#metal imagines

[jimsbeetroot]

I WANT SID SMUT PLEASE 😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐬 ♱ 𝐬𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧

since sid is a whole ass dad now, here’s some fluffy, domestic, vanilla smut, because why not?

words; 2113

summary; sid and reader enjoy a quiet morning together, seizing the moment before their baby awakes

warnings! fingering, dirty talk (but make it fluffy) a sickly happy family hehe

-

THE SOFT MORNING LIGHT filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the bedroom. You blinked awake, slowly registering the warmth and comfort of the bed beneath you. For a moment, you wondered what had stirred you from sleep—until you heard it.

“Love?”

Sid’s voice was a gentle murmur. You turned your head, your heart fluttering at the sight of him. He was sitting up in bed, propped against the pillows, his hair slightly tousled, his face illuminated by the early light. He wasn’t watching television like he sometimes did in the mornings. Instead, his focus was entirely on you, a smile playing on his lips as he watched you stir.

You opened your eyes more fully, feeling the remnants of sleep slip away. The clock on the nightstand read 07:53. You blinked again, and a wave of realization hit you—it was late, and the house was eerily quiet.

No cries, no baby babble, no rustling sounds from the nursery.

Sid’s smile widened as he noticed the look of surprise on your face. “He’s still asleep,” Sid whispered as if saying it too loudly might shatter the fragile peace of the morning.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you found yourself smiling back at him. It was such a rare gift these days—mornings where you didn’t wake to the sound of your seven-month-old son needing you. You loved him more than words could say, but moments like these, when you could just be with Sid, were precious. And you both knew it.

“Good morning, my love,” Sid said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. He shifted closer, his body heat seeping into you as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his embrace. The sensation of his bare chest against your skin was intoxicating, familiar yet always thrilling.

“Good morning,” you whispered back, your voice soft and still heavy with sleep. You nuzzled into him, inhaling his scent, a mix of warmth and something distinctly Sid that you could never quite describe. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if he couldn’t get enough of the simple contact. He held you close, his arm strong and protective around you, and you let yourself relax completely into his hold. For a few blissful moments, you simply lay there, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten.

“I can’t believe he’s still asleep,” you murmured, your words muffled against Sid’s chest.

“I know,” Sid replied, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your back. “It’s like a miracle.”

You giggled softly and gazed up at Sid with a smirk. “We should probably enjoy it while it lasts.”

Sid chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made your heart skip a beat. “Oh, I plan to,” he said, his voice dropping an octave as his hand slid down to rest on your hip, his touch sending a jolt of anticipation through you.

You felt a surge of affection for him, this man who had become not only your husband but the father of your child, your partner in every sense of the word. The past months had been a whirlwind—nights spent soothing a crying baby, mornings filled with laughter and the occasional tear, the constant balancing act of parenthood. But through it all, Sid had been your rock, your steady anchor.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and the love in his gaze was enough to make your heart swell. He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that was both tender and full of promise. You sighed into the kiss, your body responding instantly to the warmth and familiarity of his touch.

Sid’s hand slid under the hem of your shorts, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of your thigh. His touch was light, teasing, and you couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you. It had been a while since you’d had the luxury of a slow morning like this, where you could take your time and savour each other.

As if sensing your thoughts, Sid deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips to explore your mouth with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made your toes curl. You moaned softly, your body pressing closer to his as you melted into the kiss.

Sid’s hand moved higher, slipping under your shorts to caress your skin. His fingers skimmed the curve of your stomach, lingering for a moment on the slight softness that remained from your pregnancy. He didn’t seem to mind—in fact, his touch was reverent, as if he loved every inch of you just as you were.

“You’re so beautiful,” Sid murmured against your lips, his voice filled with sincerity. “God, I can’t get enough of you.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased, running your hand over his broad shoulders, down the hard planes of his chest.

Sid’s breath hitched as your fingers brushed over his chest, and you could feel the tension coiling in his muscles as he tried to maintain control.

“Do you remember our first morning together after he was born?” Sid asked suddenly, his voice husky with emotion. “We were both so tired, but we just laid there, holding him between us, staring at him like he was the most amazing thing we’d ever seen.”

You nodded, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as you remembered that moment. It had been magical—exhausting, overwhelming, but magical. And now, seven months later, you still couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have this little family with Sid.

“I do remember,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I never knew I could love anyone as much as I love you and him.”

Sid’s eyes softened, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I feel the same way,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “Every day with you and our little guy… it’s like a dream come true.”

Your heart swelled with love, and you reached up to cup his face in your hands, pulling him down for another kiss. This one was slower, more tender as if you were both savoring the connection you shared. Sid responded eagerly, his lips moving against yours in a dance that was familiar yet always exciting.

As the kiss deepened, Sid’s hand moved to the hem of your shorts, slowly pushing it up until it was bunched around your waist. You shivered as the cool air brushed against your skin, but the warmth of Sid’s body more than made up for it.

He broke the kiss to look down at you, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you laid out beneath him. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. You blushed, your heart racing at the intensity of his gaze. “Sid…”

He didn’t say anything else, just leaned down to capture your lips in another searing kiss, his hand moving between your thighs to tease you through your underwear. You gasped into his mouth, your body arching towards his touch, the slow burn of arousal spreading through you.

Sid’s fingers found your clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles that had you moaning in seconds. “Fuck,” you whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand as the pleasure built, each stroke of his fingers sending sparks of electricity through you.

He watched you with hooded eyes, his breathing ragged as he continued to tease you, his other hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple. The dual sensations were overwhelming, and you felt yourself quickly spiralling towards the edge.

“Please,” you gasped, your voice breathless as you looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Sid, I need you…”

Sid groaned at your words, his cock twitching against your thigh as he leaned down to capture your lips in another kiss. “God, you're amazing,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice filled with urgency.

With one swift motion, he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and slid them down your legs, tossing them to the floor. You gasped as the cool air hit your heated core, but Sid quickly replaced the sensation with the warmth of his hand, his fingers sliding between your folds to coat them in your arousal.

“You’re so wet,” Sid whispered, his voice thick with desire as he continued to tease you, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate strokes that had you squirming beneath him. He smiled at you and watched carefully how you reacted to his every touch.

You whimpered, your body arching towards his touch as you felt the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core. “Sid, please…”

He smiled down at you, his eyes filled with love and lust as he finally slid one finger inside you, his touch gentle yet firm. You gasped, your hips lifting off the bed as he began to move, his finger curling inside you to hit that perfect spot that had you seeing stars.

Sid watched you intently, his eyes never leaving your face as he added a second finger, stretching you just enough to make you moan. “You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe as he watched you writhe beneath him. “So fucking good.”

You could barely form a coherent thought, the pleasure building inside you like a tidal wave, threatening to crash over you at any moment. “Sid,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need.

Sid’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk as he watched the pleasure ripple across your face, but just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you breathless and yearning for his touch.

