Pretty Titty

𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔯𝔢𝔡

requested! not amazing at writing vampire stuff but i did my best lol

☾axl’s always been hungry for you—but tonight, it’s something deeper, darker. and he’s not holding back☽

☾warnings: nsfw (knife play, blood kink, biting, dominance/submission, restraint, power play, rough sex, teasing, degradation/praise, slight pain kink), vampire themes (blood drinking, supernatural strength), general intensity☽

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

the candlelight flickers, casting deep shadows against the walls as axl circles you, eyes dark with hunger. he looks otherworldly in the dim glow—his red hair spilling over his shoulders, his pupils blown wide, fangs just barely visible behind parted lips.

"you know what i love most about you?" he murmurs, voice thick with something dangerous. his fingers trail up your arm, featherlight, before curling around your wrist in a slow, deliberate grip.

you shiver, anticipation curling in your stomach. "what’s that?"

he grins, sharp and predatory. "how fucking good you look in red."

before you can respond, he brings a gleaming knife up to your skin, the cold steel kissing the side of your throat. your breath hitches. the blade doesn't cut—not yet—but the threat lingers, making your pulse hammer against your ribs.

axl hums, watching your reaction like a cat toying with its prey. "so fragile," he murmurs, pressing the flat of the blade against your collarbone, dragging it down slowly. "so warm. i can smell your heartbeat."

his free hand grips your chin, tilting your head just enough to expose the soft, vulnerable skin of your neck. his breath is cool against your throat, sending a shudder down your spine.

"axl," you whisper, but it's not a protest. it's a plea.

his smirk deepens. "you want it, don’t you?"

you don’t answer—not with words. instead, you let your head loll back, baring yourself to him, offering.

that’s all it takes.

he growls low in his throat, a sound vibrating with possession and need, before the knife finally bites—just enough to let a thin, crimson line bead along your skin. his tongue is on you in an instant, warm and wet, lapping up the blood with a deep, satisfied moan.

"fuck," he groans, eyes fluttering shut. "you taste divine."

his control is slipping—you can feel it. his grip tightens, his body pressing against yours, pinning you beneath him as he lets the hunger take over.

his lips crash against yours, stained red, and you taste yourself on his tongue. he kisses you deep, claiming, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

"mine," he growls against your mouth. "every inch of you."

you whimper, arching into him as he pushes you down, the knife now abandoned in favor of his fingers tearing at your clothes.

"gonna fuck you 'til you're shaking," he mutters, voice dripping with sin. "gonna have you screaming my name—" he leans in, lips brushing the fresh mark on your neck. "—and begging me to drink from you again."

he doesn’t wait for permission. he already knows the answer.

axl’s hands are everywhere at once—pinning your wrists above your head, sliding over your body like he owns it (because he does), nails digging in just enough to sting. he’s strong enough to hold you down with just one hand, but that’s not enough for him. he wants you to struggle.

“you’re so fuckin’ weak,” he mutters against your throat, voice thick with condescension and something darker. his fingers tighten around your wrists. “not a damn thing you can do to stop me, huh?”

you shiver beneath him, your breath coming out in soft, needy gasps.

“no,” you whisper, and it’s all the permission he needs.

his free hand trails down your body, teasing, toying with you as his lips brush over the fresh, thin cut along your throat. he hums, licking at the wound slowly, savoring the taste like a fine wine.

“fuck, i love this,” he groans, sucking at the wound hard enough to leave a mark. “love the way you taste. could drink from you all fuckin’ night.”

you whimper, bucking your hips up against him, desperate for any kind of friction.

he chuckles darkly. “so needy,” he muses, sliding his hand between your thighs. he barely grazes your heat, fingertips just ghosting over you. “you like when i take my time, huh? like bein’ teased?”

“no,” you pant, but he just smirks.

“liar.”

he finally—finally—slides his fingers against you, pressing just enough to make you squirm. you’re already soaked, and he groans at the realization, his fangs grazing your pulse point.

“all this for me?” he taunts, slipping one finger inside you, then another, stretching you slowly. “such a good fuckin’ pet for me. always so ready.”

you moan, tugging at his grip, but he holds you firm, pushing his fingers deeper, curling them just right.

“that’s it,” he coaxes, lips tracing over your jaw. “let me hear you, baby.”

he pumps his fingers in and out of you, slow and purposeful, drawing out every little sound he can. but it’s not enough. you know it, he knows it.

you whine his name, rocking your hips against his hand, and axl just grins.

“so greedy,” he murmurs. “you want more?”

