#heavy metal guitarist | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jimsbeetroot · 3 months ago

Text

𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡, 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 ♱ 𝐣𝐢𝐦 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐭

part three of the stains trilogy, if you will.

1. stains | 2. burns

warnings! smut! bratty? rough sex! foreplay! age gap relationship!

words; 3145

summary; after a night of disobeying jim completely, you wake up and face your not-so-pleased boyfriend. you, as you’ve promised, clean up that stupid couch, only for it to get messy again.

YOU WOKE UP WITH YOUR HEAD POUNDING, the harsh light streaming through the window only making it worse. Your throat was dry, your body felt heavy, and every inch of you reminded you of the drinks you’d downed last night.

You groaned, burying your face into the pillow, trying to piece together the events that led you to this miserable morning.

But the clearer the memories got, the more you cringed. You’d promised Jim you’d keep it together—just a few drinks with friends at his place, then a call when you were ready to be picked up. Simple, easy. But of course, you’d gone overboard.

You dragged yourself out of bed, slipping into one of Jim’s oversized t-shirts, your bare feet cold against the hardwood floor. You padded softly into the hallway, every step a reminder of your missteps the night before. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, beckoning you towards the living room.

Jim was already up, sitting on the edge of the couch with a steaming mug in his hand. His expression was calm, composed, but his eyes tracked your every move, a subtle mixture of amusement and annoyance dancing in his gaze. Your heart sank a little at the sight of him. He was wearing those worn-out jeans you loved, paired with a faded band t-shirt, his long hair pulled back in a loose bun. Despite the casual look, there was an air of quiet authority about him, a reminder that he’d been the responsible one while you’d been out of control.

“Morning,” Jim said, his voice low and even.

“Morning,” you mumbled back, feeling a pang of guilt at the warmth of his tone, even after the night you’d put him through.

“You look like hell,” he added with a smirk, taking a sip of his coffee. You rolled your eyes, but there was no heat behind it.

“Thanks, I feel like it too.” You plopped down on the other end of the couch, your gaze drifting to the stain still glaring back at you from the middle cushion. You couldn’t help but snort softly, a fleeting moment of comic relief in an otherwise awkward morning.

Jim’s eyes followed yours, landing on the stain with a small shake of his head. “You’re lucky that’s the least of our worries.”

You bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. “Guess we got carried away,” you said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “You’re not mad about it, are you?”

“No,” Jim said, setting his coffee down on the table, looking out on the living room. All the bottles and spills of alcohol. Jim had taken the table, the dishes and the food. But he’d left the rest for you to clean. “But this-“ he said and pointed out to his living room, -“is a good reminder of why we shouldn’t mix alcohol and promises, especially when you’re involved.”

You felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You remembered your drunken persistence in the car, how you’d begged and pleaded until he’d finally relented. You’d promised him peace and quiet once you’d get home, but the moment you’d hit the sheets, you’d been all over him again. And Jim, patient as always, had just refused your advances, gently but firmly reminding you of your agreement.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice softer now. “I know I was a brat last night.”

Jim leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded you with a calm intensity. “It’s not just about being a brat,” he said, his tone measured. “It’s about the promises you make and then conveniently forget the moment you don’t get your way.”

You squirmed under his gaze, the weight of his words sinking in. You’d been selfish, pushing and pushing until he’d finally given in, and even then, you hadn’t stopped. You’d broken your word to him in more ways than one, and now, staring at the stain on the couch, it all felt embarrassingly childish.

“I’ll clean it,” you said, your voice firmer this time. “I’ll clean everything up.”

“I’ll take the rest if manage to remove that stain. Only because I’m the nicest person in the entire world,” Jim said and your face lit up.

“It’s a dare?” You asked.

“If you want it to be,” Jim shrugged.

He leaned back into the couch, not saying a word as you got up to fetch the cleaning supplies. The quiet was heavy between you, each step feeling like a penance for the chaos you’d caused. You returned with a rag and some cleaner, dropping to your knees beside the couch as you started scrubbing at the stain. Jim watched you, his gaze steady and unreadable, but there was no harshness there, no anger—just that quiet, frustrating patience that made you feel even worse.

As you scrubbed, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him, the way his strong hands cradled the coffee mug, the slight flex of his muscles as he shifted in his seat. Even in his calmness, there was a quiet power to him that always drew you in, made you want to push and provoke just to see what it would take to make him snap.

“Are you just going to watch me?” You asked, half-teasing, half-frustrated, the stain seemingly not vanishing at all.

Jim shrugged. “Someone’s gotta make sure you do it right.”

You narrowed your eyes at him but couldn’t keep the smile off your face. He was infuriating in the way only he could be—unflappable, controlled, always a step ahead of you. It made you want to push further, to find that edge where he might finally lose that composure.

You tossed the rag onto the couch and stood up, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m done,” you said defiantly, even though the stain was still faintly there. Jim’s eyes flicked to the cushion, then back to you, one brow arching slightly.

“You call that clean?”

You huffed, stepping closer until you were standing between his legs, your hands on your hips.

