#jimmy is fluffy I LOVE IT

[kawaiitronwastaken]

PONIESSSSSS-

LIFE SERIES PONIES ANYONE??? :3c

OK SO CUTIEMARK MEANINGS!!!

grian- idek i picked apple yall can come up with an element and meaning for his 😭😭

mumbo- innovation! mumbos kinda a mechanical mind, he thinks logically while still being very creative and inspirational! i feel his cutiemark helps represent that

jimmy- joy :3 i feel like jimmy is always the light of the group (ik its mostly just cuz he dies first) but when jimmy dies everything kinda goes crazy, i feel like hes the sun that helps keep everyone else in proper orbit (also it kinda resembles a sherrif badge ehehe)

[finnzcorner]

Drew 5 life series members so far as different hostile mobs! Honestly, I love Tango as a cave spider and Etho as an enderman.

[thetomorrowshow]

response

empires superpowers au masterlist (not up to date)

this takes place about 10 months after the end of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: past abuse, flashbacks, heavy dissociation, blood & injury

~

It’s on the news before it’s anywhere else, which is to say, everyone knows before Jimmy.

Lizzie texts him to ask him if he needs anything, and while it’s an odd message to receive out of the blue, Jimmy doesn’t mind it at all. Lizzie checks in occasionally, particularly after big life events, and it’s just nice to hear from her.

Then Joel texts the same thing, and Jimmy starts to feel that something’s wrong.

He only finds out by chance, though—he turns on the TV and it happens to be on the news, and just before he switches away, he sees the scrolling headline.

MAJOR DISAPPEARS AFTER FIGHT WITH THE ORACLE.

His stomach drops.

The clip starts playing moments later, some newscaster narrating it like a sports game, not like his partner’s life is on the line.

“So here we can see the Oracle grab Major—it’s barely contact, but anything goes with that villain—and then, while Major’s disoriented, he slams him into the ground.”

Jimmy watches, mouth slightly open, as Scott indeed is shoved into the asphalt with enough force to knock a few teeth out. He winces, old injuries twinging in sympathy. It doesn’t stop there, though—as Scott is grabbing at the Oracle’s legs, doing anything to pull himself back up, he goes suddenly limp, and the Oracle lands a terrible hit to Scott’s nose, sending blood spurting everywhere.

The Oracle grasps Scott by the hair, then, Scott’s arms flailing out, and slams his head into the road. Jimmy gasps, reaches out as if he can grab Scott through the screen. This is bad. Scott hasn’t had such a bad fight since Xornoth. The Oracle must be getting more powerful, or gotten more training recently or something, because last Jimmy knew he was a local menace, not actually a danger.

Jimmy almost can’t watch. His hands are up at his mouth, and he can’t tear his eyes from the screen as Scott stops trying to fight back and just tries to crawl away. He almost makes it—the Oracle grabs him by the cape, pulls him back as his fingers scrabble for purchase.

The Oracle drags him up, has him in a chokehold—it’s the perfect position to just kill him, he’s already too weak to do much and the Oracle could easily slip a knife from the folds of his clothing and slash Scott’s throat, but he doesn’t. He just holds him as Scott struggles, whacking at his grip with steadily clumsier arms. Scott stops moving after a moment, and Jimmy’s moving forward, toward the TV, he has to help—

Scott’s only gathering strength though, and moments later he manages to buck backward and throw the Oracle’s arms from around his neck. With a spray of ice on the road, Scott collapses and penguin slides down the hill and past the news van, throwing up a curved wall of ice to make a sharp turn to the right. He disappears from view entirely, and when the camera turns back to the Oracle, he’s gone.

It’s barely a minute-long clip, but it leaves Jimmy breathless in the worst way possible. He needs to find Scott, he needs to help him—he’s opening the front door before he even puts his mask on, only in socks and his gym clothes, he’s got to find him—

His phone buzzes, and without even thinking he answers, everything in him tensing at the thought that it could be Scott, it has to be Scott—

“Jimmy, where are you right now?”

Lizzie. His heart utterly sinks. “I’m—do you know where he is? I’m going out to find him—”

“Are you at home?”

“Yeah, yes, but I’m leaving—”

“Do not leave,” she tells him sternly. For the first time, Jimmy registers feedback from her end—as if she’s outside on a windy day, or standing on the pier. “Stay at home.”

“I have to find him,” says Jimmy, and he needs to grab his key—where is his key, it’s usually right on the hook by the door—

“Joel and I are sweeping the city, all right? You need to stay home.”

“I’m not scared,” Jimmy retorts. “I can fight, I will fight, I’ll kill the Oracle if I have to—”

“Jimmy.”

He stops, reluctantly, at her tone.

“You need to stay home right now, because if Scott is his usual stubborn self and doesn’t check himself into a hospital, he’s going to come to you,” she explains. “Now I need you to listen to me, all right?”

He sighs. He’s still burning with a need to get out there, find Scott, but she’s right. Unfortunately. He slams the front door shut, sighs even louder. “Yeah, fine. What is it.”

“Get towels you don’t care about,” she instructs. “I know you have a pack of rubber gloves somewhere, so get those and your first aid kit. Disinfect wherever you’re going to help him—I’d think the dining room table, but it’s your choice. Got all that?”

Jimmy’s already halfway to the closet for the first aid kit, grabbing some bleach-stained hand towels from the bathroom on the way. “Yeah. What else?”

“We’re most worried about a concussion here, so he might be confused—especially after fighting the Oracle. Help him know he’s safe and cared for. Maybe get something he’s familiar with to have near, to ground him?”

“Treat it like a flashback, got it.” Jimmy sets the first aid kit down on the table, runs back to their bedroom. He and Scott had gone on a Build-A-Bear date recently, and Scott had gotten the Frozen’s Elsa bear. That should do for grounding, hopefully.

He brings the bear (and after a thought, his own, a brown bear with roller skates) back to the dining room, then cracks open the rubbing alcohol from the first aid kit and starts rubbing down the table and one of the chairs.

“Take care of him, all right?” Lizzie says, sounding almost far away. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you with more updates. Text me if he shows up.”

Before he can even say goodbye, she hangs up.

Great. He just has to deal with this situation alone, then. Scott’s never been that badly injured since Jimmy’s been dating him—sure, there was the broken arm incident, but Scott had still won that fight. He’s never been so badly injured that he had to flee.

What if he doesn’t remember how to get home? It’s not like he’s lived here his whole life, it’s entirely possible that he gets lost on the way back. Jimmy needs to go looking for him, has to be out there to help—

From the office comes the sound of a window sliding open.

Jimmy drops the rag he’d been using to wipe down the table and sprints for the office.

Sure enough, Scott is there, one leg in the window, and looking absolutely awful.

He looks worse than he had on TV. The collar of his costume is drenched in blood, most of which seems to be stemming from his nose but there’s blood in his bright blue hair and dripping from his mouth and all over—

Blood, there’s so much blood and Jimmy’s not sure if its his own or his opponent’s but as he stares at it he feels nothing, nothing but hope that his master will reward him for being so good—

Scott grunts and Jimmy’s back in the present, but his feelings of detachment remain. He crosses the office to the window and wraps an arm under Scott’s armpit to pull him the rest of the way in (Scott cries out, but Jimmy ignores it), then puts his other arm at his knees and fully lifts his boyfriend up.

Scott’s almost too heavy to carry—sure, Jimmy’s been working out, but the deadweight of a muscular, six foot human isn’t anything that he’s used to. So he gathers all of his strength and hurries down the hallway before his arms can give out, carrying Scott to the dining room and settling him in the chair he’s prepared before cracking open the first aid kit.

Jimmy strips off his mask first, grimacing at the bruises already beginning to ring his eyes. Luckily, Jimmy’s set quite a few broken noses in his time, and he mutters a warning before jerking it back into place. Scott lets out another cry, muffled by Jimmy shoving a wad of cotton under his nose.

He holds it there for a few moments while he categorizes the other wounds. The head wound is probably most important—or rather, most dangerous. There’s scrapes and bruises in various places all over his body, visible through the tears in his costume. Red stains his lips, so Jimmy pries his mouth open—yep, missing tooth and bitten tongue. He knows Scott’s already got an implanted molar, but this is one of his front teeth, leaving a gaping hole in his mouth. That’s going to need some cosmetic surgery.

It’s not really a huge concern at the moment, though, so Jimmy moves on, rolling down the neck of Scott’s costume.

Sure enough, bruises are already blossoming around his throat. That’s not something Jimmy can take care of himself—he needs an x-ray to make sure nothing’s broken, probably. In fact, it would be better just to take Scott to the hospital right now.

One last thing to check—across the room, on the hook where he usually leaves it, is his key, a pocket flashlight attached to the key ring. Jimmy retrieves it, shines it in Scott’s eyes.

His pupils don’t dilate smoothly, and the left eye is slower than the right. That’s never good.

“Are you feeling disoriented?”

Scott blinks. “. . . yeah,” he rasps. Jimmy hands him his glass of water, gives him a napkin when he chokes on it.

“We’re going to the hospital,” he announces, clicking off the flashlight. “Put your mask back on, I’ll carry you to the car.”

Scott complies, hands moving slowly and shakily. “I—Jimmy?” he asks, voice small.

“Yeah?”

Scott sniffles. “I don’t feel well.” “That’s why we’re going to the hospital,” Jimmy tells him, voice utterly lacking emotion. He doesn’t feel much of anything, right now. “Do you want to bring anything?”

Scott looks around, blinking slowly. He points to the Elsa bear on the table. Jimmy nods, glances around for a moment before finding a reusable plastic grocery bag and stuffing the bear in it.

“You’ll have to leave it in the car, but that’s fine. Let’s go.”

Scott is, for the most part, complacent as Jimmy picks him up, wrapping his arm around Jimmy’s neck. Jimmy carries him out of the house and into the backseat of the car as quickly as possible, then ducks back inside to look for Scott’s thin work wallet, eventually finding it just outside the office window. He grabs it—it identifies Scott as Major, has his SuperInsurance card, and other necessary cards—then heads back out to the car, swinging into the driver’s seat and snapping a mask over his face. He tosses the bag with the bear in the backseat with Scott, then pulls out of the driveway.

The hands on the steering wheel don’t look like his, and it takes until Jimmy clicks on the turn signal at a stoplight to realize that he’s dissociated. In fact, he thinks he’s been out of it since he helped Scott inside. Come to think of it, he doesn’t remember doing anything to comfort Scott, calm instincts taking over to keep him from panicking.

A glance in his rearview mirror shows that Scott barely looks conscious. “Don’t fall asleep,” Jimmy snaps, and Scott jolts up, gasping, one hand clutching at his other arm. His other arm that looks mysteriously swollen, held carefully close to Scott’s body.

How had he focused so hard on the head wound that he hadn’t even noticed an injured arm? It’s clearly hurting Scott, and he had done nothing—

“Stay awake, okay? Talk to me. What are you feeling?”

