#jameshetfieldxreader

[nausicaamusiclover20]

I had this fantasy all day and I couldn't help but write it down

Paring: !ProfessorxStudent!reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: Explicit Content, Mature Themes,Sexual Content, mature language, Age Gap (15-year difference) Power Imbalance, Adult Themes

Playing with fire

The university had become my second home, and I loved every minute of it. The quiet spaces for studying, the hustle of students on the move, and the occasional moments of clarity when everything just clicked. It was all thrilling—except for one thing: Professor James Hetfield,the Professor, who despite the 15-year difference, I was attracted to.

He was a constant presence. Not just in the classroom, but in my thoughts. Every class, every interaction with him felt charged. He never showed favoritism, not even toward the brilliant students like me, but I couldn’t help the way his cold blue eyes always seemed to find me, to watch me. Every lecture, every question he posed, there was something about the way he looked at me—intense, almost as if he could see through the mask I wore.

The lectures were always intense, filled with complex material that many of the students struggled to understand. But for me, it was all too easy. I was always ahead of the curve, always absorbing the material faster than most. Yet, the more I proved myself, the more I felt his gaze upon me, even if he never admitted it. And somehow, it made everything even more exciting.

When the day of the final exam arrived, the weight of it felt suffocating. It wasn’t just the usual pressure of exams—it was the pressure of having to live up to the quiet challenge I had set for myself. There was something about impressing Professor Hetfield that made every question feel like a test of my worth, something that wasn’t just about getting the answers right but about making him acknowledge me in a way he had never acknowledged anyone else.

The room was filled with students, the air thick with the sounds of papers shuffling and anxious whispers. But I felt calm. Focused. As I looked around the room, I saw them all sweating, struggling over the hardest questions. But my mind was clear—methodical. I answered each question with ease, my pen flying across the page as if the answers were written in my blood. It was exhilarating to feel so confident, so ahead of the game.

It didn’t take long for me to finish. I was the first one done, though I didn’t want to leave yet. The tension between Professor Hetfield and I was like a live wire, and I wasn’t ready to break that connection just yet.

I stood, glancing briefly around the room. The other students were still scribbling away, oblivious to the fact that I was already finished. Without hesitation, I walked up to the front of the room and placed my paper gently on his desk.

Professor Hetfield was seated, marking papers with his usual cool, detached demeanor. His blue eyes flickered up to meet mine for a split second before returning to the paper in front of him. I took a seat in the front row, my hands resting on my lap, trying to keep my composure. As I sat, I felt the anticipation building in my chest. Did I make a mistake? I thought to myself. I couldn’t remember the last time I had doubted myself, but in that moment, uncertainty crept in.

What if I had missed something? What if he saw something wrong in my answers, something I had overlooked? His sharp eyes could spot even the smallest mistake, and that thought gnawed at me. I watched as he methodically went through the other papers, his eyes scanning each answer with cold precision. But when he reached my paper, he paused.

My stomach clenched.

His gaze lingered on my exam, studying it with the same cold attention he always gave everything. I couldn’t read him. Did I mess up? Was there something he had spotted in my work that I hadn’t seen? His pen stopped moving for a moment, then continued with a quick, decisive motion. I felt the silence stretching between us, my pulse quickening.

Professor Hetfield finally placed the pen down, his gaze rising to meet mine. I sat up straighter, trying to read him, but his face was unreadable.

“You finished already?” His voice was the usual low, gravelly tone, but there was something different about it today—something softer, almost impressive. “You didn’t take long.”

I swallowed, trying to maintain a cool facade. “No, I didn’t,” I replied, not trusting my voice to sound steady. He must have seen something wrong, I thought. It’s too quiet.

He looked at me for a moment longer, his eyes piercing through the calm surface of my thoughts. Was he really going to say anything?

I started to second-guess myself, wondering if he was silently critiquing every little thing in my paper. The questions were challenging, after all. But no, I told myself. I nailed it.

“Impressive,” he finally said, his voice clipped. But there was something else in it—a faint admiration buried beneath his usual coolness. “You’ve done well.”

I couldn’t help the small breath that escaped my lips. Was that... a compliment?

His blue eyes lingered on me for a moment longer than usual, a quiet intensity simmering beneath the surface. “Perfect,” he added, almost as an afterthought. His gaze softened, but just barely. “Good work, Miss Y/N.”

I felt a strange warmth spread through me. I had expected more formality, more distance, but there was something about the way he said those words that felt different, more personal. I tried to keep my composure, but my heart was beating harder now.

As the class began to file out, I remained seated for a moment, my fingers lightly brushing over the edges of my papers as I adjusted them, feeling a slight tremor in my hands. I wasn’t sure if I was still processing his words or the intensity of the moment. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to leave, or if I wanted him to say something more—anything, really.

But he didn’t. His attention moved back to the papers on his desk, the cold, professional mask returning. But I knew what had just passed between us. The tension still hung in the air, thick and undeniable. I could almost taste it. I shifted in my seat, feeling the weight of the silence pressing against me.

The room had emptied, leaving just the two of us in this quiet space. My mind raced, trying to make sense of everything. Was he still aware of me? Even as his gaze never fully met mine again, there was something about the way he’d looked at me that made me feel as if we were still connected, even in that silence.

As I stood, I moved to adjust my backpack over my shoulder, trying to regain some normalcy. My fingers fumbled slightly as I pulled it on, my thoughts still tangled. I could feel his eyes on me once more, even though he wasn’t directly looking. It was as if he was aware of my every movement.

Just as I reached the door, I heard his voice—low, commanding, sending a jolt through me.

“You did a good job, Miss Y/N,” he said, his voice a smooth draw. “Always impeccable.”

The words struck me like a spark in the quiet room, and my breath caught. I froze for a moment, feeling the weight of his praise and the underlying intensity behind it. My cheeks flushed a deep crimson, warmth flooding my face as I quickly turned my head, trying to mask the sudden rush of heat.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice softer than usual, betraying the sudden rush of emotions swirling inside me.

Without another word, I stepped out into the hall, my pulse pounding in my ears. The game had changed. And as much as I tried to tell myself it was just another day, I knew deep down that something had shifted between us.

I had to admit, the thought had been nagging at me for days. Was I just another student to him? Did he really see me only as that? Or was there something more behind the way he kept glancing at me in class, his eyes lingering a fraction longer than they should have? It was maddening to think about, and I couldn’t stop the curiosity from eating away at me.

The game was fun—no doubt about it—but I needed answers.

So I decided to test it again. This time, I was going to make sure the Professor couldn’t ignore me, and if he did, then that would prove everything I needed to know.

The idea had been swirling in my head for days now, gnawing at me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more between him  and me. He was always so composed, always so in control, but when our eyes met, there was something there. Something I couldn’t explain. 

As I settled into my seat, I tried to act casual, pulling out my notebook and pretending to be absorbed in my notes, but my heart was pounding. I could feel his presence at the front of the room, but I kept my eyes trained on the page, waiting for the inevitable.

The room began to fill up as other students entered, taking their seats. He stood at the front, greeting a few students, his voice low and steady as always. But my mind was elsewhere—on him. I couldn’t help but glance up occasionally, but I didn’t want to make it too obvious.

Class began, and he fell into his usual rhythm. His voice was calm, steady, and clear, filling the room with his authoritative presence. I let my mind wander, knowing the moment I had been waiting for would come soon enough.

I noticed his eyes sweeping over the room as he began his lecture, but they didn’t land on me right away. Instead, they passed over my usual seat, scanning the rows of students. For a moment, I wondered if he’d even noticed the change, but I stayed still, pretending to pay attention to the lecture.

Minutes passed, and still, his gaze didn’t linger on me. I almost started to second-guess myself. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. Maybe it wasn’t as obvious as I thought.

But then—

I caught a subtle shift in his movements. His eyes flicked back to the room, scanning again. They moved from one student to the next, and then—It was like a switch had been flipped. His gaze landed on me.

It wasn’t immediate. At first, I thought I imagined it, but then his eyes stayed fixed on me, no longer scanning the room in a casual manner. For a moment, I could see the slight hesitation in his expression, like he was piecing something together. His eyes narrowed slightly as if searching for the right words, trying to figure out why I wasn’t where I usually sat. I felt a thrill of excitement surge through me. He had noticed. It took him a while, but he had noticed.

I didn’t move, pretending to be absorbed in my notes, my heart racing in my chest. My breath caught, and I couldn’t help but glance up again. This time, our eyes met—his deep, piercing blue eyes locking onto mine.

I saw something in them that hadn’t been there before—a flicker of recognition, of something more than just the usual professor-pupil dynamic. It was brief, but it was enough. He quickly broke the gaze, his expression stiffening as if he were trying to regain his usual composure.

But I knew. I knew he saw me now. 

My mind raced, but I kept my expression neutral. I didn’t want to give away that I knew exactly what had just happened. The rest of the lecture passed in a blur, but I couldn’t stop thinking about that moment—the way his gaze had lingered on me, the way his eyes had found me in the back of the room.

 Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the class. The students began filing out, and I stood slowly, packing my things. I kept my movements deliberate, as though I had all the time in the world, but my pulse was racing. I glanced around the room to see if anyone else noticed, but most students were too busy gathering their things and heading toward the door.

I walked out with the others, trying to keep my face neutral, but a smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. As I made my way down the hall, the satisfaction of what had just happened settled over me.  Professor Hetfield had noticed me—really noticed me. The way his gaze had locked onto mine, the brief hesitation in his usual calm demeanor—it was all the confirmation I needed.

I smirked to myself as I walked down the hallway, knowing that the game had changed. He had watched me, and now he knew. I had made my point. 

As the students filed out, I made my way over to Professor Hammett, who was talking to a couple of people by the door. He was always easy to talk to, and today, I had the perfect excuse to strike up a conversation.

“Hey, Professor Hammett!” I said, casually walking up.

“Y/N!” he greeted, his usual easy grin spreading across his face. “What’s up? You’re looking way too cheerful for someone who just survived a lecture with Hetfield.”

I laughed, adjusting my bag. “Oh, you know, I’m just doing great in class. But I was thinking about that old horror flick I watched last night—The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I love how gritty and real it feels.”

His eyes lit up at the mention of the movie. “Ah, classic! That whole atmosphere, the suspense… It’s one of those films that gets under your skin. How about The Shining? Now that one’s pure psychological horror.”

I smiled, getting into the conversation. “For sure. It’s all about that tension, right? You don’t need to see the monster to feel the terror. It’s all in the build-up.”

He leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know what? We should have a movie marathon. Old-school stuff. What do you think?”

“I’d be down for that,” I replied, enjoying the easy banter. But as we were talking, I caught the glint of familiar cold blue eyes across the hall—Professor Hetfield. He was standing with a few students, but his gaze was locked on me. I quickly turned back to Professor Hammett, but the tension in the air was undeniable.

As I continued the conversation with him, I noticed the professor step closer, his usual reserved demeanor barely concealing the sharp focus in his eyes. He greeted Kirk briefly, then turned his attention to me.

“Afternoon,  Miss Y/N,” he said, his voice low and almost a little too casual. But there was something there—something in the way his eyes lingered on me just a little too long.

“Good afternoon, Professor Hetfield,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light, but inside, my heart was racing. I couldn’t help but feel the shift in the air between us. It was like the silent tension from the horror movies we’d just discussed—unspoken, but thick.

Kirk smiled and stepped back slightly. “I’ll leave you two to chat. Catch you later, Y/N.”

“See you, Professor” I said, my smile still in place, but I could feel the subtle power shift now that it was just Professor Hetfield and me. As Kirk walked off, he moved a little closer, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I see you’ve been talking to Kirk,” he said, his tone still polite, but there was an edge to it now. The subtle jealousy was unmistakable. I could practically feel the heat radiating off him as he gave a small nod in Kirk’s direction.

I raised an eyebrow, leaning in a little closer. “Just talking about old horror movies, the classics.” I gave him a small, teasing smile. “What’s your take on them, Professor? Or are you too serious for something like that?”

He stared at me for a moment, then gave a tight smile. “I think I’m more interested in your take on them, Miss Y/N. You seem to have a particular passion for these films. Maybe you can give me some recommendations.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “Oh, I’ve got plenty. You’re missing out on some of the best stuff. I’ll make you a list,” I said, my voice light but purposeful. The more I pushed him, the more I saw the barely-contained frustration in his eyes. Before I could say anything more, Professor Hetfield quickly glanced away, as if pulling himself back from the moment. He cleared his throat. “Good job in class today. Your answers were...  always impeccable.” His voice dropped slightly, as though he was forcing the words out.

I gave him a sly smile, my cheeks burning slightly from the attention. “Thanks, Professor. I’ll be sure to give you more to think about next time.”

As I turned to leave, I couldn’t help but feel the smirk forming on my lips. I’d pushed just the right buttons today, and I could see the jealousy simmering beneath his usually cold exterior.

As I walked out of the hallway, I could feel his eyes still on me, even though he didn’t say a word. It was like a scene from one of those horror movies we’d joked about—where the tension builds and you’re not sure when the next jump scare will come, but you know it’s coming.

I had him now. Professor Hetfield was interested, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

It had been days since I’d started playing my little games with Professor Hetfield. Each class had felt like a silent war, a dance of glances, subtle challenges, and unspoken words. I could feel his eyes on me more and more, could see the tension building every time I answered a question or made a move in his class. It was almost like a game of cat and mouse, and I was enjoying every second of it.

Today was no different. I was the last to leave the lecture hall, as usual. I liked to take my time, let everyone else rush out. There was something intoxicating about the way Professor Hetfield always seemed to watch me leave, his eyes following me as I gathered my things. And today, I was determined to make him feel something more.

I slung my bag over my shoulder slowly, savoring the quiet of the empty classroom. I had done it again—made him want more, made him chase me without him even realizing it. I thought I’d done enough to leave the class without another glance back, but today felt different.

Just as my hand touched the doorknob, I heard his voice. Low, controlled, but unmistakably commanding.

“Miss Y/N.”

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. I turned slowly to face him. He was standing by his desk, his gaze fixed on me. There was a new intensity in his eyes—a flicker of something deeper, something darker that hadn’t been there before.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked, his voice casual, but there was an edge to it now, a hint of something more.

I gave him a playful smile, leaning back slightly against the door. “Just thought I’d take my time, Professor. You know, savor the moment.”

His lips twitched at the corner, a small smirk playing on his face as he walked slowly toward me. “Savor the moment? Interesting choice of words.”

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why? Does that make you uncomfortable, Professor?” I could see the flicker of challenge in his eyes, but he didn’t back down. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming.

“No,” he said quietly, his voice lowering, “but it makes me curious.”

The air between us thickened. Every step he took felt like it brought him closer to something dangerous—something that neither of us had fully acknowledged until now. I could feel the electricity crackling in the room, like we were standing on the edge of something we couldn’t control.

I took a step back, my heart racing. “I should go,” I said softly, trying to maintain control, even as the desire building between us felt undeniable.

But as I reached for the door, he moved quickly, his hand slamming against it, stopping me from leaving.

I froze, caught off guard by the force of his movement. My breath caught in my throat as I looked up at him, his blue eyes locking with mine. He was so close now, the heat of his body radiating against mine.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

My heart pounded in my chest. The space between us was electric, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. His hand stayed on the door, his other hand slowly lifting to brush a lock of hair behind my ear. His touch sent a shiver down my spine, and I could barely breathe under the weight of his gaze.

“You like playing with me, don’t you?” His voice was almost a growl now, the words wrapped in dark intent. “You like making me chase you, testing me, seeing how far I’ll go.”

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breath, but I couldn’t deny the heat that rushed through me. This was the moment—the moment. “Maybe,” I whispered, my lips almost brushing against his as I spoke. “Maybe I do.”

His smirk deepened, and in that instant, he closed the distance between us. His lips crashed against mine, fierce and hungry, as if he couldn’t hold back anymore. The kiss was everything I had imagined—passionate, urgent, full of unspoken desire. His hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer, the heat of his body making me melt against him.

I responded in kind, my hands threading through his hair, pulling him even closer. The kiss deepened, and I could feel his desire growing, matching my own. The world outside the room ceased to exist. All that mattered was the tension between us—the need that had been building for days, now finally unleashed.

His hands moved to the small of my back, pushing me against the door as he kissed me deeper. I could feel his breath against my neck, his lips trailing down to the sensitive spot just below my ear. I gasped as his hand slid down, dangerously close to where I wanted him, but just as quickly, he pulled away, his eyes dark with lust.

“You’ve been playing with fire, Miss Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “And now… it’s my turn.” I think,” he said, his voice soft but filled with purpose, “that I should remind you who’s in charge here.”

I looked up at him, my chest rising and falling with every breath. My heart was racing, but I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips. “I’ve been waiting for this,” I whispered.

His gaze darkened, and without another word, he pulled me toward him again, this time more forcefully, as his lips descended on mine once more. The kiss was all heat and urgency, the taste of him intoxicating as his hands roamed over my body, taking control in a way that made me feel both exhilarated and completely powerless.

I responded, parting my lips slightly, inviting him in. The kiss deepened, his lips moving against mine with a tenderness that belied the intensity of the connection between us. My body seemed to melt against him, every inch of me craving the touch I had been teasing him with for so long.

His hands found their way to my waist, pulling me closer, and for a brief moment, I thought he might push me further. But he didn’t. Instead, he gently guided me toward his desk, the action so smooth, so deliberate, I couldn’t help but follow.

He stopped just before the edge of the desk, his eyes locking onto mine. “Sit,” he said, his voice soft but commanding.

I obeyed without hesitation, sitting on the edge of the desk, my heart pounding in my chest as I waited for what would come next. The anticipation was almost too much to bear.

He stepped back, taking in the sight of me sitting there, the tension thick in the air. “You’ve been teasing me,” he said again, his voice softer this time, but no less intense. “But you want more, don’t ya?”

I nodded, unable to find the words. My body felt like it was on fire, every nerve alive with need.

“You’re so needy for me, Miss Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with desire. “And I think you know exactly how far you’re willing to go.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, but before I could respond, he was back in front of me, his lips capturing mine once again. The kiss was hungry now, desperate, like we were both starved for this connection. There was no turning back. He first unbuttoned my shirt a bit, playing with them a bit, but surprisingly he ripped my shirt leaving me with only my bra. I smirked at his action, and with confidence, I started removing my bra, slowly looking at him, with a smirk. My fingers hesitated for just a second as I reached for the straps of my bra, but I knew he was watching, and somehow, that made me move slower, more deliberately.

As I pulled the fabric down my shoulders, I felt his eyes trace the curve of my skin. I could see the shift in his posture—how his breath seemed to catch, how his chest rose and fell a little faster. His eyes never left me, and I could feel the weight of his stare like a touch, lingering on my exposed skin. When the bra finally slipped down, I couldn’t help but notice how his gaze followed every inch, lingering on my breasts with such intensity that it made me feel completely exposed.

His jaw tightened, and I saw his hand flex at his side, as if he was fighting the urge to move. He didn’t look away. In fact, it was almost like he was drinking me in, like he couldn’t get enough of what he was seeing. There was hunger in his eyes—raw, powerful—and yet, there was something else too, something almost reverent, like he was seeing me in a way no one else ever had.

