#james hetfield

[polar-3clipse]

James and his fuckass mullet❤️❤️

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Anything distantly farm related with James has me man

Gardening with him

Watching him and his little beekeeping hobby

Sucking his tiddies like he’s a cow 🤤

james in overalls

okay that’s all i needed to say thank you

[saul-gone-man]

HATE! I’M YOUR HATE!

[metallicames]

From: "yes Sir I'll take your daughter home at 10 pm"

To: "Your daughter calls me daddy too"

@metalmaidenn our minds always connected

[mentalmilkshakes]

James & Kirk

[wizard-on-whales]

Obsession so bad Pinterest sends me emails about him

[duffsmckagan]

It’s 2025 and we still do not have James’s sex tape filmed by Kirk 😔.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

I want james to be so mad at me that he fucks me as rough and deep as it gets. Oh! And throw a spit kink for good measure. (Please)

Warnings: smut, rough sex, degradation, praise kink, spit kink, implied age gap and height difference, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

This picture and him talking you through touching yourself 🤤

It was a rough tour, Lars was unusually annoying, which was a hard feat for even him. James was getting finally sober and it was taking everything in him to not head to the nearest bar after the show.

They had hotels for the night, which didn’t happen often so he was excited, or he would be if he wasn’t feeling violently angry.

He just flopped over into bed, still in his clothes from the show. He knew he had to change and shower while he could but he couldn’t bring himself to. Then there was a knock at the door.

“What?!” James called, barely holding himself up from the bed. You called for him but didn’t say anything else before knocking again. You were just a crew member sent to inform him of the flight delays for the next morning. “What! What the fuck do you want?!” He yelled again.

You flinched from the other side of the door. “I-I need to come in, sir.” You stammered out, already feeling like this was a bad idea. Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard his heavy footsteps coming across the room.

The door swung open and you were met face to face with all six feet of James’s fury. He grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and pushed you across the slim hallway, pinning you to the wall. “Speak.” He ordered.

You held his wrists but it did nothing to get him off of you. “Uh, there-there’s a storm coming, all flights are grounded until, uh, until further notice… I think…” you explained, squeaking out the last part.

“You think?” He asked, lifting you off the ground. “Are you fucking kidding me? You come here with news like that and you just think?!” He stared at you a moment, seeing the panic in your eyes. He pulled away from you, letting you down again. “Spit or swallow?” He asked. Your face flushed a deep shade of red. “Forget it, doesn’t matter, c’mere.” He ordered, leading you into his room.

To say you didn’t find James attractive was just a lie, a terrible one. He was big and tall and you’d heard every story about him in bed, even finding groupies after they got out of his dressing room and asking about him. He’d caught you staring at him, which was why he figured you’d be fine with this, and you were, but you were still caught way off guard.

He was kissing your neck and saying you looked pretty like the girls all said. He pushed you on the bed and ordered you to strip, which you obviously obliged.

“Wait.” He said once you’d gotten down to your panties and bra, a matching lacy lingerie set. “What’re you wearing that for?” He asked. ��Expecting someone?” He pushed you further onto the bed, making you lay down. He was only in his boxers as well, you’d been eyeing him closely, from his muscular legs, the pudge of his belly, the hair trailing out of his waistband and under his arms, his tattoos. You could feel the heat between your legs.

“Maybe…” You said, trying to play along with him, but it was hard when he was already pissed and scary, and so fucking hot.

“Fucking whore.” He bit, hovering over you, pushing your legs up. “That’s why you came up here, isn’t it? Hoping I’d finally fuck you, right?” His hand came down on your thigh, making you yelp. “Swallow, pretty girl.” He ordered. You opened your mouth, wanting to be disgusted as he spat into your mouth, but you couldn’t be, you loved it, the taste of him, of cigarettes in his saliva as it slid down your throat. “Good girl, guess you could be good for something.”

That’s all you ever wanted to be, a good girl for him. You yearned for his praise, aching for his attention and affection, you were made for him, made to be his perfect cocksleeve.

