Telling My Kids Kurt Cobain Was Jesus Christ

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LIL PRINCESS JASON CURTIS NEWSTED RAWRRRRRRRRRR🦅💥🗣️🗣️🔥🔥💥🎂💥🔥🔥🔥💥🎉🦅🦅💥💥💥💥🎉🎂💥💥🗣️🎉🎊🎊🎂🎂🎂👏👏👏

hii, could you please write about dave/lars rough sex or hatesex? something like putting lars in his place, yk. thank you!

𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄/𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐒 - 𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐔𝐩

warnings: anal sex, rough sex, hate sex, no prep, degradation, choking, brief violence, no aftercare, brat taming (?)

thanks for the wonderful idea anon! didn’t know I needed this in my life

nsfw under the cut :)

Megadeth and Metallica are playing the same music festival—things have been cordial between Dave and the rest of the band, but Lars has been doubling over on his bitchiness disguised as wanting to “reconcile”. Dave’s getting tired of it, even as he puts on a tough front. 

And they’re soon alone in a room. Lars said he wanted to talk, smiling at him from across the room sardonically.

Dave rolls his eyes at Lars' mocking smile. Lars has been nothing but a thorn in Dave's side lately, and he's grown tired of his antics.

His ex was a handful to deal with, and his attempts at “reconciliation” were really just mean-spirited words with second meanings and sugared smiles. He doesn’t know how that new guy Jason would deal with them—hell, he’s heard that the poor lad’s been hazed. Maybe he should call him sometime—but not now.

Dave steps closer to Lars, the anger in his eyes palpable, "Lars, what's your problem man? Why you gotta be such a dick all the time?"

“I don’t have a problem, Dave.”

"Oh, really?" Dave scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, "Then why do you keep throwing those damn snide remarks my way? You think it's funny to mess with me like this?"

“You’re the one who keeps reacting to them.”

"Cause they're annoying!" Dave snaps, his voice rising. "Why can't you just leave me alone instead of poking and prodding all the time?"

“Be the bigger man.” Lars drawls, that snarky look in his eye. He’s tempted to smack him silly…

Dave grits his teeth, Lars's words only serving to stoke the fire of his temper. "I already am, you fucking fairy.” “Call me that again,” says the harmless kitten to the ferocious tiger.

“I’ll call you whatever the hell I want, fairy.” Dave scornfully spits, getting up in Lars’ personal space.

Lars uses the flat side of his palm to push the hollow of Dave’s shoulder socket. “Go fuck yourself. Still bitter we broke up and I left you for Kirk?” Dave stumbles a few steps back from the push, rubbing his shoulder. "Please, you're one to talk," he shoots back, a bitter edge to his voice. "I'm not the one who ended things to go chase after some long-haired pretty boy."

He can't help but feel a pang of bitterness with the words, the memories of their break up still fresh in his mind. It had been a messy affair, and Dave had taken it hard. He knew he shouldn’t let Lars get under his skin like this, but sometimes it’s hard to hold back.

"Maybe if you had more to offer, I wouldn't have left your sorry ass." Lars shoots back, a smug smile on his lips.

Dave's eyes narrowed at the smirk on Lars's lips. "I’d leave you for Kirk too. Pretty little thing.” Lars’ green eyes narrow to hear slits, throwing his hair over his shoulder. 

“Talk about my man again. Do it.”

Dave raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, did I strike a nerve? You get all possessive when it comes to your little guitar boy toy? I could take him from you any day. It’s not like you’re packing down there anyway."

Lars grits his teeth, coming up into Dave’s face. “Keep his name out your dirty mouth.”

Dave leans in, not backing down from the challenge, "Why? Are you worried I'll steal your precious little Kirk? Or is it the other way around? Maybe he's already eyeing his next guitar daddy."

He can see the irritation mounting in Lars’ face, and Dave can't help but revel in how easy it is to get under his skin. It's obvious Lars has a soft spot when it comes to Kirk, and Dave knows how to press all the right buttons.

Lars grabbed the collar of Dave’s shirt in his curled fist, dragging Dave down to his height so that they were nose-to-nose. “You really know how to make someone fucking mad. This is why you were booted from the band.”

Dave felt his temper flare as Lars grabbed his collar, yanking him down. He returned the glare, meeting Lars's eyes without faltering.

"Oh, spare me the high and mighty act," He snapped back. "You only kicked me out cause you knew I was a better musician than you’d ever be."

Lars’ fist curls—he just might swing and ruin Dave’s stupidly pretty face. Dave sees the fury in Lars's eyes, and he doesn't back down, even as he braces for the impending punch. Instead, he sneers, "Hit me. I dare you."

“You really asking for it?” Lars asks, his arm tensing as he draws it back in preparation to smack that smug look off Dave’s face. The ginger holds his ground, the smirk on his lips refusing to waver. “Come on. Do it. Show your fragile little ego at its finest.”

Lars’ lips twist into a snarl, and he really just might knock Dave silly. Dave's heart thumps in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He braces for the impact, knowing better than to back down now.

