#gnr fanfiction

[velvetvixenette]

ꪆৎ Imagine…

Izzy, quietly strumming his acoustic in the dim glow of your bedroom lamp. You’re curled up on your shared bed in a soft nightgown, eyes fixed on him as he plays your favorite song—fingers moving effortlessly over the strings, yet so gentle.

He knows you’re watching. He always knows. But he still blushes, that shy little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he lowers his gaze, pretending to focus on the chords—because deep down, he loves that you see him like this.

[hollywoodroses]

guess who’s back, bitches! 😏

yes, I have returned. for the millionth time! 😭

welcome to my blog

my name is amy

I am actually anck-su-namun from the mummy

I’m bi-sexual but really shy about it

my blog is glam metal with focus on guns n’ roses

I will post gifs and fan fiction (including new stories)

my fan fiction will be nsfw. I do not and will not keep track of the ages of my followers/mutuals. It is your choice whether you want to interact with my blog/posts or not.

I write very dark themes, crime drama/erotic thriller/erotic horror fan fiction. I write fem!slash quite a bit in my gnr fics.

izzy stradlin is my muse so most stories if not all will be about him.

to give you an idea of what I write: I literally write stories where izzy is a cult leader, catholic priest, son of satan, and a pimp. ect

I will write almost anything/I have a really sick and twisted mind.

I want to tag a few people who inspire me: @lagunned @lagunz @velvetvixenette @hailsbellsl @therockstarsmuse @thefairyloveschaos @unknownperson246 @xo-myloves @dollypvpz @whcrepawz @pennymissworld @rapid-f1re @ccucumberx ❤️

I will not write: incest, step-siblings, waterworks, cnc, or age-play. my own characters (including the reader) are consenting adults and are over 19 years old.

when I am ready, I will open my ask-box including anon. I will not tolerate hate! I will delete and report all hate asks. I WILL NOT publish them.

my blog is a safe-place for everyone!

I hope you’ll join me in my writing journey and that you enjoy my blog! 😘

-amy

[icumpinkglitterxo]

hes gonna take it like a good boy

[mxxtalupyourass]

Izzy <3

[shhinigamii]

Izzy Stradlin 💋

[90sd0ll]

Steven Adler with Slash’s Son, London Hudson during a sound check at The Whiskey a Go Go on May 10th, 2018 in West Hollywood, California - 💋

📷; Credit to Michael Tullberg/Getty Images !

[lilacdreams1010]

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Day 19: Thigh Riding

Warnings: smut, lazy sex, thigh riding, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Kinktober

Slash loved the most boring movies ever, at least you thought so.

He was into a lot of horror movies which were fun but he’d also make you sit through documentaries on animals and dinosaurs and snakes -one night BMX was the topic, you had to take away sex for a week after that one.

He had his interests and would sit silently while watching them, staring in almost a daze. It was a good way to distract him but you were so bored when you’d watch with him.

You were on the couch with him, leaning against his side with your head on his shoulder, his arm thrown over your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

He let out a sigh of contentedness while you groaned out of boredom. He didn’t notice, too focused on his dinosaurs, you knew you’d be hearing about this same thing later anyway.

However, the documentary took a turn and started showing the life of terawhateverthefuckapus and how *in a heavy British accent* “their eggs come to be”. Watching dino’s fuck was not on your list of things to do today.

Slash seemed unfazed but it gave you an idea on how to get rid of your boredom, a grin finding its way onto your face.

You were subtle about it at first, leaning closer and nuzzling in more until you were fully sat in his lap, shifting to face him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, still resting your head on his shoulder as you began rolling your hips, rubbing yourself on his thick jean clad thigh.

It took him some time to figure out what you were doing but when he did he didn’t stop you, only wrapping his arms around your waist, his hands soon finding your hips and guiding your movements.

He placed a few gentle kisses on your cheek or temple, the top of your head, your neck, wherever he could reach without moving too much.

He helped you out of your clothes when he heard you whining, desperate for more. He groped your chest, pinched your nipple between his calloused fingers, anything to help you.

“M’sorry I didn’t pay more attention to you.” He mumbled into your ear, the documentary coming to an end. He knew you got off on his voice, it came in handy when he was off on tour and you were so close now, he had to help you, didn’t he? “Just-just be a good girl for me and make a mess in my lap, yeah?”

As if on command you fell that knot coming undone, a warm pleasure flooding your body. You melted into him on the couch, twitching at his gentle touches as you came down from the high.

“Mh, good job, sweetheart… m’proud of you, but next time just tell me, alright?” You nodded nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.

[mortifiedkaz]

phone sex

contents: smut, dom!slash x sub!femreader, dirty talk

word count: 930

p.s if u have any requests don’t be afraid to ask

You’ve been extremely horny lately, feeling extra bad for your boyfriend. You wanted to let him know that you loved him and not lusted over him, but you couldn’t control your high sex drive. This never really happened when you weren’t in a relationship, but now that you’re dating slash.. it’s like heaven. You called him a bit late every day because he always arrived at a hotel after a busy gig with his band.

You decided to call him, you couldn’t get your mind off of him. You heard the phone ring a few times in your ear before a familiar voice came to the phone.

“Hey sweetheart,” Slash said softly.

“Hi my love” you replied.

Even his voice was so angelic to you. God, it drove you crazy. Before you knew it, you guys were on call for an hour and a half. It was now 9pm and your panties randomly got soaked, a wave of horniness hitting you like a brick. You let out a low whine, the weird sensation pooling in your core. Your heart started to pound in your chest, your chest heaving. “Are you alright?” He asked in the same soft tone. “Mhm just a bit horny,” you confessed. He let out a deep chuckle at your confession without a word, which only made your arousal worse.

You weren’t usually a bold type of person, but you couldn’t help but to think about how you would love to get him hard by being straightforward. “I want you inside of me so badly,” you murmured. He groaned at your words, “You’re going to make me hard” he gritted through his teeth. “Good, I wanna make you hard” you say, your hand resting on top of your boob. Your words caused a bulge to grow in his pants, and the relaxed silence grew to sexual tension.

You couldn’t help but to grind against your blanket, whimpering needily. “What’re doin’ right now?” You ask. “Rubbing myself,” he replied. You could hear how heavy his breathing was and the sound of faint rustling. His hand traced over his leather-covered hard on as he focused on the sound of your voice. You just giggled mischievously, loving the sound of him getting turned on. “I wanna feel you” he moaned out softly. “Me too,” you croaked out, feeling yourself twitch inside of your soaked panties.

Before you knew it, your phone was on your other pillow and two of your fingers were plunged inside of your wet heat. His hand was rubbing up and down his shaft as you let out soft moans. The thought of him fucking you and stretching you open drove you crazy. He grunted and groaned, listening to your every sound. “I love you,” he said with a shaky breath. “I love you too” you managed to moan out in response.

Your moans gradually became louder, and his groans became more frequent. “Fuck,” he groaned out as he came. You were surprised from how fast he came, you weren’t even halfway done. But you continued either way, needing to finish. He continued stroking anyways. “I need you to ride me so badly,” he grunted. “I wanna feel you inside of me” you whined. Your fingers curled and your body convulsed. You came, moaning loudly. This caused him to have another orgasm, hearing him grunting and groaning as you panted lightly from your orgasm.

You sat there debating on whether to cum again, your pussy was still wet yet you were somewhat tired. Oh well, he came twice as well. You started again, your pussy feeling almost numb but sensitive from your last orgasm. You couldn’t help but to close your eyes and imagine your fingers were his cock, your fingers plunging in and out of your hole faster at the thought. He was still masturbating, barely any noise coming out of him this time. As you were halfway done with your orgasm, you heard him cuss under his breath once again. “Fuck, I love you” he gasped out as he came. You giggled and kept going as he relaxed and regained composure.

