Latest Posts by n3wstxd - Page 2

mood rn

cats I think the metalliguys would be

Hiiii, friend! I say that your requests are open! 😉 I would really love if you could write a one shot of young, baby Lars wearing lingerie for older, silver haired daddy James? 🥵🥵 Thanks in advance!

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒/𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐒 - 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭

warnings: lingerie, age gap, fingering, anal sex, daddy kink, overstimulation, slight size difference, literally ripping panties off

nsfw under the cut :)

Lars scans his body in the mirror. He looks good, clad in lacy white lingerie. He’d done a little bit of online shopping a while back, and this particular set he had ordered had come in just in time for James’ birthday. The old man deserved a gift for treating Lars so well, pampering him and funding his lavish lifestyle.

There’s the familiar sound of boots tapping against the tiling of their house, one that Lars has associated with James. 

Hurriedly, the brunette scurries to hide behind the door to surprise his boyfriend. Less than a few seconds later James opens the door, expecting to see Lars waiting for him.

James lets himself inside his room, and he takes a couple of steps in. He notices that Lars isn’t waiting out for him on the bed like he usually is, and is about to wonder where he is before Lars pounces on him from behind the door.

Lars covers James’ eyes with his much smaller hands, tiptoeing and giggling as he asks: “Guess who?”

James chuckles. “Well, I wonder who it could possibly be,” he ponders dramatically as a smirk forms on his face, his hands coming up to rest on top of Lars’ ones covering his eyes.

“Might be… a squirrel? Or a jerboa?” He guesses, just to joke around as his fingers slide around Lars’ wrists in an effort to pull his hands away from his eyes.

Lars gasps in faux offence. “Jerboa? Squirrel? Seems I dressed up all nice just to be insulted.” He harrumphs, a pout on his peachy lips.

James laughs loudly at Lars’ reaction, amused by his boyfriend’s offended tone. He finally succeeds in removing Lars’ hands from his eyes, and turns around to face Lars, only to freeze once he sees the man’s current outfit.

Then, he lets out a low and approving whistle. “Damn, you’re gorgeous,” James breathes out, checking the younger man out from head to toe. “Is this my present, you little minx?”

“Happy birthday, old man.” 

Chuckling at Lars’ cheeky comment, James hums in acknowledgment before wrapping his arms around the smaller male and pulling him flush against his body. “You’re the only good thing to come outta turning sixty,” James murmurs, a wolfish grin on his handsome face.

“Mm,” he muses, eyeing the younger man’s scantily clad body admiringly. “You’re lookin’ damn good in that,” He comments, his large, calloused hands rubbing up and down Lars’ sides and down to his hips, eventually landing on his ass, where they give it a firm squeeze.

Lars moans, hands trailing down James’ broad chest. The older man teases the Dane by bringing his other hand to toy with the garter belt, snapping it against Lars’ hip.

“Look at this, you little minx,” James drawls, his voice rough and low, the same way it gets whenever he’s riled up. “Wearing all of this, lookin’ like a present for me to unwrap. Guess it’s my birthday everyday in this house,” He muses, his rough hands slowly roaming up and down the smaller male’s body, touching all over, admiring all the soft, smooth curves and planes of his pale flesh.

James begins to nip and kiss at Lars’ neck, the older man’s beard scraping against Lars’ skin. “You should dress like this all the time, baby,” He mutters against Lars’ nape, his teeth occasionally nipping at the soft flesh. “It’d be quite a sight,” He adds with a low chuckle.

“Yeah?” Lars grins, carding through James’ short silvery waves. His hands slide down to James’ neck, caressing so gently, his palms so soft compared to James’ coarser ones.

James hums in affirmation, mouthing along Lars’ collarbones. “Mhm. I wouldn’t mind it at all if you walked around the house like this,” He mumbles, his hands continuing to roam around Lars’ small, lithe frame, squeezing and admiring the supple flesh.

“You’re pretty excited, eh, old man?” Lars says with a smirk, and he can definitely feel how excited James is, all because of him. “I take it you like your birthday present, then?”

James grunts. “Oh yeah, I’m definitely lovin’ my present. Best present I’ve gotten all day,” He quips, his large, rough hands still roaming all over the smaller man’s frame. “You definitely know how to keep daddy happy, don’t you, sweetheart?” He teases, his facial hair brushing against Lars’ nape.

“I try my best,” Lars replies, shuddering under James’ touch, the older man’s rough stubble scraping against his sensitive skin. His nimble fingers find their way to James’ shirt buttons, undoing them with ease, revealing the older man’s toned chest. He’s still so gorgeous even in his senior years.

James feels the smaller man’s hands undoing his shirt and he grins at Lars. “Eager, are we?” He teases, the feel of Lars’ nimble hands pulling off his shirt already arousing him.

He lets Lars pull off his shirt, discarding the offending fabric to the side and letting it crumple on the floor. “You little minx, always so impatient,” James murmurs, large arms wrapping around Lars to hold him close.

“It’s my fault you’re so sexy, old man,” Lars replies with a teasing smile, slim arms winding around James’ broad torso. He can’t reach all the way around, damn him. He does, however, take the opportunity to touch and feel the older man’s pecs and abs, tracing the once defined muscles with his thumbs.

James hums in approval, his own arms keeping Lars close against his bare chest, his hands settling on the small of the younger man’s back. 

“You’re not a bad sight yourself, baby,” He says, gazing down at Lars, taking in everything: Lars’ sweet, pretty face, his slender figure, those lacy little panties… James’ thoughts are starting to run wild, his eyes glinting deviously.

He moves his hands lower down, large palms resting on Lars’ ass, fingers gripping the flesh and squeezing it. “My pretty little sugar baby,” he chuckles, and Lars can’t help but shudder under his deep, velvety voice. “Did you do all this for me? Just for my birthday?”

The question is rhetorical, but Lars still nods as a response, grinning at James. “Yeah. All for you,” Lars purrs, and it never fails to arouse the older man when Lars speaks so sultrily.

“Mmm,” James hums, biting at Lars’ jaw. “You’re the only thing that makes me feel young,” He murmurs against Lars’ ear, his grip on the younger man’s ass tightening. “And the only thing that gets you hard?” James merely scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Lars laughs as James pulls him towards their bed, tossing him down like he’s weightless. Lars’ tiny frame hit the mattress and his laughter morphs into a huff the moment he does. 

He glances up at James from below as the older man looms over him, crawling on all fours like a predator on top of its prey. “Still got a lot of energy for a sixty year old,” Lars teases.

“Damn right I do,” James grins, settling himself in between Lars’ legs, his large, calloused hands sliding up Lars’ smooth thighs, fingers tracing the lace garters. His gaze darkens, looking at his lover beneath him, all dressed up just for him.

“You gonna take it off?” Lars goads, but that’s far from what James wanted.

“Oh no,” He chuckles, his large hands sliding up to rest on the younger man’s waist and giving it a light squeeze, big thumbs rubbing circles against his pale skin. “No, I like it on you, sweetheart.”

“I want you to keep it on for a while,” James continues, a sly smirk forming on his handsome face. His large hands begin to slowly, very slowly, and teasingly, slide up Lars’ thighs again.

Lars lets out an involuntary gasp, feeling James’ rough palms touching his sensitive skin. The younger man lets his legs fall open a bit wider, a silent invitation for James to go on. And James is more than willing to accept.

James lets his hands wander higher, now tracing the expanse of Lars’ stomach and up to his chest, before finally settling on the lace covering his pectorals. His thumbs brush over the pebbled, pert nubs hidden under the lace, the action making the younger male shiver.

“Pretty little thing,” The older man murmurs, his rough hands gently caressing the sensitive buds, his touches firm and deliberate. Below him, Lars whimpers, hips arching up to meet James’ touch.

“James, please,” Lars whines, writhing under the older man’s touch, slender leg wrapping around James’ hip. “Please, don’t tease me.” He looks up at James through his lashes, his eyes big and dark, his mouth parted in a pretty little o-shape.

James can’t help but chuckle at Lars’ needy plea, but he does stop the slow, torturous touching, for now. He reaches over to his bedside table and opens the drawer, rummaging around inside until he pulls out a bottle of lube.

“Good,” Lars whispers, watching as James uncaps the bottle and pours a decent amount onto his palm. The brunette sucks in a shuddering breath when he catches sight of the thick, calloused, and large fingers now coated in lube, and it doesn’t take much to guess what’s next.

What he doesn’t expect is James reaching down and ripping the gusset of his panties off in one swift move. 

He’s startled by the sharp, sudden action, and he lets out something between a gasp and a yelp, his eyes wide as he looks down at his now ruined underwear, now with a decent sized slit in the material.

“Those were expensive, old man!” Lars protests, but is quickly cut off as James shushes him, fingers now rubbing against his exposed hole. “I’ll buy you some new ones, baby,” James mutters, and Lars lets out a groan, forgetting all about it.

Lars doesn’t mind having his expensive lace panties torn, if he’s being honest. It’s not like James can’t get him new ones anyway, and he can’t deny how hot it is being treated like this, like he’s a doll whose sole purpose is to be treated with care yet broken in the most delicious way.

“Damn, you’re so good for me, sweetheart,” He drawls, finger slowly working into Lars. “All dressed up just for me, in these pretty little things,” He continues, adding another digit to the first. “You know I’m not gonna be gentle tonight, don’t you?” 

Lars gasps, arching up into the thick fingers buried inside him. “Y-yeah,” He groans, his small hands gripping the sheets. “Ah, y-yeah, I know, Jamie.”

James huffs in response, his fingers working the younger man open, preparing him. “M’ gonna have a real good time tonight,” He mutters, and Lars can tell by the older male’s tone that he’s not going to be walking easy by the end of this.

“You’re taking it so well, baby,” James praises as his fingers begin scissoring to stretch the tight ring of muscles, “So good for me, aren’t you?” He leans down to kiss the younger man’s collarbones as his fingers press in up to the first knuckle, and Lars whines, eyes screwing shut.

“Daddy,” He whines, back arching and legs spreading wider, “Please...”

James hums, eyes dark and swirling with lust, and he just loves when Lars him by that name. “Please what, sweetheart?” He purrs, his other hand caressing Lars’ thigh and up to his hip.

“Please, want you in me, daddy, please,” Lars whimpers, one hand reaching out to grip james’ firm arm. The older male grins, pleased by the needy, wanton sound of Lars’ voice.

“Patience, sugar,” He drawls, still patiently working Lars open. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

The older male leans down to bite and suck at Lars’ neck, and the younger man mewls at the sensation of James’ rough facial hair scraping against his sensitive skin. His eyes are half-lidded and glazed over, pleasure coursing through his body, and it only escalates as James’ fingers brush against his sweet spot once, twice, three times.

“James,” The Dane gasps needily, “Please, I’m ready, daddy, I—“

“You think you’re ready for me already, darlin’?” James asks with a smug smirk.

He curls his fingers, hitting the spot he knows makes Lars writhe and cry. And, right on cue, the younger male gasps, brow furrowing as his hips buck.

“F-fuck,” Lars cries out, arching and writhing. “No, I-I need you, daddy, please,” He whimpers.

James can’t resist anymore, Lars’ pleading and begging going straight to his already hardened cock. “Yeah, think you’ve been waiting for me long enough,” He mutters, pulling out his fingers and sitting up. He quickly undoes his belt, unfastening it and throwing it off the bed.

Lars watches him, watching James unbutton his pants and pull them down, along with his boxers. Even at sixty, James is a sight, his muscular thighs and broad shoulders still defined, although they’d lost a little bit of their size in recent years. But Lars still thinks he’s the sexiest man to have ever existed on the planet, and he says just that.

“Sexy old bastard, still sexier than all these young hot, skinny guys you see these days,” He mutters, gazing at the older man.

James chuckles, taking the comment as praise. “Damn right I am,” He grins gruffly, now grabbing the bottle of lube and pouring out a good amount onto his hand, coating his leaking cock. “No skinny little brat could give you what I give you, could they, baby?”

“Mm, no, they couldn’t,” Lars mumbles, watching with wide eyes as James coats his length with the lube, pumping it slowly. “Only you, daddy. Only you,” He adds, as if it’s a sin for him to look at another man the way he looks at and worships James.

James hums, pleased, and he moves between the younger man’s spread legs, looming over him. A small shiver of anticipation runs through Lars’ body, and he bites his lip as he watches James line up with his pink, twitching hole, pressing against it.

“You’re always so good for me, sweetheart,” He murmurs, big hands resting on Lars’ lithe hips and large chest hovering over Lars’ smaller frame. “Pretty, perfect sugar baby… I’m the only man you look at, right?”

“Yes, daddy, you’re the only man I look at,” Lars says, his hands gripping James’ forearms. He’s already panting, just from the feel of the tip against his entrance, and he can’t help but whine in anticipation for what’s coming next.

“P-please, Jamie, want it,” He whimpers needily.

“Mmm, I know you do,” James muses with a smug grin. “You’re always so eager for daddy, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

The silver fox can’t resist teasing the little minx by simply rubbing his leaking tip against the younger man’s tight, pink entrance. “Only I get to touch you like this, yeah? Only me.” James purrs.

“No one else but you, just you,” Lars gasps, eyes half-lidded and glazed with desire. He can’t help but squirm a bit, the feeling of the leaking tip against his sensitive hole making him shiver.

James grins, giving Lars one final, long kiss before finally, slowly, pushing into the younger man, and they both let out moans.

“Dammit, you’re tight…” James groans, 

Lars moans lowly as he feels James pushing in, and his hands come up to grip the older man’s forearms. The older man’s size makes his legs tremble as he tries to adjust to the stretch, his breaths coming out in short, shaky gasps.

“James,” he whimpers, and his hands slowly move up to clutch at his shoulders.

“You’re doin’ s’good, sweet boy,” James murmurs, the words almost mumbled into Lars’ neck. His hands move to Lars’ waist, grip firm but not rough, holding the younger man’s hips steady. “Feel so good around me, baby…”

He moves his arms to rest on either side of Lars, his hands now gripping the headboard as he takes in the absolutely gorgeous sight: Lars looking up at him, eyelashes clumped together, lips parted and gasping, cheeks flushed red. Damn, he feels like the luckiest man in the world.

“Mmm…you okay, darlin’?” He asks. Lars nods wordlessly, still getting used to the aching sting of being stretched just how he likes. After a few seconds, the younger man slowly, tentatively, rocks his hips, wordlessly encouraging James to move.

So James does, bottoming out and pulling out until his tip remains, and then repeats that again and again until Lars is begging for him to move faster.

“Fuck,” Lars gasps, his hands now clawing at James’ toned back. “Feels so good, daddy, so good,” He slurs, the slight burn of the stretch slowly morphing into sweet, aching pleasure.

“Yeah? You like that, sweetheart?” James asks, shifting his position slightly and angling his hips in a way he knows makes Lars cry out. His tip prods at Lars’ prostate so decadently, each thrust carefully calculated to bring him the most amount of pleasure.

He watches the reaction that follows—Lars’ body arching, his back curving and arching, and his hands clutching frantically at James’ back, letting out a broken cry and the brunette nods frantically.

“F-fuck,” Lars gasps, his legs wrapping around James’ back and drawing him closer, closer. “There, there, please,” Lars pleads, and James chuckles in response, continuing to aim at the younger man’s sweet spot.

“Right there, huh, little sugar?” James murmurs, continuing his slow, torturous pace, wanting to drive Lars crazy.

“Yes, please, right there!” Lars whimpers, his fingers scrabbling for purchase against James’ back. “I need you, please—!” He’s cut off as James snaps his hips forward again, deliberately fast and hard. 

A high pitched cry comes out of Lars’ pretty, parted lips, his eyes closed and eyelashes fanned out against his flushed cheeks.

James is so big, it’s always a struggle to take him even after they’ve fucked so many times. Lars always feels so damn full when he takes all of him, the stretch is so good to him.

“There you go, baby,” James purrs, watching the younger man coming undone beneath him under his touch. “So pretty for me,” He mutters, leaning down to kiss the pale, soft skin of Lars’ neck. “So goddamn sweet.”

James pushes Lars’ legs up to his chest for a deeper penetration, driving into him with such vigour that he can feel tears spring to his eyes. God, curse this old man and his talents…

Keening, Lars’ nails dig into James’ back, red lines streaking down the aged skin. He sighs blissfully, feeling his climax draw near as James speeds up, and all he can think is damn, for a sixty year old his stamina is crazy. The old man didn’t waver a second, and Lars thinks that this might be the best that James has ever fucked him.