His breath was shallow, quick, and I noticed how his body shifted, how he leaned in just slightly, drawn to me without even realizing it. I could tell he wanted to reach out, to close the distance between us, but he stayed still, rooted in place, just watching. His eyes flicked back to mine for a moment, and the heat between us seemed to grow, thick and heavy, leaving no room for anything but this moment.

I let the bra drop fully, and still, his gaze never wavered. I felt a flush spread across my skin, not from shyness, but from the raw intensity of how he was looking at me. He was hungry for me, but it wasn’t just physical. It felt deeper, like he was searching for something in me, something more than just the surface.

At that moment, I realized I wasn’t just undressing for him. I was giving him all of me, and he was taking it in, slowly, carefully, like he was afraid if he blinked, it would all disappear.

“You really love teasing, don’t you, darling?” His voice was low, almost a growl, like he was savoring the words, letting them linger between us. His gaze never left mine, intense and predatory, but there was something playful in the way he spoke, as if he enjoyed watching me revel in the power of the moment.

 met his gaze, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. His words hung in the air, heavy with that unmistakable edge of desire. “Yes,” I said softly, my voice breathless but confident. “I love it.” I let the words linger between us, daring him to respond, daring him to make the next move.

His eyes darkened, and the moment stretched taut between us, the space narrowing. Before I could even register the shift in his posture, his hand was on me—his touch firm, almost possessive as he reached for my breast, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin. I gasped, my body instinctively tilting toward him, but he guided me with ease, his touch a mixture of control and dominance.

“You’ve had your little games,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with intent. “Now it’s my turn to have fun.” His thumb stroked the curve of my breast, sending a shiver down my spine. “You’ve teased me enough, darling. But now…” He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear, his grip tightening slightly. “Now, it’s my turn to see just how much you can handle.”

His hand didn’t stop, didn’t falter. The intensity of his gaze pinned me in place, even as my breath hitched and my knees felt weak. Without a word, he guided me back until I felt the cool edge of the desk against me. His touch was deliberate, firm but not rushed, as though he wanted to savor every reaction he could draw from me.

“Lie back,” he murmured, his voice deep and commanding, the kind of tone that sent a shiver through me and left no room for hesitation. I obeyed, lowering myself onto the desk, the smooth surface pressing against my back as he loomed over me.

His hands moved down, exploring every inch of me, his fingertips brushing over my exposed skin with an unhurried precision that made me feel like I was unraveling under his touch. When he reached the hem of my skirt, his eyes flicked up to meet mine, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said, his tone teasing but heavy with desire. He slid the fabric higher, baring my thighs inch by inch, watching as goosebumps rose on my skin. His fingers lingered just at the edge of my panties, tracing the line where the fabric met my skin, a maddeningly light touch that made my pulse race.

“You like to tease, but look at you now,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. His thumb brushed over me through the thin fabric, his movements slow, deliberate. I couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped my lips, and his smirk deepened.

“Already so wet,” he said softly, almost to himself, his fingers pressing just enough to make me squirm. “Tell me, darling, was this all part of your little game? Or is this just how much you want me?”

The way he looked at me, the way his hands moved, made my mind spin. I couldn’t find the words to respond, couldn’t do anything but feel as he kept teasing me, his touch igniting every nerve in my body. He was in complete control now, and I could only hold onto the edge of the desk, letting myself get lost in the way he looked at me like I was his to claim.

His fingers toyed with the edge of my panties, his touch maddeningly light as though he was savoring how much I squirmed under him. I managed a smirk, though my breath was already unsteady.

“You’re good at this,” I murmured, the tease in my voice thin but still there. “But what about you, Professor?” My words dripped with mock innocence, daring him. “You should’ve seen the way you were looking at me earlier.”

His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening for just a moment as if I’d struck a nerve. The smirk that spread across his lips after was slow, deliberate, dangerous.

“You have no idea,” he said, the words making me shiver. “How many times I’ve dreamed of this—of having you like this, spread out, completely mine to touch, to taste…” His hand slid lower, his fingers grazing the soft fabric that clung to me. “To fuck you senseless,” he finished, his tone rough with restraint, his breath hot against my skin.

“Don’t you have rules about this?” I asked, my voice low and teasing, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. “Making out with your student?”

He paused for a fraction of a second, his eyes locking onto mine. The intensity in his gaze made my stomach flip, and then he leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, his voice rough and full of heat.

“I’d break every rule for you, darling,” he said, his breath hot against my skin. “Every single one.”

His hands moved with purpose then, slipping beneath the waistband of my panties, hooking the fabric, and pulling it down slowly. The deliberate way he did it—like he wanted me to feel every second of it—made my pulse race.

“Lift,” he said, his tone low and commanding, and I obeyed without a second thought, letting him slide them down and away. The cool air against my bare skin made me shiver, but his warm hands were already there, settling on my thighs, pushing them apart with a quiet authority that sent heat rushing through me.

“Open up for me,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm, his eyes dark with intent. The way he looked at me, like I was something he’d waited too long to touch, made me tremble. 

He leaned in, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, his breath warm, every touch deliberate and unhurried. I gripped the edge of the desk, barely able to breathe as he moved closer, the tension in the air thick enough to drown in.

“You teased me long enough,” he murmured against my skin, his voice a low, gravelly promise. “Now, let me take care of you the way I’ve dreamed of.”

His hands tightened on my thighs, spreading them wider as he leaned in, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. The weight of his gaze alone made me feel exposed, vulnerable—but in a way that only made me crave more. His touch was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every moment, every reaction I gave him.

I tried to steady my breath, but it was impossible when every second of his tongue left me more breathless. His lips brushed over my skin, soft and teasing, but I couldn’t stop the way my body responded—how I arched toward him instinctively, needing more.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, with a hint of command. “Let me make you feel good.”

The tension in my body built with every deliberate stroke of his tongue on my clit,  every soft press of his lips. I could feel my pulse racing, the heat spreading through me, getting more intense with every move he made. The way he took his time, exploring, licking, making sure I felt every inch of his attention, was driving me crazy. I couldn’t help the quiet moans that escaped my lips, each one only fueling his need to tease me further.

I could feel the pressure building, growing tighter and tighter inside me, until it was almost unbearable. His movements were steady, perfect, and it was clear he was enjoying the way I was coming undone beneath his touch. My body trembled with anticipation, and I couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Professor… professor… I’m c-coming,” I gasped, my voice shaky as the words tumbled out before I could even stop them.

The moment I spoke, he pulled back slightly, his lips still brushing against me as he glanced up at me, his expression filled with a wicked, knowing smile.

“Call me James, babe,” he murmured, his voice rough and possessive. There was a playful edge in his tone, but underneath it was an unmistakable authority that sent another wave of heat rushing through me.

He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down���he kept moving with that same steady rhythm, drawing me closer to the edge again. The way he moved, the way he touched me, left me no choice but to surrender to the pleasure.

“James...” I gasped, the sound of his name falling from my lips like a plea, a release. It pushed me over the edge, and I couldn’t help but let go, the pleasure crashing through me in waves as I fell apart beneath his touch.

I could hardly catch my breath as the waves of pleasure slowly ebbed away, my chest heaving with each shallow inhale. Slowly, I sat up, trying to regain some sense of control, my body still trembling slightly from the release he’d given me.

But he wasn’t done. I felt his hand gently, yet firmly, guide me back, pushing me to lay across the desk.

“Did you think I was done, Y/n?” His voice was low, confident, full of quiet authority as he loomed above me, his eyes dark with intent. “I told you... now it’s my turn to play.”

His hands moved with purpose, his fingers undoing his shirt. I watched as he pulled it off, revealing his toned chest, each muscle defined and impossibly perfect in the soft light. The sight of him, so composed yet hungry for me, stirred something deep inside.

He unzipped his trousers, the sound of the zipper sharp in the otherwise quiet room. As he stepped closer, his gaze never left mine, steady and filled with something that made my heart race even faster.

“I know you want it, babe,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with unspoken promise. “You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of this... to make you scream my name while I fuck your little pussy. I can feel it... the way you’ve been craving me, just like I’ve been craving you.”

I could feel the tension building again between us, the heat in the room growing almost unbearable. His hands moved firmly to my shoulders, guiding me back until I was lying flat across the desk, my heart racing with both anticipation and uncertainty. The shift in position made everything feel more intimate, more real, and I could feel my body instinctively surrendering to him.

His touch was possessive now, his hands gentle but unyielding, pressing me firmly against the desk. My breath hitched as he loomed over me, his presence a weight I couldn’t escape. Every movement he made was deliberate, as though he was savoring each second, each shift of power.

“You’re not going anywhere, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with an unmistakable edge of command. His tone was both soothing and thrilling, the way he said my name sending a rush of heat through my body. The way he used it—like he was taking control—made my pulse quicken.

It felt as though every inch of my body was attuned to him, and I couldn’t help but let go of the resistance, letting myself sink into the moment, into the connection we shared.

His hands slid gently under my ass, lifting me as he positioned himself between my legs, his presence commanding. I could feel the weight of his touch as he leaned down, his lips brushing lightly over the inside of my thighs. The kiss was slow, deliberate, each movement sending a pulse of warmth through my body.

“You’re mine now, Y/N,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin, sending shivers through me. “I’m going to make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”

He leaned in, starting moving slowly but sending shivers down my spine. Each thrust  was deliberate, slow—almost too slow for the need I felt building within me. My body wanted more, needed more, but he was taking his time, letting every moment stretch out, making me ache with wanting.

I could feel him shift slightly, his hands gently gripping my hips, pulling me closer, but still, he didn’t move any faster. The anticipation was maddening, and I couldn’t hold back the soft whimper that escaped my lips.

“Please,” I breathed, barely able to control myself. “Faster, please.”

His eyes locked onto mine as he paused, the intensity in his gaze making my heart race. There was a moment where I could feel his control slipping, but he only smiled slightly, the hint of a challenge in his eyes.

“You’re such a desperate girl, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, almost like a growl. There was a teasing edge to his words, but they only added to the heat building inside me. His tone, though commanding, held something more—a knowing that made me shiver in response.

The pace had quickened, and every movement he made sent waves of heat through me. His hands were gripping my hips, holding me in place as he thrust harder, faster. My breath was coming in ragged gasps, my chest rising and falling with each moment. I could feel every inch of him, the way his body moved with control and purpose, making every nerve in my body come alive.

I could feel his gaze on me, intense and dark with desire, as he continued to move with a rhythm that was both steady and relentless. “You wanted this, didn’t you?” he whispered, his hands sliding up to my ribs, his fingers curling slightly as he held me tighter, his thumb brushing over my skin.

“Yes,” I gasped, the word slipping out before I could stop it. I was already lost in the sensation, my mind spinning with the intensity of everything—his touch, his voice, the way he made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

Without missing a beat, he increased the pace again, and I couldn’t help but gasp, the sensation overwhelming. His movements were smooth, confident, his body pressing me down into the desk as I gripped the edges, my fingers digging into the cool surface. Every thrust sent shockwaves through me, the intensity building until I could feel my body starting to tremble with the pressure.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear, the sound of his voice sending a shiver through me. His words were a promise, something deeper, something real. “You feel so good, Y/N.”

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t form a coherent thought. I was lost in the feeling of him, the way his body moved with mine, the way everything seemed to align as if we were both caught in the same moment, the same rhythm. The connection was undeniable, each touch, each thrust, drawing me closer to the edge.

My breaths were shallow now, the pressure building more and more. I could feel myself starting to tremble, my legs tightening around him, desperate for release. “James,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper, but he heard it, responding without hesitation.

“What did you say, darling? I didn’t hear you” He said, looking at me with a smirk on his face. “Jame-” I tried to say but only a moan came. “I don't hear you babe” and he thrusted harder now and I felt dizzy for a second. “I told you I want you to scream my name, but I don’t listen nothing” “James, fuck me harder!” I cried, I don’t even know how my voice came. He looked at me with a smirk.

His hands moved down to my thighs, gripping them firmly, and he shifted, adjusting his position just enough to make the sensation even more intense. My body arched, a soft gasp escaping me as the new angle took over, the pressure building in all the right ways.

It was almost too much, but I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t pull away. I wanted this, needed this, and as the rhythm of his movements quickened again, I could feel my own body responding, chasing that overwhelming release.

" James... I'm close," I breathed, my voice shaky, barely a whisper. Every part of me was on fire, the heat inside me almost unbearable, but I couldn't stop it. I was caught between control and the overwhelming need to give in to what he was offering.

"Cum for me, Y/N, come all over my cock such a good girl you are" he whispered, his voice low and filled with a quiet intensity. The sound of his words sent a shiver down my spine, like a signal that it was okay to give in, to let the pressure that had been building inside me finally break free.

 I finally let go. The sensation hit me all at once, a wave of heat and release that took over, making my entire body tremble. I couldn’t stop the soft, breathless moans that slipped from me, each one an echo of the intensity coursing through me.

"I need just a bit more," he whispered, his voice strained. His hands gripped my hips tighter as he pulled me closer, urging me to meet his rhythm.

The pace quickened, the sounds of his breathing growing louder. His movements became more erratic, his grip on me tightening, his face a mix of focus and something deeper.

"Y/N..." he muttered, his breath catching. His body shuddered against mine, the tension finally snapping as he released a soft exhale, the rapid rise and fall of his chest matching the frantic rhythm of the moment.

For a few moments, we both stayed still, breathing heavily, connected in the quiet aftermath.

He gently guided me to sit, but I remained on the edge of the desk, my legs draped around his waist, as he stood just in front of me. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close, his chest pressing against mine as we both caught our breath. I could feel the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek. We both smiled, a moment of quiet intimacy between us.

"Wow," I murmured, my voice still breathless. "That was intense."

He chuckled softly, his grip tightening slightly as if reassuring me. "I’m glad you liked it," he whispered, his voice thick with something I couldn’t quite place. A playful glint danced in his eyes, but there was also something deeper, an intensity that lingered.

I looked up at him, my fingers tracing lightly over his shirt, my lips teasing the words I could feel bubbling up inside. "What if I wanted to play again?" I said, my voice soft but daring, the words laced with challenge.

He smirked, holding me a little tighter as if pulling me further into him. "If you play with me again, there will be consequences," he said, his tone playful yet firm.

I met his gaze, leaning in just slightly, my lips brushing near his ear. "Then I’ll gladly play again," I whispered, my voice a breath against his skin.

He chuckled softly, but then his expression shifted. He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, a serious edge creeping into his voice. "I forgot to mention something," he said. His hand moved to the back of my neck, his touch gentle but firm. "If I hear you talking the way you did earlier, with Professor Hammett, I’ll make you pay for it."

My heart skipped a beat at his words. I looked up at him, my lips curling into a teasing smile. "Are you jealous, Professor?" I asked, my voice light, but there was a part of me that wanted to know just how he’d react.

His grip on me tightened, just enough to send a shiver through me, but his smile didn’t waver. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice rough but with a hint of warmth. "And maybe, just maybe, I’ll make you regret making me feel that way."

A playful laugh escaped me, but there was a softness in my chest, a warmth I couldn’t quite explain. Without another word, he leaned down, pressing his lips gently to mine and I wrapped my arms around his neck. It was slow at first, a tender kiss that deepened as we both surrendered to the quiet pull between us. When we finally broke away, his forehead rested against mine, our breaths coming in unison.

"I’ve wanted to do that for so long," he whispered, his voice thick with something more than just desire.

I smiled softly, running my fingers along the edge of his shirt, a quiet thrill coursing through me. "I think we both have a lot more to explore, don’t we?"

He chuckled, pulling me closer once more, his arms holding me as if to keep me from ever slipping away. "Definitely."

[nausicaamusiclover20]

So, apparently my crush on James reached the stage when just reading stories isn’t enough, I have to start requesting them)))

Black album James x ballerina reader (pretty please smut), where he’s just obsessed with their size difference and the fact that she’s very flexible? Like she pretty much drowns in his shirts, her hands are fragile compared to his, etc? one day, he comes to hotel after sound check and sees her doing her stretches in his shirt and her pointe shoes and that’s too much for him? He just has to make love to her? Maybe he is making references to Beaty and the beast ballet? Like James, the beast (metal band, rough guy, always grumpy) finally captured his beauty and will not let her go?

Thank you))

I hope you like it!❤

Warnings: Explicit Content,Adult Themes, Sexual Content light Possessiveness, Physical Intimacy

___________

In the Arms of the Beast

I didn’t hear the door open—I was too lost in my stretches, the slow pull of muscles and the grounding rhythm of my breath keeping me focused. The air in the hotel room was still, save for the faint rustle of fabric as I moved. James’s shirt, massive on me, slipped over one shoulder as I bent forward, palms flat against the floor.

The shirt smelled like him—leather, a touch of smoke, and something warm I could never quite name. It made me feel wrapped in him, even when he wasn’t here.

I was midway through a stretch, my legs extended in a perfect split, when a familiar growl broke the silence.

“You trying to kill me, darlin’?”

I jerked upright, my heart skipping a beat. Turning my head, I found him standing there, his broad frame nearly filling the doorway. His boots were still on, his hair slightly mussed from the day’s soundcheck, and his eyes… Oh, God, his eyes. They were locked on me like a predator that had found its prey.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” I said, my voice softer than I meant it to be.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He didn’t move, just stood there, drinking me in. His gaze traveled slowly, lingering on my legs, then the shirt that barely reached the tops of my thighs. His expression darkened, his lips curling into a crooked grin that sent a shiver down my spine. “Hell of a sight to walk into.”

Heat flooded my face, and I tried to play it off, standing and brushing down the oversized shirt. “I was just stretching.”

“Stretching,” he repeated, his voice low and rough, like gravel under heavy boots. He finally moved, stepping closer, and my pulse quickened. “You look like you’re dancing for me.”

I laughed nervously, though his intensity made it hard to breathe. “It’s not like that.”

But he was already closing the distance, his big hands finding my waist. His palms were rough against my skin, but his touch was gentle, reverent even. “You’re drowning in this shirt,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing over the fabric. “Look at you. So damn tiny.”

My hands instinctively rested on his forearms, the contrast between us impossible to ignore. His arms were solid, his muscles thick and corded under my fingers. Next to his, my hands looked fragile, almost doll-like. He noticed it too, his gaze dropping to where I touched him, a quiet groan escaping his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice soft but loaded with something raw. “Like somethin’ out of a story. Beauty and the Beast.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could, his hand slid up, tilting my chin so I was looking right into those piercing eyes. The next thing I knew, his lips were on mine, warm and commanding. The kiss stole my breath, every bit of him consuming me in the best way.

His hands moved, gripping my hips as he pulled me against him. “Mine,” he growled against my lips. The word sent a thrill down my spine. “You’re mine, and I’m not letting you go.”

My heart pounded as I clung to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed like I weighed nothing at all. His shirt rode up as he laid me down, exposing my bare legs and the ribbons of my pointe shoes.

He paused, hovering over me, his eyes dark with hunger. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“James…” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and desire.

