#peripheria

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

Mapping Madrid: Week 8

I KNOW it's been a while and i'm so so sorry. but look. Carabanchel! peace and love on planet earth <3. so... i had to get a book from carabanchel's public library and i was like... hey let's do a mapping madrid while we're at it! coincidentally the roulette has now twice in a row landed on carabanchel so. i had no other option. as you can see, however, the station featured in this post is Carabanchel Alto ('High Carabanchel'), which was the result of me walking around not really knowing where i was going and realising i was 50 mins away from Carabanchel and only 30 from Carabanchel Alto once i wanted to go back home. the bad thing is... Carabanchel is in my beloved line 5, whereas carabanchel alto is in the dreaded line 11. let me talk about line 11 for a minute, cause it made my trip back home twice as long (it almost took me 2 hours lol) and it's now my archnemesis. it is the shortest metro line in the city (with the exception of Ramal i guess. also they're now expanding it i think but still) and it only has one entry point through line 6, so it's basically a bottleneck. i hate it so much. en fin. Carabanchel is one of the 21 districts of Madrid, and it used to be an independent town back in the day before being annexed by Madrid. In fact, it was two towns, Carabanchel and Carabanchel Alto, that's why there's that distinction. It is a very working class area of the city, with lots of immigrants and diversity, and for me Carabanchel is the beating heart of Madrid, as here is where the biggest festivities and traditions take place, and the people here are the proudest and the bestest honestly <3 As I said previously, I mainly wandered around after going to the library (which didn't have the book I wanted rip) listening to a new podcast I just found (I really recommend it, it's called 'No hay negros en el Tíbet') and sitting for a bit to read some Catullus (<3). Most of the time I was in this kinda new-ish area, it reminded me a lot of Loranca, part of Fuenlabrada which is one of the big southern cities (here's a post about Madrid's peripheria I made a few years ago in case you wanna know more about that), where my cousin and uncles live. Only at the end I got to the traditional 'old town', but by then my phone was dying so i didn't take many pictures unfortunately. Also I am pretty sure I passed by possibly the most important place in Carabanchel, the old Carabanchel Prison, which was established during the Francoist era and was the largest and harshest prison in the country, torturing thousands political prisoners (NEVERMIND I JUST READ ON WIKIPEDIA THAT IT WAS DEMOLISHED IN 2008. NO IDEA WHAT I SAW THEN).

[walt-thisney]

Review @ Bad Alchemy Magazine ( Germany )

Fernando Cerqueira ist der rote Faden, der SPH als post-industriales Kassettenforum der Jahre 1990-94 verknüpft mit Thisco als 2001 zusammen mit Luis Van Seixas gegründetes Spielfeld der Sound Culture. Seit der 2015 begonnenen und 2021 explosiven Auf­erweckung von SPH führt er beides parallel. Wobei er sich selber aktiv eingemischt hat mit Croniamantal und Ras.Al.Ghul, als Rasal.Asad und Whalt Thisney. Atonal 3(SPH110, C-46) knüpft nun in Fortsetzung von „Atonal Vol 2 - Encyclopedia of Obscure Aural Won­ders – 80´s/90´s“ (SPH108, 2021) an „Atonal“ (SPH001, 1990) als dem einstigen Start­schuss an. Mit If, Bwana (Al Margolis), Pas Musique (Robert L. Pepper), Konstruktivists (Glenn Michael Wallis), Discmen (José António Moura), Geins't Naït (Laurent Petitgand & Thierry Mérigout) und Arcane Device (David Lee Myers). Dadurch, dass nur Kapotte Mu­zieks 'Various excerpts going at once from a concert at the Hörbar, Hamburg, 17 May 2012', 'Untitled (1980)' von Francisco Lopez und Manuel Motas 'Guitarra Electri-acústica 1996' zeitlich markiert sind, erschallt der Klang und Krach des elektrolurchigen Under­grounds als Kontinuum der vergangenen 4 ½ Jahrzehnte. Komprimiert sind die Turbinen und ratternden Züge der noch schweren Industriezeit und das Knistern, Bersten, Prasseln im elektrifizierten Nahbereich zum Hirnsausen und rabiaten Synapsenschliff, mit plunder­phonischen und ambienten Einsprengseln. Automatisch getaktet und sirrend als keuchen­de Hatz, als glissandierendes Surren und Jaulen, als 'sprechendes' und gabber-quickes Breakbeat-Zang-Tumb-Tumb. Mit bläschenfeinem Prickeln und Mikrodetonationen im rau­schenden Beinahenichts. Mit dumpf in sich kreisender, von verzerrter Stimme zerkratzter Melodik, stehendem Feedback oder, wieder mit verzerrter Computerstimme, einem noch­mal rotierenden Mahlwerk. Und einem steppenden, wummernden Ausklang. [BA 123 rbd]

