lilmacabe
Liv19Texas
10 posts
Latest Posts by lilmacabe
Okay final Houston post but I made it on Metallica.com.
(I'm the girl in the white top in the bottom right)
Best night of my life
Yesss!! I love it 😊
PART 3 WHOOOOOOOOOO
im surprised yall like my writing so much it means a lot to me
cws: p in v, still continuing with the dub/non con themes, oral, threat at the end (idk if that constitutes a warning)
this part is mainly focused on James, and then pt 4 will be Lars/Kirk, idk they js have a partnership dynamic, and then pt 5 will be Rob :3
My legs shook from the overstimulation, tears running down my cheeks, stinging and soothing my flushed face. I laid in a puddle of my own sweat, blood, and cum, contorting to not touch the sticky mixture under me.
James' left hand still supported my head, softly rubbing my scalp.
"Such a good girl for us," he cooed as he marveled at my mess.
Lars knelt over the bag, using a small cloth to clean the vibrator.
"Please..." My voice wavered.
"What do you need angel?" James asked.
When I couldn't muster up the energy to make a coherent thought, I noticed the hand on my left leg leave. I looked up and found Rob circling the table to kneel down in between my legs.
"Noo..."
"We know what you need sweetheart."
I steeled myself as I felt his tongue trail down my thigh, cleaning he skin, making a line through the mess. He spared no time cleaning my sore cunt. I whined as he made me cum for the nth time.
"Jesus dude keep her fucking conscious," Kirk laughed. I could feel Robert's lips curl up in a smile against my thigh before standing up.
James' hand was replaced with Lars' as he took Robert's place.
"Alright ladies, step aside, I'll show you how tuh' fuck a virgin,"
Kirk cocked his eyebrow.
"Did I miss the meeting where we agreed that you would be the first one to put his dick in her?"
"Y'know, the longer this conversation lasts, the longer your dick stays in your pants."
Kirk rolled his eyes before stepping back and setting his hand back on my thigh, rubbing gently.
James undid his belt before unzipping his pants, opening them just enough to pull his length out. Jesus fucking Christ. This is gonna hurt. I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible, but I knew I was failing judging by the look on James' face. His smug grin made me shudder and I fought hard against the hands pinning me to table.
"Please! Please no! Anything but that!" I had found my voice again, although scratchy and painful.
I thrashed so hard all four of them had to use both hands to keep me from rocking the table. I tired myself out after a few minutes, but still lay sobbing, jerking every now and then to loosen myself from their iron grips.
"7 orgasms and she's still fighting it." 3 sets of eyes landed on James, their owners regaining their composure and sweating from the effort. He leaned over me; I could feel his hard-on press against my stomach as he whispered,
"C'mon baby, you know you want it. Just lay back and relax. We'll take care of you." He said the last sentence aloud, pulling away, trailing his hands along my sides.
"How 'bout this darlin'. I'll be nice and gentle if you do something for me."
He took my silence as intrigue. He nodded slightly and continued.
"You're gonna call me sir if you don't want this pretty lil cunt split in half."
AHHHHHH!! I've been waiting for this
PART 3 WHOOOOOOOOOO
im surprised yall like my writing so much it means a lot to me
cws: p in v, still continuing with the dub/non con themes, oral, threat at the end (idk if that constitutes a warning)
this part is mainly focused on James, and then pt 4 will be Lars/Kirk, idk they js have a partnership dynamic, and then pt 5 will be Rob :3
My legs shook from the overstimulation, tears running down my cheeks, stinging and soothing my flushed face. I laid in a puddle of my own sweat, blood, and cum, contorting to not touch the sticky mixture under me.
James' left hand still supported my head, softly rubbing my scalp.
"Such a good girl for us," he cooed as he marveled at my mess.
Lars knelt over the bag, using a small cloth to clean the vibrator.
"Please..." My voice wavered.
"What do you need angel?" James asked.
When I couldn't muster up the energy to make a coherent thought, I noticed the hand on my left leg leave. I looked up and found Rob circling the table to kneel down in between my legs.
"Noo..."
"We know what you need sweetheart."
I steeled myself as I felt his tongue trail down my thigh, cleaning he skin, making a line through the mess. He spared no time cleaning my sore cunt. I whined as he made me cum for the nth time.
"Jesus dude keep her fucking conscious," Kirk laughed. I could feel Robert's lips curl up in a smile against my thigh before standing up.
James' hand was replaced with Lars' as he took Robert's place.
"Alright ladies, step aside, I'll show you how tuh' fuck a virgin,"
Kirk cocked his eyebrow.
"Did I miss the meeting where we agreed that you would be the first one to put his dick in her?"
"Y'know, the longer this conversation lasts, the longer your dick stays in your pants."
Kirk rolled his eyes before stepping back and setting his hand back on my thigh, rubbing gently.
