Lars Ulrich Amirite?!🥴

Vulgar Display of Power

a rough phil anselmo short oneshot

𖤐 phil decides to humble you in front of a more than intrigued dimebag darrell 🎸

𖤐

content (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

forced submission; rough, degradation, slight dacryphillia, implied spanking, voyeurism. in short, ragdoll reader!

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"Goddamn, dude. Fucking look at her."

You hear the gruff voice of your lovely and brooding Phil Anselmo growl out above you. All you could hear was echoes and rings by this point. Vision tainted through teary eyes, smudged mascara stains both your face, and the comforter below you. You were currently being absolutely drilled into from behind, laying damn near flat on the hotel bed; with one arm roughly pinned to your back, and your hair tightly wrapped around a large fist, restricting you from even daring to jerk away from him. Drool was pooling from your mouth as your oh-so quivery cries of both pain, and pleasure were bountiful and uncontrolled. Your throat felt raw.

Your lover was indicating how miserable he'd successfully made you look, and all in front of his very intrigued bandmate—Dimebag, who was watching the scene unfold from the couch directly set in front of the bed—your average hotel suite setup. He has a hand down his unzipped, cargo-like shorts, massaging himself; a black baseball cap on, his fluffy curls waterfalls down, and the look on his face tells all.

"Droolin' like a fuckin' mutt, I tell ya." Dime comments with a low grunt following after. His eyes trace the way your body lays out on the bed beneath the focused, sweaty, frontman. The way you're trampolining the mattress due to Phil's strong and steady pace into you, Dime appreciates the crimson bruises on your backside given to you several minutes ago, only worsening with every skin slapping thrust from his bandmate. They just craved to see your ass jump and wear—Phil giving you that nice little "punishment" to warm you up earlier—in which you didn't know which had gotten redder, your face from embarrassment, or your backside. The stinging added more pleasure-pain to your current predicament. They loved to see how pushed your limits were, seeing you cry, hearing you helplessly whimper, seeing how ruined you were all over.

You can't even chalk up a coherent sentence due to all of this stimulation, all you can do is make pathetic little noises. Your relatively smaller frame to Phil's large and threatening one berates you physically, and you know you can't fight against him. Your neck is shooting pain from how tight he's holding your head up; had your head fell, you would have been somewhat hanging off the foot of the bed, showing greatly your tiredness and defeat. Dime's eyes greet yours yet again, and he gives you a smug expression, making you slightly resent the both of the guys more and more for taking you like this.

You feel Phil's hand leave your pinned arm and he pulls out temporarily, letting out whispered and broken curses as he starts to reposition you two. His other hand still tightly held on to your hair. With one hand, he reaches under you to palm your lower stomach and guide your lower half upwards to line up with his hips, rubbing at your clit on the way, sending harsh chills through your body. By this time, you were on your way to your third orgasm of the session. Phil made it a promise to wear you out tonight.

Now in a doggy position, he drags you back further into the center of the bed, and shoves your head down into the mattress, he lets out a very teasing laugh as he lands a smack on your raw backside, making you chirp. "You're giving ole' Dime here a good show..." He groans as he trails his nicely sized package up and down your slit. You say nothing as you pant, trying to calm your breath down to speed. All you hear is a distant chuckle from a more than pleasured Dimebag, then a sharp smack to your ass breaks the air, your whimper loudly following. "So fucking pathetic. You see this shit?" Phil chortles, squeezing one of your cheeks, "Shut the fuck up." he lets go of your hair and his hand meets his other at your hip.

"Nah, dude. Rev her up. Let me hear her." Dime persists, his free hand reaching to his half drunken beer on the table beside him, then proceeding to take a swig. With this, Phil snakes his hand through your legs to your soaked center once again, and rubs your swollen valley. This action is just the thing you need to ride you to number four, making you purr against the comforter like a tigress in heat. He concentrates on your bud as he speeds it up, you feel more of your own slick painting your inner thighs and drooling onto the bed, Phil talking you through it, spewing curses like a mad man.

"Thaaaaat's it. Yeah, you fucking like that shit don't you?"

He draws uneven circles with heavy, coarse fingers, and you ache and quiver with absolute pleasure, anticipating your next comedown. Moans slipping your vocal chords as your teeth are clamped against eachother.