"What's the matter, fairy? Can't handle a little challenge?"

And Lars’ fist meets the side of his face. It’s a lot stronger than he expected, but he’s felt worse.

The blow lands hard, Dave's head snapping to the side with the force. He stumbles a couple steps back, hand coming up to his cheek instinctively.

"Is that all you've got?" Dave sneers, spitting out a bit of blood from where his teeth had dug into his lip.

The tension-filled couple of days leading up to their conflict had built up to this very moment—Lars and Dave moved from throwing words to punches. As the anger and tension between the two reached its boiling point, words turned into blows, and the fight escalated.

Dave lunged at Lars, throwing another punch aimed at his face. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed in the air as he made contact, his knuckles aching from the impact. 

Lars’ head snaps to the side, and his skin is quick to redden, showing off the force of Dave’s fist with his cheekbone. He’s sure there’s a bruise forming as he turns back to face Dave, and he reaches for Dave’s longer hair to yank at.

Dave lets out a pained cry as Lars grabbed a fistful of his hair. Instinctively, he reaches up to grab hold of Lars's hand, trying to free his hair from the other man's ruthless grip.

"You're a real cocksucker, you know that?" Dave grits out through clenched teeth, his eyes filled with uncensored rage. He reached out, remembering the one move that made Lars drop anything he was doing.

He reached forward and roughly pinched his nipples, hard.

Lars automatically released his grip on Dave’s hair, letting out a half-yelp-half-moan.

Dave couldn't help but smirk as Lars released his hair, feeling a rush of triumph at the sound that escapes the man's lips. It's the reaction he was looking for, and he leans in with a taunting edge to his voice.

"You still whimper like a girl when I do that, huh?"

Lars’ face was red in embarrassment and anger—Dave always played dirty.

Dave's smirk grew wider as he saw the redness on Lars's face—it was a combination of embarrassment and anger, a reaction he had grown all too familiar with.

"Still can't handle a little pinch, huh?" Dave teases, his voice dripping with condescension.

He considers his options, and he has nothing else to loose, so in a swift motion, Lars grabs Dave’s hair in an iron grip and smashes their lips together.

Dave lets out a surprised noise as Lars grips his hair and pulls him into a rough, bruising kiss. The shock only lasts a moment, though, and then he's responding in kind, meeting Lars's aggression with his own hunger.

Their mouths mash together, all teeth and raw aggression. It's hard to tell who's in control, who's dominating this kiss, but one thing's for sure—there's no lack of passion, no lack of intensity.

Dave claws at Lars’ shirt, blunt nails raising red lines across the skin of his back. Lars has a tight hold on Dave’s hair, keeping him against his mouth. Being a little cunt, he even bites down hard on Dave’s tongue, sending tiny tears into Dave’s eyes.

Dave can't help but wince as Lars bites down hard on his tongue, the sharp pain drawing out a grunt of protest. But he doesn't pull away, doesn't back down, instead he responds with a tug on Lars's bottom lip, his teeth sinking in harder.

He's clawing at the fabric of Lars's shirt, his nails leaving red lines on the skin of the man's back. The heat between them is almost palpable, raw and fierce.

Lars pulls away for a moment—his lips are red and saliva-slick, but he doesn’t care. Dave backs him into a wall, larger frame looking over him as he feels the ginger bite and suck at his skin with as much vigour as a rabid dog.

Dave has Lars in a firm, almost possessive grip, his lean figure caging the shorter man against the hard surface. He's biting and sucking at Lars's skin with a voracious passion, the taste of the man's flesh and the feel of it beneath his teeth driving him wild.

He's pressing closer, every line of their bodies melded together. Lars might try to dominate, but Dave has something to prove.

Lars groans, his fingers wrapping around Dave’s neck. Not enough to cut off airflow, but to send a message.

Dave can feel the tight grip around his neck, Lars's fingers encircling his flesh in a gesture that's both sensual and commanding. He responds with a guttural noise, both a protest and a thrill.

The pressure against his throat stirs something primal in him, a need for control, but also a hint of excitement. He responds by pressing down against Lars, grinding his body against his, their hips aligned, their muscles taut.

Lars moans, his thumbs caressing the sides of Dave’s neck, pressing down on his carotid arteries. It’s enough o make Dave’s head spin hazily and for his aching hardness to increase.

Dave's skin tingles at the touch of Lars's thumbs along the sides of his neck, a moan escaping his lips as the pressure increases. His head feels light, and he can feel his body responding to the touch, heat pooling in his groin and a dizzying rush of sensation coursing through him.

"You little prick," he grits out, the words low and ragged, "You're playing dirty."

“You’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” He drawls, taking advantage of Dave’s closeness to grind his teeth down on Dave’s lower lip.

"Can't help it you like it dirty,” Dave retorts, his voice a low growl. The bite on his lip makes his breath catch in his throat, a jolt of pleasure mixed with pain running through him.

He tightens his grip on Lars, pulling the man even closer—their bodies are flush, the heat between them almost overwhelming. He responds by retaliating with equal enthusiasm, his hand moving down to palming the growing tent in Lars’ jeans.