Auf Thisco ertönt derweil Luis Van Seixas als Sci Fi Industries aus St. Petersburg in Flo­rida mit den digitalen Alben „Inherent Red Vice“ und „Evidence is Futile“, neben Industrial Psyche-Punk von the pop ritual oder, illustriert mit dem Tierkreiszeichen 'Ziegenfisch'= Steinbock, dem gitarrenrituellen „Stellium“ von Taj Chander, beide aus Memphis, Tennes­see. Cerqueira seinerseits präsentiert als WHALTHISNEY sich als „Hypnothist“ (auf 23 Stab Wounds Rec.) und „Othist“ (auf Brutalize Rec.) und mit dumpfer Pianomelancholie zu Dröhn- und Zitterwellen Polymathism (Thisco, C-46) als weiteren Ismus neben etwa „Psi­thurism“ [Blätter, die im Wind rascheln], „Lefthism“, „Automathism“, „Quiethism“ oder „Concrethism“. Ein Polymath war einst ein Universalgelehrter, ein Homo universalis, dem Cerqueira auf der Dark Side der Moderne gegenübersteht als nur noch postmoderner Eklektiker, der zwischen Paradise Motel und Sweet Hellfire von den Beständen zehrt – Exotica, Discreet Music, Musique d'Ameublement, Mood Music. Mit Schwitters („Merzbau­ten“), Baudrillard („Simulacra“), Debord („Dérive“, „Musica Psychogeographica“), Virilio („This Dromocracy“), R.A. Wilson („Discordia“, „Musica Eristica“), Thierry Hentsch („Mpire of Desire“), Thomas Frank („Commodify Your Dissent“), W. G. Sebald ('After Nature') als Stichwortgebern. Mit verneinten und dennoch angeeigneten Begriffen – ThisContinuum, Thisillusion, Thisquietude, Endotica, Thisowned, Etopia, Thiscordiana, Thisruption, This­equilibrium... Die Sexploitation geschwärzt. Aus Dis- (miss-, nicht-, zer-, un-) wird This, aus Eskapismus wird Fluchthilfe aus den Ketten der „Buyology“ und der 'Tyranny of the Mo­ment' ins 'Edgeland', in die 'Peripheria', die Einsamkeit, Thisneys „Mondo Lostalgico“. Who walks alone in the streets at night? The sad, the mad, the bad. The lost, the lonely. The sleepless, the homeless. All the city’s internal exiles. The night has always been the time for daylight’s dispossessed – the dissident, the different. Hier mit einer Sammlung ver­streuter Hauntologismen, die als 'Atmosphera', 'Temporality', 'Lamento', 'Surrender', 'Darkspace', 'Summer Nightfall', 'Disengage' schon ihr Spätgeborensein, ihre Leeseitigkeit andeuten. Und ausgießen in klimpernder Tristesse, dröhnendem Moll und manchmal dazu raunenden Stimmen, kaskadierend platzenden Bläschen oder müdem Kontrabasspizzi­cato. Aber: 'You decide the end of the story'. [BA 123 rbd]

[magicalgirl99]

Design for NEW TAROT / WORLD'S PERIPHERIA by DJSJ / 2023

[42bakery]

It's not an official symbol, but you'll see that flag at any VOX event. That's why I said that the flag is linked to the Extreme right.

It's never just a regional support, it's just that people don't see it with such as bad eyes as people from the peripheria (which in reality is people from Galicia, Basque Country, Catalonia and Valencia because they are the ones with stronger regionalism sentiment (sometimes Andalucia too, but it's a bit different) and a different language.

What I tried to say, it's that for me that flag is an instant red flag and a turn around, whereas someone from Madrid might not want to turn around as quick as me. But again this is linked to the personal preferences. In Catalonia we also have people that will display that flag and be from the extreme right and there will be people from Madrid that wants to run away or rip the flag.

sorry but wouldn't it be kinda stupid of jorge to use that flag? i mean if the majority of spain recognizes that flag as far right symbol it feels really weird that nobody on his team told him to change flag and use a regular spain one considering that motogp respects the different regions and uses the rights flags for their gps and also considering how the riders try to/have to appear apolitical

like it doesn't make sense for him to choose such a divisive and controversial symbol on tv, especially when he's trying to get picked by ducati, he doesn't need a scandal. could it be that he just doesn't know the meaning or is that impossible?

