metallicames

[metallicames]

BYE I SENT U THE REQUEST WITH THE FIRST PART OF THE VIKING FIC AND NOW THE SECOND AND WHAT ILYYYYY

Omg!! I thought they were two different people. I hope you liked it 🥰

[metallicames]

viking James getting his woman pregnant and not knowing how to act or how to deal with her mood swings and behavior since she went from a shy little thing to a woman that would beat his ass 🤭🤭🤭🤭 and the only way he gets her to calm down is by getting her in bed lmaoooooo

Thanks to this request, I found the inspiration for the second part of Teach Me How To Love You… and maybe even for the third 🤪 I hope you’ll like it!

Teach Me How

To Love You

Part 2

Warnings: mention of blood, unprotected sex, creampie, pregnant reader

You could never have imagined a life so different from the one you had known. Yet, despite everything, despite the stormy beginning of this new adventure, after a year in that remote village you had begun to feel at home.

The prying looks, the whispered voices, the rumors that followed you everywhere… they had never truly disappeared. But over time you had learned to live with them. You had become stronger, more confident, less vulnerable to the attacks, veiled or not, of those around you. You had stopped feeling the need to justify yourself, to prove anything to those who never really wanted to know you.

A part of this new strength undoubtedly came from the growing bond with your husband, James. At first, your connection had been uncertain, forced by circumstances, but as the days passed, he had earned a place in your heart. With simple but sincere gestures, with measured but honest words, he had managed to break down your defenses and make you truly feel seen.

You remember one night in particular. He had called you out in the middle of the night. You didn’t understand why he wanted to take you outside in the biting cold, but you followed him. You walked in silence until you reached a clearing, and when you looked up, you were breathless: trails of green and purple light danced across the sky like suspended waves. It was the first time you had seen the aurora. You remained speechless, captivated by his calm, deep voice as he told you ancient legends while holding you close beneath his fur cloak: Odin, the Valkyries, the rainbow bridge Bifröst… stories he had listened to as a child around the fire. Some seemed strange, even unsettling, but you felt that in that moment he was offering you the key to understand his world. It was his way of letting you in, and you did, your heart a little closer to his. That night, you made love beneath that magical sky, surrounded by the silence of the night broken only by your moans and sighs.

Then there was that winter morning when fever kept you in bed for three days. You thought James, used to action, would have delegated to someone else, maybe a slave or some acquaintance. Instead, it was him who watched over you with a constant presence: he brought you warm water with the herbal infusion you had taught him to prepare, tucked the blankets around you, and one night, believing you asleep, he gently kissed your forehead. That’s when you realized that behind the warrior’s armor there was a deep, true love.

It was also for this reason that, when he was away for days hunting or on missions for the village lord, you began to realize how much you missed him.

Moreover, against all odds, you had managed to build a sincere friendship. Ingrid lived nearby and approached you without pretenses. Discreetly, she earned your trust, teaching you the customs and mindset of the village.

She was the first to sense what you yourself still dared not think: something was changing inside you.

Ingrid saw it all without a word at first, the way your skirts seemed tighter, how you pressed your lips together when certain scents reached you, the soft flush that crept into your cheeks for no reason. One afternoon, as you straightened from the well, dizzy from the sudden movement, she steadied you with her hands. Her gaze lingered on your face, quiet and knowing.

“You already know it, right?” she asked gently. And in that moment, you could no longer deny it, the truth had taken shape.

You were pregnant.

You still remember the moment you told James, that moment was now carved clearly in your memory. The crackling fire in the hearth, the scent of wet wood drifting in from outside, and your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

You had awaited that moment with a mix of anticipation and sweet fear. And when you finally spoke, when you told him a life was growing inside you, James remained motionless.

He stared into your eyes as if seeking confirmation in them, as if those words were too big to process immediately. He couldn’t answer, at least not with words. But his eyes did speak for him. They clouded with deep emotion, shining as if holding a whole storm of feelings, barely contained. He embraced you like never before, he was as stunned and scared as you but happier than you had ever seen him.

Weeks passed, and your body no longer felt entirely your own. Every day you discovered something new: tension in your belly, sudden tears at a kind gesture, lightning-fast anger over trivial things. And James… James watched you, always, trying to understand this new version of you. Sometimes you made life impossible for him, you shut yourself away in stubborn silences, becoming distant and irritable, then you returned to the sweet, caring woman he had fallen in love with. But he stayed. He endured and despite the confusion, that change intrigued him and urged him to do his best.