Lars sucks in a breath, the brunette pressing a little bit harder on Dave’s throat.

Dave feels the squeeze on his throat intensifies, drawing out a gasp from his lips. The lack of oxygen is doing something to his brain, making him delirious with need. His hips jerks forward, seeking friction.

He can't take his eyes off Lars, the look in the man's eyes that's both dangerous and arousing. "Keep that up, and I'll make you beg like a dog."

“I can choke you out.” Lars drawls, and the threat sounds pathetic. 

Dave lets out an annoyed huff, trying to ignore the arousal the words provoke, the image they paint in his mind. "You can try.”

Lars sneers, and Dave moved them away from the wall over to a nearby table—the door is locked and the room is safely isolated from anyone else. Dave slams Lars’ chest down on the table, making him bend at the hips.

There's a fierce look in Dave's eye as he stands behind Lars, hands roughly grabbing his hips to hold him in place.

Lars winced as his chest hit the table, and he feels a strong hand pin his neck down flat, another undoing his fly with practised ease. Dave takes a moment to admire the sight of Lars bent over the table, pinned beneath his grip. His fingers move nimbly, working on the button and zipper of the man's jeans.

"You've really pushed my buttons," he mutters, his voice thick with irritation and desire.

“Boo Hoo.” Lars bites back, looking up at Dave through the corner of his eye. "Don't get smart, you little piece of shit." Dave responds, digging his nails cruelly into the flesh of Lars's hips. "You brought this on yourself."

“You gonna shut up and fuck me or are your panties still in a twist?” Lars snarks, unflinching at the bite of Dave’s nails.

The taunt sparks a flare of annoyance in Dave, as if Lars's words were an extra push on a sensitive nerve.

"Watch your mouth," he warns, delivering a sharp slap across Lars's bare ass. "I'm not taking your smart-ass attitude, got it?" Lars moans, enjoying the sting that came with the smack. The ginger hated Lars with a passion, but god did he love taming that stupid little brat.

Dave can see the effect his slap has on Lars, the way he moans and arches his back slightly. Dave knows it's a dangerous game they're playing, the line between pain and pleasure is razor thin, but the fact that he can get under Lars's skin like this is too good to pass up.

His hand comes down again, this time with more force, making the sound echo loudly in the small, secluded room.

Lars groans louder, and he turns his head back, needing to egg Dave on to fuck him with another statement. “Course’ you know how to smack someone—bet you do it all the time with Junior..” 

Dave's face twists in annoyance. Lars's mention of Junior is a low blow, and it hits the target. The man isn't playing fair, but Dave isn't above dirty tricks himself.

"You know how to push my buttons," he growls, leaning down so that he's close to Lars's ear. His teeth graze the flesh of Lars's earlobe as he speaks. "Don’t fuckin’ say his name ever again."

There's a possessive edge to his voice, a hint of a threat behind his words. Dave won't stand for talk of his precious bassist, Junior, in their moments together. It's a line he won't allow Lars to cross.

Despite giving the warning, Dave doesn't want to focus on that right now, he's already pushed to the limit of his patience and there's something else that needs his attention. His hands grab at the waist of Lars's jeans, tugging them roughly further down to his ankles.

A tingle of excitement shoots up Lars’ spine, and he feels Dave’s hands move off him. Dave takes a moment to admire the sight of Lars, half-undressed and bent over the table waiting for him. He reaches for the bottle of lube he keeps in his pocket, opening it up with a snap.

"Lift your hips a little higher," he instructs, his voice rough. 

“Make me.”

Dave's nostrils flare at Lars's defiant tone. The little brat is trying his patience, but he can't deny that his defiance only makes him more eager to take him down a peg.

"You're really asking for it, aren't you," he retorts, his hands moving to grasp Lars's hips, pushing up on them so that his ass is angled up. "You're a real pain in the ass, you know that? Should do you raw for that.."

Lars considers holding back on the snark—he’d rather not be bleeding from his ass the next few days. But he knows Dave isn’t that cruel…he thinks. The older man has a hand on his hips, bruisingly tight in his vice grip. 

Dave can feel the tension between them crackling in the air. He's on the edge, and the thought of taking Lars rough and unprepared is a temptation. But he knows where the line is, knows not to cross it.

"You think I won't do it, don't you" He mutters, challenging tone in his voice.

“You won’t.” Lars says so superbly smug.

Dave growls, the stubbornness in Lars's voice fueling his annoyance. "You're sure of yourself, aren't you? You think you know me so well?” He’s determined to prove Lars wrong, so he takes it upon himself to do the bare minimum, to make sure it hurt.

There's a pause as Dave uncaps the bottle of lube, squeezing a generous amount onto his hand, slicking up his cock. He’s not going to be nice, not a single bit.

Dave lines himself up with Lars. The Dane pauses. “Hey, wait—“

"What, have you changed your mind now?" Dave taunts, his hands still on Lars's hips, holding him in place. He doesn’t wait for Lars before he’s pushing in.