The pressure building deep in his loins reaches its peak, his mind melting as James holds him close, muttering sweet praises. Tears of ecstasy slide down his flush cheeks, holding onto James like he was his lifeline as he comes between the both of them. 

It’s hot and sticky, but it doesn’t deter the older man from chasing his own release once Lars had spent himself. If anything, he was owed it. It was his birthday after all. 

Lars is beginning to get sore, whining like a kicked animal as James brutally pistons into him. A calloused hand caresses his face in gentle reassurance, blue locking with green. James wipes his tears, murmuring reassuring yet incomprehensible words. 

“Doin’ so good for me, sweet boy…so lucky to have you as mine…” 

The silver fox somehow takes forever to come, Lars knows that, but now it feels like the man’s orgasm can’t come soon enough because he’s spilling over his chest again with a choked cry. His dick twitches limply with nothing more to give.

Seeing Lars so blissed and overstimulated, teary and breathless, has James finally coming with a guttural groan, pumping his load deep inside the slick warm walls of Lars’ hole. 

They stay pressed against each other like that for a minute or two before James pulls out, hissing at his sensitive cock. Lars winces when that feeling of emptiness hits him again like there’s a piece of him missing. 

Even though he’s tired and achy and overstimulated, Lars musters up the energy to grin lazily up at his boyfriend. 

“Happy Birthday.”

Me when they’re being mean to Jason

results of the last poll:

since it was a tie there’s gonna be a second poll :)

results of the second poll:

okay thanks I’m gonna go write now

Jason is a bottom no one can tell me otherwise

hii if u don't mind could you maybe do some kirk/dave rough sex/hate sex???? top dave!

𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄/𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊 - 𝐃𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞

warnings: degrading, degradation kink, slight humiliation kink, blow job(s), face-fucking, semi-public sex, Kirk’s a slut (we all knew that)

okay after this setting Dave actually takes Kirk back home I just don’t know how to progress from there but I’m just putting this out because yeah!!

nsfw under the cut :)

From across the bar, Dave glares down Kirk. He knows fully well who the guitarist is—his replacement in Metallica. How dare he waltz right into the band the same day he was kicked onto the streets like a dog? Resentment and bitterness towards him stewed in his heart, hazel eyes staring him down.

Kirk doesn’t seem to notice—he’s too busy laughing and chatting with his bandmates, though there is the small feeling of someone watching him…

Dave's stare is relentless though, studying each movement, each laugh that comes out of Kirk's mouth as if to scrutinize any sign of weakness he may have. It's a fierce gaze, a mixture of envy and anger, directed solely at the unsuspecting guitarist.

Beside him, Junior is a little concerned. He knew it was a bad idea to come to this place, and now Dave was mad and the whole evening would go wasted.

Dave sensed Junior's unease beside him and reluctantly diverted his gaze from Kirk for a moment. He looked at Junior, his expression still hard. "Relax, kid," he muttered, his voice gruff. "Why are you so nervous?”

Although Dave's words are supposed to reassure, they're said without much warmth, still too focused on Kirk across the room. He can still see the guitarist laughing and talking, like an annoying buzzing in his ear that he wished would stop. Frustration simmers within him, and his jaw clenches involuntarily.

Taking a swig of his drink, Dave's gaze once again finds its way back to Kirk, observing him with a mixture of jealousy and disdain. It's as if he cannot help but watch Kirk like a hawk, as if his mere presence is a taunt to his own misfortune.

Kirk walks off to the bathroom, and Dave decides he’ll take his chance. The guitarist turns to Junior, giving him a look that said “I’m going to do something you won’t like”, and Junior takes the hint, immediately moving from the bar to find some chick to spend the night with.

Dave, seizing the opportunity like a pouncing tiger, watches as Junior saunters off. He allows himself a sly smirk, pleased with himself for clearing the path. 

With a steady determination, he peels himself away from the bar and starts making his way across the room towards the bathroom.

Dave's strides are confident as he weaves through the crowd, his eyes fixed on the door to the bathroom. He tries to appear nonchalant, but his heart is pumping with a mix of anticipation and anticipation. 

He's aware that what he's about to do is probably not the wisest choice, but his bitterness towards Kirk is like a wildfire, burning hotter with each step he takes closer to the bathroom.

Dave reaches the door, a look of determination mixed with a hint of mischief in his eyes. He pauses a moment, taking a deep breath, the sound of the music and chatter in the bar just a faded hum in his ears. He grips the handle and pushes the door open, revealing the bathroom beyond.

It’s super empty. To be fair, the bathroom Kirk had gone into was quite secluded, and he never would’ve know it was there if not for Kirk. 

Dave enters the restroom, the sound of the main room now muffled behind the closed door. He looks around, noticing the solitary nature of the bathroom. It's eerily quiet, save for the distant sounds of the bar's main area. It's perfect.

Dave stalks further into the bathroom, his boots softly echoing against the tiled floor. He comes to a stop by a sink right next to Kirk. The guitarist’s brown eyes fly up to see who it was. Kirk gives a small smile, familiarity shining in his eyes.

“Oh, hey, Dave.” 

The fucker remembers his name… 

Dave's expression darkens even further as recognition flashes in Kirk's eyes. A curt nod is given in return, his voice a low, gruff rumble. 

“Kirk.” 

He doesn’t bother with pleasantries, his irritation already brewing underneath the surface. Dave's eyes narrow, studying Kirk, his thoughts swirling with suppressed anger and jealousy.

He moves closer, positioning himself next to the guitarist. Their reflections are seen in the mirror above the sinks, Dave towering over Kirk by a few inches. The close proximity and intimate setting of the bathroom adds a layer of tension in the air.

Meanwhile, Kirk’s heart is hammering in his chest, and he gulps silently, wondering what the hell the ginger would want from him of all people. He barely knew the guy and yet he looked like he had his funeral all planned out.

Dave leans against the sink, his gaze meeting Kirk's in the mirror. He's silent for a long moment, his eyes taking in the guitarist's features, the nervousness in his expression, the gulp, the slight tremble in his hands. Dave can't help but smile wryly. He found it pathetic.

“You look like you've seen a ghost,” Dave says finally, his voice low and mocking. “Relax. I haven't got a baseball bat hidden somewhere.” 

His tone is casual, but the underlying tension is palpable. Dave's eyes never leave Kirk's reflection, his gaze intense and unwavering.

He leans in a little closer, his voice dropping another octave. “I just want to talk...privately.” 

The bathroom's dim lighting casts shadows across Dave's face, making his already fierce features more intense and imposing.

Kirk's heart is now slamming against his ribcage, his nerves on full throttle under Dave's intense gaze. He swallows again, hard. 

“O-okay,” he stutters out, trying to remain calm despite the obvious implication of Dave's request. “What do you want to talk about?” Dave lets out a snort, a mocking smile playing across his lips. He doesn't move away, still standing only a few feet apart. 

“You know, Kirk, I've been watching you,” Dave muses, his voice almost in a purr. “You seem...popular. The golden boy of Metallica.”The bitterness in Dave's tone is clear, his words spitting venom.  

“Everyone seems to love you. Look at you now, getting fawned over by everyone in that room. I bet it feels good, huh?”

He steps closer, invading Kirk's personal space. The guitarist can feel Dave's warmth radiating off him, his scent filling the small area of the bathroom. Dave's eyes burn into Kirk's, his voice dropping even lower. 

“Must be nice...having everything handed to you on a damn silver platter.”

Dave leans in slightly further, his body almost touching Kirk's. He can see the fear in the guitarist's eyes, the way his breaths shallow out, the way his Adam's apple bobs nervously. Dave revels in it, relishing in the power he has over Kirk in this moment.

“Must be nice,” Dave repeats, his voice a mere whisper now. He's close enough that his lips brush Kirk's ear with each word. “That they love you so much. That you get their applause...their admiration...their respect.”

Dave's breath is hot against Kirk's ear, sending shudders down his spine. The ginger's body is so close now, the heat coming off him mixing with the cold air of the bathroom. Dave seems to almost envelope Kirk, his presence overpowering and intimidating.

And Kirk can’t help but find it so arousing, having Dave looming over him. It’s got his blood thrumming, however much scared he was at the moment.

Dave's hand comes up, gripping Kirk's throat in a rough gesture. He uses it to pull Kirk closer, the guitarist pressed up against his body. Dave's chest is nearly touching the back of Kirk's, and he can feel the man's heart pounding through his shirt.

His other hand comes up to rest on Kirk's hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh with almost bruising force. Dave's mouth is hovering millimeters away from the nape of Kirk neck, his voice coming out as a dark, sultry purr.

“You have no idea how much I hate you,” Dave growls lowly, almost right into Kirk’s ear. “How much I have to bite my tongue whenever I see you up on that stage, with that stupid, pretty face of yours. Do you have any idea how much the thought of you makes me seethe inside?”

Dave's grip on Kirk's neck and hip tightens, his body pressed almost flush against the guitarist. His breath is coming fast now, quickened by his own anger and...something else. 

“You look so damn perfect up there,” Dave continues, his voice filled with an underlying hint of lust. “So damn perfect...and I hate you for it.”

Kirk shudders, his jeans feeling a little tighter. He doesn’t resist Dave. To be honest, Dave had been an object of his fantasies for a little while, with those dark devious eyes and that smirk that always had him spilling onto his hand.

Dave noses along the side of Kirk's neck, inhaling his scent. It's driving him crazy, and he can't deny the effect the guitarist is having on him right now. His body is reacting in ways he refuses to admit, the mixture of anger and desire swirling inside him like a storm.

Dave's hands wander now, caressing and gripping Kirk's hips and sides in a possessive way. His mouth continues to explore the side of Kirk's neck, nipping and sucking, leaving little marks on the sensitive flesh.

“I should strangle you right now,” Dave husks, his voice a mix of anger and lust. “I should wrap my hands around your pretty little neck and squeeze until you’re gasping and begging for air.”

The words send a shiver down Kirk's spine, his body responding to the rough touch and harsh words. He swallows hard, his back arching a little without him realizing it, pushing him closer against Dave.

Dave can feel the response in Kirk's body, the subtle arching, the shivers, the quickening breaths. He smiles against Kirk's skin, his own breath coming out hot.

“You'd like that, wouldn’t you?” He growls lowly. “You'd like me to get rough with you...use you like I own you.”

One of Dave's hands moves to the front of Kirk's jeans, palming his growing hardness through the fabric. He smirks at the sharp intake of breath from the guitarist, his own body reacting eagerly to the contact.

“Look at you,” Dave hisses, his hand continuing to palm Kirk's through the denim. “You're so goddamn eager for it, aren't you? You'd let me do anything to you, right now. I bet you'd even get on your knees for me.”

The words make Kirk gasp, his hips canting into Dave’s hand involuntarily. A flush of shame and arousal washes over him, and he can’t help the way his body responds to the ginger. It’s maddening, the way Dave is talking to him, with so much anger and lust in his tone.

Dave's breath comes even harder now, ragged and hot against Kirk's ear. His hand continues to work over the guitarist, his touch rough and possessive. 

“You have no goddamn clue, how badly I want to break you,” he murmurs, practically growling the words out. “How much I want to hear you begging and whining for more.”

Dave's lips are pressed against the side of Kirk's throat, his teeth scraping across the flesh. He can taste the guitarist’s desperation on his tongue, the neediness and vulnerability. Dave feels himself beginning to lose control, the anger and lust mixing together until they are an incoherent wave inside him. 

“Say it,” he commands, his voice a rough, dark whisper. “Say you want me to break you.”

Kirk’s breathing is fast and heavy, his body tensed against Dave. He can feel the heat of the moment coursing through him, the need for it almost overwhelming. Dave’s words, his touch, it’s like a drug that he can’t get enough of. 

“Break me,” he gasps, his voice ragged and pleading. “Please…break me…just please…I’ll do anything.”

Satisfaction and desire flood Dave at the words, a dark, possessive thrill coursing through him. He smirks as he leans in close, his teeth nipping at Kirk’s ear. 

“Anything? Those are dangerous words, y'know.” 

Kirk lets out a quiet whimper, the pain and pleasure mixing into a heady sensation. “I don’t care,” he pants out, his whole body feeling like molten fire. “Just…break me…use me…please…”

Dave’s grip in Kirk’s hair tightens, pulling his head further back. His lips trail down the exposed skin, nipping and sucking, marking the guitarist as his own. 

“Careful what you ask for, sweetness,” he husks, the nickname a mockery as much as it is an endearment. “I might just take you up on that offer.”

Dave's lips have now found Kirk’s collarbone, tasting the skin there with his tongue. He lets his hand fall from Kirk's hair, sliding down his back to grip his ass, pulling him harder against him. 

“If I do,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl, “then there’s no going back. Understand?”

Kirk’s breath comes out in a harsh gasp as Dave’s hand explores his body, his own hands coming up to clutch at the ginger’s shoulders. He nods, his words coming out in a needy, pleading whisper.

“Yes, I understand. I don’t care. Just…” He lets out a guttural moan as Dave’s lips move to a sensitive spot on his neck.

Dave's lips turn up into a sardonic smile against Kirk's neck at the needy sounds coming from the guitarist. His hands grip and squeeze relentlessly, pressing the smaller man against his body. 

“God, you're so desperate it's pathetic,” he muses, his tone a combination of amusement and lust.

Dave’s hands are everywhere now, roaming across Kirk’s body as he presses him up against the wall. He lets his lips explore the sensitive flesh of the guitarist’s neck, biting and sucking at the tender spots. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with want. “You’re so willing, so eager. You’d do anything I asked you to, wouldn’t you?”

Kirk’s mind is a swirling mess of need and shame, the sensations and Dave’s words sending waves of both arousal and humiliation through him. He gasps and whines as Dave’s lips continue their assault on his neck, his body trembling beneath the ginger’s touch. 

“Yes,” he manages out in a hoarse whisper, his voice raw and needy. “Yes…anything…please…”

Dave chuckles a little at Kirk's obvious neediness, his body and reaction fueling the fire in his gut. He pulls back from the guitarist's neck, his eyes raking over Kirk's flushed and panting form. 

“You’re so vulnerable,” he taunts, his voice harsh and mocking. “So willing to let me do whatever I want to you. Are you like this with James and Lars? I bet you are..”

Kirk’s breath hitches at the words, his eyes widening at the mention of James and Lars. A wave of shame and guilt washes over him as he’s reminded of his bandmates, who are blissfully unaware of the things happening behind the bathroom door. 

“No,” he manages to get out, his voice quiet and shaky. “I’m not like this with them…”

Dave laughs, the sound devoid of humor. “Sure you’re not,” he mocks cruelly. “I bet you beg and whine for their attention just as you are for me. You’d let them touch you and kiss you, wouldn’t you?”

Kirk tries to deny it, shaking his head weakly, but he can’t find the energy to do so, the truth sitting heavy in his gut. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t though of such things with his band mates, especially James. 

But he also knew it would never happen, that such feelings were unrequited. So instead he just lets out a small whimper, his eyes dropping to the floor in shame.

Dave notices the change in Kirk’s expression and body language, the way the guitarist avoids his gaze and fidgets weakly. A cruel smile plays on his lips as he leans in closer, trapping Kirk against the wall. 

“Oh,” he teases, his voice dripping with mockery. “That’s right, they’re not exactly interested in a needy guy like you, are they? That’s why you’re so desperate for it, why you’re letting ME have you like this.”

The sting of Dave’s words hit hard, a truth that cuts deep. Kirk can feel his eyes begin to prick with tears, a mixture of shame and hurt swirling inside him. He nods weakly, unable to deny it. 

“Yes…” he whispers, his voice small and defeated. “Yes…I’m desperate…please…you’ll give it to me…right? You’ll give me what they won’t…”

Dave’s smirk turns more smug at the broken look on Kirk’s face, savoring the sight of the guitarist so vulnerable and pathetic. He likes him like this, begging and needy, all for him. 

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a low growl as he murmurs, “That’s right, I'll give you what you want, pretty boy. But you’re gonna have to do something for me first.”

The words send a thrill through Kirk’s body, his mind immediately going to what Dave wants. He nods again, more eager this time than before. 

“Wh-what do you want me to do?” he asks, his voice soft.

Dave's grin widens, his hand coming up to grip Kirk's chin, tilting his head up to look at him. 

“Get on your knees for me,” he commands, his tone gentle but firm. “Show me how desperate you are.”

The demand makes a flush of heat spread through Kirk, his body practically aching to comply. He doesn’t hesitate, slipping out from Dave to kneel on the floor in front of him. He looks up at the ginger, his eyes wide and pleading. 

