#lars how long does your arm go

[peridotite]

imagine

[broidobe]

𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔡𝔦𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔱

requested!

☾2000s dave starts showing up at metallica’s studio just to stake his claim when his much-younger girlfriend lands a gig producing for the band—and he’s not subtle about it☽

☾warnings: age gap (reader early 20s / dave is 40s), possessive!dom dave, public-ish sex (semi-private studio hallway), oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, marking, rough language, dirty talk, a lil praise, jealousy, heavy tension, soft aftercare at the end, possessive behavior, slight confrontation, dirty talk, public-ish pda☽

𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 ᡣ𐭩 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝐼: 𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼 𝜗𝜚 𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓪 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓮

⁎⁺˳✧༚megadeth masterlist

you weren’t even sure how you ended up here—maybe a mix of stubborn ambition, a stacked resume, and being at the right damn place at the right damn time. producing metallica’s new record had sounded insane when you first got the call, but here you were, headphones around your neck and notes scribbled across half a dozen coffee-stained notepads.

what you didn’t expect was your boyfriend turning it into a territorial pissing contest.

“baby,” came a low drawl behind you, like clockwork, “brought you coffee.”

you turned from the soundboard and grinned as dave mustaine strolled in like he owned the place, a to-go cup in each hand, his signature smug tilt to his mouth. he leaned in to kiss your cheek—no, your mouth—a little too long, a little too firm, like a silent message for anyone watching.

“you really don’t have to come by every day,” you mumbled against his lips, though you weren’t complaining. the coffee was good. the possessive kisses were better.

“sure i do,” he said casually, eyes flicking toward the glass wall behind you—where, right on cue, james hetfield and lars ulrich were setting up for another session.

james’s gaze lingered. again.

dave’s arm slid around your waist, tugging you close enough that your back hit his chest. “can’t have certain people thinking they’ve got a shot.”

you swallowed. “james’s harmless.”

dave scoffed, low and bitter. “yeah, right. harmless like a viper.”

the worst part was… you had noticed the way james watched you sometimes. a little too long. a little too curious. you weren’t stupid, and neither was dave. and when you and james laughed at some stupid inside joke the day before, dave had gone very quiet on the car ride home.

so when he caught james looking again—again—during a playback session, dave didn’t even pretend to play nice.

“hey het,” he said sharply, catching the man mid-smirk. “you like the way she mixes your vocals, huh?”

james arched a brow. “she’s good at what she does.”

“yeah,” dave drawled, eyes narrowing. “real good with her mouth.”

your face burned. james blinked. lars choked on his water somewhere in the back.

dave didn’t even look at you as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then your neck, then tugged the collar of your shirt down just enough to show the fresh bruise forming near your clavicle.

“mine,” he muttered, not even subtle.

you barely made it out of the booth before dave had you pinned against the wall of the corridor, lips rough, tongue insistent, fingers sliding under your shirt like he had to remind you who you belonged to.

“he wants you,” dave growled into your ear, teeth grazing the lobe. “but he doesn’t get to have you. i do. you understand me, baby?”

you nodded, breathless. “yes, dave.”

his fingers curled around your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. “say it.”

“i’m yours.”

he kissed you then—hard, messy, claiming—and you swore if james turned the corner right now, he’d see a very smug dave with his hand already between your thighs.

“good girl,” he whispered, voice like gravel. “now let’s give ‘em something to really stare at.”

your back hit the wall of the narrow hallway, cool concrete seeping through your thin shirt. dave’s mouth was on your neck before you could breathe, lips dragging hot and hungry against your skin.

“can’t fuckin’ stand the way he looks at you,” dave growled, biting just hard enough to make your breath catch. “like he thinks he’s got a chance.”

“he doesn’t,” you gasped, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other fisting the front of his leather jacket. “i don’t want him. i want you.”

that seemed to crack something open in him.

his thigh shoved between your legs. his hand cupped your jaw, forcing your eyes to lock with his. “say it again.”

“i want you, dave.”

he groaned, like the words physically affected him. “fuck, you’re so perfect when you say my name like that.”

his fingers found your waistband, yanking your pants down just enough to expose your thighs. you whimpered as cool air hit your skin—but the second you felt his fingers stroke over your underwear, dragging over the growing wet spot, heat bloomed in your stomach.

“so wet for me already,” dave muttered with a smug smirk, pressing a kiss to your temple. “bet you got this soaked the second i walked in, huh?”

you nodded, breath hitching. “always do.”

he groaned again, voice wrecked. “goddamn baby…”

without another word, he dropped to his knees.

you let out a stunned gasp as his hands gripped your thighs and yanked your underwear down, tossing them somewhere behind him. then his mouth was on you—hot, relentless, worshipful.

he devoured you like a man possessed, tongue sliding between your folds, nose pressed right up against your clit. his hands held your thighs open like a vice, keeping you spread as his tongue worked you over, teasing, licking, sucking like he had something to prove.

and maybe he did.

“y’taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he groaned, voice muffled by your pussy. “gonna make you come right here… let him hear it. let him fuckin’ know who gets you like this.”

your knees nearly buckled.

you whined, hands scrambling for purchase in his hair, tugging the thick red strands as he sucked hard on your clit—harder, faster, just the way you liked it. the obscene noises echoed down the hallway. he didn’t care. you didn’t care.

your moan cracked in the back of your throat as your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, thighs shaking, body twitching, hips trying to jerk away from the intensity—

but dave didn’t let you.

he growled low, wrapping his arms tighter around your thighs, keeping you in place as he kept licking, tongue fucking into you like he was trying to milk every drop of your climax. and when your voice cracked with a sob, legs trembling from the overstimulation—

then he slowed down. just enough to let you breathe.

his mouth was slick, lips shiny, and his voice was all gravel and heat when he finally stood back up, towering over you.

“how’s that for a fuckin’ sound check?”

you giggled breathlessly, still floating. “you’re insane.”

“nah,” he muttered, nipping your lip. “just crazy about you.”

he reached down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then leaned in and kissed you deep—letting you taste yourself on his tongue. his hands gently cupped your face now, thumbs stroking over your cheeks like he hadn’t just eaten you out against a studio wall.

“you okay?” he murmured, forehead pressed to yours. “too much?”

you shook your head, still dazed. “no… i’m okay. really good. just—fuck, dave.”

he smirked again, cocky and completely in love. “next time he looks at you like that, i’ll make you moan louder.”

you swatted his chest, but your cheeks were burning.

“now c’mon,” he said, pulling your pants back up gently, helping you stand. “let’s get you some water before they really hear how good you sound.”

[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”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[sourbites]

METALLICA MASTERLIST

hope u find something u like <3

KIRK HAMMETT:

Cottonmouth — Drug-fuelled, sloppy hotel sex.

"It's still a good night," Kirk hums to you. "Which means what? You want to keep going?" You test, looking up at him through your thick eyelashes. The daze of a coke-fuelled evening makes everything slow down and speed up at the same time. His plump lips capture yours, sloppy and wet kisses making your mouth tingle, migrating down your chin, teeth clashing as you swallow each other’s doped-up laughs.

Can't Tell You Why — Your friend Kirk dazzles you with how your first time should've went.

"Right." You sigh. Smoke billows from your parted lips. "I suppose you have? Done it right?" You're not sure why you ask that. You just want something to say. Preferably not about your (totally lacking) sex life. Kirk watches you for a moment or two, concluding you won't let this go. "But," He echoes, nudging you back. "I wouldn't say I've done it right." "Ideally," He shifts again, wanting to reshuffle his atoms. "Ideally, it'd be a bed..." A warm palm brushes your wrist and sneaks the joint from your fingers. "With you..." Your heart pauses. You stare at him, bewildered. "And me..."

Licking Wounds — Nothing says "cheer up" like drunk sex with the man you almost hate most.

In the corner of your eye, before everything that isn't your spotlight on Kirk fades away, the cheap neon sign lights bleed into the puddles on the pavement. "You want to make him jealous?" Kirk noses into your ear, skirting his fingertips around your hips restlessly. You know what he's alluding to. Does it always have to be about him? Why can't this just be for you? Cementing yourself to the moment, you rest your arms on Kirk's shoulders and lock them together, letting his worn-smooth leather jacket meld into your skin. "No. I just want to feel good." Satisfied, Kirk purrs, "I can do that," into the shell of your ear— before kissing the cartilage and grabbing an eager fistful of your ass.

JAMES HETFIELD:

What Remains After Fury — Needy James takes you backstage while on the clock for an encore.

"Fuck it," You hear him murmur lowly. "You wanna take your break right now?" You wring your hands in excited nervousness, despite finding yourself nodding. "We shouldn't take too long, though." You remind. The clock's still ticking, and there's a mass of fans preparing for an encore, crowding around the stage restlessly. "Don't you fuckin' worry about that," James' hand is already rushing you into some emptied-out storage room, hot on your heels himself.

Wildsun — James loves adopting strays. This time, it's you. When you're in desperate need of a change, you find your place on a grumpy cowboy's ranch.

"Wow," You're stupefied, head fogged with the smell and the heat of him. "That's one way to thank me." James chuckles, his mouth brushing against your temple, unwilling to truly part so soon. You've never seen him - or any man, really - wear happiness this way before. "Easy, Darlin', don't swoon too hard." Your fists curl around the collar of his shirt, your back arching felinely as you tiptoe up to reach him since he's not helping you by swooping down like last time. Last time, your heart trembles. Last time, when you kissed him. "Don't backtrack now, Cowboy."

Honeymoon Headcannons with James

LARS ULRICH:

Bruise — Nothing a hate-fuck can't fix when it comes to creative differences, right?

"You want me to give you something real? Fine. Just don't fucking ruin it this time." He rasps, huffing, his tone biting. At full tilt, Lars bee-lines into you, half dragging you into him and half scuffling his shoes on the floor to meet you. He rips you through the air towards him by your wrists. If your head wasn't spinning, maybe you'd realise that his hands tremble around you, his mouth watering. Your lips smack together, matching in a twistedly tender overlap of his top lip between yours, your bottom lip between his. Your hands fist into the collar of his dumb shirt, one of those ones where the neckline's gone in some botched DIY job. His nose bumps yours, teeth clashing in your mouth, and you find yourself allowing the kiss, letting your eyes close. Although he still makes you steam with rage.

JASON NEWSTED:

Whiskey and Coke — All roads that begin with cosying up to Jason will inevitably lead to sex.

He watches you. Adjusts his pockets. "How'd you feel about cheering me up?" His fingertips brush against the edge of your jawline. "Can I kiss you?" His breath ghosts across your face, sweetening the air around you into something so hot you physically feel yourself melt. With a brave inhale, you tip your weight forward. Both Jason's hands hook around the small of your back; your hands slide up, rounding out around his shoulders. It feels a little clumsy with the alcohol, a little intimate with nothing but the sounds of soft, hitching breaths in anticipation. The first thing you notice is that he's tense. And so warm that it feels as if he envelops you.

[foxaftershocks]

HEAR ME OUT!! Lars with a reader, who was a ghost but somehow got their life back. Because of that, reader is pretty much forced to be in the lab 24/7 (much to their disdain) with Lars running tests on them. Enemies to lovers 🫶

(Also, you're like the best author ever on here.)

Clearly I really liked this prompt because I wrote a lot for it. Like, seriously, this is so long. I hope you like it as much as I do.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Lars growled under his breath, pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. Sitting on the able, feet kicking backwards and forwards, you were grinning at him with such smugness it made his blood boil. He knew how to do his job without the input of a woman who knew nothing about parapsychology. You weren’t a scientist. You were just some girl who happened to come back to life. Nothing special.

“Still wrong,” you sung.