“Be quiet, the walls are thin.” He grunted, pushing his tip into your cunt. You bit your lip, muffling the moan you wanted to let out as he slammed the rest of his cock into you. He had no remorse of sympathy, not waiting for you to get used to him before pounding you.

He pushed your knees into your chest, feet over his shoulders as he folded you in half. You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet, he filled you up just right, cock stretching you out so good.

“Doing your best and you still can’t shut up.” He said through gritted teeth. “Pretty good sock, though, let me hear how easy you are.” You didn’t hesitate, jaw dropping as moans flooded past your lips. You gripped the sheets tightly in you fists, this was all you’d wanted since the tour started. “Fuck, what a good little slut.”

Your head fell back. “Oh fuck, James!” You moaned, back arching off the bed. He smiled widely, proud of how quickly he could ruin you, didn’t even have to find your g-spot, his cock hit every spot without even trying, each harsh snap of his hips bringing you closer to the edge.

“Gonna cum?” He asked, laughing at how close you were, how fast he brought you to orgasm. “Come on then, soak my cock like the whore you are, fucking milk it with your pretty little puss.” His words were so filthy, praise hidden in degrading words, it made the knot in your stomach tighten and snap. You were practically screaming and his thrusts were relentless, still chasing his own high. “Fuck- take it, take it like a good girl.” He said, taking your face in his hand and holding it in place, making you look up at him as you still rode out your high.

With a few more thrusts he came, filling you to the brim with his salty cocktail. His breathing was heavy as he pulled out of you, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Sit there.” He mumbled, getting up and heading to the bathroom.

He returned a moment later with a wet cloth, wiping you down. “Gonna keep you with me, alright?” He said, leaning down and kissing your temple. “You’re a good cumdump, don’t say no, getting off on being called a whore… dumb slut.” You smiled proudly up at him and he chuckled, tossing the cloth away.

He got you out of your lingerie and gave you his shirt, he fixed himself in his boxers and pulled you under the covers with him, getting you comfortable. “Gonna train you to be my bitch, understood?”

[hitsaump3china]

HELP

[musicmags]

[visualgodblog]

[0bs3ss3d0fc]

the only man ever

We don’t talk abt full beard and moustache James enough😍😍

(everything found on pintrest)

[bleedthafreak]

hello😁 do u mind writing something like 1991 james screwing reader that’s in a new band and the bands meet eachother or something & obviously it eventually leads to getting absolutely piped LOLOL thxthxthx

The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the sharp scent of sweat, a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion. It was the usual chaos of a backstage area—roadies hauling gear, musicians nursing drinks, the occasional groupie slipping through security. The band had just wrapped up their first opening slot for the tour, still high on the rush of playing for a crowd bigger than anything they'd seen before.

She still wasn’t used to this. Being on tour, having to bite back the urge to fangirl over the bands she had posters of back home. She gripped her drink tightly, her heart racing with excitement more than nerves, soaking in every moment like a dream she didn’t want to wake up from.

And then there was him.

James Hetfield was all confidence and raw magnetism, moving through the crowd like he belonged in every room he walked into. Which, in a way, he did. He barely needed to glance in her direction, but when he did, it was with an intensity that made her stomach tighten

"Nice set," he said, voice husky from whiskey and years of screaming into microphones.

She hesitated, gripping her beer. "Thanks. You too. Obviously."

His laugh was a low rumble, and the next thing she knew, they were talking—about music, touring, the thrill of the stage. The alcohol made her loosen up, her shy exterior cracking. She found herself gushing a little, the fan side of her slipping out between slurred words.

"I mean, it’s Metallica. You guys are fucking legends," she blurted, cheeks warm from the booze and too tipsy to be embarrassed. "I used to try and copy your guitar tone. Never got it right, though. You just—fuck, you play like you mean it."

James let out a low chuckle, taking a sip of his drink. "That’s ‘cause I do mean it. Every note, every riff—it’s gotta come from somewhere real, or people can tell when it’s bullshit." He tilted his head slightly, eyes locked onto hers. "That’s why you were good tonight. You felt it."