A squeal of pain escapes Lars, his eyes blown wide. He’s not prepped, so the discomfort increases tenfold. 

Dave cruelly snaps his hips forward into Lars, fisting his brown waves and forcing his head up. Lars, ever a slut for pain, moans and whimpers pathetically. 

“Stop—slow down!” Lars protests. Dave leans down to growl in Lars’ ear, “You ask me to stop like you hate it. I know you’re a fucking slut for pain, you masochist.” 

Lars’ cheeks and ass burn, one from embarrassment and the other from the stretch. The derogatory words somehow arouse him even further, the burning in his loins spiking, electric currents snaking up his spine.

Dave’s violently rutting into Lars like his life depended on it, ruthlessly hitting the younger man’s prostate dead-on. The burning stretch in his hole and the jolts of pleasure mix together in a mind-melting combination, and Lars can’t help but whine whorishly. 

Drilling into him with such vigour, Dave knows his thighs will be sore tomorrow, but he doesn’t really care. All that matters is fucking Lars till he can’t walk and leaving him like that. 

Maybe it’d teach him a lesson on being a cunt.

Dave’s hand lets go of Lars’ hair and moves to wrap his rough hand around the small expanse of Lars’ throat. The bastard whines when Dave pressed down on his carotids, lack of blood flowing to his brain doubling the pleasure he was drowning in.

Dave uses his neck as a small leverage as he brutally pistons his hips, his girthy cock splitting Lars into two. Dave grunts into Lars’ ear, his nails biting into the delicate skin of the Dane’s neck, littered with hickeys and rough bites. 

“Do you whore yourself out to anyone who’ll take you? I’m sure James has fucked you at least once, Kirk definitely does, and maybe that Jason kid too. You this much of a slut for all of ‘em?” Dave mocks, hand squeezing tighter around Lars’ neck. 

He thinks that his neck might snap, but his mind is going fuzzy and his vision is blurring out every few seconds. Somehow, the intense choking makes his orgasm crash down on him like bricks, splattering the concrete a milky white as his own vision fades to black.

The shorter man seizes around Dave every few seconds, the ginger’s climax building as his balls draw tight. With the consistent fluttering of Lars around him, Dave tightens his hold, and shoots his load deep in the confines of Lars’ ass. 

He stands there, hunched over the younger man for a few seconds. Then he pulls out and releases Lars, wiping the come off his cock onto the boy’s shirt. He tucks himself back into his pants and zips himself up, leaving an unconscious Lars bent over and used on the table, come dripping down his thighs, walking out the room, whistling, as if that never happened. 

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊/𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐒 - 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

warnings: anal sex, riding, getting caught, getting blue balled

I’ve been putting off posting this for the longest time so here you go

nsfw under the cut :)

Kirk leaned against the couch, condensation dripping onto his pants from the beer in his hand. Usually, he’d care to sit it down on the coffee table, but right now his eyes were fixed on the Dane in front of him, bent over and rummaging through a pile of old VHS tapes. 

“We got ‘The Thing’? Or do you wanna watch ‘Dracula’ first?” Lars called from the pile. Kirk shrugged—not like Lars could see him do it. 

“Anything. It’s not like I haven’t watched them a million times.” 

Kirk can practically feel Lars roll his eyes. “‘The Thing’ it is.” And when Lars stands again, Kirk almost frowns at the loss. He settled into the seat next to Kirk after slipping the tape in, and he switched the lights off. 

Kirk soon enough forgot about Lars’ ass, and focuses on the film, mindlessly absorbed into the film, fingers oily from popcorn. Lars, unfortunately for Kirk, seemed like he had to give his opinion on everything that the characters did in the movie. 

“He’s not having a heart attack, dumbass! He’s obviously the thing!” Lars raised an arm and pointed at the screen agitatedly. This is why Kirk watched movies with Cliff, not the Dane. 

When Copper used the defibrillator on Norris the second time, his arms plunged into the mouth cavity of Norris’ metamorphosised body. Lars cried out again. 

“I told you! Told you he was! Ain’t that right?” Kirk sighed internally. “Yeah, man.” Lars muttered more bullshit about how he predicted everything, thinking he was some sort of clairvoyant. Kirk had seen the movie a million times, and from day one even he knew what was going to happen, but it seemed that Lars prided himself on having basic common sense.

Three beers down and watching the next few movies, Lars is spewing nonsense again—one more beer and he’d sound like a conspiracy theorist. Kirk would ask him to shut up, but he’s well past caring, his alcohol-addled mind choosing to muffle out Lars’ incessant yapping.

When Lars finally shuts up, Kirk doesn’t register. He’s enthralled by the movie when he hears Lars’ voice right by his ear. “Kirk.” The Filipino startles, popcorn jostling in his bowl. “Shit, what?” He asked, leaning away from him. 

“I’ve been calling you for like…this long.” Lars holds his arms out like a child in his inebriated state. “Whaddya want?” Kirk groans, rubbing his strained eyes. The Dane tilts his head like a curious dog, only lit by the blueish light from the TV. “I’m horny.” 