James undid his belt before unzipping his pants, opening them just enough to pull his length out. Jesus fucking Christ. This is gonna hurt. I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible, but I knew I was failing judging by the look on James' face. His smug grin made me shudder and I fought hard against the hands pinning me to table.
"Please! Please no! Anything but that!" I had found my voice again, although scratchy and painful.
I thrashed so hard all four of them had to use both hands to keep me from rocking the table. I tired myself out after a few minutes, but still lay sobbing, jerking every now and then to loosen myself from their iron grips.
"7 orgasms and she's still fighting it." 3 sets of eyes landed on James, their owners regaining their composure and sweating from the effort. He leaned over me; I could feel his hard-on press against my stomach as he whispered,
"C'mon baby, you know you want it. Just lay back and relax. We'll take care of you." He said the last sentence aloud, pulling away, trailing his hands along my sides.
"How 'bout this darlin'. I'll be nice and gentle if you do something for me."
He took my silence as intrigue. He nodded slightly and continued.
"You're gonna call me sir if you don't want this pretty lil cunt split in half."
Photos from last night in Houston + the picks I got from Rex Brown and Kirk + Kirk's setlist
Teach Me How
To Love You
Request: James is a Viking who marries a Christian girl struggling to fit into his village. Isolated and sad, she can't connect with the other women. To comfort her, one night he takes her to the river; he watches her have fun, and a moment of tension arises between them.
Warnings: unprotected sex, mention of human sacrifices.
The memory of how you arrived in that village is hazy, like a dream shattered by screams, smoke, and blood. The church around you was burning, flames devouring the nave as desperate cries tore through the sacred silence. And then, him: a Viking warrior. His name was James. He stood as tall as a tree, his blue eyes as deep as a stormy sea, his skin marked by the scars of war. He tore you from the grip of death, lifted you from the ground like a feather, and carried you away — far from your village, from your home — hurling you into a world that wasn’t yours. A foreign world. A world forever changed.
In the months following your arrival in that Viking village, you struggled with yourself. You would have rather died in those flames than survived among the pagans. Every night, you prayed to your God, begging for the strength to escape. But escape never came. You were alone in a hostile land, and you knew there was no way out.
You were married after just a few months, without truly understanding why. To him, perhaps, you were a trophy taken in battle. To you, he was an enigma — a wall of silent strength and detachment. Speaking to him was a struggle; language and customs separated you like unscalable walls.
At first, you hated James with all your being. He embodied everything you had been taught to fear: a brute, a pagan, a warrior who smelled of iron, blood, and earth. You, a Christian girl raised to the sound of church bells and Sunday sermons with a devoted family, found yourself uprooted from your life and thrown into hell.
When James returned home from the village, you sensed his presence before you even saw him: a massive shadow moving between the walls, a silence that filled the room. His voice — when he spoke — was calm but commanding, stern without ever raising its tone, firm in its stillness. He often claimed you in a harsh, almost brutal way, but over time, you had learned to trust him. For all his roughness, he had never hurt you with intent. That was simply his nature. And though fear never fully left you, you had begun to understand him.
Every morning you woke in his home, surrounded by rough walls and unfamiliar smells, but day by day, those edges softened. That refuge, which at first had felt like a prison, was slowly teaching you what it meant to feel protected.
Outside, however, was another story. Eyes followed you everywhere: judging, distrustful, sometimes mocking. The village women ignored you, laughed behind your back. You felt like a stray dog. Lonely. A foreigner.
James saw it. You could tell by the way he looked for you with his eyes, how he moved silently beside you as you walked among the people. He said nothing, never intervened. Yet his mere presence brought you a strange comfort — rough, but real.
One evening, while cutting bread on a coarse wooden table, you turned suddenly, tired of the silence that felt like complicity.
“Why don’t you say anything when they insult me?” you asked, staring him in the eyes. “The women… they laugh at me. They treat me like I’m dirty. And you… you just stand there. Watching.”
James looked at you for a long time. Slowly, he set down the bowl he was holding.
“Because I can’t fight all your battles,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Here, if you don’t stand up for yourself, you get crushed. If you want to survive in this world, you have to learn to fend for yourself.”
Your gaze dropped, wounded. But he wasn’t finished.
“I will never leave you alone. If there’s real danger, I’ll be there. Always. But words… wounds that don’t bleed… those you have to face yourself. You must become strong. Stronger than them.” Silence fell over the room again, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t a wall. It was a bridge. For the first time, perhaps, you had heard in that rough voice something that resembled care.
Slowly, something changed after the celebrations of Sígrblót, the festival marking the beginning of summer. That evening, you had been left alone once again, sitting by the window, silently watching the village women laugh, naked, by the river. They were drunk, free, unafraid of the male gazes that lingered on them with open desire. You had realized that fear was a concept foreign to these people.
There were many things you hated about their customs: human sacrifices, their thirst for blood and conquest, their gods—but there was also something, reluctantly, that fascinated you. That wild freedom. That deep connection with nature. That untamed strength. Without realizing it, you had thought that, just once, you’d like to feel like them. Without shame. Without fear.