“My arm hurts,” Scott manages. “I think—Jimmy, I think it’s broken again. I don’t—where are we going?”

“The hospital. Just hang tight, we’ll be there soon.”

They won’t be there soon. They’re still at least twenty minutes away. Scott had actually been closer to the hospital before he’d headed home, so he could’ve saved them both some time and gone straight there.

The hands that are definitely his but don’t look it tighten on the wheel. None of that matters right now. Right now he just needs to get Scott to somewhere for treatment.

It’s a tense drive, but Jimmy manages to stay levelheaded. He knows he’s speeding, so every cop car he passes he sends a burst of power out toward, hoping whatever accident it causes won’t be very dangerous.

He sees the signs for the hospital and cuts across three lanes of traffic to get into it. Once there, he pulls into a parking spot and looks up.

At the hospital.

The dissociation hits full-force.

It’s not the hospital, not the one where he was taken right after, but it’s still a hospital. It’s still tied to needles and blood and long hours on an exam table and distress and pain, and just looking at it makes his head all woozy.

His head presses against something hard. His hands go slack. He’s not sure where he is. He’s not sure what’s real.

It’s easier to believe that he’s asleep, easier to accept that none of this is real. He doesn’t even know what he doesn’t want to be real.

He’s not sure how long he floats there, feeling nothing but anxiety about how he’s feeling nothing. He doesn’t even register that there’s any sort of outside stimulation until he hears words, tinny and staticky.

“Jimmy? Hey, Jim, what’s happening? Talk to me.”

“I don’t know,” he thinks he says. “What’s happening?”

A sigh. “Scott says you just sort of zoned out. Do you know why?”

He’s not sure how to answer, so he doesn’t.

“Do you know where you are?”

“No,” he admits, because he doesn’t. He has no clue where he is or how he got here, and now that he’s realized that, the anxiety develops into panic.

“Look around, Jim. Tell me five things you can see.”

Five things—that’s a grounding exercise. Jimmy knows that’s a grounding exercise. He glances around. “There’s a steering wheel. Radio. A seat. I’m in the car.” It hits him like a train, the understanding that he was driving, and he can’t remember that he was driving, and he can’t remember why he was driving, but he’s in the car behind the steering wheel. “Um, asphalt. Parking lines.”

“Cool, four things you can touch?”

The hands in front of him don’t exactly look like his own. One of them lays itself on the steering wheel, and he’s not sure if it’s by his own instruction or not.

He’s sitting in the car, though, so he can assume some certain things. “The seat. The armrest. Um.”

“That’s good. Anything else?”

The voice sounds rushed. Jimmy cringes. He can’t really feel much, other than the awareness that a thing is touching him. Another sigh.

“Right, hand the phone back to Scott, okay? Scott, where are you?”

Is he holding something? He’s holding a phone, and that’s where the voice is coming from. Jimmy stares at it, not quite sure what he can do with it. “Hand it back to Scott,” he echoes.

“Jim’s really out of it, Scott, so can you just look out the window and tell us which hospital it is? Then Lizzie and I’ll be over.”

“It’s . . . United. You guys are coming here?”

“Yeah, well, it sounds like you two are being a bit dysfunctional right now. I’ll escort you and Lizzie’ll stay with Jimmy, and that way all bases are covered. Sound good?”

“I guess?”

It’s warm, Jimmy thinks. Like he’s lying next to a heater. At least it’s feeling something. He feels so detached, so out of his body, that he’s not sure of anything anymore.

He doesn’t hear any more speaking, and he’s not sure if that’s good or not. He just sort of . . . exists, less-than-present but not nonexistent.

At least, until there’s someone grabbing his arm.

He’s not exactly snapped back into his body, but he can see it now—someone heaving him out of the car, someone with pink hair, wrapping an arm around him and walking him to the other side of the car. It feels like he’s observing from above, knowing that it’s his body being moved but feeling no real attachment to it.

It all becomes foggy again as he’s set down in the passenger seat, but he manages to register something clicking and then the car moving. He doesn’t know how long the car moves, but at some point, there’s someone talking to him.

“Scott’s all right, you’re all right, everything is fine. Jimmy, are you with me?”

He tries to nod. He’s not sure if he does it properly.

“No, you’re not. Can you hold this?”

Something’s put in his hand. He doesn’t know what it is.

“Smell that, all right?”

He lifts it up to his nose. It smells sharp, citrus-y.

“What’s that smell like?”

“Oranges,” he answers dutifully.

“Keep your hand up, keep smelling it. Can you describe it?”

He sniffs it again. “Nice,” he eventually says. “Clean. Oranges, and lemons.”

“What does an orange taste like?”

He puts the thing in his mouth.

“No—! No, Jimmy, don’t eat that! That’s—that’s an air freshener, it’s not an orange! Please take it out of your mouth!”

It’s bitter, he thinks, as he obeys. Not like how oranges usually taste. Oranges usually taste sweet, a bit sour, and have all those stringy bits that you have to get off otherwise eating the segments aren’t worth it. It’s one of his favorite tastes, though; the fridge always has orange juice in it and there’s usually oranges on the table. Not just because they taste good, but because they’re decent tools for grounding. The peel has a strong smell and texture, and when you’re done peeling you can taste it.

This isn’t an orange. But it feels suspiciously like a grounding exercise. Why would he be doing grounding?

He blinks, looks up at Lizzie. She’s here. He doesn’t remember her getting here. “Am I dissociating?” he asks.

She laughs a little. “Yeah, I think you might be. Can you smell the air freshener again?”

It’s wet with his own saliva in his hand, but he raises it to his nose anyway. “I’m smelling the air freshener.”

“Good job. Don’t eat it.”

“Don’t eat the air freshener.”

“Smell it.”

“Smell it.”

“Yes.”

“It smells like orange.”

“Mhm.”

Jimmy closes his eyes and breathes in deep. It smells like orange, but not quite. More bitter than an actual orange. Like the way it tasted bitter. “Did I put an air freshener in my mouth?”

Lizzie laughs again. “You very much did. Are you back?”

“No,” he tells her, then goes back to smelling. He can smell something else on his hands, something just as familiar as an orange. Something clean, yet bad. Something that hurts.

“Jimmy, you’re crying. Can you keep smelling the air freshener? Lift your hand back up. What’s it smell like?”

He smells it. “Orange.”

“That’s right. Do you like it?”

“Do I like it.”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

Jimmy likes oranges, so it only makes sense for him to like this scent, right? But in the same way it tastes bad, he’s not sure that the smell of it can hold a candle to real oranges.

“I don’t know,” he says slowly.

“All right. What do you know?”

He sniffs the air freshener. “It smells like oranges. I’m holding it. It tastes bad. You’re here.”

“I’m here,” agrees Lizzie. “Do you want me to hold your hand?”

Jimmy frowns. “Holding the air freshener.”

“You have two hands.”

Oh. Right. He extends his other hand, Lizzie taking it in hers. Her hands are cool, but not nearly as cool as Scott’s. Her nails are pointy, brushing against his skin. The skin. Of the hand. It doesn’t look like his.

“I’m dissociating real bad, I think,” he murmurs. Lizzie’s hand grips his tighter.

“That’s all right. I’m here until you feel better.”

It’s a long time until Jimmy feels more like himself. When he fully becomes aware again, he’s sitting on his couch next to Lizzie, sharing some leftover pasta between them. He blinks at it, vaguely remembering the process it had taken to get him to eat it at all.

“I’m back, I think,” he says, blinking a couple of times. He licks his lips, tastes the pasta sauce there. 

“Oh, thank goodness,” Lizzie sighs in relief. “I was just going to try getting you to nap next, I was completely out of ideas.”

Jimmy laughs a little, thoughts still somewhat out of order from all the fog settled around his brain. “Norman usually helps. Did you get him?”

“Check your feet.”

He looks down. Sure enough, Norman is curled up on his feet, purring loudly.

Jimmy doesn’t remember much from the past—however long it’s been. He has bits and pieces of the drive home from the hospital, but he has no idea when Lizzie turned up or what happened to Scott.

Scott.

He jolts up, almost knocking his plate of pasta to the floor. “Scott,” he gasps out, “is he—did—”

“Scott’s fine,” Lizzie says placatingly, gesturing for him to relax. “Joel just texted me a few minutes ago. He got some stitches and they just finished his scans, they’re waiting on the results. They got him on some pretty good pain meds, I heard, so he’s doing fine.”

Reluctantly, Jimmy sits back, wringing his hands. Sure, Lizzie can tell him that Scott’s fine. But he hasn’t seen that, he doesn’t know for sure, all he knows is that he barely did anything to treat Scott’s wounds and then couldn’t even walk him into the hospital.

His head hurts.

“We can call him, maybe?” suggests Lizzie. Jimmy nods after a moment. That might help.

He sits in silence as she fiddles with her phone, doing who knows what. Every second that passes is another second that Jimmy doesn’t know how Scott’s doing.

Then Lizzie’s phone rings.

She answers, grimaces at the screen, then hands it over to Jimmy.

It’s a video call, and Scott’s there. His nose is properly bandaged, now, and Jimmy can see through the eyeholes in his mask that his eyes are puffy and bloodshot. There’s a large bandage along his jawline, and his split lip is actively bleeding. The ring of bruises around his throat is stark against the hospital gown.

He looks absolutely beautiful.

“Jimmy!” Scott cries, delighted, then sheepishly ducks his head when Joel shushes him offscreen. “Joel—sorry, the King says I can’t say your name.”

Jimmy chuckles, nerves quieting as he gazes at Scott. “That’s fine, Major. How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” Scott admits. He shrugs. “My head hurts, but they put some good drugs in my arm and I can’t really feel it so that’s good!” He tips the screen to show an IV. Jimmy shudders and looks away.

When he looks back, Scott’s turned it back to his face, concern written all over it. “Are you okay? You were . . . uh, what’s the word. . . .”

“Dissociating,” Jimmy finishes.

“Yeah. That. Lizzie said it got really bad, but when we got to United, you just sorta . . . blanked out.”

Jimmy bites back a retort. He doesn’t actually want to be mean to Scott, especially not when he’s floating on pain drugs. He’s just exhausted and foggy from the dissociation. “I’m good, just worried about you. And maybe don’t say real names, yeah?”

“Oh. Right. Joel, how much longer?”

A sigh from offscreen. “Probably half an hour, maybe more. Done talking to your man?”

“J—the King wants his phone back,” Scott whispers. “Are you really okay? Do you need a nap?”

Jimmy can’t help but laugh. “I’ll go rest if you rest, yeah? Love you, keep annoying the Mad King.”

“I love you so much,” Scott says seriously. “I wanna kiss you right now, but I don’t wish you were here because that would be bad for you. So I can wait until we go home.”

Suddenly choked up, Jimmy manages a wave, which Scott sets the phone down to return. Then Jimmy passes it back to Lizzie, who exchanges a few words with Joel before hanging up.