“Like this?” He asks meekly.

Dave looks down at Kirk, his gaze taking in the sight of the guitarist on his knees before him. A dark thrill goes through him as he looks at the other man, a heady mix of power and lust swirling together. 

“Yes,” he responds, “just like that. You look so pretty down there, on your knees for me. I bet you like being on your knees, huh? Makes you feel like you belong to me, doesn’t it?”

The words go straight to Kirk’s core, making him shiver and whine unconsciously. It’s shameful, how badly he’s craving this, how good being on his knees for Dave makes him feel. 

Dave sees the way Kirk’s entire demeanor shifts, the way he trembles and whines, and it only fuels the dominating fire that was starting to burn inside of him. He moves forward, standing directly in front of the kneeling guitarist, his hand coming up to grip the man’s hair once more. 

“You know what to do.”

The command is clear, and Kirk is helpless to deny or resist it. His hands come up to Dave’s pants, unbuttoning and tugging them down until they pool at the ginger’s ankles, revealing his growing hardness. 

He looks up at Dave, his eyes clouded with a mixture of submission and lust. “Can I…?” He asks, his voice soft and needy, asking Dave’s permission.

Dave lets out a low hum, his fingers tightening in Kirk’s hair at the pleading tone of his voice. The sight of the guitarist at his feet, so obedient and vulnerable, is beyond intoxicating. 

“Go ahead, sweetness,” he purrs, his tone almost taunting. “Take me.”

The permission sends a jolt of excitement and anticipation through Kirk, making him shiver again. He leans forward, his eyes still locked with Dave’s like he can’t look away, and wraps his lips around the tip of the ginger’s throbbing cock.

His eyes never leave Dave’s, watching the ginger’s expressions carefully, taking in every little twitch and gasp. He takes it as a point of pride, how he’s able to affect Dave this way.

Dave lets out a low hiss as he watches Kirk take him in, his eyes dark and focused on the kneeling guitarist. It’s erotic and powerful, to watch as the other man goes to work on him. 

“God damn,” he mutters out, his voice ragged and rough. “You look so good like this, sweetness. On your knees, my big cock in your pretty little mouth. You like it, don’t you?”

A shiver runs through Kirk again, his body and mind overwhelmed with how good this feels. The words, the tone, the dominant way Dave is talking to him, it’s all feeding the fire inside him that only wants more of it. He moans around Dave’s cock, trying to take more of his length down his throat.

Dave hisses again, gripping Kirk’s raven curls tight. The guitarist holds the sides of Dave’s hips. But it feels so good to be gagging and choking on Dave, knowing that his bandmates could walk in and find them. 

The ginger hums smugly as Kirk finally takes him to the hilt, stroking his hair softly now. “I’m surprised you can take all of me—you done this before, little slut?” His cheeks burn in embarrassment, but he groans around Dave’s dick again. 

He isn’t sure whether that’s a denial or confirmation, but either way, Dave’s got Kirk blowing him. 

The ravenette starts to bob his head up and down, his blunt nails digging into the soft skin of Dave’s hips. He noses ginger pubes, the curls nestled neatly over his cock. As Kirk gets more used to the pace, he goes faster, and Dave chokes on a moan, eyes squeezing shut. 

“Shit—”Is all he has to say, fisting Kirk’s hair again. Soon, he’s facefucking him, Kirk’s eyes prickling with tears. God, it burns, but it feels so good..

Tears trickle down the guitarist’s cheeks, drool dribbling down his chin, but it’s worth seeing Dave come undone from his work, hissing and groaning gutturally. 

Kirk is pliant, letting Dave use him as he wishes. Dave takes advantage of that, using him like a fuck toy and chasing his own release. Kirk chokes on him a few times, but Dave doesn’t stop, and he won’t, not until he’s coming down Kirk’s throat.

The sounds they’re making are terribly obscene and loud. The thrill of knowing that anyone could walk in at any second has Kirk groaning around Dave’s cock again. Dave shudders, his release draws near and Kirk knows it. He relishes in it.

The ginger’s balls draw tight, and he shoved Kirk’s head down to his hilt, keeping him there as he finishes down his throat. Kirk takes it all, swallowing it and savouring the taste like it was holy water. 

Kirk pulls off with a wet pop, and Dave runs a hand over his own flushed face. Even as his dick hangs limp now, Jesus, he’s big. And if he’ll let him, Kirk would gladly bend over for Dave. 

“You’re a vacuum.” Dave mutters, tucking himself back into his jeans. Kirk grins and sticks his tongue out, letting Dave see his spend on his tongue. “Christ, you’re a little fucking whore, aren’t you?” He laughs breathlessly, helping Kirk up, who also chuckles.

“Take me back to your place.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

watching a year and a half

It’s not a want. It’s a NEED

Shitposting because I don’t have a life

could you do something like listing all the kinks the Metallica guys have 👀

𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆: James loves wrapping his large, coarse hands around his partner’s neck. It’s a lovelier sight than any silver or gold chain, priceless too. And he loves pressing down on carotids til his partner is breathless. Having dominance over his partner gets him going like crazy.

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆: James loveloveloves marking, be it his partner leaving lasting red scratches on his back, or him leaving bites and hickeys all over his partner’s skin. He loves waking up the next day to see his or their handiwork, and it fills him with deep satisfaction.

𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆: It’s so incredibly arousing to hear his partner choke on sobs of pleasure, tears wetting cheeks from how good James is in bed. Even better if they’re from overstimulation, his partner trembling like a leaf under him.

𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃

𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍: Jason’s a submissive character at heart, however confident he may seem. He’s easy to pleasure, truth be told. There’s nothing better to him than being fucked six ways from Sunday with his face pressed into the sheets by his partner, bordering on his next orgasm.

𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑-𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆: He’s got lovely auburn curls, and they were made to be pulled. The sharp sensations of having his hair pulled always makes his climaxes so much more intense, especially when his partner is dirty-talking him. Now that makes him come so hard his vision blacks out.

𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄: A slut for praise, Jason easily gets off to his partner telling him how amazing he is, and not just in bed. He can get hard from a simple compliment, and it’s almost embarrassing if not useful in the sheets.

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐓

𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑: The game of cat and mouse, hunter and prey, always has his blood running hot and his heart thrumming. It’s chasing down his partner like a predator, actively seeking them out, that has him turned on. Especially when his partner is cornered with nowhere else to run.

𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆: He has an affinity with horror movies, and really, it gets him off to play a vampire, capturing his partner and whisking them away to his bedroom. Or, he’d also play a serial killer stalking around for his next kill, and his partner would play the lovely victim.

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃: Any chance he gets, he’s biting and gnawing at his partner’s throat, imagining he’s one himself, sometimes hard enough to draw blood. The coppery liquid does things to him, the taste and the visuals of droplets streaking downwards. Rest assured, he licks it all better afterwards.

𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐅 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍

𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐗𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Cliff loves going down on his partner, be it eating their pussy out like there’s no tomorrow, or rimming them until they ask for more. Any orifices down there is to be savoured and devoured.

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐗: He’s known for his love of weed, and truly, you can’t get better than high sex. Weed amplifies the pleasure between him and his partner, and the lusty haze has him addicted. Most sex with him is likely mixed in with marijuana.

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐒𝐌: A tender person, Cliff is so gentle and caring during sex. He’s always making sure his partner is okay, their pleasure is first priority. Aftercare with him is always a must, no questions, and he’ll even steal the moon if his partner asked it.

𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐔𝐋𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄: Lars is a little bit of a control freak (who am I kidding, he’s THE control freak). Thus, when his partner acts out of line, they’re soon over his lap, tears in their eyes as he gives harsh spanks on their bare ass. The best part is seeing how red and raw those round globes are afterwards.

𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆: Being controlling is Lars’ forte, so don’t be surprised that he enjoys edging. Not so much on himself, but on his partner? He’s teasing them till the sun comes up if he has the opportunity. Granting an orgasm after hours of edging is the greatest feeling in his opinion.

𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐊 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒: Lars is surprisingly a switch. Yes, I know, shocking. When he’s feeling a little subby, he’ll get on his knees and do anything he’s asked. His favourite is when his partner tells him how to masturbate, because sometimes he needs someone other than James to tell him what to do. Do this, do that, “Yes sir/ma’am!” is all he’ll say, with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas.

FEMTALLICA

theres no way they havent fucked dude

The waitress story😂

Jason's movements...😭😂😭😂

Everyone: “Cliff please save us!”

Cliff: “Fear not, for I shall indeed deliver you from this turmoil. By embracing the agrarian way of life, you will find solace and purpose. Through the act of farming, you will connect with the earth, attuning yourselves to the natural cycles of growth and renewal. This harmonious existence will bring you peace and fulfillment, allowing you to adapt and thrive in ways you have yet to imagine. Name all the animals after me!”

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒/𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 - 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄

warnings: Lars and Kirk playing matchmaker (kind of?), James being an a confusing asshole, Jason being helplessly charmed by James, Fluff

inspired by @magnetadraww’s art of Jason & James!! Defo gonna make a part 2 to this!

fluff under the cut :)

Over his time in Metallica, Jason found that spending nights hanging around his bandmates leaned into two different paths—they’d get shitfaced and pass out, or they’d play a stupid game that always involved one of them getting terribly embarrassed.

Tonight, it was clear it was going to end with someone getting humiliated. Hopefully it’s not him again…

With his arms crossed and his legs spread out, Jason sat on the hotel floor with his back against the sofa, watching Lars spin an empty bottle on the carpet in front of him. All three of his bandmates were seated on the sofa, watching with interest as the bottle clattered against the carpet, spinning in sharp, quick intervals before slowing down.

Watching with mild interest, he pops a blueberry in his mouth from the fruitbowl their hotel had so graciously provided. Blue eyes lock onto the neck of the bottle, watching it go round and round.

Eventually, the bottle slithers to a slow stop, and the neck of it points directly at Jason. Lars snickers lowly under his breath and Kirk looks like a child about to receive a birthday present, practically bursting with curiosity and excitement.

He huffs a groan, knowing he’ll have to pick between the lesser evil in Truth of Dare. It’s like they’re 13 year old girls at a sleepover. What’re they gonna do next? Chat about which teenage mutant ninja turtle deserves a death penalty?

“What’ll it be, Jase?” Kirk asks, barely able to keep the amusement out of his tone.

Lars nudges his arm against Jason’s shoulder, looking at him with an excited expression.

“C’mon, we all know you’ll choose truth. It’s not like you have the balls for a dare.”Lars knew exactly how to irk Jason—and to prove Lars wrong, he picked dare.

“Dare.” His voice holds a challenge—whatever they give him couldn’t be too bad. They had boundaries set for this: no nudity, public humiliation and dangerous dares.

Lars grins; it’s exactly what he wants, for Jason’s pride to make him pick dare.

Kirk, who had been sitting on the left, glances at Lars with an amused look on his face. It was obvious by their reactions that they were hoping he would pick dare.

“Alright then… I got a good one for you.” Lars grins mischievously, licking at his bottom lip.

Leaning forward, Lars sits up and looks down at Jason, who’s eyes are narrowed with suspicion.

“So, my dare… Is for you to eat a strawberry.”

Jason’s taken aback at how simple the dare is. There must be a twist…

“…Just eating a strawberry?” He says in a bewildered tone. Lars smirks—he’s clearly loving this.

“Yup! Just eating a strawberry.”

Kirk sits back against the sofa, his face displaying a look of feigned confusion.

“What’s wrong, Jason? Scared?”

“No, just..confused.” He mutters, reaching into the fruit bowl for a perfectly red strawberry. He thinks everything’s going maybe okay, until Lars drops the bomb on him. The second half of the dare.

Once Jason’s settled with the strawberry in his fingers, Lars grins and adds, “Oh—almost forgot to mention the one little catch…”

“You have to eat it with James.”

Kirk nods in agreement, like this was all planned out, and it probably was.

“You both have to eat half of the strawberry, with the strawberry right between you guys. Should be simple right?”

Jason swallows back a groan—they were always trying to push him and James together. It’s not that he hated James, no, not at all. But the guy kind of intimidated him, and the feeling he got when he was around the frontman was strange and a little uncomfortable.

He looks up at his two bandmates, both of which were waiting for his answer and he knew he didn’t have much of a choice. If he refuses, he’ll be labeled a pussy. 

“Why’re you dragging me into this?” James laments, frowning. James made it very clear he didn’t like the idea one bit—typical James behaviour.

Lars rolls his eyes, and Kirk grins mischievously.

“Oh c’mon, it’s a damn strawberry. It’ll be over in ten seconds.”

“Yeah, we’re not asking you to make out.” Kirk chirps, knowing that would get a rise out of James. It worked, and James threw him an annoyed look.

Jason watched the back and forth like a tennis match, and he could see the wheels turning in James’s head. Jason’s sure the guy’s gonna refuse, like he always does, until James suddenly speaks. 

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

Jason’s eyes widen and he can’t help but wonder why James had changed his mind. He watches as James sits up against the sofa, and he realizes it’s probably because he doesn’t want to appear like he’s scared to do a silly dare.

“Atta’ boy, James!” Lars exclaims happily, patting James’s shoulder. Kirk grins, and Jason’s certain he’s secretly enjoying the two of them being forced together.

Feeling his cheeks heat up, Jason’s face begins to flush red. He can’t believe James actually agreed, and he can already feel his heartbeat increase. This would be a long night.

Jason hoists himself off the ground, settling next to James on the couch. This is so embarrassing, even with just the four of them in the room. He doesn’t know where to start—where to even place the strawberry, how this would work. 

It seems like James has other plans, because he’s soooo confident, taking the berry out of Jason’s hand. So he was going to take the lead? Okay, he could work with that…

Jason could sense James’s confidence, and it only made him more flustered. He could see Lars and Kirk smiling at them both, their heads leaning forward like they’re watching a movie. 

Jason’s heart hammered in his chest when James’s fingers brushed against his. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself down, but it didn’t work. James was so close to him, and he swore he could feel the heat from his body.

James smirks smugly, and Jason’s just glad to find that the guy isn’t giving him any issues yet.

“You don’t need to look so nervous, Jase. It’ll be over before you know it. “

He shifts in his spot, moving a little closer to Jason and holding the strawberry in front of both of their faces.

Jason could hardly respond—he was too focused on trying not to have a heart attack. James being close to him like this was overwhelming, and it was only going to get worse. The fact that Lars and Kirk were eagerly watching them didn’t help either. He felt so awkward, but he knew there was no backing out of this now.

“Open wide…” 

Jason’s eyes widen in shock as James commands, and he could feel a shiver run down his spine. How was he supposed to handle this? He swallowed back a gulp, but slowly did as the guy told him to and opened his mouth.

The heat in his cheeks deepened, and this was humiliating. This dare was a terrible, terrible idea. But he would get through it. James brings the strawberry closer to his mouth, and Jason’s mind is running a million miles a minute. 

He almost squeaks when James’s thumb makes contact with his bottom lip, pulling it down slightly to allow the berry to enter his mouth. His hand then moves to hold his nape—the gesture is waaaay to intimate, and Jason notices the tiniest sound of surprise from Lars.

The strawberry is placed between their mouths, and Jason’s struggling to breathe. This was so wrong—there was no reason James needed to hold him like this. He could feel the guy’s fingers press firmly against the sensitive skin of his neck, and he’s positive James could probably feel how hot his skin is. 

Jason tries to maintain a calm demeanor, but he’s positive he’s a flushed mess right now, but he has to keep his cool. He can’t look like an idiot in front of James or his other two bandmates.

James smirks, and Jason’s sure it’s because the guy knows exactly what this is doing to him. The fingers against his nape feel like they’re burning through his skin, and the urge to press against James’s touch is almost too much to bear. 

He can still feel Kirk and Lars’s eyes on him. They’re probably enjoying this like two damn kids watching an interesting tv show.

Jason’s starting to regret ever agreeing to this stupid game—how could this dare be so intimate? They’re just supposed to eat a strawberry for god’s sake, but of course James had to make it so difficult. 

Jason’s eyes flicker up to James’s, and the smirk on the frontman’s face confirms that he’s enjoying this. It’s like he was trying to get a reaction out of him on purpose.

The strawberry is somehow incredibly juicy, and when James and Jason bite down on it simultaneously, the juice somehow all drips down Jason’s chin. James looks untouched, but Jason has to cup a hand to prevent the sweet juices from dirtying his clothes. James seems to be amused by that—though there’s a glint of emotion in his eye Jason can’t quite pinpoint.

