaning damn near pushed you to the edge. He was leaking incessantly, sticky mess covered your fingers as he silently pleaded with you through unrestrained groans to give him a moments reprieve.
"Too much?" You presumed, "I'm just getting started..."
You knew that you would reap what you had sown. That he was gathering all the ways in which you touched him and was plotting your downfall. And you wanted it all. Ached for it all. Would savour every last drop of this night.
He'd earned his cock in your mouth. Every last inch. You didn't fall to your knees, you squatted down. Letting your pussy open, letting him see the lips spread wide apart. With one hand you slid the bullet against your clit, the other curled around his base. And without breaking a moment of eye contact, you looked up at his face as you ate his cock down.
His eyes rolled back. His jaw slack. His breathing shallow. You took the initiative to let him sink to the back of your throat, to let him completely consume your mouth. His grateful moans kept you spurred on, licking heavy stripes up and down, sinking his head into your mouth before sucking down on it until he hissed. You slaked your tongue over his balls, sucking the flesh there into your mouth and making him gag for breath.
"Dirty fucking bitch..."
You hummed your approval of his name calling as you continued to suck his dick, letting the vibrations between your pussy lips carry you into a further realm of arousal.
"Is that so?" You reckoned, shoving the head of his cock into the pocket of your cheek. "What am I?"
"A dirty fucking whore." He spat, rolling his hips into your mouth. "A filthy little cock sucking whore who needs to untie me right fucking now so I can punish her."
He wanted his power back.
"On one condition." You sighed, sliding yourself up the length of his body. "Make it hurt..."
The leather broke free. His wrists fell. He paused for the briefest moment to gaze into your eyes. A rare moment of romance in this pursuit of completion. And then it was gone, like two trains speeding past one another, you were gathered up in his arms and being slammed onto the mattress.
He parted your thighs with his knee, keeping one hand on your head. And then you felt the formidable snap of his palm across your ass. You squealed in equal pleasure and pain, the delight in your smile shrouded from him as he pulled back your hair so that he could get a better look of you.
"You like that?" He asked, rubbing his hand over the reddening cheeks.
You nodded profusely. Again he sent his palm raging across the curve of your ass, kneading the flesh there after each slap. Every spank making you cry out desperately.
"Oh, you like that don't you? My little whore." He almost sang to you, "Fuck, you're so damn pretty when you let me talk to you like that..."
You didn't know where it came from. The way Jake made you feel. So safe, so cherished. So completely aroused by his man handling of you. The way he reduced his words down to such degradation, and it did nothing except serve in your arousal.
"Ass up, pretty girl..." He grabbed you by the waist, positioned you the way he desired.
You held your weight on forearms, your up-do positively ruined. You blew wayward hairs out of your face and arched your back. Sinfully moaning as Jake opened your ass cheeks wide and sank his mouth into you without any prior warning.
"Oh, fuck...Jake...oh my god..." You cried out, rattling against the sensation of his tongue riding between your ass and down into the folds of your dripping cunt.
You could feel his mouth exploring your entrance whilst his nose languished above. Pressed deeply into parts of your body you'd neglected to explore yourself, let alone allow another into. He'd taken the liberty of it, and you were far too gone to be shy now. Even when he dared to slide the tip of his thumb inside, you snapped your head back and wailed for him.
Your hair spilled down your back as he pulled out the pin holding it together. Curls cascaded down your spine. When he wrapped the tendrils around his fist, you could scarcely breathe.
"You liked my tongue in your ass, didn't you?"
You were flushed pink and covered in a sheen of sweat, as was he.
"Give it to me, Jake. I can't take it anymore." You begged, lifted on to all fours by your hair.
He would have. He'd have given it all to you. Pressed against your back, his cock resting in the crook of your ass cheeks, he was planting a seed. Massaging his thumb down there, on the cusp of taking whatever he wanted from you.
But you were rudely interrupted by surreptitious banging on the suite door. A succession of loud thrums sounded over your heavy breathing.
"Open the door please!"
A voice boomed from the other side.