Jimmy doesn’t go to bed. He curls up on the couch and turns on some episode of a 90s sitcom to watch in silence.

“You didn’t fail him,” Lizzie says during a commercial. “You did good.”

Jimmy sighs. “Lizzie, I was dissociating before I even helped him into the house. I didn’t call you, I didn’t actually do anything to help him, and I couldn’t even go into the hospital with him. I freaked out and couldn’t help when he needed me.”

“You fought a trauma response to assess your boyfriend’s injuries and were able to drive him to the hospital,” Lizzie counters. “You set his broken nose and kept your head, despite having triggers all around you. Not to mention, driving him to the hospital was probably the best choice you could’ve made—I don’t have a car, and Joel was halfway across the city. There was no way we could get him to help. You did everything you could.”

Jimmy doesn’t argue. He’s too tired. He just turns his attention back to the TV as the commercial break ends.

When Joel helps Scott in the house several hours later, Lizzie’s made pancakes for them all, and Jimmy’s set out plates and spreads. Scott eats a single pancake, eyelids heavy, before limping off for bed. Jimmy follows him, rearranges the pillows so that Scott’s newly-casted arm can be elevated.

“You’re gonna be here a while, mister,” Jimmy tells him, handing him an ice pack. “Doctor’s orders. A week of bed rest, all for you.”

“At least I can give you kisses,” Scott slurs, smiling the best he can with a split lip and swollen mouth. Jimmy giggles, stripping off his shirt and climbing into bed next to him.

“I think even kisses are gonna hurt, baby. It’s okay, though. You’ll be okay.”

Scott nods sleepily, eyes already closed. “Yeah. We both will be.”

[catzgam3rz]

*Crawls out of Artblock hole* TAKE SOME WORK IN PROGRESS BAD BOYS FOR YOUR DAY

[mcyt-parodies]

Crossing the Line - Mandy Moore for Flower Husbands. It screams them during Limited Life where Jimmy doesn't say "I love you" back to Scott

Thank you, thank you, thank you for the suggestion! This one turned out incredible (in my opinion at least)! It’s so perfect for them. So y’all remember how I said Smallidarity was my number two? Yeah that’s because Flower Husbands is NUMBER ONE! They are absolutely everything to me, I could go on and on and on about these idiots, and maybe I will someday. But for now, here is a… not so lovely Flower Husbands parody:

Crossing The Line: Limited Life, Flower Husbands

[Scott]

This has to stop now

Whatever it is that you're going through

We'll fix it together, me and you

Just like we used to

[Jimmy]

No! This has to stop now

This thing where you think that you've been my husband

And don't even hear how you condescend

The way you've always done

[Scott and (Jimmy)]

Jimmy, listen (I'm listening)

I know it isn't true (Isn't it?)

Just look into my eyes now (Well?)

I know you feel it too (Perhaps I do)

Jimmy, listen (I'm listening)

I swear it's not too late

So before another line gets crossed

And everything we've had is lost

Just... say you love me too?

[Jimmy]

Love?

No, I won't say it

[Scott]

(spoken)

Petal!

[Jimmy]

(sung)

There's a line between the winners and the losers

There's a line between the chosen and the canary

And I've done the best I could

But I've always known just where we stood

Me here as the luckless

You there as the blessed

And that line between the players and the hunted

Is a line you've never let me quite ignore

How I've tried to jump that great divide

But I've never even gotten the chance

You don't know how much I've been denied

Well, I'm not being patient anymore

I'm crossing the line!

And I'm done holding back

So look out, clear the track

It's my turn!

I'm taking what's mine!

Every drop, every smidge

If I'm burning a bridge

Let it burn

But I'm crossing the line!

And for us, if we're over

That's fine

[Jimmy]

(sung)

I'm crossing the line

[Scott]

(spoken)

Jimmy! Say it back!

[Jimmy]

(spoken)

30 seconds.

[redlenai]

So I failed miserably and succumbed to the fluff

Say hi to the Jimerek baby. His name is Asher Zare, he was born in space. He loves to sleep, and is a velcro baby.

This is not part of my main AU, you can call it "Happy Au",, after all, Asher means Happy/Blessing. He is a perfectly healthy baby boy, a bit lazy to even crawl, he cries when unca Gant brings that pony plushie with him.

Jimmy is a stay at home dad while Derek works, so he is used to his father all the time and cries a lot if he can't see him.

When Dee found out he was pregnant, he knew Jimmy wouldn't want anything to do with the baby, so he gave him an out, tho Jimmy ended up understanding something entirely different, like Derek was calling him useless and was abandoning him after getting what he wanted, tho Derek didn't plan for the baby, it was completely accidental.

They fought literally through the whole pregnancy, mostly due to misscomunication, Jimmy projecting on Derek, and Derek just being his dramatic self pre his obsession with Jimmy. Thankfully, things worked out when Asher was born, clearly everyone lost a marble that day and had to endure until they returned to Earth.

They are living on Dee's house, Jimmy went no contact with his mother, while Derek's come to visit whenever they can and help around, even if they didn't accept Jim at first.

Daisuke and Curly are Asher's uncles, Anya is Asher's doctor and is surprised the baby is actually growing fine despite his parents's personalities, tho they too seem to be healthier and better overall.

Swansea is like day and night, seems that the older you get the grumpier he gets with you. He spoils Asher lots

[elodee]

Oh wow h̸é̶̴̲ l̸̩͒o̵̤̓͐ó̷̰͘k̸͉͙̏s̷̩̳͒̕ g̴͓̬͇̿̾̐̅̋r̷͎̣̭̼͔͂̂e̴̖̗̦͆̒̑̐a̷̜͓̬̫̼̱͒̏͆̅̓t̸̰̱̱̳̪̮̅̀̈́̓͘!

Hermit a da- wait- wait who's this what's going on- he's NOT supposed t-

[clover-doodles]

MY SECRET LIFE DESIGNS

But reference chibis + headcannons

[ row by row ]

[ individuals + headcannons ]

Lizzie

- fairy

Cleo

- zombie

Gem

- deer / fawn

Pearl

- moth + avian

- no moth or bird in particular

Scar

- fae / vex + moth

- a fluffy moth

- scars change depending on the series

Grian

- watcher + avian

- glasses are there sometimes

- starling based

- wing theme changes very depending on the series

Mumbo

- vampire + moth

- no moth in particular

Etho

- arctic fox

Joel

- fae + whatever his season theme is

Martyn

- fae + elf ( idk) + whatever his season theme is

Scott

-  butterfly

- or whatever his season theme is

Jimmy

- avian

- canary based

Tango

- blazeborn

Impulse

- imp

Skizz

- angel

BigB

- rabbit

- whatever his season theme is

Bdubs

- a mossy dude

——————————————————————————————————

This is a continuation of

This Post

——————————————————————————————————

I finally finished them all ( yippe )

character design is hard especially on chibis because you have to make them least cluttered as possible ( I don’t think I did a good job on that part but who cares)

will these be hell to animate ( yes ) but I don’t care I love them anyway

( I maybe might make a commentary video about my process but that probably won’t be for a bit )

[1296-very-good-year]

Realized I don't ever post my kids and this must be corrected now

[shinigamigloss]

mission accomplished

✎ Leon's a certified manwhore, really. You know that, but you can be worse than him. So what's the most that can happen in a hotel room with a reputedly flirtatious womanizer like Leon after an onerous mission? ID LEON SUPREMACY.

cw: getting it in a hotel room, cunnilingus, d in p aka mating press yay, creampie, size kink size kink size kink, protection? forgotten. fem! reader, he's just silly therefore beware of the corny lines, biting, MDNI

“You wanna get dinner when this is all over?”

You couldn’t say if it was worth nipping in the bud at that juncture, but this whole little odyssey with Leon definitely started with that very query. It wasn’t a figure of speech – you really had him down on his knees in a random hotel room.

The lavender air of the hotel room, the gunpowder-like whiff, and the notes of Old Spice emanating from the tender curve of Leon’s neck still wreak havoc on your brain after your shared kisses. Your legs buckle, and you’re in sackcloth and ashes, all thanks to wearing those mean machines – your Jimmy Choos. But you feel sexy within his reach, and you adore the vamp of your stilettos – the panorama of him sinking between your legs as he nudges you down onto the edge of the mattress.

“Panties off, pretty.” His singsong cadence is cajoling, of course; you get the gist of it.

“Demanding, are we?” You rebut, pixilated and all mawkish. Lifting your hips only slightly, you hitch up your legs and pull down the panties that have been eclipsing your love-starved pussy for hours, and with a sloppy thud, the only piece separating Leon from your lovely cunt thumps onto the linoleum floor.

“Well, now you know why I said nay to dessert at dinner.”

Such corny, coquettish platitudes only serve to draw a slumberish smile to your lips. You have no idea how men with such beautiful faces can be saddled with a palate full of sophomoric slapstick. But a dick is a dick, and something tells you that Leon won’t leave you empty-handed.

“Fuck...” You tilt your head, tracing a moony arc, and your chin is high, all the while splaying your hands over the fluffy, freshly laundered sheets.

How you got here – and how he’s now lost in the slick heat of your pussy – is a great mystery. (Well, not really. It’s a story about two horny agents renting a hotel room on the condition that they make it safely back from their mission in China) Still, you love the tender lips pressed against the plush, juicy slit.

Leon wouldn’t leave without a taste, even though the foreplay feels superfluous. After all, skipping foreplay is a felony. It’s a rule – no exceptions: a manwhore has to know how to eat his partner out. This is precisely why Leon Kennedy is notorious in the D.S.O. and the dominatrix scene – a beloved whore through and through.

So he puts you in his mouth and eats you ‘til his teeth rot.

He loves it when you pull his hair (such a slut!); he even sometimes honors you with groans that sizzle your ears pleasantly. Right now, Leon’s priority is to gorge on you and perhaps make you cum more than once during the course of the night. But what about himself? His pleasure?

Of course, by the time he pulls down the indigo jeans he’s wearing, he will already be drenched in thick globs of precum.

He has a couple of minutes to reflect on that issue, but in those enchanted split seconds, all he does is lap at the dripping amrita from your hole, flowing for his benefit.

“Too fucking sweet.”

His mouth, which has been yapping non-stop since he was assigned to the assignment alongside you, is apparently very well trained at the eating-pussy phenomenon, and he can’t help himself, clawing at your thighs and pulling you into his mouth; you’re half too thunderstruck to even buck your hips closer.

His tongue is sugar-coated, even more delish as he drifts on and on over your pussy – maybe even romantic. No matter how many times he says he’s a typical man for your average overnight, the lies are unfolded, and he gets all the more addicted.

“Leon. I’m–’m fuck.”