Hey Isabella 👋👋👋👋👋

The flag and the bull is a bit more complicated than see it and automatically far/extreme right. That bull as @babynflames ( https://www.tumblr.com/babynflames/750298627086417920/the-osborne-bull-first-appeared-next-to-spanish ) pointed out was used to represent Spain as a whole during the dictatorship. Some people, specially in the centre of Spain (mostly both Castilles and Madrid) see it just a Spanish symbol, where as I from the periphery and a region with strong nationalism feelings see it as another imposition.

That flag will mostly be displayed by the right and extreme right, but not all the people with it will be from that party. As I said to the anon before symbols that are so wide associated with Spain are not always seen okay in Catalonia, and therefore, Jorge who is from Madrid can see them a bit differently. Also Madrid has marketed themselves as the perfect spot for holidays for people from outside Spain, but in reality the right is winning.

That flag is the same one his parents have had since before Jorge was born and given to him as a present, a memento, for his first win so no one from his family will say anything. And anon pointed that his new friends and group is from that ideology, hence why they aren't going to discourage it. About the team? How can people from outside of Spain say anything when they don't know the meaning of it? True that he has Fonsi Nieto, but he's a white privilege man from Madrid living from his uncle's (not even his dad! He's actually the son of Ángel's sister) fame.

There also the fact that due to the political differences between the centre of Spain and the periphery of it, some people will actually be happy that they have someone carrying their same values as oposite as Aleix who is vocal about having his own Catalan identity. Jorge doesn't need to make himself marketable for the Catalan public, we already have Rins, The Márquez, the Espargarós, and Maverick. Jorge is catering himself for the Madrid (and centre of Spain) public, so yeah so will be extremely happy to see that flag.

Riders being apoliticals is actually a joke. I remember that a few years back the backlash Aleix and Pol got due to Aleix words (as always) because media interpreted Aleix was pro Catalan independence, when in reality he only said he was pro-choice. Rider are afraid to open their mouth some times, but they are actually allowed to say and do whatever they want. I don't know why DORNA and Carmelo allows that flag, unless they are actually okay with it.

Ducati already chose him using that flag. I started to watch MotoGP in 2020 and I remember him in parc Fermé in Moto2 with the flag and later that same year he was announce. Ducati can't care less. They will sweep it under the rug, but if people in the internet didn't know until I mentioned it yesterday, do you think Ducati have the time to check it?

The photo above is Jorge after winning his Moto3 championship and he's already displaying the flag with the bull's siluete.

It's true that is stupid of his part and he might not really know the meaning, but given that he has been liking VOX post and how how many of this flags are popping in their events is easy to put 2 and 2 together. At this point he is just refusing to learn the meaning of the flag or chooses to ignore it.

Sorry I feel like I went out of the tangent and I'm just dumping political stuff into your laps

[pretty-dead-dog]

[gebo4482]

David Coquard-Dassault’s Bleak and Beautiful “Peripheria” (stashmedia.tv)

[collecting-animations]

Peripheria by David Coquard-Dassault

Starkly beatiful, intense and dark. Both rich and minimalist and very evocative.

[ardate]

Peripheria, by David Coquard-Dassault [x]

[vcrtigoes-a]

@killmeorfuckoff​ sent  /   ♙ : Sharing a bed

" oh piss off, stoker, you can’t tell me you didn’t check the reservation. ” or ... had that been his task? alright, it wasn’t as if either of them had only one job to get this done when there were enough adjoining statements, files, and photographs to make two boxes of its own. 

quick field research, elias had recommended with all the abruptness and grace of someone who simply didn’t want either of them around and none of the care if they knew it. it was fine - mike hardly objected the notion of fresh air so long as the sky remained clear. 

( it ought to, so long as he willed it, the vast would keep him safe - yet the silent, strobing flicker at the edge of his peripheral some nights presented another reality. it had put him here. )

it occurred to him for a moment, to offer up the notion he really didn’t need to sleep, but his own sense of discretion keeps him quiet. not as if it was something he really felt like arguing about anyway. at least it was only tim; had it been someone like the archivist, originally intended, only one of them might have come back. for three days, most of it spent trying to locate and persuade leads into the whereabouts of some fenced cursed artifacts, well, he would live.