Your eyes followed his movements as he shed his boxers, revealing his hard cock, and your heart skipped a beat in anticipation. Sid crawled on top of you and positioned himself above you, his elbows braced on either side of your face as he dipped down to kiss you deeply, the passion between you igniting into something hotter, more urgent.

“Ready?” Sid asked, his voice a mixture of tenderness and desire as he lined himself up at your entrance. You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips as you cupped his face, your thumb brushing over his stubbled jaw.

“I’m ready,” you whispered, the words barely leaving your lips before Sid began to ease into you, his thick length stretching you. Even after all these years together, the sensation of his cock in you still made you weak, and you couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped you.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your fingers digging into his bicep as you looked up into his eyes, finding nothing but love and lust staring back at you. Sid nuzzled your face affectionately, his lips grazing the tip of your nose in a sweet gesture.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his concern evident even as his own need for you pulsed between your bodies. You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the overwhelming pleasure of having him so close, so intimately entwined with you. Sid began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one sending a wave of pleasure through you. But as the intensity built, his movements became more urgent, more desperate, and you clung to him as if he were your lifeline.

“Fuck, you're good,” Sid groaned, his voice thick with emotion as he buried his face in your hair, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps. “So fucking good.”

Your body trembled beneath him, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak, and when he finally pushed you over the edge, you cried out his name, your voice filled with nothing but pure, unadulterated bliss. Sid followed you seconds later, his own release coming with a deep, satisfied moan that seemed to reverberate through your entire being.

Exhausted and content, Sid waited a few moments before pulling out of you gently and collapsing onto his back beside you. You lay there for a moment, both of you catching your breath, the reality of the moment slowly settling in.

Sid reached for you again, drawing you into his arms in a tender embrace, his body curving around yours protectively. “How did I get so lucky?” he murmured, his voice full of wonder as he held you close, his breath warm against the back of your neck.

[ch4p3lofbl00d]

Y/N✨- RICHARD WHAT DID YOU DO MY PIZZA?!

Raccon King🖤🥀- What? I didn't do anything

Y/N✨- Then why is there no pizza in the freezer? 🙁

Raccon King🖤🥀- I.. umm threw them out and gave them to the guys.

Y/N✨- I'm divorcing you 😔

Raccon King🖤🥀- What? No babe! Pls

Y/N✨ changed Racoon King🖤🥀 to Ex💔

Ex💔- You changed my contact name? 😭 Pls don't divorce me

Y/N✨- fine, but you better get your ass up and get me more pizza Horror

Y/N✨ changed Ex💔 to Hot Mf Olson🥀

Hot Mf Olson🥀- hey, I think I like this contavt name better than the last one! I'll be right back babe! I gotta go get your pizzas!

I hope you enjoyed reading :3 🥀

[artificialchaoscola]

rivals.

[astrhae]

crowley used the metal tool in season 1 to start time, and we learn that he's used it first to start space. to create the stars -- he still remembers how. he still remembers all of heaven's passwords: in the book crowley is described as an optimist because he has the "utter surety... that the universe would look after him". not god, but the universe. and of course he does: he helped create it and he's looking after it, too.

think about it: aziraphale had a sword, but crowley is about to face satan who wants to destroy the world, and crowley's only weapon is a tool of creation

[trannyposting]

You're Listening to

*pickle jar opens refreshingly*

102.3

*communist theme song*

TRANSFEM RADIO!

*meow*

WHERE WE PLAY NOTHING BUT SAD FOLK MUSIC, METAL, AND HYPERPOP

*moaning and cartoon running sound effect simultaneously*

THIS ISN'T YOUR DEADNAME'S STATION

*Radioactive- Imagine Dragons starts playing*

[steddietogo]

Metal head musician Eddie Munson’s black cat Strider who loves pop music and screams at Eddie every time he picks up his electric guitar.

Strider’s favorite is pop princess Steve Harrington’s newest album. Eddie knows each song word for word (he’ll never admit it)

[bisclavaret]

holds him like a coke can

[allexonspace]

Consolation Prize

[samodivaa]

Bucky x Reader : He holds you in a metal chokehold while fucking you from behind. (smut, choking)

He is sick with conflict, possessive emotions fester in him while he molds his front to your back, his cock nudges around your ass cheeks, to your sleek mound until he gasps as he guides his sticky cockhead glides through your delicate folds. He doesn’t say anything as he slips inside you, burying himself to the hilt. There is a certain satisfaction in pounding you from behind as the metal arm tightens around your nape, holding you close to him. Your walls are squelching around as you hear him murmur his voice as sweet and rich as honey. And his lusty grin when he says curses in Russian, it is sinful���and pleasurable, drawing a muffled scream from your throat as he starts to thrust more rapidly, setting a demanding rhythm.

Your sexual attraction to him has been heightened beyond measure, as much as you try to hide it, the lust is getting greater than any other feeling or emotion. Every part of him is heightened to you now...his voice included—you can’t help it as your body reacts to the stimulation, head spinning as you barely get a sip of oxygen despite your gasping.

It’s the closest thing to magic for him—teeth dragging against your neck, living marks, his consciousness vanishing and deforming itself into something primal, there is a delicious animal fire in his gaze which he is glad that you can’t see.

He flexes his human fingers and tries to fight the urge to stop rubbing your clit—but then his fingers slithers over your chest, warm digits immediately finding your breasts and he starts to massage them for his own pleasure. It is a possessive gesture, and he feels a little bit possessive—but he needs to keep his fingers on your clit, rubbing, pinching the sensitive bud between his fingers. So he does. He imagines the sinful sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out, only to slam himself back inside. You grip his metal arm which is gutting your vocal chords, and all you manage is a small gasp. When he loosens his grip, the rush of blood and oxygen to the brain results in an explosion of dopamine, followed by a shamelessly loud moan from your lips. “That’s it, doll—you like this?”  His voice is warm and low. Intimate.

You catch sight of him from your peripheral vision, his eyes closed, his lips are silent, but he chatters with his fingertips, with the way his hand massages your clit, the way he fucks you. And you thought that he chose that position, because he is embarrassed from fulfilling your idea, but he is not—he wants to disguise from you how much he is enjoying himself. His expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure—breathless, possessed, lost in the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight. Your pussy cradles around his dick as he pounds into you from behind. It is an igniting feeling to have so much control over your body. “I love you, but I want you all to myself” His hand closes around your neck again, slowly cutting into your skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. His growls erupt from his chest, the primal noise flooding your senses, making your insides clench around his length. Your back arches as you feel an orgasm approaching, letting out a desperate moan, because you’re powerless…utterly at his mercy and that’s what makes you cum—his voice sends shudders through your body, reacting in all the right ways to the words. “Bucky-”

The moment you say his name, he is lost. Can’t control himself. You are his. Nobody else's. With that thought on his brain he let himself go. Frantically, he slams into you and you meet every thrust head-on, human fingers gripping your hip so tightly that phantom bruises appear. 