“It’s better than it was.”

Jim met your challenge with a steady gaze, unblinking. “But I didn’t ask you to make it better. I asked you to make it go away.”

You sulked and Jim let the silence stretch between you, tension thick in the air. Your heart raced, the proximity to him, the smell of his cologne, the way his eyes bore into yours—it all made you feel that same reckless desire you had last night. But Jim wasn’t giving in; he was making you stew in it, waiting for you to break first.

“Jim…” you said, your voice a low whine, and you shifted, your knee brushing against his thigh. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll be good, I promise.”

Jim’s hand moved, his fingers lightly tracing the skin of your thigh, sending shivers up your spine. But his eyes remained fixed on yours, that same infuriating calm still in place. “Promises, promises,” he murmured, his tone making you squirm.

You bit your lip, your patience snapping. You leaned in, your hands resting on his shoulders as you straddled his lap, pressing your body against his. “Please, Jim,” you whispered, your voice needy, desperate. “I need you.”

Jim’s grip tightened on your thigh, his eyes darkening as he finally let his restraint slip, just a little. “You’ve been nothing but trouble,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Kept me up all night, made promises you couldn’t keep…”

Your breath hitched, your hips grinding down against him, seeking friction. “I’ll keep them now,” you promised, your voice breathless. “Please, Jim, I’ll do anything.”

Jim’s hand moved to your waist, his touch firm as he guided your movements. “You’d better,” he said, his tone a mix of warning and promise. He pulled you closer, his lips hovering just above yours but not quite touching, making you whine in frustration. He brushed his lips against yours softly, teasingly, before pulling back just enough to see the desperation in your eyes.

“Patience, Y/N,” he whispered, his lips ghosting along your jawline as his hands roamed under your shirt, fingers brushing over your bare skin with maddening slowness. Your breath caught, your head falling back as he took his time exploring you, his touch light but deliberate. He pulled your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought as his lips moved down your neck, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses that made you shiver.

You squirmed in his lap, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as your hips rolled against him. You felt him harden beneath you, his cock pressing against you through both of your clothes.

Jim was in no rush. His hands slid up to your breasts, cupping them firmly before pinching your nipples, making you gasp. He smiled against your skin at your reaction, loving the way you responded to his touch.

“Jim, please,” you whimpered, your body aching for more as you ground against him, seeking the friction you desperately needed. But Jim was relentless, his pace slow and controlled, savoring every sound that fell from your lips. His mouth moved lower, kissing a trail down your chest, over the swell of your breasts, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucked lightly, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud, making you cry out and arch into him.

Your hands roamed over his back, nails digging in as your movements grew more frantic, your need for him becoming unbearable. “I need you,” you pleaded, your voice breaking. “Jim, please, I can’t—”

Jim pulled back, his lips slick and swollen from his ministrations, his eyes meeting yours with a heat that sent a jolt of arousal straight through you.

“You really are impatient,” he teased, but the way his breath hitched told you, that he was just as affected as you were.

Jim reached down between you, deftly unbuttoning his jeans, and freed himself from the confines of his clothes. Your eyes widened as you watched, your breath hitching at the sight of him—hard, thick, and ready. You licked your lips, your need for him amplifying as you reached down to stroke him, feeling his length twitch under your touch. Jim groaned, his grip on her hips tightening as your hand worked over him, slow and deliberate, matching the rhythm he’d been teasing you with.

“Enough,” Jim growled, his patience finally snapping. He grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away as he positioned you above him. “You want it? Then take it.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You lifted yourself up, positioning him at your entrance, the anticipation making you shiver.

With one smooth motion, you sank down onto him, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as he filled you completely. The stretch, the fullness, the sheer heat of him inside you—it was overwhelming in the best way, every nerve in your body lighting up with pleasure.

“Fuck, Jim,” you moaned, your head falling back as you took him in to the hilt, your thighs trembling around him. Jim gritted his teeth, his hands gripping your hips as he fought to maintain control, every muscle in his body tensing as he resisted the urge to just flip you over and fuck you senseless.

“Move,” he commanded, his voice strained, the last threads of his composure slipping as you began to roll your hips, your pace slow and torturous. You set a rhythm, rocking back and forth, your movements smooth and fluid as you found your pace. Jim’s eyes darkened as he watched you, the sight of you struggling to cope with the pleasure, the way your body moved with such wanton need, was enough to drive him to the edge.

Your moans filled the room, your hands braced against Jim’s chest as you rode him, your movements growing faster and more erratic as the pleasure built inside you.

Jim met your pace with hard, deliberate thrusts, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you that had you seeing stars. You could feel yourself teetering on the brink, the coil in your stomach tightening with every roll of your hips.

“Right there,” you panted, your nails digging into his chest as you chased your high. “Oh god, right there—don’t stop.”