You’re so out of it that you’re babbling whatever pops into your head and out of your mouth. Insidious blues lock on you when you push your eyes open, expecting to see that he’s got it – that you’ve grasped the notion of his generosity. Of course, he has to make it all about himself.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” comes between each of his licks, and you can’t muster the strength to even hold your own fucking head. His mouth heats up a beatific pulsation within you when he rises up to your face and puts his business on your lips. Kissing on a first date (if fucking can be excused as a reason for a first date?) is idiotically discouraged, but this man isn’t going to listen to such absurd dictates when he’s drunk on your essence.

And you’re more than up for it, so you sweetly reciprocate his kisses.

Thwip, thwip.

It grates on your ears, and you know what it is. Leon hastily tugs at his belt, wary of missing a second. Free yet? Ha – it’s not in the cards. His boxer briefs are still in the way for both of you.

“I wish men wore panties too,” you bitch up, purpling your pouting lip. Leon freezes mid-motion. Is he processing the absurdity of your words, or just too high on scotch and pussy to simply respond?

Or are you already the pot calling the kettle black?

The possibility of the former, however, is an assumption fraught with misconception when you pull down Leon’s boxers – because he’s already in the same boat, but with a hole in it. If the room had been bathed in those bludgeoning fluorescents instead of the hazy dim lights, you would have seen that his boxers were more profusely soaked than your panties. Viva the dim lights... or the fact that you don’t even care how wet he is.

“What?”

The anticipatory look he gives you can only signal that he would like you to soar onto the bed.

“Legs up, roll over.”

“Nope. Missionary is for sore losers,” you mumble it in a faux, patronizing tone. You’re a fucking liar.

As nice as it sounds to track his face in missionary and stab your fingernails on his back – despite the fact that you broke two of them in the line of duty – you want to ride him more than anything else.

“Losers, huh?”

Leon effortlessly grabs your wrists and stamps you onto the bed. “Sleep with losers, and you’re as good as a loser, gorgeous. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, yeah?”

Your head, sunken into the pillow, floats slowly on lint clouds. Watching him from below is like setting foot for the first time on an unearthed planet made of exploded blues. Fuck. You’re so high, he’s turned you into a slam poet.

He hoists each of your calves and hooks your legs over the frame of his shoulders, leaving your pussy bared – and the December cold seeping in makes your insides flutter. If it weren’t for his pelvis pressing against you at the corner of the bed, you could very well trip on your ass and break a pretty serious bone.

“Keep your legs like this.” He prelects you, very laconic.

You feel so giddy as the raw head of his cock, which he rubs in the palm of his hand, slithers and softens at your entrance as he works himself in with assiduous thrusts.

“Tight as hell,” you hear him croak, but you aren’t quite in the zone enough to pay it any mind. Your bleary eyelids are only half-lidded – if at all – not fully opaque, allowing you to catch a glimpse of him over the nebula-like blurs over his visage beneath your batting eyelashes.

“Shit, baby, you can’t even take the fucking tip.” Leon’s whispers are eulogies to the lovely cunt he first got drunk on the tang of and will now drool over for its tightness. He gives a roll of his hips but never what you so desperately need – he harrows you so blatantly.

You barely lift your hips, humble and tentative, to meet his impish prodding – but his splayed hand on your ribcage forbids you from venturing further, from fucking yourself on his cock any deeper. The loss of levity on your face, the line of your eyebrows knitted in frustration, is absolutely delicious to behold for a cheeky asshole like Leon.

“Stop trying to fuck yourself and use your words, would you?”

For no apparent reason, his voice haunts you.

“Come on, girl. Get it out.” Leon whispers again, layering all the clouds of discord in your head one by one. Those humiliating clouds of thought poof, pan, flake, and evaporate from your slightly ajar lips in a single cry.

“Leon. Please. Gulp. Please! Fuck me.”

Ouch. These words will always conjure visions of shooting yourself with your own gun once the alcohol drains from your veins in the morning – especially after these foul entreaties.

This chain of events – in which Leon has pulled a rabbit out of the hat on a night already in his favor – is capped off with your fuck-me-please beggary. (Propaganda even.)

“You got it, beautiful.” He nuzzles you – metaphorically speaking – with a cloying coo, albeit while ardently clenching your hips. The purple shadows that will mark your skin for weeks are right in his wheelhouse.

The normal you would go like, “Oh no, I can’t be such a slut overnight – and for a man? Humor me, bitch.” You’d be taking the mickey out of yourself.

Leon, however, is just divine. He’s inside you, and he’s hard – a diamond in the rough.

The kisses you share are sporadic, wet, and perhaps absurdly romantic for such a ’trivial’ night. In Leon’s mind, the blinking light bulb is a blaring alarm; the realization that something this good is manipulating a distorted reality hits him in the seconds when he’s already hammering away at your cervix – but without violence.

“Fuck.” The kiss breaks abruptly, like a tape rewinding inside both your heads.

“The condoms.” The thought hits Leon square in the head – but what’s the big deal? Your legs are up in the air (bless the yoga gods), just like that scene of the chick in heels getting knocked up by Patrick Bateman. But now, the guy twitching inside you is preaching condom.

“Leon.”

You’re on the last rung, and his lips are a saliva-laden mess, melded with the cherry tinge of your lipstick. You really should’ve dabbed it off or something, yet he looks stupidly delicious.

He blinks at you, owing it to you to correct his mistake immediately – filling you to the hilt with a lingering, deep-seated thrust.

“Leon!”

Your cry strikes him rapt, and he savors that familiar, sinful tightness around him. So needy – he relishes the feel of you squeezing his cock.

You sharply suck in a breath at the touch of his teeth as he bites a bruise into the delicate flesh beneath your throat, where you smell deliciously dulcet. He’s drunk on you – drunk on the saccharine moans and whimpers spilling from your lips – and, to be honest, he’s been dreaming about this the whole time.

Men grow wiser as they age, but as Leon got older, he indulged in one-night stands, devoting himself to pretty, pretty women making love to him.

It’s bitter that you’re one of those women, yet you still want him to use you – use you so badly, so carelessly.

You don’t know how much longer your fuck-drunk head can keep up, but he knows all too well that you’re close. He pulls back slightly, releasing your ankles and reaching between your legs with his gun-wielding hand to work his thumb over your clit. You’re so desperate for his affection, and tonight, he feels too lavish not to deprive you of that dazzling bliss.

Your moans echo through the hotel room – high-pitched, frantic – the overstimulation nearly unbearable.

“It’s okay, let yourself go. Cum for me, pretty.” Leon’s gruff sighs ebb and flow as he brings you back from the abyss. His pace slows – then, so randomly, he brushes a languid thrust against that spongy spot inside you.

And you listen dully, your eyes nearly rolling out of their sockets – but you give him what he wants.

Everything is hectic, wet, extravagant – and that’s exactly why he keeps going. Forehead to forehead, you both wind up panting, but Leon still gets an A+ for looking good while he fucks you. Your glazed eyes stay locked on the night-blue shades of his pupils in the darkness. You both know what that gaze signifies.

Before you can say a word, Leon pulls his cock out of your slick, dripping pussy with the most obscenely wet sound.

Something inside you frantically pleads for him to stay inside you – what a loss. But Leon takes your hand in his. He still needs you.

“You’ve got this. Go on. Make me cum.”  

Give his cock three – maybe five – sloppy strokes, and he cums on your stomach. Easy.

You slide your legs down – there’s no way you can hold them up any longer – and he groans when you let go of his softening cock from memory, as if discarding an object no longer of use to you. Your legs dangle over the edge of the bed, and Leon closes his eyes – if only fleetingly – to soak in the moment, his cheek buried in the crook of your neck.

Too long or too short – you don’t know how much time has stretched by. You’re so wired, your brain feels melted and fucked, chunks of it oozing out of your ears. It’s almost cozy. Disgustingly so.

But all good things come to an end.  

The night hums like a club beat still thrumming in your bones. You sprawl in the wreckage of silk sheets, watching Leon slip into his jeans like a man who knows he’ll be back.

When he’s done, he turns and flashes you the cheesiest wink in the world. It always shocks you how corny he can be. Just minutes ago, he was fucking you into this very mattress – spread-your-legs kinda shit, fucked-your-brains-out kinda shit.

“Man, this room stinks of sex.” Leon makes a wry face and cups the tip of his nose.  

“Get your ass up and take a bath, or I’ll never set foot in here again.”  

You can hardly lift a hand to shoo him away. Mentally, you can no longer shield yourself from his crank antics. He knows it all and lets out a long, amused sigh – frolicsome.

“You’re a total goner, beautiful. Well, you’re a big girl. You’ll be fine.”

Before closing the suite door, he steals a quick glance at the digits of your phone number, scrawled on the palm of his hand – just to make sure they haven’t faded.

“I’ll give you a weekend wake-up call,” Leon promises and closes the door behind him.  

Whump.  

Mercifully, the next date is a shoo-in, but it only means enduring another endless evening – seconds stretching into minutes, minutes into hours – drowned in his blathering and off-color in-jokes.

Is it really worth it?

The answer, considering you still can’t bring yourself to get up and clean the drying cum off your stomach, can only be one thing. You might as well call Hunnigan and let her know you won’t be making it to work tomorrow.

[norrisleclercf1]

could you possibly write something about max getting jealous/butt-hurt that jimmy & sassy completely ignore him whenever reader is around ? like something silly & goofy. ☺️ i love your work btw 🫶🏻

A/N: Max would be pouty you're giving more love to the cats then him let's be real

It was the break, and instead of Max being the one that was curled up and using your chest as pillows he was currently glaring as Jimmy was curled under your neck as you two watched your new show on Netflix.

"Baby?" "I'm not moving the cat, Max." You sigh having missed your babies as you had been traveling with Max all over the world and you missed them dearly. Sassy was currently lying on your stomach purring happily and Max had your feet in his lap. "I just want, never mind," He grumbles, he was never one to admit he wanted to cuddle.

Sighing he goes back to watching the show, his mood slowly souring little by little, but he wasn't going to let you know that. You move carefully the cats' making noises but they settle and Max eyes you from the corner of his eyes. The way you look so comfortable, wearing one of his sweatshirts, fluffy socks, and a blanket covering the rest of you.

You turn your head slightly and see Max was glaring angrily at the cats and you sigh heavily pausing the TV and Max snaps out of it and blinks at you confused. "What is wrong? Are you upset your cats are cuddling with me? You can easily grab them if you want," You move Jimmy who just stares unimpressed while Max takes Jimmy careful holding him.

"I'm not, I don't want to cuddle the cats, just.....I wanted to cuddle you," He grumbles out, pouting almost and you sit up Sassy meowing loudly as she jumps down looking annoyed as well. "You wanted to cuddle me? You hate cuddles," You point out as Max grumbles gently putting Jimmy down.

"Yes, I do, I find them pointless, but I don't know, I just want to....lay on you?" He asks, playing with the end of the blanket. You have to school your face because you know it'll just make him not want to cuddle anymore. "Okay, well come here," You pull the blanket back and Max moves slowly before laying his weight on you slowly, not wanting to hurt you. "I'm okay, you can put your whole weight on me," Max listens and you move your hand to cup the back of his head playing with those hairs.