[toorvu]

Panicked bravery

[joelsbloodyhands]

Mine

Din Djarin x Reader, The Mandalorian x Reader

Summary: Your employer is pissed when you come back from getting information about a bounty with a bruised hand mark around your neck.

A/N: I kinda just wrote this one because I had a vague idea and ran with it. I think everyone is going to learn very quickly in my writing that clearly jealous/overprotective Din is my fave version of him 🙈

Warnings: reader gets choked and not in the nice way (only talks about it), overprotective Din, Din is your employer but clearly wants to be more, death and m!rder (all in the name of love) 🤗, mentions of blood and bodily harm, mentions of slave traders, fluff with a little bit of spice✨, soft!Din but also a little bit reckless!Din 👀 smut references but not written too explicitly but still MINORS DNI, business associates to lovers arc? 😅 not set at any particular point during the series.

READER does not have a specified gender, they/them pronouns used. Reader does not have a visible disability.

You’d been gone too long and Din was getting anxious.

This hadn’t been his original plan.

The contact for information regarding the bounty had unfortunately been highlighted as a previous foe of his. He’d busted them prior when their bounty puck had fell in his lap over a cycle ago.

Trust Karga to let the man redeem himself by providing intel on high-level bounties with the incentive of remaining out of the hands of the Rebellion that for some reason unbeknownst to Din, wanted his head on a stick.

Why had Din let you go and barter for the information again?

“He won’t suspect me to be a threat.”

Oh right, yeah. That’s what you said.

Except Din was probably worrying about the wrong thing because the biggest threat would be the ex-criminal you were meeting with at Mos Espa Cantina.

“Go say hi to Boba for me. Get the boy fed and I’ll be back soon.”

Din was losing his edge.

On what kriffin planet did he give in to such a request?

You were in danger and he knew it.

He knew it and he still sat in the markets with Grogu, twirling wupiupi coins in his fingers for the past half hour while his son slurped another bowl of pog soup.

Why?

Well, that was easy.

Since the past year you had been travelling with him, Din had grown to have affections for you.

To start he kept you at arms length.

Brief answers to your curious questions turned into nightly talks between your bunks. Subtle touches to guide you through busy and sometimes treacherous places turned into lingering holds in his grasp, fear of losing you to the crowds. He found himself watching you far longer than he ever had before and during times when he didn’t necessarily need to. The sound of you using the fresher while he tucked in his little green son had his heart pounding and a certain area of his armor feeling a little bit too uncomfortable.

He grew more and more protective the further you strayed without him.

He no longer wished for you to venture into dens alone to ask for information on his behalf but he couldn’t deny that you were good at it.

Better than him.

You were calm and collected.

You had a level head.

Something that he could very easily lose control over should Grogu and yourself be threatened by a contact. Though it was the one thing you had learned you could assert yourself over since Din’s change of heart.

You had a job that needed to be done and you were the best person for it.

So Din caved far quicker than he normally would with allowing you to go the cantinas and talk about bounties, pay and information. It sped up the process for Din to track them and also meant he didn’t have to deal with the unwanted chit chat that came with meeting up with Karga.

Something you enjoyed. Something that had Din’s palms itching whenever Karga took your hand to help you stand from the booth, Din’s clenched fist aching to wipe the smug look of his face when he turned back in his direction.

“I like her, Mando. She’s good at getting what she wants.”

He knew you were.

Din wasn’t sure if he was included on the list of things you wanted but you sure as hell were on his.

There was times he had a inkling.

Especially when he was feeding the kid and he caught you looking away when his eyes found you scraping away at your lunch.

Times when you would grab his hand without hesitation and pull him through midnight markets towards the sights of fireworks. Din’s heart warming at the wide smile plastered across your face, the powdery shades of red, blue and green lighting up in your eyes from the sky.

Damn, he was down bad and he had no idea what to do about it.

Technically, he was your employer.

Juggling Grogu and his job was a difficulty. Most of the time he was happy to venture out with Grogu in his carrier or pod but his bounties got, let’s say, brave in their efforts to deter him. Going so far as to aim shots towards the child. They learned his weakness and Din hated it.

So with much reluctance to start, he asked Peli if she would be interested in babysitting him for a price but of course she refused; even with the money on the table.

“Not a chance but I know just the person for the job.”

He had slid the money off the table and walked back to the ship without another word until she scrambled after him.

“Hey, hey, hey! Just hear me out, okay?” Din had sighed, turning back to her from the top of the ramp while she stood hands on her hips and a smile growing. “There’s this kid that needs a job. Call ‘em a distant relative, if you will. They’re desperate. Need money, board, food, water and they’ll make sure your little boy is taken good care of. I swear!”

“Have they taken care of children before?” Din asked inquisitively but also with a half mind to ignore Peli completely and close the ramp in response to her proposal.

“Yeah! Loads of times! They’re a professional!”

Din doubted that very much. He knew Peli’s tactics for selling him an offer and he couldn’t deny that she was good at it.

Fine, he’ll bite. Again.

“Call them.”

He just remembers Peli’s grin, your soft voice on the end of a comlink and then a speeder sounding just outside.

She had presented you to him like a rare gift and he was less than happy to receive you at the time but more than a few rotations later, you had thrown yourself in front of a bounty that had tried to commandeer his ship, their blaster aimed for Grogu in his bunk, taking a graze to the side before Din shot him dead.

You were willing to die to protect his son.

That was more than he could’ve ever asked for.

Later when Din was back at the Crest, you returned.

He had spent the past hours pacing up and down the ramp like a mad man.

Originally, he had planned to detour from the markets with Grogu over to the cantina but you had used your comlink to tell him you were already near the ship.

That was interesting because Din got back to the ship and you weren’t even here.

Which begs the question, why did you lie that you were already nearby?

Maybe he was being paranoid. His fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly, stressing about your whereabouts and the obvious reason as to why he was so stressed to begin with.

So when he’d heard your footsteps up the ramp, your voice calling for Grogu, you were both surprised to see the other staring back.

“Where have you been?” Din questioned gently but you sensed an underlining annoyance to his tone.

“I detoured, sorry,” you sheepishly smiled, holding up a bag of frog meat. “I saw a vendor selling this and I knew Grogu would be happy about it. Not to mention,” you brush past him, eyes focused solely on the sleeping child snuggling into his hammock on Din’s bunk, “it would be nice to see him not eat a whole frog for once.”

You laugh and it eases Din.

Of course he was just being paranoid.

“And the contact?” He says and you remain with your back to him, reaching your hand in carefully to tug the blanket over Grogu’s body. “He give us what we need?”

“He did,” you respond and Din satisfied, presses the button to bring up the ramp and close the hatch. The sound of it whirring so loud, in need of some oiling so much so that you had probably thought he missed your quiet words.

“What was that?” His helmet turns your way when the hatch closes with a loud creak.

“I said, somewhat.”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t being paranoid after all.