His fingers tightened around your arm, holding you still. He tightened the band around your bicep, pressing the electrodes against your chest with more force than was necessary. You muttered something just outside of his hearing, most likely a curse word. Your swearing was not something he was unfamiliar with. It had been resounding through the lab for weeks now.

“Just sit still,” he ordered, returning to his equipment.

You wiggled right up until the point he turned the machine on, probably trying to make a point. If you were, he missed it through disinterest. He watched the output on the machine, your heartbeat strong and steady. No blips, nothing to suggest you’d once been a ghost.

“Anything?” you asked.

He pressed his lips together. You could never just sit in silence, continually talking in his ear, playing with his stuff. Your presence was was unending. You had been made to live in the lab while they worked out how you’d come back, and as someone who basically lived in the lab himself, you had seemed to designate him as your favourite form of entertainment. You needled him. He knew it. And yet he kept letting you get under his skin.

“Not if you keep talking,” he said.

He got up, moving closer to readjust a few of the monitors. Returning back to the readout, there was a spike in your heart rate before it calmed down again. Interesting. Glancing up, you were glaring at him, seemingly not feeling the exertion you were showing.

“Feeling alright?” he asked.

“Aw, you do care,” you said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Just answer the question,” he said.

“I feel fine,” you replied.

He watched you for another moment. Your head tipped up, looking to the ceiling as your feet continued to kick. You did seem fine. He had to trust you on that.

He hated not having answers.

You floated away on soft footsteps when he released you from his tests. You didn’t even bother saying goodbye and he knew it’s because he’d be seeing you later. You never seemed able to stop yourself from interrupting his day.

Looking back over the readouts the only thing that jumped out at him was the elevation in heart rate for a few minutes. Nothing else suggested anything had happened. He stared at it, trying to piece together what was going on. And yet it still wasn’t outside the bounds of normal mortal hearts.

Nothing indicated how you’d come back from being a ghost. Every test bringing up nothing. If he was a religious man, he would have said it was God playing a cosmic practical joke on him, sending him the one person who drove him crazy.

“If you never find anything am I forced to stay here until I become a ghost again?” you asked, appearing out of nowhere, whispering in his ear.

Perhaps you’d brought some things back with you when you’d become corporeal again. Silent as the wind, able to sneak up on him, your laughter echoing long after you were gone. It was eery and yet nothing indicated you were anything but a healthy human.

“You’ll stay here as long as necessary,” he replied, refusing to give you more.

“At what point does this become kidnapping?” you mused, hauling yourself up onto the bench in front of him.

Your feet kicked again, your toes brushing against his thigh. He froze, the feeling lingering before you did it again. He caught you, fingers circling your ankle. Your eyes found his, lips curling up into a slight smile. He stared back, caught in a bubble of time where everything stopped. Breath held and body frozen, the warmth of your soft skin against his making his head spin.

“Don’t tempt me to tie you up,” he murmured.

“Pretty kinky, Pinfield,” you said, voice soft and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were sharing a joke with him, “who knew you had it in you.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

Your eyes lit up and he had to fight against the impulse to find out every single way he could make it happen again. There was something about it, the way it felt like a constant battle of wits with you. It was intoxicating.

He shoved your foot away, coming back to himself. You drew back from where you’d been leaning closer to him and he turned away, ignoring you as he tried to get on with work. From his peripheral vision he saw you slide back to the ground, a huffed laugh coming from you as you slipped away.

He lost track of you again, hours going by until the sun had gone down. A bed had been set up in what had once been a junk room for you to sleep in, the veneer of privacy all the lab could offer you. For months you’d been living there, under observation, in case something changed. There was no explanation for how you’d come back from your stint as a ghost. Nothing paranormal going on anymore.

You were a mystery he was determined to solve.

A bowl of noodles was slid in front of him. Looking up, he found you taking a seat across from him, your own bowl steaming in front of you. He looked down into it, his glasses steaming up with the condensation. He huffed, taking them off to wipe them clean. The expression on your face when he put them on again wasn’t one he’d seen before.

“What’s this?” he asked, nudging the bowl you’d placed in front of him.

“Ramen,” you replied, “only the instant stuff from the kitchen but it’s better than nothing.”

He sniffed, pursing his lips at you.

“It’s not poisoned,” you said.

Your chopsticks dipped into your own bowl, pulling noodles into your mouth. He watched you for a moment, before sighing, the rumble of his stomach enough to urge him on. If it was poisoned they’d find his body in the morning and be hunting you down.

“Is there a reason you stay so late every night?” you asked, “I know you’re not doing it to keep me company.”

“I have a lot of work to do,” he replied, surprised you’d asked.

“You sleep here sometimes,” you said, an offhand observation as you shovelled more noodles in your mouth.

“You always sleep here,” he replied.

“Not by choice,” you muttered, chopsticks stabbing down.

“Do you really hate it here so much?” he asked.

“Pinfield, you’ve made me a prisoner. I can’t leave without supervision. I can’t go home. You haven’t even let me contact my friends and family. You try being happy under those circumstances,” you said, levelling a glare at him.

“But you got a second chance,” he said, not hiding his frustration, “you came back. No one else has ever gotten that.”

“That you know of,” you said, almost in a sing song voice.

He paused for a moment. It’s true, someone else could have returned from ghosthood without being documented. It took long enough for people to even accept the existence of the paranormal. Documented cases were a mixed bag of those with scientific merit and those without.

“Can I expect to see you at breakfast?” you asked, “I have strawberry poptarts.”

“You’re mad if you think those are better than the brown sugar cinnamon ones,” he said.

“I have to assume this wrong opinion is because you’re not from here,” you said, sounding deadly serious.

“I’ve done the research. I have the data. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable but the science speaks for itself,” he said, adjusting his glasses.

“Well, you can keep your pseudoscience and your bad taste to yourself. You’re not invited to breakfast anymore,” you said, sniffing.

The spike of irritation cut through the playful atmosphere. That word, pseudoscience, it was the exact thing to raise his hackles. He would never engage in such stupidity. To be reduced to such a word had his blood boiling.

But then he looked up and saw the way you were smiling into your ramen, eyes darting up to him, the twinkle obvious. The irritation melted away upon the realisation that you were poking fun at him. That you were joking. That you were purposefully trying to get under his skin. And you knew him well enough to do it with ease. He’d fallen right into your trap.

A spark of electricity ran through his veins at the realisation.

“Don’t work too hard, nerd,” you said, hopping off your stool, taking the empty bowl away from in front of him.

He watched you walk away, many things going on in his head. Mostly, surprise that it had been pleasant having dinner with you. That spark of playfulness made him want to follow you and that didn’t sit right with him.

Accepting that, he decided to head home, the night over for him. There was no chance he was going to be able to finish his work. Not when he knew you could be lurking in the shadows around him.

The next morning he found you sitting in front of the possessor’s enclosure, seeming to play with it from behind the plexiglass. One of those cursed poptarts was dangling from one hand, half eaten as your focus was completely on the ghost in front of you. He let himself watch you, knowing he wasn’t being watched in return. Your smile was bright, your laugh genuine, eyes sparkling as you played. It struck him that you’d never looked at him that way.

“Please tell me you’re not trying to convert the possessor to your inferior flavour of poptarts,” he said.

You looked up, the smile slipping from your face. With a grace he knew he would never had, you rose from your crossed legged position, looking at him with a scowl. Approaching, he found his eyes resting on the bit of icing clinging to the corner of your lips. Without much thought, he reached up, thumb brushing it free. You blinked, mouth falling open. He cursed inwardly, not sure what to make of his own actions.

“More tests today,” he said, hoping to sweep what he’d done under the rug.

“Yay, I cannot wait,” you said, the sarcasm back in your tone.

“Follow me,” he ordered.

You trailed behind him, finishing off your breakfast. He was trying to ignore it, the sound of you, the feeling of your skin burning the pad of his thumb, the unsettled feeling in his stomach. He didn’t even need to ask you as you hopped up onto the gurney that had been set up after one too many accidents in the lab. Having a routine with you felt intimate, like your lives were intwining too much and he wanted to force you out.

“Blood works today,” he said, already reaching for a needle.

“I’m going to be a ghost again from all the blood you take,” you muttered.

When he turned back to you, your hands were crossed over the front of your body, holding the hem of your jumper. It was like watching in slow motion as you lifted it over your head, exposing the tight tank top you had on underneath. His eyes were lingering on your body, longer than he knew was appropriate, and yet not able to stop.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you said, dumping the crumpled up jumper to one side.

He didn’t have an answer. The entire day was not going the way he expected and he felt off kilter, almost dizzy with his own reaction to you. Ignoring it, he stepped up to you, taking one arm. He was close enough to hear your snort, the brush of your breath against his skin sending a shiver down his spine.

With a soft fingertip, he traced over the veins inside your elbow. The breath seemed to stutter in your chest and he looked up at you, from under eyelashes, head still bowed over your arm. Your lips had parted again, something inexplicable on your face. He wanted to dig down into the expression, to take it apart until he understood every part of it. The look in your eyes was making him want to drag you closer.

“Don’t look,” he murmured, plucking the needle up from where it waited.

Your eyes closed, face turning away from him. He let his gaze linger for a moment longer before he got to work. Just another sample to be analysed later. He pushed whatever moment had passed the between of you to the back of his mind, not wanting to think on it.

“All done,” he said, pressing a cotton bud to the point of extraction.

Your finger brushed his as you took over applying pressure to the inside of your elbow. He took a moment before he stepped away, checking your colour. You looked up, catching him in the act, lips quirking up in a questioning smile.

“Go eat something,” he said, “not one of those awful poptarts.”

“Make me,” you said.

The impulse to carry you away and force you to eat something good was intense. He could picture it, the way he would sling you over his shoulder and march away with you. It was very caveman, so different from how he usually was. It broke the moment, leaving him unsure of what to say as he stepped back. Something flashed over your face, too quick for him to understand as you slithered to the floor.

“Enjoy staring at my blood you psycho,” you said as a parting shot.

“I’m not-“ he called after you before giving up. It wasn’t worth it.

He took some time to go analyse the new blood sample, searching for any paranormal signifiers. It seemed normal, like anyone else’s blood would. Dead end after dead end was making him want to bash his head against the wall. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

He kept telling himself it was to get you out of his lab. Even if that little voice in the back of his head was saying something else.

The next time he saw you, you were curled up in one of the old armchairs that Lucky had dragged in one day in order to make the place more comfortable. You had a book open in your lap, hair falling forward. He paused, watching when your finger reached up, tucking some of the hair behind your ear. He could imagine it, the path his finger would take as he did the same thing, your soft skin against his fingertip.

“You’re actually quite smart,” you said and he realised his presence hadn’t gone as unnoticed as he thought.

“I know I am,” he replied.

Stepping closer, he noticed the book in your lap was a collection of essays, one of which he knew was his. Written a few years ago, before he’d had the funding he did now, his research was splayed out in your lap, your gaze tracing over it. The intimate feeling was a shock to him, the way it felt as if you were caressing his brain. You were reading his words. Words written years ago before he knew someone like you could exist. He felt his chest puff when you looked at him.

“Your writing could be clearer. You make it all so complicated,” you said.

He deflated, the pride he’d felt leaking from him. Once again, it left a flickering flame of resentment in its wake, and he wanted to lash out again. His mouth opened but you beat him to the punch.

“But your ideas are sound and you clearly know your stuff. I suppose I’m lucky I have your mind working on whatever mystery is going on with me.”

He sauntered closer, that same pride reigniting. You watched him approach, a half smile on your face as if you knew the exact reaction you were causing in him. He felt smug, knowing he was taking up space in your brain. You’d spent your time reading his research paper. You’d taken time out of your day to let his words seep into your brain.