Max moves around to get comfortable, before settling and moving slightly closer, your chin resting on top of his chin as he reaches over and plays the show.

[grimmsbride]

LOVERS ROCK [ daisuke / reader ]

keeping your relationship a secret from your coworkers was no doubt; thrilling. and also, very, very challenging. it didn’t help the two of you just loved to push your limits

tags / ooc characters | semi-public sex (everyone is asleep but still) | reader & daisuke are slightly inexperienced | soft-top daisuke | mentions of marks | cowgirl | dry humping | porn with little plot | they fuck with earbuds in | mentions of the other crew members | fluffy at the beginning | pre-established relationship | sex under the stars.. | pre-crash | chubby & poc coded reader (but anyone is free to read) | i don’t know the exact time period but modern music is mentioned | you guys love holding hands | etc.

notes / #bringbackdryhumping | reader is the same janitor reader in my previous fic (obviously). i got this idea randomly, daisuke seems like the type to take his partner to scenic places for dates. and well.. the nighttime screen is about as scenic as it gets on the tulpar. i hope you enjoy and as usual please excuse any grammar mistakes or typos 🫶🏾. i feel i made him very ooc, i’m used to see daisuke smut being quite submissive to the reader so i wanted to go a different approach.. i think in situations like this he may be a little more confident, especially if his partner is reciprocating to the feeling. if you have any thoughts on the manner let me know <3

The Tulpar was filled with mundane tasks. Wake up, clean, eat, shower, and go back to sleep— a routine that’s been ingrained into your body. A continuous cycle that would have bored you to death without your beloved music. You were grateful for your position, no matter how minuscule, yet you couldn’t deny the wish for something more.

And luckily it came true; in the form of a young man nonetheless.

You weren’t one to mix business and pleasure, it just seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. Coming across Tulpar and the demographic you expected to be on the ship — older people that certainly weren’t your type — you were quite confident you wouldn’t go against your usual code. But alas, you surprised yourself while falling for a certain intern.

As bright eyed and slightly clueless he was, Daisuke was a pocket of sunshine you’ve come to truly adore. Always there when he can be, even if it means a quick kiss when you’re cleaning or a gentle pinch when passing by to remind you of who was in your corner.

Keeping your growing relationship a secret from your coworkers was troublesome but extremely necessary. You couldn’t imagine the expressions the others would display, especially Jimmy who just seemed to be far too eager to stomp on just about anyone's happiness; no matter the size.

Still, you couldn’t deny how thrilling it was at times. Pulling your partner into a quiet dark corner for a few extra kisses, or the secret looks the two of you gave each when in a public setting. The line was thinning longer and longer, close calls increasing as time passed.

And yet here you were, seated upon the living room couch; waiting for your beloved Daisuke.

Usually if the two of you wanted alone time when everyone was asleep you alternated between your bedrooms. At least there, there was a door and bed. But for some reason, Daisuke was adamant on spending some time out here; underneath the pretty nighttime screen.

Your eyes stared up at the blues and whites, head leaning back against the shoulder of the couch as music poured into your ears. Your thumb traced the little device, perfectly at ease.

That was until something delicately traced the back of your neck.

You swallowed a yelp, quickly turning with a jump to glare at the one responsible— who only grinned back at you.

“Daisuke! What if I had yelled?”

You stood up from the couch, watching the man walk around the before waltzing down the little steps. Within two strides he was standing in front of you, glancing down at you with the sweetest smile.

“But you didn't!” Daisuke chuckled the moment you lightly shoved his chest, catching your wrist in time before you could move it away. In doing so, he locked your fingers whilst his free hand went for the earbud occupying one of your ears. Pulling it out, the man then lifted it to his own, bringing himself closer to your form.

You met him, unoccupied hand sliding up to wrap your arm around his waist, laying your head against his chest. Between the melody of his heart beat and Tv Girl running through your ears, you were at complete bliss. As if you could fall asleep right then and there.

The two of you swayed, allowing yourselves to get caught up in each other rather than your surroundings. You felt his free hand sneak underneath your arm, pulling it higher until your hand was on top of his shoulder. After which, Daisuke’s hand found your waist, tugging you even closer and actually adding moves to your swaying.

You snorted softly, mumbling softly about him being corny to which the man only laughed. Silence continued after as the two of you danced slowly, carefully, as to hopefully not alert the others of your rather embarrassing nightly activities.

A step, another, and then a graceful stride. You wondered if Daisuke danced a lot back home. The thought caused you to laugh once again, just in time for your lover to twirl you.

Slithering his arm tighter around your waist, he pulled your back to his front, face being shoved into your neck.

Your eyes peeled open, staring up at the nighttime screen that stared back at you. “Dancing under the stars, huh?..”

“A perfect date.”

You smiled at his words, hand rose to reach back and lightly fuss with his hair. “Yeah, all girls love dancing at work while watching a blown up image of a fake sky.”

Daisuke laughed into your ear, the pitch perfectly going along with the music you shared.

“I told my dad I knew what the ladies wanted.”

You groaned softly, teetering between amusement and playful annoyance. You turned around in his hold, hands rising to hold his warm cheeks.

“You’re corny..”

Daisuke smiled, thumb tracing the small of your back, messing with the fabric of the top you wore. “And lucky for me, you’re into it.” You didn’t need to agree nor deny, given the sweet kiss you pressed to his lips was answer enough. He kneeled to meet you fully, tugging you so close as if wishing to melt into you. Your noses brushed against each other, cold tips warming as you consumed one another. You loved kissing Daisuke, not just because he was your boyfriend but more-so cause he was a damned good kisser.

His lips always moved so slow at first, before slowly picking up the longer you continued. A hand rose from your back to instead cup the back of your head, a shiver running down your spine the moment his fingers traced up your scalp; messing in your hair.

So desperate.. you two always were. The thought of any interruptions spurred you on to always savor each and every moment with as much as passion as possible.

And it seemed the both of you intended to do just that, as — ever so carefully — Daisuke walked backwards, leading you with him. Once close enough he was descending to the couch, taking you with him by the waist and pulling you onto his lap.

The two of you broke apart for a moment, gulping up the air around you greedily before smashing your lips together with even more vigor. Your hands were clutching his shoulders at this point, suddenly being reminded Daisuke wasn’t just some clueless man.

You shivered as you felt his hand glide, intruding your top to lay his fingers upon your warm skin. With each interlock of your tongues his fingers were digging into your flesh, a soft whine being pushed from his throat into your mouth. The sound alone caused your thighs to clench, moving carefully in his lap.

Which of course, was met with a hiss and a quick squeeze. You questioned this for a moment, before quickly realizing why it happened in the first place.

This only caused you to smile against him, lowering your hips fully before dragging them against him slowly.

Daisuke was off your lips in minutes, hands falling to your waist as a hushed groan escaped his bruised lips.

“Here?..” The man spoke gently, eyes flicking from between your bodies before back to your face. His eyebrows furrowed as you continued your languid drags, biting the inside of his cheek nervously.

You nodded slowly, leaning closer to press your lips to his ear. “Mhm.. here.”

“Then.. I want to feel— more. Please.” His words were sweet, allowing them to settle in the air for a moment before his fingers were curling to tug at your pants, allowing you to get the message. You stood up rather quickly, pushing your pants down and off, the bottoms pooling at your ankles.

You watched as Daisuke did the same, now only in plain boxers, a funny contrast to the gaudy everyday shirt he usually wore.

Stepping out of your pants, you caught his hands as you made your way back to his lap, brushing your clothed cunt right against his growing bulge as you sat down. It was your time to whine as you felt him through your thin fabrics, Daisuke capturing your lips rather quickly afterwards.

Slowly, you began that same languid pace, gripping his shoulders for stability as you dragged your hips back and forth.. back and forth. His nails were digging into your thighs, meeting your movement with a small, desperate thrust. Moans passed between the two of you, warmth, and music mixing into a sensation that you could only describe as euphoria.

Dramatic sure, but what else could you call it, exactly?

“Could come.. ju—just from this.” Daisuke mumbled the moment the two of you broke apart for air, his face falling to your neck to stamp wet kisses to your skin. He was gentle not to focus too much on a single area, worrying about leaving behind a mark. Though, it seemed rather contradictory given the location the two of you chose for your.. fun.

You were aching, panties surely soaked with arousal as that itch grew. You could only pant in his ear, unsure how exactly this felt so good. Maybe it was pent up, a mixture of stress and the misfortune of lack of alone time. Regardless, it wasn’t your job to figure it out at the moment.

The only job you had right now was to continue to chase this feeling, for as long as you could.

Daisuke pulled you closer if humanly possible, hips rising up from the couch as he ground up into you. He wasn’t lying early, despite zero actual contact he could feel himself twitching— begging for release. The effect you had on him was far too great, after all.

Desperate breaths escaped you, thighs shaky yet yearning for more. His touch, everything, you wanted to feel it all. Your fingers rose to curl into his hair, leaning into his ear as the softest more, dropped from your tongue.

Your words spurred him, fingers squeezing your flesh, nails tracing against those pretty marks that lined your hips.

“You want more?.. Of course, whatever you want.”

Daisuke could never deny you, no matter how small the request was. In minutes he was tugging his boxers down to his thighs, hand lazily dragging across his length. It was a pretty color, lighter than him, with a mole on the under side of his shaft.

The man then reached with his other hand to curl his finger on your panty, tugging it to the side and exposing your soft cunt to his hand. For a moment his finger gently circled your hardened bud, enjoy the pleasant noises you struggled to keep down.

But soon enough he was becoming as desperate as you, helping you position carefully, rubbing his weeping tip against your clit. Daisuke hissed, continuing to coat his dick in your arousal before finding your entrance, lining up, and raising his hips to push himself inside.

The both of you groaned, your eyes pinched closed as you sunk down. Your walls wrapped around his length perfectly, swallowing him up and keeping him deep inside. With each breath you released you clenched, causing the young man under you to struggle to keep his mind straight. Daisuke couldn’t help being so inexperienced, and well.. neither could you, given you felt a single movement would be enough to push you over the edge.

Your eyes slowly opened, gaze falling to his face, taking the time to map out his expression. Would it be corny to call him beautiful? Was it corny to find your lover beautiful in a such state? Under your mercy, as close as biologically possible? Maybe.. but you didn’t dwell on it long, instead deciding to graze your palms across his cheeks, thumbs coming to trace the moles on either side.

“I love you.”

Your words were earnest, laced with the sweetest honey. You smiled, watching his own signature smile cross his face, perfectly. Like any other time.

Daisuke pulled you even closer, a grip to your thigh as he leaned to just a breath’s away.

“See. Now you’re the corny one.”

Your lover swallowed the pretty laughter threatening to leave your chest, all smiles as his arms wrapped around your waist. Once tucked close and snug, his hips, the small thrust enough for the both of you to sigh into the other’s mouth.