Din feels his nerves wash over him, noticing how you’re not even turning around as you address him. He takes you in. You don’t seem discomforted, angry or emotional. You’re incredibly calm.

Though that was worrying.

Normally, you came back from having debriefs with the informants with a story to tell.

“It was quite scary actually. They had this wookie with them but then you’ll never believe this guy! Stood there, blaster in hand, immense glare in his face, goes and shoves a fist in his satchel, I’m ready to throw hands and I shit you not, Din…wookie pulls out a cookie and starts crunching away at it!”

“Have you ever met a Gungan, Din? I think they’re my favourite people I’ve ever met. I mean they were all like, yousa follow us now, okeyday? Seriously! Oh gooberfish! I love them!”

“What do you mean by somewhat?”

You sigh.

This wasn’t good.

“I’m sorry, Din. They gave us the last location. I think that’s the most important thing.”

“What about if they’re solo or run with a crew? We need to know what we’re walking into, otherwise we could get bombarded the moment we land.”

This wasn’t a simple bounty. This guy was one of the worst out there.

A slave trader.

It angered Din to even think about it.

“Something happened,” he doesn’t let you tip-toe around the subject. “What are you not telling me?”

You fall silent and that’s enough for him.

Something did happen and what’s worse, you don’t want to tell him.

He moves towards you and you turn on your heel, ready to protest. Din had only meant to just embrace your shoulder gently to ease you into a conversation he thought you needed to have but the slightest wince had him drawing back almost immediately.

With his steps halted in front of you, the air cold, the crest filled with silence, Din’s visor drops instinctively to your neck.

Was it getting cool? Sure, when it was getting late. Though right now, it was still early afternoon and you never wore a scarf in Mos Espa outside the settlement and in the dunes.

“Did he touch you?”

Din has to bite back the growl threatening to crackle through his modulator.

Your head drops, eyes on the floor and the look of regret on your features make Din pray to the Maker that he’ll kill the man just for the expression on your face.

Then you unravel the scarf and Din wastes no time.

His hand had pulled your collar back gently, his shoulders stiffening at the purpled marks there.

You grimaced before trying for a smile but he sees the way your eyes plead with his, “Before you ask, it looks worse than it feels. I’m fine, Din. Let’s just go.”

He remembers you calling his name after that.

Only once because you knew as you watched him brush past you, grabbing two vibroblades from his armoury and charging down the steps towards the town, that there was nothing you could say to stop him.

And you were right because less than five minutes later, Din’s blades were impaled on the informants hands, stapling him indefinitely to the table at the cantina while onlookers ran completely, hid or dropped their heads from his view.

Then his gloved hands were on his throat, squeezing the life out of him.

An eye for an eye.

You hadn’t explained why the man had strangled you and it was pointless anyway.

He had no right to touch you.

To hell with Karga.

He’d lose an informant but that informant chose to fuck with what was his and that was worth more than any information.

When Din felt the life leave him, he dropped a number of credits to the table, looked up at the barman and walked away. His last words being, “you can keep those,” shrugging his shoulder towards the blades on the way out.

Now back at the ship, you sit rigidly on the bunk while Din gently swipes a lotion of bacta over your wound with a cotton wipe.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.”

Your eyes flicker to his visor and you know he’s evading your gaze.

You sigh and for a moment, he think you’re not going to reply until your hands gently take his, stopping him from tending to you.

He lifts his visor then, meeting your concerned eyes, your fingers intertwined with his on your lap.

“I can handle myself. You know that, right?”

Oh. So that’s what this was?

You were worried he thought you incompetent to end up in this circumstance?

Of course you would think that. He’s your employer. You only want to deliver good work for him.

That’s not all this is anymore though and Din can’t pretend and let you go on feeling like a failure especially with the tears dancing on your waterlines.

“You are very capable, mesh’la but-“ Din sighs.

How can he even begin to explain to you that he’s more angry at himself for not protecting you like he’s supposed to?

Kriff, you’re not even a bounty hunter. Trained to use a blaster as a novice, he noticed how you flinched whenever you’ve had to pull the trigger on his behalf. You’re at your calmest when you’re rocking the small boy before bed, singing lullabies to him in a hushed tone probably so Din couldn’t hear. You had no idea that he stood just above the ladder to the cockpit and listened.

You were ethereal and he couldn’t get enough of you.

That’s why it made his hands shake to even think that anyone would harm you.

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts, he misses the way your eyes widen at the term of endearment he let slip and the quick gesture as you shake yourself from how affected you are by it.

“I just…” you break through his racing thoughts, his eyes latching onto your dipped chin, eyes shadowed in the corner of the docking port, just outside his bunk. You look solemn but rather than feel dread, Din’s heart stills when he notices the flush of pink across your features.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were nervous.

“I just want to be able to do more for you.”

The words play on a loop, almost like they’re colliding against the inside of Din’s helmet, repeatedly soaring through his ears again and again.

“I want to be more useful for you. Ya know?”

Useful? You think you’re not already useful?

“Sometimes I just feel like I have more to offer. I know you brought me in to be a babysitter but I can be more than that. For you.”

Was the carbonite freezing system failing or was it getting hotter in the crest?

Din felt like he needed to tug the shroud off from around his neck. The air was suffocating.

“Please say something?” Your small voice says quietly.

“You are more to me than you will ever understand, cya’rika.”

Your eyes meet his then.

Well, his visor at least and Din curses his creed for having him hide his face at a time when he wants- no needs you to see how much he means what he says.

You’re silent but the increasing rouge of your cheeks is enough to see that you understand him and that perhaps there was some truth in his suspicions.

You felt for him just as much as he felt for you.

“Din…”

And just like that, his eyes roll back momentarily hearing his name leave your tongue like a pleading prayer.

He couldn’t pretend like you weren’t affecting him too.

He needed you to know.

“Get in the bunk, ner kar’ta.”

Your body stills a moment in surprise and you don’t move.

Maybe he misjudged or maybe he’s being too forward but then you stand and without taking your eyes away from him, you seat yourself on the side of his bunk.

Waiting for him.

Waiting for further instruction just like you’ve been doing ever since you walked onto his ship.

One thing he realised he misjudged.

All those times you obeyed every command, it was never out of the need for his money.

You never questioned him, never refused an order but with Din and the matter of Grogu’s safety, it was never a request and that’s all it was to start.

It was just a matter of his sons safety until he realised he loved you too.

Din stands and steps in front of you, you look up at him as he tugs the shroud from around his neck loose.

He notices how your eyes drop to his waist, evading the reveal of his tanned skin while you’re positioned below him. He wraps the material a couple of times before placing the fabric over your eyes.

You don’t move.

You don’t flinch.

You just allow him to remove one of your senses, leaving nothing but darkness over your sight. His heart aches at the trust you have in him, allowing him to render you vulnerable before him.

He ties it behind your head, making sure it’s not too tight as to hurt you.

He’s not the same type of man as the monster from earlier today.

His fingers itch at the memory and he shrugs his gloves off, setting his bare fingers against the cold metal of his helmet.