His hands were everywhere—exploring, testing. He bent my leg, his touch slow and deliberate, as though marveling at my flexibility. His grin turned wicked as I arched beneath him, a soft gasp slipping from my lips.

“Shh, darlin’,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to my neck. His teeth grazed my skin, sending a jolt of heat through me, and then his tongue followed, soothing the spot. “Let me take care of you.”

James’s hands slid under the oversized shirt I wore, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of my stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His eyes darkened as he glanced up at me, a low growl escaping his throat.

“Fuck, baby, you look so good in this shirt. But it’s in the way,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “I need to see you.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I lifted my arms as he tugged the shirt up and over my head, throwing it to the side without a second thought. I was left exposed before him, my skin flushed and my breath shallow as he took in the sight of me, his gaze almost possessive.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, his voice rough as his hands traced down my arms, over my shoulders, and to the curve of my waist. His touch was like fire, leaving me aching for more.

His lips trailed along my neck, his breath hot against my skin, before moving lower, over my collarbone. As his hands gently cupped my breasts, I gasped at the feeling of his thumbs brushing over my nipples, hardening at his touch.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his mouth descending further, kissing along the top of my chest before moving to one nipple. He flicked his tongue over the hardened peak, sending a shiver through me.

I arched into him, my hands tangling in his hair as he lavished attention on me, his beard brushing against my skin in a way that made my entire body hum with pleasure. The sensation was both tender and intense, and I couldn't help but moan softly, feeling my body come alive under his touch.

But it was the way his hands moved, the way his fingers lightly traced the curve of my hips, that drove me wild. The gentleness with which he treated me, as though I were something precious, only added to the fire building inside.

"Please," I whispered, my voice trembling. It was a plea, though I didn’t know for what exactly, only that I needed him to make me feel.

With a soft chuckle, he pulled away for a moment, eyes dark with desire. "You’re so eager, darlin’. I’m not going anywhere. Just need to take my time with you."

His words, those quiet promises of patience, set my heart racing. Slowly, he lowered his body, kissing his way down my chest, over my stomach, and further still, until he hovered between my legs.

His eyes locked with mine, filled with a heat that made my breath catch. "Let me taste you, baby," he whispered, his voice hushed, reverent.

The words, the way he said them, stirred something deep within me. I parted my legs slightly, giving him the space he needed, feeling my pulse quicken with every inch closer he came.

 Suddenly, he lifted me effortlessly, pressing me against the cool wall, enveloping me with his warmth. I  felt my heart beating faster, his strong frame looming over me in a possessive yet gentle way. The heat of his body radiated against mine, sending shivers of anticipation down my spine.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a thrill through me. "I couldn’t resist. You’re just too tempting right now."

“Maybe I wanted you to,” I whispered back, feeling bold, excitement dancing in my chest.

Before I could respond further, he leaned in, capturing my mouth with his. His kiss was electrifying—hunger mixed with tenderness—as he poured his desires into the moment. I melted into him, my hands instinctively sliding into his hair, gripping the soft strands as he began to explore.

He broke the kiss to trail his lips along my jawline and down to my neck, where he lingered, his breath hot against my skin. I gasped, tilting my head back, giving him better access. “God, you taste so good,” he breathed against my collarbone.

“Then don’t stop,” I urged, shivering at his words.

As if sensing my need, he slowly sank to his knees in front of me, his eyes smoldering with intensity. I felt vulnerable yet safe under his gaze, my body aching for him.

“Please, James,” I begged softly, my voice barely above a whisper, my fingers curling tighter in his hair, a mixture of desperation and exhilaration coursing through me.

With a smirk, he leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against my core. “Just relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he said, his tone both commanding and soothing. And then he buried his face between my thighs.

The sensation was overwhelming—his tongue skillfully teasing me as he explored every inch of my softness. I gasped, the pleasure sending jolts of electricity coursing through me. I couldn’t help but rock my hips closer, urging him on, craving every pleasurable flick.

“James,” I moaned, the sound of his name spilling from my lips like a sweet invitation. His smirk against me made my heart race even faster.

“Feel good, baby?” he murmured, pausing briefly. The wicked look in his eyes only fueled my desire.

“More than you can imagine,” I breathed, arching my back, desperate for more. “Don’t stop, please…”

As he continued, I felt myself teetering on the edge, every flick of his tongue driving me closer. “You’re so good at this,” I panted, lost in the moment. “You know how much I crave this.”

“Only the best for you,” he replied between teasing kisses, his voice low and sultry. He paused and gave me a look filled with heat. “You deserve to be spoiled, babe.”

With my hands gripping his hair tighter, I pulled him closer. “Then spoil me.”

He was relentless, his mouth devouring me in a way that sent shockwaves through my body. “You’re delicious,” he said, a hint of possessiveness lacing his words. “I could stay here all night.”

“God, James,” I gasped, feeling another wave of pleasure building inside me. “I’m—”

He cut me off with a hard, swift move, pushing me over the edge, and I cried out in ecstasy. Colors exploded behind my eyelids as waves of bliss washed over me.

When I finally came down from my high, he stood, brushing his lips against mine with a possessive smirk. “You okay?” he asked, concern mingling with the raw desire in his eyes.

“Better than okay,” I whispered, feeling electric currents still dancing through my body. “Now I want you.”

His brow arched playfully, desires swirling like a tempest in his eyes. “You think you can handle me?” he teased, leaning closer.

I smirked back, feeling daring. “I’ve handled you before, haven’t I?”

“Touché,” he said with a chuckle, but his expression turned serious. “You ready for this?”

“Always,” I assured him, feeling a thrill of anticipation.

With a single motion, he lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around him as he pressed me against the wall. I could feel him, hard and ready, throbbing against my core, and the intensity made my breath quicken. “You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you?” he said, his voice thick with need.

“Only for you,” I breathed. “Always for you.”

He grinned wickedly, his breath ghosting across my ear. “Then let’s see how much you can take.” With that, he sank into me in one smooth motion, and I gasped as he filled me completely.

“God, yes,” I breathed, losing myself in the sensation. “You feel incredible.”

“Damn right I do,” he growled, driving deeper. “And you’re mine.”

The rhythm of our bodies colliding filled the air, the sound a symphony of passion and urgency. “Look at me, Y/N,” he demanded, his eyes locked onto mine. I nodded, surrendering completely to him, my heart racing as I matched his intensity.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he urged, his breath ragged.

“James, it feels—oh god, it feels amazing,” I moaned, my body arching against his. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“That's right, baby. I want to hear you say it. I want you to remember how good I make you feel,” he said, his voice low and dark, sending shivers up my spine.

“James, you make me feel so good,” I whimpered, desperate for him. “Don’t stop. Just like that.”

With each thrust, he buried himself deeper, igniting flames of pleasure that threatened to consume me. The heat between us crackled, the world beyond us fading to nothing as we lost ourselves in each other.

“C’mon, babe. Let it go for me,” he urged, his voice a gravelly whisper as he picked up the pace, the need pushing both of us toward the brink.

“James, I’m so close,” I gasped, urgency flooding my voice.

“Then let go for me,” he commanded, thrusting harder, each movement focused solely on driving me to that sweet release. I could feel myself slipping, my breath hitching.

With one final deep thrust, I came undone, a wave of pleasure crashing over me, drawing out a desperate cry that echoed in the room. I felt him surge with me, his grip tightening as he lost himself inside me, his own moans harmonizing with mine.

In the aftermath, as our breaths mingled, he cradled my face in his hands, his touch gentle amidst the overwhelming intensity. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his eyes softening as they bore into mine.

I smiled, relishing the aftermath of our passion. “So are you,” I replied, my fingers trailing along his jaw. “You always know how to make me feel amazing.”

He chuckled softly, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “And I’ll keep making you feel that way, because you deserve it.”

With a warmth filling my chest, I leaned in and pressed my lips against his once more, feeling grateful for this moment and the man who held me so tenderly yet fiercely. In James’ arms, I knew I had found something extraordinary.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Happy Valentine’s Day to those who are in a relationship and to those still searching for love. But in both cases, I love you all, my dearest ones. And hey, if love doesn’t find you today… there’s always chocolate❤

Warnings: smut, nsfw, sex themes, mature themes, jealousy, a bit of possessive behaviour, fluff in the end

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

☙Valentine's day☙

The roar of the crowd still echoed in my ears as James Hetfield and I stepped into the dimly lit bar. The scent of whiskey, smoke, and sweat clung to the air like a lingering ghost of the night’s concert. It was February 14th, but to me, it was just another evening of heavy drinks and heavier emotions.

James had always been more than a friend to me—an unspoken tension lingered between us like a song left unfinished. A touch that lingered too long, a glance that seared too deep. But neither of us had dared to cross that line. Not yet. But tonight… Tonight, there was something different in the air.

We sat at the bar, glasses filled with burning amber liquid, our laughter echoing through the hazy atmosphere. My heart clenched as I looked at him, his rugged face illuminated by the dim light, the faintest hint of sweat still on his brow from the stage.

Then, just when I thought this night couldn’t get any crueler, she appeared. A blonde groupie, dripping in confidence and arrogance, sauntered over like she owned the damn place and plopped herself right onto James’ lap.

“Jamie,” she purred, her fingers playing with a strand of her golden hair. “It’s Valentine’s Day. When are you gonna declare your love for me?”

I clenched my jaw, swirling the drink in my glass, feigning indifference. But my sarcasm slipped out before I could stop it. “Well, he never does,” I muttered dryly, taking a sip. “He only thinks about something else.”

James turned to look at me, his smirk flickering, his eyes unreadable. There was something there—something deeper, darker—but he said nothing.

Lars, ever the shit-stirrer, leaned toward me with a knowing smirk. “What’s with you? Jealous or something?”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Jealous? Please. Actually, I was thinking about heading out. Someone’s waiting for me.”

James’ fingers tightened around his glass, but he said nothing.

Lars let out a low chuckle. “Oh yeah? Who is he?” He leaned forward, intrigued. “Describe him. What’s he like?”

I smirked, playing into it, knowing exactly what I was doing. “Tall. Dark hair. Strong hands.” I let my fingers trail along the rim of my glass. “Knows exactly how to touch me.”

James exhaled sharply, his jaw ticking.

Lars grinned. “And in bed?”

I leaned back, savoring every second of the tension. “Man, he’s divine. No one fucks like him.”

The air grew heavy. James’ grip on his drink tightened, his knuckles going white. His jaw flexed as he slowly turned to face me, his stare burning into my skin.

I stood abruptly, grabbing my coat and walking out. The cold night air slapped me, a cruel contrast to the heat bubbling inside me. I barely made it a few steps before I heard rapid footsteps behind me.

“Y/N!”

I turned, my breath hitching as James stormed toward me, his face unreadable but his eyes dark and intense.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, feigning surprise, though my pulse was hammering.

He stopped just inches away, his breath warm against the night’s chill. “Is it true?” His voice was low, rough. “You got someone waiting for you?”

I tilted my head, smirking. “Maybe.”

His eyes flashed with something dangerous. “Ah, yeah? I wanna meet him.” His voice dropped lower, sending a shiver down my spine. “He knows how to fuck well?”

I let out a sharp, sarcastic laugh. “Oh, absolutely. The guy’s practically a saint in the sheets. You should take notes.”

James’ expression darkened, his body going rigid. Before I could react, he grabbed me—strong arms lifting me off the ground as he threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

“James, what the fuck?!” I shrieked, kicking against his hold as he strode toward his car.

“You’ll see,” he growled.

The drive to his place was silent but thick with tension. The moment we stepped inside, he was on me—his lips crashing against mine, hands gripping my waist with a possessive urgency that sent heat pooling between my legs.

“You wanna test me?” he growled against my lips, his teeth grazing my bottom lip before he sucked it into his mouth. “I’ll fucking show you.”

His hands gripped my hips as he backed me against the nearest wall. The world blurred as we stumbled through the house, knocking over furniture, bodies colliding in a desperate battle for dominance. My clothes were gone before I could blink, my skin burning under his rough touch.

“Tell me again,” he muttered darkly, his lips trailing down my throat, his teeth grazing my skin. “Tell me how fucking ‘divine’ he is.”

I gasped, my nails raking down his back. “Fuck you.”

His hand wrapped around my throat, tilting my head back. “Oh, sweetheart,” he growled, pressing his forehead to mine. “That’s exactly what you’re getting.”

 James’ hands roamed over my skin, fingers dancing along the fabric of my dress, teasing but not revealing, as if he were savoring every tantalizing moment. “Such a pretty dress, but it’s not gonna last long,” he murmured against my ear, his breath hot and heavy, sending shivers down my spine.

With one swift motion, he gripped the hem and yanked it over my head, tossing it aside as if it were nothing, leaving me standing there in nothing but my lace panties. “Damn, you’re beautiful,” he growled, his eyes dark with desire, drinking in the sight of me. But I saw that flicker of jealousy, the way his jaw clenched at the thought of me with someone else.

“That asshole doesn’t know a damn thing about you,” he spat, the intensity in his gaze igniting my own desire.

Before I could respond, his hands were on me again, gripping my hips tightly as he guided me to the couch. “Get comfortable,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. I sank down onto the plush cushions, my heart racing as he knelt before me.

James lowered himself, his mouth inches from my core. “Let’s see how well he knows you,” he teased huskily, trailing his fingers along my thighs, drawing closer to that burning heat between my legs. I gasped, arching my back in anticipation.

“James,” I whimpered, urgency flooding my voice.

“Hush, sweetheart,” he replied with a wicked smirk. “I want to hear you, not speak.” He lowered his mouth, lips brushing against my panties, teasing the fabric as my body responded instinctively. “Tell me, is he better than me?” he taunted, his eyes glinting with possessiveness.

I hesitated, wanting to tease him just a bit longer. “Maybe… if that’s what you want to believe,” I replied, a playful lilt in my voice.

His breath hitched, a low growl escaping him as he pressed his mouth harder against me. “You’re playing with fire, beautiful,” he warned, his fingers gripping my thighs like a vice.

When he finally pulled those lace panties aside, my breath hitched in my throat. His tongue flicked out, teasingly slow at first, before plunging deep, igniting a fire within me. I moaned loudly, arching my hips as I dug my fingers into the couch, gripping the fabric to keep myself grounded.

“James, please… don’t stop,” I begged, my voice thick with need.

He groaned against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my body. “You taste fucking addictive,” he murmured, mouth moving hungrily. “But I want to hear you say it. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

I bit my lip, feeling the tension building. “You feel amazing,” I breathed, my voice shaky. “So much better than I ever imagined.”

“Better than him, right?” he pressed, a wicked grin stretching across his face.

“Maybe…” I teased, confidence surging through me.

His eyes darkened further, primal need taking over. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re about to find out what ‘better’ really means,” he growled, his fingers working my clit in perfect rhythm. “I bet he never got you this worked up.”

I was nearing the edge, the pleasure overwhelming. “James… I need—”

“Need what?” he teased, leaning closer to me, his breath warm against my core.

“Just… don’t stop.”

“Good girl,” he praised, his tone sultry as he drove me to the brink. When I finally fell apart, my body quaking with pleasure, I cried out, “James!” waves of ecstasy washing over me.

His satisfaction was palpable as he climbed over me, body pressing against mine. “That’s just the start,” he whispered, his fingers tangling in my hair, tilting my head back to claim my mouth.

The kiss was hungry, desperate—filled with all the pent-up emotions we had danced around for so long. As he stripped off the remains of his clothes, I swallowed hard, taking in the sight of him.

“Now, let’s see what else you’ve been missing,” he said, pinning me against the couch again, breathless laughter accompanying his possessiveness.

“Are you ready for me?” he growled, eyes darkening with need.

“James, I—”

“Just say yes, and I’ll take care of the rest,” he interrupted, his voice low and commanding.

“Yes,” I breathed, feeling the heat pool between my legs again.

With a swift movement, he entered me, filling me completely. I gasped, clenching around him as he began to thrust, each movement pushing me closer to the edge once again. “You feel so damn good,” he groaned, eyes locked on mine as he continued to move, each thrust deliberate and deep.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he hissed, punctuating each word with a forceful thrust, possessive and hungry. “Better than what you had before.”

“I—oh god, yes, James!” I cried out, my moans mixing with the sounds of his thrusts. I couldn’t manage anything more than gasps—the pleasure overwhelming, my world reduced to the sensations of him moving inside me.

As James thrust deeper inside me, his breath came in ragged gasps. “Does my cock feel better than his?” he growled, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips.

I didn’t answer, lost in the overwhelming pleasure as he drove deeper, his hips slamming against me, pushing my body to the edge.

“Can you take it all?” he demanded, thrusting harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

Still, I only gasped, my body writhing in response to the sheer ecstasy of his movements.

“Do I fuck you better than he ever did?” he pressed, increasing the speed and intensity of his thrusts, each one sending shockwaves through me.

I met his intense gaze, heart racing, but I couldn’t find my voice, even as the pleasure surged within me.

“Tell me! Are you forgetting him?” he growled, thrusting even harder, causing my body to respond instinctively to the force of his movements.

Finally, I felt the pressure building to an unbearable peak, and I gasped out, “James!”

He paused, a flicker of triumph in his eyes, and then he pushed into me with an unforgiving thrust. “That’s right, scream my name. You’re mine tonight” he demanded, a wicked grin on his lips as he leaned close.

“James!” I cried out, feeling the tension coiling tighter within me.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice low and sultry. “That’s it. Let go for me. Let me hear just how good I fuck you.”

With a few more powerful thrusts, that coil unraveled, sending me spiraling into ecstasy once again. I could feel him right there with me, his own pleasure peaking as I clenched around him, pulling him deeper.

“Y/N!” he roared, his hips slamming against me one last time before he stilled, a growl escaping his lips.

The aftermath of our reckless, feverish passion wrapped around me like a heavy blanket. My heartbeat gradually slowed to match the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. His head rested on me, his hair damp against my skin, and his arm lay draped possessively across my waist. His fingers, rough and calloused, traced lazy circles against my ribs, grounding me in the reality of what just happened.

I ran my fingers through his hair, savoring the quiet intimacy. It felt surreal—James, my unresolved tension for so long,  and now he’s lying here with me like we’d broken through some invisible barrier we’d pretended didn’t exist. I didn’t want to think about what came next. I just wanted to stay like this forever.

But, of course, James had to break the silence.

“So…” he muttered, voice rough and low. “You never answered me.”

I tilted my head to look down at him. His chin rested on my chest now, eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Answered what?” I asked, feigning innocence.

He raised an eyebrow. “The guy.”

My lips twitched. Oh, I was going to have fun with this. I gave a nonchalant shrug, letting my fingers slip through his hair. “Ah, yeah. Him.” I bit my lip and let my eyes go unfocused like I was lost in thought. “Mmm… yeah, he’s pretty unforgettable.”

James froze. His fingers stopped their lazy tracing, his entire body going rigid against mine. His jaw flexed, his eyes darkening as he pushed himself up onto one elbow. The weight of his stare pinned me beneath him.

“Is that true?” he asked softly. His thumb brushed along my cheek, the touch gentle even though the intensity of his gaze made my stomach flip. “You really got someone waiting for you?”