Sitting in the silence of the wooden house, hands clenched in your lap, your thoughts washed over you like cold rain.
When everyone had moved away from the river to continue the celebrations, James returned. He looked at you, and there was no need for words: he knew. It was as if, for the first time, he truly saw your sadness.
“Come.” His deep, low voice pulled you from your thoughts.
You were afraid—around him, you never knew what might happen. You didn’t know him well enough. You only knew that the few times he had taken you, he had been rough, violent, and had often left behind wounds on your soul that were hard to forget.
You followed him hesitantly, barefoot through the cold grass. You didn’t know where he was leading you until you heard the murmur of water.
The river.
“Go” he said, pointing to the dark water. “It’s all for you.”
You walked toward the bank, turned to look at him. He was sitting on a rock, legs apart, relaxed. His gaze fixed on you—serious, but not hostile. He didn’t force you. He waited. As if he just wanted to give back something he had taken. As if he wanted to start over.
You don’t speak. You slip off your robe, feel his gaze on you, and dive in, holding your breath. The water wraps around you—icy and alive. It glides over your skin like a blessing. And you… you laugh. Without thinking, without even realizing it. You find yourself swimming, moving gracefully through the moonlit reflections. You feel lighter than you have in months.
You turn toward him. He hasn’t moved. But now he’s looking at you differently. Not with possession, but with wonder.
“What is it?” you ask softly.
“It’s the first time I’ve seen you laugh,” he says, his tone light.
“Don’t you swim?” you ask, trying to bridge the distance.
James undresses, standing completely naked on the shore, and you look at him as if you’ve never really seen him before: the tattoos, the scars, the body shaped by a warrior’s harsh life. For the first time, you feel drawn to him—you see him in a different light.
He steps into the water and comes closer.
“You… you’re beautiful” he says after a moment of silence.
His words catch you off guard—it’s the first compliment he’s ever given you. You feel yourself blush for no reason and look at him in disbelief.
The moon casts shadows across his face, and for a moment he seems like a different man. Not the warrior who destroyed your world, but a soul searching for redemption.
“I don’t know how to treat you” he murmurs, his voice low, rough and for the first time, you hear uncertainty in his words.
You move closer—the water binding you like a thin border between the past and something that could become something else. You take his hand and guide it to your face, then to your neck.
“I can teach you.” Your words hang in the silence.
He nods, eyes locked on yours, and lets you teach him. Lets you show him where he can touch, how gently he can explore you.
You kiss him gently at the corner of his mouth. He stays still, and when the kiss deepens and your tongues meet, he lets out a soft moan. It’s the first time you kiss like this, usually your encounters are fleeting, superficial, but not this time. This time, you take your time, and he respects that.
Your hand moves to the back of his neck and tangles in his long, wheat-colored hair.
You feel a passion you’ve never known take hold of you, and he senses it. He pulls you close, firmly but not roughly, lifting you by your buttocks so you can wrap your legs around his waist.
Your breath mingles with the sound of the water. Words are no longer needed. Only glances, sighs, and slow gestures.
You take his hand and bring it to your breast. The same large, rough hand that always frightened you, that made you fear the worst every time he came home drunk after some victory celebration—now touches you with unexpected care and tenderness.
He teases your hardened, sensitive nipple with his thumb, then cups your breast as if it were something precious, delicate, and unique.
For the first time, you’re not afraid. You’re hungry, you crave to truly feel him.
He learns to love you. Every breath you take becomes a guide. Every stifled moan, a lesson.
“Am I hurting you?” he asks feeling your breath catch in your throat as he pushes into you, slow but deep, stretching you open. “No… keep going.. slow" you let yourself go letting him take you, completely, fully.
The water surrounds you, and your moans are swallowed by his mouth, passionate and ravenous. He kisses you hard, biting your lip, then trails down your neck, dragging his tongue across your skin as his hips grind into yours with aching precision, letting you feel how hard he is, how much he needs your body, how deeply he wants to know you.
Soon after you're spread wide open for him on the damp grass of the riverbank and there everything becomes more intense. James holds you tightly against him, pressing you against his chest, and you cling to him nails digging them into his back—you want to feel him completely, to savor every sensation for the first time. His movements are so intense and deep that they make you feel dizzy, and you experience a feeling never felt before—a warmth that radiates from your core throughout your body, sending waves of pleasure that make you moan like never before. James senses what’s happening inside you; the way your muscles contract around him, pulling him deeper. His voice, low and gravelly, brushes against your ear, “Do you like it like this?” A shiver runs through you at the heat of his words.
“Y-yes, don’t stop… please” you gasp, every syllable laced with need.
His gaze darkens like that of a wolf on the hunt, and for a moment you feel scared but excited at the same time. With one hand, he grips your throat, making you lose your breath, unexpectedly heightening your pleasure that crashes inside you like a wave.