It was hard to cum, your fingers sore. All you could do was moan and attempt to go faster. Dirty words and pleas spilled out of your mouth uncontrollably. “I feel so bad for continuing while you’re exhausted,” you say to him. “Shhh, it’s okay baby. Keep going” he muttered. You listened to him, your orgasm coming closer and closer. “What are you doing now?” You ask in curiosity for the last time. “Rubbing myself again while listening to you,” he responded. You let out a “hmm” noise as an ‘I understand’.

“I wanna suck on your clit so badly, make you cum in my mouth” he said slowly. For some reason, this threw you off of the edge. Your back arched and you came harder than ever before, crying out in pleasure. “Oh, slash, oh fuck,” is all that comes out of your mouth, cum & arousal flooding your fingers as it drips down onto the sheets. He chucked in enjoyment as he heard you gasp and cry out in pleasure. Afterwards, you both sat there in the aftershock. Your legs shaked yet you were still able to put on your pants. He agreed to put on his pants as well and laid back down afterwards.

“You mean so much to me baby,” he mutters out lovingly, his voice laced with exhaustion.

“You mean everything to me,” you mutter back out in response before rolling over and drifting off to sleep out of exhaustion.

[vinyldreamsfuckup]

Can you write a slash fic about him liking the reader and the whole group knows but he like denies ever liking her and says he would “never like her because she’s weird” and she overheard and starts to distance herself - slash is confused and notices that she isn’t talking to him much and tries not to get upset.

It isn’t until they were all hanging out at the whiskey and duff points out that the reader is being flirted with by some other guy - slash is mad and takes a couple drinks before deciding to pull her away from the guy because he was jealous. With smut involved :)

Thank you I hope this isn’t a lot and of course get to it when you can - I love your writing by the way :3

A: I love this idea so much omg. Also thank you so much 🥹🫶🏻 I really really hope I did this justice!! This is so long. I hope that’s okay🫣

Warnings: drinking, praise, slash x fem, smut, oral (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), semi-public sex, use of y/n once.

You were on your way to bring Slash lunch at Hell House. Guns had been working on their new album pretty constantly and you knew he would forget to eat if he wasn’t reminded. As you walked up the porch of the house you heard laughter. You paused for a second.

“Dude we all know you like her,” Axl said. His words were slightly slurred. He was probably drunk.

“No I don’t,” Slash laughed out.

“No you totally do. Admit it. You totally like y/n,” Izzy said. This caused your heart to jump. You? You had the biggest crush on Slash and you thought he liked you too but you had never talked about it. You were just friends.

“Guys come on,” Slash said chuckling a little.

“Admit it, seriously,” Steven chuckled.

“I don’t like her. Come on guys. She’s fucking weird you know that! I’d never like her like that. She’s just a friend,” Slash laughed out.

Your heart broke into a million pieces. You set the food on the floor in front of the door and quickly ran down the stairs. You ran until you couldn’t anymore. Weird? You didn’t think you were weird. Quirky maybe, but weird? You liked rock music and you were into nerdy things but you also worked at the Whiskey. Plus Slash was into nerdy things too! That’s what helped bond you guys. You were a great bartender and you were great with people. You had become such close friends with all the guys. How were you weird?

When you got home that night you just sat on your couch and drank some Jack Daniel’s. Slash’s words echoed in your head. You thought about all the times you and Slash had hung out. He never acted like anything was weird or like he didn’t enjoy hanging out with you. In fact you guys always watched movies and smoked joints together. He’d listen to your stories about the drunk people at work and you’d listen to his stories about new band drama or the most recent groupie who threw herself at him. He’d always say how much he’d wished they could just stay up all night and talk. How he’d never get tired of listening to you. The more you drank the more angry you got. Until the phone rang and pulled you away from your thoughts.

“Hello?” You slurred into the phone as you answered it.

“Hey,” Slash said on the other side. You froze for a second.

“What’s up?” You asked, trying not to sound quite as drunk as you were.

“I got the food you left. Why didn’t you come in and say hi?” Slash asked. You could hear him twirling the chord of the phone. Well shit. What do you say now?

“Um…I don’t know. You guys sounded busy thought it would be better not to bother you guys,” You cleared your throat then took another swig from the Jack Daniel’s bottle. That was a good enough excuse.

“You never bother us? What are you talking about?” Slash said, you heard rustling on the other side of the phone.

“Nothing. Hey. I’ll let you go. See you later,” you said and pulled the phone from your ear.

“Wait wha-“ Slash started but you hung up the phone. You walked into your bedroom took another long swig of Jack Daniel’s and then sat on your bed. What the fuck?

The whole next day Slash tried to call you to which you didn’t answer. That was until there was a loud knock at your door. You opened it wearing your oversized Motörhead t-shirt and jean shorts. Slash stood on the other side of the door. He was wearing a tight Led Zeppelin t-shirt with the sleeves slightly rolled up and some leather pants. He had food in his hands and a horror movie.

“I have food. To repay you. Can I come in?” Slash asked as he walked into your apartment.

“What?” You asked looking at him.

“I brought you food. Oh and I brought that horror movie I was telling you about! The Omen. I think you’ll love it! Can we watch it?” Slash asked. He plopped down on your couch and waited for your answer. He set the food on the coffee table and started pulling out the Mexican food from the bags.

“You know. Now’s not really a good time,” You said carefully. You grabbed a bottle of Jack and took a swig. Slash’s words still echoed in your brain. He’d never like you. He’s just your friend.

Slash looked at you and furrowed his eyebrows, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine,” You smiled tightly and leaned against the kitchen counter.

“You’re lying. I know something’s wrong. Why won’t you talk to me?” Slash asked. He walked to you and placed his hand on the counter next to you, “I know you. Why are you pushing me away?”

God why did he have to look at you like that? His brown eyes searched your face. He looked so confused and hurt. All you could think about were his words. How he said he’d never like you.

“I’m not. Believe it or not I do have a life outside of catering to you,” You pushed past him and walked toward you room.

Slash looked at you with his eyebrows furrowed, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just tired. I have work so I’ll see you later okay?” You ushered Slash toward the door. He nodded slightly.

“Promise you’re okay?” Slash asked as he walked out the door.

“Yeah. Yeah I promise,” You smiled slightly.

“Rain check then?” Slash asked with a smile as his necklaces clanked together.

“Rain check,” You said with a tight smile and he walked back down the hallway.

The next night you went to work at the Whiskey. You wore your black lace corset and black leather pants. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail and you were wearing eyeliner, mascara and a deep red lipstick. Metallica was playing that night and you knew it would be a wild show. Whenever you had the more popular bands played it was a wild night. Metallica were definitely getting more and more popular and it was going to be a quite the show.

You were working behind the bar and helping customers when Kirk Hammett walked up to you. You finished helping the customer then turned your attention to him. Yeah. You definitely had a type.

“Hi,” you smiled, “what can I get for you?”

Kirk smiled his goofy smile at you, “Can I just get a beer please? And you can start a tab I’m in the band.”

You grabbed his card and started a tab for him, “bottle or draft?”

“Hmmm what do you have?” Kirk asked. He leaned forward resting his hands against the bar. He stared at you. You could feel your stomach turn excitedly.

“Um…Budweiser and Heineken are both bottle and draft. Then we have bud light and blue ribbon in bottles,” I smiled. He nodded and smiled.

“I’ll have a Heineken. Draft,” he smiled. You poured the glass of beer and set it in front him.

“And what about you? Are you available?” Kirk asked with a smile before taking a sip of his drink. The door opened and Slash walked in with Duff and Axl. You took a deep breath and looked back at Kirk.

“I am available,” you leaned forward slightly. He took another sip of his beer.