The jealousy in his eyes was almost palpable, but I wasn’t ready to give in yet. I raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a wicked grin. “Maybe.”

His nostrils flared slightly. His thumb drifted down, tracing the curve of my jaw. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He looked away for a moment, jaw tight, before his eyes met mine again. The vulnerability in that look hit me like a punch to the gut.

“That shit killed me, you know,” he admitted. His voice was rougher now, the teasing bravado completely gone. “Hearing you talk like that. Thinking there might be some other guy… someone who gets to touch you like this. Someone who…” He hesitated, his thumb ghosting over my lips. “Who gets to have you.”

My heart squeezed. I opened my mouth to respond, but the words caught in my throat.

James let out a humorless laugh, his eyes dropping to my lips. “I’ve had women throwing themselves at me for years. Groupies who don’t know a damn thing about me beyond the stage.” His lips twisted into a grim smile. “And yeah, I could’ve had any of ‘em. But I didn’t.”

I swallowed hard. “Why not?”

He inhaled slowly, his eyes meeting mine again. “Because the one I ever wanted is you”

The air left my lungs in a rush. My pulse raced, my skin prickling as his words settled in. Holy shit.

Before I could respond, James pushed himself off the bed. I sat up, holding the sheet to my chest as I watched him stride naked across the room. He disappeared into the hallway, leaving me there, heart racing and mind spinning.

What the hell was he doing?

I was still catching my breath when he returned a minute later, his large hand clutching something. As he stepped into the warm glow of the bedside lamp, I saw it clearly: a single red rose with a black string tied around its stem. Attached to the string was a small folded note.

My lips parted in surprise as he held it out to me. His fingers flexed slightly when I took it.

“I was gonna give this to you earlier,” he said, voice low and rough. “Before the whole ‘I got a guy waiting for me’ thing.” His mouth quivered in a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Guess I chickened out.”

I unfolded the note with trembling fingers, my heart threatening to crack my ribcage.

Will you be my Valentine?

I stared at the words, my vision blurring with the tears that sprang up uninvited. My lips parted, but I couldn’t speak. The simplicity of it, the rawness… it shattered me in the best way.

James shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said quickly. “I just… I needed you to know. I’ve felt this way for a long time.”

I let the rose fall to the bed and surged forward, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him down to me. My lips crashed into his, pouring everything I couldn’t say into that kiss. His arms came around me instantly, crushing me against his chest as he kissed me back with the same desperate hunger.

When we finally broke apart, I cupped his face, smiling through the tears. “Yes,” I whispered. “I’ll be your Valentine.”

James exhaled shakily, his forehead resting against mine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I smiled. “Always.”

He groaned softly, pulling me into his lap. His lips brushed against mine, softer this time. Slower. Like he was savoring the taste of the answer he’d wanted all along.

But I couldn’t resist one last poke. I ran my fingers through his hair and tilted my head. “Although, I gotta say… the other guy might be jealous.”

James froze mid-kiss and leaned back, eyes narrowing. “The fuck?”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

His jaw clenched, and that dark possessiveness returned, his hands gripping my waist. “Y/N…”

I couldn’t hold back the laughter anymore. I let my head fall back as it spilled out, echoing through the room. When I looked at him again, his mouth was a tight line, but his eyes were soft.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous, Hetfield,” I teased, running my fingers along his stubbled jaw.

“Yeah? Keep laughing, sweetheart,” he growled, a smirk finally breaking through. “But you’re mine now. And if that imaginary asshole ever shows up…”

“Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do?”

His lips brushed my ear, voice a low, delicious growl. “I’ll remind him exactly who you belong to”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[nausicaamusiclover20]

hey can you write a fic about reader! x current james?? her parents are away from the country for Christmas and they are very close friends with james? they asked him if he could look after her and come to check if she is studying, eating etc.

the relationship between james and the reader are kinda tense? idk how to explain it but they have a crush for each other. so one day when he came to see how’s she doing the reader is very touchy with him and it ends with smut???

I would love to read something like that

Ps. I love your writings ❤️🫶❤️

Thank you so much! I hope you like it!🔥❤

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, mature themes, explicit language, power dynamics

__________________________

Burning winter

The house felt far too big for just me, especially at night. My parents were off gallivanting across Europe for Christmas, leaving me behind with strict instructions to “stay focused” on my studies.

And, of course, they’d enlisted James to check on me.

The doorbell rang, sending a jolt of anticipation through me. I tried not to look too eager as I opened the door.

There he stood, a faint dusting of snow melting on his dark hair, his broad shoulders wrapped in his coat. James didn’t have to try to look good; he just did. His eyes met mine, and a slow smile curled his lips.

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside. His voice, low and smooth, had the same effect it always did—making my pulse quicken.

“Hey.” I closed the door behind him, the chill of the outside air replaced by his warmth.

“Studying hard?” he asked, glancing toward the books I’d spread across the coffee table to give the illusion of productivity.

“Obviously,” I said, feigning innocence.

“Hmm,” he murmured, shrugging out of his coat. His fitted sweater hugged his torso, and I found myself staring at the way it stretched over his chest. I tore my eyes away before he could catch me.

“You can sit,” I said, motioning to the couch.

He hesitated, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before he sat down, leaving a polite amount of space between us.

“You don’t have to sit so far away,” I teased, shifting closer.

His lips twitched into a smirk. “Just trying to be professional.”

“Oh, come on. It’s just me,” I said, letting my hand brush lightly against his forearm. The contact was fleeting, but it sent a spark through me.

His eyes flicked down to where my fingers rested, his jaw tightening. “Y/N.” His voice held a warning.

“What?” I asked, tilting my head innocently. My fingers drifted higher, over the fabric of his sweater. “You’re always so tense. Someone needs to help you relax.”

His breath hitched, and I caught the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Maybe I want to play,” I murmured, leaning closer. My lips were just a breath away from his, and I felt the warmth of his exhale against my skin.

“Y/N,” he said again, but this time my name came out as a growl, low and rough.

I kissed him before he could stop me.

The moment our lips met, the tension between us snapped like a live wire. His hesitation vanished as his hands gripped my waist, pulling me onto his lap.

The kiss was hungry, his lips moving against mine with a heat that left me dizzy. I tangled my fingers in his hair, tugging gently, and he groaned, the sound reverberating through me.

“You’re going to drive me crazy,” he muttered against my lips, his voice thick with need.

“Good,” I whispered, rolling my hips against him.

His reaction was immediate. His hands tightened on my waist, and his head fell back slightly, exposing the strong line of his neck. I leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his skin, savoring the way his breath caught with every touch.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice strained as his hands slid beneath my sweater. His fingers brushed over my bare skin, and I shivered at the sensation.

“Touch me,” I urged, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Careful,” he said, his tone dark, warning. But his hands moved higher, exploring every curve of my waist and back. The roughness of his palms against my skin sent a thrill through me.

I tugged at the hem of his sweater, and he paused only long enough to pull it over his head. My breath hitched as I took in the sight of him—lean, muscular, and impossibly gorgeous.

“See something you like?” he teased, his smirk returning despite the heat in his gaze.

“Maybe,” I said, running my hands over his chest, my nails grazing his skin just enough to make him hiss softly.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured, his lips finding mine again.

This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate. His hands roamed over my body, pulling me closer, as though he couldn’t stand even a sliver of space between us. I felt his lips trail down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin before he kissed the spot just below my ear.

I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders. “James...”

His name fell from my lips like a plea, and it seemed to undo him. His hands slid down to my thighs, gripping them firmly as he guided my movements against him. The friction sent sparks shooting through me, and I couldn’t stop the soft sounds escaping my lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered, his voice rough with want. His lips found mine again, capturing every breath, every sigh.

The heat between us built steadily, consuming everything else. His hands never stopped moving, exploring, worshipping, as though he wanted to memorize every inch of me.

My heart raced as I felt James’s hands slide from my waist to my hips, pulling me closer. His lips were on mine, but the kiss was soft, teasing, as if he were waiting for something. Waiting for me to give him permission, or for the right moment to lose himself in the heat of the night.

“I want you, Y/N,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

His hands roamed up my back, brushing against my skin as he slowly pulled my sweater off, the cool air hitting my exposed skin. I raised my arms, allowing him to remove it completely, and he tossed it aside without a second thought. His eyes lingered on me then, his gaze heated and appreciative, his fingers tracing the curve of my shoulders as if memorizing the feel of my skin.

“You’re stunning,” he murmured, his voice a hushed reverence.

Before I could respond, his lips were on my neck again, his kisses soft but insistent. Each press of his mouth against my skin sent a new wave of heat rushing through me. His hands moved lower, fingertips brushing the fabric of my jeans, and I felt the urgency in his touch.

He stopped just before reaching the button, his lips grazing my collarbone. “Let me,” he breathed, the words a quiet request.

I nodded, and with a swift movement, he unbuttoned my jeans, sliding them down my legs. My breath caught as he discarded them, leaving me in nothing but my underwear. His eyes never left mine as his fingers grazed the waistband, giving me a moment to decide if I wanted to go further.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice thick with desire.

I could barely find my voice, the need building too quickly inside me. “Yes," I breathed. "Please."

With a slow, deliberate movement, he slid my underwear off, leaving me bare before him. He took a moment to drink in the sight of me, his eyes darkening as he traced the outline of my body with his gaze.

His lips returned to my chest, trailing soft kisses across the tops of my breasts. His touch was reverent, like he was savoring every inch of me, as if he wanted to commit it all to memory. I let out a soft sigh, unable to keep the moan from escaping my lips as his mouth continued its journey downward.

"James," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Please..."

He didn't need further encouragement. His hands gently cupped my breasts, his thumbs brushing over the sensitive skin. His lips followed, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of my chest, then to the other side, his mouth warm against me. The sensation of his lips, his breath, made every nerve in my body spark with desire.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. My hands found their way to the waistband of his jeans, pulling at it urgently, wanting him just as much as he wanted me. He lifted his hips slightly to help, allowing me to strip him of his jeans, and then his boxers, leaving him just as exposed as I was.

We were both breathing heavily now, our bodies close but not yet fully connected. I wanted him, needed him, and I knew he felt the same way.

James cupped my face, bringing my lips to his once more, his kiss deep and hungry. I responded with equal passion, my hands roaming over his chest, feeling the hard muscles, the warmth of his skin under my fingertips. The sensation of his body against mine, so close, was nearly overwhelming.

“James… what are you doing?” I asked, my voice breathless, a hint of curiosity mixed with excitement.

He stopped for a moment, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “I’m going to fuck you on this table, Y/N. I can’t wait any longer. You’ve made me crazy.” His words were low, rough, and sent a wave of heat flooding through me.

The bluntness of his admission made my heart race. Part of me wanted to stop him, to ask more questions, but the rest of me— the part that burned for him—wanted nothing more than to feel him, to give in to the heat between us. I didn’t answer with words, but with action, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

“You don’t have to ask for permission,” he muttered with a sly grin, his lips brushing mine once again. “I’m taking you, Y/N. You want me just as much.”

His words only fueled the fire inside me. I couldn’t deny it anymore. I wanted him, wanted everything he was offering. And when he finally lowered me onto the table, the cool wood beneath me contrasted sharply with the heat of his body.

James hovered over me for a moment, his hands running down my body as his lips explored my neck, my chest, as if trying to memorize every inch of me. The feeling of him above me, so close, but still not enough, made my skin tingle with anticipation.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, his voice softer now, but still laced with that raw hunger. His hands rested on my thighs, fingertips tracing circles on the sensitive skin there.

“Yes,” I whispered, my hands moving to the waistband of his jeans, undoing them quickly, desperate to feel him against me. “I want you, James. Now.”

He smirked down at me, his lips curling into a wicked grin. “You’re gonna get what you fucking need, babe. Trust me."

James..." I whispered, my voice thick with desire. I wanted him—needed him—so badly it hurt.

"Spread your legs for me," he ordered, his voice commanding but laced with a raw edge that sent a jolt of excitement through me.

I obeyed without hesitation, my legs parting as I looked up at him. My heart was hammering in my chest as he stepped even closer, his body hovering above mine. "That's my good girl," he murmured, his hands trailing down my body, sending shivers of pleasure through me.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear, his voice low and filled with lust. "You're so fucking perfect," he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. "I’ve been thinking about this moment—how it would feel to have you, to finally touch you the way I’ve wanted."

His words made me ache for him more, the anticipation nearly unbearable. I couldn’t take it any longer. "Please, James," I breathed, my voice desperate. "I need you."

He smirked, his lips brushing against my neck as his hands slid down to my waist. "You want me?" he asked, his voice dark with desire. "You want me to fuck you, make you feel everything?"

I nodded, the words caught in my throat. "Yes," I gasped, my hands gripping the edge of the table as I arched up into him. "I need you so badly."

His eyes locked onto mine, a smoldering intensity in them. "Good. You’re gonna get what you need," he growled, his hands moving to my hips as he positioned himself between my legs. "Hold on to the table, baby. Don’t move."

He thrust into me with a force that made me gasp, the sudden stretch of him overwhelming. My body trembled beneath him, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I met him, pushing back against him, urging him to go deeper, faster.

"Fuck," he groaned, his eyes closing briefly. "So tight... so fucking perfect." His thrusts grew faster, each one deeper than the last. "You feel incredible around me, Y/N. So fucking tight. I could stay inside you forever."

I moaned beneath him, my body trembling with each powerful thrust. "James," I gasped, "So good."

His pace increased, and I felt my body tightening in response, the tension building with every thrust. His hand moved to my clit, rubbing it in tight circles, adding to the delicious pressure.

"You’re so close, I can feel it," he muttered, his voice rough. "Let go, baby. Come for me."

The words sent me over the edge. I gasped, my whole body trembling as the orgasm ripped through me. My back arched off the table, my fingers digging into the wood, as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me.

"Fuck, Y/N," James groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he followed me, his body shuddering above me. "So fucking good. I’m not stopping until you’re completely fucked out."

He slammed into me once more, the final thrust sending him over the edge. I felt him pulse inside me, his release filling me as he groaned my name, his hands gripping my hips hard.

We stayed there for a moment, both of us catching our breath, connected in that intimate silence, our bodies still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened.

James slowly pulled out, looking down at me with a mix of affection and desire. His hands gently brushed the hair from my face. "You’re amazing," he said softly, his voice no longer commanding but tender.

I smiled weakly, still feeling the aftershocks of pleasure. "So are you," I whispered, my voice hoarse.

James bent down, placing a soft kiss on my forehead before pulling me into his arms. He paused for a moment, looking around the room. With a small, wry grin, he whispered, "Well... I guess it’s good your parents are still away, huh?"

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in the room lifting just a little. "Yeah, I guess so," I responded, my voice still breathless but lighter now. "Wouldn’t want anyone walking in on... this."

He chuckled, pulling me closer into his embrace. The warmth of his body against mine felt comforting, almost surreal, considering what we’d just shared. "Right," he murmured, his tone still low and teasing. "But, hey, I wouldn’t mind if they stayed away a little longer. We’ve got time."

I smiled, my head resting against his chest as I closed my eyes. "Definitely," I agreed softly, feeling the quiet intimacy of the moment settle between us. With my parents still away on their extended trip, the house felt emptier—just us here now, the world outside forgotten.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

haiii I like your works sm, hope you'll like my request!!

James in his BL cowboy era works on ranch of reader's dad(reader is much younger than James). Reader and him fell in love with each other, while her dad is not good with it and prevents Reader from interacting with James. One night, James steals the reader away from home and they spend a passionate but tender first night together in his little ranch house, where Het takes her virginity and then tenderly takes care of her after making love... ahh I can't stop thinking about how hot cowboy James is😞

love ya!!

God, I love cowboy James, I hope you like it❤ Love ya too!

Warnings: Soft smut, age gap, loss of virginity

The cowboy and the rose

The summer air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers, a lazy breeze carrying the hum of cicadas across the ranch. I sat on the porch swing, the wooden slats creaking beneath me, as I watched James work in the fading light. There was something magnetic about the way he moved, his sun-kissed skin glistening under the weight of hard labor. My father had hired him months ago, but from the moment James set foot on our land, I knew he was trouble—the kind of trouble that pulled at me in ways I couldn’t explain.

James wasn’t like the other ranch hands. There was an air about him, a quiet confidence, the hint of a smirk beneath his dusty cowboy hat. He’d catch my eye now and then, his gaze lingering just long enough to make my heart race. It wasn’t long before my father noticed the way I looked at him—and the way James looked at me.

“You stay away from that man, Y/N,” my father had warned one evening, his voice firm as we sat around the dinner table. “He’s not good for you. Too old, too wild. He’ll bring nothing but heartache.”

I didn’t argue. There was no point when my father had made up his mind, but his words only fueled the fire inside me. James wasn’t reckless; he was kind. He’d stop to help mend a fence or comfort a scared horse, his touch gentle despite the strength in his hands. And when he looked at me, I felt seen—not as the rancher’s daughter, but as a woman.

We’d stolen moments where we could. A whispered conversation in the barn, our hands brushing as we worked side by side. Once, late at night, I’d snuck out to meet him by the river. He’d pulled me close under the stars, his arms wrapped around me as if to shield me from the world.

But my father’s disapproval loomed over us like a storm cloud. He’d started keeping a closer eye on me, his sharp gaze following me wherever I went.

That night, everything changed.

I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of my father’s rules pressing down on me. Then I heard it—the soft tap of pebbles against my window. My heart leapt as I peered outside. There he was, James, standing in the moonlight, his truck parked at the edge of the property.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice barely carrying through the night. “Come with me.”

I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed my boots and slipped out the window, my heart pounding as I crept across the yard. When I reached him, he took my hand, his grip firm but warm.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement.

He looked at me, his dark eyes steady. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

We drove to his small ranch house on the edge of town, the truck rumbling through the quiet night. When we arrived, he helped me out of the cab, his hand lingering on my waist. The house was modest, but it felt like a sanctuary. Inside, the scent of leather and cedar enveloped me, the warm glow of lamplight casting shadows on the walls.

James turned to me, his expression serious. “I know this is a lot,” he said, his voice soft. “If you want to go back, I’ll take you. But if you stay… I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

My breath caught in my throat as I stepped closer. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His lips met mine, the kiss slow and tender, as if he was savoring every moment. He led me to his bedroom, the simplicity of the space reflecting the man himself. There, in the quiet of the night, we came together for the first time.

James kissed me deeply, his hands cupping my face as he murmured against my lips, “You’re so beautiful.” The words sent a warmth through me, making my skin tingle. His touch moved down my arms, his fingers grazing my skin like a whisper, until they settled on my waist, holding me close.

He unbuttoned my blouse with care, his eyes meeting mine with each undone button. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said, his voice steady but filled with need. I shook my head, my breath catching as I helped him shrug off his shirt. His chest was firm and warm, and I let my hands explore the planes of his skin, marveling at how strong yet gentle he was.

When I shivered, he wrapped his arms around me, his lips brushing along my temple. “Cold?” he asked.

“No,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Just nervous. This is my first time.”