Jason’s absolutely embarrassed, and he’s certain he’s the color of a tomato at this point, but James seems to be enjoying his suffering. He can’t believe he’s managed to make a mess eating a damn strawberry, but here he is. 

He’s too focused on trying to hide his shame to notice the way James’s gaze travels down to his lips, watching the trickle of juice slide down his chin.

He tries to discreetly wipe his chin, but he can’t help but feel James’s eyes on him. The guy’s looking at the drop of juice on his chin like he desperately wants to taste it. The thought sends a shudder running down his spine, and the only thing Jason wants right now is to get this experience over with. 

He glances up to get a look at their bandmates—Kirk’s snickering lowly, and Lars is completely shocked—but their reactions are the least of his worries right now.

“Okay, there. Happy?” He bristled, not very happy with either of the pair. This was their fault. They had planned this stupid dare.

“Yeah.” James leans back against the couch, and a wicked smirk graces his face. 

Kirk and Lars can’t help but snicker, their eyes flickering to examine the two bandmates. Kirk speaks up first, barely able to hide his amusement.

“That was… certainly something.” He chuckles lowly, and Lars grins widely, clearly enjoying himself too much.

By the end of the night, Jason knows that deep down, he’s the one that’s lost the game that time. Again. 

Throughout the rest of the night, Lars and Kirk continued to poke fun at him and James, but Jason couldn’t focus at all. He was far too distracted by the fact that James had been acting strange towards him. 

He kept catching glimpses of the guy looking at him, the look on his face almost…wanting. Whatever that was supposed to mean…

That evening, Jason’s mind would often wander back to their little ‘dare’. The feeling of James’s fingers against his neck and the heat from the guy’s body was forever burned into his mind, and that stupid little smirk that had been on his face…

It was almost hard to believe that this was the same guy that used to snap at him for the dumbest, tiniest things.

It was driving him crazy. He couldn’t think straight. His heart’s racing, and he’s positive all his thoughts and feelings were written all over his face.

The only way he was going to get rid of this uneasy feeling was to go lay down, but he knew he’d just lay there and replay the entire night in his head. He knew sleep wouldn’t find him tonight.

In fact, something or rather someone, found him instead…

Jason was in his hotel room, flopped on one of the beds as he stared up at the ceiling, trying to forget about the nights events. He could still feel the heat of James’s body and the touch of his fingers against his nape, like the sensations had left a permanent mark against his skin. 

He heard a knock against the door, and he groaned, assuming it was either Kirk or Lars ready to bug him some more.

He heaves himself up off the bed with a sigh, and he walks over to the door. He opens it, expecting to see Kirk or Lars standing in the doorway, but to his surprise, it’s…James.

The frontman stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, and he’s watching Jason with a calm expression. Jason’s completely shocked to see him here, and his first thought is that the guy’s here to continue making fun of him.

All he can manage out is a small “Hey.” It’s pathetic, but he doesn’t know what else to say, especially after that stupid dare. His heart beats against his chest like thunder, and he’s sure James could hear it from the way he smirks like something about his embarrassment is so funny.

James’s smirk deepens, and he pushes off from the doorframe to enter the hotel room, forcing Jason to side-step so he can get past. He closes the door behind him with a silent click, and the room instantly falls into silence.

Jason’s heart is racing, but he doesn’t know why. What was the guy even doing here?

James turns to Jason again, and it takes everything in him to not shiver under the guys intense gaze. He’s used to having to deal with James’s intimidating stares, but it feels different for some reason. It’s almost like he’s not used to having those sharp, dark eyes focused directly on him.

“You look nervous.” James remarks, his voice deep and low.

Jason clenches his jaw at the remark, and he swallows down the lump in his throat. He is nervous, but he doesn’t know why and he isn’t about to admit it to the guy either. 

“What do you want?” Jason’s voice is steady, but he can’t help but feel the slightest bit flustered with James standing so close to him.

James raises his eyebrows, like he’s amused by Jason’s attempt at acting like he’s not ruffled. That smirk is still on his face.

“What? Can’t I just come see you?” He steps forward, now mere inches away from the other man.

Jason’s heart begins to thump even faster, and he can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. He’s been alone with James plenty of times before, but this was different. 

He didn’t know exactly what it was, but James’s expression and the way he was looking at him was making him anxious. It was like he could read right through him.

He crosses his arms over his chest, hoping to hide some of his nerves.

“You never just ‘come visit me,’ so spit it out.”

James keeps his calm demeanor, taking another step forward and effectively backing Jason up against the wall. Jason’s throat gets tight as he feels the cold surface of the wall behind him.

James places both his hands on either side of Jason, and he’s practically towering over him now. A small shiver racks through Jason’s body, and James can definitely see it now.

“Can’t a friend check up on his bandmate?”

James’s smirk morphs into a half grin, and he takes another step forward, closing the already small space between them. Jason’s heart is beating quicker than a damn machine gun now, and his whole face feels warm.

Jason doesn’t even know what to say. The front man was way too close to him—he could feel the heat of James’s body and the sound of his breathing. He clenches his jaw, and he desperately wills himself to hide any hint of how flustered he is.

“Is that what you do? Just corner your band mates and crowd them into a wall?”

“Only you.” 

James’s voice is a low, almost sultry tone, and Jason’s sure his heart just skipped a beat. He tries to come up with some sort of response, but the words get stuck in his throat.

He’s absolutely flustered now, and James has to know that he’s got him trapped against the wall like a fly.

James takes a moment to look Jason over, and the small shiver that wracks through the man’s body doesn’t go unnoticed by him. He moves in even closer, until there’s only an inch between them. Jason’s breathing increases, and a red flush slowly creeps across his cheeks.

“You look pretty like this.” James murmurs, his gaze wandering over Jason’s face.

The words catch Jason off guard, and he’s sure the flush on his cheeks deepens. This shouldn’t be having this much of an effect on him, but it was. 

James’s voice is so low, but his demeanor is still so calm, like he’s unaffected by having Jason this close to him. Jason swallows dryly, desperately trying to collect his thoughts.

“P-pretty?” He whispers, his voice cracking slightly.

James lifts a hand, and Jason’s breath hitches in his throat as the guy slowly moves his hand up to his face. He watches with wide eyes as James’s fingers gently caress his jawline, and a small gasp escapes his mouth.

The feeling of the other man’s touch sends shivers through his body, and the smirk on James’s face is so smug and irritating and…attractive.

James brushes a thumb over Jason’s bottom lip, and his smirk deepens when he feels the other man’s body shudder. The way Jason’s breathing was increasing and how his face had gone red was too good to ignore. 

He leans in impossibly close, his voice a low whisper right beside Jason’s ear. 

“So cute…”

Jason’s whole body goes tense at the feel of James’s breath against his ear, and he’s positive the guy can hear the rate of his heart thumping wildly inside his chest. 

He doesn’t know what to do—he can’t think straight with James so close to him like this. James’s hand is still caressing his face, and he can feel himself slowly start to come undone under the other man’s touch.

“I can hear your breathing, y’know.” James mutters lowly, his thumb now caressing the sensitive skin beneath his chin. He tilts Jason’s head up, calloused fingers gliding against his skin like silk. 

Jason almost whimpers, but he quickly bites his bottom lip to stop any sound from coming out. The front man’s touch seemed like it was burning his skin, and it was so damn irritating how calm he still looked.

Jason swallows back a small gasp as James’s thumb still caresses the sensitive skin of his chin, and he can’t believe he was letting the guy do this. But he couldn’t find it in himself to stop him or push him away. 

“You’re shaking.” James murmurs, and Jason’s breath hitches in his throat. The man was right—he was shaking like a damn leaf.

His body trembles slightly as James’s hand cups his jaw, and Jason curses under his breath. The guy’s touch was too warm, just like when he held him during the dare.

James runs the soft pad of his thumb against Jason’s cheek in a slow, gentle motion, and a small whimper escapes his mouth. The sound is pathetic and embarrassing, and he’s sure James is definitely laughing internally at how affected he is.

James leans in closer, and Jason can’t help but wonder is this is how all the girls feel like when James seduces them. Heart rate spiking, cheeks all flush and rosy, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

The blonde likes this—it’s different from all the groupies and girls he’s used to charming. It’s a good kind of different, one that he wants to draw out. He wants to make Jason want him more than does already; to chase him down and prove his worthiness for James’ true affections.

This is just a test run to see if Jason could get wrapped around his finger from a minuscule interaction.

James closes the small, almost microscopic space between them even more, and a small shudder wrecks through Jason’s body as he feels the other man’s breath against his skin. His heart is beating even faster, if that’s possible, and the look on his face feels so utterly pathetic. 

James’s own heart is racing, but he does a good job of keeping a stoic expression. Seeing Jason all flustered like this is doing things to him, but he doesn’t want the man to know it. 

Not yet, at least.

He moves his hand down to Jason’s neck, and the man’s breath hitches. James’s fingers brush against Jason’s pulse point, and he can feel how the man’s heart is pounding frantically. 

Jason is desperately trying to keep himself composed, but he’s failing miserably. James smirks again, now sure that Jason’s fallen into his love trap.

“You’re so damn shaky, hm?” James practically purrs, his voice deep and low in a tone that would make anyone shiver. He runs small circles against Jason’s skin, and the other man has to restrain himself from leaning into the touch. God, this man was such a jerk.

The guitarist leans in close to his bassist, their lips a hair’s length away from each other just as it was a while ago. Devious blue eyes dart to Jason’s peachy lips, a hunger clear in them. 

Jason’s flustered expression is like an invitation—one that he’s so eager to accept, and yet, he wills himself not to.

James can’t help but admire how Jason looks like this, vulnerable and so desperate. It’s so much more enticing than any of the women he’s been with. 

His eyes dart to the other man’s lips again, and he can practically see how they would be plump and soft against his own. Would making out with him be gentle and soft, tender like long-lost lovers? Or would it be passionate and rough like they were crazed animals in a rut? He almost shudders at the thought of kissing Jason.

But no, that would ruin the fun. He wanted to drag this out and tease the poor defenceless man until he came running to him begging for more.

James cruelly pulls away, patting Jason on the cheek gently like he was a kid. He flashes the auburnette his signature grin.

“I’ll see you around, Jase.” 

Jason wants to snap his neck. How dare he, after all the tension, the buildup? Just leaving him like that, sauntering out the door? The audacity! But what had Jason truly expected? To receive a kiss, or more?

Left alone with his stupidly filthy thoughts and the lingering touch of his frontman, Jason sinks down to the ground, head in his hands. 

Fuck, he cursed internally. He knew he was in the deep end. 

With the closing of the door, James’s smile falters. Damn it all, seeing Jason so flustered like that had him on the edge of losing all his patience. 

He desperately wants to go back to the room and pin the man against the wall, make him moan under his fingers. God, the way he had trembled when he touched his face had set his veins on fire. But no, he had to remain strong. He can’t make any moves too early…

…Not when the game had just begun.

telling my kids kurt cobain was jesus christ

lars & james having a erotic fight ;3

this took forever i am so so so sorry! i also can’t write fighting. Like at all. i really suck at it. it’s also pretty short. sorry!!

Between Lust and Anger

1988

CW - spit kink, fighting, choking, frotting (i think it counts), blue balling, nipple play

Heineken was the basis of about half of Metallica’s interactions. 

It started with a beer spill. Plain and simple. A can of alcohol had slipped from the sweaty grip of Lars’ palm, painting James’ shoes, pants, and guitar cable. 

That’s all it took. In the Dane’s eyes, it wasn’t a big deal. There was the time where James had thrown up on Lars’ sneakers. And the time where James threw a glass bottle at Lars’ head. Both significantly worse than a little beer coating some shoes and a cable. But Lars knew better to bring up the past— he was already in for another annoying ramble of accented swears and nasty insults. 

“You asshole!”

Lars frowns, eyebrows furrowing. He almost argues that losing his beer is a lot more upsetting than getting it on James, but he swallows that thought down. James  angrily kicks the cable to the side, its light weight allowing it to skid across the hardwood floor with ease. The puddle of beer beneath him ripples from the sudden movement. 

“I didn’t fuckin’ mean to! It’s not my fault, dickhead! Don’t get so pissy, it’s just some beer..” Lars snarls, getting defensive. 

“Pissy? Fuck you! You are such a goddamn brat!” 

James nearly screams, throwing his hands in the air. It wasn’t unlikely for James to get upset over small things. Ever since Cliff left them, everything was a big deal. Especially when it came to Lars. The guitarist wasn’t good with feelings; his feelings either erupted like a volcano or stayed locked inside his heart, never to be shown. So when James realized he’s got some odd feelings towards Lars, something he can’t put his finger on, he responded by either feigning anger or showing him his real anger amplified like no one’s business. Real annoying to Lars. The shorter boy scoffs and crosses his arms. 

“Brat, huh? What makes me such a brat? You’re the one who can’t handle a little bit of beer on you. Get over it.” The drummer snaps back.

“Fucking- everything! You piss me off, go to hell!” 

A great example of James being more than dramatic. The boys usually found something else to blame it on. Beer, Cliff, a bad show, his mother.. It got to a point. Lars wonders if he gave James too much credit. If, maybe, he’s just like that. That it’s perhaps just in his nature to be.. well, an asshole. Because there’s no other way to put it. Lars was an asshole too, sure. He had a short fuse— but at least he had a fuse! James would simply explode when met with any kind of conflict. Something that Lars was drawn to, despite how frustrating it may be. And frustrated he was. The blonde seemed incapable of shutting his big mouth, hurling insults at Lars, and who was Lars to just sit there and take it? 

“I piss you off? How do you think I feel?! You get so worked up over nothing, I almost feel bad for you! Don’t you get it, James? You’re the bitch! You’re the asshole!”

James stares at him with a piercing, blue gaze. They aren’t so inviting and soft when the blonde is angry. Instead, a furious look burns into Lars when he meets eyes with James, and he can’t tell if that makes him more mad or more scared. He doesn’t get time to make up his mind. In a split second, James is reaching for the collar of Lars’ shirt to pull him closer. The situation had escalated in mere seconds. The shorter boy’s head spun with shock as  James lifted him several inches off the cold wooden floor and stared into those big, green eyes. 

“Call me a bitch again.”

Lars pauses. Stares into that icy cold gaze  for a few moments. His immediate thought is to tell James to let him go; but thinking it through, Lars doesn’t say that. His mind takes a few steps back. He really should just give in, call James a bitch. James deserved it, truly. Everyone else had to deal with Cliff’s passing and their own shit. You didn’t see him, Kirk, or Jason exploding at every minor inconvenience. He had to get his shit together eventually. 

But something about that piercing glare made Lars’ stomach turn with not only fear, but a warm tingle familiar to him. Like when a girl pressed against him and teased him, or when a groupie lowered her voice to ask Lars to fuck her. It’s something about those eyes. Or maybe the way James easily sweeps him off the ground like he weighs just a few pounds. Impressive, considering James is already tipsy. Lars opens his mouth to speak. James wants to play nasty? He can do that. He wants that.

“Bitch.”

With an angry yell, Lars is thrown to the ground with force. The back of the brunette’s head hits the hardwood floor with a loud thud and a yelp of pain almost as loud. He lays on the floor, discombobulated from the sharp hit to the head, and looks at the fuming James above him whose chest is rising up and down in a heavy, steady beat. Now isn’t the time to be having a masochist awakening from being treated like a damn doll— but Lars can’t seem to help it. The brunette’s heart races, still groaning from the pain. Lars tastes a metallic tang in his mouth and realizes he’s also bit his tongue from the fall. It’s still in tact. Thankfully. He huffs and spits the blood at James, who scoffs at him right back. The guitarist wipes the bloody spit off with the back of his palm. 

“Just.. just gonna stand there? Not gonna beat me up anymore, big guy?”

“Says you. You’re the one lying on the floor. All bark, no bite.” 

James might be right. He is right, actually. Lars is just trying to egg James on, knowing he’s no better than the blonde is. The drummers got to do something. To show he can fight back. That thought excites him a little; seeing James even more pissed from Lars pushing back. James was always hot. But angry James was a different kind of hot. And, if Lars really needed to live up to his brat title to see that, so be it. James deserved this anyways. With that final thought, Lars slips his foot behind the guitarist’s leg and sweeps from behind, tripping James and sending him forward. 