That night, you wake with a start.

The door opens with a long, low rumble. Cold wind rushes in through the threshold, but there’s also a smell, metallic, sharp. Blood.

You leap to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum.

James steps inside, his gait heavy, weary. His long hair is wet, his chest partly exposed beneath a torn tunic. And then you see it, a long gash cutting across his torso, as if left by a claw. He’s bleeding.

“James!” you cry, your voice cracking with anxiety. You rush toward him.

He gives you the faintest smile, as if nothing’s wrong, as if he’s used to this. But you lose control.

“What happened?!” you shout in his face. “You’re completely out of your mind! You could have died!”

He tries to speak, but you don’t let up. Your words fly out like arrows.

“You want to get yourself killed now? Every night out there, getting torn apart by beasts or by men like you’re still alone! You’re not alone anymore, James!”

“I defended myself” he growls, his voice low and loaded. “I did my duty. Winter is coming, we need food and—”

“I need you whole. I need my husband home, safe” you cut in, shouting as you push him down onto a bench and start cleaning the wound.

Your hands tremble, but you’re rough with him. You pour boiling water over the torn flesh, and he clenches his teeth, not a sound escaping. “Stupid. Stubborn. Immortal only in your head.”

He stares at you, lips tight, eyes hard. But he doesn’t stop you.

Then, suddenly, your strength leaves you. The tears come without warning, like a river breaking its banks.

You sink to your knees in front of him, your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking with sobs. “I… I’m scared, James…” you whisper, your voice broken. “I can’t control myself, I don’t know what’s happening to me… but just the thought that one day you might not come back…” Your words trail off.

He leans down, lifts you as if you weigh nothing, your belly is level with his face, he kisses it gently, then looks at you.

“I won’t die.” His voice is a vow. Low, rough, but unshakable. “I have too many good reasons to stay alive, you, our baby, you have nothing to fear.”

Then he studies you for a moment. He sees your tear-filled eyes, your trembling lips, your chest rising beneath the thin fabric. And he understands what you need, what your body and your mind need to find peace.

“Come with me…” He rises from the chair, takes your hand, and leads you to the bedroom.

The fire behind him casts flickering shadows on the walls, while the wood beneath your feet creaks softly.

When he stops in front of you, his large hands find the knot of your robe. He unties it slowly, the fabric sliding down your shoulders, brushing against your skin before falling to the floor. His eyes instinctively rest on your belly, just slightly rounded, then linger on your breasts, fuller, taut. In his gaze there is wonder, adoration.

“You look like a goddess…” he murmurs, his voice hoarse and deep. “so beautiful.”

You blush. You’re surprised by how deeply that compliment strikes you. Your body has changed, it’s true. Sometimes you feel awkward, fragile, different. But in the way he looks at you, there’s not a trace of judgment. Only desire. Only love. And the initial embarrassment melts away, replaced by something warmer, more instinctive.

He undresses slowly. The tunic, stiff with dried blood, slides from his massive body, marked with scars and muscles honed by battle. The wound on his chest still bleeds a little, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s far too focused on you.

He steps closer, caressing your chest with a warm, steady hand. His rough skin makes you shiver. Then he kisses you, slowly, deeply, the way you taught him. The way he knows you like.

“Relax…” he whispers against your lips, his breath hot. “I can feel your heart. You’re tense.”

His sensitivity strikes you. The way he notices every single thing about you, every breath, every hesitation. He has always known how to read you, without ever making you feel exposed. It’s as if your body speaks a language only he has learned to understand.

You kiss him this time, harder, pulling him close, as if only he could calm you.

When you lie down on the bed, the soft glow of the candles caresses your bodies. Your hips, your curves, seem carved in wax. His muscles, taut beneath sun-warmed skin, move above you like slow, steady waves.

He positions himself between your legs and enters you with a disarming slowness, as if he wanted to etch every sensation into his memory. You both moan, your breathing breaking in the warm air of the room.

You feel him. You feel everything. And the tension that had gripped you for weeks melts away, one shiver at a time.

You let go. Finally.

There is only your man’s body against yours, inside you, his breath on your neck, his hands holding you with ever-growing desire.

“I missed being inside you…” he whispers in your ear, his voice thick with moans and rising desire. “Feeling your body wrapped around me like this…”

His hips move with more purpose now, a rhythm that builds, shifts, and adapts to your moans. Your hands slide over his sweat-slicked back, nails grazing his scars, your legs locking around his in a fierce, primal need.