“Very lucky,” he said, coming to a stop in front of you.

His words might have been flirty if it was anyone but you.

“But then I suppose you’re lucky getting to spend so much time with me,” you said.

Your bare foot reached out, your toes brushing against his shin. He lent forward, hands coming to rest on the back of the chair, right above your head. Towering over you, you looked so small to him, like something he could protect. But he kept you trapped there, looking down into your face.

“Lucky to have such a pain in my arse?” he asked, keeping his tone light.

“Well, you need something to get the stick out of it,” you replied. Only there was no bite to it.

“Been thinking about my arse a lot, have you?” he asked.

“You should be so lucky,” you laughed.

He lent closer, watching the moment you realised how close he was. He found himself feeling out of control around you, like his inhibitions had fled him. He couldn’t help it. Whenever it came to you lately, he lost himself to giving in to all his impulses.

One of which was screaming loudly at him.

The laughter died on your lips and he didn’t miss it when your eyes dipped down to his. He was close enough to feel your warmth, towering over you, leaning into your space. Your fingers clenched around the book in your lap, foot brushing his leg again. Just that touch, small as it was, sent electricity rocketing through his body. He wanted more of it. He wanted more of you.

Oh.

Oh no.

He wanted you.

He had never denied you were beautiful, that you were bright, that you were charismatic. But he had denied ever liking you. Only now, so close to you, watching the way you reacted to him, it became blindly obvious to him that he’d been lying to himself.

“Can I help you with something, Pinfield?” you asked, voice soft, barely above a murmur.

He thought that if he kissed you now you would kiss him back. Almost certain of it. Pretty sure you would. But that small amount of doubt niggled at him. You could be so prickly with him and you’d told him you hated being there. He was part of the lab. What if you actually didn’t like him?

“Cat got your tongue?” Your half smile had softened, just enough to make him question it all again, “I don’t think you’ve ever been so silent with me.”

He lent back, straightening up, leaving you blinking up at him, confusion marring your features. Turning on his heels, he stalked away from you, the confusion and the tangle of confused emotions making him need to retreat as fast as possible. The ache was new, wanting to go back and finish what he’d started. He couldn’t. Not if you were going to laugh in his face and tell him he was deluded. No one like you could ever possibly want him.

So he did the cowardly thing. He avoided you.

Days went by, hiding away in shadowy corners, doing all the work he’d been putting off to study you. The things no one wanted to do. Filing, cleaning, sorting, anything to keep you from finding him. Only he’d misjudged it. He’d forgotten you’d been living there long enough to find every single secret hiding spot.

After a few days, you found him in a secluded corner, far from everyone else working in the lab. He didn’t know how many other people knew about that spot, retreating to it whenever he needed time alone. Sitting on the floor, knees bent towards his chest, head in his hands, fingers clenched in his hair, he didn’t notice your approach. Or rather, the left over ghostly powers you had kept you silent as you came upon him.

“Have you given up on me?” His head jerked up at your voice, “the fire get too hot for you?”

“What?” he asked. You couldn’t know. There was no way you could know.

“Usually you’re poking and prodding me every day trying to figure out why ghosthood has forsaken me. Have you finally accepted there’s nothing to find and I can be released back into the wild?”

You walked towards him, and his mouth went dry with how your hips swayed. You stood over him, hands on your hips, staring down at him with an oddly fierce look on your face.

“I know it’s not because you’re doing anything more important. Clearly. Look at you. You’re sitting here in the dark doing nothing,” he said.

“Maybe that’s more important than studying you,” he replied, leaning his head back against the wall as he gazed up at you.

“Either you’re working on this mystery or you’re not. If you’re done can you let me know so I can clear out of here. I’d like to have a real place to live again,” you said.

“It’ll get done,” he replied.

“Really? Because you’ve been M.I.A. for days now. My entire life is put on paused because you can’t be bothered doing your job,” you continued on, as if you didn’t care about his answer.

“It’ll get done,” he said, firmer, standing as if that would get the point across.

“Sure it will, after you’ve spent the right amount of time hiding from the big scary scientific questions. What’s got you so rattled huh? I didn’t take you for the kind of man who would go running scared the minute things got difficult,” you said.

“Shut up,” he said.

“Or what?” you demanded, “the longer you drag your feet on this the longer I’m forced to live like a fugitive on the run hiding out from the law. Or maybe you hate me enough to want to keep me under lock and key.”

“You don’t know anything,” he ground out from between gritted teeth.

“Clearly because apparently I’m so abhorrent you have to avoid me. I thought we were alright. Fuck me, I guess. I can’t keep up with you. There is something seriously wrong with you, dude,” you said.

“Shut up,” he said again, taking a step forward until he was in your personal space.

He could feel all of the emotions simmering under the surface. You were staring at him, anger flashing in your eyes and you looked fierce. It made his blood sing, going toe to toe with you. He didn’t have the ability to deal with this today, not when he’d been fighting against his need to grab you and kiss you and drag you into the first private place he could find and show you exactly what you did to him.

“Not until you explain why you’re leaving me high and dry,” you said, both hands coming up to shove at his chest.

He caught you around the wrists, holding you like a pair of manacles. His thumb brushed over the bare skin of your inner wrist, over your pulse point. You stared at him, mouth falling open and he couldn’t figure out if it was through confusion or indignation. Tugging you closer, you were so close, your body heat brushing against him and he realised what a mistake that had been. But once again, impulse took over his brain when you were near.

“What are you doing?” you all but whispered.

“Shutting you up.”

He swooped down, kissing you, his fingers tightening around your wrists. He felt you gasp more than he heard it, but it was enough for his tongue to slip into your mouth. You were frozen for just a moment and he was certain you were about to knee him in the gonads. Then, you melted, pressing closer, kissing him back until you took his breath away.

The fire and the passion you’d brought about in him seemed to have found a match. You tugged out of his hold, arms twining around his neck as his hands slid around your body, pressing you into him. The small noise you made only stoked the fire further. His hands cupped your arse and your teeth sunk into his lower lip. He was surprised at the rush that gave him, the spike of pain followed by the soothing of your tongue running over it.

He spun, pushing you against the wall he’d so recently been leaning against. You arched towards him. His hands landed either side of your body, keeping you trapped there, caging you in. You kissed him deeper, longer, and all he could do was groan and sink into it.

You were everywhere, in every single one of his senses, consuming him. All he could do was press closer, groaning when your fingers slid into his hair, tugging on it, playing with it, mussing it. It was so much better than he could have imagined.

“Fuck love,” he mumbled, his lips trailing down your neck, “who knew shutting you up could be so enjoyable in so many ways?”

“You’re such an asshole,” you laughed, breathless as you tilted your head, offering yourself up to him.

“I think that says more about you than it does about me,” he said, teeth sinking in to your skin for just a moment.

“No one said I ever made the sensible decisions,” you said.

He drew back, looking at you. Bright eyes and kiss stung lips, you were a vision he would never grow tired of seeing. He brought a hand up, cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. You nipped at the pad of his thumb and he chuckled.

“Then I think you should have dinner with me tonight,” he said, “if you’re determined to not make sensible decisions.”

“I’m not allowed out,” you reminded him.

“You are with supervision. Call me your own personal ankle monitor,” he said, “I won’t take my eyes off you.”

“Sounds like you’ll be getting more out of it than I will. Especially if I wear a sexy little number,” you said.

“And why would you do that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Maybe because I’m so desperate to sleep in a proper bed I’m willing to go home with you,” you replied.

“So you’re going to seduce me?”

“I think I already have.”

You looked down, indicating the lack f space between your bodies. The leg he’d inserted between yours. The hand on your hip, keeping you pressed against the wall. His own swollen lips and flushed cheeks. The chuckle that fell from his lips was soft, and yet joyful.

“I suppose you have,” he agreed.

“So, dinner?” you asked.

“Tonight. No need for a sec little number. I’ll be taking you home even if you’re in your pyjamas,” he said and he liked the way that sentiment seemed to melt you.

“I think you might be a closet romantic, Pinfield,” you said, lips curling up into a small smile.

“I suppose you’ll have to stick with me if you want to find out,” he replied.

Impulse drove him to kiss you again, only this time, he was certain you’d kiss him back. You did not disappoint.

[holbrookswifey]

Fuckkkk lowkey need to see skom James tied up and begging,,, feel like he’d be a freak in that era

ALSO I LOVE HOW U WRITE HIM💔💔💔

This time, I'm in charge

James Hetfield (skom era) x fem!reader

Summary: James was pissed from fighting with Lars the whole day, and he takes his anger out on you, so you show him that you're not someone to put up with when he's angry

Warnings: Smut MDNI 18+, unprotected sex, angst, use of alcohol, verbal abuse, bondage, male submission, teasing, slight edging

A/N: I had so much fun writing this so thank you anon for helping me bring out some of my kinky writing 😂 i do apologize that its a bit short, but as always, feel free to submit who you'd like me to write about next

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James came home angry once again after fighting with Lars since Kirk texted you there was a fight between James and Larsas soon as James left the studio. You hated seeing James pissed off, but once he was in the angry mood, it'll take hours, even days for him to fully calm down especially after Jason left the band and they were stuck in a search to try and find a new bassist.

Being married to James since 1993 has been a roller coaster dealing with his alcohol addiction and constant mood swings was something you were slowly growing used to, but praying that the marriage wouldn't grow into something more abusive like how you saw your parents treat each other in your childhood, hoping that this marriage wouldn't turn out like theirs.

You hear the front door swing open, then slam shut, knowing James just walked into the house. He's definitely pissed so you don't say anything as you see him enter and head straight to the kitchen. You knew him well enough that he was going to grab a bottle of beer, but you keep your mouth shut in hopes to not piss him off today more than he was already.

James reaches into the dimly lit refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of beer, as expected, before closing the refrigerator door, using a bottle opener to pop the lid off with a slight hiss from the top and he throws the lid into the sink, making you sigh as you've cleaned more than enough beer bottle lids from the sink in the past week.

You decide to go and talk to him, trying your best to stay calm as you make your way into the kitchen, seeing him leaning against the counter by his ass and taking big sips from the brown bottle. You mentally prepare yourself for what's about to come. Was he extremely pissed, or was he mildly pissed? Maybe in between, you wondered to yourself until you see his facial expressions. Yup. Extremely pissed.

You lean on the doorway, looking at James as he's staring into space before he sees you. "Hi, honey. How was your day?" You ask him, trying to put on your next sympathetic face.

He rolls his eyes, taking a big mouthful from long-necked bottle before shaking his head and heading towards the doorway, hoping to get past you. "Fucking horrible." He mutters as his shoulder hits yours as he passes you, making you stumble a little. You can tell this was going to lead to another fight.

You follow him into the living room where he plops himself into his chair, leaning back and manspreading. "I heard what happened between you and Lars earlier." You comment, seeing his eyes almost darken at the thought of the fight.

"Why are you starting fights now?" You ask, crossing your arms. James looks up and glares at you. "And why are you assuming that I'm the one starting them?" James asks in a standoffish tone "Lars was being an asshole and fucking with me when I told him I was in a shit mood." James carries on.

"But does that give you the right to just walk out and slam the door like you did?" You reply, not trying to sassy or rude but it may have sounded that way to James. Oh boy James was not happy when you said that.

"Just keep your mouth shut." James spits back in a harsher tone than you've ever heard from him, which causes surprise to hit you hard. "Excuse me?" You ask quietly.

"You heard me, now keep your fucking mouth shut!" James snaps, making you bewildered at James's harsh behavior. You've never heard him this hostile before, which makes you angry yourself.

"Say that again, I fucking dare you." You reply, stepping in front of the TV to stop him from watching it. He looks more angry than ever now.