His eyes get lost in yours, and when he completely lets go inside you, filling you with his seed, you realize you’re falling in love with that gaze, rough, intense, animalistic, yet at the same time devoted.
As you lie naked on the ground, his body shielding you from the cold, you feel a sense of peace. You feel seen—not as a trophy, but as a woman.
“I want you to teach me how to love you, I want you to forgive me” he says, almost whispering close to your ear.
You look at him, running your fingers over the scar on his chest and then moving your hand up to his face. You had never really noticed his rugged, true beauty until that moment.
“I… hated you” you say. Your voice trembles, but you say it anyway.
“You took me away. You took everything from me.”
He nods. He doesn’t justify himself. He doesn’t say “I’m sorry.” But he listens.
“Why did you marry me?” you continue, almost surprised by your own words.
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to sell me as a slave and marry a woman from your village?” You almost hesitate to see his reaction, but now you can’t turn back.
“Because if I hadn’t, they probably would have sacrificed you, and I didn’t want that” he replies calmly, trying to pronounce the words clearly so you can understand.
“And because you have kind eyes that captured me from the moment I saw you terrified that day… you awakened something in me.”
You remain silent, overwhelmed by his words, feeling a warm tear slowly slide down your cheek. The thought of what could have happened to you shakes you. James notices your confusion, and fear, he takes the bear fur he used to wear as a cloak, and gently covers you.
“You are safe with me now.” He says, voice low, barely above a whisper. But it lands like a promise etched in stone.
And for the first time, you believe him.
Jealousy
NSFW 17+
You had been friends with James as long as you could remember, but one detail you never shared with him was how you lost your virginity (consider this an apology for bullying James so much recently)
Warnings: Smut, cursing, James being a little shit, him also scaring you a little, grammar mistakes Word count: 3k
✭-----------------------------✭
Tonight was a typical night after one of the band's very loud, energetic shows, and like always, there was an even louder and even more chaotic after-party. By now, it had died down mostly, and you sat around a table with your childhood best friend, James, and his bandmates. Somehow, the conversation had gotten to the topic of how everyone had lost their virginity.
“I don't think you've ever told me how you lost yours,” James says, looking over at you as he casually sips his beer. He sat leaned back and relaxed in his chair, a small buzz flushed over his features.
“No, I haven't,” You reply simply, a small smile tugging on your lips as you fiddle with your own, now-empty beer bottle.
“Oh, come on, spill it. It can't be nearly as bad as mine, you knew how Kathy was…,” James snorts, shaking his head in disbelief as he thinks about his first experience.
“No, it wasn't bad, it was actually really good…I've just never told you,” You tell him, grinning over at him as you remember the night.
“And why not? Scared I'll make fun of you for who it was?” James snickers, mirroring your grin.
“Nope, you'll absolutely fucking hate who it was,” James gives you a look, now even more curious than before.
“Who?” He asks, leaning forward a little as he abandons his beer. You think for a second, wondering if you should really tell him before smiling widely and looking him straight in the eyes.
“Mustain.” You snicker, James' face immediately drops, and he leans back in his chair again, staring at you in complete disbelief. You look over to see Lars burst out laughing at your answer.
“Mustain? Seriously?? That asshole?!!” James practically groans, still looking at you like you just killed his dog.
“Yeah, I remember it all pretty clearly, honestly, still the best sex I've ever had.” You grin, deciding to egg him on, knowing just how much he despises the redhead.
“Oh yeah? How come?” He grits through his teeth, his jaw clenching.
“Well, after you guys kicked him out of the band, he came straight to the house we were all living in. Asked him why he was back and he told me everything, assumed he was just gonna collect his stuff but nope…he decided he wanted to fuck the absolute shit out of me right on your bed,” You tell the story to the whole table, Lars and Kirk laughing the whole time while James sits fuming in his chair. His hand was gripping his beer bottle so tightly that you thought it might explode.
“On my bed?” He questions, his face red with anger. You snicker a little before you decide to keep going.
“Oh yeah, we went at it practically the whole night, made such a mess of your sheets I couldn't wash them and had to just replace them. I'm surprised you didn't notice when you got back….God, I couldn't walk straight for a week.” James continues to glare at you before taking a long sip of his nearly cracked beer bottle and then slamming it down on the table.
“Welp, we're gonna go,” Lars says through a snicker, wrapping his arm around Kirk's shoulders as they feel the tension that was starting to grow. As they get up and leave, you realize they were the last people in the house. The party had subsided, leaving only you and James in the mess of bottles and cans.
“We should probably clean up a little,” You say, glancing around the disaster of a house and standing up from your seat. James stays in his place, his knuckles white as he continues to grip his bottle, his breathing ragged. You knew he'd be upset, but you didn't think it'd get to this point. He looked like he wanted to rip your head off, and it honestly scared you. You went to step away from the table, but his heavy hand gripped your wrist tightly, making you stay.