Every thrust drives him deeper inside you, each kiss more desperate than the last. His mouth claims yours with a raw, visceral hunger, his tongue searching for yours as if only you can quench a burning thirst. He gets lost in the kiss, in your gasps, until his body slows, his movements growing slower, almost still, absorbed in the intensity of that kiss.

But you want him. All of him. Now.

You wrap yourself tightly around him, your body speaking without words. Your hips rise to meet his, eager and demanding.

“More… give me more…” you whisper, your warm breath brushing his lips, sending a shiver between you.

He rises onto his knees without a word. His dark, intense eyes look down at you, as if beholding something sacred and precious. His hands roam your body, exploring every curve, every taut muscle. His fingers cup your breasts, squeezing and caressing them with both worship and raw desire.

Drops of blood start seep from his wound, falling slowly onto your chest, and as if part of a powerful ritual, you feel him even closer, like you are one body, when he begins to thrust into you again. Deeper. Harder.

You clutch the fur beneath you, anchoring yourself to him as your eyes roll back and your moans tell James you’re right on the edge. His thumb lands on your swollen, aching bud, rubbing and circling it in the most perfect way possible, driving you over the edge with a desperate cry.

Your reaction unleashes a primal hunger in him. He slams his fists into the mattress beside you, you feel the tension building in his body, all his energy coiled and ready to explode and, with final, powerful thrusts, he fills you completely. You feel him swollen and pounding deep inside, teeth clenched as he empties himself fully, claiming every inch of you.

You stare into his eyes, still dazed from pleasure, your legs weak and trembling.

“Feeling better now?” James asks a few moments later breathless, his body still fully connected to yours.

You wait a moment before answering, wanting to savor the moment and that newfound sense of peace.

“Yes… definitely better” you reply in a calm, relaxed tone. He slowly pulls out and lies down beside you, his breathing slowing with yours.

“Sorry James… lately I’ve been… out of control… You must hate me right now, I know…” you whisper looking into his eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize… you’re doing the hard work growing our child inside you. I think I can handle your mood swings, especially if this is how you keep them in check” he says with a reassuring tone and a mischievous look that hits you unexpectedly deep in your core.

You feel that delicious heat rise inside you again, fueled by his words and that teasing glint in his eyes. Slowly, you shift your body over his, letting your hands rest on his chest as you look down at him with a playful smile.

"Mmmh... now that I think about it... I’m still a little tense... maybe I need to feel you inside me just one more time..."

you murmur, your voice low and teasing, playing with the blond hairs on his chest as you begin to move slowly over him, creating a delicious friction between his still-hard shaft and your wet, sensitive folds.

He grins, eyes darkening with desire, and without a word pulls you closer, ready to lose himself in you once more.

[metallicames]

This is amazing😍

Perspective is hard

[metallicames]

babe please bless us again with viking James 🙏

[metallicames]

Imagine S&M 1 James taking you against a wall, cus he knows you love his like enormous fucking monster biceps, and you love how he keeps throwing his head back as you pull on his hair which makes him go faster and like piston into you- yeeaaahhh im bustin at the thought

Well.. that's hot 😏 hope you like my idea.

Surprise

Warnings: dirty talking, unprotected sex, creampie.

“I can’t take it anymore, James… I’m going crazy. I miss your body.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, pressed against the phone, breath shaky as people pass by around you.

“Don’t say that to me, baby… I get hard just thinking about you.” His voice hits you like a jolt to the chest, low, rough, intimate, and it makes your knees weaken.

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the ache tightens in your core. That raw, desperate need. That aching emptiness only he knows how to fill.

“I miss feeling you… really feeling you” you murmur. “Even just your voice drives me insane.”

“As soon as I see you, I’m going to make you feel everything. Every second we’ve lost. I swear.” His tone drops, filled with heat and promise. “But we’ve got to hang on… just one more week. Fuck...” There’s a pause. You hear noise in the background, movement, tension, a burst of voices. He’s about to go onstage.

“I’ve got to go. Two minutes till we’re live. I’ll call you the second I’m off. I love you, baby.”

Your heart surges, lips curved in a smile that’s all his. “Go kill it, love. I love you too.” You end the call with butterflies in your stomach.

He doesn’t know you’re about to get on a plane to California.