“Well thank god for that,” Kirk chuckled, “so why is that? A beautiful woman such as yourself should never have to be alone.”

You smiled and straightened, “A charmer? How tempting.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Why aren’t you talking to her?” Duff asked Slash.

“Well she’s barely talked to me. She kicked me out yesterday and said she had work, but she didn’t,” Slash said with a sigh.

“You think she likes you?” Duff asked with a small chuckle. Slash’s heart rate increased. He hoped you liked him.

“I don’t know,” Slash sighed.

“Maybe she’s not interested Slashy poo,” axl chuckled, “but she knows you totally are.”

“Dude shut up,” Slash leaned back in his seat.

“You’re into her. We can all see it. I don’t get why you won’t just admit it,” Duff said as he stood up, “I’m going to go get us drinks.”

Axl smiled, “No one is going to judge you if you like her. You two clearly get along. She clearly makes you happy. Plus she’s fucking hot.”

Slash looked at Axl, “She’s not like all the other girls though. You know? Like Erin and Adriana. They’re loose and hot and they come to all the shows. She’s different.”

“That’s a good thing man. You don’t want someone like Adriana,” Axl chuckled, “Like seriously you are much more of a one woman man.”

Slash nodded and looked at Axl, “You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Dude we’re all rooting for you two to get together, no one’s going to give a fuck,” Axl laughed. Duff came back and set a glass of whiskey in front of Slash and a beer in front of Axl.

“Dude, she’s totally getting hit on over there,” Duff chuckled and pointed to where you and Kirk were talking and flirting.

Slash felt his blood boil and his heart rate increase, “why would that be happening?”

Duff shrugged, “I totally thought she was into you. Maybe she’s not.”

Slash's anger spiked. Why were you pulling away? Why had you kicked him out? Why were you flirting with someone else. He thought you guys liked each other. He looked over and saw you flirting with Kirk. Another bartender walked out and spoke to you before starting to help with customers. Slash stood up and knocked back his whole glass of whiskey before walking up to you.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You went back to talking to Kirk as your coworker helped with other customers. You and Kirk were laughing and flirting when Slash's loud footsteps approached the bar. You straightened and looked at him.

“Hey. We need to talk,” Slash said to you. You furrowed your eyebrows.

"About wha-" You started.

"Now." Slash said sternly. You took a deep breath.

You looked over at Kirk, "Excuse me a second."

Kirk nodded and took another sip of his beer. You walked out from behind the bar and Slash grabbed your arm and pulled you to the backstage area. He pushed open one of the rooms and dragged you into it.

"Slash what are you-" You started before Slash cut you off again.

"What the fuck is going on?" Slash asked. He was angry now.

"What?" You said back fully confused.

"Why the fuck are you pulling away? And flirting with some guy at the bar? Why haven't you fucking talked to me?" Slash asked getting more and more worked up.

"Why the fuck do you care? It's not like I'm your girlfriend?" You nearly yelled back at him.

Slash was taken aback, "What?"

"Yeah. I'm too "weird" to deserve that title aren't I?" You barked out. Slash's face fell.

"No. No. Did you hear me say all that stuff the other day?" Slash asked worriedly. His hands found your waist.

"Don't back pedal now, Hudson. It's fine," You opened the door and started to walk out. He grabbed your arm and pulled you in close to him.

"Let me explain," He whispered, his mouth was inches from your now. He pushed the door closed and then pushed you against it. You looked up at him and took a deep breath.

"I'm in love with you. I thought it was obvious," Slash whispered. You felt heat pool in your abdomen, "I have loved you for months."

"Wh-why didn't you do anything?" You said shakily. Slash smiled.

"I like the chase," Slash grabbed your chin and tilted it up, "Now let me remind you why you shouldn't be flirting with other guys."

Slash started to kiss down your neck and chest and over your cleavage. He started to undo your leather pants and his hand slipped in, his fingers brushing firmly over your panties. You took a sharp inhale and he smiled. He pushed past your panties and started to rub his fingers against your clit. A long moan left your mouth.

"Fuck...you're so wet. Is all of this for me?" Slash asked with a smile. His mouth connected back with your neck and his fingers moved quickly.

"Oh god...Slash..." You moaned out. Your hand tangled into his hair. He groaned against your neck and dropped to his knees. He undid your Doc Martens and pulled them off before quickly pulling your leather pants and underwear off your legs. He lifted a leg and wrapped it around his shoulder.

"God look at you," His hot breath hit your cunt and you groaned, "You're so fucking hot."

His tongue dragged up the length of your folds and you moaned loudly, your hand tangling into his curls again. He moaned against you causing vibrations to rattle through your body. It felt so good. He felt so good.

"Fuck...Slash..." You moaned loudly. He smiled and let his tongue find your bundle of nerves. He added pressure and stuck a finger in a gasp fell from your mouth. He groaned against you and his fingers moved as he fucked you.

"Mmmm so tight," He mumbled against you cunt. He added another finger earning another long moan. His tongue moved against your clit and he curved his finger hitting your g-spot as he fucked you. The sound of wet skin and moans filled the room. You didn't even care if anyone heard you. It felt so good. You felt that familiar tightness in your abdomen.

"Oh my god...Slash...I'm close" You groaned. His fingers and tongue moved faster and harder earning louder and louder moans until you came all over his finger. He stood up and licked his fingers.

"God you taste so good," Slash mumbled. You reached for his belt and undid it quickly. He smiled down at you and pressed your lips together. You quickly unzipped his pants and let them pool around his ankles. He wasn't wearing any underwear. Perfect. Easy. He lifted you up and pressed you against the door before pushing into you in one thrust.

"Fuck Slash...you feel so good," You moaned out loudly. He smiled and started to rock against you roughly. Loud moans fell from both of your mouths as you moved.

"You're so good. Fuck...oh my god. So good," Slash groaned as he fucked you senseless, "Yes...You're so pretty. Letting me fuck you like this."

You moaned and connected your lips. Long moans and breaths fell into each other's mouth. He started to move more sloppily and harder.

"Slash...Fuck...Oh my god...I'm close," You groaned out. He nodded and groaned louder. His head fell back and he came loudly. You followed suit. Watching him cum was so erotic and intimate. He leaned his forehead against yours as you both tried to catch your breath.

"I love you too,” you said breathlessly. He smiled and kissed you softly.

“Good,” He chuckled breathlessly.

[80smckagans]

gorgeous steven 🥹🤍

[hollywoodroses]

this is a comment on my latest izzy stradlin fic.

it’s a story where Y/N is lost in a los angeles mall. izzy befriends her and buys her clothes, she doesn’t realize she is actually being lured into the adult film industry by him. the story includes an original female character named ‘baby blue’ who is an adult film entertainer. she takes reader under her wing and protects her from dealing with the industry.

I did turn to reddit for advice but had a bad experience (unfortunately) someone said that me writing au/your name fics is causing me to have very little engagements with readers. (I just wanted to share this with you)

I hope to share this story on tumblr soon. I also hope you’ll like it. ❤️

please like this post if you are interested in reading this story!

[icumpinkglitterxo]

good boy

warnings: weed, high sex, oral (f receiving), handjob x, praise, subby slash :3

a/n: hes actually a little bitch

enjoy ★

It was a Saturday night, and you were at home, waiting for your food to be delivered and watching TV. You were taking a break from going out and drinking and partying and having sex with whatever rockstar you could. You get up when there's a knock on your door, thinking it was your food.

You open the door, "Slash?"

He smiles nervously. You had never seen him this nervous before. "H-hey, um, sorry for just showing up," he was barely making eye contact. He must be sober. You shrug and step to the side, "its fine, it's not like im doing much anyway."

He comes in and shuts the door, "you look different," he says whilst taking in your appearance.