“ if you steal blankets i’m putting you out the window. ” easy enough to assume the flippant comment as jest as he draped his coat over a chair. it only mostly was.

[unintended-escape]

Peripheria (2015) dir. David Coquard-Dassault

[benjyblikes]

brilliant @coquarddassault

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

this time of the year is when the popular festivities of the barrios in madrid take place and 🥰

[underawarmgoldenlight]

Peripheria (2001, dir. Tobias Schmucking)

[beca-mitchell]

"I'll wait until Chloe gets home so I can ask her," Beca chuckled as she put her headphones back on.

She turned around, ready to end the conversation when, in a swift movement, Aubrey turned her chair around, forcing her to look into her eyes and maybe if Beca hadn't seen Aubrey angry before she would've been afraid, but this wasn't angry.

No.

Aubrey could pout and furrow her brow all she wanted, Beca knew it was all a façade. A terrible one, by the way.

"Dude just admit it, it's not a bad thing."

"I'm not going to admit to something I'm not!"

"Then the conversation's over! I'll wait for Chloe, like I said. She'll tell me the truth."

A smirk appeared on her features as Aubrey's face got exponentially redder. The hand that was grabbing onto her shoulder for support dug onto her skin and Beca would've winced if this wasn't so fucking funny.

"Don't you dare."

"Or what? I know you won't do much. You can't."

"Can too!"

Beca licked her lips. Over Aubrey's ragged breathing she heard the front door open.

"Just admit it Aubrey," she raised her voice enough to catch the attention of the curious footsteps that quickly climbed up the stairs towards the room.

"I've got nothing to admit!"

The door opened slowly. Beca braced herself for the confrontation.

"Chloe, can you tell Aubrey there's nothing wrong with being a bottom?"

Aubrey's eyes widened as the sight of Chloe appeared in her peripheria and with a horrified shriek she let go of Beca's shoulder.

"I'm not...!"

Chloe's giggles drowned Aubrey's complaints and Beca's malicious laughter. As she took off her jacket and boots, she didn't even bother to look at either of them.

"Of course there's nothing wrong! I wouldn't know since I'm the one doing all the work," she started, moving innocently towards the bed. "But Beca's an expert on the matter, Bree!"

Beca's life flashed before her eyes.

"She's a power bottom, after all."

SCREAM SJJSJFKF WHY IS BECA SO ANNOYING 💀💀 this would happen though...Beca had that coming. so glad Chloe came home and set her bottoms in place. it must be exhausting being a top for both of them.

also wrf why have i been blessed with this gift 😭 this was so fun to read.

aubrey and beca = me and @pitch-perfect

[newsintheshell]

La Vetta degli Dei: nuovo trailer per il film d’animazione in arrivo su Netflix

L’adattamento del racconto firmato Jiro Taniguchi e Baku Yumemakura, diretto da Patrick Imbert, sbarcherà sulla piattaforma il 30 novembre. 

Annunciato nel 2015, il film d’animazione prodotto da Julianne Films, Walking The Dog e Melusine Productions sta finalmente per sbarcare su Netflix.

Il 30 novembre, infatti, arriverà in streaming sulla popolare piattaforma di video on demand “La Vetta degli Dei” (Kamigami no Itadaki), adattamento francese dell’omonimo manga del compianto Jiro Taniguchi, edito in Italia da Rizzoli Lizard, a sua volta tratto dal romanzo originale di Baku Yumemakura.

Il film è stato diretto da Patrick Imbert (Ernest & Celestine, Le Grand Méchant Renard et autres contes), che ne ha anche curato la sceneggiatura insieme a Magali Pouzol (Funan) e Jean-Charles Ostoréro. La direzione artistica è stata invece supervisionata da David Coquard-Dassault (Peripheria), mentre le musiche per la colonna sonora sono state composte da Amine Bouhafa (Un figlio, La bella e le bestie).