James yells with surprise and falls, stopping when he’s hovering above the boy. His knees and hands stop him from completely pressing against Lars— instead, he stares down at the drummer with an unreadable expression and gathers up a chunk of spit in his mouth to spew at Lars in hopes of distressing him. Because James is petty. Really goddamn petty. And, his arms and legs are busy holding him up, so the fastest way to piss Lars off is to spit in his face. Make him grimace and wriggle around in disgust. 

James breathes in. Spit comes flying out. It’s cold. Initial disgust from Lars turns into even deeper arousal, and he feels his cheeks flush. And when James’ quickly switches his balance so his free hand that doesn’t need to support him comes to wrap around his neck with force, they flush even more. His gasp for air makes him inhale the sticky saliva resting above his lip, and James can’t help but feel a part of him melt when he sees it. 

The guitarist shifts yet again, sure to keep his unforgiving grip on the smaller boy’s neck tight as ever. Their position now is even more suggestive. James is sitting up now, knees spread, Lars between them. Their clothed cocks are dangerously close to each other. One arm is reached down to the drummer’s neck to asphyxiate him with his hand, while the other rests beside him. Here Lars is— face red, covered in spit, gasping for air, looking at him with tears in his eyes. James groans softly. His cock twitches to life in his pants. 

Lars should be too busy gasping for air and attempting to get James off of him. He should be afraid, disgusted. He can’t help that he’s a little, well, really turned on. When you have James fucking Hetfield above you degrading you like you’re his bitch, it’s hard not to pop a boner. This leaves two of them with hard-ons. 

“You.. you’re pathetic.. pathetic whore.” James croaks out. His voice is hoarse from being tipsy, angry, and horny. 

Lars only whines in response. It doesn’t help James’ boner.

It’s a little jarring how fast James can go from anger to lust. Maybe it’s because the two are so intertwined in his mind. Anger is lust, and lust is anger. Different feelings to most, very different, but nearly interchangeable to the guitarist. He almost forgets he’s choking the drummer to hell and decides to let his iron grip smooth for a moment. Lars gasps for air, his own lust and anger intertwining fingers, and bucks his hips against James. It’s the first time they’ve felt such an electric shock from just a simple touch. Both feel something inside them snap, and James is quick to act on it. 

“You really are a fucking slut, huh? Bucking your hips against mine. You liked being choked. You liked being spit on. You’re getting off on this.” James teases. He doesn’t bring attention to the fact that he too, is getting off on this. 

Lars only weakly nods, opting to respond with no words yet again. Like he’s afraid that if he says something, he’ll break James out of the trance and he’ll realize how wrong this is and stop. The brunette would rather do anything but stop. So he rubs against James again, harder this time, and relishes in the sweet sound of his groan. It doesn’t take long for Lars to keep doing this, creating a broken rhythm of hips thrusts and jerks against the blonde’s cock. 

Lars had been inside a lot of women. They felt good, really good, usually. But nothing compares to the intense friction of jeans to jeans, cock to cock. It’s so good. And so wrong. James is his best friend, and best friends don’t dry hump each other. On the floor. After a fight. Especially not when your best friend is your bandmate. But it made everything so much better, knowing it’s wrong. Because the drummer could feel his cock pulsate with need as the two rub dicks, searching for pleasure when James’ whole world seemed to be pain. 

Huffing, Lars looks at James’ face. His face is contorted into a concentrated look. Sweat beads on his forehead as his hips roll in tandem with the smaller boy beneath him. Lars can’t tell if the blonde’s mind is going blank or if it’s spinning with a million thoughts. Either looks plausible; but it’s hard to focus on when his cock is dragging against his own with delicious precision. Wanton moans seep from both of their mouths. Just like the pre cum staining both of their boxers. 

James thinks, in the back of his mind, that he’s never seen Lars look so perfect before. Sure, it’s a similar look when he’s done playing a grueling show. Sweat covers his body. He’s got pink cheeks. Breathing heavily. It’s not the same when James is the reason behind this. The larger male on top snaps his hips particularly rough, hoping to hear a whine from Lars, and god does he deliver. It’s intoxicating. Makes James realize what he’s been missing out on. He needs more, more more more, so his hand sneaks up the brunette’s shirt to flick his pink nipple. 

A stifled moan and a sob is what he gets in response. It’s amusing; Lars reacts like a girl when his nipples are played with. Without missing a beat, James continues to toy with that pretty bud until Lars finally speaks up to babble nearly incoherently. 

“J-James.. fuck, fuck, close already, please….!”

James sighs in pleasure. 

“What makes you think I should make you cum, huh? I could just leave you here yknow-“

Lars sobs at that response, a loud cry emitting from his abused throat. 

“Please! Please don’t, I’m sorry, please, just make me cum!”

James grunts and speeds up his rutting. The two claw at the floor for dear life from the harsh pace. Surprisingly, he finishes before Lars, his orgasm hitting him like a truck. He stops his hips completely, letting himself cum in his jeans as he moans loudly. His erection throbs as white spurts coat his boxers and jeans, and Lars swears he could drool from the sight. It takes a bit, but James comes down from his orgasm and sits up. He assumes it’s his turn now. That James will show mercy and use his hand to finish him off. To make it even. 

He was stupid for thinking that. 

On wobbly legs, James stands up, and Lars looks confused. His erection still throbs in his pants. He was so close to release— wasn’t James gonna help him? Leaving him like this was cruel. There was no way James would just leave like that. He’s an asshole, Lars knows this, but when the dane was so close to finishing, how could he just leave like that? Lars watched as James walks out, leaving him on the floor in utter disbelief. 

“…Come back, you asshole!”

Hiiiii thank u for supporting my works! Could you do something with werewolf james and human jason? I’m thinking james bottoms and his claws scratch up jason’s back during sex.. so james, like the puppy he is, pleads with jason to lick the scratches better

𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍/𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 - 𝐓𝐢𝐥 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

warnings: mild blood, blood kink, scratching kink, wound licking, anal sex, rough sex, Jason’s too nice for his own good

okay wait you cooked with this req hold on

nsfw under the cut :)

Jason’s heavy breath ghosts against James’ sweaty neck, calloused hands gripping the blonde’s hips in a vice grip. Soft moans escape his lips, eyes screwed shut in concentration as he rams into James with reckless abandon, the younger man under him gutturally groaning.

Long legs wrap around his hips, bringing Jason ever closer to James, who has a hand tangled in the curly mess of Jason’s auburn hair.

Jason’s going easy on him—he’s always too tender and gentle when they have intimacy. Sometimes James has to remind the human that he’s not made of glass, that he wants him to push his limits.

With Jason’s soft touches, his gentle caresses and his tender nature it makes James’s mind fuzzy. He appreciates the tenderness Jason gives to him but sometimes it just is too much, James has to remind Jason that he won’t break, that he likes it rough at times. 

“Harder,” James growls, his claws dragging up Jason’s back gently, as if egging him on.

“Please, c’mon,” James groans, arching his back, the sheets beneath him ruffled and crumpled, a mess from previous events. James feels Jason press a delicate kiss to his shoulder, and while he usually melts under his touch, right now he needs it rough, he wants to go hard.

Jason’s sweetness is starting to get on his nerves.

“Jason, please just-“ James begs softly. He’s desperate for his human to understand what he wants, he wants Jason to let loose, to just use him. 

Jason seems to always be careful around him, he’s careful with his touches and his kissing, always being delicate and cautious. It’s starting to drive James insane with how soft he is being.

James groans in the back of his throat at yet another soft kiss on his shoulder, he’d never say any of this out loud for risk of Jason not understanding, but this is just too soft for him, he wants Jason to be rough, to slam into him, to give him it rough and hard, to break him.

His hand in Jason’s curls grips them roughly, drawing a whine of pain from the bassist. “James—” He chokes out, feeling the dangerously sharp nails against his scalp.

James tightens his grip, not a hair on Jason’s head will escape him, “Stop being so damn soft with me.” James growls out, moving his other hand to Jason’s neck, his large hand easily wrapping around it, his claws dangerously close. 

“Just stop being so gentle,” James whines. While one hand stays around Jason’s pale neck, his other claws slide down his torso and grab his hip, urging him for him to move faster, harder. Jason’s always acting like he’s too delicate.

Jason, ever the people-pleaser, picks up the pace, blunt nails digging small crescents into his tanned skin.

James sighs in relief at this, it’s better than before, but Jason’s still not at that pace James wants, he’s still too gentle. Jason’s still not going fast enough, he’s still too careful. He wants Jason to break him, just let loose and give it to him rough, make him unable to walk straight, just push him to his limit.

“Jason,” he groans, the name is a mix between a plea and a growl. James’ grip on both Jason’s hair and his hip is tight, almost bruising. 

He’s going faster but it’s still not enough, James is losing his mind with Jason’s soft nature, he’s being too kind with him and James wants more. “Faster,” James sighs, his other hand digging into Jason’s back, definitely leaving red marks in its wake.

Jason’s movements are still too careful, too soft for James, he needs Jason to just let go of his delicacy and go rough with him, to take him, to really give it to him rough, he wants it to hurt in the best way possible, he craves it. “C’mon please,” James begs now, he’s getting frustrated with Jason’s softness.

James’ tail flicks against the bed in agitation, Jason’s touches is making his mind turn to mush, but at the same, he just wants Jason to let go, to stop worrying so much about being careful with him, Jason needs to let go and give it to him hard, he wants it to hurt. 

His tail wraps around Jason’s leg, an attempt to get him to go harder, to stop treating him like glass.

Jason’s pace seems to pick up a small bit, enough for James to notice the difference, but still just a tad too soft for his liking. James lets out a mix of a groan and a growl as his nails claw down his back, drawing red lines wherever they go. Jason just isn’t doing enough for him, he wants him to wreck him.

Jason hisses in pain, giving a particularly brutal thrust as retaliation. Fuck, that was good. That was perfect.

Finally. Finally Jason’s pace is what he wanted, he needed, he feels the familiar pain that accompanies Jason’s rough movements, a feeling James has come to love dearly. His hand retracts from Jason’s throat to grasp at the sheets

James lets out a guttural moan at the rough thrust, it’s what he’s been wanting all this time, Jason’s not being too soft anymore, he’s doing what James wants, it feels amazing.. 

James is finally getting what he’s been wanting, his nails dig into Jason’s back, definitely drawing blood this time, but he can’t find it in him to care when Jason’s got him so caught up in ecstasy.

It’s painful, it’s painful and good, it hurts in the best of ways and James loves it, he wants more, he needs more. He growls, low in the back of his throat, Jason finally getting the message. Jason finally understanding that James doesn’t want to be treated delicately like a god, that he wants him to use him, to treat him like he’s just a toy to derive pleasure from.

The sound of their skin slapping together is loud, it’s the only thing James can hear besides his own breathing, Jason’s breathing and the bed creaking beneath them, it’s music to his ears. James groans, Jason’s pace is the exactly what he wanted but he still wants more, he needs more. He wants Jason to break this time, to wreck him.

Jason’s pace gets faster, and the pain mixes in with the burning pleasure, it’s just what James wanted, Jason finally just letting go and giving it to him hard. Those rough hands fly to Jason’s back, digging into his skin slightly.

It’s rough and brutal, Jason’s letting go, not holding back, not being delicate, just giving it to him rough. James moans at that, his claws digging further into the human’s back, definitely drawing blood now.

Finally Jason’s getting it, just giving his all to him, not holding back at all. James feels Jason’s hands on his hips, bruises are already forming from his grip, he likes that, he wants Jason to ruin him. 

Jason’s pace is perfect, all James can do now is lay there and take it, a mix between a moan and a growl escaping his lips occasionally.

“You like it rough, you little slut?” Jason rasps, sweat dripping down his arms as he props himself up over James.

Jason’s words has James’ breath catch in his throat, his words sending a wave of pleasure through his whole body, his tail thumping against the bed, Jason’s hitting him in all the best spots, just hitting him perfectly. 

“Yes,” James groans, his breathing is ragged and his mind is fuzzy. At this point he’s completely lost his voice, he can barely form words, his tail is still thumping against the bed, Jason’s words affecting him more than the others.

Jason hisses as James claws at his back again. Sticky red blood smears across his back from the surface scratches, and he’s going to have a lot to explain should he get caught with such cuts.

James just loves the way Jason looks like this, the scratches he’s giving Jason, the red lines he’s leaving, his back all scratched up. Blood is smeared on his fingers from Jason’s back, and it’s beautiful to James. 

He wants Jason to be like this, covered in his scratches, covered in his marks and to have red lines in his skin showing exactly where James has been.

The way Jason is giving it to him just has his mind completely fuzzy, all he can do is moan. The scratches Jason has aren’t deep, but they’re definitely going to leave a mark, probably going to be there for a couple of weeks. Jason’s pace is brutal and that just has James’ mind turning to mush and his breath catching in his throat.

Jason’s head tips back, whimpers spilling from his lips like revered words, and god, James loves it when he’s like that. He sounds so pathetic, even when he’s not the one getting ruined.

James loves the sounds Jason is letting out, it’s music to his ears, the little whimpers and moans.. He can’t even think right now, his mind can only focus on Jason and the overwhelming pleasure that’s coursing through him. Jason’s pace is perfect, he’s perfect, everything about him in this moment is perfect.

Jason’s pace has James completely at his mercy, his mind fuzzy to the point that he can’t even form a coherent thought, all he can do is lay there and whimper and moan, letting out the noises Jason loves to hear so much. 

His tail is thumping against the bed, Jason hitting his prostate perfectly every time and James can’t do anything but lay there and feel the pleasure running through his veins.

As they simultaneously build up to their peaks, James’ nails break skin again, coating the shiny keratin in gore.

He can’t help but find a way to be gentle amidst the pleasure, James’ calloused fingers are rough against the scratches on Jason’s back and it’s a stark contrast from how brutal his touches have been previously.

Jason bites down hard on James’ shoulder, wincing as those sharp nails roam over the bloodied expanse of his back. The pain sinks into his flesh, but there’s an edge of pain that hits him just right, making it even more satisfying. 

James bites down on his lip to try to prevent a whimper from escaping it at the bite, but fails, a small whimper escaping him. Jason’s bite was definitely going to leave a mark, a nice reminder that James can keep, that Jason is his.

Heat coils in Jason’s loins like a firework ready to burst, his eyes squeezing shut as he hits his high, fingers digging into James’ slim hips with an iron grip. “Fuuuuck—”

Jason’s grip on his hips and his voice combined with the perfect pace just has James’ head spinning, his back arching off the bed, a moan escaping him at the rough grip Jason has on his hips. 

As they catch their breath, Jason’s lighter frame draped over James, they feel boneless. The both of them lay there for a little while, until James feels a liquid drip down onto his thigh from Jason’s back. 

Jason’s beautiful wine-coloured blood, warm and hot against his cool skin.

James wraps his arms loosely around Jason’s waist, a small sigh escaping him. His eyes glance down to his thigh, where Jason’s blood is dripping onto his skin, it’s pretty. James almost can’t tear his eyes away from it, wanting to burn the image into his mind.

Shakily, Jason sits up and moves off James, wincing at the semi-deep cuts’ sting. James can’t help but want to see the damage, his handiwork.

James sits up as well as Jason gets off him, his hands gently grabbing Jason’s shoulder, gently turning him. He looks down at Jason’s back, the scratches he’d left there, the red lines running down his back, all of them with blood staining a couple of them. 

He can’t help but be proud, he did that, he made Jason look like this, he did that to him. He wants Jason to keep those marks for as long as he can, he wants to see his scratches on him everyday.

“Turn around.” He commands, and Jason obeys like the good little human he is.

The red lines, the scratches that show exactly where James had been, the scratches that were all his doing, it’s gorgeous. Jason looks perfect like this, the scratches, the bruises and the marks. James can’t take his eyes off them, the scratches that are his to look at for as long as Jason keeps them, they’re his own creation.

To Jason, it’s a little bit concerning how much his back bleeds, trickling down his sweaty skin. To James, it’s so tantalising, reminiscent of a fresh kill to him. There’s the primal ache to just reach out and taste his gore, hot and a cherry red. 

He swipes up the blood left on his thigh, popping the finger in his mouth for a little taste, maybe it’d satiate him..

Jason’s blood on his thigh and the taste of it on his tongue has him sighing contentedly. His blood reminds him of the time the two first met, when his blood had been on his fur, he doesn’t feel ashamed thinking about it any more, because Jason is his, he is Jason’s. 

The blood from Jason on his tongue is bittersweet, it tastes metallic and like Jason, and there’s something primal inside James that just wants to keep tasting it, keep it pouring and keep this to himself, to his memory. A reminder of how he’d made Jason look like this, a reminder of how Jason is his in these moments, a reminder that Jason is his to ruin. 