“James,” You say quietly, your wrist wiggling a little to try and escape his grasp, but he only tightened it, to the point it was starting to hurt.
“All that true or were you just saying it to piss me off?” He asks, his voice low as he glares up at you, pulling you closer by your wrist.
“It's true…maybe a little exaggerated but mostly true,” You say quietly. James stood up, towering over you like always, making your heart leap to your throat. You fucked up, you thought, definitely fucked up and he was about to kill you.
“You're hurting me,” You tell him, trying to move your wrist again. His grip falters slightly, but it was still tight enough that you couldn't escape.
“You've got a way of pushing my buttons, you know that, always have. It's like you enjoy pissing me off,” James grits through his teeth. He sets his beer bottle down before gripping your other wrist, pinning you between him and the table. You were sweating at this point, unsure of what was to come next. You had pissed him off plenty of times but it had never gotten to a point where you were scared of what he would do. You avoided his gaze, your breathing starting to pick up.
“I'm sorry, James, I was just joking around…” You say softly, he pushes himself further against you, and that's when you feel it. Right against your leg was something undeniably hard and horny. You felt your cheeks heat up as you glanced up at him to see a sly look on his face.
“Said you couldn't walk straight for a week after him, yeah? I'll make sure you can't walk at all,” He lowers his face next to your ear, his words low, his tone threatening. You wiggle in his grasp again, cheeks burning at his voice in your ear.
“Is that what you want?” He asks, his lips grazing your neck as if he were already teasing you. You think for a second, heart racing in your chest before you slowly nod. He pulls back a little, grabbing your chin so that you look at him.
“Use your words, Birdie,” There it was, that damn nickname he called you growing up and still does, just the same way you still call him Jamie. You swore your legs became jelly the second he said it.
“Yeah,” You breathe out, nodding your head again. He gives you a small smirk, pinning you even further against the table, his boner prominent against your leg.
“Yeah, what?” He asks with a small grin, playing with you. You let out a small huff, giving him a bit of an annoyed look, which causes him to squeeze your chin tightly. Suddenly, you felt shyer than you ever had around him as you tried to speak your request.
“...fuck me,” You say quietly, cheeks on fire as you see the smile that spreads across his face.
“Fuck you till…” He decides to drag it out even further, enjoying the feeling of tormenting you.
“I can't walk,” You practically squeak out. He moves his hands from your wrist and chin and places them on your waist, his hands shoving under your shirt and drinking in the feeling of your skin.
“You sure?” He asks sincerely, giving you a genuine look, but that doesn't stop his hands from wandering further up your skin.
“Yeah,” You say again, looking up at him. You place your own hands on his waist, your fingers gripping the loops of his jeans. He gives you another grin before leaning down again, pressing his lips harshly against yours. He tasted like the beer he had been drinking all night and smelled like the aftershave he often used. His hands roughly grip your waist before easily hoisting you up onto the table. He moves his lips to your cheek before placing them against your neck, his lips and tongue attacking your skin, his teeth nipping lightly.
You lean your head back, a soft moan escaping your lips, and you feel something start to pool between your legs. Your hands reach for his shirt, pulling it out of the waistband of his tight jeans, allowing your hands to feel their way up his soft abs. His hands grip your waist tightly, his skin shivering under your gentle touch.
“Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?” He says in your ear, more of a statement than a question. He pulls away from your neck and rests his forehead against yours, looking at you with lust-filled eyes.
“Just as long as I have…”You reply, your hand grazing the straining fabric in the front of his jeans. He lets out a soft noise, one you wouldn't expect from a man with a shell like his. He takes a moment to just quietly look at you, his bleary, drunken eyes roaming over the features on your face. A small smile spreads across his features as he realizes you're doing the same.
“Stop staring and kiss me,” He demands softly, pulling you a little closer. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and envelope his lips in a too-wet and too-toothy kiss, but neither of you care. He wraps his arms tightly around your frame, pulling your front against his, your faces squished together as your saliva mixes. It was a desperate action, one that had been built up and hidden under layers for years. One that had always been longed for but pushed away in fear. It all spilled over as James quickly swiped away anything that was on the table and pushed you back, crawling onto it himself and pressing his body overtop of you.
Despite the fact that James was on the leaner side, he was still heavy on top of you, his full weight crushing you to the table, warming your body even further. His mouth continued to move desperately against yours, his tongue tasting every inch. You wrapped your legs around him, lifting your hips up a bit to grind against him, causing his movements to falter for a second. You could feel the shudder that washed over him. He lifted his head away from yours, his hands instantly moving to your shirt and working it off of you, discarding it to the floor with the empty beer cans.
“Jesus,” James lets out, his eyes drinking in the sight of your bare breasts. Sometime during the night, you had gotten too hot from the alcohol and taken your bra off without a care. Now you lie half exposed under your best friend as he practically drools over the sight of you. You smile before grabbing the back of his neck and pushing his face into them. He wastes no time, nipping and licking the sensitive skin like a starved animal. The small buzz you had made your body feel extra sensitive, you arch your back with little restraint, your head falling against the table. His hands grip your waist firmly as his mouth assaults your chest. Slowly, his kisses start to move down, his tongue dragging along your skin, tasting every inch he can as he reaches the hem of your shorts.
You smile down at him, moving your hands above your head to push out your chest and lift your hips for him. He wastes no time fumbling with the button and tugs them and your panties down at the same time, leaving you fully bare under his gaze. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly pulls his own shirt over his head and tosses it to the side, reaching for his belt. You sit up and move his hands, unbuckling his belt for him. His gaze flickers down to your hands, watching them intently as they work slowly to reveal his skin just as he had yours. You could see his chest heaving with each heavy breath he took, his skin hot under your touch.
“Once we start, I'm not gonna be able to stop…” He says, his voice low and husky as he watches you push his jeans down his hips.
“Who said I'll want you to?” You reply quietly, meeting his eyes once more. Something had shifted in them, something darker now lay behind his baby blues as he pushed you back down on the table. He kicks his jeans off the rest of the way and crawls back over you, looking down at you as if you were his prey. He leans down and connects his lips with yours once more in a slow, sensual kiss.
With one hand above your head, he keeps himself planted there, the other trails down your side and to your thigh, wrapping it around his waist. His short nails dig into the skin, leaving little half moons against it. You feel his tip brush against your entrance, causing you to raise your hips, wanting him. He groans against your lips and pulls away to look down at you.
“I need you,” He says quietly and eagerly, his hand gripping your thigh tightly. Your hands make their way into his hair, loosely pulling the wild, blonde locks.
“Please…” You breathe out, trying to pull him closer. He looks down between your legs and positions himself once more before slowly pushing into you. A low groan escapes him, his eyes shutting and his mouth hanging open. You wanted to do the same, but you couldn't look away from him. You could feel a shudder run through his body once more as he pushed himself a little further. A soft moan leaves your lips, which causes his eyes to shoot open and bore into yours.
“You're so perfect…” He mutters quietly, his hand moving to your cheek and stroking it as his hips press against yours as far as they'll go. He stays just like that for a moment, his breathing heavy as his eyes roam over your face. You move your hands further into his hair, pushing it back so that it wasn't dangling in your face. He smiles before slowly starting to move his hips. You let out another moan, your walls slowly loosening around the invasion of his cock. He leans down and connects his lips with yours once more, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He lets out a groan, his hips moving a little faster the wetter you get.
It was no time at all before his hips were pistoning into you at a rapid pace, his hands gripping your waist almost painfully tight. His chest glistened with sweat under the low light of the room, his face halfway shielded by his hair, casting a shadow over his pleasure-contorted features. Your hands clawed at his forearms, holding yourself there, your legs trumbling under his movements, a desperate noise leaving your lips with each harsh thrust he delivered into oyur eager cunt.
“Oh fuck me,” He groans out, his head falling back, his adams apple bobbing as he hashly swallows back the whine that threated to escape.
“Please, James,” You cry out, pussy quivering around his needy cock. He looks down at you with an almost animalistic expression. He leans down, trapping your head between his forearms as he picks up his pace, his hips rutting into yours with desperation.
“Thats it, fuck, sound so good…feel so good,” He mutters under his heavy breathing. He lets out a cry, his hips sputtering for a moment, his body trembling as you feel him cum inside you.
“Mm’sorry, sorry, fuck,” He almost whimpers. Your brain couldn't quite comprehend why he was apologizing, considering the sight of him was almost enough for you to come undone yourself. You somehow manage to flip your bodies over, mounting James and staring down at him intently as you practically ride him like a cracked out pornstar. His head falls back against the table, a loud groan leaving him, his hands gripping your hips tightly and attempting to guide them.
You plant your hands firmly against his chest as your hips rock back and forth, more grinding against him than bouncing on him. His cum leaked out of you, making a sticky mess across his hips and your thighs. The feeling of him filling you from this angle was almost too much, his soft blonde pubes brushing agaisnt your sensitive, swollen clit brought your orgasm forth quickly. Your movments picked up for a moment, loud, shameless moans spilling from your mouth as you practically use James as a fucktoy. You could feel his body trembling under you, his hands leaving bruises against your hips, his own moans loud and shameless. It hits you all at once as you collapse on top of him, your arms pulling him as close as possible as your high runs through you.
James wraps his own arms tightly around you, pulling your chest flush against his, his cum spilling into you for a second time. His heavy breathing in your ear and the feeling of his skin sticking to yours were almost overwhelming. You sit up just enough to look at him, his eyes meeting yours. He lets out a quiet, breathless laugh, pulling you back down to kiss you. You pull away after a moment and rest your forehead against his, smiling down at him.
“I love you,” You whisper. You feel him give your hip a small squeeze, a smile spreading across his flushed face.