È il 1924. L’inglese George Mallory e il suo compagno di cordata Andrew Irvine si apprestano a un’impresa mai tentata prima: la scalata senza ossigeno degli 8848 metri del monte Everest. Sfortunatamente non torneranno mai a casa, lasciando avvolto nel mistero l’esito della loro avventura: i due sono stati o no i primi nella storia a raggiungere la “vetta degli Dei”? È quanto il fotografo Fukamachi decide di scoprire, dopo aver trovato in un negozietto nascosto nei meandri di Katmandu una macchina fotografica che pare essere appartenuta proprio a Mallory. Fukamachi sa che lo sviluppo della pellicola utilizzata dallo scalatore potrebbe riscrivere completamente la storia dell’alpinismo, ma la sua ricerca viene complicata dal misterioso furto dell’apparecchio e trasformata in una vera e propria indagine: un tuffo nei più profondi recessi di un cuore selvaggio e coraggioso, quello del “serpente velenoso” Habu Joji, lupo solitario che aspira alla più alta delle vette.

In via speciale, Netflix distribuirà la pellicola in modo limitato anche al cinema: il 24 novembre toccherà alle sale statunitensi, mentre il 26 novembre uscirà in alcuni cinema d’Europa e nel Regno Unito.

* NON VUOI PERDERTI NEANCHE UN POST? ENTRA NEL CANALE TELEGRAM! *

Autore: SilenziO)))

[FONTE]

[naromoreau]

Eyes wide open

Pairing: Joseph Seed x Deputy Rook Rating: E (NSFTUMBLR) I wrote this idea based on one of the amazing @outranks’ hedcanons, you can find here. Also, big shout out to @outranks herself for being such an awesome friend and encourage and review this. SMOOCH. _______________________________________

Behind the lectern, Joseph wrings his fingers and lets out a sharp breath. It’s not as if he’s nervous. Perhaps a bit anxious. A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since the last time he felt like this about someone. Always waiting for her to show up as if he couldn’t concentrate otherwise. It’s hard to mask it though. His attention can’t be astray from his duty because his flock needs him, especially now. He’s the Father and they are his children.

And now more than ever he’s determined to strengthen the Project, having something especially precious to protect.

It’s just right then when he sees her.

His jaw tenses of its own accord and the air is suddenly puffed out of his lungs. There’s a dry click in his throat as he swallows, his cheeks flushing at improper – certainly impure – thoughts. He tries to deflect them, to scythe them completely, thinking about his sermon, but he finds no comfort there. His eyes swivel from the line of her chest up her face, where she’s looking at him with the biggest smile. A vestal virgin and wanton Venus all in one.

He clears his throat making an effort to smile nonchalantly, watching her take a seat in the front row next to Faith. Right in front of him.

//

By now he’s acutely aware of his dick already at full mast inside his pants, forcing him to keep his place behind the lectern. Her stiff nipples poke through the thin fabric and he feels his lips dry, stuttering in his speech. Big drops of sweat slide down his temples as he tries to sail through words that just haul his mind to wrong places.

“Lest again, when I come, God humble me among you, and I mourn many of them that sinned before, and have not done penance for the uncleanness and fornication and lasciviousness that they have committed, says the Apostle.” He almost gruffs at the irony, “and we should not let the root of that sin fester inside us.”

He grits his teeth when she shifts in her seat, uncrossing her legs and spreading them just enough to offer him a perfect view of her bare cunt. His cock throbs painfully and he musters all his will to not crack mid sentence and throw himself down the stairs and claim her. He’s only human, he thinks, and it stings like a pin prick. Her darkened eyes are burning into his skin as she leans forward, her full breasts almost spilling from her dress.  

He glances to the sides, casually, just to make sure no one is setting eyes on his Rook and he draws a breath of relief. The attention of the crowd is on him and him alone. The possessive vein pulsing inside, shrouds his mind, urging him to take her right then and there.

No. Focus.

What was he saying? The brief stop has John and Jacob already leaning forward, inquiring gazes directed at him. Joseph raises both hands and keeps going.

He forces himself to draw his attention elsewhere, to not dwell on her, but it’s easier said than done. His eyes are pull to Rook as if they were metal to a magnet, provoking even in the peripheria of his vision. He stomps down a growl when she draws her index finger to her lips, seemingly deep in thought, just to suck it gently, her lips pursing enticingly.

Images of Rook, smiling at him from between his thighs, the tip of his dick disappearing into her mouth, flood his mind in a slew that makes his blood run hot. It’d been just one time but every single move and sensation is scorched in his brain making him shiver whenever he decides to dredge them up. That’s more often than he wants to admit. He clasps the sides of the lectern tightly, knuckles white, and good Lord in heaven– It’s not lust. It’s not. She’s the only one who makes him feel like this.