You await patiently and he watches as you jerk your head slightly at the familiar sound of his helmet releasing.

The sound you’ve only ever heard from a nearby room, hiding away from him when you brought him supper.

You await patiently while Din removes each piece of armor, setting it aside.

Then there’s just silence.

Until you hear his knees hit the ground in front of you and a warm breath hits your neck, a shudder running up your spine.

“Is it okay if I show you something?”

His whispers hit your ear drum in the most delightful way.

You nod dreamily.

Then you feel rough, warm lips graze your neck.

If heaven was travelling at light-speed through space, it was right here and now with Din’s lips travelling along your jawline, mapping out the path to seal against your lips. He tugs gently, coaxing you out of the shy shell you had created when you realised the butterflies he made you feel when you first met had more to do with how attracted you were to him than to how intimidating most people found him.

Every step he took on each planet you travelled, Din carried a powerful aura that most people cowered away from but it only drew you to him more.

You knew Din was strong.

You knew not many could beat him in a fight, yourself included but that was the whole point.

Din would never abuse his strength over you.

Ever.

Though, you wish he would, in special circumstances.

Like right now.

“How do you feel, cya’re?” Din inquires breathlessly, lips pressing soft kisses down your throat while you bite back the urge to be vocal.

“I wish we’d done this sooner,” you say uneasily, your hands gripping the bunk below you.

Din’s chuckle hits your ear, reverberating against your ear drum exquistively.

“Din?” He hears your voice rattle with every nestle of his lips stroking over your skin.

“Yes, mesh’la?” He raises his head, lips brushing the underside of your jaw, watching your lips turn up into a small smirk. Though you couldn’t see his expression returning yours, his adoring smile awaited your next words patiently.

“You killed him, didn’t you?”

You feel a thumb smooth over your bottom lip.

“He deserved it,” you shake your head slightly, fighting away an amused smile on your lips that he quickly wipes away, replacing with an expression of longing when his lips meet your ear.

“You’re mine.”

[jimsbeetroot]

𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 ♱ 𝐣𝐢𝐦 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐭

warnings! mentions of stress and panic attacks!

words; 2741

in which Jim comforts stressed reader

-

In the hours you’d spent in the library, you must've dozed off at least ten times. Not for long, but enough to wake up confused and demented each time.

Considering how much you hated the library, it was strange how it was the place, out of all places, where you could ever truly concentrate.

The shelves were always dusty, and the place was usually a little crowded with students, like yourself, who’d come to study for exams.

You looked out of the window and sighed. There was a heavy downpour. The October sky was grey, and the sun was gone. You pouted at the depressing sight and took a sip of your coffee.

You flipped a page in your book, pushed your glasses further up your nose and yawned. Your whole body screamed at you, begging you for a break, but you ignored your achy neck and tired eyes and continued to push through the exhaustion.

You’d had studied non-stop for weeks on end.

You were two exams away from achieving your Master Of Science degree, and you’d worked your ass off to get it.

It had taken you four long years of hard work and dedication, volunteering and working long hours, and finally, you were almost there. The end was so near that you almost could taste it, yet it felt so far away.

You looked up from your page and sighed.

The stack of books was getting smaller, just two left before you could pack your bags and leave.

It was getting dark outside, and the library was slowly clearing out. After all: Who would want to spend their Friday night in a library?

You felt like a complete loser and wondered what your friends were doing. They were probably all out clubbing, actually having fun and enjoying themselves. You’d declined them so many times, they’d probably just stopped asking, knowing the answer would be no.

You weren’t boring. You were fun. You used to be, anyway. You wondered if you, at times, prioritized your studying a tad too much. Your friends allowed themselves to have fun and still, their grades were top-tier.

Maybe you were the problem? What if you didn't even pass the exam? What if you didn't really want this anyways?

You shook your head and held your breath behind pursed lips in an attempt to make sense of the words on your book page, but it had all begun to look like gibberish.

Your eyes were droopy, and as you reached for your coffee, which had gone cold, you heard someone call out your name.

"Y/N?"

The deep voice voice echoed through the library. Your head shot up and there he was. Motorcycle helmet in hand, smiling at you like a kid on Christmas. Your Jim.

He began walking closer until he stood right beside you.

“Hey, darling,” he smiled and crouched down.

He placed a hand on your back, and you looked at him with a tired gaze. He kissed your cheek and rubbed the spot on your back, that had been aching from sitting slouched down for so long.

“Why are you here?” You asked and attempted to sound as polite as possible.

“I wanted to pick you up after work,” Jim smiled. He grabbed your hand, which was resting on the table and squeezed it gently. “I’ll drive you back to your place. I could spend the night?”

You smiled tiredly and watched Jim’s eyes fill with hope, guilt spreading in your veins, knowing you had to let him down.

“I can’t, Jim. I’m sorry. I’ll take the bus later,” you declined and watched as Jim raised his eyebrow in confusion.

You looked down and retrieved your focus back to reading, hoping for him to leave, although it sounded terrible.

“It’s 11 on a Friday night, Y/N. You’re not taking the bus,” Jim stated. He couldn’t tell if you were pulling his leg or not.

“How about we just go to your place and you can come back tomorrow?” Jim suggested. The two of you had an agreement since you hadn’t moved in together despite being together for three years. You spent one week at your place, then one week at his. You two were looking for a house though. You just hadn’t wanted to move while being in school.

Jim stood up from his crouched position. “I brought your helmet. It’s out by the bike,” Jim said.

He grabbed your hand in an attempt to help you up from your chair, but you didn’t budge.

“I can’t, James,” you uttered through curled lips. Your voice was shaky, and eyes from your fellow students had begun darting in your direction. You were embarrassed by Jim’s sudden appearance and even more by the fact that you were refusing him. You caught the stare of one guy, who looked worried for your safety. You’d been worried too if you’d seen a massive biker dude with tattoos everywhere trying to bring a girl home from the library. Jim’s hand was still on your arm even though you were sinking deeper into your chair to get away from him.

“I need to study,” you stated and finally escaped Jim’s grip.

“Y/N, I’m not leaving without you.”

“Then have fun watching me study all night,” you scoffed and adjusted yourself.

“You’ve studied enough today. You need a break,” Jim scolded. You cringed at the tone of his voice. He hardly ever got angry, but when he did, it wasn’t very pleasant at all.

Jim leaned down again, one hand on the table, the other wrapping around the back of your neck. He didn’t squeeze or hold you tightly. He just held you there.

"I'll catch a bus later. It’s fine," you repeated and stiffened up, trying to regain your concentration again.

A sigh left Jim’s lips and you could tell, that he wasn’t budging, just as you weren’t. “Listen, I’ll go home when I’m done, alright?”

You noticed that more heads were starting to turn in the library.

“Not alright, Y/N. I can’t rest if I know, you’re here alone. Please, for my peace of mind,” Jim pleaded.