“yes,” you plead.

his smirk darkens. “then fuckin’ take it.”

he pulls his fingers from you and replaces them with something much, much better. he presses into you in one slow, deep thrust, knocking the breath from your lungs.

“fuck,” he growls, dropping his head against your neck as he bottoms out. “so tight. you take me so fuckin’ well.”

he doesn’t move at first—just lets you feel all of him, lets you squirm against his hold, desperate for more. and then, without warning, he snaps his hips forward, setting a brutal, punishing rhythm.

you cry out, body jolting with every thrust, but axl doesn’t ease up. he fucks you like he’s trying to ruin you, like he’s trying to carve himself into you from the inside out.

his grip on your wrists tightens as he growls, “who do you belong to, huh?”

“y-you,” you stammer.

he snarls, sinking his fangs into your throat as he thrusts even deeper. the sharp sting mixes with the overwhelming pleasure, sending white-hot heat coursing through your veins.

“good fuckin’ pet,” he praises, licking over the fresh bite. “so perfect for me. so fuckin’ mine.”

his hand snakes between your bodies, fingers rubbing tight, desperate circles against your clit. you’re close—so fucking close—and he knows it.

“come for me,” he commands, voice rough, desperate. “let me feel it.”

and you do. you shatter beneath him, your entire body tensing as pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave.

but axl’s not done.

he keeps thrusting, fucking you through it, dragging out every little tremor and gasp until you’re begging him for mercy.

“too much,” you whimper.

he just laughs, his breath hot against your skin. “nah, baby. you can take it.”

and he doesn’t stop—not until he’s spilling inside you with a low, guttural moan, his fangs sinking into your shoulder one last time as he rides out his own high.

when he finally collapses against you, both of you trembling, he presses lazy kisses to your neck, nipping at the bruises he’s left behind.

“told you,” he murmurs against your skin. “you look so good in red.”

So you're saying that Santa Claus finished your float, then became Steven Tyler from Aerosmith to perform on it? I did not see that one coming!

FESTIVE SEASON 🔔 LIZZIE MCGUIRE 2.20 "Xtreme Xmas"

I love taking my readers on a journey.

Where are we going? I dunno. How fast am I driving? Don't worry about it. Unlock the door? Just put your seatbelt on you'll be fine.

"guys I do not condone any of this in real life" "this is fiction" "consent is key. this is only fiction" "murder is bad irl" — I wish fanfic authors didn't feel like they had to clarify this in author's notes or else they might be accused of being abusers or worse (I admit that such disclaimers are also something I personally use for my own stuff because I feel like I had to make it clear). like... people used to not care if an author wrote dead dove fics because people used to understand that ao3 fics are not a reflection of someone's in real life views or morality in any way. people used to understand that fanfics mean what they mean; fan fiction. none of it is real. maybe it's purity culture that normalizes witch hunt and censorship in the past couple years, and therefore authors feel like they have to clarify that just because they write about violence or noncon stuff doesn't mean they're murderers or sex offenders in real life. and I think it sucks that these things (purity and cancel culture?) have made authors feel like they have to apologize for the art they created instead of being proud of their hard work and all the dedication they put into creating these art. artists should not have to feel like they have to apologize for creating art that isn't all rainbow and sunshine. artists should not have to be made to feel ashamed of their own art if it's not all rainbow and sunshine.

I don’t agree with the “you can write noncon and dark fics as long as you make sure your readers get the message that these things are bad” or “you can write noncon and dark fics if it’s your way of coping with your trauma” take either. because writers do not owe you anything. the message writers want to send to their readers — whatever that message may be, if there’s any message or moral of the story for readers to take from the stories at all — is none of your business. why writers write what they write is none of your business. remember “don’t like don’t read”. no one forces you to read anything you don’t like. dark and noncon fics are a form of creative writing and creative writing is a form of art. you can’t pressure artists into creating art that “fit your moral compass” nor can you apply your own moral compass to artists to determine if they can create dark art or not, if their reasoning behind creating dark art passes your moral compass. like… what artists create and why artists create are none of your business. and you don’t get to shame artists for creating art that you hate / art that disgusts you. what you can do is ignore the art because it clearly was not made for you and that’s okay. what isn’t okay is you harassing artists because you don’t like the things they created.

writers, embrace and be proud of your works. as long as all the trigger warnings are tagged properly, you have nothing to apologize for.

people will see a fandom thing and be like "why isn't this a fanfic" "why is there no fanfic about this" my brother in christ, because you're not writing it

“Stop sexualizing ____.”

The truth is, sexuality is woven into nearly every aspect of human nature and culture, whether people choose to acknowledge it or not.

