#lars no exit

[ex0rin]

Ash & Lars | No Exit (2022)

[redpool]

I'm sorry, but that was fucking hilarious.

[vivsicx]

this story was a whole rollercoaster

[cyberexorcism]

gaining his trust incredibly slowly through churu tubes and freeze dried chicken. the switch from meow mix to higher quality food is going well. I would love to clean his eyes and ears but he won't let me💣💥💔💔‼️‼️

[twinterrors29]

what if Owen Lars wasn't lying about Obi-Wan Kenobi having died a long time ago during A New Hope

the 'Old Ben Kenobi' that Luke finds out in the desert is a strange man, with dark skin and a faded scar curled around his left eye

the man protests that he's not Obi-Wan Kenobi, although he is Kenobi, but Artoo seems to recognize him nonetheless and shows them the full message from the Princess

Kenobi, of course, accepts her mission, and explains to Luke that he is holding his father's lightsaber for him and offers to teach him about the ways of the Jedi

he readily agrees to drop Luke back off with the Larses on his insistence though

after the tragedy of the Lars homestead is revealed and they make their way through the drama of hiring Captain Solo, Kenobi gets to work on Luke's Jedi training, which mostly seems to consist of Luke trying to dodge or block random stunners throughout the trip and intense physical training (Luke didn't realize he had some of those muscles in his legs)

eventually, they exit hyperspace in the remains of Alderaan, where the Death Star remains hovering in the now-empty black

they hide from the scanners and sneak off the ship and into the control room, where Kenobi decides to sneak off to disable the tractor beam while Luke waits with the ship (and eventually manages to convince Han and Chewie to help him rescue Leia)

while Kenobi is sneaking around the station, Darth Vader unfortunately notices a familiar presence...one he hasn't felt in some time...he thinks it might be Obi-Wan Kenobi, but it's faint...

Vader, of course, immediately sets out to track Kenobi down, and finding an old man wearing a brown cloak with a deep hood pulled over his face, wielding a familiar lightsaber, makes a few assumptions

Cody Kenobi, widow of the deceased Obi-Wan Kenobi, lets him make those assumptions for long enough to see Luke, Han, Chewbacca, and the rescued Leia sneak back onto the Falcon out of the corner of his eye

then, after a dramatic pause, he burst into motion with a jetpack-assisted round house kick to Vader's face, allowing him to make his escape to the ship

they make their daring escape back to the rebel base on Yavin, and Luke prepares to join the pilots targeting the Death Star's weakness; when he hears a faint but somehow familiar voice urging him to trust in the Force rather than the targeting computer, he decides to trust it, and his choice is immediately supported by Kenobi back at the base

once the celebrations have died down, Luke tracks Kenobi down again, and they get ready to continue his training

once Cody is satisfied with Luke's level of physical fitness and willingness to trust the Force (and after a quiet conversation with Leia about what she wanted to do), he flies himself and Luke out to Dagobah, where his husband told him to bring the boy for Jedi training with Master Yoda

Yoda is grudgingly impressed with Luke's ability to hold handstands, but is more focused on his sidequest to catch Cody off guard and smack him in the shins (he does not succeed)

they leave every so often to go on missions for the Rebellion, frequently teaming up with Leia and Han, but always sneaking back to Dagobah after a short period of socialization

several years into this pattern, Luke has a vision of his friends in danger on Bespin, and insists on going to rescue them despite both Cody and Yoda urging him to stay

Cody, however, grudgingly decides to go back into the field with Luke to help Leia and Chewie (and Han. he guesses.)

Luke runs off to confront Vader, despite being advised not to, and opens their fight with a Force-enhanced round house kick to Vader's face

(Vader is experiencing war-like flashbacks, but manages to rally enough to finish that confrontation)

Cody, meanwhile, got wind that Boba was here and snuck into his ship

the moment Boba reenters the ship and starts preparing for takeoff, Cody emerges and hijacks the ship by way of an ori'vod'ika headlock, regrettably rescuing Luke and Leia's bad influence friend/crush

once Luke is out of surgery on Home-1, he finds Cody and demands answers about his parentage

Cody tells a brief version of what happened with his parents, and with Obi-Wan, and how that led to the present set of conditions

when Luke demands to know why Cody didn't tell him that from the start, Cody asks him why he thinks that Cody didn't teach him the Force-enhanced round house kick during their first training session

Luke admits that he wasn't ready to learn that, or to learn about Vader, but then insists that he needed to know before facing Vader again

Cody reasonably responds that there was no way he, Cody, could have known that Vader was going to be on Bespin, and that if Luke knew and didn't share that intel that was certainly not Cody's fault

and did Cody mention that he also tried to convince Luke not to go in the first place?

Cody ends the conversation by telling Luke that he can do whatever he wants with this new information about his relationship with Vader, but that it's his responsibility as a Jedi to weigh the consequences carefully

Luke sometimes wishes that his mentor wasn't so implacably rational

months later, after the second Death Star is destroyed during the Battle of Endor, Luke watches Cody sit down on a bench some distance from the celebration, only to be joined by a transparent blue figure, who laces their fingers together

the Force ghost meets Luke's eyes and smiles sadly, gesturing for him to return to the celebration

when Luke goes to find Cody in the morning, he finds the man still in the exact same position on that bench, eyes closed and with a soft smile on his face

[melyxssa]

Fill the Void

Description: 1991, during the recordings of the Black Album, you help your boyfriend James to come up with something more intriguing.

(inspired by the series “the idol”)

warnings: smut, fingering, oral sex (f receiving)

“You're the one, you're the only one

Baby girl, we could both have fun

Oh, I choose you to fill your void, yeah”

-“Fill the Void”, by The Weeknd & Lily Rose Depp

The time seemed to be frozen inside that recording room, where the entire band felt impossible to compose new riffs and write new lyrics for the upcoming album.

Hours have passed, and for some reason, James couldn't get into the lyrics of one of the songs, he didn't feel it as his own.

"You seem a little stuck on the outro", says Lars from the console, right outside the noise proof studio where James was trying to record the vocals, after working on it endlessly.

James sighs heavily, running a hand through his blonde hair. He squints his blue eyes as he looks over at Lars, his expression a mix of frustration and annoyance.

"Nah man, it's not just the fuckin' outro. I'm just not feelin' it, y'know?", James replies gruffly, his voice rough from repeatedly trying to nail his verse.

“I gotta figure this shit out, it’s been hours already, we gotta finish this fucking song.”, he says in frustration, rubbing his face with his hands, stretching his tall frame. The handlebar mustache and overgrown goatee twitch as he clenches his jaw.

"Maybe we just need to take a break for a bit. Clear our fuckin' heads."

James exits the recording room, opening the door loudly, grabbing a beer from the nearby cooler, cracking it open and taking a long swig. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, burping softly.

"This song's got me fucked up, man. I can't seem to find the right... vibe, ya feel me?" He says, gesturing vaguely with the beer can.

James paces around the small recording space, his boots thudding against the floor. He knows they need to get this album done, but he refuses to put out something that doesn't feel authentic.

"I just need to get outta the fuck outta this room for a bit." He mutters, more to himself than towards Lars.

James takes another long pull from the beer, feeling the cool liquid slide down his throat. He knows they'll get there, eventually. But for now, he just needs a break.

Even more time passes by, he spent hours trying and trying his vocal part, for what seemed a thousands times. There was nothing to do, James couldn't feel the song, the lyrics that he wrote himself didn’t feel like they were his, something was missing.

Now, 11pm, with hands in his hair and frustration in his eye, James fucked up the outro of the song once again, making Lars and the producers sight heavily.

"Look man, it's really late now, maybe you have to rest. You tried this shit for the whole day now...", Lars spoke through the microphone from outside the room where James was standing.

James clenches his fists, his face turning red with frustration. He wants to scream, to punch something and let out his frustration. James knows Lars is right, it is late, and he has been stuck at this point for way too long. But the perfectionist in him can't let it go, not until he gets it just right.

"Fuck!", James shouts, his voice echoing off the soundproof walls, glitching the audio of the microphone connected to the one that Lars was speaking with.

He starts pacing again, his boots now stomping loudly on the studio floor. "I can't fuckin' rest until I get this straight, ya hear me? We can't put out some lame bullshit!"

He leans against the wall, his head falling back as he stares at the ceiling. The fluorescent lights flicker slightly, casting a harsh glow on his angular face. James runs a hand over his short, mutton chops, tugging at the hair.

“James, it’s too late now, and it’s a Saturday. Kirk and Jason are already gone, and half of the crew too. You just have to try again on Monday”.

With a heavy sigh, he speaks into the microphone, his voice low and gritty.

"Alright, alright... fuck. I hear ya, Lars. But this shit's just not... it's not workin' for me, man."

James nods, removing his headphones and closing his audio, while all of the others in the building left for the night, except for him, who decided to stay there trying to fix the lyrics, some riffs and sing again on his own.

There was nothing left to do anymore, the outro was all fucked up, he seriously needed a break.

He stared at the phone on the wall for a few seconds holding his face with his hand.

He needed her. He needed his biggest inspiration to be there with him, the one from which all of his songs come alive.

With a quick and heavy movement, he jumped up from the couch and reached the phone. While the beeping sound was pending, he looked at the clock: 12:30am.

“Please, answer me”, he thought in his mind.

“Hello?”

A quiet almost sleepy voice answers from the other side of the phone.

"Hey, babe... Did I wake ya?" James asks, his voice now a low, gentle rumble. He tries to keep the frustration and exhaustion out of his tone, not wanting to worry her.

He starts pacing again, but this time his strides are slower, more measured. The sound of her breathing on the other end of the line is oddly soothing, a balm to his frayed nerves.

“Not at all, I fell asleep on the couch actually”, Y/N answers in a sweet calming tone. “It’s everything okay there?”

She asks now fixing herself and sitting up, so that she could talk to him better.

"I'm just... I'm havin' a tough time here with this fuckin' song, ya know? I can't get it right, and it's just... it's drivin' me nuts." He confesses, his free hand running through his hair again.

James pauses, listening to her soft murmur of sympathy. He closes his eyes, letting the sound of her voice wash over him, calming him down.

“I’m sorry to hear that… I thought you already fixed that. It’s been days by now”, she continues, making James let out another sigh.

“I didn’t... I need you here Y/N, right now…” he says firmly.

“You want me there? Oh James, it’s so late now, I-“

Y/N got interrupted by his helpless voice.

“Please…”

—Y/N’s POV—

I stay silent again, checking the clock, it’s almost 1am.

I couldn’t say no, I feel like he’s having a rough time with this song, and I want to help him.

“Yeah, all right then. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” I hang up the phone and started collecting some clothes to wear and get to him as soon as i could.

My hair is still a mess, and I soon realized once I stepped out of the house that wearing a skirt and a top wasn’t the best idea ever, due to the California’s cold night breeze, but my sleepy senses’ve been stronger then my actions at this night time.

As I arrive at the studio, the door was strangely open, someone who left the studio must’ve thought that James was supposed to do the same right after, but of course, he didn’t.

I walk through the hallway of the studio arriving at the recording room, spotting James looking up at me, his blue piercing eyes meeting mine.

The room is dimly lit, shadows dancing across his angular face. He's sitting in the recording booth, a guitar resting on his lap, a half-empty beer can on the floor beside him.

The moment he sees me, James' expression softens instantly. The frustration and exhaustion that were etched into his features a moment before quickly melt away, replaced by a gentle, almost reverent look. He stands up slowly, the chair creaking softly behind him.

James walks towards me, his tall frame unfolding with a grace that belies his rough exterior. He stops just at the edge of the open door, looking down at me with an intensity that makes my heart skip a beat.

"Hey, babe", he says softly, his low and intimate voice echoing in the quiet of the studio.

"I'm glad you're here. I needed this, I… needed you", he says in my ear, tying his big arm around my waist before he reaches out his rough, calloused hand cupping my cheek. His thumb brushes gently over my skin, a tenderness that sends a shiver down my spine. James leans in closer, his breath hot on my face, faintly smelling of beer and smoke.

Suddenly, he pulls back, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "I'm just... I'm fuckin' stuck, and I can't figure out why.” He lets out an irritated sigh.

I’ll actually go mad if I can’t get this right. And… I thought... maybe you could help me, maybe give me a new perspective."

I move towards the console in front of the recording booth, grabbing the paper sheet with the ink-written lyrics.

"I don't know James, you know I'm not really good at this.

My nervous voice is trembling, I wanna help with all of my heart.

"Sing with me then”, he says with an amused smirk on his face.

“Yeah sure.” I laugh nervously, my cheeks burn.

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips as he listens to my nervous tone. He leans back against the console. The amused glint in his blue eyes softens as he realizes my hesitation.

James always catches me sing under the shower or while I do my makeup, and he always insists that my voice is perfect.

He takes a step closer to me, closing the distance between our bodies. His tall frame towers over me, but his presence is no longer intimidating. Instead, it's comforting, warm. He reaches out, his rough fingers gently tilting my chin up to meet his gaze.

"Babe, c'mon. You know your voice is fuckin' perfect. I've heard you sing around the house before, ya’ know? Under the shower... it's so beautiful." His thumb brushing over my lower lip.

"I wanna hear you sing with me, feel the music together."

He grabs my hand and leads me in the recording booth in front of the microphone, he looks around for a pair of headphones, before putting them on my head.

He sings the first part of the song, his voice low and rough, sensual, filled with a raw emotion that sends a shiver down my spine.

The lyrics are intense, it reminds me of us in some ways. Maybe that’s why he needed me here.

But as he sings, his gaze never leaves mine, connecting with me on a deeper level.

He moves away from the microphone leaving me more space now.

“Just follow the rhythm , okay? Let the music guide you, feel it in your bones.

Don't overthink it, just… be with me in this moment."

I nod nervously, helping him with one of his songs is a big responsibility. He quickly exits the booth to press the recording button on the outside console, playing the base in the headphones, before coming back next to me.

"Come on, babe. Sing with me", he says, his voice is gentle almost a whisper against my skin, he positions himself behind me holding my shoulders first.

"Let's make something beautiful together, something real and true. Just like us."

I start singing the lyrics reading it, feeling James hands on my arms and then falling down on my waist, rubbing my hips right after, his breath on my neck while he rests his chin on my shoulder, closing his eyes, now feeling the song. I gasp in the microphone at his touch feeling his hands.

James starts to sing along with me, his voice a low, sensual growl that vibrates through my body. He holds me closer, one hand sliding up my side to cup the side of my breast, his thumb brushing over the fabric of my shirt, pressing his hips against my back, making me feel what this moment was doing to him.

Lost in the moment, James lets the music consume him. He sings with a fervor he hasn't felt in a long time, the frustration of earlier finally melting away. With each word, each note, he feels a sense of release, he was getting it right.

James' hands drift lower, playing with the waistband of my skirt, his calloused fingers brushing down the bare skin of my thighs. He leans in and presses his lips against my neck, his mustache tickles my skin as he starts to place soft kisses along the column of my throat.

He takes his time, savoring my taste, the way I shiver and gasp at his touch. James' hand slides higher between my legs, pushing my skirt up as he goes, his palm kneading the soft flesh of my inner thigh. His kisses turn more insistent, more demanding, as he feels my body responding to his touch.

He gently touches my panties’ lace fabric making my mouth leave a soft moan while his teeth grazing my skin before he soothes the sting with his tongue.

James' other hand slides up my side again, under my shirt, to finally reach my perky breast. He squeezes it gently, his thumb brushing over my sensitive nipple, feeling it harden under his touch.

Lost in a haze of sensation, James continues to sing, his voice low and rough with desire. The lyrics take on a new meaning, a new intensity as he holds me close, his hardening body pressed against me.

He wants me, needs me, in a way that consumes him entirely. And as the song reaches its crescendo, James pours all of that need, all of that desire, into his kiss and touch.

His fingers slides underneath the lace of my underwear, feeling my heat. He swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he hears your moan echoing through the studio, now recorded in the lyrics.

Slowly, he starts to move his fingers again, sliding them over my sensitive and humid flesh. His touch is gentle at first, teasing, exploring. He wants to learn every inch, to hear every gasp and every moan tie with the words he wrote.

As he feels my wetness, James can't hold back a low groan, his breath hot against my neck.

I moan again letting my head fall back on his shoulder, heavily breathing.

“James…”, I whisper, my eyes rolled at the back of my head, biting my lip.

He smirks as he keeps kissing the thin skin of my neck. “Keep singing”, he says starting to rub slow circles over my clit, his touch firm and deliberate.

At the same time, he starts to rock his hips against my ass, grinding his hardening cock against me, throbbing through his jeans.

I keep singing moaning at every pause, at every words, harder, when I feel James fingers pump in and out of me.

He groans deeply in my ear as he feels my tight, wet heat enveloping his fingers. His movements speed up gradually, his thumb still rubbing firm circles over my clit. The sounds of my moans and the wet, slick noises of his fingers moving inside me fill the recording booth.

He grinds harder against my ass, his cock is now stone hard and it’s straining against the layers of clothes blocking its freedom. James' breathing grows heavier, his chest heaving against my back as he loses himself in pleasuring me.

“Keep singing for me babe, I wanna hear you”, he says in a growl, before leaving a last kiss on my neck.

During the instrumental part of the song, James moves away and stands in front of me, and suddenly drops to his knees behind me, his hands gripping my hips tightly, letting me arch my back, spreading my legs. He looks up at me with lust-filled eyes, his gaze intense and hungry. Without saying a word, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my underwear, yanking them down my legs in one swift motion.

As my panties fall to the floor of the recording room, James leans in, burying his face between my thighs, making me moan as I hold tight onto microphone in front of me.

“Don’t stop, I wanna hear your voice while I do this to you.” His voice vibrating against my sensitive flesh.

He starts to lick and suck my clit, while his hands grip my ass, spreading my cheeks apart as he delves deeper, his tongue plunging into my core. James eats me out with a fervor he's never shown before, a desperation that borders on primal. James is determined to make me cum just before the song ends, thanks of the feeling of his tongue and fingers bringing me to the pinnacle of pleasure.

I tangle my fingers in his blonde hair, pulling him closer as I moan louder and desperately.

He can sense my impending orgasm, the way my body starts to tremble and quake against his touch.

He doubles his efforts, his tongue and fingers moving faster, harder, more insistently. He wants to feel me come undone, wants to taste my release on his tongue.

"That's it, babe... Come for me.” James growls against my pussy, the vibrations of his voice against my cunt is sending me closer and closer to the edge.

And then, with a scream of his name, my body convulses, my pussy clenching and fluttering around his fingers as my orgasm crashes over me. James moans deeply as he feels my hot, slick essence on his mouth, coating his chin, as his strong hands grip firmly my ass.

He works me through my climax, his fingers and tongue never stopping their sensual assault until the last aftershock has passed.

Finally, he pulls back up, looking up at me with a smug, satisfied grin, as the base in the headphones that eventually fell off my head starts to fade away. I am speechless, this is what he meant when he said he didn’t feel the song…

He moves closer, kissing me, smacking again my ass, surely leaving his red hands prints, his tongue delivers inside my mouth tasting mine. “You’ve been perfect”, he says as he breaks the wet contact.

“Well I almost didn’t sing at all, James” I say breathless, my cheeks burn for the excitement, and sweat drips down my body.

“And that was exactly what I wanted, with the guitar solo at the end it’ll be perfect”, he says holding my hips firmly.

“James, are you sure? I mean… what about the others? It’s not your usual kind of song, I mean…” I quickly say after being interrupted by James’ hands pulling me closer again against his still hard crotch and his lips kissing me passionately. He moves an inch away from my lips, looking deeply into my exhausted eyes.

“It’s perfect Y/N, the guys will love it… I want this in the album, I want you in this song.”

hiii! if you have any requests lemme know xx

-mel

[chaoticsolsworld]

“It was always us…”| Ash Garver x Reader

Author’s Note: Sorry I’ve been gone for so long! I’m back now :) This is an alternative version of the storyline from No Exit. Reblogs are great and if you got any ideas you want, I’ll write them :)

You showed up in heels.

The red ones.

Straps snapped, one already bending from the walk. You looked too put-together for the panic in the room. Mascara smudged under your eyes like war paint. A party girl in the middle of a kidnapping.

At least, that’s what they thought.

They didn’t know Ash had sent for you. That the fight you picked at the party, the drink you threw, the storm you disappeared into—it was all part of the plan. His plan. Yours.

You spot him leaning against the vending machine, hood up, eyes unreadable. But they flash when they meet yours. A silent nod. That’s all it takes.

You slide into the chaos like it’s a cocktail hour. The girl tied up in the van (not a kid this time, no—we’re rewriting that part—it’s a woman, gagged but still clawing at the tape like she has a chance). Darby’s already unraveling. Spinning. Suspicious. She always had too much hero complex for her own good.

You don’t speak to her. Not until it’s too late.

It all goes wrong. Or right. Depends on who’s watching.

Lars panics. Sandi bleeds. And Ash—Ash is inches from death when it happens. The scream rips through the storm like something feral. You’re already running.

You find him bleeding behind the SUV, his knife somewhere in the snow, his chest rising too fast. And Darby’s standing there. Shaking. Holding that nail gun like it means something.

“You were working with him?” she breathes.

You don’t answer.

“You lied to me—”

You step between them. “No. You just didn’t matter enough to be told the truth.”

And that’s when the fight begins.

Darby’s fast. Scrappy. Maybe she watched too many cop shows. Maybe she thought you were just a pretty face.

But she doesn’t know what you’ve done. Who trained you. Who shaped you.

Ash is watching from the ground—blood in his teeth, something wild in his eyes as you duck the first swing and slam your shoulder into Darby’s ribs. She hits the ground hard, but scrambles back up, snow streaked red now, her breaths ragged.

“I should’ve known,” she spits, backing toward the overturned sign.

You take your time.

“You were never the hero here,” you say.

And then—

The fight ends with a sound like nothing. A crack. A grunt. And Darby goes still, your hands on the tire iron, her chest stopped rising. You stand over her, hair tangled, blood soaking through your sleeve, and when you look up—

Ash is already on his feet.

You don’t speak as you leave.

Just torch the van. Ash lights the flare. You make sure no one finds the girl—woman—until it’s too late to link her back to you. Just another horror story in the snow.

By the time you’re in his truck, knuckles split and chest heaving, he’s already watching you like he could devour you whole.

“You came,” he says, voice rough.

You laugh. “You asked.”

Ash leans in, fingers brushing the blood on your jaw like it’s sacred. “You killed for me.”

You don’t correct him.

Because the truth is—you killed for you. For all the times someone like Darby looked at you and saw nothing but glitter and heels. For all the times you were underestimated. Controlled. Overlooked.

You kiss him like it’s war. Like it’s over. Like it’s just beginning.

And when you pull away, your voice is quiet:

“It was always us.”

[sourbites]

What Remains After Fury

You knew Metallica, and everyone involved, were stressed for weeks building up to the Seattle event. It's been built up in everyone's minds to be this huge thing, and it's honestly really freaking James out. He's been restless, and sleepless, and his temper is more brittle than ever. Which has rubbed off on the others. Lars and James are fighting like never before, Jason's everyone's punching bag, and Kirk can't keep them calm and together forever. With that awesome environment, everyone on the team has been just as brooding, skulking around the venue at rehearsal as if they're being forced to show up.

That's why you're so surprised when you see James, a giddy James, floating around backstage when he's got an encore to show up for in a dozen minutes or so. You know it's James, even with his back to you. You'd recognise him off the beating of your own heart if you had to.

Gently, mindful of his recent mood, you remind him. "Don't forget your encore, James." You say coolly, masking the schoolgirlish sigh you want to swoon out at the sight of him.

Beer in hand (as usual), he turns to you: "I won't. Just wanted to come see you. How you doin', darlin'? Workin' hard?"

It's funny how he almost sounds southern, despite living in California for most of his life. That bluesy purr of his voice does nothing to cauterise the red-hot lust spilling out of you as if you have a bleeding head wound. It certainly feels that way sometimes, as if your mind fogs. Grinning, James raises his brows at you expectantly. Oh fuck, he's expecting an answer.

You swallow dryly, almost stupefied. "Shut up, that's not nearly as smooth as you think it is."

He laughs, his shoulders shaking subtly as the air enters and exits his chest. A thick bicep curls around the top of your shoulders, bringing you to his side for a quick hug. His skin is warm, molten hot — a little clammy from performing for at least two hours by now.

"I'll take your word for it," He hums, slowly slipping his hand down low, low, low. Dutifully following the surface of your back, the dips of your spine, until he reaches the small of your back. Thick fingers grope into your shirt, rounding out around the swell of your hips.

There's a heavy pause for a moment or two. His hair swooshes around as he looks around backstage. Most other crew members are tuning stuff and messing around with lights. AKA: doing what you should also be doing.

"Fuck it," You hear him murmur lowly. "You wanna take your break right now?" The question is directed at you.

You wring your hands in excited nervousness, despite finding yourself nodding. "We shouldn't take too long, though." You remind. The clock's still ticking, and there's a mass of fans preparing for an encore, crowding around the stage restlessly.

"Don't you fuckin' worry about that," James' hand is already rushing you into some emptied-out storage room, hot on your heels himself. 

The door to the little room slots closed, the lock following soon after. The four walls are bare save for a shelf where James is already surrendering his bottle of half-savoured beer. The light is an old, warm-toned fluorescent that flickers painfully every few seconds— as if it's sighing in exhaustion.

With both of his hands aching with idleness, James busies himself by slipping his warm, big palms over your figure, drawing you in with both his index fingers hooked around the belt loops of your skirt. You walk the three steps towards him until your frame bumps into his. Greedily, his hands cup your waist, gathering the material of your shirt into fists. His hot mouth is on yours, devouring your every breath. Your skin rasps against his moustache, a cool nose nudging into his. Just to make matters worse and get you further under his spell, he grazes his teeth against your lower lip, heavy-handedly groping your ass through your skirt.

You don't have time for the slowness, and James doesn't have the sobriety for the tenderness. Skirts are bunched up around the waist, and fly zippers are hatefully yanked down. Tongues swipe over lips, and corners of mouths, getting tasted indulgently. His tongue's in your mouth, and you react on instinct, sucking around it as your palms slip under his shirt, venturing up, and raking your nails back down. He shudders, patting you on the ass in his approval. You smile inwardly, nipping at his neck before you sink to your knees. It's a Pavlovian reaction, to kneel around James' thighs or at his boots.

With prying hands, you manage to tug down his boxers enough. His cock is already heavy and hard, springing up and smacking into his abdomen. Wrapping a hand around his base to secure him, you lean in, your soft breath hot against his skin. You can see the chills on James' arm before he reaches to you, threading thick ringed fingers through your hair reverently. You mouth at his head for a few moments, your lips sliding over his ever-wettening tip. With a few kisses, you sink further onto him. Your tongue flutters around his shaft, tracing the art of the vein that runs along the underside of his impressively thick cock.

James hisses once your drooling lips take him into your mouth. Precum beads a pearly, translucent shine around his peachy-skinned tip. The bluntness of his short fingernails scrape along your scalp, fisting your hair at the crown of your head. You can feel his pelvis and hips flinching. He's holding back. You try to ease him into the hollow of your throat, knowing that eases him.

"Nah, sweetheart. No time for that." James sighs, before practically scalping you with how much force he uses to yank you off him. You follow, jerked backwards with a throaty gasp.

He cups your cheek, stroking down your messy hair. "Later, alright?" He promises, grinning again.

You're guided to stand up, your back firmly pressed into the wall. His breath mingles with yours, and you can almost taste the deeply malted beer on his breath. Fuck, he makes you dizzy. James cups your thigh, steering it around his hip. With his other hand, he gathers your panties and ushers them to the side.

You find your place in the crook of his neck, sighing as he glides his now glistening cock over your wettened slit. In a dull, ache, tingle, James bullies his way into you, his fingers splayed and gripping onto where your hip meets your thigh in vehemence. He bumps against your cervix, his hips jutted forward as if he wants it to bruise you. Shuddering, your breath stops with every time you meet.

Golden, shining locks are swept to the side as you sink your teeth into James' flesh, tongue swiping over the slab of meat that connects his neck to his broad shoulders. You can almost feel his rock-hard cock in the pit of your lungs each time you ambitiously try to breathe. God, he's a monster.

Heated limbs wrap around heated limbs as he carves his hips into yours as if he's a worshiper of some deity, and you, his worshipee. A cry is forced out of you as James withdraws himself, only to pour into you, burning your bruise-tender skin as he goes. He stumbles faster and faster into you, smothering a palm to your mouth to muffle the sounds of your noises. As if that makes anything more subtle. The room is full of heavy breaths, skin punching into skin, and the obscenely vulgar sounds of slicked arousal drooling and bubbling from your puffy cunt with each schlick and schlock of James' thrusts. But sure, you need to keep your noise down.

Tears prickle at your waterline. Each shaky inhale is gutted out of you, your moans stuttering every time you're fucked into the wall.

"Shh, attagirl. Keep quiet f'me," James rasps out, grazing his teeth into the shell of your ear for a moment, dipping further into your warm bubble of space. Furiously charmed, you lean into him; maybe to take some weight off of your one leg that's not wrapped firmly around his waist.

James' hips are snapping into yours, bucking and pressing as if he intends to flatten you. You feel malleable anyway: like hot clay, a pile of mush that's bolstered up with every nasty hurl of his aggressively penetrating cock.

As if you weren't already close to going into cardiac arrest, you can hear the winding corridors quickly fill with hustling and bustling. The encore must be close. And James is missing (or busy, is a better term for it). And the man in question doesn't even seem to notice. His chest rumbles with a deep, rich moan. He bows his head down, caressing the base of your neck with an open mouth. Your pulse is thrumming. Your heart is thumping against your ribcage. You're not sure what will remain of you after James' fury.

"C'mon, sweetheart," He coaxes between smoky gasps of breath. "I know you're close." He goads. You can feel his smirk against your skin.

His calloused fingertips sweep up your throat, cupping your cheek. Uncharacteristically tenderly, he plants a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You grip him, any part of him you can manage, in a blind panic. His hair, his shirt, bicep, forearm, shoulder. Anything and everything that will help anchor you to reality as the sheer consciousness is viciously and thoroughly fucked out of you. Brain melting and going straight to that wild, fluttery pit in your stomach that thirsts to boil over.

You throw your head back against the wall, otherwise limp with jellified limbs if not for James being your pillar. Sensing what you're about to do, he cements his hand to your mouth again, forcing you to swallow the lewd moan that's heavy on your sex-liquored tongue.

"Jesus Christ," James marvels at you, his gaze falling to watch your soaked cunt withstand every vicious stroke of his cock into the channel of your insides. You squeeze your eyes shut as James' rhythm falls faster in a never-ending inward thrust. The pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit, and gives it a few overzealous swipes. Your body replies with a wobble. Then the squelch of cum as your aching hole gushes around him, pulsing and milking his cock to follow in your actions and just let go.

Your head swings back and forth between keeping James here for a little while longer and finishing him off to send him back onstage. If you concentrate hard, you can hear Lars' yells for James sandwiched between panicked "fuck"s.

James is hitting something tender and spongy when he finally finishes. His whole body shudders, his shoulders tensed, and his hands locking around you, iron-gripped. He gives a few shallow, half-hearted thrusts just to get it all out of his system (until tonight, inevitably).

"Fuck," He sighs, easing out of you with one hand, the other gingerly guiding your leg down. He fixes himself up, tucking his half-hard dick into his jeans. He swipes his beer off the one lonely shelf mounted on the wall, greedily swallowing it down his throat.

"Keep that pussy juicy, sweetheart. M'gonna eat it later." He grins, giving you a pat on the hip before reality hits him, and he rushes out of the room in a blur for his encore. You're left with the reek of sex and the syrup of mingling cum between your legs.

[ex0rin]

Ash & Lars Garver | No Exit (2022)

[oros-ash3s]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⋆ Febuwhump 2025 ⋆˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊

Day 10 || “Magic Exhaustion”

As soon as the portal snapped shut, the boy collapsed. 

He was the last of the survivors to come through, the portal flickering dangerously as he stumbled into the diner, exhaustion and adrenaline clinging to his stocky figure. The stench of blood, grease, and hamburger meat hung in the air, nauseating to the new arrivals. Without the portal for illumination, the room was much darker and unsettling, casting a gloomy shadow over the other teenagers.

A fitting mood, for what they had just escaped from.

The rest of the group was scattered about, shaky and numb as their last connection to the outside world, to Diantha Rose as they knew it, shut off with a blink. Most didn’t pay the final boy’s appearance much attention, too busy as they scrambled to tend to the wounded. But one member in particular was hysterical, leaping to her feet and sprinting to his side. 

“Felix!”

Reagan let out a guttural scream as her brother reappeared, his legs buckling from underneath him almost instantly. She was just quick enough to scoop him into her arms as he crumpled, shivering and cold, the last of his strength sapped from his bones. 

“Felix- Felix, oh my- oh my god.” 

He was wheezing, breaths brittle and weak, barely making it past his lips. His face was scratched and bruised, something she hadn’t been able to notice while in the chaos of the school, running around desperately for an exit. Blood trickled down one of his temples, crimson smearing against his skin. His eyes fluttered, struggling against the waves of exhaustion that had begun to roll over him, the effort of the night finally hitting him. 

He was out before she even had the chance to say another word. 

Sorry that it’s a bit of a shorter one today!! I feel really fatigued and sick and I have tons of homework I need to get to 💀💀 Hopefully the quality picks up again soon ^^

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[burning-academia-if]

here's a prompt, it's inspired by a nancy drew episode: truth serum has been poured in the drinks at a party, how do the ros react when they are about to confess their feelings to mc, do they, in the middle of their sentence, try to avoid finishing it by stuffing food in their mouth/drink more/leave/etc.? or do they actually confess because they don't even realize what comes out of their mouth until it's too late?

Random but I follow that video game polls blog and they've been going through all the Nancy Drew games and it's been making me nostalgic. Seeing this is my inbox feels really timely because of it lol

Rook: He is eating so fast and so furiously, because he is not confessing Any of That. And then he makes an exit stage left. The confession comes out in the middle of an empty hallway, and he tries to calm himself because it's the first time something like that has ever been spoken out loud. He'll do damage control later. He just...really needs a minute.

Beck: He doesn't need a truth serum to confess his feelings, and he lets the words roll off his tongue without much of a fight. He has feelings for you. Saying it is simple. It doesn't matter who hears to him, since it isn't like he's ashamed. He might be worried about your reaction, with how sudden the confession is, but he's not going to hide it.

Rhea: She covers her mouth with her hand when she realizes what she's about to say. It comes out muffled, but even though the words are undecipherable, the look on her face and the widening of her eyes speaks the truth instead. She doesn't run away, but she freezes for a moment, anxiety in her stomach waiting for your reaction.

Zoe: They say it before they realize what exactly they've said. It isn't until there's a reaction from others that it all catches up to them and they straighten their back in their chair. They stammer over their words, immediately reaching for an excuse but not being able to get to one because of the truth serum and finally just excuse themself for a moment to catch their breath, deeply mortified.

Lars: He doesn't like that the first time he stated his growing feelings out loud is in the midst of chaos and forced from his lips. He'd rather it be a private affair, away from prying eyes and judgemental stares. Still, he doesn't exactly fight himself from stating his confession, either. He'll deal with the details later. If anything, he's less concerned about his confession and who the hell administered the truth serum to everyone

???: It's more an open secret what their feelings are towards you. In the midst of a crowd, their main concern is how people will treat you, knowing how it is they see you, regardless of how you see them. It's something they know should be secret, and so they bite their lip hard and flee before the confession is out. They're desperate to confess, but they're also desperate to keep you safe from harm

[ilovetheriddler]

either lars or egon generic fluffy night in please!!

Yay! I love that idea. It's so cute! I hope you enjoy it!

A Hauntingly Pleasent Evening.

(Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire.) Lars Pinfield x F!Reader.

Word Count: 708.

Contents: Fluff! A bunch of Fluff! Petnames, Affection.

You let out a sigh of relief as you cooked dinner. Tonight was going to be perfect. You were going to make sure of it! You had somehow managed to convince your boyfriend Lars to actually take tonight off from work, which wasn't an easy thing to talk him into! It was both something that annoyed you slightly and that you loved about him. He was extremely dedicated and passionate about his job.

You had spent the last few weeks planning this. You were going to make his favorite meal for dinner, and then you were both going to cozy up on the couch together and watch a movie or maybe a series, and finally afterward, you'd both get ready for bed and snuggle up with each other, in other words, your ideal evening staying in.

A pair of arms being wrapped around your waist caused you to feel a bit flustered, Lars resting his face in the crook of your neck as you cooked, his breath fanning over your ear lightly as he spoke.

"What are you making, Sweetheart?"

"Your favorite."

He let out a slightly amused chuckle.

"Is that so? And what's the special occasion then?"

"There is none, I just want tonight to be perfect."

He kissed your neck gently and then removed his arms from around you waist, walking back towards the living room to sit down.

"You're genuinely too sweet to me, my love."

"Don't be ridiculous, Lars. You deserve it, I mean, think of all of the people that you've helped by getting rid of those ghosts? So I think you being drowned in affection on one of your rare days not spent at work is perfectly reasonable!"

A look crossed Lars' features as he sat down on the couch, clearly pondering your words briefly, before a gentle smile graced his lips. He let out a soft laugh as he watched you.

"I suppose you're right, darling."

After dinner, the two of you were snuggled up together on the couch, wrapped up in a cozy blanket as you watched ironically enough, different shows about ghost hunting, with Lars eagerly pointing out their mistakes and if their equipment would actually potentially work.

You couldn't help but let out a content sigh as Lars nuzzled his face against your neck, planting sweet, gentle kisses up and down it.

"Lars, it's difficult to focus on the show when you're being like this...."

He let out a small hum, attempting to act like he was clueless as to what you meant.

"Like what? Whatever do you mean, my dear?"

You'd be a bit more frustrated with being distracted if you didn't love him so much, but you did, so you'd just have to deal with his kisses and cuddling, which honestly you weren't really going to complain about. You'd often tell Lars that you didn't really mind that he worked so late, which meant you rarely got as much affection from him as you wanted. But truth be told, it ate away at you sometimes, having to fall asleep most nights long before he got home, sometimes going days without getting to see him face to face during particularly busy days for him, it made moments like these, moments were you could both just bask in each others company and affection mean so much to you.

As it got later in the evening, you and lars started to get ready for bed. You stood at the sink, brushing your teeth while he was preoccupied showering, humming a soft tune as he washed his hair. Gosh, you loved his fluffy hair. It was always just so heavenly to run your fingers through. You made your way into the bedroom after a bit and laid down on the bed, crawling under the warm blankets. Lars exited the bathroom not long after you had gotten comfortable, his hair still slightly damp from his shower, dressed only in a pair of his boxers and a long-sleeved shirt. He walked over to the bed and got under the covers next to you, pulling you closer so you were snuggled up against him. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before he turned off the bedside lamp.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight, Lars..."

[serickswrites]

Not Going to Make It

Warnings: gun, gunshots, blood, wounds, self sacrifice

Caretaker was certain they had a death wish. That was the only explanation as to why they were crouched behind a barricade, gun clutched in their hand. They had to have a death wish if they thought going after Whumper without the rest of the team was a good idea.

And now they were going to get their wish granted.

There was no way they were making out of it. Caretaker accepted their death with relative calm. But what they could not accept was that they had dragged Whumpee into this. That Whumpee would die because of their own death wish. They had to get Whumpee out of there.

They turned to Whumpee. Whumpee was crouched just as low as Caretaker, their bright eyes staring over the edge of the barricade to where the gunshots were coming from. "Whumpee," Caretaker shouted over the gunfire. "Whumpee, we need to find you a way out of here!"

"Both of us, Caretaker. We need to find a way for both of us out of here."

"We're not going to make it. But one of us can. Run as fast and far as you can. Get the team. I'll hold Whumper off as long as I can."

"No!" Whumpee shook their head. "I'm not leaving you."

"This is my fault we're in this mess. I can hold Whumper for a while yet. Just go!"

"We're both going to make it out of here, Caretaker. I know it!"

Before Caretaker could argue back, Whumpee vaulted over the barricade, firing their gun at Whumper. "Whumpee!" Caretaker shouted as their heart pounded. What had they done?

"Run, Caretaker! I'm right behind you. I--" Whumpee's words were cut off as a bullet ripped through their body, exiting out of their back in a spray of blood.

"Whumpee, no!" Caretaker shouted as Whumpee crumpled to a heap on the ground. The gun fire stopped, Whumper no doubt verifying their hit. Caretaker took the chance. They belly-crawled out around the barricade to get to Whumpee. They crawled quickly as they stared in horror at the ever-growing pool of blood beneath Whumpee. Whumpee didn't so much as move while Caretaker crawled.

Without hesitating, Caretaker grabbed Whumpee's arm and pulled. They quickly hooked their arms underneath Whumpee's armpits and pulled Whumpee along. "Hold on, Whumpee, hold on." Whumpee was a complete dead weight in their arms, their chin resting on their chest.

Caretaker had to hurry. The team had to hurry. They had to get Whumpee to help soon or Whumpee was not going to make it. "Hold on, Whumpee, hold on," Caretaker muttered as they wracked their brain for a plan to get out of there. Whumpee didn't have long. "Just please, hold on."

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[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Forced Family- Part 6

Part 5

Hero collapsed on the hotel bed. They had been up for over eighteen hours. No matter what they tried, they hadn’t been able to sleep on the flight. They weren’t sure if that was because of the altitude or their own worry, but it didn’t matter now. Hero quickly drifted off before they could think about showering or changing into sleepwear.

Hero was back on the rooftop with Villain. Villain was holding them close, their familiar warmth enveloping them.

“Why don’t you love me anymore, Hero?” Villain asked sadly, stroking Hero’s hair.

Hero froze in place, Villain’s touch no longer comforting, but suffocating. They tried to push Villain away, but they held them fast.

“Let me go!” Hero cried, but their voice barely rose above a whisper.

The rooftop erupted in flames, engulfing the pair.

“Come back with me,” Villain said, their voice echoing over the blaze, “I love you, hero.”

The fire was just about to consume them when Hero bolted upright in bed with a shout. They panted, cold sweat making their clothes cling to them. They looked around the room and breathed a sigh of relief. No one was here, it was just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. Hero got up to get a drink of water. They didn’t want to go back to sleep straight away. Out of the corner of their eye, they saw a shadow move. Hero froze.

Hero quietly formed two ice shards, approaching the spot where the shadow moved. They were just about to pull back the curtain when a weight barreled into them, pinning them to the floor.

“I got them!” Sidekick whisper-shouted.

Hero knew it wasn’t very heroic, but they opened their mouth to scream. Hopefully someone would hear them and- too late. Sidekick stuffed a cloth in their mouth at rapid speed and before they knew it, the gag had been secured with several layers of industrial tape wrapped around their head.

“MMM!” Hero tried.

Hero shot beams of ice upward, launching Sidekick off of them. They bolted to the door, but Villain blocked their exit.

“Hero, calm down!” Villain whisper-hissed.

Hero stared with wide, fearful eyes. They shot another beam of ice, which Villain easily melted with a shield of fire. Hero glanced at the window. It was their only chance. They made a beeline for it, but Supervillain appeared in the fire escape.

“Hero, stop,” they said sternly.

Hero glanced wildly around the room as the criminal family closed in around them. They shot a blast of ice in a wide arc, but Villain melted it with a counter-attack. Hero began to hyperventilate. Not again, they couldn’t go back, they couldn’t. They were cornered, they didn’t know what to do.

A sharp pinch in their neck told them they had lost. Hero screamed into the gag, falling to the floor on their knees. They sobbed and cried, holding their hands over their eyes. Villain approached them slowly, crouching down next to them.

“Hero,” they said quietly, “it’s okay- it’s all going to be okay.”

Hero shook their head as their mind and body started to slow down.

“Mm…” they sniffled.

Hero collapsed on the floor, unable to remain kneeling. Villain caught them and held them close.

“Shh,” they soothed, “we’re going home. Just sleep, we’ll take care of everything.”

Against their attempts to fight it, Hero quickly drifted off in Villain’s arms. Supervillain lifted Hero’s suitcase and led the family out of the hotel room. They’d be home soon.

Part 7

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[artemisrogers]

hiii, i really love your writing! could you write about black album era lars ulrich x reader where the reader is a virgin and has her first time with lars, and at first, he promises to go slow and be gentle but gradually gets super rough, degrading her, and talking dirty to her in danish? 🙏

I can definitely do this! Sorry it took so long. I love whenever Lars speaks dainish and his accent! Let me know what you think ❤️

Love Languages Lars Ulrich and Reader

I managed to get my first Metallica concert tickets after saving up and working my ass off. My dream has always been to meet at least one of the members but mostly Lars Ulrich. I had a huge secret crush on him. Not only was he attractive and goofy, but I adored whenever he spoke in his native tongue. Something about it just makes my heart do flip flops. What I didn't expect was to get the attention of Lars and get backstage.

When I showed the security guards my VIP pass they let me backstage. Of course James Jason and Kirk were all there talking and signing stuff with different fans. I noticed that Lars kept making eye contact with me almost like he was checking me out. When I was up next to get my black album cd signed by him that's when he spoke with that adorable accent.

"Hello there what's your name?"

"Y/N Mr Ulrich. It's an honor to be able to meet you in person."

"Call me Lars please makes me feel less old haha!" Lars said his cute laugh coming out.

We talked for a few minutes and got to know each other a little bit. I didn't expect the next thing to come out of his mouth though as he switched from English to his language.

"Taler du overhovedet dansk? Du virker som typen, der ville lære sprog i sin fritid."

Dainish? Holy shit! I nodded explaining my mom was Dainish. Lars told me he grew up in Copenhagen with his dad. When the meet and greet was over I was about to walk to the exit when Lars grabbed my arm gently.

"Sweetheart where you going? I told one the security guards that you'd be spending some time in my dressing room with me. If you want to that is, your very beautiful y/n." Lars said his eyes bright blue.

I froze realizing what that meant for me. I was both nervous and excited as I nod my head. We walk to his dressing room and once we're both inside he closed the door and locked it. I swallowed softly as I am still a virgin. I shyly spoke up before he could make a move. I didn't expect to catch his attention like this let alone think he'd find me attractive.