Jim’s hands roamed over your body, one sliding up your back to fist in your hair, pulling your head back so he could claim your mouth in a bruising kiss. His other hand slipped between you, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles that had you crying out into his mouth. The combined sensations—the fullness of him inside you, the relentless pressure on your clit, the heat of his lips against yours—it was all too much, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Come on,” Jim murmured against your lips, his voice rough and commanding. “Come for me, Y/N.”

That was all it took.

Your body tensed, your back arching as you shattered around him, a broken moan ripping from your throat as you came undone. Your muscles clenched tight around him, your walls fluttering as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you trembling in his arms.

Jim watched as you shattered around him, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm, your moans echoing off the walls.

Your nails raked down his chest, your head thrown back in ecstasy as you rode out every wave of pleasure. But Jim wasn’t done.

As soon as he felt you starting to relax, he moved.

With a swift, decisive motion, Jim flipped you onto your back, spreading your legs wide, whipping one of them over his shoulder as he settled between them. There was no hesitation, no teasing this time. He thrust into you hard, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful stroke that tore a scream from your throat. The sound was raw, unfiltered, and it sent a bolt of pure lust straight through him.

Jim gripped your thigh, fingers digging into your thigh as your leg flexed over his shoulder in reaction to his punishing pace, his thrusts fast, hard, and deep, driving into you with a single-minded focus.

His jaw was clenched, eyes locked onto yours as he took you exactly the way he wanted—relentless and unrestrained. He watched your face contort in pleasure, your mouth open in a continuous stream of moans and cries that spurred him on, each sound you made only pushing him closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Jim!” You gasped, your hand scrabbling for purchase against his upper arm, your nails digging in as you tried to keep up with his brutal pace. You were still sensitive from your orgasm, every thrust sending shocks of overstimulation through you, but you didn’t want him to stop. The sheer force of his movements, the intensity of his gaze—it was too much and yet not enough all at once.

Jim could feel you squeezing around him, your body still responding even after your climax, and it drove him wild. He shifted his angle slightly, driving deeper, harder, each thrust a forceful reminder of how much he needed this.

He was chasing his own release now, every stroke a means to an end, each one rougher than the last. He loved the way you screamed for him, the way your body arched off the couch, your legs trembling as Jim assisted you in lifting your one leg off his shoulder and instead wrapped both your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer.

“Yeah, you like that?” Jim growled, his voice rough and edged with need. He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he pounded into you, relentless and fierce. “Fucking scream for me.”

You did exactly that, your voice breaking as you cried out, your body writhing beneath him. You were lost in the feeling, the way he stretched you, filled you, pushed you right back to the edge of pleasure-pain that you couldn’t get enough of. You clung to him, nails scratching down his back, urging him on as he took you harder, faster, his thrusts shaking the couch beneath them.

Jim’s breathing was ragged, his control slipping as he chased his own climax. He was focused entirely on the way you felt around him, the tight, wet heat of her drawing him deeper, the way your body trembled with every powerful thrust. He could feel himself getting close, his muscles tightening, the need for release building to an unbearable peak.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his rhythm growing more erratic as he lost himself in the sensation. He gripped your hips even tighter, driving into you with a ferocity that left you gasping, every stroke pushing you further and further until you were on the brink again.

Jim’s head fell forward, his hair coming loose from its tie, strands sticking to his sweat-slicked skin. His movements became more desperate, each thrust a plea for release, each one harder and deeper until finally, he felt himself teeter on the edge. With a low, guttural moan, he thrust into you one last time, burying himself as deep as he could go as he came, the pleasure ripping through him like a tidal wave.

He could feel every pulse, every throb of his release as he filled you, his body shuddering with the force of it. You held him close, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your own breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you clung to him, the intensity of his orgasm sending shockwaves through you as well.

You stayed like that for a moment, tangled together, both of you breathing heavily as you came down from your high.

You pulled Jim down to meet your face and he rested his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling, the silence between you comfortable and charged.

Jim’s hands gently stroked your cheek, soothing her as you shivered, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through you.

“Feel better?” Jim asked, his voice softer now, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed breathlessly, your body still trembling from the intensity of it all. “Yeah,” you admitted, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Much better.”

You both sat up and you nestled yourself in Jim’s lap.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he buried his face in your neck, placing a gentle kiss there. “Good,” he murmured.

“But that stain isn’t gone.”

You whipped your head to look at him, your lips formed in a thin line. “I’ll clean the rest. It’s fine.”

You shrugged. You deserved to clean up your mess.

Jim glanced over at the stain, smirking.

“You know,” he said, his voice filled with wry amusement, “I think, I really just need to invest in some better cleaning supplies.”

You grinned, your hand sliding up his chest to cup his jaw, your thumb brushing over the stubble there. “Or,” you suggested, your voice playful, “we just don’t try to keep it clean at all.”

Jim rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face was unmistakable. “Brat,” he muttered, but his tone was filled with affection.

“Always,” you shot back, your smile wide as she leaned in for another kiss, already thinking of how you might push his buttons next time. But for now, you were content to just bask in the aftermath, wrapped up in Jim’s arms, feeling every bit the troublemaker who’d finally, finally gotten your way.

69 notes · View notes