You blush and look down. You were in pyjama bottoms and an old t-shirt. Your hair was slightly messy, and you weren't wearing any makeup or perfume. It was the complete opposite of what he was used to. Usually, you were dressed in crop tops and mini skirts or short shorts. "Oh, yeah, um...I just thought I'd stay home tonight and relax," you shrug. He smiles nervously, "yeah, I get it."

You walk back over to your couch and sit down, gesturing him to follow. "So, why'd you come over?" He blushes and stays quiet for a little while, "the first and last time i met you, all we did was fuck, and it was right before a show so I basically left as soon as we were done, and I felt bad about that, because I'm not actually that kind of guy...I tried looking for you after the show but, I couldn't find you anywhere," he pauses and looks up at you, you could tell how nervous he was, which confirmed that he was sober. "I came over because I want to get to know you...whether that leads to just a nice night, us becoming friends, anything. I just know I want to get to know you."

You smile, "Slash, that's so sweet... I wanna get to know you too," he blushes again and smiles nervously. "Slash?" He looks up, "y-yeah?"

You smile sympathetically, "do you want some weed?" He nods almost immediately. You get up and go to your room, looking through your underwear drawer for it. A few minutes later you come back into the livingroom and roll a joint for you to share.

As he gets high, he gets less nervous, and the two of you spend the night talking about yourselves and getting to know one another, the weed making you tell more personal things than you normally would. You could tell, though, that you could be comfortable around him. That he wouldn't judge you. You felt safe with him.

You spend the night talking and laughing over stupid shit and sharing the food you ordered. A bit into the night, you start noticing him shifting uncomfortably every now and then.

You look down and notice the bulge growing in his pants. You giggle a little, "uh, do you want some help?"

He blushes, "shit, I'm sorry...weed tends to -" he trails off when he notices you moving closer to him. You get up and straddle him, "keep talking" He lets out a quiet whimper, thinking you didn't hear. He clears his throat, "weed makes me sensitive," he mumbles. You look down at him, then start to kiss down his neck.

He whines softly, "... fuck."

You look up at him and lean down to kiss him. He immediately melts into the kiss, his hands finding your waist. You and Slash had slept together before, and he was usually rough. But this time, his touch was so gentle, delicate, almost as if he was afraid to touch you.

You pull away and look down at him, "don't be shy..." He looks up, "but I am," his voice is almost a whisper. You smile and bring a hand down to his stomach. His breath hitches.

You pull his hard cock out of his leather pants, knowing he never wore underwear. He leans his head back and lets out a shaky breath.

You start to move your hand slowly, feeling him twitch in your hand. He lets out a soft whine. You stop and look up at him. The sounds he would make when the two of you had sex were always low moans, groans and grunts. This was different.

You start to move your hand again at a quicker pace. He moans, but it was much higher and whinier than what you had heard before. His hand moves to your thigh, "f-fuck," he squirms as you move your hand faster. You look down at him. He looks right back up at you with the neediest little look.

He keeps staring up at you, squirming and whining while you move your hand faster, "you gonna cum?" He nods, "close, close, hah- please- I'm so close," he moans loudly, much higher pitched than you had heard before.

"Go on," you smile down at him. His back arches slightly and his eyes roll back as he cums all over your hand. You keep moving your hand at the same speed, feeling him twitch.

When you stop, you get off his lap and sit beside him. You look up at him, "on your knees."

He doesn't hesitate and immediately gets off the couch and settles between your legs on the floor. He pulls your pyjama pants down, followed by your panties. He looks up at you. You nod, "go ahead..." He starts lapping at your folds, alternating between sucking your clit and sticking his tongue in your hole.

You grab a fistful of his hair, holding him down. You were practically riding his face, moaning out random praises. "Fuck, don't stop!" He starts sucking on your clit and sticks two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. You moan slightly louder, "oh fuck, that's it, good boy," he whines, sending vibrations through your body.

You look down at him and see him staring up at you through his eyelashes, "yeah? You like that?" He moans against your clit, sending more vibrations through your body. "Fuck- hah- don't stop!" You cry out louder as you squirt all over his face.

When he pulls away, you pull him up, "you're such a good boy," he whines again. You lean in and kiss him, then pull away.

You both realise you're not entirely sure what to do now. "So...do you wanna stay over...?" You ask awkwardly. He smiles and nods, pulling you close and kissing you again. He was clearly more comfortable now.

[grlcarcass]

dead air, dirty talk - duff mckagan

modern!duff mckagan x reader

She hosts a late night music radio show, just getting by and keeping things entertaining with her crowd, until a charming caller with a self proclaimed ‘ex rockstar life’ becomes awfully involved.

warnings: 18+ content, power imbalance, legal age gap, humiliation, choking, mild breathplay, mentions of alcohol use, sadism, masochism, strong language

word count: 7k words

{tags: @hollywoodroses @duffrosemckagansslut }

special thanks to @hollywoodroses for your advice! ur the best.

The rain made the city glow.

Far from magically, it wasn’t remotely close to a movie scene, but in that ‘neon-reflected-wet-sidewalks-outside-the-pub’ way, where the gutters are glimmering and vaguely smell like the ever familiar city sewage.

Her mary janes hit puddles as she lazily makes her way up the cracked pavement, big flight jacket only zipped up halfway, the cold city wind hitting the skin behind the small slightly exposed black lace bralette she wore as a top. Even at these midnight hours she stuck to her image, hoping to be recognized one of these days.

It was nearly midnight, and everybody in the city was definitely asleep. Yet she was just clocking in.

The radio station was far from glamorous. The suspiciously stained ceiling tiles, the vending machine left with the trail mix no right mind would ever buy, the stuck front door that wouldn’t dare to budge without the help of your hip.  A little box of flickering “ON AIR” light and a secondhand incense smell, where the only audience were night owls, truckers, and the very painfully lonely assholes. 

A college student technically, firstly, but she felt like her major was just getting by. Rent was late, always. But the apartment had a window that overlooked that city skyline, and when it rained like this? It almost felt expensive. 

She threw her jacket on the ever empty guest seat, her minibag following with the jingles of her keychains. She slid into the swivel chair, and tapped the mic, one of the objectively finest things in her life. 

“Hey you lot.” she spoke lowly, speaking into the dim half-lit studio. Her voice honeyed with sarcasm, “Welcome back to your nightly reminder it’s past your bedtime. I’m your host, and hell no I’m not playing any Linkin Park.” 

The night started the same as ever, the phone blinking lazily as she did. 

First caller swore up and down that his cat was possessed. “I swear to you, she growls when I play The Strokes. That can’t be normal!” She chewed her gum and blinked slowly, she sighed to the side. “Consider her opinion.” 

Click. Next.

A woman requesting a Celine Dion song for her cheating ex. “You know, just so he knows what he lost?” 

“Sure,” she said, already queuing up an obnoxiously rowdy song, betraying her request. “This one’s for you, Greg.” she rolled her eyes.

It droned on; half comedy, half confessional booth? Most nights, she floated through the calls like a milky smoke, half listening, half thinking about her shift ending. Her tone always cool, borderline teasing, like she dared the world to amuse her.

Then came his voice.

It wasn’t dramatic, just low. Steady. Like someone who hadn’t slept in a few days but didn’t mind, yet also a curiosity behind it. 

“Hey,” he said. “First time caller. Thought I’d see what the lame and lonely are doing tonight y’know?” 

She blinked, oddly dumbfounded, she loved her crowd of course. A bunch of bored and chatty people who didn’t mind being teased and jested with. Her hand froze over the soundboard. There was a pause. Not dead air, more like a charged silence. 

He hadn’t stumbled. Didn’t have to unconsciously beg to be heard. He dared her to listen.

Frankly she just wasn’t used to that.

“Well,” she said slowly, her slender fingers pinching her bottom lip, rolling the pout between her index and thumb curiously. “You’ve officially been the smoothest first time caller on the show.”