He was only worried, and you knew that. He understood that you took your job as a scientist seriously, and he respected it.

He’d never gotten angry at you for missing out on dates, or even birthdays. But when he started noticing changes in your day-to-day routine, he’d gotten to get concerned. You weren’t eating as much and you’d depended on caffeine as your only source of energy.

“Listen, you’ve been here for hours. You’re not even absorbing anything at this point. Your eyes are tired and you need rest,” Jim told you.

Didn’t know he’d become a doctor.

You shook your head, exhaustion momentarily forgotten as frustration took its place. “I’m not going, Jim,” you huffed.

Jim’s jaw tightened and he reached out to close the book in front of you.

“I don’t want you to take the bus alone this late,” Jim told you. You sighed. “Now, if you don’t want to get on the bike, I’ll drive home and get the truck instead. No problem. Just let me know,” Jim said. Internally, you smiled at his utter desperation to get you home to your apartment. Externally, your huff remained and your eyes rolled.

“The matter of transportation is not my issue here, Jim,” you scoffed. “I can’t rest if I don’t finish these books. So, please, just let me study,” you begged. The battle seemed endless. You were both so goddamn stubborn. It was a miracle you’d lasted together.

“No,” he said firmly, his patience wearing thin. “You’re coming with me now. I’m not leaving here without you.”

Your hands clenched into fists on the table. “I am not a child, Jim. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m not saying you can’t, but I don’t like the idea of you being alone out here at night,” he replied, his protective instincts taking over and making him more stubborn.

You could feel the tension escalating, and the last thing you wanted was to make a scene. But you also couldn’t let Jim bully you into leaving before you were ready. “Jim, please. I need to do this. Just give me another hour. One hour and I’m done, I promise.”

Jim rubbed his face, clearly torn between respecting your wishes and getting you the hell out of that library. “Y/N, you’re exhausted. You’re not doing yourself any favours. Just pack up and we’ll talk about this at home.”

Your frustration boiled over. “Why can’t you just leave me alone right now?”

More heads turned and you felt a flush of embarrassment. Your voice was shaky and tears had started forming in your eyes. You were so tired, but you couldn’t let yourself sleep. You needed this.

Jim’s expression hardened and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, serious tone.

“If you don’t come with me right now, I swear to God, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here myself.”

His threats sounded empty, but looking at Jim’s face, he was absolutely- and undeniably serious. Your pride and determination were deterred when Jim suddenly bent down and reached for you. You realised that he was totally planning on carrying you out of that library.

“I’ll walk, alright?” You snapped and huffed in annoyance. Your cheeks burned in a mix of humiliation and annoyance. You looked up at Jim and rolled your eyes in pure rage. You picked up your heavy stack of books and pushed them against Jim’s chest, so he could carry them.

Jim knew he’d made the right call, and he didn’t really care if you were angry with him. He was glad he’d gotten you out of there, despite your frustrations.

You put on your jacket and you walked through the silent library, Jim following closely behind.

The air was cold and damp as you made your way towards the parking lot, where you had spotted Jim’s motorcycle. Your helmet was hung around one of the handlebars and you grabbed it and stepped aside as Jim fumbled with your books, trying to stuff them into your bag. He grabbed your bag from your shoulder and slung it across his chest, the weight settling in front of him.

Jim mounted the bike, the engine rumbling to life beneath him. “Come on,” Jim said, his voice cutting through the tension.

You stood there, arms crossed defiantly over your chest. “No,” you buzzed. You loved riding but you really just needed some space. Space from Jim. Space to cool down.

His patience was running thin, you could tell by the way he looked up at the sky as if to pray for the lord to give him strength.

“Please-“ he trailed. “-You’re tired, and you need to get some rest, so just get on the bike.”

You hesitated and glared at him, but you could see that there was no way he was letting you walk home or take the bus. Your pride deterred and after a few tense moments, you gave in and huffed in exasperation. You grabbed the helmet and put it on.

“I’m only doing this because I’m too tired to fight with you anymore,” you muttered and climbed onto the seat behind Jim, deliberately keeping your distance.

Jim didn’t respond but surely, he could feel your reluctance as you sat stiffly behind him, your hands gripping the edge of the seat rather than reaching for him.

He sighed, knowing you were trying to make a point. Without a word, he reached back and grabbed your wrists, firmly but gently wrapping your arms around his waist. “Hold on,” he said, his voice low and insistent.

You let your arms stay where he’d placed them, but you kept your grip as loose as possible. Jim didn’t press you any further, focusing instead on navigating the quiet streets as you rode home.

The ride was tense and silent, the usual comforting hum of the bike doing nothing to ease the knot of stress in your belly.

You kept your face turned away from Jim’s back, staring at the passing streetlights, your thoughts a whirlwind of anxiety and frustration.

By the time you’d reached your apartment, you were exhausted in every sense of the word. You climbed off the bike as soon as it came to a stop, stepping away from Jim without a word. Jim followed you to the door. He was carrying your books and backpack, but you ignored him, your silence now cold and heavy. You unlocked the door.

Inside, you immediately headed to your room, shutting the door behind you with a soft click. Jim stood in the hallway for a moment, your backpack still slung over his shoulder. He set it down by the door and leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. He knew you needed space, but the tension between you gnawed at him.

In your room, you tried to focus on anything but the lingering anger you felt. You sat on your bed, staring at your notes, but the words blurred together. The pressure of finals, the confrontation with Jim, and the overwhelming fatigue you’d been ignoring all day started to close in on you, your chest tightening with each passing second.

You tried to push it down, to breathe through it, but the panic crept up on you too quickly. Your breath hitched, becoming shallow and rapid. You pressed your hands to your chest, trying to steady yourself, but it only made it worse. Tears welled up in your eyes as the panic attack took hold, your thoughts spiralling out of control.

In the hallway, Jim heard the faint, desperate gasps coming from your room. His heart dropped. He knocked once, but when there was no response, he pushed the door open gently. What he saw shattered his frustration instantly—you were sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands clutched to your chest, tears streaming down your face as you struggled to breathe.

“Y/N,” he said softly, quickly moving to your side. He knelt in front of you, his hands reaching for hers. “Hey, hey, look at me. Breathe, just breathe.”

You shook your head, unable to meet his eyes, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. Jim kept his voice calm and steady, trying to soothe you. “It’s okay, I’m here. Focus on my voice. Deep breaths, okay? In and out, just like that.”

Slowly, you started to follow his lead, your breaths coming a little slower, though they were still shaky. Jim kept his hands on yours, grounding her as she fought to regain control.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his thumb brushing soothingly over your knuckles. “You’re okay. Just keep breathing.”

After what felt like an eternity, your breathing started to even out, the tightness in your chest loosening bit by bit. You blinked through your tears, finally looking at him, your expression filled with a mixture of exhaustion and vulnerability.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I just…everything’s so much right now.”

Jim shook his head, his heart aching at how fragile you looked. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said gently. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard earlier.”