"Goddamn, that's what I like to hear." Dime grunts, enjoying every last second of this. You hear him mention something about how he regrets leaving his camera on the tour bus. "Can't wait to put that pretty little mouth to good use." He muttered brashly. Nervous butterflies overtake you atop of shameful anticipation.

You feel Phil's other hand cup at your ass again, spreading you apart, he spits at your slit and continues to violate you, chuckling once again. "That's it, bitch. Fuck, 'love seeing you like this." The words rush to your core, you know this is wrong, but you just can't seem to help yourself. This is the first time that phil has gotten you humbled like this, and this is the first and only time that he has done you like this for an audience; not like you're completely opposed to it anyway, just a little humiliated to say the least. "Gonna fuck you dumb."

Your thoughts and slow burning pleasure were then again interrupted by Phil suddenly stopping his motions, hand grabbing at your waist, and the other pumping himself, then guiding back to your entrance. You brace yourself as he breathlessly sighs his way back into you. You bite the comforter as he mercilessly fucks his way back into a punishing pace with no warning. His animalistic grunts filling up the room clashing with your helpless songs of pleasure. Hands hold onto your waist, easily crashing you back into him, good and hard.

You challengingly try to pull yourself away a little bit, catching him off guard at first, to which is almost immediately shut down by Phil dragging you right back to him; his hands now firmly set in place on your hips, practically digging into you. He doesn't stop, or seem to slow down. His commanding tone shakes you, "Where you goin'? You stay right fucking here." and lands you another crisp smack to your ass. You're left powerless, and flustered all over, and you quickly feel yourself nearing your next summit.

Shame is farrrrrrrr out the window, and the night is farrrrrrrr from over.

♓︎𝔞𝔱𝔢☙

man we've got shit like TUBI now 🙏 LET 'ER RIP

that airtime is something serious though, he tryna escape the Floods?????

WHEN I SAY LARS, YOU SAY DRUMMER OF THE CENTURY

🗣️LARS

Hi!! I have a smut request for my pookie Kirk!!

So I know he’s a Scorpio and I know for a fact they can get jealous and I can just imagine him being jealous. I feel as if he hides it until the last minute

So imagine reader is at the club enjoying their time with the other girlies dancing and drinking and some guy decides to join reader and dance and reader decides it’s harmless fun until Kirk decides it’s time to dip basically dragging reader (who clearly wasn’t ready to go) back home to fuck them til they see stars 🤭🤭🤭

ᴏʜ ʏᴇs ʏᴇs ʏᴇs ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴜᴛᴛᴇʀꜰʟɪᴇs ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪs 🙂‍↔️ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀ ᴜᴘ! ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!

𖤐

content(●’◡’●)ﾉ

edging, faceriding, asphyxiation

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You loved to go out dancing, and your 'Tallica guitarist lover, Kirk Hammett loved to watch you.

You called up your friends to meet you at a new hot-topic club that popped up early this past summer that you've been wanting to go to. Due to Metallica dropping their newest album, Load, around the time the club opened, you hadn't really made the time to go. Especially given how territorial your boyfriend could sometimes project himself to be, he wouldn't let you go out clubbing alone. It wasn't an issue of trust exactly, he pretty much just wanted you to himself, and wanted to make it known to everyone that you were his.

Finally, late in the year, you all were able to make time to make an appearance at the club!

Kirk's bandmates were also in attendance—though, they were off doing their own thing. Fishing for who they were gonna take hold of for the night like the rockstar dickheads they were at the time.

The song playing was a grooved remix of Dru Hill's In My Bed. Now, this awakened something in you. Something about the beat, something about the lyrics, you didn't know exactly, but you were truly hypnotized.

Your lover had been standing off a little to the side to give you and your friends room to dance, nodding his head along to the music, sipping on something he picked up from the bar.

All was good and peachy, that was, until you found yourself against a body that wasn't Kirk's! It oddly gave you a familiar feeling, so, it didn't quite bother you. You thought it was fine. This, was a problem.

It was dark in the club.

The man was feeling you up from behind, and you subconsciously guide his hands over your body as you sway your hips around, giggling and singing along to the song.