Her breath hitched slightly, caught off guard by the compliment. "I—uh—thanks."

He leaned in closer, voice dropping. "You ever wonder what else could feel real?"

One drink turned into two, into three, and at some point, she realized just how close they were standing. She wasn’t sure who moved first, only that one second they were still talking, and the next, he had her pressed against the wall of a dressing room, lips hot and demanding.

It was an accident. A heat-of-the-moment, an absolute reckless mistake. His hands were rough, calloused from years of playing, gripping her waist like he’d been waiting for this. It was rushed, filthy, desperate. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he took what he wanted, as she let herself drown in it just this once.

And then, it was over.

She was jolted awake by the sound of someone pounding on the door. Groggy and sore in ways that made her gasp, she barely had time to register her surroundings before a familiar voice called out, "Get your ass up! Bus is leaving in ten!"

Her heart pounded as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. Reality hit her like a freight train. James Hetfield. She had slept with James Hetfield. A wave of almost-regret—or maybe just overwhelming disbelief—crashed over her as she scrambled to find her clothes.

What the hell had she been thinking?

If she thought that night was a one-time thing, she was dead wrong.

That was, until she grabbed the setlist before soundcheck—and her eyes widened a bit. Right at the top, clear as day: Metallica.

They were the opening act tonight.

A flicker of nervous energy running through her. Still, she forced herself to shake it off. He was a rockstar. Hookups like that probably happened all the time for him. He probably didn’t even remember it.

So why did her pulse quicken just a little at the thought of seeing him again?

She felt a little off during the set, her focus slipping at times, fingers faltering over notes she could usually play in her sleep. It wasn’t nerves, not really—just a nagging awareness in the back of her mind. A couple of times, she caught her bandmates glancing her way. Still, she pushed through, refusing to let it distract her.

And then, after the final song, she walked offstage—only for James to suddenly appear beside her, effortlessly falling into step.

"Where you headed?" he asked, smirking.

"Uh—backstage? My room," she muttered.

"Good. I’ll walk you," he said, not giving her a choice, his hand lightly resting on her lower back as they moved through the halls.

Her heart pounded. Mind freaking out but still not speaking up or stopping him, too curious and maybe even excited.

Once they reached her dressing room, James stepped inside without hesitation, pushing the door closed behind him—but not locking it. Her breath caught as he took a slow step forward, backing her against the wall with an easy confidence, his body crowding hers.

"Happy to see me?" he asked, voice low, amused.

She bit her lip smiling, looking away. "Maybe a little."

He smirked, his fingers brushing lightly over her arm. "Good. ‘Cause I’ve been thinking about you all damn week."

James didn’t give her time to respond before his lips were on hers, urgent, rough. He backed her up until the backs of her thighs hit the table in front of the mirror. She gasped as he turned her, bending her over, pressing a hand against the small of her back.

Slipping her shorts and panties down. He spread her open with his thumbs, tracing her wet drooling pussy. "Missed me, didn’t she?" he murmured, his breath hot against her that had her shivering. "Poor thing’s been neglected all week. It’s okay, I’m back now. Gonna give her all the attention she needs."

Before she could react, his mouth was on her, sucking her clit into his mouth before licking deep, his beard scraping against her soft skin. Her moans filled the small room, her thighs trembling as he devoured her like a man starved.

"Fuck, james!" She said loudly, gripping the edge of the table as her vision was looking fuzzy.

He groaned against her, tongue fucking into her before pulling back to whisper, "So damn sweet.”

She barely had time to catch her breath before he stood, grabbing her face so she can look at herself in the mirror. "Look at yourself," he ordered. "Look at how fucking wrecked you are and i haven’t even pounded you yet." Letting her head fall as he went to unzip his pants and pull out his cock.

It was thick and hard as he moved it up and down against her, smiling as he watched her juices lube him up before pushing himself in, stretching her inch by inch. The wet squelch filled the air, mixing with their heavy breathing. He gripped her chin, forcing her to watch herself as he fucked into her. "God, you take me so well," he groaned. "Still fucking tight as last time."