You booked the first flight you could find, without thinking twice, leaving everything behind: work, appointments, all of it. You’re carrying only the essentials and a burning need inside you: to see him. To touch him. To lose yourself in his arms.

You won’t make it in time for the show. But what really matters is that you’re on your way to him.

A few hours later, you’re standing just outside the backstage entrance. The staff recognizes you instantly. A bodyguard cuts through the crowd and leads you down a maze of crowded hallways and flickering neon lights.

Your heart is pounding, your palms are slick with sweat. You feel like a teenager on her first date, your legs trembling as you get closer to him. You were apart for only a month, but it feels like a lifetime.

The concert has just ended. Backstage is a blur of movement, techs rushing around, instruments being packed up, stage lights dimming one by one.

In the middle of the chaos, Lars sees you first. He grins wide and walks straight over, arms open.

“Hey Y/N! What the hell are you doing here?!” he laughs, pulling you into a warm hug. “I managed to get away last minute… so I flew here. Literally. How was the show?”

As you talk, Kirk joins in, tossing a quick joke your way. You all laugh together, but your attention keeps drifting toward the hallway. Every sound, every footstep makes your heart leap.

And then you see him.

Your breath catches in your throat.

He’s walking toward you slowly, his black shirt clinging to his chest with sweat, hair a mess, eyes still burning with adrenaline. He’s mid-conversation with a crew member and then he sees you.

He freezes. Stares. As if someone just punched the air out of his lungs. Like he’s afraid to believe you’re real.

And then he moves, forgetting everything and everyone as he closes the distance between you.

“You…” he breathes, stunned.

“Surprise!” you say, beaming, your voice trembling with emotion.

In two long strides, he reaches you and pulls you into his arms, wrapping you up so tightly you can barely breathe. He buries his face in the curve of your neck and inhales you deeply. “I can’t believe you’re here” he murmurs against your skin, voice thick with disbelief and relief.

“I did everything I could to get to you” you whisper, your fingers tracing slow, tender circles on his damp back. He turns, calling out with a grin, “Sorry guys...duty calls!”

Laughter follows you as he grabs your hand and pulls you down the hallway, not giving a damn about the stares or the teasing voices behind you.

All that matters is that you’re finally here. With him.

The dressing room is small, intimate, saturated with his scent. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, he pins you against the wall without hesitation.

He kisses you like he needs you to breathe, like he’s been holding it in for far too long. In one swift, commanding motion, he lifts you, and your legs wrap instinctively around his hips. You feel him, hard, throbbing, pressing against you through the maddening barrier of his jeans.

His teeth catch your lower lip in a hungry, teasing bite as his hands fumble with growing urgency. The buttons of your dress give way one by one under the force of his fingers, almost torn open, until your bare chest is exposed to him.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, breath ragged, eyes dark with hunger.

“God… you’re so fucking beautiful” he murmurs, voice low and rough, like gravel coated in desire.

You touch him, your fingers digging into the hard tension of his biceps, so big, so full of strength they make you feel so tiny.

"You too..You're even bigger than last time..." you whisper, almost in awe, watching him with adoration, struck by the raw power his body radiates. That broad chest, those wide shoulders, those arms that look like they were made to hold you down and never let go.

Your hands move quickly, undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one, needing to see him, to feel the bare strength of his chest against you.

"Yeah? You like that?" he murmurs with a cocky smile, catching the way you look at him. "I know you like how big I am compare to you… how I feel like too much."

He nips gently at your ear, then trails his mouth slowly down your neck, leaving behind a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses.

He reaches your breast. One hand wraps around it, firm and possessive, while his lips close around your nipple, kissing, sucking, grazing it with his teeth just enough to send a shiver rocketing through you. Your breath breaks from you in a gasp, sharp and involuntary.

“I missed you so fucking much” he whispers, moving to your other breast, kissing you there with the same slow, aching devotion.

“I missed you too… I couldn’t wait any longer” you breathe, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, inviting him in without words.

With one hand, he pushes his pants down, then his boxers, never once breaking eye contact.

His gaze burns through you as he slides your already damp panties aside.

There’s no time to undress completely, you both need to feel each other too badly to wait.

Holding you effortlessly with one arm, as if you weighed nothing, he guides himself to your entrance with the other hand.

And when he finally slides into you, you both moan together, one broken, breathless sound that fills the small dressing room.