It was your friends you spotted before you spotted Kirk. They went from hyping you up, excitedly, to being wide eyed quickly.

You were then tugged away with a strong hint of aggression backing; you hear hostile words exchanging behind you directed between the man and Kirk.

You couldn't make anything out, thanks to the music being played loudly. Before you could look back to who you were dancing with, Kirk snatches your face to meet his.

Damn.

He suddenly goes in to purposefully make out with you, tongue possessive and sloppy. His hand snakes his way to your ass, giving it a strong squeeze before he separates from your lips, biting the bottom one before he turns you around and ropes his arm around your waist from behind.

You continue to turn your head and look up at him, strobing lights highlight his eyes glaring down into yours.

"Let's go."

He abruptly declares.

You scoff, starting to look around, but Kirk's other arm flies up over your chest, his hand grabbing your chin to keep your vision set on him. Uh-oh!

You huff. "The hell? No way. I'm sorry I didn't realize you weren't—"

"—You wanna rethink that little attitude?" His voice, cutting you off, threateningly low in your ear. The arm roped around your waist tightens a bit.

Your friends watched you get handled by Kirk Hammett, both amused, and wondering if they should step in.

You nervously smile, trying not to signal any red flags. You continue dancing, swinging your hips against him, passing your little confrontation with Kirk off as a nice, cool, and calm conversation—to save yourself the embarrassment of course.

"Stop it. I'm not going!"

You argue back, that last part coming off slightly louder than anticipated.

It seems the guy that you were blindly dancing on moments before had vanished back into the crowd, not that you would've been able to pick him out from the crowd anyway, so there really wasn't anybody you could look for saving you now.

Kirk simply nods—subtle, but feeling challenged, handing his drink off to a random, and suddenly hiking you up over his shoulder. You gasp, feeling the air rush under your dress, you turn red. "Kirk, put me down!" You squeal as he drags you away, planting a sharp smack to your airborne ass, a warning for you to calm down. You grumble, apologetically eyeing your friends, and nosy onlookers as you two exit the club.

𖤐

Here you were, straddled out over his face. Kirk devilishly eating at you from the inside out. He had one hand locking one of your struggling hands to your hip, and his other hand effortlessly stroking himself. His eyes are on your face, as if he were reading right through you; reading your thoughts, reading your emotions, and reading your slight regret from what occurred at the club.

Your hand smacks the headboard and you shudder, pleading with him that he lets you cum for him. Kirk currently was busy doing that thing that drives you crazy; sucking your clit while his tongue crosses his T's and dots his I's.

Chills ran high through your body as Kirk unraveled you. In no time were you drowning him in your slick, biting your lip, eyes shut, trying not to moan out too loudly—it's not that you didn't want to, it's that if he heard you enjoy yourself too much, he'd stop you right in your tracks...yet again. His beard tickles you lightly, along with his lip piercing as his warm lips continue to suck you firmly.

He knew you were close. Though, he wanted you soaked just enough to get you going, just enough to get you ready for him.

Kirk brings his right hand back to you, using both hands to protectively guide your hips to grind on his soft lips. His hands, now thick with pent up jealousy and power, roughly travel up and down your sides, pit stopping at your nipples. His touch, always passionate, but filled with exasperation.

Kirk, in between his actions growls out a bold, "Whose pussy is this?" Eyes still, dead set on you.

You feel like you're walking on eggshells with him when he's like amped up like this, so you quickly respond in submission. "Kir- Ah! Y-yours..." You stutter, heat crawling throughout your body in intense waves.

He surfaces again, "What was that?" Then brings a crisp palm to the side of your ass suddenly, making you chirp. You waste no time in response.

"Your's!"

Kirk frustratingly grunts, suddenly tightening his grip on you, and practically throws you off of him, sending your back bouncing into the mattress. Before you could recollect yourself, you were being grabbed once again, Kirk climbing on top of you, and next slamming into you. You cry out, throwing your hand instinctively to his bronze, sweaty stomach, covering his relatively new tattoo he got last Christmas. He works his way into you, deeper each thrust.