Kirk sputters. “Seriously?” His face flushed further, avoiding eye contact with him, eyes glued to the screen. Lars hummed in response, fingers trailing up Kirk’s thigh tentatively. He shivered, grasping Lars’ wrist. “Cant we just watch this..?” he slurs, but Lars insists on bothering him further by resting a hand on his chest, staring up at him with half-lidded eyes. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of Lars’ drunken grin, both of them drunk. Kirk barely retained any of his sobriety. 

“Please..?” Lars whispers, leaning in close with his breath ghosting against the shell of Kirk’s ear. It’s too hard to resist, to say no, and his decisions are influenced by the alcohol—so he lets Lars crawl on top of him, cling to him like glue and latch on with his lecherous teeth. 

The movie now plays forgotten in the background, the eerie horror now white noise. Lars lets his hands roam over Kirk’s tanned skin, warm against his cold hands. Goosebumps trail in his wake, skin pulling taut and hairs standing to attention. He’s like a vampire, lips attached to Kirk’s neck. He bites and sucks and laps over his skin greedily, making the older man squirm. Kirk’s hands rest on Lars’ narrow hips, cock already twitching in his boxers. 

Lars grinds against him, a strangled moan escaping his parted lips as he throws his head back. Kirk bucks his hips upwards, chasing the delicious friction. His fingers dig into the cool flesh of Lars’ waist under his shirt. 

Lars soon stops his grinding, and Kirk whines at the loss. But it’s all worth it because Lars shoves his pants down and tugs Kirk’s shorts off, hips hovering above Kirk’s erection. Maybe Lars had planned this, because the sneaky fuck had lube in his bag. He lubed up his own fingers and loosely stretched himself out, before slicking up Kirk and sinking down. 

Kirk chokes on his saliva—Lars wasted no time bouncing up and down on his cock like he was made for it. Jesus, either he loved the stretch or he had no feeling down there. Kirk’s hands rested on his hips again, following his movements with eagerness. 

“Fuck, Lars—Jesus, slow down..” Kirk drawled out, trying to keep up with the younger man. “I’m horny,” Lars repeats with a gasp, moaning out like a pornstar. Kirk was used to Lars’ already unusually high libido, but when he was drunk was a whole thing. “God—so good…thick fuckin cock.” Lars praises, the words going straight to Kirk’s head. 

“Fuck, you’re good..” He babbles on, spewing praises like Kirk’s the messiah. Kirk tips his head back, breathy whines escaping his lips. His hips buck upwards, meeting Lars halfway so that his cockhead brushes against Lars’ prostate maddeningly. 

Lars can feel his orgasm building up quick, with the way his cock pulses in sync with his heartbeat, standing tall and blurting precome. Kirk slams Lars’ hips down, and Lars grips his shoulders to hang on for the ride. Kirk screws his eyes shut and moves Lars’ hips up and down faster.

Lars moans, loud, and Kirk relishes in the sweet sounds. He wanted to hear more, see what else he could draw out of him. They’re both soon to reach their climax.

Until.

The clattering of keys and heavy-booted footsteps can be heard coming in fast from down the hallway, and the two freeze. 

They sober up in an instant, and Lars tries to pull off Kirk’s cock but there’s no time. They’re too late—the door opens, and James’ voice can be heard. 

“Hey guys—oh my god!”

Kirk and Lars share the same horrified expression—like they’d witnessed a murder. But nothing can beat the look on James’ face. James sounds and looks disgusted, covering his eyes like a child. Cliff is behind him, and he merely shakes his head like a disappointed parent. 

Kirk could feel the pressure in his gut immediately dissipate. Lars as well, both so close to a satisfying end, only to be stopped. 

“Yeah, I’m gone.” James gags, stumbling out the room dramatically. Cliff watches him for a second before turning back to them. He speaks like a parent chastising his children.

“Lock the door next time.” 

When Lars and Kirk are finally alone, their desires melted away, it’s awkward. So awkward, now that they’re thinking more clearly. Lars shifts uncomfortably on Kirk’s lap.

“Wow. They just blue balled us. What the hell!” He groaned, pulling himself off Kirk’s now flaccid dick. His own has softened, and he tosses Kirk’s pants to him while pulling his own up. What a way to have their night ruined. 

They would remind themselves to walk in on Cliff and James on purpose next time.

I’ve been so busy brah I’ve neglected this account💔 I’m sorry chat I promise I’ll post real soon

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒/𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 - 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐫 (𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜)

hi guys I know I haven’t been online much recently (exams💔) but to make it up to you guys this is a series I’m working on rn!! it’s a 3 part series that I plan to finish really soon (within the next week hopefully) and uhh yeah!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63466180/chapters/162621559

snippet:

By this time the sun has completely set, leaving the street cast in the soft glow of street lamps. Jason peers through the window, expecting the guy to be gone by now, or at least distracted by something. However, the guy is still standing where he left him, arms folded across his chest with a cigarette between his index and middle finger. He takes a long drag, his eyes on Jason’s window, as if to say ‘I knew you’d be back’. Damn it.