Her moans grew higher, her body tensing as her orgasm built. James’ grip tightened on her hips, his thrusts growing rougher, deeper, his balls slapping against her soaked cunt with each snap of his hips. The wet squelch of their bodies colliding echoed in the small room, filthy and unrelenting.

"Fuck—listen to that," he groaned, voice thick with lust. "So messy, sweetheart. You gonna make a mess for me?"

She gasped, fingers scrambling for purchase against the table, her legs trembling as he fucked her harder, his cock hitting that spot that had her seeing stars.

"That’s it," he murmured, leaning over her, his breath hot against her ear. "Come on, let me feel you."

Her body gave in, her walls clenching tight around him as her orgasm crashed over her. A cry ripped from her throat, her whole body trembling as pleasure overtook her. James cursed, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own high, but then he suddenly slowed, laughing darkly.

"Shit, sweetheart…" He pulled back just slightly, enough for her to feel the emptiness before slamming back in, making her cry out. "Anyone could walk in and see you like this, bent over, dripping for me."

The thought sent a shiver down her spine, a whimper escaping her lips. "James—"

"Yeah? You like that?" He grinned against her neck, rolling his hips in slow, deep strokes that had her squirming, overstimulated but desperate for more. "Bet you’d just let ‘em watch, huh? Let ‘em see how good I fuck you?"

"Shut up," she gasped, but the way she clenched around him betrayed her.

James chuckled, his grip bruising as he pounded into her harder. "Not when you’re squeezing me like that. You want more, don’t you?"

She couldn’t answer, couldn’t form words—only breathy moans as another orgasm built fast and sharp. He felt it, too, his thrusts growing desperate, relentless.

"Come again for me, sweetheart. One more time."

The coil in her stomach winding tighter, but this time, she didn’t just take it—she moved. Bracing herself, she began rocking back against him, meeting his thrusts with eager desperation, her ass smacking against his hips with each bounce. The obscene squelch of their bodies filled the air, mixing with her breathy whimpers and his low, guttural groans.

"Fuck, look at you," he rasped, gripping her hips tighter, watching in the mirror as she fucked herself onto his cock. "So eager. You gonna take what you need, sweetheart?"

She gasped, nodding frantically, her fingers slipping on the table as she arched her back, pushing him deeper. "James—fuck—gonna—"

"Yeah, you are," he growled, snapping his hips harder, making her cry out. "Come for me. Let me feel it."

A broken sob left her lips as her body trembled, her legs threatening to give out. James cursed under his breath, his movements growing erratic before he suddenly pulled out, stroking himself quickly. With a deep groan, he spilled hot and thick over her ass, admiring it for a little before tugging her panties back up. He smirked as he watched his cum seep into the fabric before grabbing her shorts, sliding them up her shaky legs.

He started at her back, pressing slow, lingering kisses along her spine before moving to her shoulder, then up to her neck. Each touch was deliberate, teasing. He chuckled softly as she shivered beneath him, still trying to catch her breath, her body weak from pleasure. 

Yeah she had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a one time thing.

can i please get 5 big booms from you guys (reblogs)

[the-mighty-het-speaks]

Amsterdam - April 20, 2023

"These two…brothers…forever. They just “get” each other. M72 saw both take very different directions in terms of how they “found” their performances night after night. Lars became wholly focused and dedicated to doing everything physically and mentally possible to ensure the tightest performances he could produce. James fully embraced the concepts of joy and spontaneity (the word “mistake” was essentially banished to a dark room somewhere back in 1989-93). Subsequently, the band sounded excellent, in part because their different approaches yielded the best possible alchemy for the collective." - Steff Chirazi, So What! Editor

[metallicames]

Shall we talk about the perfect amount of hair on the chest and belly? Or the sweat that defines every little detail of his body?? the way he holds the guitar with the those fuckin' fingers??? the nose ring??? HIM????