“…What are you doing? Are you crazy?” Jason says half-seriously. It’s not meant as an insult, but he certainly is bewildered.

James hums, pulling his finger out of his mouth. “It tastes as good as it smells,” he explains, not bothering to elaborate further. 

He likes that Jason doesn’t understand him, that Jason won’t understand his desire to taste his blood, the way it reminds him of when they’d first met. It is comforting that Jason simply won’t get that.

“..Right, forgot you’ve got a taste for…blood.” Jason mutters, shaking his head.

James hums again, grabbing Jason’s hand and lacing their fingers together. Jason’s blood smells amazing, even just watching the small amount drip down on his back is wonderful, he wants to lick it off like a wound, a reminder that Jason is his, but he can’t, and it’s frustrating, he wishes Jason would just understand, he wants him to understand but he won’t.

“I should probably get that cleaned up.” He mutters, wiping his brow. “What would Kirk and Lars say…”

“What, you’re worried they’re gonna wonder what happened?” James guesses, letting his hand travel down Jason’s back. 

He’s pretty sure they’ll probably ask about it, and Jason probably won’t give a direct answer. He’s sure Kirk and Lars will know what’s up, they’re smart enough to figure it out, well, maybe not Lars, but still.

It’s amusing to think about what Jason will say if they ask, because they’ll definitely ask him, James knows that. They’re probably gonna ask if he’s been getting laid, and Jason will either lie or tell them he got attacked by an animal, it’ll be hilarious.

On unsteady feet, Jason stands. He knows fully well that showering will be a pain in his ass now that he’s all cut up.

James looks at Jason, eyes roaming over his scratched back a bit more, before looking up. He watches Jason stand up, stumbling a bit at first. He seems to be a bit unsteady on his feet, but James’ eyes are now fixed on the scratches on his back, he can’t help but admire his own handiwork again. It’s gorgeous, really.

“Where ya goin’?”

“To get this mess cleaned up.”

A thought pops into James’ head—Jason’s wounds need to be cleaned, and he’s got a craving for more of that coppery blood. Why not kill two birds with one stone?

“Come back—I’ll help.”

“Don’t we need to go to the bathroom?” An eyebrow raised, Jason turns back, wiping at the blood that’s trailed down to his tailbone,

James’ eyes flicker down to the blood that’s trailed down Jason’s back, a sight he loves to see, loves to look at. He’s proud of the sight and the scratches he’s caused. 

“It’s fine. We can get the sheets cleaned if it gets too messy.” He waves off Jason’s concerns, patting the spot in front of him.

“The sink—“

“Just sit.”

A small sigh escapes Jason, a small sigh that’s almost a huff. He can be stubborn, and James knows that, but he also knows Jason would probably prefer his wounds getting cleaned. So with that, Jason relents and sits back down in front of James, sighing as he does so. 

James shifts behind Jason, glancing at all the scratches he has left on Jason’s back.

Softly, his fingers brush against the scratches on his back, a couple of them causing Jason to flinch at the pain. James is gentle for now, because the scratches are still fresh and painful, and he doesn’t want to hurt Jason any more than he already has. 

After carefully checking the scratches, James leans in close to whisper to Jason.

“Can I lick ‘em?”

Instantaneously, Jason’s head whips around, and James gets a face full of curls. 

“You..WHAT?” Jason looks so taken aback, like it’s a horrifying thing James just asked. “It tasted good,” James explains with a shrug, his fingers still gently brushing against the scratches he’d made. He knows Jason isn’t gonna understand, but it doesn’t hurt to try and explain anyway. 

“Just a taste, I promise,” he adds, his tongue darting out of his mouth, the thought of licking those up making his mouth water.

“They’ll get infected!”

“They won’t,” James says softly, his fingers gently brushing against another scratch, watching as it drips a bit of blood. “Werewolf saliva prevents infection,” he lies, looking back up at Jason. “I just wanna taste,” he says, a bit of a whine escaping him.

“C’mon, please? Jase…”

James’ fingers brush against another one of the scratches, and his tongue involuntarily darts out, licking a bit of the blood from his finger. 

He doesn’t understand why Jason is so against it, because it definitely isn’t going to give an infection, and it’s just something that he wants to do, he wants it. It’s like when dogs lick a wound.

Jason considers it—and the poor bastard accepts the lie, huffing and turning his back fully to James, sweeping his hair out of the way. 

“Get on with it, whiny brute.”

James has a victorious feeling in his chest when Jason agrees to this, he can’t contain the proud smug on his lips as the human exposes his back for him.

The blonde shifts again, now he’s sat directly behind Jason, his eyes are fixated on the scratches he’d left on his skin. A small sigh escapes Jason’s lips and James takes it as the go ahead, before he leans in close, a hand gently on Jason’s thigh, the other on his waist to steady both them.

James pulls him close, his warm, unnaturally long tongue swiping at the weeping wounds, and Jason shivers. His saliva stings a little, cold against his heated skin. Warm hands fondle his body while James’ tongue favours the salty and coppery taste. 

“Licking it til’ it’s all better, huh?” Jason muses, glancing back at James.

James pulls Jason as close as he can while being careful not to press against his wounds too much, his tongue gently swiping at Jason’s scratches. His hands gently caress Jason’s waist and thigh, taking his time to lick all the scratches clean. 

James’ tongue laps at the various scratches he’d left on Jason’s back, his eyes occasionally glancing up to meet Jason’s. When Jason glances back at James, the werewolf pulls away for a second to answer.

“Mhm. Till it’s alllll better…” he purrs, before resuming licking at a particularly deep scratch.

He gathers up the blood from the scratches, his tongue swirling over them, his lips occasionally pressing against them in something that’s almost a kiss. He gets to them all, not a single scratch left without being cleaned, lapped at, or having his lips pressed against them.

He takes his time with licking Jason’s cuts clean, and when he’s done he’s satisfied with his work, his tongue flicks over the scratches one last time to catch any stray drops of blood that he may have missed.

James pulls away after making sure he’s gotten them all cleaned, a pleased hum escaping him as his tongue slips of his mouth. His hands are still on Jason’s waist and thigh, keeping him close. 

He can’t stop looking at the scratches on the human’s pale skin, he loves the marks he’s made, and he loves that he’s cleaned them up.

He loves the way they look, having his own marks on Jason’s soft skin. But he thinks what he loves even more is the fact that he’s got Jason right now, his human, his beautiful human in his hold, he’s got him sitting in front of him, his back on full display for his eyes to see. 

James pulls Jason even closer to his chest, the human’s back pressed against him, his arm wrapping around Jason’s waist, holding him flush against his chest.

He loves the way they look, having his own marks on Jason’s soft skin. But he thinks what he loves even more is the fact that he’s got Jason right now, his human, his beautiful human in his hold, he’s got him sitting in front of him, his back on full display for his eyes to see. 

James pulls Jason even closer to his chest, the human’s back pressed against him, his arm wrapping around Jason’s waist, holding him flush against his chest.

“I should get these wrapped up..” Jason lifts James’ hands off his body, shuffling to the edge of the bed. His back feels cold from the now-drying saliva on his back. Gross…

A slight pang of disappointment hits James when Jason pulls away from his grip, shuffling to the edge of the bed to get up. Not being able to touch Jason like that, to hold him like that is almost torture, but he doesn’t voice his disappointment. 

Instead, he watches in silence, his eyes looking at the scratches on Jason’s back, his mind running rampant as he thinks of the way Jason looked with them earlier.

Into the bathroom Jason goes, leaving James there on the bed alone. With nothing better to do, he follows his human in, holding onto the walls for support.

James follows Jason, his legs still a bit wobbly and shaky from their activities earlier, his hands holding onto the wall for support. He doesn’t say a word, he just follows, wanting to be close to Jason and watch him.

The auburnette finally gets a good look at his wounds—numerous scratches on his back, dried up blood faintly there. Yikes, it was worse than he thought. He twisted his body and dabbed at his wounds, wincing at the water on the warm washcloth. 

James just watches in silence, leaning against the doorframe as his eyes flick over to Jason, watching the way Jason carefully dabs the washcloth against his back, wincing at the pain. He can’t help but feel a hint of pride in his chest at the sight.

“I might need a little help…” Jason murmurs, glancing over his shoulder at James. 

James perks up at Jason’s words, quickly pushing himself off the doorframe, walking over to Jason. He knows what he means, and he’s ready and more than happy to help. 

James steps up behind Jason, arms going around his waist, and he carefully takes the washcloth from Jason’s hands.

“Want me to do it?”

“Yeah.”

At Jason’s words, James is happy to do it, starting to dab at the scratches as gently as he can, not wanting to hurt Jason, his other arm still wrapped around his waist, holding him close. 

His eyes look at the scratches he’d left on Jason’s back, admiring them, watching the way the washcloth rubs against them, and he does his best at being gentle, not wanting to press to hard or hurt Jason.

“Maybe next time I should wear something protective so I my back doesn’t get all fucked up.”

James’ hands stop for a second, his arms tightening a bit around Jason’s waist. The thought of Jason being protected from him in some way doesn’t sit right with him, because he knows that next time it’ll happen again.

“No,” James says, his mouth close to Jason’s ear, his voice slightly muffled by Jason’s hair, although his voice definitely held an edge of finality to it.

“I’d rather not have the wounds reopen..” He tries to justify—it’s a legitimate concern.

James’ eyebrows scrunch up a little at Jason’s words, his mind running rampant with a mix of emotion. Jason doesn’t understand, he doesn’t understand how it’s comforting for James to see his marks, he doesn’t understand how it would be unsettling for James if what they did earlier wasn’t a two way street. 

He just sighs, his hands gently dabbing the washcloth against Jason’s wounds again.

James’ movements are gentle as he dabs the washcloth against the scratches, his eyebrows still furrowed at his annoyance at the words Jason had said. He’ll be damned if Jason ever protects himself in any way from him.

Jason’s words ring in his ears even long after he’s done cleaning the scratches, James’ movements are still gentle, but his grip around Jason’s waist is still tight, his face buried in the crook of Jason’s now cleaned up neck.

Jason carefully unrolls a roll of bandages, holding them out to James in an unspoken question.

James sighs again, but carefully takes the bandages, wrapping them around Jason’s back over his scratches, securing them so they won’t fall off or let anything through them, making sure they won’t come undone. 

He’s still annoyed that Jason would even suggest protecting himself from him, but he tries not to let his annoyance shine through in his actions.

Jason turns back around and presses a chaste kiss to James’ temple, leaning up on his tippy toes. “Let’s go to bed.”

Despite his annoyance, James’ mood is softened slightly by Jason’s kiss, which has him nodding.

He grabs Jason’s hand, pulling him towards the bed, lying back down on it, keeping a hold of Jason’s hand, not wanting to let go or be far from him.

As sleep claims Jason, James traces the pattern on the bandages around Jason’s torso. Unfortunately for him, no tearing up Jason’s back for a while. And he’d have to see bandages instead of a beautifully scarred up back.

James lets out a small frustrated sigh at the bandages, his hand tracing over them, and his mind running rampant. The thought of Jason protecting himself from him is something he doesn’t like, and it makes his mind run wild with annoyance. He’ll have to talk to Jason about this.

James wraps his arms around Jason, hugging him close to the point it might’ve been too tight, his head buried in Jason’s messy curls.

The thought that he won’t be able to make Jason’s back worse for a while has him a bit upset, he wants to mark Jason up, make him his completely again, but he can’t. 

That’ll change, he promises himself that. He will get Jason to stop doing that, he’ll convince him to stop protecting himself from him.

He’ll make sure of it.

🍓

I LOVE YOUR WRITING OMFG YOU'RE THE BEST ILY

no I love you more 😝😘

𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊/𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍

warnings: psychological torment, non-consensual biting (at first), slight blood kink, begging, anal fingering, rimming, anal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, graveyard sex, sex on top of a literal grave but it’s okay cus it’s Kirk’s

Happy Halloween! I tried my hand at writing about (Jason) being scared, and there are first times for everything :)) anyways enjoy! (What I mean by crypt btw)

word count: 7.4K words (you were warned)

nsfw under the cut :)

Halloween. Kirk’s favourite holiday, where he could go out and mingle at parties without having to obscure his vampirism. He was starving, aching for fresh meat to sink his fangs into. The party he attended this year was wonderful—so many lovely choices of men and women, all dressed to the nines.

He scans the room, red eyes settling on the forms of Lars and James, dressed as a mummy and a shitty werewolf respectively. His friends spot him too and beckon him over. 

“Settling on the vampire look again?” Teases Lars.

Kirk rolls his eyes, adjusting his hair to stay out of his face. 

“And you’re a goddamn Mummy,” he retorts, shaking his head. “You two look like shitty actors from one cheap horror movie.”

Lars laughs and pats Kirk’s shoulder.

“At least we try something new,” he says cheerfully. “You wear the same thing every year and you’re only in disguise because you don’t want people to know you’re a blood-sucking monster.”

“And your costume is what exactly?” Kirk shoots back, not amused. “You look like a dollar-store bandage come to life. Not very scary.”

James snickered and leaned against the wall.

“You both look ridiculous, alright? But it’s a good night for hunting,” he says with a grin, a sly look on his face. “A lot of people here look very…tasty.”

Kirk smirks and looks around the gathering, taking note of some of the more delectable candidates. His gaze lands on a beautiful young man, standing by himself and looking rather lost. 

“Yeah…I guess there are a few options,” he muses, licking his lips absently. “I might go over and introduce myself to the pretty one over there.” James whines. “I was gonna go for him.”

Kirk snorts and shakes his head.

“You? You wouldn’t know what to do with him. He looks like the kind of man who’s sweet, polite, innocent. You’d scare him away with one dumb sentence, you big brute.”

James laughs at that. “And you’re going to be the charming prince swooping in to save the poor, innocent damsel?” Kirk rolls his eyes and grins arrogantly. “Of course. I’m far too charismatic to drive him away. I’ll charm the pants right off him.”

James snickers and pats his shoulder. “Well, alright. He’s all yours then. Try not to drain him fully when you finally sink your fangs into his pretty neck.” 

Kirk rolls his eyes and straightens his getup, adjusting the velvet cape around his shoulders so it drapes well down his back. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be back in a bit. Or not.”

Kirk eyes the man—dressed as an angel, a reflection of the characteristic innocence of the holy beings in those baby blue eyes. He can’t hold himself back—he has to have him. 

As he approaches, it’s like the angel senses his presence immediately, those stunning blues locking with his dark ruby eyes. A faint blush rises on the angel’s cheeks, lips curving faintly into a shy smile. 

Kirk can’t help but notice how he’s almost trembling faintly in his pristine white outfit. He’s like a porcelain doll, so delicate, so sweet, so innocent.

Perfect prey.

His figure is sleek and lean, akin to a dancer, and he moves with a certain grace that has the vampire captivated. He’s only slightly taller than Kirk, and he’s got tufts of auburn curls messily resting on his shoulders, flowing down his back. Kinky bangs frame his captivating eyes, and the fake halo that sits amongst his curls is a shiny white. 

He’s like walking, talking temptation, and Kirk can’t stop staring. He’s so damn beautiful, his scent so very appetizing. He feels the hunger in his chest burning, but he controls it and smiles charmingly instead. 

“Hi there,” he greets the boy, his eyes wandering over the tight, silk material of his white robe, two small slits on either side of his legs for more leeway. His top is more snug, a sleeveless silk top with a banded collar and some little gold accessories to match.

The whole costume looks expensive, or took a lot of time to make at the very least. “Hi.” The man responds, friendliness clear through his toothy grin, a beer in hand.

Kirk can’t help but stare for a beat longer, taking in the pretty smile, the beautiful gleam of those eyes…and the delicate, elegant long lines of his neck. 

So slender, so inviting. 

Almost as if sensing the thought, the angel tucks his chin down, hiding his neck ever so slightly, as though shy. It’s an utterly charming gesture that only serves to fan the flames of Kirk’s desire. He swallows, snapping himself out of his thoughts and grins. 

“So, enjoying the party?”

“It’s nice…though I’m looking for my friend. He’s supposed to be here.”Kirk tilts his head to one side. “Is that so?” He asks, feigning mild interest. 

“What’s his costume?”

“He’s a ghost.”

“A ghost, huh?” 

Kirk’s eyes twinkle a bit with a hint of mischief. “And where exactly is this friend of yours? Off haunting the punch table or something?”