He doesn’t know how, but he finishes the service, stumbling upon words. He beckons to John and Jacob to help him dismiss the faithful, and he’s sure by now John has a pretty tame idea of his predicament. It’s written on his face. Soon everyone is dispersed and away.

He finally set his eyes on Rook, narrowing them slightly, and nods once the doors close. If that’s what she wants, he wouldn’t fight against it anymore.

//

Rook’s heart thunders in her chest, blood buzzing in her ears as she winds up closer to Joseph, counting her steps as a form of grounding. Has she pushed too far? She can’t tell but yet she hopes. Wants to feel him fucking her, all tethers of his restraint loose until there’s only raw touch and lewd sounds, until they both are dazed by everything they are when they’re together.

She doesn’t want to admit to be bested in her own game, not yet, because she could’ve sworn she’d seen a crack in his calmness if just for the splinter of a second. Rook feels her slick wetness trickling down her thighs, her core aching for the thick fill of his dick. This is wrong. This is a sinner’s doing, but she can’t hack a low moan as the space disappears between them.  

As soon as she’s within his arm’s reach, Joseph pulls her close, his fingers curling around her arms so tightly she can feel how very disrupted he is. Shaky hands when he’s always firm. His breath puffs against her lips and she trembles under the intensity that radiates from him, her throat going dry. He presses her against a wall, giving her a bruising kiss, all tongue and teeth, and thick amounts of spilled lust. She gasps for air the moment he releases her, overwhelmed by the sheer force of what she intentionally unleashed. She can’t help but huddle closer when he finds her swollen folds, dipping two fingers inside her. Her teeth sink in her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

“So this is what you want?” It’s not a scolding, but the tint of his voice isn’t mellow.

He grinds her hips against hers and Rook whimpers, feeling his hard on rubbing her thigh. She wants to answer, wants to blurt out a yes, but he’s pushing words aside as he slides in and out of her, and the only thing she can do is nod.

“On your knees.”

Joseph’s order threatens to overload her, his voice thick as his need mounts on every word.

She does as she’s told, not doubting for a second, and a sliver of surprise gleams in her mind at the realization of how much she wants this. To let him do as he pleases and maybe, just maybe she’ll watch that self-control shatter like cracked glass.

He places a finger under her chin, tilting her head up, a dark smile dancing on those lips she craves to kiss. “You shouldn’t have done that, my dear,” he says. He frees his engorged erection and she can feel herself positively clenching. Aching.

“Done what?” She swallows a hard gulp, finally finding her voice, pretending it doesn’t affect her, pretending she still has a tinge of control.

“You know well I’m not one to be teased,” he chides softly. He pops the buttons of her dress open, baring her before him. “What if someone saw you? Did you think of that?” A flash of unhinged anger glimmers behind the yellow tinted glasses but Rook knows it’s not aimed at her.

“You wouldn’t let anyone touch me,” she purrs, trying to look as innocent as she knows she’d like.  

“You’re are not wrong, my dear.”

He pumps his dick, his rosary swinging from his palm in stark contradiction to the scene in place. She opens her mouth in a thoughtless reaction. Ragged breath in and out, air seems so scarce around her.

“Are you– are you really so eager to–”

Rook has never seen him stepping on his words, but now Joseph looks almost struck dumb,  

“Yes,” she says, flicking his tongue out and winding it around the thick head of his cock; her intentions crystal clear.

He groans, stricken, leaning down to cup her face.

He guides himself into her mouth and she takes him in. Rook tries to relax her jaw, otherwise she knows it’ll hurt next morning; a blessed ache regardless. He hisses as soon as she has her tongue flat against his ridges. His fingers flex against her skull, as he slides deeper down her throat.

“That’s my good girl,” he rasps, voice hoarse, “you’re perfect for me–so good, you take my cock so beautifully.”

She sinks her nails on his hips at the first deep thrust, gagging a little. He stills but she quickly bobs her head up and down, trying to show him. She can take it. She wants to. Her lips close tightly inches near the base, almost making her choke on his cock but she still manages to swallow, greedily. Her eyes squeeze shut, trying to give steady breaths pressing herself forward. Is worth it because Joseph is fucking her face, too far gone into her wet heat, head tipped back and mouth slack.  