He chuckled again, his voice that of an unpolished yet inviting young buck. “Oh I’m so glad to raise the bar, it wasn’t awfully hard. Hold your applause I beg.” 

“Oh,” she mused, flipping a switch on the board, “someone’s cocky.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“I’d love to hear this list, first time caller.” she mocked and giggled.

“I’d need a second call for that, you wanna play some songs on this joint eventually don’t you?” 

She raised a brow, she could feel the listeners worldwide–or, locally-wide doing the same. The show was far from that of a cohesive talkshow, the collective felt like it was a well promoted music groupchat, nothing so charming.

 He teased for more time. Interesting.

“So…” she drawled, resting her chin in her palm. You swear you could hear her amused grin over the radio. “What’s your name, our oh-so-charming mystery caller?”

A pause. “D.”

She waited for more. Nothing came.

“No last name?” she teased. “Witness protection advice such an alias? If you could call it that.”

“Something like that.”

“Alright, D Something-Like-That, what really made you call in tonight?’ 

Another pause, a little longer this time.

“Just wanted to hear needed some voice other than my own..” 

And just like that, her sarcasm wavered. Briefly. 

She leaned back in her chair, one mary jane rested on the edge of the desk, watching the rain crawl down the window in tiny silver threads.

D hadn’t filled the silence. He let it breathe, which told her a lot. Most people feared dead air. He let it exist. It was the kind of thing only people with unrelenting confidence could pull off, radioshow or not.

“You always talk like that?” she asked after a beat, voice curious and musing. “All cryptic and poetic, or is it just for me?” she teased smokily.

“Depends,” he said. “Is it working?”

She smirked, he got her there, admittedly a thrill shot up from layers behind her abdomen. “A little. But don’t get a big head about it, you’d have to best all the trucker callers who tell me Iron Maiden predicted 9/11. You’re in the league for sure, but the best in it?” she jested.

“Aw darn.” he chuckled. “Guess I’ll have to try harder next time won’t I?” 

For some reason, it hadn’t felt like a threat. When most of her callers promised a call back, she already dreaded it. But him? 

Next time?

She liked this mix, unrehearsed boldness, smooth and not pushy. She liked that. It wasn’t often someone on the other side of the static actually got to her.

Most of her audience was a blend of awkward stoners, lonely oldheads, or self proclaimed “deep” Elliott Smith fans. She loved them, she was them, but it didn’t stop her from knowing how much more aware she was of them. Sharp edged, and sad in a way they hadn’t earned yet. She envied her crowd some times, more love than hate there. 

But this guy? He didn’t even try to prove anything, and it slightly unnerved her. Just a bit.

“You a music guy, D?” she asked.

He hesitated. Just for a second. 

“You could say that, sure.” he chuckled 

“Define ‘music guy,’” she pushed.

“Played a little. Wrote a little. Y’know? Lived backstage.” 

She tilted her head. “You in a band?”

“Used to be. Not the frontman. Never liked the idea too much, y’know? Just there to get drunk, high, and play. Not much else to it, y’know?”

“Ohhh,” she teased. “Mysterious past, famous rock god calling from exile maybe? You’re intriguing us.” 

“You laugh,” he said, clearly amused. “but you’re not that far off.”

She almost made a joke. Almost.

"You miss it?" she asked uncharacteristically tenderly.

“I guess I miss the feeling.” he paused. “And I miss not having to explain it.” 

She liked this, she wanted to save it in a bottle and keep it for later. 

“Call me next week,” she said, almost without thinking. “Same time.”

A silence hung between them, it was warm. 

“Yeah,” he said, quiet and sure. “I will.”

After D hung up, she just sat there for a second, staring at the blinking line that had gone dark.

The next call came through.

“Hey, it’s Alan again; remember me? The guy with the misspelled ‘Mtoely Crue’ fucked up tattoo?”

She smirked, her fingers absently tapping on the desk. “Hey you. I was wondering when you’d call to make up for your last very questionable tattoo.” 

The usual stream of callers came through; a guy who swore Ozzy didn’t eat the damn bat, a woman asking for a shoutout to her ‘super cool’ cat named Gary Glitter, and an ex-groupie proudly proclaiming how she wore the bandana of David Bowie’s guitarist after stealing it.

It was all so, mostly, predictable yet amusing. Her demeanor was noticeably different, she felt herself smiling into the mic more. Swinging her legs under the desk like a teenager with a secret.

Even when she walked home under the same dripping sky, hands tucked into her jacket pockets, she just kept hearing that voice of his.

She didn’t know what it was exactly. Just that it felt honest in a way people rarely are, especially behind anonymous lines around 2 am.

The next day blurred like a washed out tape.

College was a haze of fluorescent lights and dull lectures. She sat through a pretentious music theory class taught by some prissy asshole who pronounced “fugue” wrong, and graded as if he was some kind of Beethoven himself. 

Lunch was a pathetic half bagel and a chai latte, she ignored all her texts. Checked the station voicemail, nothing. 

By Thursday, she had almost convinced herself it was a fluke. An oddly charming stranger who stumbled into her show and played her like a damn fool for her audience.

But she couldn’t stop thinking of his voice, the steady smokey rasp, but friendly chuckles behind it. A certain gravel to it you don’t get from a mic, but from life. From late nights and hotel bathtubs and waiting too long between cigarettes. 

She continually replayed the call in her head, especially the pauses. The way he’d say “y’know” like he expected her to understand everything as he said it. Or it was just a habit, she was reading too far into it, she knew it.

The following Friday night rolled in like clockwork, it felt like the past hundred, the city buzzing under the same rain slicked sky. The comforting hum of the studio set in as she sat in her chair, fingers already itching for the mic. Tonight was the night.

She clicked the mic on, ready to get into the usual chaos of her late night crowd. 

“Alrighty, you know who I am, cut the crap and call me.” her voice danced in the air with a playful edge. “Hit me.” she tempted her awaiting callers.

The calls flooded in, each one blending into the next; people joking about how they were finally awake enough to properly understand their grandpa’s recommendations, a woman who was seriously convinced she was the bastard child of Eddie Van Halen, another just wanted a song rec. 

She kept it coming, half-listening, half-laughing, her usual dry sense of humor coating every interaction. But then, a strange shift in the feeling of the next call. 

“Hey, who’s calling us tonight?” she said, a feeling in her gut about this caller. 

A soft and familiar chuckle vibrated through the speakers, unmistakingly smooth, yet carrying that same rough edge that made him stand out before. “I’m afraid it’s me again,” came his familiar beautiful voice, rich, and warm with mischief. “Wouldn’t want you to think you’d gotten rid of me that easily.” 

She truly couldn't suppress the smirk that tugged at the corners of her mouth. D, of course, like he promised. A wave of relief and excitement washed over her, leaving that electric feeling hanging in the air.

“Back for more?” she teased, keeping her tone light, though there was that new kind of amusement she found last time he had called her. “Thought you’d let someone else have the spotlight for once.” 

“Couldn’t keep away,” he replied smoothly. “I figured I’d call in and see if you were still managing to keep up with all this music gossip crap. I have to admit, I’m impressed you haven’t lost it yet.” 

Her eyebrow arched, was he listening to her show the whole week leading up to today? She leaned closer to the mic. “Oh, I’m hanging in there, don’t you worry about me. But I do have to ask… what’s your angle this time?”

She could hear his smile, whatever that looked like, in his voice as he spoke again, and she knew it was that smirk– the one he probably wore every time he got into this kind of playful back and forth. “No angle. Just wanted to check in and see if you’re still as interesting as last week, which you’ve seem to have a knack for. I gotta know, a question that I imagine all listeners have thought of…” he began, her eyebrows raising. “Are you as interesting off the air as you are on it?”