“I love you, too.”
This is so damn good
hello😁 do u mind writing something like 1991 james screwing reader that’s in a new band and the bands meet eachother or something & obviously it eventually leads to getting absolutely piped LOLOL thxthxthx
The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the sharp scent of sweat, a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion. It was the usual chaos of a backstage area—roadies hauling gear, musicians nursing drinks, the occasional groupie slipping through security. The band had just wrapped up their first opening slot for the tour, still high on the rush of playing for a crowd bigger than anything they'd seen before.
She still wasn’t used to this. Being on tour, having to bite back the urge to fangirl over the bands she had posters of back home. She gripped her drink tightly, her heart racing with excitement more than nerves, soaking in every moment like a dream she didn’t want to wake up from.
And then there was him.
James Hetfield was all confidence and raw magnetism, moving through the crowd like he belonged in every room he walked into. Which, in a way, he did. He barely needed to glance in her direction, but when he did, it was with an intensity that made her stomach tighten
"Nice set," he said, voice husky from whiskey and years of screaming into microphones.
She hesitated, gripping her beer. "Thanks. You too. Obviously."
His laugh was a low rumble, and the next thing she knew, they were talking—about music, touring, the thrill of the stage. The alcohol made her loosen up, her shy exterior cracking. She found herself gushing a little, the fan side of her slipping out between slurred words.
"I mean, it’s Metallica. You guys are fucking legends," she blurted, cheeks warm from the booze and too tipsy to be embarrassed. "I used to try and copy your guitar tone. Never got it right, though. You just—fuck, you play like you mean it."
James let out a low chuckle, taking a sip of his drink. "That’s ‘cause I do mean it. Every note, every riff—it’s gotta come from somewhere real, or people can tell when it’s bullshit." He tilted his head slightly, eyes locked onto hers. "That’s why you were good tonight. You felt it."
Her breath hitched slightly, caught off guard by the compliment. "I—uh—thanks."
He leaned in closer, voice dropping. "You ever wonder what else could feel real?"
One drink turned into two, into three, and at some point, she realized just how close they were standing. She wasn’t sure who moved first, only that one second they were still talking, and the next, he had her pressed against the wall of a dressing room, lips hot and demanding.
It was an accident. A heat-of-the-moment, an absolute reckless mistake. His hands were rough, calloused from years of playing, gripping her waist like he’d been waiting for this. It was rushed, filthy, desperate. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he took what he wanted, as she let herself drown in it just this once.
And then, it was over.
She was jolted awake by the sound of someone pounding on the door. Groggy and sore in ways that made her gasp, she barely had time to register her surroundings before a familiar voice called out, "Get your ass up! Bus is leaving in ten!"
Her heart pounded as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. Reality hit her like a freight train. James Hetfield. She had slept with James Hetfield. A wave of almost-regret—or maybe just overwhelming disbelief—crashed over her as she scrambled to find her clothes.
What the hell had she been thinking?
If she thought that night was a one-time thing, she was dead wrong.
That was, until she grabbed the setlist before soundcheck—and her eyes widened a bit. Right at the top, clear as day: Metallica.
They were the opening act tonight.
A flicker of nervous energy running through her. Still, she forced herself to shake it off. He was a rockstar. Hookups like that probably happened all the time for him. He probably didn’t even remember it.
So why did her pulse quicken just a little at the thought of seeing him again?
She felt a little off during the set, her focus slipping at times, fingers faltering over notes she could usually play in her sleep. It wasn’t nerves, not really—just a nagging awareness in the back of her mind. A couple of times, she caught her bandmates glancing her way. Still, she pushed through, refusing to let it distract her.
And then, after the final song, she walked offstage—only for James to suddenly appear beside her, effortlessly falling into step.
"Where you headed?" he asked, smirking.
"Uh—backstage? My room," she muttered.
"Good. I’ll walk you," he said, not giving her a choice, his hand lightly resting on her lower back as they moved through the halls.
Her heart pounded. Mind freaking out but still not speaking up or stopping him, too curious and maybe even excited.
Once they reached her dressing room, James stepped inside without hesitation, pushing the door closed behind him—but not locking it. Her breath caught as he took a slow step forward, backing her against the wall with an easy confidence, his body crowding hers.
"Happy to see me?" he asked, voice low, amused.
She bit her lip smiling, looking away. "Maybe a little."
He smirked, his fingers brushing lightly over her arm. "Good. ‘Cause I’ve been thinking about you all damn week."
James didn’t give her time to respond before his lips were on hers, urgent, rough. He backed her up until the backs of her thighs hit the table in front of the mirror. She gasped as he turned her, bending her over, pressing a hand against the small of her back.
Slipping her shorts and panties down. He spread her open with his thumbs, tracing her wet drooling pussy. "Missed me, didn’t she?" he murmured, his breath hot against her that had her shivering. "Poor thing’s been neglected all week. It’s okay, I’m back now. Gonna give her all the attention she needs."