James’s expression softened, his hand coming up to gently cup my cheek. “I know,” he said quietly. “And I’ll take care of you, I promise. We’ll go slow, okay?”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I nodded, trusting him completely. “Okay.”

He laid me down on the bed, his movements deliberate and tender. His lips followed the curve of my neck, tracing a line to my collarbone as his hands mapped every inch of my body. I gasped when his touch became more insistent, his kisses trailing lower.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice low but gentle.

“Yes,” I breathed, my hands tangling in his hair. “Please.”

His touch became more purposeful, his hands and lips exploring me with a reverence that made me feel cherished. As he finally joined us together, he moved with a slowness that showed his care for me, pausing just enough to let me adjust, whispering softly, ""Are you okay, sweetheart?" he whispered, moving with a slowness that showed his care for me.

He paused to let me adjust, brushing a soft kiss against my lips, his hand gently cradling my face. "How do you feel?" he asked, his voice a soothing murmur that wrapped around me like a warm embrace.

I hesitated, my words catching in my throat as I tried to make sense of the unfamiliar sensations. "I don’t know," I admitted softly. "It’s strange… but it feels right, being with you."

“I’ll go slow,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to my nerves. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

I nodded, my breath trembling as he began to ease into me. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of discomfort and an unfamiliar fullness. Sensing my tension, he stilled, his forehead pressing gently against mine.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he whispered, his thumb stroking my cheek. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

I exhaled shakily, relaxing under his tender encouragement. Slowly, he moved again, giving me a moment to adjust to every inch. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice a low rumble of concern and love.

“Yes,” I whispered, my hands gripping his shoulders for support. “Don’t stop.”

He pressed another kiss to my lips, his movements careful and unhurried. As the discomfort faded, a new kind of warmth spread through me, and I found myself meeting his rhythm. His whispered words of praise and love grounded me, each one like a lifeline.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “So perfect.”

I clung to him, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. “I’m yours, James,” I whispered, tears slipping down my cheeks.

He moved with a mixture of passion and tenderness, as if every touch and motion were a declaration of his feelings. The room was filled with soft gasps and murmured words, the world beyond the walls fading away entirely.

When we reached our peak together, I felt as though the stars themselves had fallen into the room. James collapsed beside me, pulling me into his arms, our breaths mingling as we lay entangled.

Afterward, he cleaned me with a warm towel, his movements unhurried and soothing. “Does that feel alright?” he asked, his voice still husky but tender.

“It’s perfect,” I replied, watching the way his brow furrowed with concentration as he cared for me.

He climbed back into bed, wrapping the blanket around us and holding me close. “Come here,” he murmured, kissing my forehead. “I’ve got you.”

I rested my head against his chest, his heartbeat a steady reminder of everything we’d just shared. “I love you, James,” I said softly, the words spilling out before I could stop them.

He tipped my chin up, his lips brushing mine in a featherlight kiss. “I love you too, Y/N. More than anything.”

We lay there, the weight of the night sinking into us, but instead of fear, I felt a profound sense of belonging. For the first time, I understood what it meant to be truly seen, truly loved, and I knew I’d never let it go.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

NAUSICA I LOVE SO FREAKING MUCH YOUR WORK

i have a idea for a smutty fanfic with james hetfield 🥳

idk if someone already asked you this but anyways.

I just had the idea of ​​a fanfic of James who is married to reader and they have Cali (James's first daughter) newborn and reader's mother spends almost every day at her house with her granddaughter and those things, and because of those things they have not been able to have sex for months. But one night when his daughter and reader's mother are sleeping they have sex. It may sound strange but since James hasn't fucked for months, he goes a little hard, rough and very vocal with reader and makes everyone else wake up?

thank you so much!

Thank you so much for loving my stories. I'm so sorry if I'm posting this now. I hope you like it!❤

Warnings: mauture themes, sexual themes, strong language

_________________________

Interrupted desire

The house was finally silent. After months of exhaustion, between taking care of our newborn daughter, Cali, and my mother practically moving in to "help," James and I hadn't had a moment alone. Every night, we were either too tired or interrupted, and with my mother always around, privacy was nonexistent. Intimacy had become a distant memory.

But tonight? Tonight was different.

Cali was fast asleep in her bassinet, her tiny breaths even and peaceful. My mother had passed out in the guest room after an entire day of fussing over her granddaughter. For the first time in what felt like forever, there were no interruptions. No baby cries, no unannounced visits—just me, James, and a tension that had been simmering for months.

I barely had time to process it when James's hands were on me, his lips finding mine in a desperate kiss. His touch was rough, needy, and I felt my stomach tighten with anticipation. Months. It had been months since we had touched each other like this, and judging by the way James was gripping me, I wasn’t the only one feeling the ache of longing.

"Fuck, Y/N... you have no idea how much I've missed this," he growled against my skin, his voice thick with need. His hands slid under my shirt, rough fingers dancing over my skin, making me shiver.

I gasped as he lifted me effortlessly, pressing me against the mattress with a hunger that made my body burn. He wasn't holding back tonight. There was no slow build-up, no gentle teasing. Just raw, unfiltered need.

"James—" I barely got his name out before he was on me, his mouth trailing down my neck, teeth grazing my skin as he bit down, sucking marks onto my flesh. His body pressed against mine in a way that made me dizzy. The bed creaked beneath us as he moved, his groans mixing with my gasps.

He was rough. Desperate. Months of frustration poured into every movement. His hands gripped my hips tightly, keeping me right where he wanted me. He flipped me onto my stomach, his fingers pressing bruises into my skin as he yanked my hips back against him.

"You're mine, Y/N. Fuck, I’ve needed you so bad," he rasped, voice raw and wrecked.

The way he was panting, groaning, muttering curses under his breath—he wasn’t holding back, and neither was I. My fingers clawed at the sheets, trying to muffle my own moans, but it was impossible. The headboard hit the wall with a rhythmic thud, and the bedframe creaked louder than I remembered.

Too loud.

James didn’t seem to care. If anything, it only fueled him. His grip on my waist tightened, his thrusts growing even more relentless. He tangled a hand in my hair, tugging my head back as his teeth scraped against my shoulder. "Take it, baby. Fuck, you feel so good."

And then—

"What the hell?!"

The voice sliced through the air like a bucket of ice water.

James froze. My heart nearly stopped.

We turned in sync toward the door, where my mother stood, wide-eyed and horrified. In the crib, Cali stirred, letting out a tiny, confused wail.

James let out a long, frustrated groan and buried his face in the crook of my neck. "God damn it."

Heat flooded my face as I scrambled to grab the covers, my mind racing for an explanation—any explanation—but what could I even say?

Before I could come up with anything, my mother sighed dramatically. "For god's sake, at least have the decency to put a pillow behind the damn headboard next time!"

Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and marched down the hall, muttering under her breath about "young people and their hormones."

As soon as she disappeared, silence hung in the air for a long moment before James let out a breathy chuckle. "Oops."

I swatted at his chest, laughing despite myself. "Oops?! That’s all you have to say?"

James smirked, nuzzling into my neck. "What else can I say? Next time, I’ll try to keep it quieter."

James collapsed on top of me, breathless and defeated. "We finally get a moment and this happens."

I let out a helpless laugh, still reeling. "Well... at least now she knows we’re still married."

He groaned again, rolling off me, arms wrapping around my waist as he pulled me close. "We’re trying this again tomorrow. No interruptions."

"If we survive the embarrassment," I teased.

I rolled my eyes, but the truth was, I couldn’t wait for next time.

And honestly? It really was worth it.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Warnings: 18+, somnophilia, explicit sexual content, sexual themes, adult themes

__________________________________________

-Between Sleep and Desire-

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the moon spilling through the curtains. I lay beside Y/N, her body peacefully nestled under the covers, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest lulling me into a trance. She looked so innocent, so completely unaware of the effect she had on me. My heart raced as I watched her, my gaze lingering on her delicate features, the way her lips parted slightly as if inviting me closer.

I shifted closer, feeling the heat radiating from her body. I had always been captivated by her, but tonight, my desire had taken a sharper edge. The thought of waking her with my touch sent shivers down my spine. I gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, my fingers grazing her skin, marveling at how soft she felt beneath my fingertips.

With an ache in my chest, I leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. The temptation to go further was intoxicating, and I couldn’t resist the urge to explore. I trailed my lips down her cheek, feeling her warmth against me, my desire mounting with each gentle caress. She stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping her lips, and my breath hitched at the sound. 

As if drawn by an unseen force, I let my lips find hers, kissing her softly at first, but the moment our mouths connected, something primal awakened within me. She tasted sweet and inviting, and I found myself deepening the kiss, my hands roaming down her body, exploring the curves I had longed to touch.

Y/N didn’t wake, her body responding instinctively to my touch. I pushed the boundaries of my desire, my hands slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, feeling the soft warmth of her skin. The sight of her so vulnerable and unaware sent a rush of heat coursing through my veins. I kissed my way down her neck, savoring the taste of her skin, and as I nibbled lightly at her collarbone, a soft moan escaped her lips.

Encouraged by her response, I ventured lower, my fingers sliding beneath the waistband of her shorts, brushing against the softness of her thighs. The thrill of knowing she was still asleep made my heart race. I leaned in closer, my breath hot against her core as I took my time teasing her, my lips brushing against her folds. She shifted again, a soft whimper escaping her, and I almost lost control. I needed her to wake up, to feel everything I was doing to her, but for now, I would take what I could get.

As I began to taste her, my tongue sliding through her folds, she reacted almost immediately, her body arching into me. The taste of her sent me spiraling into a haze of desire. I felt like I was in a dream, completely consumed by her sweetness, lost in the sensation of pleasuring her while she remained blissfully unaware.

With each flick of my tongue, I coaxed more soft sights from her, and I felt a surge of triumph at the effect I had on her even in her sleep. I could feel her body responding, her hips moving against me as if she were dreaming of the pleasure I was giving her. 

It was intoxicating, and I wanted more. I needed to feel her, to have her fully awake and begging for more. I slipped a finger inside her, and her body a little tensed, her eyes fluttering open, confusion mixed with a haze of pleasure as she looked down at me.

“What… what are you doing?” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep, but there was a hint of desire in her eyes that made my heart race.

“I couldn’t help myself,” I confessed, my voice low and filled with urgency. “You looked so beautiful, so tempting. I needed to taste you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as she registered my words, but instead of pushing me away, she bit her lip, her cheeks flushing with a mix of surprise and desire. “James…” she began, but her voice trailed off as I continued to work my fingers inside her, my mouth still teasing her.

The room was filled with the sound of her breaths, quickening with every thrust of my fingers, and I felt a rush of satisfaction knowing I was the one causing her pleasure. “Just feel, Y/N,” I urged, my breath hot against her skin. “Let me take care of you.”

She nodded, her eyes locking onto mine as the realization of what was happening fully set in. The shift in her demeanor was electric, and I felt her body respond eagerly as I added another finger, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot.

“James, please…” she gasped, her voice a mix of desperation and desire, and I knew she was ready for more. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I wanted to feel her wrapped around me, to share this moment fully with her.

I pulled away, my fingers still buried inside her, and positioned myself above her, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. The taste of her lingered on my tongue, and I could feel her heart racing beneath me. “Are you sure?” I asked, searching her eyes for any hesitation.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice filled with urgency. “I want you.”

With that, I sank into her, feeling her warmth envelop me as I filled her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and connection that sent us both spiraling. I could feel her body clenching around me, and I groaned at the sheer bliss of being inside her.

We moved together, our bodies finding a rhythm that felt natural, electric. I lost myself in the way she responded to me, the sounds of our breaths mingling as we drew closer to the edge. I leaned down, kissing her deeply, pouring all my desire into that moment.

“James, don’t stop,” she begged, her eyes pleading with me to give her everything. 

“I won’t,” I promised, my voice low and filled with need as I quickened my pace. Each thrust brought us closer, the tension coiling tightly within us. 

With one final push, I felt her body tighten around me, her pleasure crashing over her as she cried out my name. The sound sent me over the edge, and I followed her into bliss, feeling the warmth of our connection wrap around us like a blanket.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, I collapsed beside her, pulling her into my arms. We lay there, hearts racing, a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction washing over us. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you like that,” I murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Y/N smiled softly, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “I’m glad you did,” she replied, her voice filled with a lingering hint of desire. “You’re incredible.”

I grinned, feeling a rush of affection for her. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”

She looked at me, her expression a blend of surprise and excitement. “Neither did I… until now.”

[nausicaamusiclover20]

I need to see 2002 James tied up whimpering, begging, sobbing 😊

Warnings: 18+ explicit language, mature themes, sexual content, and depictions of bondage and restraint, power dynamics.

Hope you like it!❤

________________________

Surrounded by Desire

The dim light of the bedroom wrapped around us like a warm, seductive blanket, casting soft shadows across the walls. I looked down at James, his wrists securely restrained to the bed with soft, inviting fabric, and a thrill pulsed through me. He looked utterly divine—completely captive, filled with longing, and exuding raw desire. Every quickened breath he took, laced with excitement, sent heat spiraling through me.

“Y/n…” he breathed, his voice trembling with need. The desperation in his tone stirred something primal within me, igniting a fire that begged to be unleashed. I could see the look in his eyes, an eagerness, a silent invitation to explore every boundary that made my skin flush with anticipation.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in letting you go?” I smirked, relishing the control I had over him. I leaned down, letting my fingers glide over his chest, tracing the hard lines of his body with deliberate slowness. Each caress heightened the tension that swirled between us. “You know you’re all mine tonight. Are you ready to see just how far I can push you?”

His cheeks flushed a deep crimson, his chest rising and falling faster—a clear sign of his eagerness. “Y-Yes,” he admitted, his voice thick with desire, a trust shining in his eyes.

“Good,” I said, my tone low and dripping with sultry promise. Leaning in, I brushed my lips against his ear, letting my breath tease him relentlessly. “Tell me what you want, baby. I want to hear you beg for it.”

“I want you…” he whispered, his breath hitching as I teased him. “Please… I need you. I want you so fucking badly.”

“Want me to do what?” I pressed, trailing my fingers lower, skimming just above the waistband of his boxers, a teasing promise hanging in the air. I could see him squirm, that mixture of urgency and desperation etched on his face as he strained against the bonds, every fiber of his being yearning for release.

“Just… take control. Please… fuck me,” he gasped, his voice strained and filled with need. The sight of him—so obedient, so willing—made my heart race with delight.

“Such a good boy,” I purred, the words escaping my lips like silk. I leaned closer, letting my lips brush against his skin, my breath hot against him. “You look so fucking sexy when you let me take charge of you. How could I possibly resist?”

I slowly pulled down his boxers, exposing his eager length to the cool air. He gasped as I pulled them away, reveling in the way my teasing made him squirm beneath me.

Then, I positioned myself above him, straddling his hips. I locked my gaze on his, a wicked smile on my lips. “You ready for this?” I asked, my voice dropping to a sultry whisper.

“Yes! Please, Y/n, please… I need you!” His eyes were wide, filled with that raw need that drove me wild.

I lowered myself down slowly, feeling him stretch me as I sank onto him. A moan escaped my lips, blending with his sharp gasp as I filled myself with him completely. The sensation sent waves of pleasure radiating through my entire body. “So fucking good,” I breathed, relishing the moment, the stretch, and the heat between us.

“Damn, you feel incredible,” he groaned, thrusting his hips upward eagerly, searching for more as his hand tangled in my hair.

With a wicked smile, I tightened around him, savoring the friction. “You like that, don’t you?” I teased, lifting myself slightly before sliding back down, relishing how he filled me completely. “You’re going to feel even better.”

I teased him relentlessly, using my hips to roll and grind against him, every movement pushing us both closer to the edge of ecstasy.

“Y/n, please… don’t tease like this,” he begged, desperation lacing his voice. “I need more! I can’t take it!”

“More? You want more?” I taunted, turning the heat between us into molten desire. My eyes sparkled with mischief as I began to pick up the pace, riding him harder, the sound of our bodies joining, filling the room. “Then show me how badly you want it.”

“Fuck! Yes! Just like that!” he cried out, eyes dark with lust. “Don’t stop! I want you to ride me harder!”

I leaned forward, pressing my body against his as I continued to ride him, capturing every inch of pleasure coursing through us. I could feel the heat of his body beneath me and hear the desperate rhythm of his breath matching the tempo of my movements.

“You’re doing so well for me,” I whispered in his ear, letting my lips brush against his skin. “I want to feel you come for me, James. Can you do that? Can you give it to me?”

“Y/N, I’m so close!” he gasped, the urgency tinging his voice as I felt him tense beneath me. Every pulse of his body spoke volumes of the pleasure he was teetering on.

“Then let go. Give in to me,” I urged, my voice sultry and commanding. “I want to see you fall apart, scream for me when you do.”

With one last thrust, I pushed him over the edge, his body shaking violently as pleasure rushed through him, sending him soaring into ecstasy. “Y/N!” he shouted, his voice a beautiful symphony of pure pleasure, the sound sending waves of heat rolling through me.

I was entranced as I watched him unravel, the power of the moment coursing through me. As I tightened around him, the sensation propelled me into my own release, and I lost myself in the overwhelming bliss of it all.

As the waves of pleasure finally subsided, I collapsed onto his chest, both of us panting, hearts racing in tandem. The room was filled with the sound of our breaths and the stillness that settled over us. I smiled, brushing my fingers through his hair, feeling the warmth of him beneath me, still connected.

After a few moments of stillness, I looked into his eyes, filled with satisfaction and love. “You did amazing,” I whispered, my voice thick with affection. “You were incredible, James.”

With a soft smile playing on my lips, I grabbed the soft restraints binding his wrists and carefully began to untie him, loosening the fabric that had held him captive. “Now you’re free,” I said playfully, my fingers grazing his skin, igniting a gentle thrill.

He smiled back, eyes twinkling with a mix of affection and slight mischief. “Free for what?”

“Free to come here,” I teased, wiggling my fingers to indicate my lap, as I repositioned myself beside him on the bed. “I might have another way to reward you for being such a good boy tonight.”

He chuckled softly, pulling me close as I settled beside him, safe in the warmth of our shared moment. As I nestled against his side, I felt a mixture of intimacy and excitement swirling in the air between us, knowing this was just the beginning of many adventures we would share together.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hi)) I was rewatching the “year in life of Metallica” recently and apparently the walls of studio they used were covered with girls from adult magazines plus they used to call strippers in (there’s actually a scene of one of these girls dancing in the studio). So I was thinking that James doesn’t want his fiancé to come to studio cause “we’re too busy and it’s gonna be boring for you”. One day she comes to bring him and the guys some dinner, but then she discovers the magazines and through the ajar door sees the stripper. The worst past is that even James is enjoying the show; Kirk, Jason and Lars were going through tue divorce at the time so technically, they get a pass. She rather shy and not very self confident, so she just leaves, without making a scene. However, that makes her think that James doesn’t find her sexually attractive, otherwise why the magazines and the stripper? She pretends like nothing happened until one day he complains about something so she snaps and telling him that he can always leave her and go to live with that stripper?