"We have reason to believe you have not paid for this suite! Open the door immediately!"
Jake buried his face into your shoulder blades, his body shaking against hysterical laughter.
"I guess someone called Beverly!" You giggled, turning around to meet his beautiful laughter.
You held each other for a moment. Falling into each other, the laughter unbearable as the bangs came more aggressively.
"If you don't open the door immediately, I will be forced to call security!"
"I don't feel like getting caught tonight, do you?" Jake asked, scrambling to gather his clothes.
You were already stepping back into your dress as he jumped into his pants, peering out of the window for an alternative exit. He slid up the pane, a rush of cold air fanned his hair away from his rosy cheeks.
"Do you trust me?"
You blinked at him, slipping your heels back on as you tried in vain to pile your hair back up. You hesitated on the way he peered downwards, throwing his jacket and waistcoat along with his shoes out of the damn window.
"Have you lost your fucking mind?!"
The door handle started to rattle. "I've called security. You have sixty seconds to vacate the suite!"
What choice did you have? You took Jakes hand and let him assist you down onto the roof below. He was like a cat in stealth mode as he climbed out, closing the pane down behind him as he took your hand and ran you across the top of the adjoining building.
You flew over puddles in your slim heels, his hand felt solid in yours as he pulled you along on bare feet. It was exhilarating. You'd never felt more alive. More like you could do anything. Your shadows moving where none could see, high above the lights of the merriment below.
"How the fuck do we get down?!" You cried, pulling him back as he neared the edge.
You didn't see the ladder until you were upon it.
"Don't worry, I'll go first." He assured you, slipping his shoes and jacket back on. "If I fall, well you'll just have to fall with me."
He flashed you a devilish grin. Raising your hand to his lips and placing a solitary kiss there as he descended.
"Jake, be careful!" You admonished, leaning over to watch him climb down with the same ease he'd breezed you over the roof with.
"Tuck your bag under your arm and slowly climb down..." He instructed, waiting on the rails until you were safely where he could grab your feet.
Your shoes and attire were not for climbing. Your dress catching on each rung. Almost slipping to your death a few times until Jake reached the ground and took the liberty of letting you fall into his waiting arms.
When he placed you safely on the ground, only then did it hit you. What you had done. What you had almost done. The ache that had yet to quit. Immeasurable pain in your core from being withheld from your ending. A need that went entirely unspoken. You were numb from it, the desire and the desperation.
"Lets get out of here." You breathed, kissing him softly in the flashing lights of the dancefloor beyond the window. "I don't want to play this game anymore."
His hand grazed your cheek, pushing back your hair that was now down and free.
"Neither do I." He replied, "Cheated death, I guess we should celebrate."
You huffed out a little breathy giggle and let him softly kiss you. Igniting something entirely different in your belly. Something warmer, heating you up from the inside out. Churning your stomach, radiating out from the space between your chest.
You'd never felt anything quite like it.
"We'd better be quick, I don't think they were bluffing about security."
You noted the bodies rushing out from the side of the building, flash lights in their hands. It seemed a little excessive, but still you were hot on your heels as Jake dragged you away and down the lawn into the darkness. You spotted the illuminated tennis courts as you rushed past, down into the curated garden behind and into a folly of trees.
"If they catch us down here, I swear to damn god..."
You didn't let him finish. Cutting him off with your mouth, pressing him into the trunk of the nearest tree.
"It has to be now, Jake..."
The first drop of rain hit as he spun you around. The rough bark of the tree against your back, the faded lights from the tennis courts illuminating just enough of his eyes for you to see him giving into the hunger there.
He lifted your leg into the crook of his arm, holding it as he swept your gown aside. As he freed himself, you spread a little wider for him. The rain coming down a little harder, the sound of it hitting the canopy above shrouding your unrelenting screams.
Finally, he entered you. Thrusting heedlessly, rutting like a man starved of affection. The heat of his breath against your mouth and the echo of his moans chimed with yours. His rhythm was delicious, his size just enough to burn your walls until it slipped in and out like a knife through melted butter.