Before she could react, his mouth was on her, sucking her clit into his mouth before licking deep, his beard scraping against her soft skin. Her moans filled the small room, her thighs trembling as he devoured her like a man starved.
"Fuck, james!" She said loudly, gripping the edge of the table as her vision was looking fuzzy.
He groaned against her, tongue fucking into her before pulling back to whisper, "So damn sweet.”
She barely had time to catch her breath before he stood, grabbing her face so she can look at herself in the mirror. "Look at yourself," he ordered. "Look at how fucking wrecked you are and i haven’t even pounded you yet." Letting her head fall as he went to unzip his pants and pull out his cock.
It was thick and hard as he moved it up and down against her, smiling as he watched her juices lube him up before pushing himself in, stretching her inch by inch. The wet squelch filled the air, mixing with their heavy breathing. He gripped her chin, forcing her to watch herself as he fucked into her. "God, you take me so well," he groaned. "Still fucking tight as last time."
Her moans grew higher, her body tensing as her orgasm built. James’ grip tightened on her hips, his thrusts growing rougher, deeper, his balls slapping against her soaked cunt with each snap of his hips. The wet squelch of their bodies colliding echoed in the small room, filthy and unrelenting.
"Fuck—listen to that," he groaned, voice thick with lust. "So messy, sweetheart. You gonna make a mess for me?"
She gasped, fingers scrambling for purchase against the table, her legs trembling as he fucked her harder, his cock hitting that spot that had her seeing stars.
"That’s it," he murmured, leaning over her, his breath hot against her ear. "Come on, let me feel you."
Her body gave in, her walls clenching tight around him as her orgasm crashed over her. A cry ripped from her throat, her whole body trembling as pleasure overtook her. James cursed, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own high, but then he suddenly slowed, laughing darkly.
"Shit, sweetheart…" He pulled back just slightly, enough for her to feel the emptiness before slamming back in, making her cry out. "Anyone could walk in and see you like this, bent over, dripping for me."
The thought sent a shiver down her spine, a whimper escaping her lips. "James—"
"Yeah? You like that?" He grinned against her neck, rolling his hips in slow, deep strokes that had her squirming, overstimulated but desperate for more. "Bet you’d just let ‘em watch, huh? Let ‘em see how good I fuck you?"
"Shut up," she gasped, but the way she clenched around him betrayed her.
James chuckled, his grip bruising as he pounded into her harder. "Not when you’re squeezing me like that. You want more, don’t you?"
She couldn’t answer, couldn’t form words—only breathy moans as another orgasm built fast and sharp. He felt it, too, his thrusts growing desperate, relentless.
"Come again for me, sweetheart. One more time."
The coil in her stomach winding tighter, but this time, she didn’t just take it—she moved. Bracing herself, she began rocking back against him, meeting his thrusts with eager desperation, her ass smacking against his hips with each bounce. The obscene squelch of their bodies filled the air, mixing with her breathy whimpers and his low, guttural groans.
"Fuck, look at you," he rasped, gripping her hips tighter, watching in the mirror as she fucked herself onto his cock. "So eager. You gonna take what you need, sweetheart?"
She gasped, nodding frantically, her fingers slipping on the table as she arched her back, pushing him deeper. "James—fuck—gonna—"
"Yeah, you are," he growled, snapping his hips harder, making her cry out. "Come for me. Let me feel it."
She shattered, her walls clenching down hard as pleasure consumed her. A broken sob left her lips as her body trembled, her legs threatening to give out. James cursed under his breath, his movements growing erratic before he suddenly pulled out, stroking himself quickly. With a deep groan, he spilled hot and thick over her ass, admiring it for a little before tugging her panties back up. He smirked as he watched his cum seep into the fabric before grabbing her shorts, sliding them up her shaky legs.
He started at her back, pressing slow, lingering kisses along her spine before moving to her shoulder, then up to her neck. Each touch was deliberate, teasing. He chuckled softly as she shivered beneath him, still trying to catch her breath, her body weak from pleasure.
Yeah she had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a one time thing.
can i please get 5 big booms from you guys (reblogs)
it feels so good to see james being a christian again, makes me feel so happy to see someone who's music i love following the right path
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ⍣ ೋ
𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘺 𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵
-𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 15:13
these crosses all over my body
remind me of who i used to be
and christ forgive these bones i’m hiding
˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗
† james x family tree by ethel cain †
hey, don’t cry. "Be still and know that I am God" - Psalm 46:10, okay?
9 ways to love
Listen without interrupting - Proverbs 18:13
Speak without accusing - James 1:19
Give without sparing - Proverbs 21:26
Pray without ceasing - Colossians 1:9
Answer without arguing - Proverbs 17:01
Promise without forgetting - proverbs 13:12
Enjoy without complaining - Philippians 2:14
Trust without wavering - Corinthians 13:7
Forgive without punishing - Colossians 3:13