Soon enough your knees were pressing against the cushions, hips rising and falling into his lap. With each drop, wet skin smacked against each other, certainly a worrying sound but the two of you seemed to no longer care.

You were too caught up in each other anyway.

Your fingers curled into his silky locks, crying out into his mouth as he stirred you up deeply. His length hit each spot perfectly, a mold made specifically for you. And what’s more, the moment a hand snaked under your skirt to drag his thumb across your nipple— you began to see stars.

Daisuke groaned into you, meeting each drop of your hips with desperate thrusts. You felt so good, way too good. He tried to keep his voice down as to avoid alerting the others, and hear you. You just sounded far too good to ignore.

Your shaky breaths, the way your voice pitched whenever his tip brushed against that special spot — don’t even get him started on the gasps you made when Daisuke went, just a little too deep. Alas he couldn’t focus on the growing list of reasons for his obsession you; bringing you complete pleasure was the main objective.

“You’re clenching me.. you’re going to come, aren’t you?” Daisuke drawled against your lips, pressing a kiss to them before dragging his own over to your ear. Each pant and groan hit it directly, the man at this point helping you rise and fall upon his cock.

“I want you to finish.. all over me.”

“Daisuke—!”

“Not so loud..” The intern spoke in a soft rasp, squeezing you close as his end grew closer. “I don’t need the others to hear you like this. It’s on—only for me, yeah?”

You shook your head rapidly, lip nearly bleeding from how hard you were biting down, your fingers digging into his shoulders— sure to leaves marks despite the shirt he wore.

Within moments you were seeing white, clutching him as you fulfilled his wish. Your arousal coated his dick and thighs, making a sticky mess that was surely on the couch by now.

Daisuke swore under his breath, bringing you onto his lap in one final thrust before filling you up. Luckily he remembered you took the pill as to regulate your period.

The two of you panted, in sync with each other and the music that seemed to still be blasting in your ears. How exactly your earbuds sustained that erratic movement, you will never know nor question.

You pulled back to glance at Daisuke, spotting the man already looking at you, smiling brightly.

You rolled your eyes, glancing down at the space between your two bodies.

“This is going to be so annoying to clean.”

Daisuke stifled his laughter, pulling you into a tight hug, eyes shining whilst he stared up at the screen;

“Maybe… I love you too, [Name].”

[finnzcorner]

I drew Grian for like the third time ever lol

[logansdoll]

pep talk

part two of "contingency"

CW: fluffy fluff, suggestive, profanity, takes place after X2 (Jean survives), the girls are so kind to you, you have to adjust to modern life, angst if you squint, etc.

"No way!" you exclaimed, eyes wide as you grabbed the remote, completely taken aback as you flicked through station after station.

Rogue nodded, grabbing another wildflower growing out your palm and tucking it in your hair, slightly amused by your surprise.

"You guys have so many channels! How is that possible?"

"Science," Kitty shrugged. "We have a whole bunch of new technology now."

"Wait 'til we show you what a flip-phone is..." Jubilee smirked, tossing some popcorn into her mouth.

"A flip-phone?" you asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

"That's somethin' we can tackle t'morrow," Rogue assured, carefully placing another peony in another section.

After being rescued from Alkali Lake, and getting a quick check-up from Jean, the students were more than eager to welcome you into the mansion.

And because of your obvious gap in knowledge in anything after 1988, the older girls took it upon themselves to educate you.

Of course, Ororo made sure you had at least a week to get your bearings about yourself before releasing the hounds.

"Wait, so Tom Selleck doesn't count as hot now? And Stallone isn't in all the action movies anymore?" you asked, skimming through some of the magazines Jubilee managed to grab out her closet.

"Who?" Kitty raised a brow.

"Eighties hunks," Jubilee clarified before turning to you. "And they've moved aside to make way for the hotties of the 21st century. Like Johnny Depp."

"Please," Rogue scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Johnny Depp is not hot."

"Tell that to People," Kitty grinned, holding up a tabloid that read SEXIEST MAN ALIVE in bold letters right above Depp's head-shot.

"He's not too bad," you nodded, getting a good look at his face.

'He's got nothing on Jimmy...'

"See," Jubilee smirked, crossing her arms in triumph. "If he's not a modern-day knock-out then who is?"

"Brad Pitt," Rogue answered, matter-of-factly.

"I knew you were gonna say that!"

"You watched Fight Club with Bobby, didn't you?" Kitty teased.

"Shut up!"

"Fight Club?" you turned to Kitty for explanation.

"It's a movie about guys fighting each other and trying to bring down capitalist society."

"And Brad Pitt getting all shirtless and sweaty," Jubilee cheekily whispered, earning a pillow to the face. "Hey!"

"There," Rogue smiled, placing the finishing touch before giving your shoulder a soft pat. "All done."

Carefully, you stood up, walking over to the full length mirror near the closet and smiling brightly at what you saw.

Your hair was adorned with all different flavors of bloom, the vibrant colors only enhancing your natural beauty.

"I love it," you smiled, marveling her even placement.

"Ugh. I'd kill Kitty to look like that," Jubilee slumped, resting her cheek in her palm.

"Sitting right here, dude," Kitty sighed.

"I can do you next, if you like," Rogue offered.

"Here," you nodded, sprouting a bouquet of wildflowers out one of their potted plants before sliding on your slippers. "You girls can keep going. I think I'm gonna go on a walk."

"Cool," Jubilee nodded, watching you make your way to the door. "If we don't see you again then good night~"

You paid the odd inflection no mind, waving goodbye before taking your leave, shutting the door behind yourself.

And once the coast was clear, Jubilee smirked, turning to the others with a knowing look.

"I think we all know who she's going to go see, right?"

"Oh, totally."

"Absolutely."

So preoccupied with Jubilee, you failed to remember just how drafty the mansion got at night, cursing yourself for forgetting your sweater in the room.

"I hate the cold..." you grumbled, hugging yourself tight.

Walking through the hall, you could hear the rustling of students on the other sides of the doors.

Some were debriefing about the events of the day, some were sleeping.

Others talking about the Alkali Lake incident.

Your face fell at the reminder.

James had told you countless times that what happened wasn't your fault, but you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt.

When you were cornered by Stryker's mutant-hunting task force, you thought you could fight them back, but you couldn't even take down one.

Granted, they were highly trained professionals, and you'd never used your mutation to fight before...

But that was no excuse.

What did that leave you as?

A) A helpless damsel, who needed her prince to bail her out of a pinch?

Or B) A stupid girl who let herself get put on ice because she wasn't strong enough to fight back?

C) All of the above.

"Whoa. You think any harder and you'll have steam comin' outta your ears," Logan noted, somehow in front of you.

"Shit!" you exclaimed, eyes wide as you instinct took over, punching something that felt like a brick wall.

'Where did he come from?!'

He grunted, holding his side, "You hit... hard."

"Fuck, I'm sorry," you winced, guiltily, as you moved closer to inspect it, carefully moving his hand. "It was just so dark and you scared the hell outta me."

You lifted his tank top, trying your best to check for a forming bruise in the dim light.

But there was nothing there, his healing factor kicking in much faster than you expected.

"Was thinking of about telling you a joke about how much you take my breath away, but I think you're a little preoccupied at the moment," he looked down at you, a grin spreading across his lips at your staring.

You scoffed, cheeks burning as you pulled his shirt down.

"Couldn't sleep?" you asked, quickly switching the subject, tightening your arms around yourself.

Logan smiled, your words fading into the background as he took the time to get a good look at you.

And fuck... a look you where.

You exchanged your low-rise jeans and long-sleeve (courtesy of Ororo) for a tank top and shorts, your curves now on display quite nicely.

"Nope," he shook his head, somehow making the motion sexy. "You?"

You sighed, commending yourself for making it this far—you were this close to pouncing on him.

"I just need some air, so I'm going on a walk. And speaking of..." you continued on, stepping around the large man to continue your stroll.

It caught him by surprise, but he quickly turned around, catching up to and getting in front of you.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey," he halted, brows furrowed in concern. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," you assured, poorly. "Just trying to get past."

"Nuh uh. Don't do that," he shook his head. "Don't downplay this. Somethin's wrong. I can see it all over your face."

'Shit.'

You let out a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping at being caught.

"I can't stand you, y'know that?"

"Start talking."

"Have I ever told you how good you look in blue jeans?"

"(y/n)."

"Alright."

You exhaled, steeling your nerves in case things went awry.

"Look... Jimmy..." you started, choppily, taking his hand in yours. "Fifteen years is a long time... too long for some people."

You cursed yourself as you could already feel a lump forming in your throat.

You hadn't even started yet.

"To me, it feels like yesterday we were at our place in the Rockies, making dinner together and talking about our day, renting shitty movies and falling asleep on the couch together."

The memories flowed over you like a calm tide, a smile stretching onto your lips as you recalled pretending to fall asleep so he'd carry you to bed.

But it wasn't long before those waters dried up, leaving nothing but cracked, jagged sand underneath.

"But to you, it was a lifetime ago. And a person can... move on... given the right conditions."

"What're you saying?" he asked, firmly.

"I'm saying that it's okay if you've moved on from me, James," you blurted, your voice having a slight crack.

It hurt even more to say it out loud.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, even more confused, as his hands came around to hold you.

"You've spent the better half of fifteen years unaware that I even existed. And now that I've popped back into your life, I don't want you to feel obligated to love me because of something that happened in the past... I couldn't do that to you. Especially if you have feelings for someone else."

"And who else could I possibly I have feelings for?" he asked, sarastically.

"Jean," you stated, flatly. "I see the way she looks at you. She may be with Scott, but that's the look of a woman who's willing to test the waters. And I don't want to get in the way if that's something you want to pursue."

Amused, and honestly speechless, Logan could do nothing but laugh, slightly offended that you thought of him as that type of man.

"What's so funny?" you asked softly, eyes saddening as you watched him, quite hurt that he was laughing.

He cracked a grin, cupping your cheek in his hand.

"Baby, you're talkin' about me gettin' with another woman as you stand here, wrapped in my arms, and about to come back to bed with me."

Huh?

His thumb caressed your cheek as he pulled you in closer, resting his forehead against yours.

"(y/n), you are my wife, you hear me? My wife," he spoke sincerely, eyes never leaving you for a moment. "My memories might've been taken before, but they're all back now. And I remember every goddamn detail about you, about us, and about our life before all this bullshit."

You were too stunned to speak.

You knew James could get serious, but you never knew he could get serious.

It was doing some things to you.

"I don't want no one else because, to me, there is no one else. And the quicker you get that through your head, the quicker we can get back to bed 'cause it is fuckin' freezin' out here."

You snickered, both tickled and appalled by his horribly blunt speech.

"That was the worst pep talk I've ever had," you chuckled, shaking your head as you cupped his cheek in your hand.

"Not my strong suit," he finished with a smirk.

But that was all he needed before he roughly kissed you, pulling you in by the nape of your neck.

