Metallica one shots and headcannons

Daddy kink🩸(James Hetfield one shot)

Warnings: age gap, daddy kink, explicit sexual content, dirty talks and maybe more.

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The room feels suffocating tonight. Even with the soft candlelight casting shadows across the walls, I can't shake the weight pressing against my chest. It's like the air between us is heavy with something unspoken, something I've been holding back for too long. My fingers tremble as I sit on the edge of the bed, twisting the hem of my dress in my hands, feeling the fabric slip between my fingers.

I look up at him, standing across the room. His eyes are on me, watching, waiting. He's always been good at reading me, knowing when something is wrong before I can even find the words. And tonight, I can feel his gaze piercing right through me, unraveling all the thoughts I've been trying to keep in check.

But I can't keep them inside anymore. I need him. More than just the physical want, though that's always there—an undercurrent I can't escape. But tonight, it's deeper. I need him to hold me together, to make me feel safe, wanted, and completely his.

"I need you tonight," I whisper, my voice barely audible, but I know he hears it. He always hears me. "More than ever."

His expression shifts, something dark and knowing flickering in his eyes as he steps toward me. The moment he's close enough to touch, I feel my pulse quicken, my whole body attuned to his presence like he's the only thing anchoring me to the ground. His hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing softly over my skin, and I can't help but lean into it, like I need the touch to remind me I'm not alone.

"I've got you, baby," he murmurs, his voice low, soothing, but there's a possessiveness there, too. His words wrap around me, grounding me, but they also make my stomach flutter with that familiar heat. "You don't have to say anything else."

But I do. I need him to know. I need him to understand that it's not just about comfort. It's more. It's about him, about how much I crave everything he is. I bite my lip, trying to find the right words, but the vulnerability surges to the surface before I can stop it.

"Please..." My voice trembles, and I feel the sting of unshed tears in my eyes. "I need you to remind me that I'm yours... daddy."

His grip on my waist tightens ever so slightly, pulling me closer until I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. The closeness of him, the strength in his touch, makes my breath catch. His eyes darken, his jaw clenching just a little as he brushes his lips against my ear, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous tone that always makes my heart race.

"You don't have to beg, sweetheart," he growls, and I can feel the tension thickening in the air. "You're already mine. Always have been."

The possessiveness in his voice sends a shiver down my spine, and I press myself closer to him, needing more. But it's not enough. Not tonight. I want to feel it—really feel it. I want him to take me in a way that leaves no room for doubt, no hesitation. I want to be reminded of just how deeply he owns me, body and soul.

"But I need to feel it," I whisper, my voice barely holding together. My hands reach for him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if I'm afraid he might pull away. I need to touch him. I crave the feeling of his skin against mine. Slowly, my fingers trail up his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt.