Save The Drums Bang The Drummer ᯓ★

that girl is more strong than me, I would have already jumped on him

AND HE HAS TO LOWER SO MUCH TO EQUAL HEIGHT WITH HER

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

waist coat gee moodboard!<33

I was wondering if you could do a headcannon of being the only women in Mötley cruë and how the boys would act with you.

𝐌Ö𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐂𝐑Ü𝐄 𝐇𝐂𝐒.

warnings — none.

a/n — i love writing soft shit about the craziest bastards ever <3 anyways, just a reminder that i don’t write pregnancy content nor hardcore smut. if you guys want to see who i’m writing for, what i write about, etc. PLEASE check my pinned post which explains everything. 💋💋 lemme know what you wanna see me post.

+ starting with the obvious… FLIRTING WITH ALL YOUR FRIENDS, FLIRTING WITH YOUR MOM, FLIRTING WITH YOU (and your fucking grandma let’s bffr).

+ you def have to check who they’re hooking up with when they’re too high to make sure they don’t accidentally fuck a hooker and have to pay $400.

+ they didn’t respect you at first to be honest. not in a non-feminism way but in a ‘ooh you have boobs, me likey’ way.

+ but then you gain their respect prettyyyy quickly…

+ “y/n please flash us, it’ll be a good show if you do!!!” 🙏🙏

+ you’re pretty much one of the dudes by the end of the first show, being their mom on tour and making sure they don’t die

+ making a bet that you’ll hook up with one of them if they can just pick who. and after a day of thought, they all continuously argue about it. and tommy thinks he’ll win (he doesn’t).

+ having a little fling with a gnr member… resulting in vince threatening him anddd the rest of the guys beat him up if he even looks at you the wrong way.

+ they’re SO protective over you. even if they’re drunker than hell, they’ll snap out of immediately for you.

+ they def call you their crush in interviews.

+ very flirty with you (yes i had to mention this again, so you understand the severity).

+ overall just being best fucking friends.

where are my new kurt cobain imagines guys? 😭😭😭

how can this fandom so dry, all content is like, 3 years ago 💔

I hate i hate i HATE being a switch bc I could be domming and then they could say something remotely hot in a dominant tone and I'd stutter and get shy and fold SO FAST. ugh.

i love illegal movie websites

“you’re gonna get a virus on your phone”

i love illegal movie websites

KIRK KIRK KIRK KIRK

These 2 walk into a bar who you going to go home with?

could you do subby Hollywood rose era Axl? Like he’s tied down n stuff and he gets kinda frustrated cuz reader isn’t going at his pace?

Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving), reader slaps Axl's dick once, spit kink at the end, mommy kink, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Masterlist

Axl groaned lowly, his head tilted back and his eyes fluttering. "Pick up the pace, sweetheart." He mumbled, deep voice a rumble in the quiet room.

You lightly trailed a finger up his length, watching every twitch of his leaky cock. "No." You said, moving your finger back down. "This is fun, you just need to learn to be patient."

Axl rolled his eyes at you and bucked his hips up, searching for any form of friction. You slapped his cock, his breath caught in his throat.

You raised the hand that was on his dick to his chin, lifting his head up with two fingers. "I said, be. Fucking. Patient." You bit, pecking his lips and smiling condescendingly down at him.

Axl huffed but he refused to let you see the real affect you were having on him. He wanted to moan and whine and beg for you to let him cum, he was barely choking back all the little sounds he wanted to make.

He tugged at the velvety rope holding his wrists together, his back against the cold wood of the bedframe. You sat between his legs as he sat completely naked in front of you.

"You're so pretty." You mused, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock. Axl didn't hesitate to start moving his hips. You didn't stop him but you didn't help him with what he was trying to do.

"M'not fucking pretty." He grunted.

You pursed your lips at him, cocking your head to the side. "Aw, poor baby, so needy and whiny." Axl huffed, nose scrunching. You moved down the bed, laying a few kitten licks to his tip. "Needs mommy to help him get off."

A soft whimper escaped him and your eyes shot up to meet his glassy ones. A wide grin spread across your face. "Sweet boy, let mommy help." Your lips parted to take him in your mouth.

He couldn't stop it anymore, head falling back as a loud moan left him, hips rutting to meet your face. "Agh-! Oh, god!" He groaned, doing everything he could to get friction. "Fuck-fucking move!" He whined, looking down at you with pleading eyes.

He was begging so nicely... in an Axl kind of way... you couldn't say no to him.

You slowly brought your head up and sunk back down on his dick, nose brushing into his ginger peach fuzz. His whimpers spurred you on and you bobbed your head faster, tongue swirling around his tip and dragging along the bottom of his cock.

The room filled with Axl's noises, like music to your ears. Drool dribbled down your chin but it was all worth it for those sweet sounds. His voice was deep, he sang high but his voice was deep and the way that passed through his moans was perfect.

"Hah- oh fuck, oh fuck-! My fucking god, mommy, please!" Tears pricked his eyes, rolling down his cheeks. "I can't- suck harder, I-I wanna cum, lemme cum!" You hollowed your cheeks around him, staring up at him as he came undone in your mouth.

You waited for the last few strings of cum to shoot from his tip before you pulled away, sitting up and placing your hands on his shoulders. He stared up at you with tired eyes and a wonky grin.

"What is it?" He asked, voice sweet and slow like honey. You ran your thumb over his bottom lip, a silent gesture for him to open his mouth. He parted his lips, you did the same and let his cum mixed with your saliva drip down your tongue into his mouth.

His eyes widened but he let it happen, swallowing and trying not to gag. You gave his cheek a pat and kissed his lips. "What a good boy." You mused.

YES LIKE WHY YOU HAVE TO BE NICE AND THEN SO MEAN W MY MOM CMON

i hate having a love-hate relationship with my dad like why are you transphobic yet have amazing music taste stop

I love love love the LSD story you did with axl and Izzy! Can you make more stories like that or maybe even another part to that one?

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞

The motel room is a shrine to bad decisions. Burnt orange wallpaper, an old Zenith TV coughing static, and a carpet that’s seen more crimes than it should have. Duff’s sprawled across the bed, long legs stretched out, flicking a Zippo open and closed. Slash is on the floor, back against the nightstand, hat tipped low, absently rolling a joint between his fingers like it’s second nature.

Then there’s you.

The acid slides into your bloodstream like a warm hand on your back, pushing you forward, forward, forward. The edges of the room melt, colors start humming. Duff’s denim jacket is speaking to you. Slash’s curls are moving like they have their own heartbeat.

“You feelin’ it yet?” Duff grins, kicking his boots off. His voice sounds like it’s coming from the other end of a long tunnel.

You nod, too slow, watching your own hand like you just discovered fingers. “It’s like… everything is everything, you know?”

Slash chuckles, lighting the joint. “Deep.” He takes a hit, passes it to Duff. “Next, you’re gonna tell me time is a lie.”

You blink. Wait. Is it?

Your mind jumps tracks. The TV static is talking to you, whispering in a language only you understand. You stand up too fast, the floor a trampoline, and suddenly the motel room isn’t a room—it’s a portal, a living thing, breathing.

“Whoa, hey—” Duff’s on his feet, hands up like he’s trying to calm a spooked horse. “You good?”

But you’re not good. The world is sliding sideways. The neon sign outside bleeds through the blinds, pulsing like a heartbeat, and you swear you can hear it thinking. The cigarette smoke curling from Slash’s lips looks like a goddamn spirit, swirling, whispering.

“I… I think—” Your throat locks up. Your skin feels wrong. Too tight. Too small.

Duff moves fast, grabs your arms before your legs forget how to hold you up. “Alright, alright. We’re gonna sit you down before you take a fuckin’ swan dive into the TV, okay?”

You’re breathing too fast. The air feels thick, like trying to inhale syrup.

Slash flicks his joint into the ashtray, eyes sharper now. “She’s spiraling.” He looks at Duff. “Get her some water. I’ll keep her grounded.”

You try to pull away. “No, no, no—water is poison, man, I see it, I see the molecules, they’re wrong, they’re all wrong—”

“Jesus Christ,” Duff mutters but heads for the sink, rattling through motel cups.

Slash leans in, voice low and steady. “Okay, look at me.” His eyes lock onto yours, dark, unwavering. “You’re okay. You just took a little too much, that’s all. It’s just chemicals in your brain, playing tricks. But you’re here. You’re safe.”

Safe. That word feels foreign, like it doesn’t belong to you.

“You’re real,” you murmur, reaching out. Your fingers graze the leather of his jacket, grounding yourself in something solid.

“Real as a motherfucker,” Slash says, a smirk tugging at his lips. “So’s Duff. So’s this room. You’re not falling apart, you just think you are.”

Duff shoves a cup into your hands. “Drink.”

You hesitate, staring at the water like it’s some alien substance. But Duff’s got that big-brother look, the one that says, Don’t argue, just do it. You sip, and it’s colder than you expected, running down your throat like a thread pulling you back to reality.

Slash exhales, watching you. “Better?”

You nod, slow. The walls aren’t breathing as much. The colors don’t seem so loud.

Duff ruffles your hair like you’re a little kid. “Atta girl.”

Slash leans back, lighting another cigarette. “You scared the shit out of us.”

You breathe, really breathe this time, and let out a shaky laugh. “Sorry.”

Duff grins, sprawling back on the bed. “Just don’t go full Fear and Loathing on us next time, alright?”

Slash smirks, blowing out smoke. “Yeah. Or at least give us a head start before you start talking to the TV.”

And just like that, the night rolls on. The trip settles, the laughter comes easy, and the room—this grimy, cigarette-stained, neon-lit box—feels a little more like home.