"Bitch, shut the fuck up and move!!" He almost screams at you, giving you flashbacks to the time your own father yelling at your mum. You weren't going to take this verbal abuse from James.

"Do it yourself, you prick." You taunt, not backing down. This makes James almost snap as he slams down the beer bottle and pushes himself off the chair, almost getting in your face. "I am not afraid to hurt you, now keep that fucking whore mouth of yours shut and listen to m--" You cut him off, grabbing him by his shirt and yanking him close enough that your faces are almost touching.

"Shut the fuck up, you abusive piece of shit!" You yell, which catches James off guard since you've always taken his bad moods and yelling, but today was different, almost snapping him out his anger, but you just keep going. "I am your wife and I will not take your shit anymore! Either shut that fat mouth of yours or I will shut it for you!" You push him back, making him fall back into his chair, shock in his eyes.

He stammers, tripping over his own words as he tries to act tough again but clearly failing. "Y-You can't do shit to me!" He tries to intimidate you, but he knows he's about to piss himself since he's never seen you so defensive and angry, especially with him.

"Option two it is." You say in a harsh tone as you grab him by his shirt and drag him to the bedroom, slamming him onto the bed but not letting him move. You kick the door shut as loud as he slammed the door when he came home, making him flinch. You reach for the knob on the drawer on the nightstand where you keep toys, blindfolds, even restraints such as handcuffs and rope.

You grab two pieces of rope and loom over him like a predator hunting its prey, seeing how much he's switched up from brooding and dangerous to a whimpy little girl. "Take off everything but your underwear." You say in a commanding tone, which makes him comply with ease, his hands almost ripping off his own plain white t-shirt and his hands fumbling shakily with his belt and pants, kicking them off and laying back down, still looking like he's about to piss

With the tough facade that you cannot break down now, feeling way too powerful to stop now. You hear his breath hitch when you call him that, still looking at you with fear but also arousal. You reach down, motioning for him to give you his wrists. He doesn't do it at first, but after seeing you extremely pissed off, he lets you take his wrists, tying one on one bed post and the other wrist to the other bed post, making sure they're secure.

You decide to grab a gag from the drawer at the last second, putting it in his mouth to keep him from talking as you undress yourself, showing yourself off to him as he lays there helpless and tied. You can see the obvious boner he has in his boxers, which gives you the opportunity to tease him. You walk over to the bed, straddling his hips as you hook your fingers around the elastic of his boxers, tugging them down until they're pooling at his ankles. His cock comes out and slaps his lower stomach, hard and leaking with pre-cum as his eyes beg you for release.

You lean close to his face, your tits close to where his gagged mouth is, making him whine from desperation to suck on your tits, to have what he wants but he knows you're punishing him from his aggression earlier. You decide that he doesn't deserve to have his dick sucked or touched, which makes him whine even more, his erection almost painful from how hard he is as he sees you dominate him.

You decide to mess with him even more, running your pussy lips up and down the shaft of his dick at a painfully slow pace, but not letting him enter yet. James whines desperately as both your tits are almost touching his face and your pussy won't let his cock inside of you, which he tries to beg through the gag. You can see how much torture you're causing him, making you feel proud of yourself to see your once dominant husband a whiny mess.

His hands try to move to at least touch your tits, but since he's still tied up, he lets out a loud sound between a groan and a whine of frustration, looking like he's about to break into tears if he's not given what he wants. As you feel like you've teased him enough, you finally let the head of his cock slip into your pussy, making both of you moan, letting him go all the way inside you. As you see him trying to thrust, you hold his hips down to stop him.

"Not yet." You command, moving your hips at a painfully slow pace. You feel his cockhead immediately hit your g-spot, making you gasp and groan, realizing how much he's the one that's dominant and not you. James keeps on whining, wanting to touch you, any part of you, but he's still powerless, smaller than you as his only choice is to lay there and take it without getting to touch you.

Time goes by and you decide that it's fair to loosen the load off of him and you remove the gag from his mouth, letting him speak again. "Asshole." Is what he says to you, but it doesn't sound like a threat. Both of you are rapidly approaching your orgasms, seeing he's absolutely desperate and in need to touch you, so as you keep riding him mercilessly, you decide to give him his freedom, untying his wrists. His hands immediately grab your hips, but one of them grabs your upper back and pushes you down so you're face to face with him.

He leans up and attacks your breasts, latching onto a nipple and sucking it like he's a newborn baby, making you moan loudly as well as his cock pistoning in and out of you at an extreme pace. Unable to stop yourself, you feel your orgasm hit you hard, making your eyes roll back and letting out a loud moan, which James's orgasm follows close behind yours, thrusting up into you and letting his hot cum squirt into you. As reality hits you, you collapse onto his chest, both yours and James's hearts are pumping like never before and your breathing is heavy.

As you both finally calm down, James pulls you down so you're lying beside him, his body wrapping around yours as a protective barrier. He kisses you softly, stroking your back with delicate motions. As your breaths steady, he looks down at you, still surprised how you stood up to him like you did.

"You need to be pissed off with me more." James jokes, trying to make you laugh, which succeeds. You chuckle as you look at him "I'll take you up on that."

[burning-academia-if]

iiiit's spooky season! Romanced and/or crushing ROs reactions to an MC who gets very scared or anxious watching scary movies? Like to the point of hiding their faces in the ROs necks or grabbing their hands in a death grip or insisting they can't sleep by themselves after?

Rook: He is the one laughing and making fun of you the whole time askdflja Every time you jump or latch onto his wrist, he is trying to hide a grin. Of course, the second you goes from general jumps and having his arm in a vice grip, to burrowing yourself against his neck to hide, he goes from finding it funny to being frozen during the crush stage. He'd also tell you you'd be fine post movie and you don't need to sleep near each other (it's not because of what that would do to him internally, it's just inconvenient). Dating stage, he takes way too much enjoyment in you clinging to him, and would jump at you sleeping in his bed

Beck: He does pretty decent with horror movies, but he'll gladly offer an arm or shoulder if need be. If it gets really bad, he'll start talking to distract you from the really scary parts, letting you take his hand in yours. He honestly finds it pretty cute? Although he'd also wonder how you're doing considering you're in an IRL horror movie at times. He wouldn't blink at you asking to spend the night or sleep together, either, crushing or dating stage.

Rhea: The two of you are doing it to each other because she is awful with horror movies lol. Her hand clutching onto your wrist, you burrowed into her side. By the end of the movie you two are so wrapped up in each other trying to hide it's probably the closest you've been during the crush stages. During the crash stage, she'll practically leap away once the movie is over and she's got her senses back. When dating, she'll use it as an excuse to keep clinging on to you

Zoe: They're pretending to be a lot braver than they are for you during a horror movie. They're literally stiff as a board, back straight, brows furrowed and hands a little sweaty as they brace for every jump scare. At the very least they are distracted by all the physical contact you're giving them. Crushing stage, they might even be fine during the movie because they're so distracted by your touch. Dating stage, they'd be a lot more comfortable with it, although they'd still be pretty shy about sharing a bed with you depending on how long you've been dating

Lars: He's so annoyed LMAO. There's eye rolling and a long suffering sigh as he comes to accept he's just going to lose the use of his arm throughout the entirety of the movie. During crushing stage, there's no way you're sleeping together, but since he doesn't sleep at night anyway he'd just tell you to sleep in his room while he gets work done at his desk or something. Dating stage he might be more open to it, but again, it depends on how long you've been dating

???: Finds your fear really cute and endearing, and will gladly let you cling on to them as much as you need to. They probably enjoy the whole affair too much, especially since horror movies would have no affect on them. They'd let you stay with them and sleep together with them without hesitation, and they'd stay awake to offer comfort until you fell asleep.

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

Imagine Larry with a rich snobby reader who makes fun of him for living in an apartment and it's like an enemies to lovers thing

I hope you have a good day🌊⛴️

Summary: Larry Johnson with a rich and snobby reader who makes fun of him, until an unlikely event happens that leads them to bond....

Genre: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Enemies to lovers

Warnings: Reader is classist for a while in the beginning, smoking, trauma, enemies to lovers, heavy mentions of bullying

Credits: Larry Johnson- Sally Face, Cigarette Divider- naturesgoddess on tumblr

A/n: Ourgh....Larry the man you are....also, im not the best at enemies to lovers so sorry if this lowkey sucks <///3

Thank you so much for requesting!!

Standing in the bathroom of the school, you fix your hair up a bit and spray your favorite perfume/cologne. You can't believe your parents made you go to this place. You missed your private academy, it had a heavy focus on the arts and sports, and everyone there actually had self worth. Not like this place. Your parents had insisted you go after you'd gotten into some trouble at your last school for bullying some of the "less fortunate" kids. They decided it'd do you good to go to a public school for a little bit, just so you could see what life is like for the average person. Well you saw now, and you hated it. Not because you wished the other kids could have better, but because frankly, you were tired of always looking over your shoulder to make sure none of these freaks would try and steal your designer bags. You always felt like a lamb surrounded by wolves at this school, but it was only a little bit longer until you could leave. You just had to hold on.

And you know what? You could deal with everything else. You could deal with the stares, and the fear of your stuff being stolen, and the disgust at what the cafeteria calls 'food', you can deal with all that! What you can't deal with, however, is Larry Johnson. A greasy, dirty boy who also went to your school. He had long tangled hair, wore tattered, oversized clothes, and was always listening to music that gave you a migraine. You don't talk to him, you have no reason to. He didn't talk to you either, there seemed to be a mutual understanding that neither of you like each other. He always hangs around the grossest kids of the school, it seems. Some kid with pigtails and a mask (seriously, does he not know Halloween is over?), a ginger with way too big of glasses, and a girl who looks like she got her whole outfit from Claire's. Larry though, was by far the worst of them.

The tension building between the two of you all came to a head when his friend with the mask accidentally dropped his lighter by your foot, and when he bent down to pick it up, you made an audible noise of disgust. The kid himself didn't seem to mind, but Larry apparently did, because almost instantly he was by Sal's side, raising his voice when he asks "What's your problem?!" You scrunch your nose and look him up and down, not believing he was actually talking to you. You choose to ignore him and try to get back to doing your homework, but he wasn't having any of that. "Hey! All that money get stuck in your ears or something? I'm talking to you!" His friend grabs at his shoulder "Come on, lar, it's not that big of a dea-" "Nuh uh!" He cuts him off, rolling his shoulder away from his friend's hand. "You know what, your majesty? Just because your mom seduced her way into your dad's arms and got him saddled with you, that don't make you any better than any of us!" You huffed and stood up abruptly, putting your stuff on the bench and pointing your finger at his face "Keep my family out of your mouth, apartment rat! At least I have a dad!"

Sal gasps and you could almost see how hard Larry was holding himself back. It's quiet for a moment, the tension so thick you could cut it. It lasts until Sal once again pulls Larry by his shoulder "Come on dude, they aren't worth it" Larry grunts and lets himself be led away by his friend. You scoff and pick your stuff back up, and put it into your bag. So much for doing your homework.

---

A few days went by, the tension between the two of you quieting down a bit. You were thankful you didn't have to see him unless you were leaving, and even then it was rare. After a particularly rough day, you decided to hang around town for a little bit. You found yourself a nice spot in the grass to sit, secluded away from anyone else who wasn't there with you. You lay your head against the brick wall, the coolness of it providing some comfort. You rest there for a moment until you hear the sound of boots getting closer and closer to where you are. When the person finally comes into view, you scrunch up your nose. Larry Johnson. He lets out a huff, "It's you." He fumbles around in his pockets for a moment, pulling out a lighter and a beaten up pack of cigarettes. "This is my spot, y'know. Get out." You scoff "'get out?' What makes you think I'm just gonna do what you tell me?" He takes a few drags before motioning to you "What're you even doing out here anyways? Shouldn't you be out at the country club playing golf?"