Whining about men who play in bands being sexualized is oxymoronic. Their image and appeal have always been tied to attraction - it’s part of the industry, whether people admit it or not.

These men built their careers by sexualizing women, objectifying them for their own gain. And now, when the tables are turned, you act like it’s an issue? believe me, they don’t care, neither should you.

the world is a harsh and indifferent place. Whether you embrace its cruelty or resist it, it doesn’t matter.

Slash + voyeurism for kinktober? 👀

Kinktober day 10: Voyuerism with Slash

Pairings: Slash x Fem!Reader ft. Izzy Stradlin

Warnings: voyuerism, smut, slight daddy kink, Izzy jerks off while watching you guys, semi cock!possessive!slash, dom!slash, sub!reader, squirting.

Summary: Slash wants to show you off to his best friend Izzy.

You were naked on all fours while your boyfriend was sat on the couch jerking his cock. “Come on over here baby.” His deep voice commanded you felt your arousal drip. You slowly crawled to him, seeing the other guitarist in your peripheral vision.

It was Slash’s idea to show you off like this. Izzy mentioned wanting to fuck you for a while and of course the other guitarist was not cool with that idea, but he decided that he could at least watch.

You sat on your knees between his thighs eyeing his cock hungrily. The curly haired man smirked that this, “Go on baby. Come suck my dick like a good girl.” You immediately got to work, licking and sucking his shaft. He gripped your hair and threw his head back moaning. He got a glimpse of Izzy stroking his own cock while watching you work your magic.

“Yeah, you like this Stradlin? Wait till you see what her pussy can do.” Slash groaned with a smirk.

All Izzy could do was watch and honestly, he was cool with that. Being able to see you naked was good enough for him.

You continued to suck him off like your life depended on it, knowing he’d give you the same effort back. That’s what was nice about your relationship. If someone wasn’t putting in effort then the other wasn’t going to either. Also if you’re naughty slash gets to punish you.

Then the guitarist pulls you off and moves so you could lay on the couch. You get up, pressing a kiss to his lips before obeying his command.

Your legs spread on their own accord as you looked at Izzy’s expression. It was dark and feral, much like your boyfriend’s.

Slash positioned himself between your legs before licking a stripe against your pussy from the bottom all the way up to your clit. You hissed and gripped his hair, shutting your eyes as he continued to eat you out.

“I know you’re closing your eyes baby. Open them. Look at Izzy watch you while I eat this sweet little pussy.” You did as he said, looking at Izzy looking at you. You could see him pump his cock faster and you gripped Slash’s hair tighter. Your eyes were wide and watery.

“Mmm Slash…I’m gonna cum!” You squealed.

“Okay then, cum for me baby. Cum for me and my friend.” And so you did, squirting your juices all over his face. “Fuuuck, you taste so good. That was so hot.”

“Holy shit.” Izzy muttered. The curly haired man looked to his friend with a smile, “Yeah, my girls’ a squirter.”

You laid there blissed out, barely registering the back he brought you up on his lap, hovering over his cock.

“Mmm you want it baby?” He asked teasingly.

“Oh yes. Please…daddy.” You let it slip. The one nickname that you usually call him in bed.

“Fuck.” The other raven haired man muttered, pumping his cock more.

“That’s a good girl. Go on.” Slash said and you sunk down on his large dick. You gripped his shoulders for balance as you began to ride him.

“Ah, fuck yes. You’re so tight baby oh fuck.” Your boyfriend was a moaning mess as you continued to ride him, he grabbed and slapped the flesh of your ass, forgetting that his best friend was jerking off to the scene not too far away.

“Be a good girl and make daddy cum.” He instructed and you sped up your movements, kissing his neck up to his lips. His grip on you tightened and it wasn’t long before he shot his sticky, salty, warm, cum into your womb.

You moaned at the feeling, rolling your eyes back.

Slash turned to look at Izzy eyeing the ropes of cum on his stomach and said, “Enjoy the show?”

“Fuck yeah dude.”

"Would anyone want to read --" Listen, imma stop you right there. Yes. YES, someone would want to read that. You write that weird little fucked up story. Or that domestic little slice of life story. That drabble or that 300k monster.

I promise someone wants to read it.

Dezi (Desi) was Izzy’s jailbait girlfriend in ‘84-‘85 and probably early ‘86 (rumours are that Geffen who were considering signing GnR weren’t happy that she was under 18).

She worked on Sunset Strip as an exotic dancer and choreographer and would dance on stage with GnR usually when they played a cover of The Stones’ classic Jumpin’ Jack Flash.

she's Kate Moss and she's a rockstar trapped in a supermodel's body