You kissed back just as passionate, sliding your hands down to his chest as he leaned in, getting the better angle on you.

One of his hands dropped to grab your thigh, hiking it up and pulling you flush against him in an attempt to keep you as close as possible.

But, quickly, you both separated, panting, abuzz with excitement as you rested against each other.

"Bed. Now," he growled in your ear, suddenly hoisting you up and tossing you over his shoulder.

"Jimmy!" you quietly squealed, your face burning with embarrassment as he landed a loud slap on your ass.

'God, I hope the kids are asleep...'

taglist !!

@catiwinky @seamlessepiphany @vinaluvsu @kellyxo1 @amandarobertsboyce @shakysif @captainloki1 @qveendiorsworld @sarahskywalker-amidala @mei-simp @oatmilkriver @br3nt-12 @bimboshaggy @lightsgore @edszn @couturewinx @sunroxic @notanotheroldman @bontensbabygirl @buckleysg1rl @marvelgirlie-4 @eljaynosine-triphosphate

[prettyfilmz]

BIG JIM • JIMMY USO

author's note: hey my loves! I hope you had a happy new year🥳 i come to you with big jim for the big 2025. this idea spurred from back at war games and after many rewrites and revisions, this beautiful work was born. I hope you enjoy as I work on chain reaction pt. 2!💗

synopsis: in which amara is the only one who knows the origin of 'big jim'.

warnings: 18+(MDNI), jimmy has a big dick ;) , black female!oc, dirty talk, hotel sex, praise kink, riding, reverse cowgirl, mating press, squirting, creampie, lots of kissing, pussy slaps, overstimulation, spanking, slight dacryphilia, pet names (mama, love, pretty girl baby girl, baby), daddy kink (subtle) , teasing, fluffy lovey dovey shit at the end.

word count: 2.6k words

Backstage at the Intuit Dome, the camera crew was in motion, chasing wrestlers for interviews and behind the scenes moments. Among the chaos, Jimmy leaned casually against a wall, dressed down in his merch and a fitted snapback, a cocky smirk plastered on his face.

He wasn’t wrestling tonight, but his presence alone was enough to stir commotion.  Everyone wanted to know the answer to one question, the same one that had been swirling for months.

“Jimmy, got a minute?” Cathy Kelley asked, stepping into frame with a mic.  She was smiling brightly, but Jimmy could already tell where this was headed.

“Sure, what’s good uce?” Jimmy shrugged, folding his arms across his chest.

“Well, first of all, congratulations on the momentum you’ve been building since you’ve returned. The fans love and missed you, and you’ve been killing it out there.”

“Always,” he replied smoothly, winking at the camera.

She laughed lightly.  “But there’s something else everyone’s been talking about, and I have to ask: the nickname.  Big Jim.  Where did that come from?  You’ve got the commentators using it, fans are chanting it—and yet, you never seem to explain the origin.”

Jimmy chuckled, the sound low and easy, as if he’d been expecting this all night.  “Man, y’all don’t quit, huh?”

“Come on, Jimmy, the people need answers!” she teased, leaning in slightly.  “Is it a reference to your presence in the ring? an inside joke?”

“Nah, nah,” Jimmy said, shaking his head with a grin.  “See, that’s the thing. That’s between me, my girl, and God.”

The interviewer’s curiosity deepened.  “Your girlfriend Amara?  So, she gave you the name?”

Jimmy tilted his head, smirking knowingly.  “Somethin’ like that.  You wanna know what it’s about, you gotta ask her. But good luck with that, ‘cause she ain’t talkin’.”

The camera zoomed in on his face as he finished the sentence, the smugness radiating off him, and the interviewer gave a resigned laugh.  “You’re killing us here, Jimmy.”

“Hey, I just play my role,” he said with a shrug, then leaned closer to the mic, his voice dropping a little lower.  “But trust me—she know exactly why it’s Big Jim.”

The interview ended, but the smirk didn’t leave Jimmy’s face as he walked away, hands in his pockets, and the sound of the fans chants ringing in his ears.

♡

Hours later, Jimmy strolled into the dimly lit hotel room he was sharing with Amara, his energy still vibrant from the night’s teasing.  The second the door clicked shut behind him, he spotted her on the bed legs crossed, her curvy frame dressed in one of his t-shirts. It barely skimmed her thighs, leaving her soft, brown skin on full display. Her curls pulled into a cute pineapple bun, and her lips curled into a knowing smile when she looked up at him.

“Another interview about ‘Big Jim’, huh?” she asked, her tone amused.

Jimmy laughed, shaking his head as he tossed his snapback onto the dresser.  “Man, I swear, these people don’t got nothin’ better to talk about but that.”

“Well, you love the attention, so don’t act brand new now,” she teased, watching as he peeled off his hoodie, revealing the tattoos that decorated across his chest and arms.

“Yeah, I do,” he admitted, stepping closer to the bed.  His gaze darkened as it swept over her, lingering on the way the t-shirt stretched over her curves.  “But you love it too, don’t you, mama?”

She rolled her eyes playfully, but her smile gave her away.  “What I love is you keeping your mouth shut about why you call yourself that.”

Jimmy grinned, climbing onto the bed, his weight dipping the mattress as he crawled toward her.  “Oh, yeah?  Why’s that?”

“Because it’s nobody’s business but ours,” she said firmly, though her breath hitched as he slid a hand up her thigh, his fingers brushing the bare skin beneath the shirt.

“That’s right,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her, his lips soft but insistent against hers.  “Ain’t nobody else gonna know what I’m packin’—‘cept for you, baby.”

The kiss deepened quickly, his tongue sweeping past her lips as his hands roamed her body, squeezing her thighs, her waist, pulling her closer until she was pressed against him.  His hard length was already straining against his sweats, and Amara couldn’t help but grind against him, her own arousal building with every touch.

“You feel that, pretty girl?” he whispered against her lips, his voice a low growl.  “That’s why they call me Big Jim. You remember, don’t you?”

Amara whimpered softly, her hands gripping his shoulders as he pushed her onto her back, his weight pressing her into the mattress.  “I couldn’t forget,” she murmured, her voice breathy.

Jimmy chuckled, kissing her again, slower this time, as his hands slipped under the hem of the shirt, dragging it up her body.  “Good.  ‘Cause I’m about to remind you, baby.  You ready for that?”

Her answer was a needy kiss, her hands tugging at the waistband of his sweats, desperate to feel all of him.  Jimmy took his time, though, stripping her down from her shirt to her skimpy panties, his lips and hands worshipping every inch of her as he went.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his eyes raking over her naked body as she lay beneath him.  “So fuckin’ pretty, mama.  Every time I see you, I swear you get finer.”

“Jimmy...” she whimpered, her thighs squeezing together as his hands spread them apart again.

“Nah, don’t hide from me girl,” he said, his voice firm but teasing.  “You know I love seein’ all of you.”

His lips trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin before sucking gently, leaving marks that she knew she’d have to cover up the next day. But she didn’t care—not when his mouth kept moving lower, over her chest, her stomach, until he was between her thighs, his breath warm against her heated core.

Jimmy grinned up at her, his hands gripping her thighs as he kissed her inner thigh, biting softly before dragging his tongue over the spot.  “You want Daddy to take care of you, baby girl?”

Her answer was a soft moan, her fingers tangling in his hair as he spread her glistening lips open with his thumbs, his mouth descending on her swollen clit.

Jimmy’s tongue worked her like he had all the time in the world. He dragged it through her slick folds, savoring the taste of her, groaning against her pussy like he couldn’t get enough. Amara’s thighs trembled, her hands gripping his hair as he sucked her clit into his mouth, alternating between teasing licks and firm pressure.

“Jimmy...  oh, my God,” she whimpered, her back arching off the mattress as his hands gripped her thighs tighter, holding her in place.

“Nah, baby,” he murmured between kisses to her sensitive bud.  “Ain’t no God here. Jus’ me. And I’m the only one you gon’ pray to tonight.”

The cocky rasp in his voice sent another wave of heat crashing through her, and she couldn’t stop the moan that spilled from her lips when he dipped lower to her entrance, his tongue slipping inside her.  He thrust it in and out, his nose nudging her clit, and the combination had her gasping, her head tossing back against the pillows.

“Jimmy! o-oh—fuck, I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he growled, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, his beard glistening with her arousal.  “Give it to me, mama.”

His fingers replaced his tongue, sliding into her pussy curving just right to hit that special spot inside her that made her see stars.  His tongue returned to her clit, flicking it mercilessly as his fingers plunged into her over and over.

Amara’s body tensed, her thighs trembling as she was pushed toward the edge. And then, with a sharp cry, she came, her release soaking his fingers as her hips jerked uncontrollably.

“Goddamn,” Jimmy muttered, licking his fingers clean, his eyes dark with hunger as he looked down at her.  “You always make such a big mess, baby. Can’t get enough of you.”

Before she could catch her breath, he was on her again, dragging her into his lap.  He sat back against the headboard, his sweats already discarded, his thick, heavy dick standing proud between them.  The sheer size of him made her thighs clench instinctively, and Jimmy caught the flicker of awe in her eye.

“C’mon, mama,” he said, his hands gripping her waist as he guided her over him, teasing her entrance with the tip.  “You’ve taken it before.  You can take it again. You’re my good girl, ain’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling, her breath catching as she lowered herself onto him.

The stretch was intense, almost too much, and Jimmy groaned low in his throat, his fingers flexing against her hips as she sank down, inch by inch, until he bottomed out.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled, his head falling back against the headboard as he felt her walls squeezing him.  “Look at you, takin’ all of me.  Pussy so fuckin’ tight for me.  You feel that, huh?”

Amara whimpered, shifting her hips a little.  “You’re so big, Daddy,” she gasped, her voice trembling.

“I know, baby.  I know,” Jimmy murmured, his hands sliding up to cup her ass, squeezing it as he began to guide her movements.  “But you’re takin’ it so good.  Just like you always do.”

She started to move, her hips rolling in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had them both moaning.  Jimmy’s hands roamed her body, tracing the curve of her waist, her breasts, her thighs, like he couldn’t decide where to focus.

“That’s my good girl,” he said, groaning.  “Look at you. Ridin’ daddy like a pro. Fuckin’ made for me.”

Amara’s pace quickened, her thighs burning with effort as she chased the pleasure building inside her.  Jimmy watched her intently, his eyes fixed on the way her body moved, the way her nails dug into his chest as she lost herself to the rhythm.

“You close, baby?” he asked, his voice teasing.  “You gon’ cum on Daddy’s dick?”

“Yes, yes,” she whimpered, her head tipping back as the pleasure surged through her, overwhelming her.

Jimmy grinned, gripping her waist tighter as he thrust up into her, meeting her movements with his own.  “That’s it, baby.  Cum for me.  Let me feel you.”

Her climax hit her once again, trembling as she cried and cursed out his name. Jimmy groaned, his dick twitching inside her as her walls clenched around him.