You turn your head away and scoff. "...just needed space..." you mumble. He comes to sit beside you and offers you the cigarette. You look at it for a moment before hesitantly taking it. You take a short hit before coughing and your eyes begin to water. Larry snorts and takes it back. It is quiet for a moment, but for the first time, it isn't filled with tension. You both still don't like each other, but for some reason it almost feels like you could get used to this.

[gimme-noodles-please]

If you're still taking requests for Lovebrush fics and hcs could you write about the first date which each of the LIs? It can be short and all the details are up to you!

First Date Headcannons

characters x gn! reader

—— characters; Aiyin/Ayn, Luchen/Alkaid, Luoxia/Lars, Silan/Clarence, Yexuan/Cael

——————————————

Ayn

he would definitely take you to cafe-hopping! we all know how much he loves sweets heh

at first when he asks you out, he asked where you would like to go. he would go with whatever you suggest!

however if you are unable to decide he would suggest to go cafe-hopping :3

being the gentlemen he is, he would pay for everything

he does not really initiate any physical contact, the most he would go is reach for your hand as you both walk down the pathway, only to retract his hand and stuff them in his pocket if you didn’t notice. (he likes to hold your hand 🥺)

“Hmm, the chocolate cake looks delicious. And so does the cheesecake. Oh? You want to try both? Sounds good to me”

Alkaid

he lets you make the decision! however if you can’t decide, he would take you to his favourite hill to stargaze and of course a picnic with food he made himself personally!

there are sandwiches, cupcakes and blended fruit juices, just for you! he’s got everything prepared for a perfect date

it is cute how he seems so contented talking about the constellations you both see while talking about the stories behind it

at the end of the day he would escort you back to your home, hesitantly leaving a gentle kiss on the top of your head as his soft voice bids you goodnight

“Whenever i look into your eyes, I see the whole universe of stars. It’s beautiful, just like you”

Lars

amusement park. he would immediately suggest to go to the amusement park. there isn’t one on the island? no worries, he got his yacht and helicopter at his beck and call. are you worried about the ticket price? don’t worry, he’s got everything covered, just relax and enjoy

he would take your hand in his with no hesitation as he leads you to one ride after the other, resembling an excited puppy going out to play

he likes to go on more thrilling rides but would go on whichever you would like to too! he would prefer to be with you at all times. if you are too scared to ride any thrilling rides, he would not force you, though that does not mean he won’t tease you a litte

he spoils you a lot. if he notices your eyes lingering a little too long on something, like example a huge cotton candy. he would buy one for you despite your protests

“Oh come on, is my little painter scared of a rollercoaster like this~? It’s okay, if you are scared, you can grab onto my arm, I will always be by your side.”

Clarence

he would love to go to the cat cafe! he loves cats and he doesn’t wish to go with something typical like the movies or a fancy restaurant. plus he doubts you would like to go fishing with him.

he is very gentle and respectful throughout the date. like offering his hand when you are walking down the stairs with no railing to hold on to

you might be surprised by how natural clarence is with cats. cats love him for some reason. he teaches you the basics of cat behaviour, how to pet a cat properly and most importantly, asking the cat for permission before patting it

overall it is the chill happi vibes hehe. (he was worried that the date would be too boring for you)

he would definitely buy something for you, like perhaps a matching set of merchandise from the cafe as memory of this day

“I had a great time today, any time spent with you is enjoyable. What about you?”

Cael

dude literally knows you so well considering he was with you throughout your teen years. at some point in time there is an instance when you mentioned to him about your ideal first date

he doesn’t tell you the location and just asked you to prepare, when you asked where you’d be going, he would mysteriously smile and shake his head, saying it is a surprise

you are taken by surprise just how well prepared the date was (he would literally do anything just to make you happy, no matter the cost or methods needed to achieve it. i mean, ‼️SPOILER ALERT‼️ he literally built a cinema before with futuristic technology to show a possible future you might have, there is nothing this man can’t do)

you could tell he was nervous, after all he has never been on a date with someone. the only experience he has is hearing stories from your mom when she was still alive and possibly fangirling about your father

aside from his well-concealed nervousness that only you were able to observe from his slight change in his normally serene expression, you would’ve thought that he had some sort of experience with this considering how flawless and smooth the entire date went.

“My greatest happiness is seeing you happy, seeing you smile makes all my efforts worth it.”

[ken-dom]

Riding Lars Lindstrom’s Thick Thighs

Author’s notes: I have been writing but I’ve been unwell and managed just about a couple of lines a night for two weeks 💀 hoping to finish the fic I’m working on soon (and also get better asap), but in the meantime I’m going to get some sleep, and thought I’d leave you with a Lars thought in the form of a drabble I just accidentally wrote whilst half asleep…

Warnings/content: thigh riding, afab!reader, premature ejaculation, cumming in pants (practically untouched)

You’re both still fully clothed, his strong hands gripping your waist hard enough to control your movements. But he doesn’t. He just presses you down, firm against him, feeling every roll of your hips and every judder as you teeter closer to the edge.

His eyes squeeze tight shut each time you gasp or whine or moan his name, unable to believe you could be so turned on by him, so needy for his touch that you’ll take his clothed thigh and use it eagerly, ravenous for anything he will give you.

He knows you’ll be sopping wet inside your trousers and wishes he could feel it for himself, drag his fingers through your slick and taste it… but he’s not quite ready for that just yet.

His cock throbs inside the confines of his own trousers. One brush of your hand and he knows he’ll spill, hot and thick, inside his underwear and be unable to look you in the eye for a week. But seeing you like this does something to him he’s never felt before. It’s wrong and dirty and exciting, and he craves more every time. But he’s scared.

He’ll get there, though. Eventually.

For now, your fingertips are bruising into his broad shoulders, even through all his layers, and your head drops from his forehead to the crook of his neck as you ride harder; quick, fast ruts against his thigh.

He can tell you’re close by the way your breathing turns ragged and tenses the muscles of his thigh, jolting his leg with a rapid bounce in a futile attempt to calm his desires, but mainly to help get you there. His eyes are wide with wonder at your open mouthed response and as your release takes over, your entire body tensing deliciously and his name falling from your lips one last time, your knee brushes against the bulge in his trousers.

Without warning, Lars sees stars, and suddenly it’s over for him too.

He does manage to look you in the eyes before the week is out. Before the night is out, actually. And it’s entirely thanks to the way you helped clean him up and told him how hot it was before holding him in your arms all night, whispering sweet nothings and stroking his hair — a sensation he’d never imagined could feel so soothing.

After so long without touch, he does so like to be held close after a good orgasm.

[nickybloodhead]

Kinktober day 24: Sex Toys

After you taught James how to use the app, there was no turning back. Whenever you went out he would ask you to use it, he loved having control over your pleasure and what better way to do it than with that small but powerful vibrator you had received as a joke from a friend.

At first you didn't think he would have such an overreaction, but you guessed that the idea of being able to provoke you at every step was too tempting for him. He always begged you to use it at the most inopportune moments, they had already gotten into a lot of trouble for being too playful, of course he didn't give a shit.

You were sure you two would end up fucking in one of Lars' rooms, he had invited you to a small party with friends promising a barbecue and beer, you knew from James' wide grin that he would make you use the vibrator, the naughty gleam in his eyes only confirmed it.

"I'll use it if you know how to behave, I don't want to make a scene in front of everyone" you reprimand him crossing your arms to look stern, however he smiles mischievously, oh, it's going to be a long day but you can't help but be a little excited about it.

Most of the party goes by without incident which is rare, by this point he would have your legs shaking from the over stimulation of your pussy. You shrug it off and continue chatting with your friends; you shouldn't have let your guard down. The intermittent vibration inside you made you gasp obscenely, your knees buckled almost making you lose your balance, the curious looks you received made you laugh nervously.

You looked for James with your eyes and found him in a secluded corner looking at his phone, he winked at you and continued as if nothing had happened. You continued with your conversation, but again, the delicious massage to your inner walls resumed, you clenched your teeth to contain a moan and decided to take a seat, some of your acquaintances wanted to make sure you were okay but you dismissed them claiming a simple pain in the leg. The waves were present again and you clenched your legs, bit your lip and covered your eyes to contain yourself.

You saw James smile in delight at your reaction so you approached him with determination, pulled his hand and led him into the house, several pairs of eyes following you and making jokes about how he was in trouble.

"All in order honey?" you glared at him and pulled him into one of the nearby rooms, he seemed amused with the situation, well, it was time to end the games.

"I told you to behave" You walk dangerously towards him, he frowns and as he backs away he stumbles and falls over a small couch. You sit on one of his legs, your wetness seeping through your panties and staining his pants, maybe it was a good thing you decided to wear a dress. "You like playing with me, don't you baby? Well now it's my turn" You take his phone out of his pocket and turn on the lush again, letting it vibrate gently as you begin to rock on his thigh.

His hands try to hold your waist but you push them away before he does, he pouts in annoyance, he's a brat. You grind on his leg, your swollen folds dripping while the vibrator massages your sweet spot, you moan and roll your eyes, he's enthralled by how hot you look riding him like that.

He wiggles his pelvis trying to get your attention on his bulge, that only gets you to mock him, you run a hand through his hair and grab it to pull it, he whimpers in surprise.

"I don't think you deserve my touch, not now , at least, so stay still and let me cum" You give him a small pat on his cheek and hold his hands to prevent him from having any contact. James doesn't accept it, not when he can feel your hole contracting, he releases his grip and lifting the leg you are straddling, makes you fall onto his chest, wrapping an arm around your waist, trapping your wrists in the process.

"It's my game precious, so it's my rules" You squirm in his grip and try to protest but a squeal interrupts you, his fingers push inside you along with the vibrator, your walls stretch with each thrust of his thick fingers, gasp against his chest and move your hips to make him go deeper, you will let him win this time but only because he is making you feel amazing.

You brush his erection with your thigh as he fingers you, he hisses at the contact and pushes his hips towards you, his fingers slide out of you, you look at him with annoyance but he erases that expression from your face with a kiss, a scream comes out suddenly from you, the buzzing in your cunt increases and you feel him push the vibrator deeper into your hole, his fingers fiddle with your pussy rim.

“You're leaking everywhere, and you've already ruined my pants…what am I going to do with you?” His fingers massage your folds and surround your clit, the touch makes your hips contract, it doesn't take much more than a couple of kisses on the neck to take you to the peak of ecstasy, you moan uncontrollably as you come on his fingers, the toy sliding out of your pussy along with thick drops of your fluids. You swallow hard, trying to compose yourself, nuzzling your face against James' chest and closing your eyes for a moment.

“We should have behaved Het…” You mutter under your breath and giggle softly.

“You know very well that we never do it.”

This is modern 80s James, he would be a tease in the present day

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Can you please write a classic trope of reader overhearing black album/load James calling her “clingy”? Like guys in the band joke about it and he is fed up? So she stops coming over to studios and bringing food over, stops asking him to pick her up from work, if he wants to go to a bar, she always has a “headache”? Maybe it’s not until Bob Rock mentions that he likes when she’s over cause James always does a better job in her presence? - that’s when he gets that something is off???

I hope you like it❤

Hurtful Word

The studio has that same familiar smell—beer, lingering cigarette smoke, and the electric hum of amps running hot. I balance a bag with burgers and a beer as I push open the door, knowing James has been holed up here for hours. I just wanted to show up, bring him something he’d actually eat, something other than junk food and coffee. It’s a small thing, but I’ve always thought it meant something.