Your hands grasp at his arm, seemingly needing both to hold on as he pounds into you mercilessly, and needing to breathe again. Crying, whining, and moaning only worsen your condition, as you need to keep your breath so you wouldn't pass out. Kirk didn't care, letting all his jealousy fuck you dumb. Written all over his face was a fixed look of concentration, eyes dark and filled with possessiveness.

"You wanna act all unsure all of a sudden?"

He barks down at you, not moving his arm to allow you air to answer.

You shake your head no, attempting to chalk out an apology. Regardless, he wasn't having it. Your vision begins to wash in and out, seeing floaters, you start to hear ringing in your ears.

Kirk eventually lets off his grip once he sees your head start to drop, bringing you back to reality. You regulate your breathing, heart pounding out of your chest. He smirks down at you, digging on the fact that he has complete control over you in every aspect.

He pulls out momentarily to reposition. He grab your legs, folding you back like a lawn chair, giving him best access to you. He moves his body inches above yours and slides back into you, nearly taking your breath again.

"Hmmnh, I don't care who you're with, or what the fuck is happening..." He starts, letting his hips rhythmically smack into you. "I make your decisions for you." Your chest rises and falls with a purpose, you nod your head quickly. Hopefully—in your logic—if you do as he says, he'll let you come. "You understand me?"

"Yes sir...I'm sorry, Kirk!" You obediently squeak out, also with a pang of fear in your stomach that he might choke you to the point of bringing you to the edge of meeting your ancestors again. He looks down at you, not taking your apology too seriously.

"You wanna show out for other guys?"

He hardens his bucks, grunting in between. You don't answer immediately, your mind went numb with pleasure, but you were still trying your best to stay present. You eventually shake your head no.

Kirk doesn't like this response, but he twitches inside of you from his own pleasure. "Huh. You're a greedy, greedy, little thing. Aren't you?"

"F-fuck, please..." You cry, him hitting your spot over and over again with a punishing amount of power, making your bed creak loudly. Your lower stomach squeezed and your walls tightened, but you try to stop yourself because the curly, now short-haired guitarist hasn't allowed you to further on. Your eyes weaken once again, the floaters returning to you as sounds of skin slapping pollute the air.

"Shit..." He grunts out shortly after, eyebrows furrowed, more dominating whispers falling from his lips as he closes in on his gasm. He lets himself go inside of you, moaning deeply, music to your ears.

Kirk was still going, whispering sweet-for-nothings in your ear, licking down to your neck, and leaving behind a love bite, stamping you; almost bringing you to your point of no return. Seemed he was gonna take you there after all.

By this point, you're shaking, eyes squeezed shut, floating in twisted paradise. Only needing a few more seconds of him drilling into you before you follow through with yours. Though, all of a sudden, you were left empty.

Well, technically, full of seed, but empty from Kirk.

Your eyes flutter open in irritation and slight hurt, and you look to the side of the bed where your satisfied lover is now standing, lighting a cigarette, and looking down at you.

He takes a drag of the cigarette and heartily chuckles at you.

What he quipped next is what really stunned you, because then, it clicked, and it all made much more sense to you.

"Go tell James to finish you off."

♓︎𝔞𝔱𝔢

Lars’ dick is not vegan Kirk…

when in doubt, dime that shit out

are U lot being held hostage ? 🤔

😊

lar looks so cute hehe :3

I wish these guys were real

racists, homophobes, bigots, misogynists, and other idiots.

fuckadiddily do, i put a fucktard spell

on you.

∧＿∧

　 (｡･ω･｡)つ━☆・*。

⊂/　 /　 ・゜

　しーＪ　　　 °。+ * 。　

　　　　　 .・゜

　　　　　 ゜｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ。

　　　　 　ﾟ。　 　｡ﾟ

　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

peace be upon you 🪷🖖

we are ⋆˚࿔ ♓︎𝔞𝔱𝔢 & ♌︎𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

two assholes who love writing and all things rock ‘n roll!

feel free to send in your requests. your wish MAY be our command ;-) we don't care of who and definitely not of what, if we don't know 'em hell, we'll figure it out Xx — we ARE the voice of the depraved mentally ill fans!

“So ladies, stand your ground. Just because they’re rockstars doesn’t mean you have to be what they want you to be. Be who you want to be for them.” ‎

- Groupielations 18:18

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ •🍓•⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