You feel it instantly, full, overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure that’s immediate, deep, and all-consuming.

His arms slide beneath your thighs, spreading you open even more.

You cling to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders, your hardened nipples pressed against the heat of his chest.

He starts to move inside you, slow at first, like he wants to savor every inch, every pulse, every second. Pressing you against the wall with each deep thrust.

But soon the pace shifts. Urgency takes over.

He begins to take you harder, needier, his hips driving into yours with powerful, burning precision.

His mouth is everywhere, devouring your skin, your neck, your jaw, your shoulders, your breasts again.

“Fuck, baby… I won't last long… you’re too much..” he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours.

Your hands tangle in his sweat-damp hair as you kiss him, fierce, hungry, desperate.

Your hips meet his, matching his rhythm, chasing every thrust and the sound of your bodies colliding, seeking each other, fills the room along with your broken, breathless moans.

“Harder… wreck me” you whisper into his ear, tugging his hair. He throws his head back with a groan that vibrates through you, low and primal.

Your lips press hard against his exposed neck, trailing rough kisses and deep, hungry sucks along the warm skin, drawing out moans as dark marks rise where your mouth claimed it. Every touch of yours fuels him further and you can feel it.

Then he starts thrusting into you with that relentless, rhythmic power, fierce, focused, like a piston. Like fury. He pins you hard against the wall, not slowing down, not stopping, driven by the need to erase every single day he spent away from you.

“My fucking God...yes… y-yes, just like that…” You can barely say between the moans. Each thrust steals the breath from your lungs, sending waves of pleasure rippling up your spine. And when he grinds against your clit with purpose, your legs spread even wider, braced on his arms, the world disappears.

All that exists is him, this moment, and the heat rising inside you, growing, swelling like a wave you can’t stop and wouldn’t dare try to. The friction, perfectly in sync with the thrusts of his hips, makes your pussy's walls clench instinctively around his thickness, drawing a deep shudder from him. “My God… so good… sso fucking good…” he groans under his breath, struggling to hold on.

“Mmmhh… James… I’m gonna…” you pant, eyes fluttering closed, your voice a breathless whisper.

“I know… I know, baby… me too…” You can feel him on the edge, just like you, both of you right there, seconds away from breaking apart.

“Come with me… fuckfffuck…” he growls against your shoulder, slamming into you even harder.

And then you break. A strangled cry escapes against his lips as the orgasm crashes over you like a violent wave, tearing through your body, leaving you trembling. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps driving into you until his own body tenses, every muscle straining

and then he lets go with a deep, guttural moan, spilling everything into you as he finally gives in.

He stays still for a few seconds, forehead resting against yours, both of you breathless, sweaty, and shaking. Then he smiles. A real smile. Ecstatic.

“Welcome back, love.” he says softly.

He’s still hard, still inside you when someone suddenly knocks on the door. “Hey guys, we’re heading to the party, join us… if you’ve got any strength left!” A few chuckles follow, then fading footsteps echo down the hallway.

You both glance at each other and almost instantly, your eyes drop to your dress… still on you, but completely torn. “I think we’re gonna have to find you something to wear, baby…” he murmurs, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

[metallicames]

ᚠ ᛰ Find the Differences ᚫ ᛟ

[metallicames]

I need another part to teach me how to love you it’s so good😔

🥰 I really want to make the second part of Teach Me How to Love I'm just looking for the right inspiration for the story and in the meantime, I have so many pending requests 😱😱😱 *panic attack*

[metallicames]

Happy birthday to this AMAZING human being! ❤️🤘🏼

[metallicames]

Move what you’ve got available girls

[metallicames]

omfg ur writing is literally so freaking good i giggle n kick my legs whenever you post 😋🙏

Thank uuuuu.. love your stories too 😜

[metallicames]

Hiiiii!!

So I was just wondering if you could do something with SKOM James??

Just something with him having a really bad day at the studio with ten band after getting out of rehab and just wanting his girlfriend/wife/whatever you want and the second he’s home he just grabs her and pulls her upstairs to go lay with him for a while. Before reader fell asleep James just tugs on her clothes cause he just wanted to feel her closer, nothing sexual or anything and just wanted skin to skin with her so just got out of their clothes before he slipped inside her and just held her.

Today something sweet 🫠

Closer

Warnings: angst, unprotected sex, creampie.

"James!"

Kirk’s voice echoes down the hallway just after the door slams shut. The guitarist quickens his pace to catch up, but one glance is enough to know—it’s like walking into a fire.