But as soon as I walk in, Lars glances over and smirks at Kirk. Their eyes flick to me, exchanging that look they always get when they’re about to make a joke.

“Damn, man,” Lars says, his voice loud enough to carry. “You got yourself a personal chef now? Can’t even get a sandwich without her delivering it?”

Kirk snickers, crossing his arms. “Yeah, dude, she’s here more than we are. Got a whole support team working for you, huh?”

The teasing makes my chest tighten, but I keep my head high, hoping James will laugh it off. But instead of a joke or a roll of his eyes, he glances at me, looks away, and mutters, “You don’t need to keep doing this. It’s kinda… clingy.”

Clingy. The word slices through me, and I freeze. I don’t even hear the guys teasing him further because the room goes silent in my head. Clingy.

Lars laughs. “Oh, she’s clingy now?” he grins. “Better watch out, man, she might end up moving in next.”

“Yeah, at least keep some space, Hetfield,” Kirk chimes in. “You don’t want to be tied down yet.”

My smile falters. I feel my face heat, and I force myself to nod. “Right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to hover.” My voice is too tight, too fake. I turn to leave quickly, wanting to get out before anyone can say anything else.

I don’t even make it to the door before I hear James mutter something, but it’s too late. I’m already out.

____

James Hetfield POV

The next few days are strange. She’s not at the studio, hasn’t called, hasn’t stopped by. When I wanted to go at bar she said that she had a headache. I figured at first she’d just been busy. But by the second day, I realize it’s more than that. She’s actively keeping her distance. I try to shake it off, thinking it’s just her way of taking some space, but there’s an unease gnawing at me.

My concentration is shot. The guys are noticing. I can’t get anything right during practice.

Bob Rock finally pulls me aside one evening, looking at me like he knows something’s wrong.

“You okay, James?” Bob asks, his tone casual but concerned. “You’ve been off the last couple of days. It’s like something’s not clicking.”

I rub my face, trying to avoid admitting it. “Just tired, man. It’s been a long couple of sessions.”

Bob gives me a look, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I get it. But, uh... I’ve noticed something, and I’m gonna be blunt with you, alright?”

I look up, a little surprised. “What’s that?”

Bob leans in slightly, his voice dropping. “When she’s here, when she’s around, you play better. Hell, the band’s tighter, too. There’s something about the way you focus when she’s here, like she brings out the best in you. But now that she’s gone... it’s like you’ve lost your spark.”

I stare at Bob, the words hitting harder than I expected. She makes me better? I never thought of it that way. But Bob’s right. Every time she showed up with lunch or a little note, I’d felt more grounded. More centered. The music flowed easier. And now? It’s like the fire’s gone out. The sessions feel lifeless. I’ve been distracted, unfocused.

Suddenly, I feel a deep pang of regret. I hadn’t realized how much she was actually keeping me grounded, how much her quiet presence affected me. I’d taken her for granted, pushed her away with my stupid, careless words. I can’t take it anymore. Not the silence. Not the distance between us. I’ve been calling her all week, and every time, it goes straight to voicemail. It’s eating me alive. I don’t care how bad I fucked up—I need to fix this. I need to see her, to hear her, to make sure she knows that I’m sorry. 

I jump in the car, my hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly. My thoughts are a jumbled mess. “Clingy” I said that word to her. And now I can't stop hearing it echoing in my head. The guys had joked, but I could see it in her eyes—she wasn’t laughing. I pushed her away, and now I can’t reach her. 

I don’t even think as I pull up to her building. I park quickly, my heart pounding in my chest, and rush to the door. My breath catches in my throat as I knock, then ring the doorbell. There’s no answer. I knock again, harder this time, and then… nothing. 

I press my ear against the door, and I hear movement inside. My stomach tightens. I don’t know if it’s hope or desperation, but I feel the overwhelming need to be with her, to fix what’s broken.

Finally, the door opens just enough for her face to peek through. Her eyes are tired, and she looks… fragile. Like she’s been holding herself together, but just barely.

I swallow hard. “Can we talk?” My voice cracks a little, betraying the anxiety twisting in my gut. “I need to talk to you.”

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even step aside at first. For a second, I think she might slam the door in my face. But then she opens it wider, just enough to let me in. I walk past her, my heart hammering in my chest, and she follows me in silence.

The air between us is thick—heavy with everything that hasn’t been said. I turn around to face her, and for a moment, I can’t find the words. The look on her face… It breaks me. It’s like she’s shutting down, like she’s already made up her mind to walk away.

“I was stupid,” I blurt, the words tumbling out faster than I can control. “I shouldn’t have said that. "Clingy". What the hell was I thinking? You’re not clingy. You’re—God, I don’t even know how to fix this. I can’t take it back, but I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

She just stands there, her eyes cold and distant. I hate it. I hate seeing her like this—like she doesn’t care anymore. The silence between us stretches out, making the weight of what I said feel heavier than ever.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Her voice is quieter than I expect, almost like a whisper. “You made me feel like I was too much. Like I wasn’t even wanted. I was just trying to be there for you, and you… you pushed me away. In front of the guys, James. You made me feel like a joke.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I can see it now—how badly I hurt her. How wrong I was. She’s standing there, so small, her shoulders slumped like she’s carrying the weight of everything I’ve said. 

I feel my chest tightening, my throat burning. “I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean to do that. You’ve never been too much, not for me. I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re everything to me, and I—God, I don’t even know how I got so fucking stupid.”

I take a step toward her, my hand reaching out, but she pulls back slightly. “I don’t know if you even understand how much you hurt me,” she says, her voice shaking now. “You made me feel like I was suffocating you. And I can’t keep trying if you’re not going to see me. If you don’t want me around…”

The words trail off, and I can hear the tears in her voice. My heart shatters, and before I even realize it, I’m moving toward her, pulling her into my arms.

“I didn’t mean it,” I say, my voice breaking. “I don’t ever want to hurt you. I was a fucking idiot, okay? Please, don’t walk away from me.”

She stands still for a moment, then gives in, her body relaxing as she buries her face in my chest. I feel the wetness of her tears against my shirt, and it kills me. I never wanted to make her feel like this. Never.

“I miss you,” I whisper, holding her tighter. “I need you. Please don’t leave me.”

Her hands clutch the front of my shirt, and for a moment, we’re both just standing there, tangled up in the mess of emotions between us. The silence is raw, but it feels real.

She pulls back slightly, just enough to look me in the eyes. “You’ve gotta promise me, James. Promise me you’ll never do this again. That I’m not just some fucking joke to you.”

“I promise,” I say, my voice steady now. “I swear to you, I’ll never make you feel that way again. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize what I had until I almost lost it.”

And then, suddenly, I feel the need to say something else. Something that’s been weighing on me for a while. I pull her back into my arms, my hands gripping her tightly as I press my lips to her hair. “You know, I always appreciated you showing up at the studio. I never said it, but you always brought something with you—something that helped me focus.

When you’re there, I can think clearer, the music just comes to me better. It’s like I’m myself again, you know? And when you weren’t around these last couple of days, I realized how much I’ve been taking you for granted. I need you there. Not just because I like having you close, but because you make me better.”

She doesn’t speak for a moment, but I feel her body soften against mine. “I didn’t know that,” she whispers.

“I should have told you sooner,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I need you in my life. Not just in the studio, but everywhere.”

Her hand rests gently on my chest. “I need you too, James. But you’ve gotta prove it.”

“I will,” I promise, brushing my lips against her forehead. “Every day, I’ll show you.”

We stand there in the quiet of her apartment, the weight of everything between us slowly lifting. For the first time in days, I feel a sense of peace. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know that as long as I don’t let her go again, we’ll find our way through it together.

[gepazu]

imagine the boys taking you on your first ever date … lars would be sure to recite everything he’d get you in the front of a mirror as he fixes himself up with a smile and sing-song pitch to his voice. would definitely give you a bouquet of roses with your favorites accentuating the deep greens and reds. he’ll pull a cheesy pickup line that makes you giggle a bit before smiling fondly, holding out his hand—and telling you how darling you look at this very moment <3 also.. if you look closely… you might see a type of longing in his eyes once you catch him staring at your hands and lips. you won’t tell him he got caught or something.. but you will kiss him on the cheek after your date and wave goodbye—not knowing the hand you’re waving with now loudly jingles with the keys to his heart <3.

clarence, on the other hand, would be the fidgety type—hands never seeming to pull his tie right (he almost choked because he didn’t realize he pulled too tightly). despite his stoic expression in front of his dress-mirror, his ears to his nape are flushed a cherry-blossom pink; breathing a bit erratic as he imagines the expression on your face when you seem him prim and proper at the cafe. would you smile? be amazed? be as fidgety as he is right no—wait, he wasn’t fidgety! he isn’t, he tells himself with a cough before looking at his watch, seeing his reflection in it, and groans inwardly. okay… maybe he is a bit flustered.. but it’s probably because it’s you he’s going out with. he’s utterly infatuated with you… and the problem is he wasn’t taught anything about love (until now—until you, that is) <3.

and cael.. oh cael. you’re heart is going to feel like bursting multiple times mid-date from his actions and antics! he knows you inside and out, having taken care of you after you were entrusted into his arms from a young age. despite having seen and known you for what feels like a sweet forevermore—his heart stills manages to spill all over you in some rare moments when your hand slips between his, lips covered with bits and pieces of cotton candy he can’t help but want to kiss to get a taste of you. his thoughts grab ahold of him and reel him in by the baited hook; leaning in to kiss the uplifted corner of your mouth. blue silver strands dawn down at your shoulders, a wave of stiffness and doe overcoming your entire body. a quiet apology snaps you out of your daze, the feeling of daylight dappling heated skin becoming a familiar kiss. you think the sudden apology was strange and out of place, but your fingers entangled with his wasn’t. it was right, and perhaps a silent word of “forgiveness” that the man was grateful for, truly. what else did he realize he felt truly? his growing love for you <3.

© GEPAZU 2023.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — i feel like i should tag @lovebrushed bc she gave me the inspo for writing this (I AM SO SORRY IF U DONT LIKE THE TAG) (plus the fact there was indeed an x reader tag for lbc KBDKDHDKHD) so yea! take this as a sign of me joining the lovebrush chronicle writing fandom! KHSLSJSLSKAKS

[lil-melody-moon]

Hello dear 👋🏻👋🏻 how its going? Has your uni situation got better? For this weekend question:

Since your big love towards drummers (you know about Lars, Nicko, Keith, Bonham ecc...) I was wondering, can you describe whats so special about them? Like in terms of ability, style, and the personal influence that they had on you😄 and why so you like that instrument so much? you can make a list of your favourites if you want❤️

(Hope that this is clear🫣)

Hello!

It's going somehow good, I could rest this weekend, like yay! After two weeks of constant working!

The uni situation got better, I have the worst week behind me, but I still have two big tests and then exams *sobs*

*looks at the question* Oh God girl, you are up for a motherfucking essay...

Okay, I will tackle it this way. I will first answer on the question why I like drums so much.

This is a very simple story. My only real and first experience with music was in preschool. We had those music lessons with one older teacher, she was a very nice, older woman. We either had dancing, singing or playing with instruments, the third being most rare. I know I once or twice got my tiny hands on a simple drum, a tiny one, but I loved playing it. I didn't want to give it away, I wanted to drum - was so sad when I couldn't get it tho, but I was so glad for those two times! I remember I told my mom about it, I probably was hoping that she will catch the hint that hey, I love that instrument, can I drum? But that didn't happen and here I am, grinning like an idiot whenever I see a drum set - my friend, who works in choir sends me pics if she sees a drum set or the big big drum the ones used in orchestra (gosh I love the big BOOM of them, aaaaa!). I have that one dream and it's being able to somehow play the drums one day - if I don't find anyone, which is very likely, I'll keep living with parents, get a job in the next year, try to find a place for eventual drum set and buy it, later wondering how the fuck should I carry it around XD

And now to the drummers! I think I'll make a list of like 10 drummers and try to describe them - I will show their drum sets, of course I will show those beauties!