You sniffled, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I just feel like I’m drowning in all this…pressure, and then we argued, and I just—”

“Hey,” he interrupted softly, squeezing your hands. “I’m here, okay? We’ll get through this together. You don’t have to do it all on your own.”

You nodded, your eyes still brimming with tears but feeling a bit of the weight lift now that you weren’t trying to carry it all by yourself. Jim pulled you into a gentle hug, wrapping his arms around you as you leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder.

You sat like that for a while, the tension between you fading as Jim held you, his presence a quiet reassurance that you weren’t alone in this. Eventually, your breathing slowed to a normal rhythm, the panic fully subsiding.

When you finally pulled back, Jim looked at you with a soft, concerned expression. “Do you want to talk about it, or just rest for a bit?”

You shook your head slightly. “I think I just need to sleep.”

Jim nodded, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “Okay. I’ll stay here if you want.”

You gave him a small, grateful smile. “I’d like that.”

The two of you shuffled into the bathroom, watching each other in the mirror as you brushed your teeth.

Jim turned off the lights and you settled into bed together. You cuddled closely into Jim, his long arms embracing you, a comforting feeling washing over you. “You’re not alone, all right? I’ll help you tomorrow even though you’re a hundred times smarter than me.”

You chuckled and looked up, kissing Jim’s lips, finally able to drift off into a deep sleep, knowing you were in good hands.

[ch4p3lofbl00d]

Ash Costello X reader

Y/N Pov

I was impatiently waiting for my girlfriend to be home, she was coming homes after The kiss of Death your. You know the one with In This Moment and Ice Nine Kills. I wish I could have gone with Ash, but I had work to do here in Cali; I missed Ash a shit ton, ofc we FaceTimed and texted each other, but it wasn't the same as holding her in my arms.

I sighed as I laid down in our bed, scrolling through my Instagram feed as I saw pictures of Ash. I smiled, then I heard the keys jingling in the door. I instantly got up and ran to the door and immediately met with my ghoul. I smiled at her gorgeous figure, but I knew that something was off about her.

Then I saw her tear stained face; I frowned and pulled Ash into a hug and kissed her head gently. "Baby.. what's wrong?" I saw Ash shake her head and quickly say "nothing" she pulled out of the hug and walked towards our room and sat down and started crying again.

I followed her, worried that something serious was bothering her. I sat down next to her and pulled her into my arms and wiped her tears away and kissed her head. "What's bothering you my love" I saw Ash look up and say "I missed you and I just thought that you wouldn't wanna see me again"

I shook my head in disbelief and said "I missed you so much more Ash and ofc I would have wanted to see you again. I missed kissing you and seeing you with your messy hair and I missed cuddling you everyday. I missed watching horror movies with you and doing everything with you"

I saw Ash wipe her tears and look at me "I missed that so much Y/N I missed you so much" I smiled and kissed her head, once again and said "now how about we watch Halloween and cuddle?" I saw Ash's beautiful smile poke out and I heard her say "YESSS" I laughed at her excitement and brought her into my arms and cuddle her for the rest of the night <33

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING 🖤🦇

[yellowvixen]

week 31: the velveteen rabbit

if you don't already know it, the velveteen rabbit is an old kid's book about a little boy's toy rabbit who wants to be real. it's told by an older toy that being loved makes toys real, and eventually becomes the boy's favourite toy. a while later the boy gets scarlet fever and it's decided his entire room needs to be disinfected, which requires burning all his things - including the velveteen rabbit. reminiscing on its life with the boy before being burnt, it cries a real tear which summons a fairy. because the boy loved his toy rabbit enough to consider it real, the fairy wants to make it real to everyone, so takes it into the forest and turns it into a real rabbit. the story ends with the boy, now healthy, seeing rabbits in the forest and noticing that one of them has the same markings as his old favourite toy, which makes him happy.

it's a very sweet book and i loved it a lot as a kid! and... well you can maybe see why i drew the velveteen rabbit with metal :]

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Lost Somewhere in Time

A/n: don’t ask where this idea came from but I have like twenty more scenarios with this same plot

You time travelled and James wanted to see how much he improved in fucking you???

Warnings: smut, fingering (f receiving), whiny James, dom James, slight daddy kink, praising, double penetration, overstimulation, size kink, it’s not specified but (younger) James is a virgin, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Part 2

“You’re not fucking doin’ it right.” James said, swatting his younger self on the top of his head. “She’s never gonna cum like that!” He groaned.

You were sitting in young James’s lap, naked, back against his clothed chest. You were in his room, on his bed, the blonds older version sat next to you and watching closely, judging the younger technique.

“At least I can still get it up.” James grumbled, chin resting on your shoulder as he watched what he was doing, rubbing the general area of your cunt with three flattened fingers. It didn’t feel bad, per se, but you were used to the more experienced hands of your silver devil.

James scoffed. “Yeah, that’s not helping you finger her.” The short haired man said while the other rolled his eyes. “Look, one finger and just push it in slow.” He directed, arms crossed over his chest, watching as his younger self grudgingly did as he said.

Your face scrunched as he pushed a finger in. “Daddy.” You whined, looking to the boyfriend you knew.

“I know, I know, sweetheart.” He assured, rubbing your thigh. “Smaller than you’re used to.”

“Bitch!” James yelled, hand snapping -he wanted to slap himself but stopped, remembering he was still with a beautiful woman that he couldn’t wait to call his- and making you moan.

You’re glad you met James when you did, 80’s James was not exactly great with his hands yet, they weren’t thick like you were used to, slim and flimsy. You weren’t wet, but his older counterpart had at least guided him enough to use his spit as lube.

“Do that.” The older said. The younger looked back to you, pushing his finger in and pulling it out a moment later. “Faster, hard and fast, like a guitar.”

“M’not a guitar.” You mumbled, running your hand up the younger arm, amused at his untatted skin. It was a new sight, definitely a fun one.

“I know, but he’s stupid.”

“I’m you!”

“And I was stupid.” Their voices were different, one higher and cleaner, whinier, the other was deeper and raspier, more commanding and dominant, but they both that boyish sunshine to them.

James huffed, brows furrowed in annoyance and frustration. He looked back to you, placing a few kisses on your cheek and jaw, moving down your neck while his wrist repeated the snapping motion until the room filled with your moans.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl.” Older James encouraged, eyes flickering between your needy cunt , sucking in the younger’s fingers over and over as he added a second and then a third, and pretty expressions, face morphing in pleasure. “Right there, there it is, oh, that’s so good, isn’t it, sweetheart?” He mused, watching you cum, back arching against James chest.

He wore a band shirt and jeans, both clearly having been worn for ages, now there was a wet spot soaking into his jeans. His free hand was on your side, arm over your stomach and holding you tight to him, forcing you to push back into him.

“Give ‘er here.” The older said, nodding to you and gesturing with his hands.

“Why?” The younger asked, getting possessive over you now. Same man, different packaging. “She’s good here, nice and comfy, with someone her own fucking age, weirdo.”