It’s not his fault his studio directly overlooks the man’s house. And it’s also not his fault the guy is too eye-catching to ignore.

Jason swallows. Hard. He can’t look away, and he’s pretty sure if he tried to, he’d just look like a weird, shifty-eyed creep. So he awkwardly locks eyes with the guy across the way, who still has his gaze fixed on his face. The guy’s gaze is strong and unwavering, his ocean-blue eyes locked unwaveringly on Jason. Jason’s heart quickens under this intense gaze. The man, almost as if sensing his rising unease, offers a smile. Charming, almost teasing in the manner.

Fuck, Jason might’ve creamed his pants a little.

Jason swallows again, and to say he was feeling a little self-conscious right now was a huge understatement. This guy was attractive as hell, and the fact that he was standing across from him, arms folded, looking completely at ease, in the dark with only street lamps providing light, wasn’t helping. He looked like some kind of model, or something. Jason was getting a little flustered. His heart is beating a little too fast, now.

Besides that—what was he doing outside? Just smoking?

Jason is pulled out of his thoughts when the guy, without breaking eye contact, brings the cigarette to his lips and takes a long drag. The guy’s eyes flutter shut as he does this, looking completely blissed out for a moment before opening his eyes and exhaling a long puff of smoke. That is unfairly attractive. And it’s unfair to Jason.

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊/𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 - 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲

warnings: drug usage, drinking to cope, first time(s), anal sex, sad sex

nsfw under the cut :)

Jason had drunk himself into a stupor. Both to forget the hazing from his bandmates and to numb the pain of being their punching bag, both metaphorically and physically.

That night’s show was a disaster in his eyes—his bass had mysteriously gone out during “My Friend of Misery”, preventing his beautiful bass solo from getting played. That, coupled with the fact that James and Lars nitpicked everything he did on stage after the show.

His eyes glazed over, slumped over on the couch as he thought. When he got drunk, he wasn’t boisterous like James, he wasn’t a gossiper like Lars or plain stupid like Kirk. He was quiet. Reserved. Lost in thought and sat to the side in thoughtful silence. 

Alone in his hotel room drinking a 6-pack all by himself, joint resting on an ashtray. Millions and millions of thoughts filled his head. Like a hot air balloon that threatened to burst, he quelled his thoughts with another puff of his joint. 

You could always rely on a good beer and joint combo to blank out any bad thoughts. 

He’s getting through the night already, he can’t tell what time it is but it sure as hell felt like forever. Jason had the windows open, the soft, cool wind blowing in, mixing with the smell of pot and the beer laden on his breath. 

When he’s finally unwinding, he’s coiled taut again by the sharp rapping against his foot. He places down his fourth beer of the night and stubs out his blunt, standing to open the door. 

And there stood the root sources of his own self-destructive act. 

“Can I help you guys?” He asked, slurring his words ever so slightly, door half-open. He knows he looks like a mess, his hair sticking up, eyes bloodshot and clearly zooted. The smell of weed drifts from his room into the hallway, and Jason’s eyes strain at the brightness in the hallway.

“Oh..uh…” started Lars. Jason tilted his head, waiting for whatever he had to say. “We were just wondering what you were doing since you left the afterparty so early.”

Jason shrugs. “Wasn’t in the mood.” James scoffs softly. “Obviously in the mood to drink and smoke by yourself.” In no mood to entertain them, he raised his eyebrows over half-lidded eyes. 

“Now you know what I was doing. G’night.” 

“Hey, wait—“

Before he can shut his door, a shoe blocks it in the last second. Jason holds back the urge to groan. “What?” He says annoyedly, opening the door a fraction to peek out. 

“Listen, you need to stop acting like a spoiled child. It isn’t our fault your bass went out.” James says defensively. Jason wants to roll his eyes. Wants to yell at him and say that it was, that he had planned it all, that he was the mastermind. But even in his inebriated state, he retained his sobriety and retained his temper.

“Uhuh.” Was all he had to say, rubbing one of his reddened eyes. “Jesus Christ…whatever, get mad at us. See if we care.” He saw James and Lars storm off in the other direction, no doubt speaking ill of him behind his back and planning their next “prank”. And as he moved to close his door, he was stopped again, but not by force this time.

“Wait.” 

He almost wanted to cry out in frustration. But he didn’t. He couldn’t be temperamental. He couldn’t. After all, he was supposed to be the calm one. 

Kirk stood outside his door—previously overshadowed by the two biggest egos in the hallway, Jason barely noticed his presence. But now it was the two of them. 

“..Yeah..?” Jason couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice. Kirk was always the most passive among the other three with his hazing, if one could even call it that. Sure, he participated in the beginning, but he got over his grief, and acknowledged Jason as another person with feelings. Not like he was a puppet built to destroy like James and Lars thought he was. 

“Can I come in? I just..I wanna talk.” Kirk stood in front of the gap in the door now, eyes locking with Jason’s. Against his better judgement, Jason opened the door. Kirk was let in, and Jason closed the door behind him, making sure to lock it. 