No. 10 - Lars Ulrich

I don't listen to Metallica at all right now, but I can't just ignore the guy, even when I heard Metallica after listening to The Who and was like: "Damn, Lars, you ain't nothing special" XD So he's always closing up the list, because I have to mention him. He was the one who made me notice drumming once more, I'll say even more, the one who made me realize that I like to hear drums. I heard him play back in 2009, so I was 11 years old and you know, you kind of don't realize a lot of things at this age, but damn does the drumming in "All Nightmare Long" kicked me in my face. Soft drumming just to make it FUCKING LOUD, not the fastest of his, but very powerful and most of all, it's louder than that fucking guitar, like yes, this is how it's suppose to be guys! But the favorite stays and will stay for all eternity, fucking "Dyers Eve". Rough drumming at the beginning, long intro, drumming slowing down just to go FUCKING NUTS THE REST OF THE WAY. I actually listen to the song I'll mention and now I'm listening to Dyers Even and I can hear those two bass drums and like only now I realize how someone else influenced my style. Here's the beauty Lars plays on:

No. 9 - Rick Allen

A very fresh drummer on this list. I've never wasn't a fan of Def Leppard, but I've finally gave them a fair chance thanks to @jimmysdragonsuit13 and I have to admit, I was wrong about them on so many levels. "Bringin' On The Heartbreak" changed it all. Drumming in this one is soft, but it still has that power Rick has in his arms while playing. See, I like when there is heard that power in hitting the drums when drummer plays. When there's power, the drumming sounds so good that I can actually lay down and fly away on a cloud, not noticing it. I have a soft spot for rhythmical guys - that's why someone is very high on the list - and Rick fills that spot just right. Plus, you know? "Switch 625" exists and if that ain't the true beauty of Rick's drumming then I don't know what is. Plus, he still slays with one arm - he sounds better than 99% of modern drummers, no I don't regret saying that. He had no influence on me, but he convinced me to the band, good for him XD And the beauty he plays on:

No. 8 - Dave Grohol

New one as well, @radioroger presented him to me again, after I forgot Nirvana existed. Then dad wanted them on his phone again and I listened and I was like: "I hear John fucking Bonham in his style" and I wasn't mistaken! Bonzo was the biggest influence for Dave and God bless for that, because Dave sounds amazing. Powerful, quick whenever he has to, the drums are the lead instrument - LIKE THEY SHOULD BE - and they're just fucking loud. His style is also very heavy, but once you get in the rhythm you just flow. The best example of his drumming for me is "Radio Friendly Unit Shifter". It's aggressive, rhythmical, very Bonzo like and I love it (the boom-boom on the bass drums <3)! No major influence, but I do remember hearing Nirvana once in a while and I already loved his drumming when I was younger. "In Bloom" being the song that convinced me to Nirvana years ago. And the beauty he plays on:

No. 7 - Jordi

I will sound very typical there, but he's new on the list, because I've never paid much attention to Slipknot in the first place. I was pushed away from them because of the clothing, but I once watched a music playlist on tv and they've played "Duality" and let me tell you, the first fucking thing when I heard Jordi's drumming was "Wait, I HEAR MOON IN THIS" and damn was I not disappointed - also guessed the influence. I've went on Spotify, listened to them and discovered "Psychosocial" and damn did my mind was fucking blown to pieces. I mean, the intro is tame for them, then soft drumming and then it's just pure aggression on drums and the power on them, omfg, mixed with the bass drums, like yes, this is how drummers should fucking play AND THE DRUMS ARE LOUDER THAN THE REST, LIKE DOUBLE YES. Not any influence, but like, I listen to Slipknot just because of Jordi. Also look at this beast of a drumset:

THIS IS A DRUMSET!

No. 6 - Cozy Powell

This guy is a madman on drums. This guy is a wonderful drummer and I can listen to him all the fucking time, this should be enough, but I will say more! We are going in the territory where I can't unglue my eyes when I see the drummer and damn is Cozy a candy to my eye when I can see him play. The way he seemed to fly on his drumset is impossible to describe and "A Light In The Black" only proves my point. Not only rhythmical, but talented to the point of composing his own songs and slaying every single one I heard so far. I'll say even more. If not Cozy, Rainbow wouldn't sound as good as it does. Seriously, the song I've linked is purely driven by Cozy's insane drumming. Not a major influence this guy, but I've discovered Rainbow and then Deep Purple thanks to him. I still like Rainbow more - Cozy, duh and Dio on vocals, no one can fucking beat that - and Cozy is somehow special to me. I think he was one of the first drummers that made me look at 70s music more seriously. And the beauty he played on:

No. 5 - Ringo Starr

Now this is the guy I mentioned earlier, that he is so high above while being a rhythmical drummer only. Now where do I start with him... Okay, maybe first of all, I'll start with this, I'll just talk about "Yellow Submarine" XD I was in a very dark place in my life a few years ago you know. Parents were painting walls in the living room, playing music and the tv station played this song. While it has a very simple drumming, I was drawn to it immediately. Asking who is it playing and all. This song actually saved my life back then, then I forgot about it and then I gave The Beatles a chance. Once I heard this song I started crying, happy that I've found the baby of a song that I've cherished so much. Then I saw the drummer and then it all went down that hill! I was listening to their records almost chronologically, until I've watched "Help!" and heard the song. You won't believe it, the small drumming part between verse and chorus was the few seconds that made me go "Ringo's GOOD". His drumming is extremely catchy, rhythmical to the point of him being the click himself, plus when I see him drumming it's just a festival of pure joy for me. He just fucking dances while playing, it's so good, you just see he has the best of fun on the drums, like, you can't have a better example of a drummer having fun in the 60s while being categorized by me as rhythmical drummer. Not a major influence, but he made a path for me to someone with the help of another drummer who will be on the list. The sweet drumset of his:

He did and still does so freaking much on this baby!

No. 4 - Buddy Rich

That guy is really really REALLY out of this list. I heard him by total accident while browsing youtube and I suddenly saw an old video of a drummer and then this:

11 minutes of pure, amazing, skilled beyond belief drumming. You have to see and hear it by yourself, it's impossible to describe what Buddy does on this freaking instrument while having such a tiny set. It's magic, pure pure magic. Not an influence at all, but I can see that he might be my starting point on to the jazz music, because if I have to find such amazing drummers likr him there, I might as well start listening to jazz.

No. 3 - Stewart Copeland

Now here's an odd one! I knew The Police for a long time, dad loves them, mom hates them and I didn't have a lot of chances to really listen to them, until the previously mentioned tv station. They've, my dear, played "Roxanne" during my fresh The Who phase and I only needed to hear the first few second of drumming before the slight pause to love it immediately. Stewart is a very skilled guy, rhythmical, chaotic, he has the fun of his life on drums, has the power to make the drums sounds soft but also smash them to give that BOOM sound I love so much. He also has the same hold of left hand on the drumstick like Buddy Rich, which makes it very easy to make quick sounds. Also the way he can keep the speed throughout the entire song? I mean, listen to "Synchronicity I", this is a drumming masterpiece, everything so well played I fucking can't but scream when I hear it. Also he's a great composer and I was so happy to recognize Copeland when I've played Spyro games and heard the soundtrack. I also bought The Police concert on DVD lately and finally could see him on stage - he's so focused on his work and it gives wonderful results. I wish the camera was focused on him more, I would DIE to see him all the time on stage, his work on stage IS INSANE. Not any influence from him, he just passed along, pulled me by my ear and let me listen to him in peace XD And here the beauty of his:

No. 2 - John Bonham

Now where the fuck do I start with him? I mean it almost seems like he came to me in the right time, in the right moment, literally wrapping his arm around my shoulders and saying: "I'll help ya with your troubles and will show you something" and it was also when I heard "In My Time Of Dying" as a whole for the first time in my life. I did listen to Led Zeppelin in chronological order, went nuts when I heard "Moby Dick", first drum solo I've heard in my life, but "In My Time Of Dying" convinced me that Bonzo is the guy for me in this band. The power in his arms is incredible, you can hear it in his playing, rhythmical, chaotic, you name it. He could go and play at insane speeds, and this song is a perfect example of John playing slowly, just to speed up and freaking thrash on the drums at the very end. He was a major influence for me, Led Zeppelin being the band that kind of started my obsession with music, "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You" being the first song that really hit where it should. I also don't know what's it with the sound of his drumset, but you only have to listen to it for a while and you know it's this bear behind the drum kit, killing it in every second of the song. AND GOD DON'T LET ME START ABOUT LIVE VERSIONS OF MOBY DICK. I can blast this shit for full 30 minutes without a single fuck given, I love his playing so much. He made me love the raw sound of drums and also made me realize that drums should be on the first place in music, not a background noise that is creating rhythm for the band. No, that is fucking boring. You gotta made them SOUND good, you can't just sit and play the rhythm and use all of the power you have in your arms and legs to play them. I also think Bonzo caused my ears to become so used to drumming that I'm not bothered by how loud they are. And honestly good, because like I've already mentioned while talking about Ringo, John was the second guy who made a path for me to someone... For now, his beautiful drumset:

No. 1 - Keith Moon

You knew he will be there, there couldn't be anyone else. Let's skip back to the story about the lonely drum at preschool I told you about. I kept the instrument dear to my heart, listening to various music, but there was a day when I've stepped into the living room when my mom was watching the original CSI series. I've stepped when the outro was playing and you know, 10 years old me was like "What is that? Can I stay?" and then I heard the intro. That day was the one that made me be obsessed with drumming. I heard Keith Moon drumming at that day and only now, when I started listening to them I've realized that this fucking drunkard is responsible for my drumming obsession. This was an instant impact, I loved the intro so much, along with the two others that I watched the series just to hear the music. Parents knew the band but they didn't play it to me, until I've discovered them again, and then again, and then in the last year for the last time, to become who I am now. An insane fucking loon about Keith Moon.

His drumming style is the base for me to look at other drummers. It's the most chaotic, artsy, insane, mad driven playing I adore with my whole soul and body. "Who Are You" being the first song I heard by The Who, still feeling very nostalgic for it. "Bell Boy" being the prime example for me how drums should sound like. Loud, insane, overtaking the whole fucking song, because this is the main instrument, bass, guitar and any other being the side ones, even the vocals being treated like a part of background noise that tries to overscream the drumming. Ya just listen to the part before the chorus - also sang by Keith - to hear how loud the drumming is, especially in the second part of the song.

Also his playing style. Mad, insane, all over the place, self taught, powerful, destructive even - those are the best qualities that a drummer can get. If a drummer can go to the drumset and destroy it with his playing power? Yes, that is what I'm talking about. Smash it to pieces because you have this much power in your arms and legs and you're giving it all.

And the path that I kept mentioning, led to him. John Bonham pulled me into older music, Ringo Starr convinced me to older music, then John took my hand and pushed me into Keith's direction, where I've found what I lost at childhood, so the most influential musician for me without who I'm a shell of myself.

And now, the beast of the beautiful drumset he had:

[burning-academia-if]

I'm so sorry for all the notifications lmao I'm going around liking every ask because i haven't been on the page for a bit. And why the fuck is all the asks making me like Lars. I don't want to like Lara because Lara doesn't want to like my MC.. i already have enough problems with Rook 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

I need to stay away from these problematic ROs. 😭

Oh quessssstiiioooon someone's probably asked this before but I've seen it on a few blogs. But since magic is obvs a thing. If someone cursed MC or gave them something that could only be broken by true love's kiss (especially since mc doesn't really have the healthiest relationship with those they are close to so who would think they could break a spell like that)

and it's after they've confessed to the ROs. How would they react to MC not waking up at first after they kissed them... but waking up after they've started having a major meltdown after all?