I hope you like it!❤

Behind closed doors

The smell of rosemary and roasted chicken fills the car as I pull into the studio parking lot. My hands tremble slightly on the steering wheel, a mix of nerves and excitement twisting in my stomach. James has been working so hard—late nights, long hours, always coming home smelling like beer and exhaustion.

“It’s boring, babe,” he always says when I ask about coming to visit. “Just us sitting around, arguing about riffs and drinking too much coffee.”

But I know it’s more than that. He’s protecting me from something, though I’ve never been sure what. Maybe it’s the stress, or the chaos, or just the raw intensity of his world.

Tonight, though, I wanted to surprise him. Bring dinner for him and the guys. Show him that I’m here, supporting him, even if I’m not part of that side of his life.

The studio hallway is dim and quiet, except for the faint thrum of bass vibrating through the walls. I balance the takeout bags in one hand and push open the heavy front door with the other, stepping inside. My sneakers squeak against the polished floors as I follow the music toward the main recording room.

When I reach the door, it’s slightly ajar, just enough for me to peek inside.

The first thing I notice is the walls. They’re covered in glossy pages from magazines—pages of women. Beautiful, confident, nude women. My breath catches, and I instinctively step back, the bag handles digging into my palm.

Okay. It’s just... decoration. Maybe it’s been like that for a while, and I never knew. It doesn’t mean anything, right?

But then I hear the laughter—Lars’s sharp, boisterous cackle, Jason’s low chuckle, Kirk’s unmistakable snort. And then, over the music, I see her.

A stripper.

She’s dancing in the center of the room, moving in time with the heavy beat of a song I don’t recognize. Her body sways effortlessly, her confidence filling the space. The guys are cheering her on, their voices blending into a chaotic roar of approval.

And then I see James.

He’s leaning back in his chair, a beer in hand, his lips curved into a wide grin. He looks relaxed, entertained... happy. My James. The man who tells me I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. The man who promised me I was all he’d ever need.

I feel like the ground has crumbled beneath me. My heart pounds painfully in my chest, and I take a shaky step back, my vision blurring. My head is screaming at me to walk in there, to confront him, to demand an explanation. But my feet won’t move forward.

Instead, I turn and walk away.

The bag of food feels heavy in my hand as I make my way back to the car. I toss it onto the passenger seat, climb in, and slam the door. My chest aches, but I don’t cry. Not yet.

The next few days pass in a haze. I don’t tell James what I saw. Every time I look at him, I see the walls, the stripper, the way he smiled at her. And every time, the thought eats away at me a little more.

I try to push it down, to pretend it doesn’t matter, but the questions won’t stop. Am I not enough for him? Does he need that kind of excitement to be happy? Why didn’t he want me there?

By the fourth day, I’m barely holding it together.

“What’s wrong?” James asks, his brow furrowing as he watches me pick at my dinner.

“Nothing,” I lie, forcing a smile that feels like it might crack my face.

He doesn’t buy it. “You’ve been acting weird all week. Did I do something?”

And just like that, the dam bursts.

“Did you do something?” I slam my fork onto the table, the clang echoing in the silence. “Oh, I don’t know, James. Maybe you should ask the stripper in your studio if you did something!”

His eyes widen in shock. “What are you talking about?”

I push my chair back and stand, my chest heaving. “I came to surprise you with dinner. I saw everything, James. The walls, the magazines, her. You told me it was boring, that I wouldn’t want to be there. But it didn’t look boring to me. You looked like you were having a great time.”

“Y/N—”

“No!” I cut him off, tears streaming down my face. “Do you even want me anymore? Or am I just the boring one you come home to after you’re done living your real life at the studio?”

“Stop it,” he says, his voice breaking.

“Why?” I throw my hands up. “It’s true, isn’t it? If I was enough for you, you wouldn’t need those walls. You wouldn’t need her.”

For a moment, he just stares at me, his face pale and stricken. Then, slowly, he moves toward me, his hands reaching out as if he’s afraid I’ll bolt.

“Y/N,” he says softly, his voice trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

I shake my head, pulling away from his touch. “Sorry doesn’t fix this, James.”

“I know,” he says, his hands dropping to his sides. “But you have to believe me. None of that—none of it—means anything to me. It’s stupid. It’s just... studio crap. I didn’t think. I didn’t realize how much it would hurt you. But you... you’re everything to me.”

I look at him, searching his face for any hint of a lie. All I see is regret. And love.

“Why didn’t you want me there?” I whisper.

“Because I didn’t want you to see that,” he admits, his voice raw. “Not because I’m ashamed of you, but because I’m ashamed of myself. You’re so much better than all of that. Better than me.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut.

“I don’t need better,” I say quietly. “I just need you.”

He steps closer, his hands trembling as he cups my face. “Then I promise you, Y/N. No more walls. No more excuses. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us.”

For a long moment, I just stand there, letting his words wash over me. Finally, I nod, leaning into his touch.

“We’ll fix this,” I whisper.

And for the first time in days, I feel like maybe, just maybe, we can.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Since I love November, I couldn't help but write something about the vibes it gives me. Anyway, I got this idea while I was walking in a park.

Wrapped in love

The November air bites at my skin, and I pull my scarf tighter around my neck, wishing I'd grabbed something heavier than my thin coat. The park is almost empty now, with only a few stray leaves dancing in the wind. James walks beside me, his steps steady, matching mine without a word. The trees are bare, their limbs reaching up to the gray sky, and the world feels still, like it's holding its breath in the cold.

I shiver, my breath puffing out in little clouds, and James glances over at me, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Are you cold?" His voice is soft, but I can hear the concern in it.

I shake my head quickly, trying to brush it off. "No, I'm fine. Really. It's not that bad."

But he looks at me, his eyes soft and searching, and his expression softens even more. "Y/n," he says, his tone quiet but firm. "You're freezing. Come here."

Before I can protest, he's already pulling off his sheepskin coat, the familiar warmth of it making me smile a little even before it's wrapped around me. It smells like him—like leather and something else I can't quite name—and it feels like home.

"James, I'm okay," I begin, but he's not hearing it. He carefully drapes the coat over my shoulders, his fingers brushing against my skin, and I feel the warmth seep into me immediately. But it's more than just the coat. It's the way he looks at me—tender, like he wants to take care of me, like he *always* wants to take care of me.

His hands linger for just a moment on the collar, adjusting it around my neck, and I can't help but watch him. There's no rush, no hurry. Just him, looking at me with that soft affection I've come to know so well.

"You're shivering," he says quietly, his voice low, full of concern. "I'm not going to let you freeze."

I smile at him, my heart fluttering at how much he means it. I move closer, pulling the coat tighter around me and instinctively stepping a little nearer to him, wanting to share the warmth he's offering me.

"Don't freeze because of me," I murmur, pressing a hand against his arm.

James looks down at me, his expression softening even more, and I feel that little spark between us—a quiet, intimate connection that's always been there, but now feels a little more special. The way his fingers graze my cheek as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear makes my breath catch. I don't even try to hide the smile that spreads across my face.

"I'll survive," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you're the one I'm worried about."

I pull the coat tighter around me and shift just a little closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder for a moment. It feels natural, like this is exactly where I'm supposed to be.

"Thank you," I say softly, my voice full of affection, of trust, and more than just gratitude for the coat.

James's lips curl into that familiar smile, the one that always makes my heart race. "Anything for you," he says, the words carrying a weight that makes my chest feel full.

I look up at him, feeling the love between us in the air, and for a moment, I just want to stay like this forever. In this little bubble where nothing else matters but the two of us.

"I think you're right," I tease softly. "It does look better on me."

James laughs, the sound rich and warm, and he leans in to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. "I don't mind," he says with a grin. "I'll just have to steal it back later."

I roll my eyes playfully, but the truth is, I never want to give the coat back. It's not just the coat that makes me feel warm, though. It's him. "Always him."

We sit on a bench beneath a bare tree, the last of the leaves fluttering around us. I'm still wrapped in the coat, and for a long moment, neither of us speaks. I can feel his presence next to me—so familiar, so comforting. The way he looks at me, the way his hand brushes against mine, like we've always been this close.

Finally, I whisper, "I'm keeping it. For tonight."

James smiles that sweet, knowing smile. "Keep it as long as you need," he murmurs. "I don't mind being the one who's cold for a while, as long as you're warm."

And just like that, the world fades a little—just the two of us, the cold night, and a coat that's shared.

Suddenly, I feel like I can't leave him in suspense any longer. Without thinking, I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. It's gentle, full of affection, and when I pull back, I see the surprise in his eyes. But it's not awkward; instead, he smiles, warmth radiating from him in a way that only makes me love him more.

"Thank you," I whisper again, my voice barely more than a breath. But this time, it's not just for the coat. It's for everything. For the love he gives me, for the way he cares, for the way he makes me feel like I'm the most important person in the world.

James pulls me into a hug then, strong and sure, wrapping his arms around me like he never wants to let go. I bury my face into his chest, feeling safe and loved, my heart swelling in my chest.

"Always, Y/n. I'll always take care of you," he murmurs into my hair.

And with him holding me like this, wrapped up in the warmth of his embrace, I know—I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Where did you sleep last night?

The apartment feels colder than usual tonight. The silence between us has been stretching longer with each passing day, each unanswered message, each quiet evening. The kitchen light hums softly above me as I stand, alone, waiting for him to come home. His absence weighs heavily on my chest. I've tried to be patient, but tonight, I can't ignore it anymore. The doubts have been gnawing at me for weeks—where has he been? What's really going on? And where did he sleep last night?

The clock ticks steadily, each second stretching longer than the last. My eyes flicker between the time on my phone and the half-eaten dinner on the table, untouched. He promised he'd be home by eight. It's now well past midnight.

I try to calm my racing thoughts, but it's impossible. It feels like the more I wait, the worse it gets. Lately, James has been distant—too distant. At first, I told myself it was just work, that he was overwhelmed, that he just needed time. But the more he withdrew, the more I began to doubt myself.

Maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe he's just busy.

But deep down, I know something's off. The way he avoids my questions, the late nights that stretch into hours, the messages he leaves unanswered, the strange looks he gives me when I ask about his day... None of it adds up. I can feel it in my gut. I just need him to be honest with me.

Finally, the door creaks open. My heart lurches. I don't know if it's out of relief, anger, or something else entirely.

James steps inside, his face tired, eyes shadowed from exhaustion. He doesn't meet my gaze, only kicks off his shoes and hangs his jacket by the door. I stay where I am, arms crossed tightly in front of me.

"Hey," he says, his voice low and strained, but it's the same monotone he's used for the past few weeks.

"Hey," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. I try to keep my tone neutral, but there's a sharpness to it, a quiet tension hanging between us. He heads toward the kitchen to grab a drink, but I can't let him off the hook this time.

I watch him, the words I've been holding back suddenly rushing to the surface. I don't want to do this, but I have no choice. I need to know what's been happening.

"Where did you sleep last night?" The question slips out before I can stop myself. My voice sounds quieter than I intended, almost like a crack in the quiet we've been living in.

James freezes, his hand hovering over the fridge handle. The air between us thickens. I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches. He doesn't turn to face me, but I know he's heard me.

"What do you mean?" he asks after a long pause, his voice betraying a hint of defensiveness.

The words catch in my throat, but I push through the fear that tightens around me. "I mean... where were you last night, James? I haven't seen you in hours. And don't say work. You've been saying that for weeks, but I don't believe it anymore. I just want to know the truth."

James finally turns to face me, but it's not the look I expect. There's something in his eyes—guilt? Frustration? He's not angry, but there's an unease that runs deep in him. His face softens, but the distance between us feels like an ocean.

"I'm just tired, Y/n. I've been working a lot. I told you, it's not what you think," he says, his voice flat.

But I can't shake the feeling that he's lying. My chest tightens, and I feel a knot in my stomach. He's been telling me the same thing for weeks—work, work, work. But I know him. I know when something is off.

"No," I say, my voice trembling, but I stand my ground. "It's not just work. It's something else. Something you're not telling me. What's really going on, James?" I take a step toward him, and he takes a step back. I don't care. I need to know. "Where did you sleep last night? Tell me."

The silence is thick now, suffocating. His eyes flicker, and for a moment, I think he might walk away, but instead, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. There's something in his face—something that makes my heart sink.

"I... I didn't sleep well. I was out of town, alright? I didn't think you'd notice," he says, his words stumbling out in a way that only deepens the pit in my stomach.

I shake my head, disbelief flooding through me. "Out of town? Since when? You didn't tell me. You didn't mention any of this to me, James."

His gaze hardens. He opens his mouth to speak, but I don't wait. I've had enough of the vague answers, the lies, the silence. "Don't lie to me," I snap, my voice sharp with a rawness I didn't know I had in me. My eyes burn with the weight of all the unspoken truths. "I know something's going on. You've been acting so distant, and I'm not going to let you keep lying to me like this."

James stares at me, stunned, but it's not the shock of someone caught in a lie. It's the shock of someone who knows they've been exposed, and yet still doesn't know how to fix it.

"I'm not lying, Y/n," he says, but his voice falters. There's a hesitation there. "I've just... I've been pulling away. I didn't know how to deal with everything. I didn't know how to talk to you about it."

Don't lie to me.

Those words echo in my mind. The truth is all I've been asking for. But instead, I've been given pieces—fragments of explanations that don't add up. And I can't keep pretending it's okay.

"No." I shake my head, stepping back. "You don't get to keep doing this. Don't say you didn't know how to talk to me. You've been avoiding me. You've been shutting me out." I take another step toward him, my voice rising in anger and hurt. "You lied to me, James. And I can't keep doing this anymore."

James's face softens with regret, but it's too little, too late. He steps forward, but I raise my hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"No," I say quietly, my heart heavy. "I can't do this. I need you to tell me the truth, James. I need you to be honest with me, or I don't know what's left of us."

There's a long silence. He looks at me, guilt and sorrow etched into every inch of his face, but I'm past being the one who waits for him to figure it out.

"I can't keep doing this alone," I whisper, a tear escaping despite my efforts to stay strong. "You've already pulled away from me. I don't know if there's anything left to save."

James stands there, his face pale, eyes filled with regret and guilt. But I can't look at him anymore. I can't be the one holding everything together when I'm falling apart.

"I need time," I whisper, turning toward the door. "I don't know if I can do this anymore."

As I walk out of the room, I hear him call my name. But I won't stop. I can't stop. The questions still echo in my mind: Where did he sleep last night? And where do we go from here?

The door clicks shut behind me, and the silence in the apartment is unbearable.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hello I hope you are doing well))

I saw this gif of James from 2010s when he talks about having a crush on his teacher in high school and says “I always had a thing for blondes”. And reader has dark hair so she’s very sad to hear that; she was always insecure about not being a a typical rockstar wife - tall, blonde, hot - she starts to avoid being intimate with him, going to events, etc as she feels that he married her only cause she she helped him after rehab in early 2000s, like he felt obliged to her?

James doesn’t notice until he says the exact same thing in the other interview, so she finally snaps? And tells him that if he likes blondes do much she can give him a divorce first thing tomorrow? They argue but next day James makes breakfast and he understood that he messed up and they make up?

Hello, I wish you're fine too. I hope you like it!❤

Not what you think

 The static hum of the TV filled the room as I sat curled up on the couch, flipping absently through channels. James was in the studio today, working on another project. The house felt too quiet without him, and my thoughts had been anything but. I stopped on a talk show, a familiar host grinning as he introduced his guest. The screen lit up with James’ face, that easy smile of his pulling a laugh from the audience. I couldn’t help but smile a little too.

Then it happened.

The host asked about high school crushes, and James, always quick with a candid answer, laughed as he said, “Oh, I had the biggest crush on my history teacher. She was blonde, of course. I always had a thing for blondes.”

The audience laughed along, but the words hit me like a gut punch.

Blondes. Of course.

I turned off the TV, throwing the remote onto the couch with more force than necessary. My heart sank as I sat there, staring blankly at the dark screen. I felt a hot lump rise in my throat, and my chest tightened with that familiar ache I hated so much. It was stupid, wasn’t it? Just an offhand comment, a joke. It didn’t mean anything. But no matter how much I tried to rationalize it, I couldn’t stop the spiral.

I glanced at my reflection in the glass of the fireplace. Dark hair, average height, not much of anything special. Certainly not the statuesque, sun-kissed women James seemed to joke about—women I’d seen backstage at shows, in the magazines, or walking down the street with their effortless beauty. The kind of women who looked like they belonged next to someone like him.

I’d never been that. Never would be.

James didn’t marry me for that, I reminded myself, and for a moment, the thought brought me some comfort. But then another thought crept in, colder and harsher: Did he marry me because he felt like he owed me? I had been there for him,  during one of the darkest periods of his life. I’d helped him through rehab, held him together when he was falling apart. Maybe…maybe he stayed with me out of gratitude, not love.

The ache in my chest deepened. What if I was just…safe? Reliable? The sensible choice?

I didn’t go to the studio that night like I usually would. I didn’t call him either. Instead, I busied myself with mindless tasks around the house, hoping that by the time James came home, I’d be able to act like everything was fine.

Weeks passed, but the weight of that comment lingered. It wasn’t just the comment itself—it was everything it brought to the surface. I started avoiding events, skipping out on dinners and parties where I knew I’d feel like an outsider among the blonde, model-perfect wives and girlfriends. I stopped initiating intimacy, pulling away whenever James tried to get close.

“You okay?” he asked one night, his voice soft with concern as he reached for my hand. I pulled it away before I could think better of it.

“Just tired,” I lied, forcing a weak smile. “Long day.”

He frowned but didn’t push. That was James: patient, understanding. It made me feel worse.

The breaking point came during another interview. I’d been flipping through channels again, my curiosity getting the better of me. There he was, laughing and charming the audience. It was almost the exact same question as before, and as if on cue, he said it again.

“Blondes. Yeah, I always had a thing for blondes.”

The remote slipped from my hand, clattering to the floor. I stared at the screen, my stomach twisting in knots. I couldn’t do this anymore.

When James got home that evening, I was waiting for him in the living room. My heart was pounding in my chest, my hands trembling as I clenched them tightly in my lap. He walked in with his usual easy smile, but it faltered when he saw the look on my face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, concerned about coloring his voice.

I stood up, crossing my arms tightly over my chest as if that could hold me together.

“If you like blondes so much, maybe I should give you the chance to be with one,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “We can call a lawyer first thing tomorrow.”

James froze, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What? What are you talking about?”

I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “I’m talking about how I’ll never be what you really want. You’ve made it pretty clear, haven’t you? I see the way you look at those women, James. I hear what you say about blondes. And then there’s me. The charity case.”

“Charity case?” he repeated, his voice rising in disbelief. “Y/N, this is stupid. It was just a joke, alright? Blondes don’t mean anything.”

“Don’t you dare!” I snapped, my voice cracking. “You don’t think it matters? Do you have any idea how insecure that makes me feel? I’m supposed to be okay with that? Do you know what it’s like to feel like I’m just not good enough because I’m not blonde, or tall, or anything like those women you always joke about?”

James stepped forward, frustration flashing in his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that, okay? I was just being stupid on TV. But you're acting like I’ve been telling you I don’t love you or something.”