"Fuck, you're so tight..."
Pleased with yourself, you clenched around him. He buried his face into the curve of your neck, driven to insanity.
Thunder rolled ahead. The scent of wet pine devouring your senses as Jake fucked you against the tree. His hair saturated in rain, you pulled it away from his face and stared at his desperate expressions as he held you up.
"It's you, you're so big..." You replied playfully, "And you fuck me so good with it..."
He hit you so deep, violently and with such force you knew you'd end up with scars. You could feel the flesh of your back torn open against the bark, not caring. Any blood spilled was worth the tangible connection forming under those stars. You'd earned this. You deserved this. And nothing would keep you from it, even if they found you. You knew you wouldn't let him pull out until both of you were spent.
"Damn it Jake, cum inside me..."
The urgency was heeded. Lightening streaked across the sky. Grunting ferociously into your mouth, tongues meshed and breath shared, he succumbed to your cunt in an explosion of light and painful climax. Your body felt tethered to the earth somehow as you felt every single nerve in your body shot with electricity. Not from the sky, but from Jake.
"Look at you..." He dragged a thumb down your cheek, taking your mascara with it. "Look what a mess I've made of you."
You were certain that you looked bedraggled and soaked. And he, no better. You stayed in the trees until the storm raged on. Emerging from the shadows, covered in cum and fallen leaves.
"Too beautiful a night not to sin with you." You said, "Maybe we should have just gotten a cab in the first place?"
.
.
.
@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon @vikingisthenewsexy @char289
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smuttysabina · 1 year
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(Jennie x Male Reader 1300 words) Forceful sex, 69ing, doggy style, creampie eating, some derogatory language
To experience Jennie's love life, is to experience an endless expanse of banal disappointment. Her lovers far too often prove to be insufficient to fulfill her needs, even when she takes them in pairs, by the dozen, even in their hundreds. They are never enough to satisfy the ceaseless burning of lust within Jennie. Her curse is hardly unique amongst idols, but it manifests itself most strongly in the girls of Blackpink. Lisa manages it by giving in fully to her depraved desires, there is no limit that she is unwilling to gleefully break to achieve orgasm; though she has grown canny in her treatment of her sex pets, the longer they last the better they get. Jisoo hides her frustrations behind a cracking façade of mindless kindness, treating her lovers with such attention that they become addicted to her soothing, forgiving touches... All lies, internally she is screaming just as much as the others when her lovers falter and fail all too early once more. Rose though, no longer even bothers hiding her fury at her slaves uselessness, snarling as she abuses them with an alarming sadism that they learn to adore. And Jennie, is simply distant. She moves through her sex with annoyed indifference, unable to comprehend her fans' eternal inability to please her. Why are they unable to continue after orgasming several times? The limitations of mortal flesh are simply baffling to Jennie.
Which is not to say Jennie does not achieve orgasm, she does, many times a night as she works her way through her nightly line of fans, eager to get destroyed. But every climax only builds up the last, instead of satiating her they only cause her lust to grow to ever greater heights. Until at the end Jennie is left surrounded by exhausted bodies, while hers still shrieks with unquenched desire. So Jennie has grown cold, tainting her interactions with fans with a sickly undercurrent of disgust; none of them will ever truly satisfy her. It does no stop her from trying though, her sexual addiction remains undiminished even in the face of continuous disappointment; driving her to continue fucking even if she knows it will never be sated. But this story is not about Jennie encountering her magical, fated lover, the one who can fulfill her every need. Unless you can fuck her for a month straight then its unlikely you would fit the requirements. No, this story is about you getting fucked senseless by a sex goddess, who has really tipped past the point where she even bothers to care about your wellbeing. May God have mercy upon your cock, because Jennie certainly won't.