But he wasn’t done.

“Turn around,” he says softly but firm.

Amara obeyed, her body still trembling as she shifted into reverse cowgirl, her hands gripping his thighs for balance.  Jimmy’s hands were back on her ass in an instant, spreading her cheeks as he guided her back onto him.

“Look at this fuckin’ view,” he muttered, giving her ass a sharp smack that made her yelp.  “You’re so goddamn sexy, baby.  Can’t get enough of your pretty ass.”

He thrust up into her, the angle hitting deeper than before, and Amara’s cries filled the room as he pounded into her.

“Fuck, daddy!” she sobbed, her head falling forward as tears pricked her eyes from the overwhelming sensation.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, his hands gripping her hips as he drove into her harder, faster.  “You so pretty when you cry for me.”

Amara’s third orgasm ripped through her, her body shaking as her squirted around him, soaking his thighs.  Jimmy didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, still  pounding into her relentlessly as he chased his own climax.

“On your back mama,” he demanded, his voice rough.

She barely had time to move before he flipped her onto the mattress, folding her knees to her chest as he slid back inside her.  His thrusts were deeper, slower, and Amara’s cries got louder as the pleasure overwhelmed her again.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his cock driving into her with enough force to make the bed creak.  “I’m gon’ cum baby.  You want that, huh?  Want daddy to cum inside you?”

“Yes, Daddy, please!” she cried, her nails digging into his shoulders.

With a final, deep thrust, Jimmy came, his dick twitching as he spilled inside her, the warmth flooding her walls.  He groaned low in his throat, his hips jerking as he emptied himself, his release spilling out of her as he stayed buried deep.

When he finally pulled out, Amara was trembling, her thighs soaked, her body completely spent.  Jimmy grinned down at her, leaning in to kiss her softly, his lips lingering against hers.

He rolled onto his side, draping an arm over her body as they lay tangled together in the sheets.  Her chest was still rising and falling heavily, a flush blooming across her brown skin as she tried to catch her breath.  Jimmy’s head rested on her shoulder, his lips brushing against her collarbone, leaving lazy kisses like he was tending to a delicate flower.

“You alive down there, mama?” he murmured, grinning against her skin.

“Barely,” Amara muttered, her voice muffled as she pressed a hand to her forehead, feigning exasperation.  “I can’t believe you.”

Jimmy’s eyebrows shot up in mock offense as he propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her with an exaggerated pout.  “What you mean you can’t believe me? Girl  I’m out here givin’ you the best dick of your life, and this is the thanks I get?”

She swatted his chest lightly, but her lips betrayed her with a small smile.  “You know damn well you’re a show off. Who does all that and still has the audacity to talk shit after?”

“Me,” Jimmy said proudly, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.  “Big Jim, baby.  That’s what I do.”

Amara rolled her eyes, but she was laughing now, the sound bubbling up soft and carefree.  Jimmy grinned down at her, loving the sight of her like this; relaxed, happy, and vulnerable.

“You know what?” he said suddenly, his tone playful as he leaned down to kiss her again, this time pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth, then her nose, then her forehead, each kiss accompanied by a dramatic “mwah!”

Amara squirmed under his affection, giggling as she tried to push him away.  “Jim, stop!  You’re so annoying!”

“Nah, I ain’t stoppin’,” he said, wrapping his arms around her tighter, trapping her against him.  “I’m annoyin’, but you love it. Don’t even lie.”

“Do not,” she huffed, though her grin said otherwise.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, leaning back just enough to look her in the eye.  “Oh, so you don’t love it when I hold you like this?  Or when I kiss you like this?” He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her lips that made her toes curl despite her resolve.

“Maybe,” she whispered, her voice soft now, her gaze flicking away shyly.

“Maybe?” Jimmy repeated, chuckling as he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes.  “Nah, mama.  Say it right.  You love it.”

Amara bit her lip, eyes rolling and her cheeks warm as she finally relented.  “Fine.  I love it.”

Jimmy beamed, his grin wide and boyish, and he pressed his forehead to hers, their noses brushing.  “Damn right you do.”

The moment softened, their laughter fading into quiet, affectionate silence as Jimmy reached up to tuck a stray coil behind her ear.  His hand lingered, cupping her cheek as his thumb brushed her skin.

Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he said, “Now, don’t be surprised when I tell the next interviewer they gotta ask you why they call me Big Jim.  You better have somethin’ good ready to tell ‘em.”

Amara groaned, covering her face with her hands as she burst out laughing.  “You’re annoying!”

“You love it though,” he teased, pulling her into his chest, holding her tight as her laughter echoed around them.

And damn it she did.

taglist: @bebesobrielo @zillasvilla @harmshake @amandairene88 @pr0tost4r @skyesthebomb @cyberdejos2 @4milly @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @bloodlinesbabe93 @punksyeet @xbriexx @li-da-savage @partypoison00 @theusotwinzcom @fearlesschimera @luvrsluxe

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[funnyjb]

hi! can i request for more postpartum fics? they are sooo good! maybe some happy moments but also sadly reader going through it and joe being there for her? thanks!

Hi ofc!

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Brooks Levi Burrow was born just a few days ago. Your first night in the house with a newborn was smooth sailing. Nothing but cuddles and the sound of a quiet baby.

Your in Laws and your parents have decided to stop by any chance they get to be with you, Joe, and the baby.

“Mom, it’s ok I got it.”- picking up Brooks to put him to bed

“Are you sure, sweetie, I’m happy to do it.”- your mom got up from the couch

Robin and Jimmy along with your father were in the kitchen talking with Joe.

“It’s ok.”- you

“Y/n, hold him up higher.”- your mom

“Mom! I got it. Let me put him to bed and he’s fine, ok?”- you

Your hormones are all over the place but everyone has been getting on your nerves lately. You feel like everyone is all over you and the baby. The parents have been over so much you haven’t gotten alone time in 4 days. 4 days!

You walk up the stairs to put brooks down.

“Is she ok?”- Robin

Your mom walks over

“Yeah, I think it’s just a lot for her. She has never raised her voice at me.”- your mom

“It’s ok, she’s going through a lot.”- your dad

Joe stands there thinking.

“I’m going to go check on her.”- joe

“Give it a minute, sweetie. She probably needs a breather.”- Robin

Joe nods

After a couple minutes Joe decides to go up.

You were in the rocking chair holding Brooks in your arms. He was fast asleep.

The nursery was decorated with navy’s and creams. The fluffy pillows and stuffed animals stacked in one corner. The beautiful book shelf filled with baby books and football memorabilia on every shelf along with some pictures of you and Joe and some family.

“Hey, you ok?”- joe

You look up.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”- you

Joe gave you a look.

“I’m fine, really. Just tired.”- you

Joe walked over to you.

“Want me to take him? You can go hang out in the bedroom for a bit. Get away from the parents.”- joe smiled

“You sure?”- you

“Yes, anything for you.”- joe winks

You hand him brooks.

Joe walked over to the crib and set brooks down.

He stared at his son. In awe of what both of you created.

You stepped out to give him a moment alone.

—————————————-

A year ago

Your family and Joe’s were all at the dinner table. It was a night after a game. Everyone still had enough energy to eat and drink. Joe sat at the head of the table. You were next to him on the side. Joe was engaging in a conversation with his dad about the game. The rest of the parents were talking with the siblings. Joes nephews run wild around the couch not to far from you guys.

As the conversations slowly starts to die down Joes brother starts to speak up.

“So, y/n and Joe when do you think you guys will give this family a new member?”- Jamie smiles

You and Joe look up in distraught

“Um.”- you look at Joe

“Well, we haven’t really been thinking about that right now.”- joe chuckles

“Yeah…haven’t really talked about it. Our focus is football right now.”- you smile and then start to play with your fork on your plate.

That conversation was always a little weird to you whenever someone brought it up after you two got married. Of course you wanted kids with Joe. It was your dream to have Joe the father of your children. You never knew what to say when someone asked you.

You just knew how life would be so different after having kids.

“Ugh, y/n you would be the best mom.”- codi smiles

“Thanks, codi.”- you smile back

When you look back at Joe he is already staring at you smiling.

Of course you had to return that smile.

“Just think about a mini Joe or y/n running around, coming to games, and having dinner with us here.”- Jamie

“That is pretty cute to think about.”- Robin

The truth is you were nervous about becoming a mom. You loved the idea and the thought of having a mini you or Joe walking around filled your heart with excitement, but then again also brought nerves.

What happens if I mess up?

Joe is going to be gone a lot

Not getting sleep the first few months

All of that sent some few nerves.

As the conversation kept going on and you kept smiling at the talk. You needed a moment to relax and think.

“Anyone done with their plate?”- you

You took yours and Joes. Everyone else kept talking.

Placed the plates in the sink and rinsed and started to put them in the dishwasher.

Joe sensed you were thinking about something. Something that made you feel nervous or anxious.

He got up and walked over to you.

He came next to you and helped with the dishes.

“Thanks. You don’t have to. Go enjoy time with your family.”- you smile

“But I want to be here with you.”- Joe

You chuckle

Joe just keeps looking at you.

“You ok? Seemed a little bit out of it at the table for a minute.”- Joe

“Yeah..yeah. I’m good.”- you

“Y/n.”- Joe

“Just…it’s weird, you know? I always loved the thought of us having kids. Seeing them at your games and hugging you when you get home. Running around with them or putting them to bed. It’s just all of it kicks in. Our lives are going to change. For the better of course. But the sleeplessness nights for the first couple months, running around in the chaos, and I mean during the football season you’re not going to be home much. Sorry, this is all stupid.”- you

“No, no, y/n. I get it. It’s a little weird for me too. I mean me? Being a dad?”- Joe laughs

You laugh too

“It’s a little bit weird to think but I do know something. It’s that I wouldn’t want to have my kids with anyone else but you. You would be the best mom y/n. And we will get through it together when the time comes. All I know is that we will try our best and have a great support system with us.”- Joe

You nod

“I love you.”- you

“Love you more.”- Joe

—————————————

“He’s one cute baby.”- Your mom says

All of you guys were now sitting back on the couch. The house was slightly dim. Outside was complete darkness. And there you all sat all in great company and love.

“He really is a combination of both of you.”- Robin

Brooks was laying on your chest. Joe sat closely next to you

“We better get going. It’s getting dark.”- Your dad

“Some with us here, hun.”- Robin

“I’ll walk you guys out.”- Joe

Joe gets up to give hugs

Both parents come over to say their goodbyes to you and to brooks

As the door closes there is complete silence. Joe walks back over.

He sighs as he sits back down.

“I’m proud of you.”- joe

You look at him

“It’s a lot, especially having to deal with the parents. You’re the best mom, y/n. I hope you know that.”- Joe

You felt a tear streaming down

“Thank you, Joey. That means more to me than you think.”- you

“Of course, baby. Don’t cry.”- Joe

You rest your head on his shoulder as he wipes your tear.

The end.