“Isn’t that what it feels like?” I shot back, feeling the tears burn in my eyes. “You always joke about them, about the ‘perfect’ women, and I’m here—trying to make this work with someone who doesn’t even seem to notice what he’s doing to me.”

He looked like he was about to say something, but I held up a hand, cutting him off. “I don’t want to talk anymore, James. I just can’t right now.”

Without another word, I turned and stormed off, locking myself in our bedroom. I collapsed onto the bed, the sobs wracking through me as everything I’d kept inside for so long spilled out. I could hear James’ voice faintly on the other side of the door, but I couldn’t face him. Not yet.

The next morning, I woke to the smell of coffee and something sweet wafting through the air. I sniffed the air, a faint sense of warmth and comfort tugging at me. When I walked into the kitchen, James was standing at the stove, his hair messy, wearing his usual sleep shirt and sweatpants. The table was set with a plate of pancakes, freshly cut fruit, and a steaming cup of coffee.

He turned when he heard me, and his face softened. “Morning,” he said quietly, though his voice was a little raw. “I, uh… made us breakfast.”

I stared at him for a long moment, still feeling the weight of last night’s argument, but the gesture caught me off guard. He set the pan down and walked over to me, taking my hands gently in his. “I’m sorry, Y/N. For what I said. I was being an idiot. I never meant to make you feel like that. I never wanted you to feel less than. You are everything to me, and I know I messed up. I know I’ve hurt you.”

Tears pricked at my eyes again as he continued. “You are so special to me. You’re the one I chose. And I was stupid for not realizing how deeply it was affecting you. Please, forgive me.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “I was just scared, James. Scared that maybe you wanted someone else… someone who fits better.”

He cupped my face gently, brushing away the tears. “You fit me perfectly, Y/N. You always have. I don’t need anyone else. Only you.”

I leaned into his touch, my breath shaky. The ache in my chest started to fade as I allowed myself to believe him. When he pulled me into a hug, I melted into his arms, letting myself feel the warmth of his love, the strength of his sincerity.

“Let’s eat,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Together.”

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Warnings: Mature Themes,Explicit Content Sexual Content,Strong Language,Intense Sexual Content, Emotional Intensity,Sensitive Topics (About marriage)

P.S I wanted to tell you this story is a work of fiction and is not intended to represent any real-life events or individuals. It is solely for entertainment purposes.

Craving the Forbidden

The rhythmic hum of the vacuum cleaner filled the mansion, steady and soothing as I moved through the sprawling halls. This place was a fortress of luxury—high ceilings, dark wood, and towering windows that framed views of an endless horizon. It felt like a castle, but it was so quiet it might as well have been a mausoleum.

I’d been working here for two years, long enough to know every creak of the floorboards, every shadow that shifted with the setting sun. Long enough to know the man who lived here, too.

James Hetfield.

He wasn’t just my employer; he was a rock god. Frontman of Metallica, a legend whose name carried more weight than I could fathom. And yet, he was also something else. Something infinitely more complicated.

James Hetfield wasn’t supposed to be kind. Or thoughtful. Or so... human. But he was. And that’s what made working here harder than it should’ve been.

I dusted the shelves in the library, my hands steady even though my thoughts weren’t. I had no right to think about him the way I did. He was married. Famous. Completely out of reach.

And yet, I couldn’t help the way my chest tightened every time I saw him.

The front door clicked open, the sound reverberating through the empty halls. My breath caught. I wasn’t expecting him.

“Y/n?” His deep, gravelly voice echoed down the hall.

I straightened, smoothing my apron before stepping out into the foyer. He stood there, guitar case slung over one shoulder, sunglasses pushed up into his tousled hair. His presence filled the room like a storm rolling in—effortless, magnetic, dangerous.

“James,” I said, keeping my voice even. “I didn’t think you’d be home today.”

“Change of plans,” he said, setting the guitar down by the door. His lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile. “Thought I’d work from home for a bit.”

I nodded, clutching my cleaning supplies tightly. “I’ll stay out of your way.”

“You never do.” The words were soft, but they carried an undercurrent that made my pulse quicken.

I ducked my head and hurried back to the kitchen, my cheeks burning. The hours crawled by as I moved through the house, each room feeling smaller and more suffocating with him here. His presence was impossible to ignore—the faint sound of his guitar drifting from the living room, the occasional creak of floorboards as he moved upstairs.

By the time I reached his office, my nerves were frayed. This was the one room I avoided whenever I could. It felt too personal. The walls were lined with gold records, guitars propped in every corner, and framed photos that told the story of his life. Photos of his band, his kids, his wife.

Those pictures always made my chest ache.

I pushed open the door, steeling myself as I set down the bucket of supplies. My hands trembled slightly as I dusted the bookshelves, each movement careful and deliberate.

“You don’t have to do that right now.”

His voice startled me, and I turned sharply to see him standing in the doorway. His arms were crossed, but his expression was anything but casual.

“Sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. His eyes locked on mine, filled with something raw, something that made it impossible to breathe.

“I was just finishing up,” I said quickly, moving to grab my supplies. “I’ll leave—” “Y/n,” he interrupted, his voice softer now. “Stay. Please.”I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. “Why?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his confidence faltering. “Because I need to tell you something.”

The room seemed to shrink around us, the air thick and charged. I leaned against the desk, gripping the edge for support. “What is it?”

James sighed, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of his words was too much to carry. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t want you.”

My breath hitched, my grip tightening on the desk. “You shouldn’t say that.”

“I know,” he said, his gaze steady despite the crack in his voice. “But it’s the truth. And I think you feel it too.”

Tears burned in my eyes as I shook my head. “James, you’re married. This isn’t right.”

His jaw tightened, and he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “My marriage has been broken for years, Y/n. We’re just holding on for the kids, for the image, for everything except love.”

“That doesn’t make this okay,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

“I know it doesn’t,” he said, his eyes searching mine. “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. How I’ve felt for a long time.”

The words hit me like a tidal wave, breaking down every defense I’d built over the past two years. I stared at him, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I don’t know how to stop feeling this way,” I admitted, my voice trembling.

James closed the distance between us, his hand brushing against mine. The touch was soft, tentative, but it sent a shiver down my spine. “Then don’t,” he whispered.

I looked up at him, my resolve crumbling as his fingers gently traced the back of my hand. Before I could think, before I could stop myself, I leaned into him. His arms wrapped around me, strong and steady, pulling me against his chest.

The space between us disappeared entirely, his body pressing against mine as we sank deeper into the couch. His hands, steady and deliberate, slid over my waist and up my back, drawing me closer. Each touch sent a shiver racing through me, my skin coming alive beneath his fingertips.

His lips never left mine for long, returning again and again with an urgency that grew with every passing second. When he pulled back to catch his breath, his forehead rested against mine, his lips brushing lightly over my cheek, my jaw.

“Y/n,” he murmured, his voice thick and low, a plea more than a word.

I tilted my head, granting him the space to let his lips trail down the line of my neck. The heat of his breath, the faint scrape of his stubble, made my heart race wildly. My hands clung to him, finding the solid strength of his shoulders, the warmth of his chest beneath his shirt.

He kissed me again, this time deeper, with an intensity that left no room for hesitation. His hand slid up my side, skimming over my ribs before settling at the small of my back, anchoring me to him as his lips moved against mine. Every part of me burned, the room around us disappearing into the haze of shared heat and need.

The soft sound of my name on his lips made my chest tighten. I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as if that could make the moment last forever. His touch became more insistent, his hands exploring, his lips speaking a language I understood in the way they pressed, tasted, lingered.

The space between us vanished entirely as he closed the distance, his body pressing me back against the solid edge of the desk. His hands, rough and warm, skimmed my waist before gripping it firmly, pulling me flush against him. His lips claimed mine with a hunger I hadn’t felt before—raw and all-consuming.

When he pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against mine. His fingers traced my jaw, his lips brushing over the shell of my ear as he whispered, “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to rip these clothes off of you... to see you, all of you naked”

The words sent a shiver through me, and before I could respond, he took my hand, pulling me toward the bookshelf. My back hit the sturdy wooden frame, the books rattling softly as his body caged mine. His hands moved with purpose now, sliding down my arms before settling on the buttons of my blouse.

His eyes locked on mine as he began to undo them one by one, his breath warm against my cheek. “Every time I see you in this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I have to fight myself not to do this.”

I couldn’t speak, my voice caught in my throat as his hands moved lower, pushing the fabric off my shoulders. His fingers brushed my bare skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake. My heart pounded, the air between us thick and electric.

“You’re more beautiful than I ever let myself imagine,” he said, his voice soft but strained, his gaze taking me in like I was a masterpiece he’d waited years to touch.

His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer as his lips found mine again, fiercer this time. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as his lips left mine to trail along my neck, down to my collarbone. Each kiss sent a spark racing through me, leaving me breathless and clinging to him.

“Tell me you want this,” he whispered, his voice raw against my skin. “Tell me I’m not the only one who’s been losing sleep over this.”

“You’re not,” I admitted, my voice trembling but steady with truth. “I’ve wanted this, James. I’ve wanted you.”

His lips found mine again, hungrier now, as his hands roamed over my back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. The warmth of him seeped into me, his touch igniting something deep and uncontrollable. He pushed the blouse from my shoulders completely, the fabric fluttering to the floor without a second thought.

His hands slid down to my waist, his fingers teasing the hem of my skirt. “Every time I see you in this,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of my neck, “it drives me insane.”

I gasped as he lifted me slightly, turning us so I was pressed back against the bookshelf. The cool wood against my skin was a stark contrast to the heat of his hands, which worked to slide my skirt down my hips, his movements slow and deliberate. His lips followed the path of his hands, kissing the newly exposed skin with a reverence that made my knees weak.

He leaned back, his eyes dark and filled with something primal as he took me in. “Perfect,” he whispered, almost to himself.

I reached for him then, my hands trembling but eager as I tugged at his shirt. He didn’t resist, letting me pull it over his head. My fingers traced the lines of his chest, the muscles beneath taut and warm under my touch. He watched me, his breathing uneven, as if my touch alone unraveled him.

When he leaned in again, his hands found the clasp of my bra, pausing just long enough for his gaze to meet mine. “Okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, unable to speak.

James took a deep breath, his eyes dark and filled with a mix of desire and reverence as he pulled back slightly. His hands moved to the waistband of his jeans, the motion deliberate, as if he was savoring every moment. Slowly, he undid the button and the zipper, his gaze never leaving mine.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, as if he was trying to commit every detail of this moment to memory.

He slipped his jeans down, revealing the taut muscles of his legs, his body every bit as imposing as it was graceful. I watched him, the heat between us growing stronger, more palpable with each passing second. He stood before me, bare-chested, seeming like a Greek god,  looking  with a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away. He was beautiful in a way I never could have imagined, and now that the layers between us were slowly falling away, it felt like everything was shifting, like we were moving toward something neither of us could stop.

He stepped closer, his hands running over his own chest, and I reached out, my fingers tracing the lines of his abs, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down my spine. Then I moved closer to his boxer, lowering it a bit to make his cock slliping out. 

“I want to make you feel good,” I whispered, my voice soft, but full of intent. I meant it, more than anything else. I took his cock erected and started stroking it gently, yet quick. 

His reaction was immediate. A low moan escaped his lips, the sound soft but filled with desire. I felt a surge of satisfaction at the sound, knowing that I was the one making him feel this way. His body tensed beneath my touch, every muscle drawn tight with need.

The sound of his moan—deep and unrestrained—only made me more determined to keep going, to show him just how much I wanted to give. I moved slowly, my fingers working with precision, matching the rhythm of his breathing. I could feel him reacting to each subtle movement, his body leaning into me as if urging me on.

His hands moved to my hips, pulling me closer as he kissed me, his lips urgent, but still gentle. I could taste the desperation in his kiss, the unspoken longing he didn’t have to say aloud. But his moan told me everything I needed to know. It made my chest tighten, a flutter of heat spreading through me at how badly he wanted this, wanted me.

With every stroke, I could feel him getting closer, his body trembling beneath my touch. He leaned into me, pressing his forehead against mine, his hands gripping my hips as if trying to steady himself. His breathing grew more shallow, the moans escaping him louder, more desperate now.

“You feel so good,” he breathed against my lips, his voice rough with need. “So good, Y/n.” His breath was quick and uneven, each word heavier than the last, his eyes dark with desire.

I could feel the way my own body responded to him, the fluttering in my stomach, the warmth spreading between my legs. I wanted to keep making him feel this way—wanted to see him undone by my touch. The moan that escaped his lips only encouraged me to continue, the sound echoing in my mind, and I matched the rhythm he set with my own, feeling a heat surge through me with every movement.

 There was only this moment, only the connection between us—deep, raw, and undeniable. I could feel his heartbeat under my fingertips, steady and frantic all at once. The way he moaned, his breath hitching with every motion, made me feel powerful and vulnerable at the same time.

I leaned into him, kissing him deeply, taking my time with the kiss as I felt the tension in his body grow. Every touch, every breath between us felt like it was drawing us closer, making the world outside disappear.

I kept my pace slow, letting the anticipation build, knowing how much he needed this, how much he needed me to be there with him. I could feel him trembling beneath my touch, the way his body reacted to each gentle stroke.

And then, with a shuddering breath, he moaned again, his entire body jerking slightly as he let go, his chest heaving as he finally released, the tension in him breaking. He collapsed into me, his hands gripping my shoulders for support as he tried to steady his breathing.

“Y/n,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so close...”

I held him close, my hands gently stroking him as I let him come down from the wave of pleasure. His breath was ragged, and I kissed him softly, as he came.

My body was still humming from the intense connection we'd just shared, and James, standing so close to me, his chest rising and falling with each breath, was no different. His hands remained on my body, and his gaze—those deep, smoldering eyes—told me everything I needed to know. 

His lips brushed lightly against mine once more, a kiss that was soft, lingering, and filled with unspoken emotion. His mouth parted against mine, just a breath away. “You were incredible,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, thick with desire. “You’re so much more than I imagined.”

I smiled at the sincerity in his voice, a warmth spreading through my chest. But even as he spoke, I could feel the tension building in the air again. He was looking at me like he couldn’t wait for the next moment to begin.

And I felt the same.

His fingers traced a slow path down my arm, igniting a trail of fire on my skin as he moved closer, his body aligning with mine. The gentle pressure of his chest against mine sent waves of sensation crashing through me, and I didn’t want to fight it anymore. His touch was electric, sparking something deeper, something raw between us that I couldn't quite name.

“I want to make you feel good,” he murmured, his voice deep and thick, laced with a promise. His lips brushed against my neck as he pulled me closer, his warmth enveloping me completely. The subtle movements of his hands were deliberate, slow—his fingertips grazing over my skin like he was savoring the moment, like he never wanted it to end.

I closed my eyes, giving in to the feeling of him, of his presence filling every space between us. His lips trailed soft, heated kisses along my neck, then dipped lower, his breath warm against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. My pulse raced, every inch of me aching with desire for more.

Without warning, he moved—his hands gripping my waist as he lifted me effortlessly. My legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, my hands slipping into his hair, feeling the weight of his body against mine as he turned us toward the bookshelf. The cool wood met my back with a soft thud, but I didn’t feel the coldness; I felt only the heat of him, pressing into me, his lips returning to mine in a deep, consuming kiss.

 James held me against the bookshelf. His grip on me was firm, but there was a tenderness in the way he held me, as if he were afraid to break something delicate. But there was nothing delicate about this—nothing about the fire burning between us was fragile. It was raw, powerful, and undeniable.

I gasped softly as his lips found my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Now it’s my turn to make you feel good,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire. “You’ve made me feel amazing, but now I want to make you feel everything.”

His hands trailed down my body, gently pushing me back against the bookshelf as he moved in closer, his body fitting perfectly against mine. The pressure of him, the heat radiating from his skin—it was overwhelming, intoxicating. 

You’re perfect,” he whispered, the words rough with emotion, as if he couldn’t believe this was really happening.

I closed my eyes, savoring the sound of his voice, the way he said my name like a prayer. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down my spine, and I responded instinctively, my body moving closer to his. I could feel his cock rubbing in my clit.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with desire. His lips found mine again, kissing me deeply, his tongue brushing against mine with a slow, intoxicating rhythm. I couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped from me, my hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

He deepened the kiss, sending shivers through my spine, and I felt a spark of heat ignite within me. His kiss was fire, melting away every ounce of hesitation, leaving only raw need and yearning. I couldn’t remember a time when I felt so alive, so completely attuned to another person.

He broke the kiss, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that took my breath away. “Are you sure, Y/n?” His voice was a whisper, but there was a hardness to it now, a hint of desperation. “I don’t want to push you… but I need you.”

I swallowed, my heart racing in my chest. I wasn’t sure if I could find the words, but I didn’t need to. My body was speaking for me, my hands reaching down to pull him closer, feeling the heat of his skin, the hardness of his body against mine. Every inch of me wanted him, craved him, and I could no longer pretend otherwise.

“I’m sure,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of everything we were about to share. “I want this. I want you.”

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, and without another word, he lifted me effortlessly, his hands gripping my waist as he pressed me more firmly against the bookshelf. The sudden movement took me by surprise, but the moment our bodies aligned, a shudder of anticipation ran through me. I gasped as his lips found my ear, his breath sending a wave of heat through me.

“Now it’s my turn to make you feel good,” he whispered against my skin, his voice husky with desire. “Let me show you just how much I’ve wanted this, how much I wanted to fuck you all of you”

The intensity in his voice made me weak in the knees. I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the wood of the bookshelf, and let him guide me, his hands firm but gentle as he positioned me just right. He was so close now that I could feel his breath on my neck, his lips trailing hot kisses down my skin.

I felt the pulse of heat between us grow, every second making my body ache with need. He pressed into me slowly, deeply, and I gasped at the sensation, the feeling of him filling me in a way that felt both overwhelming and perfect. I didn’t know if I could take it, but I didn’t care. Every inch of me was alive with need, and I moaned softly, feeling him shift his position just slightly to allow for a deeper connection.

“James…” I whispered, my voice barely a breath. The sound of his name on my lips felt like a confession, like a promise of everything that was happening between us.

His name escaped him in a low groan, his hands gripping my hips as he started to move against me, the rhythm slow and deliberate. He was teasing me, pushing me to the edge, and I couldn’t help the way my body reacted, how my breath hitched, how my nails dug into his shoulders.

“You feel so good, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice strained with pleasure as he kissed the sensitive skin on my neck. “I can’t get enough of you.”

The pressure between us was building, and every move he made seemed to bring us closer to the edge. His hands moved to my chest, caressing my breasts with a tenderness that made me shiver. He pinched my nipple softly, and I moaned, arching into him, wanting more.

He kissed me again, his lips hungry, desperate. I felt the way he kissed me, not just with passion, but with a deep, aching need, as though he couldn’t get enough of me, couldn’t stop himself. I let myself melt into him, responding to each touch, each kiss, each movement as if my body had a mind of its own.