He tightens the grip on her hair, twisting his wrist. “You’re made for me, and me alone, you hear me?” His words are airy, interspersed with grunts and puffs of needed air.

She makes some kind of noise that resembles a word. To shows she agrees. She knows he’s getting closer when his hips jut forward and his cock pulses in her mouth. A pang of disappointment arrows through her, her cunt aching to be filled, but she hollows her cheeks determined to swallow until the last drop he gives her. In that moment, Joseph stills, hefting her by the shoulders.

“As much as I’d love to come in your mouth, my darling, I think I need to claim other parts of you as well.” By now his eyes are just a thin rim of blue around dark pools of hunger. It makes her body feel like jello.

He kisses her again, gruffing a little as he swirls his tongue over teeth and palate, lips demanding against her own and swallowing the overflow of drool she accumulated within. She clings to the broad line of his shoulders, as if it was a lifeline. A sharp whimper is all what her wrecked throat manages.

Joseph turns her around, bending her over, making her press her hands flat against the wall. She grinds against him. Shamelessly. Some fiction is all she needs.

“You just need to ask, darling.” He nudges her entrance, teasing her and she knows this is just fair payback, “you’ll always get what you want from me.”

He pushes inside, burying himself to the hilt in one glide, and a whine catches in her chest as she rolls her hips to try and adjust to how thick he is. If she didn’t know him better, she’d think he’s as composed as always, but his push is a bit forceful and it would’ve chaffed her if she wasn’t soaking wet by now. She spreads her knees further apart, rotating her hips as if she could drag him deeper, moaning at the hard stretch of his cock.

Her calves burn, taut in the stretch and she’s glad she’s using heels. Joseph is a little bent but he’s still so much taller than her and she doesn’t think she would’ve manage to– to–. Her body jerks under his harsh thrusts, his pace nor gentle or slow. But it feels good, so fucking good she’ll break in no time. His hands slide over her hips, up her waist, one moving up, up, until he’s massaging her breasts. A very gentle squeeze in honest contrast with his hard fucking.

“My good girl, that’s what you are.”

She can feel the panted gust of his broken words on her back, flaring goosebumps on her skin, breath that’s catching in his throat in every syllable. She turns her neck, and the ravenous hunger flaring back from his eyes stings her deep. He cups her jaw catching her lips. It’s a sloppy kiss, far more animalistic than never before and Rook shudders feeling his hips slamming against her ass. Her hands slide down, coated in sweat, unable to support her but she finds some leverage to keep her hips poised.

“Come for me, darling, come around me, let me look at you,” Joseph whispers, leaning forward, hands curled around her hips. The beads of his rosary brushing intermittently against her thigh.   

Rook suddenly forgets how to breath, how to speak, mind numb by every steadfast touch and the thick fill inside her. “I just– I– please, please.”

She’s falling apart in a downward spiral, drawn to edge by Joseph fucking her open, testing her limits everytime he ruts against her, and she’s aware of that blissful ache in her cunt that predicts her imminent climax. Every thrust forces a word, a praise, a moan out of her until she finally comes, a whole constellation of stars revolving in her vision, a broken kind of sob rent from her throat and into the room. She loses herself to the ripples of pleasure and the rush of blood in her ears, body going limp. Joseph holds her, pressing flat kisses to the hollow crease of her back, up to the nape of her neck, his hands circling her waist until she’s able to stand on semi steady legs again. It feels so wet. She can feel it and hear it and she’s sure the gush of liquid must’ve soaked Joseph’s pants. He’s not complaining, only grunting at the quivering clench of her core, now practically hammering his way into her, faster and messier.

“You’re mine, my love,” he pants, withdrawing almost entirely just to slam back home. Once. Twice. And again. “You belong to me.”

His pace goes off rhythm, rough and frantic, and Rook lets out a muffled sob of anticipation.  His release comes swiftly, pulling her closer until her hips are flush with his, filling her up like he always does. A hard gasp as his only telltale.  

When he pulls out, she closes her thighs trying to prevent his come from dripping out. Something that comes natural to her after all this time. Joseph grins watching her, a low rumble of satisfaction in his chest and draws her closer. He kisses her, lips now soft, almost soothing. Calm after a storm.

“I think we may need atonement for this, my darling.”

She sighs, a shaky intake of breath, as her eyes flicker locking on his. “Yeah, I think you may be right.”

Joseph smiles, kissing the back of her hand. Always a gentleman. “Come, then, our bed is waiting for us.”