#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 🥀

[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

[artificialchaoscola]

rivals.

[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)

[kingdomvel]

Steddie | 2.2k | first meetings | ao3

“What did you say the name of the band is again?” Steve asks. He has to raise his voice above the sound of the music playing before the concert and the hundreds of conversations around him.

“Corroded Coffin” Dustin says, probably for the hundredth time, or that’s what his tone suggests.

“It’s written on the drums.” Mike adds with his constant bitchy petulant tone.

Steve turns around and fair enough, the name is written there in the drums. They are also right there as they had queued for hours to be at the front (they are not in the centre but there’s no one standing in front of them), and apparently the band and place are small enough that there is no security line in front of the stage. Steve has been leaning against it with a drink in his hand while they wait for the concert to start. And that’s his excuse. He was leaning against the stage, so the drums were to his back, he couldn’t have read them.

“C’mon Steve, even I learned the name of the band in the eternity we have been here” Robin says which, rude, but she had agreed to come keep him company at a metal concert without asking for anything in return, so he will let it pass.

The kids (not quite kids anymore, but close enough) had needed an adult to get into the 18+ venue the concert was held at, and of course that adult had to be Steve because “we are not going to bring one of our parents into a metal concert Steve” and “Nancy and Jonathan are not even in the state and you said you were fun, didn’t you?” and he is fun, so he had to agree. And drag Robin with him, of course.

“Well I would remember the name if it wasn’t a stupid name” he says, a bit too loud if the looks he receives from some of the people around them are anything to go by.

“If you are so annoyed why don’t you go hang out at the bar and leave us alone?” Dustin asks.

“If I’m at a concert I’m getting the full experience, I’ve not queued for hours to stay at the bar. And I have to make sure you don’t get squished to death or accept drinks from strangers.”

“We are sixteen, you already drank when you were sixteen.”

“But I didn’t have a wristband telling everyone I was a minor.” He emphasizes this by hooking his forefinger on said wristband around Dustin’s wrist. The boy takes his hand away with a huff, but whatever he was going to say gets interrupted by a loud cheer as the lights of the venue dim. All eyes turn to the stage, and Steve forgets everything about the little shits around him.

They play the first two songs without interruption, back to back, and they are much better than Steve had expected them to be when the kids had pitched the idea of going to a concert of ‘a super cool band’ they had found on tiktok of all places. Steve is very quick to understand their raising popularity on social media the moment his eyes land on the frontman. He is not even wearing anything scandalous, just black jeans, some graphic tee and a leather jacket, but fuck if he isn’t attractive. His big eyes, teasing smile and wild hair are very much deserving of the screams they awake in the audience.

When the second song finishes, they don’t start a new one, the frontman takes the microphone from the stand.

“Are you ready for the best night of your life?” he shouts, and the audience answers with shouts of their own. Steve finds himself whooping, and answers with a smile and a shrug to Robin’s amused silent question as both of them clap. “We are Corroded Coffin,” more yelling, and the frontman stars walking around with a smile on his lips while he looks at the ground, clearly enjoying the attention. “And these aaaaaare…” he prolongs the last word, building a dramatic effect. “Gareth!” he shouts, pointing to the back dramatically. There are yells, the boy at the drums doing a short solo before he stands up to wave at the audience. “Jeff!” more yells, a guitar solo. “Our favourite Freak!” laughs from band and audience alike, more yells, and the boy with the bass trying to hit the frontman with said bass. “And I’m Eddie.”

‘Eddie’ Steve mouths the name.

There are yells as the frontman finishes, a small bashful smile on his lips back on his face after the laughing as he plays with the microphone stand with the hand that is not currently holding the microphone. He looks up at the audience when the yells don’t stop, gives a small dramatic bow and smirks when the yells grow louder once again.

“EDDIE MARRY ME” a voice yells from somewhere in the audience.

“Oh? Without going on a date first?” Eddie asks, he has his gaze set somewhere on the audience, and Steve is a bit impressed at how easily he has spot the person in the sea of bodies.

“I’M FREE WHENEVER.” The same voice yells again, it makes Eddie laugh.

“I’m honoured, my fair lady, but I’ll have to decline. I’m looking for my knight in shining armour myself.” There are ooohs from the audience but Steve’s gut makes a traitorous interested twist. “And speaking of knights,” he says, putting his hands back on his guitar, “I think you may know this one.” One note, and the audience is going crazy. Dustin is jumping up and down while he holds onto Steve’s arm, and Steve can’t help but laugh at him.

It's when that third song is finishing that it happens. The guitarist is starting a solo, and Eddie looks down to the base of the microphone stand, pulls a confused face, and then looks around. He must not see whatever he was looking for because he has a confused furrow in his brow when he does a second sweep around the stage and beyond, and he catches Steve's eyes. He maintains the eye contact for a second, two, five, and then looks down to Steve’s hands and back up again. There is a smirk in his face Steve is not entirely sure he likes the implications of as he walks towards him while he keeps playing.

Steve can hear Dustin screaming “oh my god, oh my god, oh my god” right next to his ear as Eddie comes closer until he is standing right in front of them.

The musician is still looking at Steve as he leans forward and asks “give me a sip?” as he looks down at Steve’s hands for a second. (Or at least that’s what Steve guesses he says, the noise too loud for him to really hear him without his mic.)