His rhythm grew more urgent, and with each thrust, I felt myself getting closer to the edge, the tension in my body so tight I thought I might snap. My moans grew louder, more desperate, matching the frantic pace he set, until finally, with one deep, almost desperate thrust, I felt myself breaking apart, my body trembling as I found release.

“J-James, I’m cumming” "I moaned softly, my body trembling from the intensity of his thrusters.

“Cum for me,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire, his hands holding me closer as the tension between us reached its peak. “Let me know how much you want this.”

His name spilled from my lips again, a breathless cry, and the sound of it seemed to push him over the edge. I felt him tense, his body shuddering against mine as he followed me, his deep groan echoing in my ear. We both froze for a moment, suspended in the aftermath, the air thick with our combined breaths.

We stayed like that, locked in each other's arms, unable to let go of the connection we had created. James pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me, his breath coming in soft pants against my ear. I could hear the steady beat of his heart, and I rested my head against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine.

As we stood there, our bodies still entwined, the world outside the small office seemed to fade away. The only sounds were our ragged breathing, slowly starting to calm. My chest rose and fell against his, and I could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. The air between us was heavy, but now it felt different—more peaceful, more grounded.

James pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me like a protective cocoon. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, allowing the quiet to settle over us. We didn’t speak for a long time, and I didn’t mind. It felt good to just be in this moment, to be connected to him in a way I hadn’t ever expected.

Finally, James spoke, his voice low and thoughtful. “You okay?” he asked, his hand gently stroking my hair, as though making sure I was still with him, still here.

I nodded, lifting my head to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of desire and something softer, something I hadn’t expected to see. “Yeah… more than okay,” I whispered, smiling up at him, my heart still racing in the aftermath of everything that had just happened. But as the excitement ebbed away, a quiet realization began to settle in.

There was still so much we hadn’t said, so much unspoken. The weight of the situation was slowly sinking in. James was married. That fact hadn’t disappeared in the heat of the moment, and now that things were calm, I felt the tug of uncertainty.

I hesitated for a moment before speaking. “James…” My voice was soft, unsure. “What about your wife? What does this mean?”

He paused, his fingers gently brushing my cheek as he considered his words. His brow furrowed slightly, and for the first time since we’d come together, there was a moment of vulnerability in his expression. He took a breath, clearly weighing the truth before responding.

“Things aren’t... what they seem," he said slowly, his voice quieter than before. "It’s complicated, Y/n. I’m not... I’m not happy in my marriage. I haven’t been for a long time.” He swallowed hard, his eyes not leaving mine as if searching for some sign that I understood. “I never meant for this to happen with you, but I can’t deny what I feel. What we’ve shared... it feels real. More real than anything else right now.”

I felt the weight of his words, a mixture of relief and sadness swelling inside me. My heart ached for him, for the situation he found himself in. I wanted to ask more questions, to understand the full depth of what he was going through, but instead, I found myself in his arms, my face pressed against his chest once again, trying to hold onto the feeling of being close to him.

“So, what does this mean?” I asked, my voice a little shaky, but I needed to know. "What do we do now?"

He exhaled deeply, running his hand through his hair, looking away for a moment before meeting my gaze again. There was something intense in his eyes, something that told me this wasn’t just a fleeting moment for him.

“I don’t know what the future holds, Y/n,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “But I know that right now, I don’t want to let go of this. I don’t want to let go of you.” He looked down at me, his expression full of raw emotion. “If you wanted to stay… I wouldn’t stop you.”

The offer hung in the air between us, and I could feel the weight of it. It wasn’t just about the physical connection we’d shared—it was about something deeper, something more fragile.

“I’m not asking you to leave her,” I said quietly, my heart aching. “But what happens now? What do we do with what we’ve just… what we’ve just done?”

James gently lifted my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. His touch was tender, almost apologetic, as if he were afraid of the emotions he might be stirring. “I don’t want to complicate things for you, Y/n. But I can’t pretend that this doesn’t mean something to me.”

His words lingered in the space between us, and I could feel the shift—the weight of our shared desire, and the vulnerability that came with it. He wasn’t asking me for anything. He wasn’t rushing into anything. But the offer, the possibility, was there, hanging in the quiet.

“I think we need time,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. "We both do."

James nodded slowly, his lips brushing against my forehead in a soft kiss. “Yeah, time,” he echoed, his hand still holding me close. “But I’m not going anywhere, Y/n. Not if you don’t want me to.”

I closed my eyes, letting the quiet settle between us, and for a moment, there was no pressure, no confusion—just the two of us, holding onto something fleeting, yet real.

“I don’t want you to go either,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, but sincere.

And for a moment, we simply stood there, lost in the warmth of each other’s arms, our hearts beating as one, unsure of what tomorrow would bring, but certain of this—this connection, this moment, was something we both wanted to hold on to.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

How’s Dating James Hetfield?

How you met?

★You met James at a backstage party after one of Metallica’s concerts. You were hanging out with mutual friends, and you didn't even realize who he was at first. He struck you as approachable and down-to-earth, someone who didn’t carry the usual “rockstar” arrogance. You talked about your shared love for music, and when you mentioned your love for the classics, his eyes lit up. There was an instant connection.

First impression

★His first impression might make you think he’s reserved, maybe even a bit distant, but in reality, he's just more of a gentle soul than anyone expects. You’re not just another fan to him; you’re someone he genuinely wants to get to know. His warm smile catches you off guard—it’s genuine, not forced. There's no arrogance in his manner, just the kind of humility you don't expect from someone who's performed in front of millions.

Despite being one of the biggest rockstars in the world, James somehow feels approachable and real. His presence is calming, not overwhelming. You quickly realize that what makes him stand out the most isn’t the fame, but his ability to make you feel like the most important person in the room.

First confession of feelings

★One quiet night, as you were driving together, James opened up. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed, his voice soft. You felt the same, and it was clear that this connection wasn’t just physical—it was emotional too.

What James loves about you?

★ James loves that you see beyond his rockstar persona. He appreciates that you’re not intimidated by his fame, and you never treat him differently because of it. You’re genuine and have this calm presence that balances out his intensity. He loves your sense of humor, especially when you can make him laugh during tough days, and how you always know when he needs space to recharge but also when he needs affection.

What makes him happy?

★Seeing you genuinely happy is what makes him the happiest. Whether it’s watching you perform a small act of kindness for someone else or catching you lost in a moment of joy, it fills him with warmth. And when you’re with him, you make him feel like everything in the world is right. He loves making you laugh, and nothing makes him happier than seeing you smile.

What he loves when you do something for him?

★James isn’t someone who asks for much. But when you surprise him with something thoughtful—like cooking his favorite meal after a tough day, or taking care of him when he’s under the weather—he becomes incredibly soft and appreciative. The way you make the effort to look out for him melts his heart, and he can’t help but adore you more for it. When you show up at his concerts to surprise him, or when you pick out something you know he’ll love, it makes him feel deeply cherished.

Pet names

★James isn’t one for cheesy pet names, but he has a few sweet ones for you. He might call you “love or babe" in a deep, gravelly voice when he’s feeling affectionate. When he’s being playful, he might say something like “hottie” or “princess” But it’s the way he says them—soft, almost like a secret between you two—that makes it special. And when he’s feeling particularly romantic, he’ll call you “my love.”

Would he teach you play the guitar?

★Absolutely! James would love to share his passion for music with you. He’d patiently teach you basic chords at first, encouraging you even when you struggled. He would make it fun, cracking jokes to keep the atmosphere lighthearted, and showing you how to play some of his favorite Metallica riffs. When you finally nail a tricky part, he’d beam with pride, and you’d know he was more than just teaching you an instrument—he was sharing a part of his soul.

Singing to you when you're sad

★James is surprisingly in tune with your emotions. When he notices you’re feeling down, he’ll do everything in his power to cheer you up. One of the things he might do is quietly pick up his guitar and play a soft acoustic version of one of his songs, singing to you in a voice that’s comforting and intimate. Sometimes, he’ll just sit with you, humming along to the melody, or even singing a completely random song to make you laugh. His way of making you feel safe and loved through music is one of his most touching traits.

Shower together

★When you’re both exhausted after a long day or tour, James loves the idea of unwinding together in the shower. It’s both funny and intimate—he’ll make you laugh as he tries to avoid getting soap in his eyes, and you’ll both jokingly fight over who’s taking up more space. But it’s also a moment of closeness. James will run his fingers through your hair, wash your back for you, and even steal a kiss here and there. It’s a simple, yet profoundly intimate moment of connection.

Sleeping together

★James has a surprisingly soft side when it comes to sleeping. He’s not overly clingy, but he loves being close to you. On most nights, he’ll be the little spoon, enjoying the comfort of your warmth. He’ll bury his face in your neck and often fall asleep to the sound of your heartbeat. But there are times when he wants to protect you, and you’ll find him being the big spoon, holding you close as you both drift off to sleep. Either way, he always makes sure you’re comfortable, often tucking you in and making sure you have everything you need before settling in.

How he reacts when you're sad

★When you're upset, James is an emotional rock. He won’t try to fix everything right away, but he’ll listen to you talk about what’s bothering you. He knows when to give you space and when to comfort you with a simple touch. If you’re crying, he’ll pull you into his arms, rub your back gently, and quietly reassure you that everything will be okay. His deep voice murmurs things like, “I’ve got you” or “You don’t have to carry this alone.” He’s the kind of partner who doesn’t just want to help you get better—he wants to help you heal.

When you're sick (and when he's sick)

★When you’re sick, James becomes incredibly protective. He’s the type to make you soup, get you medicine, and stay by your side to make sure you’re comfortable. He may grumble about how much he hates seeing you unwell, but deep down, he’s genuinely concerned. He’ll even skip band rehearsals or cancel plans to stay home and take care of you. If he’s sick, though, he’s way clingier. He’ll want you around all the time, asking for cuddles, extra attention, and comfort. When he’s not feeling his best, he just wants you close, and he’ll complain about everything—from his stuffy nose to his sore throat, but he’ll also be extra sweet, asking for your company more than usual.

Is he protective about you?

★ Absolutely! Though James Hetfield may appear tough or intimidating on stage, in reality, he's deeply protective in every sense when it comes to someone he loves. He’ll always make sure you feel emotionally safe, listening intently when you need to talk, offering comfort when you’re upset, and stepping in quickly if anyone disrespects or hurts you. He’s physically protective too, guiding you through crowded spaces, keeping an eye out for potential threats, and making sure you're never in a situation that feels unsafe. Whether it’s standing up for you or just quietly being your shield in stressful moments, he’ll always have your back.  His protectiveness isn’t just about grand gestures—it’s in the little things, like holding your hand, checking in on you, and making sure you're okay. With James, you always know that you’re safe, cherished, and never alone, no matter what the world throws at you.

In bed

★James is passionate and tender. During intimacy, he’s not just about the physical connection but also the emotional one. He checks in with you during and after, making sure you’re comfortable and feeling good. “How are you feeling?” he’ll ask softly, always making sure you’re enjoying every moment.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

I had this cute idea and I wanted to write it down, hope you like it!❤

Endless Affection

The sound of the door opening always makes my heart skip a beat. It’s like the whole world pauses, waiting for him to walk in. I barely hear the shuffle of his boots before I’m already moving, practically bouncing as I rush toward the entryway.

“James!” I call out, grinning as his familiar figure comes into view. He’s still halfway through shrugging off his bag when he looks up, his face lighting up as soon as he sees me.

“Babe,” he says softly, his voice carrying that warmth I’ve missed all day. Before he can say anything else, I throw my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. He chuckles, his arms closing around me instantly.

“Miss me much?” he teases, his voice muffled against my hair.

“You know I did,” I mumble, hugging him tighter.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his hazel eyes full of that familiar sparkle. “You know,” he says, his lips twitching into a smile, “this? Right here? This is the best part of my day.”

“Is it now?” I tease, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Absolutely,” he says, his voice soft but firm. He suddenly steps back, spreading his arms wide. “Come on, Babe. Want another hug?”

I laugh, rolling my eyes, but before I can respond, he swoops in and picks me up, spinning me around like we’re in the middle of some romantic movie. “James!” I squeal, clinging to him even though I can’t stop laughing.

When he sets me down, his grin is boyish and proud. “See? Can’t beat that,” he says, leaning in to press a quick, playful kiss to my nose.

I shake my head, smiling like a fool. It’s always like this when he comes home—full of warmth and these little rituals that make me feel like the luckiest person in the world.

As he gets ready to head back out for work, I find myself following him like always, lingering at his side. He’s tugging his coat on, and I can’t resist stepping in to help. I smooth the fabric over his shoulders, fixing the collar with the precision of someone who has done this a hundred times.

“There,” I say, tilting my head as I give him a quick once-over “Perfect.”

“Thanks, Babe,” he says, his lips quivering into a soft smile. But I’m not done. I lean up on my toes, brushing a quick kiss against his cheek before pulling back just enough to reach for his hair. My fingers ruffle it lightly, and I can’t help but giggle at the way he scrunches his nose.

“Hey!” he protests, his voice full of mock indignation. “Not the hair!”

I shrug, grinning mischievously. “Oh, come on. You love it when I do it.”

He tries to hold back a smile but fails miserably, shaking his head with a soft laugh. “Maybe,” he admits, his hazel eyes twinkling. “But don’t push your luck.”

He rolls his eyes playfully but doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to my forehead.

“Have a nice day at work,” I whisper, my voice soft but full of meaning.

“Thanks, Babe.” His voice is just as gentle, and I feel a little ache in my chest watching him grab his bag and step out the door. The sound of it clicking shut behind him leaves the house feeling too quiet.

But, like always, I can’t help myself. Before I know it, I’m slipping on my slippers and stepping outside. He’s already halfway to his car when he turns back, his eyes finding mine almost instantly.

When he sees me, he stops in his tracks, his lips curving into that heart-melting smile of his. “Babe,” he calls out, shaking his head fondly.

“What?” I ask, grinning as I step closer.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he jogs back to me, his steps quick and purposeful. Before I can say anything else, he’s cupping my face in his hands and kissing me like he’s been waiting all day for it.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against mine. “You don’t have to wait for me like this, you know,” he says softly, his voice full of that teasing affection he does so well.

“I know,” I say, blushing a little. “But I want to. I like seeing you off.”

He stares at me for a moment, his hands sliding down to rest gently on my shoulders. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmurs. His words make my chest flutter, and I can’t help but smile.

I tilt my head, giving him a soft smile. “You’re so sweet.”

“No, I mean it,” he insists, his hazel eyes locking onto mine. “If I could, I’d stay here with you all the time. I wouldn’t leave—ever.” His voice carries a quiet sincerity that makes my chest flutter.

For a moment, I just stare at him, caught in the intensity of his words. Then a playful idea sparks in my mind. “Well,” I say, my smile turning sly, “how about tonight? We could stay in, cuddle up together... all night long.”

His face softens, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Babe, that’s a perfect idea,” he says, leaning in to press a tender kiss to my lips. “I can’t wait to cuddle you, and maybe… we can do something else” he adds with a playful wink.

“James!” I gasp, my face flushing bright red. “You—”

 I swat at his arms, but then, in mock exasperation, I add, “You’re unbelievable!”

He chuckles, holding up his hands in mock defense. “Hey, I was just offering a suggestion!” he says, still laughing. “You know I can’t resist you.”

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms with a dramatic sigh. “You’re impossible,” I tease, my voice filled with mock frustration. “I can’t believe you’re the one who’s always pushing things too far.”

James grins, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, really? So you don’t want to cuddle me tonight, then?”

I pause, pretending to consider it for a moment, tapping my chin dramatically. “Hmm, well... maybe just a little cuddling. But only because you’re so irresistible.”

He leans in, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, lingering kiss. “Lucky for you, I’m always irresistible,” he whispers with a wink.

“Yeah, yeah,” I laugh, swatting his shoulder lightly. “Keep telling yourself that.” I shake my head, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably as I feel my cheeks warm from the playful teasing.

James pulls me into his arms, holding me tight. “You know you love me,” he says, his voice playful but sincere.

“I do,” I admit, resting my head against his chest. “But don’t get too cocky, okay?”

“Oh, I can’t help it,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “You’re the one who loves me this much.”

I roll my eyes again, though it’s hard to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “You’re lucky I do, James.

He steals one more kiss before pulling away, and this time, I’m the one giving him a little push toward his car. “Now go,” I laugh. “You’re going to be late!”

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. But as he walks away, he throws me one last glance over his shoulder.

With a cheeky grin, he pretends to blow me a kiss.

 And don’t forget,” he says, blowing me a kiss. “I’ll be thinking of you.”

I catch the kiss with both hands and blow it right back to him. “Hurry up, or you’ll  be late” I tease, though my heart is already counting down the hours until he’s back home.

He laughs too, shaking his head as he finally climbs into the car. As he pulls away, I watch until his car disappears down the road, my heart feeling full and light all at once.

I already can’t wait for tonight.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

/Introductory post/

Hello, I'm Nausicaa and I’m a recent fanfiction writer on Wattpad. But I decided to publish here on Tumblr.

My first language is not English, so if I make any mistakes please correct me!

If you have any requests, feel free for ask anything!

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Masterlist❤ Metallica

-James Hetfield-

The night we fell in love

Her smiling remedy

Tears and rain

Eyes of an angel, cold heart as ice

Notes from mon coeur

A night at the bar

One more chance

After the storm

A nerd's heart in a rock star's world

A New Beginning

Beyond the darkness

Finding our way back

Criminal love

Sweet obsession

Come back

Always you

Rewrite the past

You're still the one

Love reclaimed

Husband material? Ask the cheerleader!

Burning desire Burning desire pt2

Behind the rockstar

Too hot to handle

Fix us

Under the Shower's Touch

Just trust me, you'll be fine

Hurtful Word

Reckless love

Wrapped in love

Just the way you are

Healing touch

Playing with fire

Ink to ink

Two birds

Endless Affection

Breaking Through

Craving the forbidden

Where did you sleep last night? pt2 pt3

How's dating James Hetfield?

Decorating with Metallica: Chaos ensues

The wind rises

Burning winter

Lost in her touch

Back to December

-Kirk Hammett-

Horror movie night

A carnival of sweet surprises

Dancing in the kitchen

Disaster Chefs

Heaven beside you

Dancing with the waves

Bound in love

Lights, camera, love

Edge of desire

Safe in his arms

My immortal

Love and snowball fights

Just us two

A night among the stars

Trusting him

-Lars Ulrich-

A romantic dinner...with "some" unexpected events

Drunk N' Love

A rewritten love

Goodbye, my first love

She's gone

Held in desire

-Jason Newsted-

A cat, a record, and a kiss

Sick in his arms

When the rain fell

Blanket buddies

Backstage Temptation

More than anyone

The reason I stay

In the shadows of desire

Soundcheck crush

Soundcheck confessions

Moans in the dark

Whispers of the forest

-Cliff Burton-

Picture of us

Tea party

A song for you

Hugs and Warmth

-Dave Mustaine-

Lost in the moment

Backstage temptation

Laundry room secrets

His mistress

Tangled up in trouble

Guns 'N' Roses

-Slash-

More than a hot body

Alice in chains

-Jerry cantrell-

Wicked game