If you have gotten this ask could i please have a link because finding anything on tumblr is... 😒

And i literally fall in love with this goddamn IF every time i read anything on this page. It's a curse in itself... I hope you have a lovely weekend 🤣😇💜

Omg never apologize for mass liking, that's literally anyone on Tumblr's lifeblood lol

Also you know, I feel like Lars, despite being the biggest asshole of the ROs, is still less of a handful then Rook lmfaO good luck with dealing with them!

Also I have not been asked this one before! Felt very inspired it with, so I turned it into a prompt!

Rook:

            You’re so still against the touch of his lips. You’re still even after he pulls away. His chest buzzes so loud it echoes in his ears. You don’t move, not even the flutter of your lashes and he should have known. How can he be your true love, when he spent so many years running away?

            Whoever it is, would look you in the eyes when you said you loved them. They’re someone who would have taken you in their arms instead of turning away again and again. He sinks to his knees, hands clutching at the side of the bed where you lay. Tears burn at his eyes, but not a single one falls.

            Even before he made this foolish decision, he knew. All that’s left is to find the one could wake up. If you’re life lays in the hands of someone else, a fact he always knew, then so be it.

            He’ll let you go, like he should have so long ago. He will. He just needs another moment here with you before he turns away. He needs to hear your heartbeat and the cadence of your breathing for one last time.

            Time passes as slow as honey, thick and opaque. His body is listless. In the silence, your breath catches and he blinks. Turns. You take another shaky breath, and when your eyes open, he’s on his feet.

            “MC!” He gathers you in his arms, holding on tight. “Oh, thank god. I thought I lost you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

            His forehead falls against your shoulder, and the tears finally fall. Your awake, your body is warm. And maybe, just maybe, he really does have a chance to make things right.

Beck:

            When you don’t move after he pulls away, he doesn’t waver. Magic is strange, it can effect everyone differently, and with how much magic has affected you, he isn’t concerned that there isn’t an immediate response.

            Instead, he takes a seat next to where you lay. He brings his knees up to his chest and tells you about all the things you’ve missed. The first flowers of spring, the new used bookstore that opened up on the corner, school events, and class drama.

            The time ticks down, and it pricks at his heart. He keeps talking. About himself, about his life, about how he first fell for you, about how you are the warmth of the fire on a winter day, and if even if he isn’t your true love, then that’s ok. He’s just so glad he was able to have any time with you at all.

            At some point, his throat is dry and he’s run out of words. What can he say, as the sky turns a dusty orange. He swallows, eyes fluttering closed and feel the first of the tears fall. If it isn’t him to wake you up, then who will it be? And how long will you be cursed to sleep until they find you?

            A world without your laugh is far worse than a world where the two of you aren’t meant to be.

            Then.

            You shift beside him, and he goes still. When he looks, he sees your eyes flutter open, eyebrows furrowing as you look at him.

            “…You’re awake.” He says, voice barely above a whisper. He brushes his fingers against your cheek, so impossibly gently. “You’re awake.”

            He laughs, a watery, trembly sort of laugh, as he runs a thumb against your cheek. You’ll still be with him.

Rhea:

            “Please wake up.” She whispers, kneeling next to you. There is no sign the kiss did anything. It’s fine, this isn’t the end of the world. She has had the logic of magic seared into her brain, and she knows how it works. She’ll wait. She can wait.

            But still, you remain still. She gets up and moves around, to give her body something to do as she waits. She’s not good at that, waiting. She always needs to be in the midst of doing something. Making progress. When something’s out of her hands like this, she feels like she’s in freefall.

            There might be a chance, she thinks as time ticks by, that you and her aren’t the ones for each other. Somehow, it makes the anxious energy in her gut easier to deal with. As long as she doesn’t think of the heartbreak that will hit the moment she leaves your side, it gives her a plan. Something to work towards. Steps to map out to figure out where to go from here and how to wake you up. The process of even finding the one who could do so.

            She’s on step four when your fingers twitch. She goes still in response. All her thoughts scatter. Like a deer in headlights she watches you, wondering if it was just her imagination. But then your body shifts and she’s next to you again, softly calling your name.

            “MC? Can you…can you hear me darling?” When you blink away, she feels a smile bloom despite herself. You’re awake and well and still hers.

Zoe:

            There’s doubt in their chest even before they press a kiss against your lips. For it to be them? They’re not the kind of person who makes it into fairytales. They know this. Stories are the sort of thing they’ve studied their entire life. They exist on the other side of the glass, able to peer in but never able to be.

            As you remain still, they stand and lean back on their heel. Whoever your true love is, it isn’t them. It isn’t that they doubt your love, but it’s hard to imagine that kind of forever for them. If this was the fate they were dealt, then so be it. And even so, you were their first love, and that’s a kind of special whatever comes next can’t take away. Even on different paths, even living different lives, you can both still be a fond memory for the other.

            But god, they’ve never experience heartbreak either or the way it collides into their body and leaves them breathless. They wanted this. Every moment with you was a dream they never thought they’d get a chance to see. They were awkward and clumsy, and they were the luckiest person alive to have been able to met you.

            They press a hand against their mouth, to stop the sob that’s trying to break through them. The image of you blurs as tears collect in their eyes and stream down their cheeks. They squeeze their eyes shut, trying to collect themselves.

            It’s why it startles them, when they feel a hand reaching out, “…Zoe?”

            They choke on a gasp, eyes flying open to see you awake. You’ve pulled yourself up, and your eyes are open. It strikes them so suddenly, they all but throw themselves against you. Any embarrassment they used to feel is gone. They’ll never let themselves hesitate again.

Lars:

            “You would get yourself cursed.” He whispered against your lips as he pulls away. He doesn’t believe in true love or soulmates. For a curse to be based on the concept, it must make it the flimsiest curse to have been made. All it really needs is love and faith and stubbornness. Maybe his faith is lacking, but he sure as hell can make up for it with stubbornness.

            So he waits. He leans his head back, closes his eyes, and wonders how long it will take. His hand toys with your fingers absently. With you asleep, you won’t be able to comment on the display. He still remembers when you said you loved him, the look in your eyes that left no room for doubt. He thought you were making a terrible decision, but he wasn’t one to complain. Your terrible decision, just lead to his great decision to go along with it.

            The time passes slow, but the anxiety never comes. That isn’t who he is. Not when he’s sure about this, or at least more sure about it then whatever magic was used on you. And even if the kiss doesn’t wake you up, he’ll just find whoever cursed you in the first place and make them reap the consequences.

            When he feels your hand move, slipping your fingers between his, he sighs, “About time you got up.”

            “Lars? My hand—”

            “Don’t get used to it.” You laugh, the sound scratchy from sleep, and he feels his body relax. It was nice to have you back.

???:

            They know your souls are too entwined to have a doubt. That doesn’t not mean there won’t be blood on their hands for what was done to you. How dare someone curse the one they love. How dare someone put their hands on you.

            They’re kiss is so painfully soft despite the violent rage in their chest. It’s been so long since they’ve felt this burning under their skin. Did the Curse Giver think you were alone and unloved? Did they not realize you had someone who was entwined with you in every way, down to the way you take a breath.

            The wraiths flicker around them, agitated by the tremble in their body. They keep close to you, body curved as a way to shield you from the rest of the earth. If you don’t wake soon, they’re hands will find a blade, and that blade will find a body. The wraiths whisper amongst each other, as though capable of soothing them.

            “But you were cursed even before this, weren’t you?” They breathe, pressing another kiss to your forehead. You shift beneath them, and when they pull away you open your eyes.

            You say their name, and the sound of it wraps around them. They have a Curse Giver to kill, but for now, they only lay down beside you, and ask if you’re ok. You’ve been asleep for so long, and it took too long to get to you. They’ll never be late again.

[strooparfait]

I feel so embarrassed asking this…😖

I love the Lars/Lee writings you post and I was hoping you could write about Lee asking Lars to be more rough and aggressive with him. Maybe it could include some teasing, degrading or name calling?

It can be however you want!

thank you for your request!! i actually had something more in mind than this one that i made but that idea was taking a toll in my brain bcs i'm most likely gonna make it harder for myself bcs i ended up writing way too much. hope you enjoy anon! <3

summary: Lee thought he had the upper hand. He does not. 

word count: 616

content warning(s): lee chaolan has a pussy, riding, vaginal sex

Lee had been riding Lars on his expensive chair. Lee’s office that they stayed in reeked with the smell of sex and cum, which probably would take hours of work in restoring it back to its normal scent of lavender. 

Puffs of breath came out of both of their open mouths, and a sigh of pleasure was heard by Lars. He tried to get out of the handcuffs restraining him from touching the silver-haired man but almost let go of the chain when Lee started to bounce on him again, striking even more pleasure into his cock inside of Lee. The pulsing warmth from the other’s vagina made Lars feel fire pooling low in their abdomen. 

The view in front of him was a delight, almost a prize to him. Lee’s usual combed hair, now messy, was sticking to his sweaty forehead. His walnut brown eyes were slightly hazed and dilated, and pale cheeks showed a light pink colour of blush. Sometimes Lars couldn’t believe that such a beautiful man existed and was his. 

After a couple of minutes of Lee bouncing on the commander’s length, Lars decided to help him. He moved his upper body forward to lean against the other and started to lay kisses over his body. His handcuffed hands were still restraining him, which usually was used in gripping Lee’s small slutty waist, so the only other thing Lars could do was thrusted his cock from below, which earned him a choked gasp. 

Seeing the reaction, the desire of touching the beauty rised up even more in Lars, and his hands worked even harder in getting out of the handcuffs while pleasuring his lover who had his back arched. He was too focused on unrestraining himself that he didn’t realise Lee’s arms circled his neck. The silver-haired man leaned to his ear. “You can do better than this, no?” Lars stopped for a while, registering Lee’s words in his head. 

Lee teasingly pouted, “I don’t know about you, but other men could fuck me harder than this.” 

Lars saw red. With a sighed breath and regained strength, he broke out of the handcuffs, startling Lee who was shocked he could get out of it without help. His now free hands grabbed Lee’s hips, stopping him from bouncing further, and slammed him onto his desk without letting go of their connection below. Leaning forward to bite on the beauty’s nape, Lars lowly growled. 

“Better shut that mouth before I put it into work.”

Lee who wasn’t given time to process what the other had done was forced to brace himself for the fucking of a lifetime. Lars pulled out his dick from Lee’s pussy slowly, which let out a whine from the other, and not long after he slammed back in, resulting in Lee scrambling for anything to hold. The silver-haired’s body shook from the pleasure and cried out Lars’ name. 

“Please, Lars- Go harder!” Lee could feel wet –tears– pooling under his eyes. Despite being pretty harsh just a few seconds ago, Lars heeded his lover’s request and hammered his length into him, both of them drowning in pleasure. 

Lee felt overwhelmed by how hard Lars was fucking him. His teary eyes rolled back, back arched beautifully making their chests touched, he felt light-headed. He continuously mewled, and his arms that now surrounded Lars’ back scratched on it, decorating them with red scratches and moons from his fingernails. 

They went on until a few hours later after Lars finally finished whereas Lee had already fell asleep after he had came multiple times over the course of them fucking. 

. . .

“What’s wrong, Chao?”

“What you did yesterday was hot. Could you do it again?”

© strooparfait.