“Beats me.” 

The man’s phone dings, and Kirk can’t help but watch how his bangs frame his face when he cants his head. 

“Oh. My friend couldn’t make it. Great, now I’m stuck here alone.” He sounds less than thrilled, probably after having to go to such lengths to make his costume. 

“What a waste of a night.”

When the beautiful creature pouts, Kirk’s mouth dries up instantly. Christ, he’s adorable. “Hey, there’s no need to look so disappointed…” He says with a coy tone of voice, taking a few steps closer to the angel. 

“I could take you out somewhere else…” He offers tentatively. Jason’s interest piques, and he tilts his head to the side. “Like where?”

Kirk grins and takes one more step, their chests almost flush together. “The night is still young,” he purrs. “There’s so many more exciting places to go to before closing time…unless you’d rather stay at this boring party, of course.”

Jason thinks for a moment, considering his options. And his cerulean eyes lock with crimson ones, his resolve determined. 

“Where to?”

Kirk can’t help the shiver of excitement that runs down his spine. He grins, fangs gleaming in the faint light. This beautiful, sweet, gullible man was willingly walking into the jaws of a beast—a predator. 

“Follow me,” he says, almost huskily. “I know a spot.”

Jason’s holding onto Kirk’s arm as they creep through the graveyard. Kirk’s all too familiar with the place, but Jason’s like a scared little mouse.

“Are you scared?” 

Kirk purrs, a smug note audible in his tone. He can hear the rapid beating of Jason’s heart, the way his breath comes quick and shallow with nerves as they walk through the dark, silent graveyard.

“A little…” He gulps, glancing around in case anything were to jump out at them. Angels were supposed to be beacons of fearlessness, and here Jason was, shaking like a leaf, clinging to Kirk like his life depended on it.

Kirk bites his lip, holding back a chuckle. The angel was absolutely adorable when he was nervous like this. It made him seem so small and fragile, almost like a little puppy. 

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” he assures, resting a hand on Jason’s lower back and rubbing it in a comforting gesture. “You’re safe with me.”

Jason glances down in surprise when he steps on a twig, his halo falling to the ground. He lets go of the ravenette’s arm to pick it up, and when he stands back up after readjusting its position on his head, he finds himself alone. 

He glanced around once, twice, thrice, and Kirk has vanished. Fear spikes through his heart like thorns, and his big doe eyes are wide in fear. 

“Kirk?” He asks, voice so shaky, fear rolling off him in waves.

Jason’s all alone in this creepy graveyard in the middle of god knows where, it’s coming close to midnight, and he swears he’s not alone. 

Fear gripes his heart like a vice, panic settling in as he swerves left and right to try and catch a glimpse of the man. He takes a few steps forward, oh-so paranoid, watching the tombstones and the shrubbery and the forest nearby. He might just believe in the supernatural now.

“Kirk!?” 

Jason calls again, panic rising. He can feel himself trembling from fear, the silence around him suddenly deafening. “Where are you?” 

He scans the area around him, looking for clues of Kirk’s whereabouts. His heart is beating out of his chest, his muscles taut with tension as he takes a few halting steps forward, almost afraid of what he might stumble upon.

Nothing. 

Not a sound, not a glimpse of that dark hair or sharp smile, or even the flicker of that velvet cape. He’s well and truly alone now, a sitting duck in the middle of this dark and seemingly haunted place.

“Kirk..?” 

He says weakly, no conviction left in his voice. His breaths come in short puffs, vision going slightly hazy from fright.

He glances to his right at the sound of a twig snapping, whipping his head around and finding….nothing. Not a single soul. 

“Who’s there…?” 

Jason asks shakily, looking around in a frenzy for the source of the sound. His heart is beating madly out of his chest, panic clawing his throat with icy fingers.

The fright is swallowing him whole, and he can hear another twig snap closer to him, only a few feet behind him. He spins around—nothing. So he does the only thing he knows how to do. 

Run.

He takes off running with sheer panic, heart in his throat. He can’t bring himself to look back, can’t hear anything over the loud beating of his own heart and the rush of adrenaline. His mind is empty, focused only on the single goal of getting away from whoever or whatever is behind him.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, can’t see clearly in front of him, and stumbles over the uneven ground numerous times, twigs and leaves grasping at his ankles in his hurry. Adrenaline is roaring in his ears, fear driving his legs and fuelling his panic.

There’s a faint voice in the back of his mind, screaming at him to slow down before he falls and breaks his ankle—but it’s soon drowned out by the fear of being hunted or chased down. 

His breaths are harsh and ragged, lungs screaming and muscles aching with the effort to run, panic driving him on. 

He can hear footsteps behind him, heavy and loud and gaining on him fast. He can’t even see what’s after him now—his vision swimming and chest clenching from fright.

He’s in hysterics, tears muddling his vision and his breathing is erratic—his lungs burn and so do his calves, but he keeps on running. The graveyard is a maze, and he can’t seem to find the exit.

And then he falls. 

His foot tangles up with a root sticking out of the ground, and he’s sent careening to the grass. Pain blooms in his ankle at the impact, sharp and sudden, and he can’t supress a cry of pain. He tries to scrabble and crawl away as he hears those footsteps coming close—almost upon him. 

He drags himself behind a large oak tree and muffled his breathing. The footsteps stop, and they sound confused…where did he go? 

The footsteps finally fade into the night after moving around a little more, and Jason breathed the tiniest sigh of relief. He peeks out from behind the tree to catch a glimpse of whatever had been chasing him. 

Still, nothing.

Just when he thinks he’s safe, there’s an overwhelming aura emanating from behind him. His breath catches in his throat, and he’s far too scared to even turn around. He’s cornered like a dog, and he musters the courage to look behind him.

But before he can do so, a strong hand wraps around his shoulders, pulling him back against someone’s chest. Jason’s wracked with sobs. He thinks it’s all over for him, this is how he’ll die. 

“Found you.”

Kirk does feel a pang of guilt at the sight of Jason like this—scared and crying and looking at him like he’s the devil himself. But he’s starved and he’s owed a meal, but not before playing with his food a little.

Of course, this is all part of his game. He needs to get the boy scared, get his blood pumping, and draw out that sweet fear pheromone. God, he's even more beautiful when he's so utterly petrified. Still, he has to admit to himself there’s something about the angelic boy’s frazzled and hysteric state that twists something in his chest slightly. God, he's even more beautiful when he's so utterly petrified.

Jason goes completely still when he feels the arm around him, tears streaming down his face as terror seeps through his very core. He’s trembling like a leaf even as he tries to keep quiet, scared of what will happen next. 

He swallows back a sob, trying to get his breathing under control. “Please…please don’t hurt me…” He whispers out brokenly, looking up at Kirk desperately, begging for his life. 

And he looks so, so beautiful in the dim light of the night, tears marring his soft features and eyes wide like a doe’s.

Kirk almost feels bad for having to scare him so badly, but he's also starving, and the fear makes his blood pump faster and his sweet scent even more potent. It makes his fangs ache in his jaws, and it's taking all his willpower not to sink them deep into that slender, smooth neck. 

His eyes gleam sadistically, leaning down so close that his lips brush over the shell of Jason’s ear. Jason’s chest heaves, his eyes sparkling under the moonlight. His gasps stutters and his breath shudders.

Jason’s body is rigid, frozen in fear as he feels the vampire breathing in his scent, that hand on his neck doing little to quell the panic that’s coursing through him. His lips are trembling, and a wave of dread courses through him. This is it. This is the end. 

“Please, please don’t hurt me…” He whispers pleadingly, a new wave of tears leaking from his eyes.

Kirk feels a pang of guilt again, but it’s quickly overridden by hunger and need. He grins and runs the tip of his nose over the pale, slender column of Jason’s neck, breathing him in greedily. He can feel the rapid beat of his pulse as he nuzzles over the skin on his neck, just shy of touching the sensitive skin with his mouth. 

He can feel the fear coming off Jason in waves, the scent of it strong enough to leave him heady and almost drunk.

Jason’s breaths are coming in short, sharp gasps, every exhale a small whimper of fear. He can feel the press of that mouth on his skin, feel the hot wet puff of breath tickling his collarbones, and he can’t stop the tears from streaming down his face. 

“I-I’ll do anything…please—whatever you want. Just don’t hurt me. Please.” He whimpers out, tears running freely down his face. It’s so pathetically arousing to Kirk.

Kirk feels it as a shiver runs through Jason’s entire body with that utterance, and it causes a jolt of excitement and arousal through him, too. The sheer begging and pleading would’ve been enough to get him all hot and bothered alone, but the fear pheromone emanating from those words, mixed with the tears on that smooth, porcelain face, was like an electric shock to his body. 

He groans softly, unable to hold back the sound.

Jason can hear the groaned out sound from the vampire as well as feel his breath on his neck, his entire body trembling in fear, pulse racing. He closes his eyes, almost praying to whatever god is out there that he’ll get out of this alive somehow. 

He can’t stop the tremors, can’t stop the tears, and he can’t help the pitiful whimpers that escape him as he continues to cry. He knows he looks a mess right now—terrified, pathetic, hysterical…

It’s taking all of Kirk’s restraint to hold himself back. The tears, the smell, the whimpers—he’s holding back the animalistic instincts within himself in a battle of restraint. He’s not going to pounce on the beautiful boy here and now—he’s going to drag this out a bit more. 

He can’t help the way he nuzzles his face into the crook of Jason’s neck, letting out a shaky breath at how close he is to tasting this angelic creature. As much as he’d like to take him right there and then, it would be more enjoyable if Jason could derive pleasure from this too.

Jason can feel everything—the press of that mouth on his neck, the cool breath of the vampire on his heated skin, the heat from that body pressed flush against his back. And then, suddenly, he feels a sensation that makes his brain come to a screeching halt. 

He can feel the vampire’s tongue licking a slow stripe over his neck. He freezes instantly, heart in his throat, body trembling.

Jason’s reaction to that one gesture is the final nail in the coffin. 

Kirk’s restraint snaps, the desire and hunger becoming too strong to hold back. His breathing huffs out in ragged gasps, and he pushes the boy’s head to the side with his nose, baring that lovely neck even more. 

He lets his lips finally press down over the soft, sensitive skin of his neck, mouthing over it eagerly.

Jason groans, and Kirk’s free hand slides down his body, sensing his now growing arousal, and holding onto his hip with a firm grip.

Meanwhile, the angel is having a terrible time with his unwarranted arousal, how could he be getting hard when there’s someone, something, that could kill him any time?

That faint sound of pleasure from Jason sends a jolt of heat through Kirk’s body. So, the boy does want this. Interesting. He grins against the crook of his neck at the Kirk is absolutely addicted to the sounds the boy makes. 

He can’t stop himself from touching as much of that lovely skin as possible, his touches gentle as his fingers slide up the inside of Jason’s thigh. 

Kirk nips at the angel’s ear, licking softly at the skin. He can also feel his own arousal growng, pressed against the red-head’s thigh as he continues to lick and mouth at Jason’s neck. He can’t stop the soft guttural growl that comes from the back of his throat.

Jason can feel it too, digging into his leg so shamelessly. And as much as he wishes he wasn’t, his briefs started feeling tighter. This was the worst—getting hard by someone you don’t even know, in a situation that meant life or death.

He can both feel and hear the whimper that leaves Jason’s lips as he realises the boy’s growing arousal as well, and it makes his grin grow even wider. The whimper also causes him to give a hard press of his hips against the thigh, the friction making him shiver a little. 

His tongue continues to lap and lick along the sensitive skin of his neck, before he nips the skin gently, fangs just barely scraping over the surface of it.

By now, Jason’s well aware the person behind him has some sort of fangs, so it’s some sort of unnatural humanoid creature that’s marking up his neck like a lover.

Jason’s neck is absolutely bruised from the vampire’s lips and teeth, marked so pretty that there’s no doubt of what caused it. Kirk continues to mouths along his neck, moving up and biting at the skin just below the ear. The hand on the angel’s hip slides down further, the other still gripping firmly at his throat.

“You taste so good, pretty boy…” 

Kirk speaks against the skin of his neck, lips moving back and forth over the flesh. His tongue occasionally laps over the surface to gather more of that sweet taste. He loves those whimpers and soft gasps the boy’s letting out and the way he’s pushing back against him ever so slightly. 

His tongue and lips slowly move up towards the boy’s ear and he grins. 

“Just wait till I taste you elsewhere….”

A jolt of arousal runs up Jason’s spine, his cheeks flushing. Kirk thinks it’s divine intervention that Jason doesn’t recognise his voice, but then again, they’d only met that night. 

Despite the unfamiliarity, the reactions he’s getting from the angel is making it more fun by the second. The flushes across his face that he can’t tell apart from the fear, those delicious whimpers and gasps, and the hardening of his arousal against his own body. 

He decides he wants more of these reactions, so that’s where he’s going next. 

His hand on the boy’s neck slides down, fingers skimming along the buttons of his shirt and popping them open slowly, down until his sternum.

Jason shivers—this predicament he’s in is surprising, but he only wished that it wasn’t some creature that wished to fuck him.

More and more of the angel’s skin is revealed as Kirk pushes the fabric of the shirt to the side, exposing those lovely collarbones, those soft and smooth shoulders, the skin that he could just devour. 

His lips and tongue are all over that skin now, leaving behind a trail of bruising kisses and faint marks of his teeth, moving and sucking up to the boy’s ear. 

“You’re gorgeous…” He murmurs hotly, breath tickling the skin of the boy’s ear. He spots his own single crypt nearby—black delight violas pooling around the base. His plan is simple: to have Jason on top of his own coffin, on the sleek greyed marble, untarnished through the years.

He slowly maneuvers Jason back towards his own crypt, mouth continuing to bruise up the skin beneath his lips, leaving behind a pretty trail of marks that’s almost hypnotising to himself. 

His nose nudges the boy’s head to the side, exposing the crook of his neck, and Kirk can’t help it. He needs to taste this sweet skin once again, needs to taste the blood pumping right underneath the surface. 

That neck is exposed so willingly now, and Kirk runs his lips and tongue right over it again.

Jason is flipped around to face him—and the angel expects to see some horrible, ugly creature of the night, but is met by a familiar face buried in his neck…

“Kirk?”

Kirk lifts his head from Jason’s neck at that sound. He’s surprised that the boy hadn’t recognised him already.

“You…I thought you…” He’s speechless. He doesn’t know what to say. Was he supposed to be mad? That Kirk had left him and chased him around and held him hostage like it was some funny little game? Or was he supposed to be even more aroused, that the pretty Californian man had hunted him down like he was some sort of rabbit and marked him up like he owned him?

Kirk can see and hear the conflicting thoughts running through that pretty head. He can smell the confusion in the pheromones that are still being released from his body—arousal, confusion, a little bit of hurt. 

He grins at the sight, a mix of amusement and hunger, feeling a dark thrill at the way Jason looks right now beneath him. He can’t decide if it’s adorable or arousing that the boy is so confused, so conflicted. 

He’s holding Jason prisoner, pinning his slender body against the thick marbled gravestone of his very own resting place…

Kirk presses forward some more. He’s leaning forward, keeping that body pinned against the marble, watching the way Jason looks back up at him with wide eyes, full lips parted. 

“You look so beautiful like this….” He murmurs lowly, eyes running all over the slender figure, taking in every little bit of skin that’s exposed and every little mark he’s left. 

Now, Jason’s sat on the crypt, Kirk standing as he mouths desperately at his neck, tracing his lifeline with his tongue. Jason’s robes are hiked up for his legs to have more room to move, pooling around the marble like a veil. 

Despite all his questions and all, Jason can’t help but let Kirk do what he wants, clutching his costume as he groans softly, eyes screwed shut. Kirk’s free hand moves lower, under Jason’s robes to trace his thigh.

Jason’s skin is so smooth under his fingers that it has him shivering, and when that lovely moan comes out, he almost buckles at the knees. He’s never heard anything so sweet. He continues to run his tongue and lips along the boy’s neck, sucking harshly at the skin occasionally to leave behind marks of his own. His other hand is on his pale thigh, running up and down that bare skin.

Jason’s skin is addictive to the touch. It’s so soft and smooth, like supple porcelain, and Kirk absolutely craves more of it, just to explore, to devour, to claim. 

He nips at that delicious neck again, sucking at the skin roughly, and he can feel the moan of pleasure that vibrates through Jason’s body. His teeth graze over the bruised skin, just a hint of fangs in the gesture.