The older man didn’t care for his words and rolled his eyes, pulling you onto his lap. “My turn.” You got nice and comfy in his lap, the familiarity of his size, encompassing you in his warmth.

His hand, gruffer and thicker than the others, went to your neglected clit, rubbing it between two fingers. “Oh, that’s nice, isn’t it?” He asked, kissing the other side of your face, making his own marks on you, darker and more prominently placed.

You nodded eagerly, hooking your knees over his. The younger was given a full view of your anatomy, eyes wide and lips parted slightly.

A wide smile spread across your face as the James behind you rubbed you senseless and you reached for the James in front of you. “C’mere.” You bubbled.

He didn’t need to be told twice, hurriedly getting to his feet, tossing his shirt aside and hopping out of his jeans, nearly tripping over them as they got stuck on his big ass grippers, something you constantly teased your boyfriend over -he put an end to that recently, making you ride his boot after you made a joke on a bad day.

His boxers were soaked through with his cum from earlier, peeling off his hard cock sticky. He climbed onto the bed and reached for your hips, pulling you closer until he was lined up with you.

Oddly enough, he looked up to his older self, who was just giggling at the size difference. Not to say that he was ever really small, but he definitely got better as time went on.

He pushed into you with a groan, eyes screwing shut and jaw dropping in pleasure. He couldn’t hold himself back, hips rutting and thrusting into you, bucking helplessly into your warmth.

“Fuck, you don’t care about her at all.” The silver headed man grumbled, fingers still on your sensitive nub. He pulled away from you for a moment, pulling down his jeans and pulling himself out of his boxers.

As soon as you heard the zipper you knew what was to come but nothing could prepare you for the stretch of double James, eyes shooting open and a cry ripping from you.

You lurched forward, arms wrapping around the younger and clawing at his shoulders, making him groan -the noise was high and really it barely classified as a groan, he moaned right in your ear and they only got needier as he got closer, feeling James grinding against him inside you, it was all too much for him.

The sound of the twins moans and groans, grunts and whines, in opposite ears at the same time, it was melodic. You didn’t even have to do anything but sit pretty on your knees for them, let them fuck you into oblivion.

“Fuck, I-I can’t- oh god.” The younger mumbled, muffling his voice by hiding his face in your neck. His thrusts were losing the little rhythm they had as he spilled his seed in you. He kept moving, overstimulating himself, cock twitching and pulsing inside you, tears brimming his eyes.

The older of the two leaned down to your ear, nipping your earlobe while he chuckled, a low grumble of a noise. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not even close yet.” It was a brag, a brag that he could last longer than himself but a brag nonetheless.

The other James heard it, whining into your other ear as he forced himself to keep going, not ready to admit he wasn’t ready for this, for you.

[sceletaflores]

college!pervy!patrick stealing your underwear 18+

it's pure fucking luck when it happens.

art wouldn't stop complaining about having to take his dirty laundry to the communal room on his dorm floor that housed all the washers and dryers. patrick doesn't know why the fuck he offered to take it up for him in the first place, to shut art up? to make him happy?

who gives a shit anyways cause while he's taking arts stupidly full hamper to the laundry room and following the half-assed directions given to him, he bumps right into someone as soon as he steps foot through the already open door. when he cranes his head around the edge of art's hamper he nearly jumps with fucking joy at what, or more-so who, greets him.

he knew who you were already. art wouldn't stop blowing up his phone with texts about "the hot new chick with an out of this world backhand and a killer fucking rack!". so as soon as he got off the bus in cali and stepped foot in art's cushy dorm room he obviously demanded he take him to one of your matches, and holy fucking shit.

you absolutely obliterate the poor girl on the opposite side of the net. running her up and down the court like a chicken with its head cut off while you stay calm and collected.

he could come just watching your perfect form as you hammer another excellent serve at your opponent, but something has to be said for the fucking outfit you're wearing. the tight tank of your dress does show off your, now proven, killer fucking rack but goddamn that skirt should be illegal. even the flowy pleated fabric can't hide the thick curve of your ass underneath, bouncing as you take off to chase after the ball.

he's white knuckling the edges of his seat the entire match, using every ounce of willpower in his body to not pop a boner in the middle of the fucking stands and even more willpower to not look over at the smug fucking grin plastered on art's face as he watches him. safe to say, you've been on his mind ever since.

now, you stand in front of him holding your own hamper with an apologetic smile on your face.

"shit, i'm so sorry. i didn't even see you." you say, way too chipper for 9 a.m on a sunday.

patrick is the epitome of a cocky, arrogant asshole. he has girls in nearly every state practically begging to choke on his dick without him so much as raising a finger in their direction. he's beyond smooth. he has every sleazy line known to man on the tip of his tongue at all times, yet when he goes to speak he can't manage anything besides a weak mutter of, "s'alright." he mentally punches himself in the balls for letting your bambi eyes and dick sucking lips get the better of him.

you give him a nod and one last friendly smile before stepping around him and making your way down the hallway. patrick watches in damn near agony as you go, ponytail swinging behind you in time with the sway of your hips.

patrick lets out an all suffering groan, dropping his head to his chest in defeat. "fucking dumbass.' he admonishes himself quietly, letting himself wallow in misery before making to take a step forward when suddenly he spots something out of the corner of his eye.

it takes him a few seconds to register just what he's staring at, but when it clicks he nearly has a fucking heart attack. there on the floor lays a pair of lacy white panties, your lacy white panties. it takes him all of a millisecond to drop art's hamper on the floor carelessly and practically dive to snatch them up. as soon as his fingers touch the fabric he can feel himself chubbing up in his sweats. he runs his fingertips over the hem, feeling the familiar rough texture that was snug against your body so recently makes sparks go off near the base of his spine.

when patrick hears lively conversation and footsteps heading his way he shoves the panties in his pocket and snatches art's hamper off the floor to start haphazardly shoving his clothes in the washer.

when he finally re-enters art's dorm room he's met with his best friends face staring at him suspiciously. "what the fuck took you so long?" art questions, brow raised as he watches patrick stumble over to his bed and plop down a little too roughly. patrick's reply is simple.

“got lost."

it's only later, when he's back on the train heading for his latest stop and digging into his pocket in search of his lighter that he feels it. the lacy fabric of your panties still stuffed deep into his pocket. his breath hitches in his throat and before he knows what he's doing he's up like a shot and speed walking to the back of the cart.

he's in the bathroom a mere five seconds before he's ripping his fly down and furiously stroking his hard as steel cock in a cramped train bathroom he can barely stand up fully in. it takes an embarrassingly short amount of time before he's busting in the fucking sink with your dainty white panties balled up in his fist and held against his nose as he inhales so heavily he might fucking pass out.

patrick has already found, and requested you, on facebook by the time he makes it back to his seat.

-------------

big shout outs to @yuenity @callsign-artemis @ebodebo (who each put up with me ranting about this so wonderfully love you guys mwah)