And Jennie absolutely isn't, slamming her petite ass back against your crotch with mechanical fervor, her pussy gripping you tightly as it drags along your shaft. Her divine cunt has already devoured countless cocks this night, at times even getting stuffed by two or more; yet you would not know if from the strength at which it clenches around your manhood. The perfect combination of lubrication, speed, texture and tightness, already has you shuddering in ecstasy, on the verge of a supreme eruption. Your groans grow ever louder as you try to hold on, but Jennie is relentless, uncaring of such petty concerns like your growing orgasm. She is too busy trying to enjoy herself. With a tormented groan your balls empty themselves, spewing vast quantities of semen into Jennie's merciless cunt. Who continues fucking you, even as your cock quivers with sensation overload from being pleasured so soon after release. Jennie only pauses in her efforts when she notices your cock soften enough to plop out of her as she pulls back. A thin trickle of seed escapes from her pussy as she looks back at you, irritated that you would falter so soon. Get it back up. Now.
Of course, you knew what you were getting into when you joined the others inside of Jennie's room; you all did. Every Blink knows of their idols' voracious desires; and are often all too willing to sacrifice themselves for even an hour of pure bliss that comes from mating with the divine. So when Jennie descended upon you to defile your cock after destroying an entire room full of men, you were ready. Well at least you thought you were, until you had a sex goddess furiously glaring at you, demanding that you get hard for her again.
Stammering, you beg Jennie to use her mouth to get help revive you already battered manhood. She pauses for a moment, before nodding, and with one hand she shoves you onto your back; twisting her body so that the only thing you see is her ass plummeting towards your face. Jennie adroitly parks her creampied pussy atop your mouth, trusting that you would figure out what she wanted you to do. Lisa or Rose would revel in this, thoroughly enjoying the delicious punishment of making you lick you own seed out of their cunts. But Jennie simply doesn't care, you are going to pleasure her pussy, while she sucks you off, such depraved ideas are alien to her. So you are treated to the wonderful taste of an idol's soaking pussy, hot, wet, salty, with a tang of piss and semen. Meanwhile your dick is in rapture, as Jennie's warm tongue skillfully coaxes it back to its full length. She doesn't stop sucking you though, continuing to bob her head atop your cock, her lips sealing tight against your shaft as she suckles on it. Her gag reflex in nonexistent taking your entire length from tip to base without a sound of complaint. It is obvious Jennie is enjoying it however, as her pussy begins to drip and spasm against your mouth, as she grinds against you as if you were a pillow. Lost in heady pleasure, your climax hits you suddenly, and you moan into Jennie's pussy as your seed is sucked out of your trembling balls.
Your relief is short-lived however, as Jennie clambers off of your now filthy face, shifting back to position herself about your cock. Looking up at Jennie's callous face, you realize that not a single drop of your cum escaped her mouth. Breathless, you force out an apology, for not lasting long enough to cum inside of her pussy once more. A bemused smile crosses Jennie's lips, she truly does not care where you spill your seed, starting to slowly stroke your cock into usability once more. She is not sickeningly obsessed with semen, like that perverse matriarch Jihyo is; who is so obsessed with the primal act of reproduction she has become addicted to breeding. Nor does she yearn for all those other mushy aspects of sex; she is hardly desperate for grotesque adoration like that needy bitch-princess Yuna. No, you are all just meat to Jennie; how often, or where, you choose to waste your cum is immaterial to her, so long as it doesn't inhibit your lovemaking abilities. Her audible introspection ends however as she notices you stiff in her hand once more, and she smoothly mounts you. The barest hint of teasing indulgence shows as she reassures you that your next loads will not be "wasted" anywhere but inside of her pussy. You've already given Jennie your best, now all that's left is for her to wring out what further pleasure she can from your body. Do try to last, she does so hate to be disappointed...
An exhausted haze fills your mind as you float upon the edges of unconsciousness, your crotch a void of soreness and pain. Jennie looks down at you musing, why must you all be so weak? She sighs, groping for something out of vision before bringing a phone to her ears.
"Bring in the next hundred, this batch proved to be mostly... mediocre." Jennie idly pats you on the chest, "You were... less disappointing than most, enjoy your recovery fuck-meat." She then stalks off, already focused upon the next roomful of fans she will be fucking her way through.
It is curse, to be a sex goddess
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