"Um you know I'm a virgin still right? I'm not experienced with sex and all that stuff, hope I didn't burst your bubble." I said Lars' eyes widened with shock.

"Well then we can go slow and gentle ok? If you don't want to anything we don't have to I will not make you feel uncomfortable ok Lillie blomst?

I nodded as Lars tilted my head up pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. I clumsily kissed him back as I slowly got the hang of kissing him. He tastes sweet and of sweat. Lars tilted my head as our lips moved against each other. His tounge slide along my lips asking for permission. When I let him in his tounge explors my mouth as I steady my now warm body on his arms. Lars broke the kisses and placed a few kisses on my forehead and face.

For a drummer he was pretty fit and took care of himself. I looked at him asking if I could touch his chest. He gave me a nod and guided my hands to his chest. He definitely has pecs and is toned. I did something out of impulse and kissed his chest over his shirt. I heard Lars' breath hitched his pupils blown up. I heard him groan softly when I did that making me blush.

"Sorry I um had an impulse."

"Don't be sorry I actually like that. Kinda hot honestly lille blomst."

"O-ok um can I do that again?" I asked.

Lars nodded as he stepped back and took off his shirt. I gasped softly having seen him shirtless many times on stage. Seeing him shirtless in this moment felt different. My body felt hot and all of a sudden Lars pulls me flushed against him.

"Kiss my chest again sweetheart."

I placed another kiss on his sternum making me groan again. It was like a switch flipped in him as he pinned me to the wall. His lips crashed onto my own as he yanked my hair caging me in as his kisses got rougher and rougher.

"Fuck, du smager godt, jeg knepper denne jomfruelige fisse så hårdt, at du vil råbe mit navn!" Lars said in dainish.

I heard myself make noises I didn't think were possible. Lars ripped off my shirt exposing my blue bra and unhooked my bra roughly. I felt myself feeling a strange substance soaking through my jeans as lars' lips wrapped around a nipple and a low growl escaped from him. My hands found their way into his hair tugging at it gently.

"Mmph! Bliv ved med det, så sørger jeg for, at du ikke kan "gå om morgenen"-luder! Se, du er så forbandet ivrig efter, at min pik skal knække den jomfruelige fisse, hva?" Lars said as he backed me into the black couch and bent me over the arm of the couch.

My jeans joined my panties as my ass and virgin cunt was exposed. I heard him fumble with his jeans as I felt something hard and warm hit my ass cheek, making me gasp nervously. Lars kissed and bit at my shoulders as he spread my legs open. He shoved two fingers into my tight pussy making me moan loudly. My back did something in making Lars smack my ass hard.

"Slut get ready to lose that virginity. I'm gonna fill you up so full I'll get you nice and pregnant." Lars said giving my ass a nip as his tip pushed into my virgin hole. I felt searing pain the more he pushed in, Lars distracted me with kisses on my shoulder blades and back.

"Lille blomst no longer. Oh fuck you feel good! There it is I deflowered you!" Lars said as something broke inside me.

Lars' hips snapped hard and fast into my pussy making me scream with pleasure. His strong arms grabbed one of my legs making him hit inside at angles I didn't think were possible. I felt a knot forming in my stomach as I felt a lot of pressure.

"A-ahh too much! Stop oh God mmm!"

"Let it go sweetheart cum on my dick for the first time!"

Another hard smack to my ass leaving a handprint and I felt my whole body shake. Lars grunted as I felt warmth inside my pussy. Lars shoved in a few more hard thrusts before collapsing ontoy back. Both of us panted heavily as his now soft dick slip out my pussy. This was it I'm no longer a virgin and he was my first! Lars sat on his couch and pulled me next to him so we were kinda spooning.

"You're gonna feel sore as fawk in the morning sweetheart." Lars said a his hand fanned out on my stomach.

"I love you Lars."

"I love you too sweetheart. More than you think and I'm not letting my lille blomst go away from me anytime soon."

We gave each another kiss but this time it was soft. We heard a knock on the door followed by James' rough voice telling Lars about getting on the tour bus. Lars laughed softly and helped me get dressed as well as him. His hand on the small of my back we walked to the tour bus earning a look a raised eyebrow from James.

[chaoticsolsworld]

“Shelter from the Storm” Ash Garver x Reader (No Exit)

Author’s note: This is Romance with Slow Burn, Canon Events, Comfort Amid Crisis. Warnings: Canon-typical tension, psychological stress, light emotional manipulation (It’s Ash what do we expect?)

You’d known Ash Garver for less than two hours when you started to feel like you knew somethingabout him.

He was charming in a suave but lazy, crooked kind of way. The kind of man who made a joke just to see how you’d react. He was warm on the outside, but you could feel something colder…something more intense underneath, something calculating. And yet, when your fingers trembled as you poured yourself coffee in the poorly lit rest stop, it was him who noticed first.

“You alright there?” he asked, voice low and easy like molasses. “Hands look like they’re about to bail on you.”

You glanced up, startled. You hadn’t expected kindness. Not from a stranger. Not from him. Not in a snowstorm. Not when something about this place felt wrong.

“Just cold,” you lied.

Ash looked at you a second longer than he needed to. “Cold,” he repeated, then slipped off his jacket and handed it to you.

You blinked. “I’m okay—”

“Just take it,” he said, cutting you off… “You’ll warm up faster than that heater ever will.”

You hesitated, then slid it over your arms. It was heavier than you expected. Warm. It smelled faintly like sawdust and cedar and snowfall, but there was something else—like someone who lived on the edge but liked soft things anyway.

You sat across from him at one of the wooden tables. The others, Darby, Sandi, Lars—were scattered in various states of unease. You felt it too. The stillness before something broke.

Ash leaned back, arms crossed, studying the others with unreadable eyes. Then he looked back at you.

“First time driving through this pass?” he asked casually.

“Yeah.”

He nodded. “Bad timing. Weather’s a real bitch.”

You smirked a little. “Yeah, well, at least the company’s… interesting.”

A flicker of something crossed his face, humor, maybe. “That it is,” he murmured, then leaned in, voice a little lower. “Stick close, yeah? People get jumpy in storms like this.”

You searched his face. “You saying I should trust you?”

He shrugged with a smirk. “I’m saying I don’t like seeing you scared.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Maybe because he said it so calmly. Maybe because it was the first honest thing anyone had said all night.

“Why?” you asked quietly.

Ash looked at you a moment. “Don’t know. Maybe because it makes me feel like there’s still something good to protect.”

The heater buzzed in the background. Outside, snow swallowed the world. Inside, you held his jacket tighter around your shoulders and tried not to fall for a man you couldn’t quite figure out. A man who made you feel safer and more unsure than anyone else in that place.

And even when the night started to unravel, when truths cracked open and blood stained the snow, you remembered the quiet between you. The puffer jacket. The warmth. The part of Ash that wanted to be good, even if he didn’t know how to be.