James strides forward with long, heavy steps, jaw clenched, fists tight at his sides like he’s ready to hit anyone who crosses him. His face is etched with exhaustion and a barely contained rage. His eyes say it all: he’s holding it together just to keep from exploding.

"You can’t keep doing this, damn it!" Kirk blurts out, slowing only slightly as he gets closer. "Lars is out of line, we all know that, but you need to calm down—"

James stops dead.

He turns.

His presence suddenly becomes too much for the narrow hallway. He pivots like a disturbed predator, cold eyes locked on Kirk.

"You really wanna talk to me right now?" he growls, voice rough and sharp. "After he blew me up in front of everyone? After every single fucking session’s turned into a war zone?"

Kirk doesn’t answer right away. He knows when to speak and when to stay quiet, but this time silence doesn’t feel right.

"Yeah, I wanna talk to you. Because I’m seeing the James from a few years ago

, the one out of control, and I don’t want that—"

"What?" James cuts him off, stepping closer. His voice drops, more threatening. "You wanna calm me down? Make me breathe? Forget it, Hammett. I’m done."

Kirk stiffens. But he doesn’t move. He looks at him the way you look at a friend slipping away right in front of you.

"Het. I’m talking to you like a brother."

James shakes his head, ironic, bitter.

"Brother? Brothers don’t call you paranoid every time you speak. They don’t look at you like you’re a ticking bomb. Do you even know what it’s like to be clean for ten fucking months? To breathe and still feel like you’re drowning every goddamn day?!"

His voice rises, erupting in a scream full of frustration and venom.

Kirk stays silent. He doesn’t need to say anything. For a moment, that silence is heavier than any words.

James turns again, this time propelled by raw fury. He walks toward the studio exit. Every step slams into the floor like a blow, as if he’s trying to leave a mark, prove something. But deep down, he just needs to leave. To run.

The night air hits his face like a slap. But it’s better than suffocating in there.

Only one thought remains.

One direction.

One refuge.

Home.

When you hear the front door slam, breaking the silence of your home, you know it’s him. The sound is sharp, tense.

You rise slightly from the couch, your book slipping silently to your side. And then you see him. James.

Tense shoulders, tired eyes, his steps slow, as if he’s carrying an invisible weight pulling his heart to the ground.

“Hey” you whisper as he reaches you.

He says nothing. He exhales deeply, and then his eyes travel slowly over you, from head to toe, like just seeing you might bring him peace.

"Come here."

Those are the only words that make sense when you see him like this, exhausted, on the edge.

He kneels beside you with a heavy motion and lowers his face to your stomach. He presses into you gently, like he's seeking shelter, like he wants to disappear there, between your warm skin and your scent.

He breathes deeply, trying to find comfort.

Your fingers instinctively slide into his tousled hair, moving in that slow, steady way James loves. From his hairline to the nape of his neck, back and forth, like a caress that never ends.

It’s a simple gesture, but full of meaning, one you find yourself doing often lately, in this time where words feel useless or too much. You know how it calms him, how it makes him feel safe.

And he, with his face buried against you, his arms wrapped gently around your waist, lets your touch gather him, hold him together.

You feel his breathing slow against your skin, warm, deep, syncing with yours.

After a long moment, his voice breaks the silence, low and rough.

“I just want to go to bed with you. Just… be with you.”

You nod as he takes your hand, and together you go upstairs. In silence. Each step feels like a held breath.

You enter the room, and he closes the door softly, as if the world can finally stay outside.

You sit at the edge of the bed and slip off your shoes. He watches you.

His eyes are the mirror of his soul, you see sadness, exhaustion… but also love.

He says nothing, then lets out a sigh and falls beside you, turning on his side. You welcome him without words, like your body knows what to do before your mind can even catch up.

You open a small space in your arms, and he slips into it like it’s his home, because it is.

Outside, rain begins tapping softly against the windows, a steady rhythm marking your movements and filling the silence.

You feel his breath, slow against your neck.

You kiss his temple, his scent wrapping around you, a mix of smoke, aftershave, and something that is just him, something that makes him irresistible.

You feel him slowly unravel, his shoulders softening, his hand finding yours.

“I’m here for you, James” you whisper in his ear, and he exhales as if your words open a hidden refuge inside his chest.

He holds you tighter.

His large, warm body surrounds you.