“I’m sorry about what happened…I didn’t know-“ “It’s fine. It’s not like you would’ve done anything like this. I think.” Kirk awkwardly shifted his weight from foot to foot. It hurt slightly to hear Jason speak like that.. “You can sit.”

Kirk flopped next to Jason, the two sitting and facing the open balcony window. The moonlight shone down with her smile, her crescent smile familiar to Jason after nights being alone and contemplating his decisions. 

“The guys don’t know what they’re doing. And I don’t take responsibility for their actions. But they’ll understand, not now, but maybe when they’re 40.” Kirk’s words are almost comforting. 

Almost. 

But it hurts. The reassurance of their realisation only when they’ve seen the world and what it’s for hurts. Why couldn’t they have their moment of clarity now? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to Jason. But nothing was ever fair since Cliff passed. 

“It’s okay.” He mumbled. Kirk rested his head against Jason’s shoulder. It’s an intimate gesture—it’s not playful like when they’re in interviews or posing in photos. It’s like Kirk sees him. Sees through him and sees him right to his core.

“I’m sorry. About what I did. And what I didn’t do to stop them.” Jason wants to laugh bitterly. He knows that Kirk won’t do anything to stop them, not now and not anytime soon. As much as he’d like to believe his words, they’re as real as the groupies he hears them bang every night. 

They sit in silence. Contemplating. As if they had the same thought: “Jason’s suffering.” They share the same mind, even if it’s for a split second. 

It’s the closeness of Kirk to him, the way his warmth spreads and seeps through his clothes onto the cold husk of himself. He wants to believe those little white lies. He wants to believe that this would all stop. But how can one fool themself so easily? 

Kirk lifts his head and looks up at Jason. Jason looks back down at him. All this thinking and sitting in silence sobers him up further. Having deep thoughts drunk and high was fun, till it was with someone else. He always needed to retain control, before he let anything he didn’t mean to say aloud slip out. 

And when their gazes lock, the warmth in the eyes of Kirk’s enveloping the stony greyish blue in Jason’s, he wants to melt. Kirk looks at him with such tenderness. One unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. 

And before he can pull away his gaze, Kirk leans upwards, a hand caressing Jason’s jaw tenderly as his lips meet Kirk’s. Nothing properly registers in the younger man’s mind till Kirk slips a hand through his mussed curls, eyes closed. Once again, the loving action foreign, but not…unwelcome? 

Jason accept the gesture, albeit tentatively. What if Lars and James set him up to this? But it couldn’t be, that moment was too real and too raw to be a prank. You could fake depth but you couldn’t fake sincerity. 

And Kirk kissed him with all the sincerity of a long-lost lover finding his other half. 

Jason’s on his back now, hair sprawled out like an auburn halo, and Kirk thinks that he must be God’s favourite angel. 

So Kirk takes off each article of clothing all gentle and all tender, like he would shatter Jason if he were too rough. And as much as he hated being treated like a fragile little thing, it wasn’t derogatory with Kirk. It was all worshipful and admiration. 

Kirk maps out the plane expanses of Jason’s body with his hands, tracing each beauty mark and contour with his hands. Kirk was never like this with Lars, who liked it all teeth and friction and crazed lovemaking. It was a nice change of pace from the Dane. 

When Kirk’s hands slip lower and lower, Jason, always a loud presence on stage, let out a soft whine. Jason, who was all growls and guttural vocals, let himself a moment of vulnerability with Kirk. Fondling him now, the auburn man is all breathy gasps and pathetic little whines. It eggs Kirk on, and Jason mewls while bucking up into his hand. 

His hand moves faster, and they kiss again, as tender and loving as the first. Jason grants him that, that small sliver of his true side, and Kirk savours it like a drug. Jason gasps and writhes and moans Kirk’s name, and he drinks it all in. With Lars, he was the one getting boned six days from Sunday, but now he got to give Jason what he always wanted to receive. 

When Jason’s spend coats his hand, the man moans so sweetly. It’s oh so damn intimate and genuine, and it’s not pornstar-eqsue and fake like with groupies. It’s not like the animalistic growls with Lars. Sugar to his ears, icing of sin dripping off an angelcake. 

He strips himself down to match Jason, and he glanced up for permission. To take him. To have him. To show him how much he cared and adored him. Jason sat up. 

“I’ve never done this before—been with a guy, I mean.” The hesitation is clear, but Kirk gives him a reassuring smile. “I’ll make it good. You just have to trust me.” Trust Jason does, settling into his back. Kirk finds the lube easily, abandoned and barely used. Jason could find girls easily, but what wasn’t easy was letting them in during this dark period of time. 

Jason trusts him, and that’s all he needs before he’s got his fingers slicked up and has Jason’s legs spread. 

“Deep breaths, okay? It’s gonna feel weird, tell me if I need to stop.” One lubed fingers pushes past the tight ring of muscle, and Jason groans. It’s not uncomfortable or painful, but it’s a unique sensation. Kirk thrusts this finger in and out gently, and Jason lets himself be pliant. 