Steve lifts his drink, and the frontman leans forward and down with a smile. He opens his mouth and Steve pours his drink in it. When he finishes, he winks at Steve before he walks away in time to start singing again. The kids around him are screaming, Robin is surely going to make him partially deaf and is shaking him so hard he almost drops the rest of his drink. It takes until the next song starts for the bunch to calm down a bit and focus on the show again.

The thing is, that is not the last time it happens. Eddie comes back to steal sips from his drink every few verses, and when Steve’s drink is finished and he goes to get a beer, he is miraculously let back to the front by the audience. Eddie, of course, also wants to have his share of the beer. So they share it.

It is, if Steve is honest, the weirdest experience he has ever had in a concert. But he is having too much fun and would not change it for anything. A hot singer and guitarist coming to him every few minutes and bending down so Steve can pour drink into his mouth? The best thing that has happened to him all month. It only gets better when Eddie ditches his leather jacket – Steve was starting to wonder when that was going to happen because it’s much too hot in the venue for it and he is sure that a big reason Eddie needs to drink so much is because he is sweating it all and dehydrating – and reveals that the tee he was wearing underneath has the sleeves cut off very freely. Steve can see most of the man’s torso and that is a SIGHT. There are tattoos on his arms and ribcage that Steve immediately wants to see complete, and his waist is slim where the shirt is tucked into the jeans. It makes Steve bite his lip in want.

He is about to pour the last of their third beer in Eddie’s mouth when a small hand stops him. He looks to the side with confusion, sure that none of the kids or Robin would stop him at this point and is met with the smile of a small blonde girl.

“Give him this please” she says, handing him a bottle of an electrolyte drink. Steve looks back at Eddie just in time to see him groaning. “No more beer.” She adds, pointing to Eddie as if he was a misbehaving dog, he is surely giving the look, with his big brown eyes and sad look. She turns back to Steve, “and sorry about that, any new drinks you get are on us.”

She is gone with that. Steve looks at Eddie, at the new drink in his hand. Eddie shrugs, defeated, and leans forward. Steve quickly empties the rest of the beer in his mouth before he opens the new bottle and starts pouring from it. Eddie doesn’t drink much, too busy trying not to choke on the beer and his laughter.

Eddie ditches his guitar towards the end of the concert for a ‘calmer’ song. He walks around the stage as he sings to a boy involved in him that tries to deny the depth of their relationship and tries to date girls, and how in the future he is going to regret not staying with him. He has great stage presence, he has been flirting with the audience between songs, dramatic and charismatic, a bit over the top. Maybe the fastest crush Steve has ever developed, happy to enjoy his part in the show, even when he knows it’s not going to lead anywhere.

Steve feels his heart accelerating as Eddie walks towards him, which is ridiculous, they have been doing this all night. But this time Eddie shakes his head when Steve gets the drink ready, and he can only look as he kneels on the edge of he stage right in front of him as he sings the bridge. They are holding eye contact now, and it’s the closest they have been. Eddie’s eyes are captivating, Steve can only stop looking at them to glance down at his lips. It seems he was caught, because the next second Eddie is speaking.

“Are we about to kiss right now?” he asks, and Steve looks back up to his eyes. He lifts his eyebrows, trying to convey ‘bring it on’ as best as he can as he licks his lips, Eddie’s eyes glancing at them. It must work, because the next second Eddie is leaning forward, and now Steve’s hand is on his nape, and their lips are pressing against each other.

It’s probably the filthiest kiss Steve has participated on. At least with an audience. It’s not long, Eddie has to keep singing after all, but they make up for it in tongue action. The audience goes crazy around them, but Steve doesn’t pay attention to them at all, only focused on Eddie. He at least must be paying some attention to their surroundings because he pulls off in time to keep singing and stands up to move around the stage.

There are a couple of songs more, and then Eddie is introducing the band again before he starts listing all the members of the staff that have made the concert possible.

“We also wouldn’t have made it here without our precious manager Chrissy,” he adds, “even when she worries too much sometimes. Three beers are not enough to get me drunk, especially not shared ones. And that reminds me! I can’t forget to thank my knight in shining armour, my perfect drink partner…” he trails off.

“STEVE!” Robin shouts next to him.

“Steve” Eddie repeats with a smile. “Thank you for the drinks. Don’t go running off now too fast now, alright? Stay for a bit after the concert, I owe you a couple of beers.” He finishes with a wink.

The kids and Robin are screaming again, and Steve is sure he is going to have bruises tomorrow from their grabbing, but he doesn’t stray his gaze from Eddie. At least not until the last song finishes, the lights from the stage turn off, and the rest of the lights of the venue turn on. Then, and only then, Steve turns towards the others.

“How did you say you were going to get back home again?”

Part two

Now with art

[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

[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 :]

[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)

[parawhore-mp3]

Thanks to rockstar Eddie Munson, his band Corroded Coffin are known as "those guys who are always covering pop songs". He makes the band play metal versions of those catchy bubblegum popular songs because he says that his partner, Steve, likes them. And so he has the band play a different cover at every gig (despite sometimes getting shit from haters saying that he's selling out and going pop), because he knows that Steve will be losing his shit to those songs every night.

It doesnt take long until Steve and Robin start a game in which they try to guess what the boys are going to be covering at every show. They make a new version of the whiteboard they had at scoops ahoy, so they keep track of their individual scores. (Steve may or may not be trying to 'interrogate' Eddie at home when he's distracted, so that he can get some songs right and get an upper hand on Robin, cause somehow she keeps guessing the right song every time!)