You’re so small next to him, yet in his arms you feel completely safe.

In that embrace full of silence, you feel everything, his wordless apology for the times he hurt you, the nights when alcohol took over, pulling him away not just from you, but from himself.

There’s regret in every breath, in every kiss he leaves on your skin, as if he wants to erase the past inch by inch.

As sleep begins to brush over you, sweet and gentle, you feel his hands move slowly.

He lifts your shirt with quiet tenderness, pausing to look at you.

Then the rest, each movement silent, like a caress.

His lips touch your temple, then your mouth, as he undresses himself, piece by piece, with the same softness as slipping into a dream.

He gently leads you under the covers,

and when his naked body presses against yours, you feel a warmth that’s not just physical.

It’s as if every part of your skin recognizes his touch, his weight, his presence.

James breathes slowly, his face buried in your hair, his chest rising and falling against your back.

Then his voice, that deep, warm voice you’ve always loved, breaks the silence like a whispered melody.

“You have the sweetest scent I’ve ever known… You make me feel like home.”

He kisses your neck, barely a whisper.

His arm wraps around you, protective.

And as you soak in the contact of your bodies, feeling his heart beat against your back, you feel something deeper, a connection.

His hands begin to move over you with a tenderness that steals your breath.

His fingers, strong and worn from playing, from chasing sounds, from shaping music, are hands you know well.

You’ve seen them create, hold, break…

but on you, they’re pure magic.

He brushes his fingers along your arm, your waist, your belly.

Your body opens under him like a long, shivering breath.

There’s no rush in his touch.

Only love. And need.

James pulls you closer with both arms.

His breath warms your neck, deep and trembling.

"I need you..." he whispers in your ear.

Then he enters you, slowly, almost reverently, as if he’s searching not just for your body, but your soul.

He moves with quiet intensity,

letting out a low moan as he trembles at the sensation.

His body speaks for him, every movement a wordless confession, every touch a silent I love you.

His skin burns against yours.

Your heart beats in response to his as if they’re trying to find the same rhythm.

You feel like part of him, completely.

“I love you” he whispers in that deep voice that made you fall for him in the first place.

“I love you too, James” you reply softly.

You feel it in every fiber of your being

as he moves within you slowly, as if your warmth could heal him.

You close your eyes, breath catching as his hips roll into you with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

There’s nothing rushed, nothing frantic, just him, moving inside you like he belongs there, like he’s trying to memorize how you feel from the inside out.

You’re not chasing pleasure you’re chasing closeness, a connection that goes beyond the physical.

James’s movements slow, turn uneven.

You guide his hands to your chest, holding him there, grounding him.

“Hold me closer…” you whisper.

Like you, he’s not chasing a quick release, he’s seeking you.

Seeking peace in your body, refuge in your warmth.

He rests his forehead against your shoulder, a low moan escaping him, shaking you from the inside.

His fingers intertwine with yours, sliding over your belly and you hold them tightly.

You want him to feel it. You’re here. You won’t let go.

In that moment, in that desperate, profound connection, you understand:

he’s not just making love to you, he’s trying not to fall apart.

And you’re the one holding him together.

Because you love him. Because you are his safe place.

You close your eyes, gasping softly,

letting yourself be carried away by the feeling, by his thrusts.

Your fingers clutch the sheets as your bodies tremble with pleasure.

You feel him come inside you with a low moan against your nape.

His hand clutches your belly, anchoring you to his hips with need. His breath burns your skin.

You stay like that, still, warm, naked,

him still inside you, in that quiet tremble,

as your breaths return to rhythm

and sleep slowly takes over.

[metallicames]

The strongest woman in the world right now.

I can't even imagine how she feels to lose the love of her life... Hope Sharon will make her way through the grief safely, my thoughts are with The Osbourne family 🙏🏻

[metallicames]

James doing literally every sport

[metallicames]

I'm trekking in this wonderful place and I can't stop thinking about James Hetfield.

Sedate me.

[metallicames]

best Italian dish to get straight from the source GO

Honestly I don’t know which one is the absolute best it’s hard to tell!

Maybe my favorite dish is lasagna alla bolognese 🫠🫠🫠 and for dessert definitely tiramisú.

[metallicames]

🫦🫦🫦

Oh btw red Smirnoff shirt James bc this is like top 5 James for me

[metallicames]

you’re my favourite writer ♡

🥹🫶🏼 this makes me so happy and emotional