“I’m gonna add another, is that okay?” Kirk caressed the side of Jason’s face, his middle finger ready. Jason nodded, and in slipped the second. There was a slight stretch that had Jason squirming, not exactly unwelcome, though. It felt unique and almost good—but it all changed when Kirk crooked the ends of his fingers by a few degrees, brushing past a spot that made him see stars. 

“Fuck—“, he choked on a moan and his body curved upward. Kirk stilled, concern welling in his eyes. “What..what was that?” “That was your g-spot. Let me find that again , and you’ll know why it’s called that.”

When Kirk crooks his fingers further, his knuckles rub against the rubbery ball of nerves that set Jason’s loins aflame. He keens, toes curling as he grips the sheets. Kirk smiles and continues his assault on that spot, stars sparkling behind his eyelids. “How does that feel?”

“Kirk—that’s..oh, fuck-!” Jason moans, the familiar pressure building in his belly, and he’s sure he might come just from that. It’s all so overwhelmingly good that his mind spins, already muddled from the beers. Kirk set a steady rhythm, curling and scissoring his fingers in a way that had Jason keening. 

“Good?” The older man asks. It felt good to make Jason feel good, the bassist recently seemed to be down in the dumps after shows, no matter how high-energy he was on stage. “So good—“ he choked out, eyes squeezed shut as breathy moans escaped his parted lips. Precome pearled at his tip, dripping down the underside of his cock.

When Kirk retracts his fingers, he whines at the loss. “Why..” he asks, question left unspoken but understood. “I want you to come on my cock.” Flushing at the obscene words, Jason’s pale face went pink in a matter of seconds. How cute, Kirk thought. 

Squeezing a generous amount of lube, he slicked up his length, his clean hand pushing the hair out of Jason’s face. “You’re gorgeous, Jase.” He complimented, and Jason scoffs in embarrassment. 

Kirk lines himself up with Jason’s hole, and looks up at him for confirmation. The younger man nods, biting his lip. Kirk’s cock prods at him, before the head slips in. He lets Jason adjust, watching with care. 

Jason bites down a cry, Kirk softly rocking his hips and working Jason open further. It felt like he was being torn into two, unused to the stretch that came with having a dick up his ass. “Oh, fuuuck—“

Kirk’s hips stuttered as he felt the flutter of Jason’s hole around his dick, and it had Kirk gripping Jason’s hips tightly. Jason looked his hottest like this, back bowed in ecstasy and his ass stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey with Kirk’s dick. The elder carefully draped himself over Jason and tilted up his chin gently, leaning in against his chest and tilting his head so that he could look into his eyes. 

As he fucked him slow and gentle, they kept eye contact, Kirk analysing every expression Jason made. His face scrunched up, brow glistening with sweat.

Kirk was hitting Jason’s sweet spot dead in with each smartly calculated roll of his hips. Jason’s prostate felt raw, and it was all so much, it took everything not to come right then and there. Kirk gave him a particularly well-angled thrust, cock hitting Jason’s prostate like a bullseye. Kirk moans at his sheer tightness, gripping his thighs tight.

Kirk’s dick rubbed against it deliciously as he withdrew, only to slam in and nail it again, right on the dot. It made Jason arch his back into a taut bow against Kirk as the sparks lit up every nerve ending like lightning.

It was never-ending pleasure, and Jason didn’t even notice his orgasm, taking him by surprise when he spilled onto his chest. Kirk didn’t stop, still gently fucking into him and chasing his own pleasure now that Jason was satiated. With the younger man clenching around him like a vice, it was hard to continue past a few thrusts before he fills Jason, insides all warm and gooey. 

They lay there for a while, their panting filling the room. Their bodies are warm against the cool midnight air—it’s so serene and feels unreal. Everything blurs together. Their bodies and their passion and their shared intimacy under the gaze of the moon. 

Tender and soft, Jason’s curled against Kirk’s chest with his body painted with his and Kirk’s come, but he doesn’t mind. Kirk has an arm draped across his waist, breathing in the faint pot smell from Jason’s hair. 

Jason knows that Kirk’ll be gone in the morning, back in Lars’ bed like this encounter never happened. He was bound to Lars, and to leave him for Jason was unforgivable. This little affair was meant to be forgotten in the morning. To never be spoken of again, despite their passions for one another.

Kirk and Jason. Jason and Kirk. In another world they’d be inseparable. In another world, they’d be lovers. In another world, they wouldn’t have met the way they had. But God hates Jason, that’s why he makes him suffer. 

The one who suffers through it all, is God’s most beautiful angel. He is beautiful and he is pained, bound to fall far from God’s grace when the time comes. Bound to slip through Kirk’s fingers soon. 

So they’d let themselves have this. This tiny sliver of heaven a sanctuary to them, they, who are not granted it.

Ok it is december 1st.

Ovulating and had the biggest idea ever oh my god

sex crazed Jason who lacks access to groupies at a music festival so he has to get help with his sexual frustrations from the people around him

basically banging his whole band + a few extras

please tell me I’m not insane for wanting to write this

watching a year and a half

Me when they’re being mean to Jason