Her pulse shot up, but she kept her cool. “I don’t know… maybe you should find out for yourself. Unless you’re a complete nutcase and lied your way up to this point about this ‘ex-rockstar life’ you claimed.” she teased. 

His ever sunny laughter rumbled through the speakers, the kind that was easy-going and mischievous. “I think that’s a dangerous idea, y’know? But hey, I get it. You probably think you know everything about this side of life, right? I mean, you’ve heard all the stories, the ones about the craziness, the tours, the late nights, the drama.” 

She raised a brow feeling the challenge settle into her chest. “I mean, sure. I’ve heard some pretty wild stuff. But I bet you’ve seen a lot more than you’ve led on, D.” she giggled.

He chuckled. “I’m sure I could tell you a few stories that would blow your mind, but who knows? Maybe they’re better left off the ears of a radio show host, y’know?” he jested.

She leaned forward, rolling her eyes and musing, her tone intrigued and teasing. “Oh, don’t be so mysterious. You think you can just be all cryptic on my show and not expect me to want to know more?”

“Well, I’m a fan of mystery,” D replied, his voice lowering a tad. “Especially in people who can keep up. I’ll give you a hint, though. Being on the road isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. After a while, you start seeing how shitty it can be, y’know.” 

“I’d imagine.” she said softly. 

His voice shifted. “It’s humbling to get back into the spot you were before the big lights. Even for a little.”

She was quiet for a moment, letting the tension linger between them before speaking again. “Sounds like you’re not in that life anymore?”

His laugh was soft, yet gravely and laced with amusement. “No. That bit is behind me. The memories stay for years. They stick around. Like the people who truly get it, the ones who really know what it’s like, y’know?” 

Her curiosity peaked, but she didn’t lead on. “So, you’re saying I’ve got to be in the elusive ‘get it’ club to understand?” she asked with a playful edge. 

“Maybe,” D teased. “Or maybe I’ll just show you what happens when you start looking beyond the hairspray and pretty men. You know, in person?”

Her heart skipped. There it was again! That invitation, hanging in the air like a challenge she couldn’t resist. 

“I guess I’ll have to be properly schooled this weekend.” she chuckled. “If you think you can handle all of my beauty and charm… and wit.” she said ever so sarcastically. 

D’s voice dropped to a lower amused pitch, “Oh I know I can, I’m sure. But we’ll see how tough you are, no audience, no mic.” he chuckled.

“I guess we’ll have to see. Check your inbox, send the deets there.” she giggled. The listener count had spiked up, she hadn’t even noticed. She was too busy writing the caller number on a nearby notepad to contact this illusive D. 

After that shift the plan was set, her phone buzzing moments later.

D: So, Saturday night, 8PM. Guess you’re calling out sick to your loyal listeners?

She stared at the message, the playfulness in his text was unmistakable. It kind of hit her though, she hoped it wasn’t some total uggo just playing around. He didn’t have to be a looker or anything, she kind of just created some hot fantasy subconsciously. Her fingers hovered the keyboard, then she bit a fraction of the skin of her bottom lip and typed. 

You: You better not be all talk. I’ll be there, abandoning my favorite group of loners for you.

The typing popped up on her screen. She couldn’t help but giggle.

D:  I already promised. See you at the station.

Saturday morning came by fast, and the hours were slipping by before she could really prepare for meeting up with this D character. On the off chance he wasn’t some behemoth troll, she decided to play the game and get all pretty regardless. 

Standing in front of the mirror, a bundle of excitement and nerves playing in her gut. Her hair cascaded in soft waves, hands trembling as she worked her locks. She had already chosen a simple outfit, a black slip dress and black sheer stockings. She slid on kitten heels, trying to at least look like she was there for a “good time” and not too try hard.

The clock struck 7:45pm and at this rate, she had been ready for hours. Waiting around, not wanting to be too early. Her heart raced as she took one more good look in the mirror. She sighed and got her purse, excited and nervous all at once. She stepped out of her apartment, and locked the door behind her. 

The rain had settled in the past couple of days, a grey gloom remained. The neon lit reflections make an appearance in the vague drizzle. She tried to wind up her confidence she led on in her show, and that she had interacted with him this entire time with. 

The idea of being around a personality who collided so well with hers made her stomach flip in anticipation. 

When she stood by the radio station, she immediately scanned the street, watching oncomers with intent. She immediately glanced down at her phone, going to ask where he was when an extremely tall figure stood in front of her. 

She looked up, she picked up on the features before her brain could even scream out his real name in all of its astonishment.

 His hair was styled in a tousled way, the hints of grey but the natural blonde shone through his hair. His face was the same as the magazine covers that had moved her to make a show about the genre, only aged, only more scruffy, timelessly rugged. She took it all in, his tattooed arms, the way he dressed in a simple black band shirt, a cross chain, how it hung off his slender body?

She was awestruck, Duff Mckagan stood right before her. Guns N Roses was everything to her, absolutely everything. One of her immediately loved bands, always updating the show on their every news, more so than other bands. This was the best possible thing to come out of this. 

The dazed look on her face, jaw hung slightly open. He listened to the show, that asshole knew what kind of reaction this would get out of her this whole time. Warranting the smirk she had imagined behind the static, being plastered on the face of her absolute favorite bassist. Who knew now that he was, she knew immediately he’d hold all of her spoken affections to him.

Duff smiled down at her, his hands in his jean pockets. “You look like you’re thinking of running out of here.” he said, his voice so warm and clear, yet all the more rough now that it was in front of her. 

Her heart thudded, this was her absolute dream since she started the show. An unrealistic one sure? A girlish unmistakable attraction built inside of her, one that was always there of course, it was Duff McKagan. But this was also D, the personality that charmed her to no end. 

Her face crept into a shy smile, trying to force that personality she had put up for days. “Not quite,” she looked up at him, “Just taking in the fact you’re not… you’re… you?” she stuttered. In disbelief understandably.

He smirked still looking down at her and her gloomy little get up, he liked this. “Oh I’m sure I’ve lived up to all your expectations, huh? All those praises you’ve been throwing my way” he said, clearly amused by the idea. “I thought I was just another call-in but, you talk about this old bassist more than you let on, y’know? You had no clue.” 

She wanted to die and melt into the earth, in a good way. Her cheeks immediately flaring pink. Of course he was going to bring that up, she thought. Her lips twitched between embarrassment and amusement. “I—what?” She tried to recover quickly, though she could already feel her face warming at the thought of it. The unabashed admiration she had casually thrown into the open radio air, wrapped up in excited ramblings about GnR? She was so screwed.

Duff chuckled sensing her realization, “I mean it’s cool,” he continued. “You’ve been raving about me and the old guys for weeks. What was it you said? ‘Unparalleled character’ or something like that?” His smirk was practically etched into his face. “You like me? If that even scratches the surface of it.” 

She was still extremely embarrassed and also excited for how this night could possibly continue. D was Duff, she was here, that electric personality was her all time favorite. How would anyone recover? She gulped quietly and pursed her lips, trying to. 

Duff laughed again, low and rich, like a guilty pleasure. “Oh I’ve been listening alright. Don’t think I missed a word. Couldn’t help myself, y’know? You’re so charming when you talk about me. It’s like that sarcasm and wit just becomes girlish gossip in those segments.” 

There was something about the way he said it, something that made her wonder if he was playing her or if he actually enjoyed her vocal passion about him, she was after all cool-headed, and relaxed on air. He picked up on that demeanor change when she spoke about Guns N’ Roses.

She didn’t know how to respond to that, so instead she deflected with a quick and really shaky sarcastic reply. A hand to her hip, looking up at the statue of a man with red flushed cheeks “So what’s your point Mckagan? You’re just trying to get me to say I think you’re as cool as your band right?”

“Oh absolutely,” he responded. His voice dripped with mock sincerity. “Because if you don’t admit it, I might just have to leave you right here by your own radio station, and go find someone else who gets it.” 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re too cocky for your own good,” she shot back through an unstifled smile. “You know you have a huge ego.” 

He nodded with his hands in the air in mock defense. “At least I have some talent to back it up, do you know who I am?” he jested.

She raised a brow, the challenge in his voice making her heart race. “Oh so you’re a legend now? Tell me, should I be getting your autograph or…” she led on.

“Aw come on.” he replied, his voice a playful murmur. “Don’t pretend you’re not into it. You've been talking about me for weeks, I’ve only just started calling in two weeks ago.”

She almost let her composure slip, as if that mattered at this rate. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or deeply worried you’ve been keeping track for all this time.”

“Both,” he said with a chuckle. “I’d definitely say both.”

Their banter felt like it had its own rhythm, playful and flirty. Their eyes kept locking for longer than it should. Despite the teasing, she felt a real connection here. It was chemistry and curiosity. Like they were both looking for something, and daring the other to find it in each other. It was tense and rich, a thrill she had longed for in her boring grey life.

The night stretched on, full of shared stories, laughter, and the ease that came from spending time with someone who just gets it. They finally decided to head back to her place, a few blocks away. It wasn’t about impressing each other, just wanting to know more. 

“So you’ve been in that world for a while. It’s hard to imagine you just leaving the whole thing.” she mused, leaning against the counter. Duff sat on one of her stools on the other end, leaning on his elbows. 

“Wasn’t an easy decision, but it gets to a point y'know? I’m old.” he said, taking a drink on his now second bottle of beer. She nodded, as cool as she was trying to be, she couldn’t help but look onto him. How beautifully he had aged, she was far younger than him of course. A college student, and he was in his early sixties, but she couldn’t help the way she looked at him. He was just too appealing. 

Regardless she found herself nodding.

The night stretched on, with drunk laughter and comfortable silences filling the apartment. They  shared stories, and they both felt the chemistry growing between them, it was undeniable. Her hand grazed his arm as she reached over for another shot, which they were so drunk they hadn’t exactly remembered getting it out.

They gave each other a drunk knowing glance, everything was slower, every little touch just a bit more hypnotic and obvious. She felt a shiver go down her spine as his darkened gaze looked at her after the mistake. They stared at each other way too long, pushing past the barrier of the radio show host and her favorite caller. They were long past it a couple shots and stories ago.

Interrupting her thoughts, he leaned into her neck as she sat on the stool next to him. “You know, as charming as you are on the air…” he began. Her fingers tensing around her empty shot glass. “I think I’d approach you, persona or not.”

She stiffened at the feel of his half-grown stubble grazing her neck, the exact kind of masculinity that ruined women in stories like this, all this time firmly believing she was stronger than that. But she was just no different was she? Her breath hitched in her throat, her eyes going wide no matter how she forced it not to show. 

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice came out too light, too airy, too not her. She hated it. Hated how it stripped her of the venom straight from her tone with just his closeness. Her usual bite dissolves distressingly fast, melting into something so shamefully soft. 

Her hands rose, sliding under his arms to his neck, her fingers clinging there as if instinct told her to not let him get away. He leaned closer, their bodies pulled by an invisible heat.

This was Duff. Duff. 

The same man whose music had sparked only the dirtiest nights alone in her younger years. The man she’d praise to hell and back on air without a clue he was listening. None of the lines she’d drawn for herself mattered now, not his age, his legacy, not the sinking guilt that she should’ve known better? She didn’t care.

He lifted his face from her neck, she swore right there he could read her mind. His dark gaze looked at her flushed face, drinking in the way she blinked slow and heavy– no longer daring him of anything, but asking for something. Subtly. Shamefully. Like he had her under some kind of spell, which he did.

The way her thighs came together didn’t go unnoticed, his rough hand slid down, thumbing a slow teasing path along her inner thigh, beneath the hem of her already short dress.

“Oh don’t try to look so tough now,” he murmured briskly, inches away from her face. His tall frame slid off the stool with ease, crouching down in front of her. She jolted when his knee touched the floor, like the sheer shift in position made everything more real. She could feel herself beneath her dress getting more needy. She gripped the sides of her stool hard. 

“You were all mouth today,” he muttered, clearly enjoying himself.  “Slick little comebacks, your sarcastic radio shtick, right?” His other knee hit the floor. He looked up at her with something between amusement and mock pity, his lip curling slightly.

“All that ‘cool girl’ edge for your little phone-in fan club,” he murmured, dragging his fingers higher on her leg. “But just look at you now.”

Her breath trembled in her throat. Duff tilted his head slightly, like he was just admiring her unraveling. Watching her. Loving how he’d peeled it all back without much effort. And that smug, devastating look of his?

It violently ruined her composure. 

Because he was right. She was all mouth. 

His hand slid higher, thumbing the inside of her thigh with practiced ease, and he grinned like the devil when she shuddered more frequently under his touch. Still firmly gripping the sides of her stool like they were the only thing keeping her tied to reality, she was coming completely undone.

“God look at you,” he murmured, low and amused, watching this ‘cool girl’ fall apart in real time. “Didn’t even have to try.”

Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Her mascaraed eyes were wide and glassy, lipstick smudged from drinking moments ago, a normalcy that felt like eons ago. 

“This is the same girl right?” he asked from between her thighs. “The same girl who talks circles around her callers? You sounded so in charge over the radio. So untouchable.”

She whimpered. Actually whimpered at how humiliatingly true that was. He knew everything. He listened to everything. All those nights she’d talk so highly about all these famous musicians like they were her gods, how they carved her into the personality that she was, flirted with him without knowing it was him. And now here she was, on his knees between her legs, looking like she was going to be the next bitch he’d sink his teeth into.

“God, you should hear yourself.” he said, leaning into her right inner thigh, his thin lips and stubble making themselves known as he talked against her leg. “Begging in your breath. You’re not even hiding it anymore.” 

Her face burned. Her thighs trembled. She was so wet it was actually embarrassing, her panties clinging to her anatomy in  the worst way. She tried to shift, close her legs instinctively, like closing them even a tad would recover herself.

“Oh hell no, you don’t get to play shy. Not after all that big talk and praise.” he cooed, all wicked and low between her. His every annunciation felt on the sensitive skin between her legs. She felt like she was on fucking fire. 

He looked up at her hungrily, he rolled her eyes. “You gonna cut the shit and tell me how bad you wanted this?” he asked, breath hot. “You ever touch yourself listening to my voice on those late night shows? I bet being a media outlet just gave you so much content.”

She gasped, the humiliation a fire in her stomach. Her lips quivered. “I… maybe.” 

“Oh, maybe?” he mocked, his fingers dragging across the soaked fabric between her legs. “C’mon. The girl who always has clever little comebacks on her show is unsure of herself now?”

She groaned, bucking her hips forward. Desperate. It was messy. Sloppy. Her thighs parted with no fight at all at this point. Her heels digging into her floor for leverage. She needed him, and the raw shame of how quickly she had folded only turned the both of them  on.

He smiled at this, “Yeah… there she is.” His voice smoothly darkened, like he personally knew this side to her for ages. They had met today, but he was oh so familiar with how much she liked him. “My messy girl,” he said, satisfied with her physical honesty.

Her panties were practically pasted to her, the heat between her legs pulsing with every syllable he threw at her. His ever growing ego, already keeping him from being quiet.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” he muttered, sliding his hand beneath her, not to fuck her,  to cup her. Palm curved perfectly to feel every wet, hot pulse of her cunt as she dripped down onto him, her arousal leaking into the creases of his aged hands.

“Fuck. Won’t you listen to yourself? Look at the fight you lost so miserably.” he mused.

She sobbed a pathetic, strung out wail. He took that same hand, slick with her and slapped her cheek with it. Not hard, just enough to make her feel it. To leave a warm humiliating wet mark across her skin. Her head jerked slightly with the motion, a deranged glaze in her eyes. 

Her cheeks were blazing, she didn’t look away. Her eyes stayed locked to his, dizzy and dark and so painfully needy, it hurt.

He grabbed her jaw, fingers digging in, almost cruelly.

“You stay the fuck with me baby, don’t get all dumb now. You wanted to be seen, didn’t you? You talked a big, big game.” 

She was beyond thought, rational ones at that. She just asked. It’s all she could do.

“Please. Fuck… fuck– please.” she pleaded, hardly breathing.

He scoffed, loving this side of her, as humiliating as this was for her. He was growing more and more fond of her as far as she let go. “Oh please what?” he cruelly taunted. “You even asking to do something dirty? Or are you just doing all this to sit here, sob on my lap while I make you cum without even taking my cock out.”

Her moan broke mid air, her hands tangling in his shirt. She didn’t even know what she wanted, she felt like she never knew anything until now. 

He stood over her, still sat in the same stool where she was just chatting with him. Looking up at him desperately. One hand remained knuckle deep in her cunt, the other violently gripping her face, never for a moment letting her gaze slip from his intense one.

He spits on her face, her eyes only fluttering shut for the first time in ages to avoid his spit. She let it slide down her ruined face. Her own fluids and his spit melting into each other as they remained on her face. 

He slapped her again. “You’ll remember this every time you hear my voice now, huh?” he lowly said, nearly inside of her ear. “Next time you sit this cute ass in that little booth, playing those tapes and old interviews? Just know one of ‘em lived in your headphones, and now he’s the reason you’re a shell of the cool girl they know.” he threatened so deliciously.

She had a dazed and weary longing look, her eyebrows turned upward and glassy. She nodded as if he was the only thing in the world that she could ever need to get by, to be told what to like, hate, what to do. She felt so completely his. 

She came. Hard. Her hips violently bucking into his hand, her full body shattering against him with a cry that would’ve embarrassed her if she still had any pride left.

But she didn’t.

Of course she didn’t.

This is all she wanted, to be the lame one in any interaction. To not be the more knowing one, to be completely and utterly subordinate. 

Her orgasm didn’t even fully release its grip on her, thighs still twitching, her body malleable and soaked with aftershocks when he grabbed her wrist and stood her up in one full motion. 

Her mess sliding down her leg, not getting a chance to even soak into the fabric of her underwear.

She was so excited.

She squealed and gasped as he spun her onto the counter, where their remaining beer and empty shot glasses reminded them of how they even got here.

The cold edge of the counter met her ass with a sharp thud, and before she could catch her breath, he was already caging her in, surrounding her in his tall stature.

“It pisses me off that you think we’re done, you’re cute for that.” he said darkly amused. Hell yes. This was all she wanted, the be talked circles around for change, for anyone to truthfully best her. This was heaven.

She barely had time to breathe before he yanked her dress up with both of his hands, bunched it around her waist and shoved her panties aside, ripping her sheer stockings in the process like they were garbage.

Her eyes watched everything he did, to the point where she held her breath to see what he was going to do with her exposed entrance. He tugged violently at his belt, throwing it aside. His force just as mean to her as it was to the button of his jeans.

He slammed into her as soon as it got out, not even giving her a chance to see any vein, nothing but the size and girth.

She choked on a scream, her fingers clawing behind his neck, the sudden stretch of him inside of her blinding. She never felt more lightheaded, like she was far from alive. It was perfect.

He didn’t ease in. There was no ceremony. No sweetness. Just filth. 

Just a man who’d listened to her voice for months, jerking off to her smug little interactions and her high praise of him and his band. Finally under him, where he firmly believed she belonged this whole time.

His hips snapped against hers in a brutal rhythmic slam. She wasn’t sure if she was moaning or sobbing, or even begging. Whatever it was, he drank it in like it made him harder.

He gripped her hips so tightly, she’d bruise. She wanted it to bruise, she never wanted this heightened ecstasy to leave her even months after. Each thrust knocking the wind out of her, hair sticking to the mess on her face in strands. 

“Say something now.” he panted, leaning into her. “C’mon little host, our lady of the hour. No more one-liners to share with me?” 

She didn’t try, she didn’t want to try. Her past persona a disgrace in her mind if it kept her from treatment like this for ages.

“That’s what I thought.” he dimly smiled, a soft gesture of thumbing away her stuck hair from her face. “My poor thing, that attitude surely didn’t last long.”

He didn’t slow, didn’t stop.

She couldn’t even count how many times either of them probably came, too mentally far away to even recognize it. 

And she loved it. Every second. Every degrading word. The physical example of her being the least smart one in the room, an erotic humbling she had longed for everyday.

She finally embraced what she thought she was better than for ages, a slut, a gross perverted radio host with the furthest of innocent intentions with her hoped connections.

The apartment had gone quiet, save for the steady hum of her body still trembling in the aftermath. She was completely laid out on the counter. A little bruised, a little adored. 

She brought her weak hands to her body, finding every physical evidence of his rage all over her, every indent of his teeth marks brought an exhausted smile and gasp as she found them. 

Duff was resting his forehead on her lower abdomen. His chest rising and falling with unhurried breaths, watching her like a satisfied animal. 

Her lips were red and kiss bruised, mascara smeared from the corners of her eyes. She never felt more settled. Anchored. 

He came up and held her to his naked body, none of them remembering the motions of getting naked. He kissed her forehead, he sat her on his lap on the stools. Gentle. Disgustingly gentle for a man who just made her sob and drool all over her own kitchen counter.

“You done pretending? For me at least?” he whispered into the crook of her neck, peppering it with kisses. Her voice was hoarse. “It’s beyond you.” 

Duff spent the night, the shower and sleep after it all the more of a reminder of what pretending to be a proud cool-headed girl kept from her. 

She lied in bed with Duff, the most tired and gratified she had ever been. She knew what she’d have to do.

It was the last time the “ON AIR” light would glow.

She leaned into her mic, her voice all polite and graceful. Changed.

“If you spent your 2-4 AM’s with me, I wanna thank you personally. Thank you for wasting your time with me. Even the weird ones. It’s not forever, I love you guys too much.”

A pause as she held her finger over the switch. 

“I just wanna thank a very special one of you.” she said, her eyes glinting upward. “I’m happy to have put on the rawest show for you.” she said softly into the mic. 

Click.

She slung her bag over her shoulder, switching the light off in the room without any reluctance.

The “ON AIR” light blinked off. The silence was as erotic as ever, not empty. She felt claimed.

The guest seat wasn’t empty tonight, Duff proudly coming up to wrap his arm around her and walk her out. Smugly looking down at her as she was his prize.

She was something else entirely as she left the station for the last time.

note: this was my first fanfic i hope you enjoyed <3

[shhinigamii]

do you guys still fw me?🥺

[90sd0ll]

ᴀxʟ ʀᴏsᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴜғғ ᴍᴄᴋᴀɢᴀɴ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ‘ᴀɴᴅʀᴇᴡ ᴅɪᴄᴇ ᴄʟᴀʏ sʜᴏᴡ’ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ɪɴ ʟᴏs ᴀɴɢᴇʟᴇs, ᴄᴀʟɪғᴏʀɴɪᴀ ᴏɴ ᴀᴘʀɪʟ 𝟿ᴛʜ, 𝟷𝟿𝟾𝟿 - 💋

📷; ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴠɪɴɴɪᴇ ᴢᴜғғᴀɴᴛᴇ/ɢᴇᴛᴛʏ ɪᴍᴀɢᴇs !