Then, as quick as lightning, he sinks his teeth into Jason’s jugular, and those ice blue eyes fly open. A pained cry escapes his lips, and his neck throbs. He claws at Kirk’s clothes, the sharp pain almost numbing.

When the blood hits his tongue, it’s absolutely heavenly. It’s a rush of pleasure and ecstasy and sweetness that floods through his veins, leaving him euphoric. He could get very used to how this boy tastes, how he feels and sounds and smells. He grips Jason’s thighs, keeping them open and spread to fit him between, taking more and more of the blood from his neck.

“Stop—what the hell-!” Jason tries to pull Kirk off, eyes wide in fear and betrayal. 

There is no stopping now. Jason can only watch as Kirk continues to drink and feed from his neck. But he can sense the panic and the fear and betrayal rising in Jason, and a small part of him does feel guilty for not telling the boy the truth, for leaving him in the dark like this. 

So he pulls back reluctantly, licking over the wound he’s made.

Jason’s staring at him like he’s a serial killer drenched in gore, and he feels the puncture wounds in his neck with horror. 

“You—”

The look in Jason’s eyes makes something in Kirk twinge. Those beautiful pools of blue staring at him like he’s some kind of monster. 

He is a monster, isn’t he? 

He stares back, watching those eyes widen even more at the dark stains of red on his lips and the fangs that are visible.

His breath shudders, and Jason curses himself for being so naive—who goes to a graveyard with a person they’d only met that night? 

“You’re a vampire!”

He can see the horror, the fear, and the realization in Jason’s eyes. It makes some part of him cringe, knowing this is not how he would have wanted the night to end. But there’s no denying the truth anymore, so he nods, a soft exhale escaping him. 

“…I am.” He replies quietly. Of course he is. 

He’s still standing between Jason’s legs, hands resting on the tops of his thighs, pinning him to the smooth, grey, polished surface of his resting place.

“You bit me!”

It’s a simple statement. He did bite him. 

His lips are still tinged a deep red from the boy’s blood, and there’s small drops of the liquid in the corners of his mouth. He stares back at Jason, guilt settling like ash in his lungs. 

“I did.”

“I’m going to die!” He shrieks, and Kirk thinks he’s louder than the banshees that used to be his neighbours.

There it is. The panic and the panic-induced hysterics. Jason’s going to think he’ll die and then go on a rampage. 

“No—No! You’re not going to die—I only drank a little…and besides, I’d never kill you.” Kirk reassured, and Jason can tell Kirk’s panicking a little too.

“Relax…I only drank some. You won’t die, I won’t let you. I’d never kill you…I only drink from people every once in a while, usually when I’m hungry, but you, you just taste so damn good…I couldn’t resist. But you’re fine, you’re not dead, you’re going to be okay, I’m telling you..” 

He’s rambling by now, desperately trying to keep Jason’s attention and calm him down, hands gripping at his thighs soothingly.

“You’re a vampire—you’ll drink me dry and-and leave my body here!” Jason’s making up scenarios in his mind, which in turn make him even more panicked and scared. And now the boy’s even making up scenarios in his mind. Kirk frowns, knowing it’s only making this situation even more difficult. 

So he does the only thing he really wants to do at that moment. 

Their mouths clash together, Jason’s own blood filling his mouth, coppery and tangy. Kirk is desperate, their lips moving together in a heated, passionate manner.

Jason stares at him, taken aback, but Kirk’s so tender and gentle that he almost wants to believe him. If Kirk wanted to drain him, he would’ve done so by now, right?

Kirk pulls back, leaving Jason breathless and wide-eyed and confused once again, and he leans his head forward until their foreheads are pressed together, his hands still holding softly onto the boy’s shoulders.

He can’t help the desperate plea that leaves his lips. “Please…trust me. I won’t kill you, or drain you, or anything of the sort. I swear. All I did was drink a few drops….”

Jason hesitates. He seems so genuine, and those wine red eyes look up at him pleadingly, like he was an innocent creature that just wanted a meal. Kirk can see the hesitance in Jason’s eyes, but at least there’s something other than fear in them. He gently touches the underside of the boy’s jaw, tilting his head to the side so more of that lovely neck is exposed to him once again. 

“I swear, I won’t kill you.” He repeats in that same pleading voice, hands gripping slightly tighter at his shoulders. He doesn’t want to accidentally bruise those beautiful shoulders. “I’d rather do something else to you, anyway..”

Heat floods Jason’s cheeks at the admission, and without prompt, Kirk leans in close, a hand sneaking up Jason’s thigh, creeping past his briefs. Cold hands cup Jason’s growing erection, a shudder running up the angel’s spine, a soft gasp escaping his lips. 

Having a literal vampire fondle him shouldn’t make him this aroused, but somehow it does. He’s not quite sure if it’s the fact that Kirk could kill him any second if he wanted to, or that he chooses not to, that has him so turned on.

Kirk is absolutely addicted to the sounds Jason makes. He nips at the boy’s ear, licking softly at the skin before speaking in a soft and pleading voice. 

“I want you so bad, baby…” His voice is low, breathing in Jason’s scent and licking up the blood trickling out from his wound. 

Kirk’s hand slides under Jason’s underwear to stroke softly at his hardened cock, marveling at how big it is. Jason stifles a moan, holding onto the lapels of Kirk’s cloak. He gazed at the human adoringly, like he was a prized painting in an art gallery.

He frees Jason’s shaft from its confines, shoving his robes up to gather around his hips. The vampire spat into his hand and pumped the angel’s cock with fervour, drawing a sigh from Jason. Precome pearls at his tip, leaking down the underside of his engorged dick, further helping Kirk’s hand slide up and down even faster. 

“Fuck—like that…please..” He murmurs, resting his forehead on Kirk’s shoulder, fingers digging into his cloak. Kirk’s hand moves quick, Jason’s mind spins in pleasure from the pace, praises spilling from his lips like holy words.

Leaning onto Kirk as his toes curl, Jason whimpers incessantly, quivering in the ravenette’s hand. He can feel himself drawing close, balls growing tight as his climax builds. 

He’s so, so close, and just as he’s about to hit his release, Kirk pulls away with a sly grin, leaving him high and dry.

“Wait—please..don’t stop..!” Jason whines into Kirk’s clothes, lifting his head up to meet him. His eyes are glassed over and hazy with pleasure, need welling in his powder-blue orbs. Kirk almost wants to give in, to give Jason exactly what he needs, but he restrains himself.

Instead, he pushes Jason onto his back on the crypt, his legs hanging over the edge. He kneels between his legs and tosses Jason’s briefs to the side mindlessly, focusing on the haven presented to him. 

Teasingly biting and sucking and marking up Jason’s inner thighs, Kirk lets his fangs scrape his thighs, goosebumps trailing up his skin. To his surprise, Jason mutters something so soft, he can barely hear it. 

“Speak up, darlin’, I can’t hear you.” 

“Bite me again. Please.”

He whispered it in such a needy tone, Kirk’s length jumped in his pants, straining against their confines, begging to be free and to have at Jason. He nearly gives in to Jason’s request, yearning to sink his jaws into his lovely pale flesh. 

But he had self-restraint, even in a time like this, and instead nibbles on his skin, leaving little indents of his teeth. That satisfies Jason enough, whining softly, begging for more stimulation. 

Eager to get to work to pleasuring Jason, he grips pale hips and lifts Jason’s pretty little pink pucker to mouth level, resting the crook of his knees on his shoulders. He’s buried between two muscular thighs which are trembling with anticipation, dipping his tongue into that tight wet heat, licking and sucking.

Jason grunts, Kirk’s tongue teasing around the rim, tracing the it with long, flat licks that has his cock leaking down his front. He stares up at the black sky and the stars, and he’s sure if God’s real he’d be looking back down at him disappointedly. Dressed as an angel, getting his ass eaten by a bloodsucking supernatural creature. How shameless he was, in a graveyard, a resting place for the deceased, no less.

And yet, the thrill of it all is intoxicating, getting chased around, bitten and fucking a super hot vampire. Kirk’s tongue dips deep into his hole, and it’s unnaturally long, prodding against a rubbery bump that has him crying out  unintentionally. 

“Shit—oh god..” He breathes, his leg muscles pulling taut as he stiffens in pleasure, thighs clamping around Kirk’s head. He merely hums between Jason’s legs, eating him out like a man starved. 

If this was how he’d die, Jason wouldn’t really mind it. 

The pressure in his belly builds up again, his cock pulsing. Kirk takes notice and somehow manages to speed up his movements, bringing Jason over the edge far sooner than he’d expected. 

Come spurts out of Jason’s throbbing cockhead, dribbling down his chest and dirtying his lovely silks. A skilled hand wraps around his sensitive shaft, milking him while working his fluttering hole. Jason squirms in oversensitivity, spasming around Kirk’s tongue. Cold hands knead the flesh of his ass soothingly, as if trying to ground him.

When every last drop is squeezed from the human, Kirk releases him and rests him back on the smooth marble. Jason’s chest heaves, body still coming down from the aftershocks of his orgasm. 

Kirk climbs onto the sleek crypt, admiring the sight before him. He’s a little distracted for a moment. Jason’s shirt is in disarray, sliding off his shoulders, the first three buttons of the shirt ripped open to expose miles of creamy skin. The pale flesh is littered with a trail of marks from his own lips, bruised and tender looking. His hair is in disarray, and those big doe eyes are staring up at him wide with satisfaction.

He’s absolutely mouthwatering like this.

And soon he’ll have his fill of the man, settling between those pliantly spread legs again. He drags a finger through the puddle of cum on Jason’s abdomen, tracing around his hole. Their eyes meet again, and Kirk’s carry a silent question, to which Jason responds with a bite of his lower lip.

Jason jolts as a long finger slides into his warm walls. It’s been a while since he’d fucked anyone, and it’s obvious to Kirk from how he felt like a vacuum around his finger. Kirk moved to quickly push into Jason’s tight hole, hearing him whine loudly and rock back onto his fingers.

Another finger is slipped in, pumping in and out of Jason, fingers curling and uncurling. His fingers search for Jason’s prostate again, feeling around and spreading his fingers. 

“Another.” Jason croaks out, and Kirk complies, slipping another finger past that tight ring of muscle. He sighs, letting Kirk do the work as his dick worked to half-hardness again, jolting to a near-full erection when Kirk presses down on his g-spot. 

“There?” Kirk asks simply, working his fingers over that spot in a repetitive poking motion. “Right there…” Jason breathes, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure overtakes him.

Once deemed prepared enough, Kirk pulls out his aching shaft and spits in his hand, gobs of salvia mixed with the remnants of Jason’s blood. He jerks himself off a few times, slicking himself up all while making eye contact with Jason.

Jason catches sight of Kirk’s beautifully hung length; the auburnette’s form tremors in anticipation, eager to be stuffed full like it was thanksgiving all over again. “C’mon…don’t make me wait..” He whines, arousal bleeding out into his voice. 

Kirk merely chuckles and aligns himself with Jason, giving one last glance of confirmation. 

“Please.” 

And that was all Kirk needed before he’s pushing the tip of his flush cock into Jason, ramming his whole dick into him without warning. Jason cries out at the sudden intrusion, his legs clamping around Kirk’s hips as if to still himself. 

Kirk is kind enough to let him adjust to his size, and Jason flutters around him to try and accommodate. His cold, clawed hands settle on the warm and soft flesh of Jason’s hips, which are narrow with his ilium jutting out slightly. Kirk admires how sleek the mortal’s figure is, build akin to a dancer’s, and how his crimson blood has dried around those pretty puncture wounds.

Meanwhile, Jason breathes deep. Kirk is a lot to take, and while he prides himself on being more of a size queen, Kirk’s more girthy than his previous hookups. Soon enough, he’s shifting his hips back into Kirk as he seeks more friction. 

This doesn’t go unnoticed by Kirk, who gladly starts to fuck in and out of him at a not-so-slow pace. Nonetheless, Jason’s blinded by ecstasy, his loud cries of satisfaction ringing through the graveyard. Kirk pats himself on the shoulder for finding such a secluded spot—there’s no way he’d be able to keep Jason silent if it were closer to town…

Kirk’s cockhead draws back before snapping back into Jason and ramming against his prostate, drawing choked moans from the latter. “Don’t stop—!” He cries, fingertips digging into Kirk’s shoulders. The bite of his grip only serves to get Kirk further more aroused, rutting into his partner with even more vigour.

Jason doesn’t think he’ll last long at this rate, Kirk’s cold hands roaming the exposed expanse of his body, a cheeky hand tweaking one of his nipples, pulling on it just to hear him whimper. The other moves to circle Jason’s engorged tip, spreading his precome around while dipping his thumb into his slit slightly.

Face burning, he holds onto the edges of the crypt for stability as Kirk ruthlessly pounds into him like he’s got something to prove. It’s so good that it sends shivers up his spine.

If something like this happened every year, Halloween would be his favourite holiday. Not even his birthday would beat getting fucked by a super hot vampire on a tomb in the middle of nowhere.

Kirk’s analysing Jason’s every twitch and facial expression, trying to take note of what he liked and didn’t. Sweat beads on his brow and yet his boundless stamina contributes to his lack of tiredness. 

On one hand, his stamina was perfect for pleasuring people who took a while to come. On the other, it wasn’t as good for individuals like Jason, who’s now come once already, but is still getting fucked at the same pace. 

Overstimulation starts to overtake Jason, his chest heaving as his shaft pathetically spurts any remnants of come left from his orgasm. His hole is still being used like a fucktoy for Kirk’s pleasure, and he just pathetically clenched around him. All he could do is hang on for dear life as Kirk splits him open. 

To Jase, Kirk’s not really close to reaching his climax, focused intently on the sensations of Jason around him as he tips his head forward, raven curls hanging forward, wet with sweat. 

The pleasure now borders on pain as Kirk continues to tease Jason’s energy-drained body, jerking off his dick with a talented hand. Tears spring to his eyes, and he feels sensitive to any little touches, even as he feels his third climax of the night start to build. He bites his lips, hard, eyes screwing shut. 

Jason’s third orgasm hits him hard like a ton of bricks. He whimpers pathetically, squirming in Kirk’s grip as release splatters over his chest like some sort of abstract painting. His chest heaves as he’s now shifting about in Kirk’s grip, trying to find a little relief from the constant assault on his prostate.

Kirk can just about feel his own high coming soon, looking at how messed up Jason was from him certainly brought it much closer. His hands shift to Jason’s hips, bruisingly tight, thrusting into him with reckless abandon, chasing his pleasure down like a hound. 

Weakly, Jason’s fourth orgasm comes around the same time Kirk’s does, splattering over his already ruined silks, even reaching his own chin. Kirk throws his head back, shooting his load deep into the warm confines of Jason. The latter is surprised by how much Kirk came in one go, his own dick twitching and going limp against his come-coated chest.

Jason can feel Kirk’s hot spunk leak out of his throughly loosened hole even while he’s still balls deep in him. Christ, he really was ruined, wasn’t he?

“That was amazing.” Kirk pants, lying next to Jason on his crypt. Jason’s dazed and he barely registers Kirk’s words. “Huh? Oh, yeah. It was…the best sex I’d ever had. What a way to spend Halloween.” He murmurs, glancing at Kirk, his body feeling like lead. Kirk scans his form with a soft smile.

“Let’s get you cleaned up…”

“Y’know we still have some time until the sun comes up.” Kirk grins, fangs gleaming as Jason huffs, blowing a piece of hair from his face. “What, will you burn in the sun or something?” 

Kirk merely laughs, and Jason wouldn’t mind seeing that everyday. “No, not at all. But I’d rather show you my home.” “Better not be a stupid castle or coffin.” 

Kirk rolls his eyes, but what could Jason really expect from a vampire of all things?

“Trust me, it’s a lot nicer than that. Who do you take me for?” “Nosferatu?” Jason offers. Kirk gasps in faux outrage. “Am I that ugly?” He pouts. “Certainly not.” Jason grins up at him, leaning into his cold grasp like it was the warmest place on earth. 

“Just take me to your home and bandage me up. And how do you suppose I hide the bite marks?” He hadn’t really thought of that. Neither of them had.

“Say that killer vampire stole your heart.”

“And my blood?” 

“Sure.”

“…I can work with that.”

my boyfriend yall 🗣️🗣️‼️

Yall dont fw Jason in blue bathrobe like 𝐈 𝐃𝐎

heyy im requesting again cus i liked the work you did for me so much :) could you do one with Jason/Anyone based on @hexxeddorm’s drawing on a waitress Jason? (im pretty sure you’ve seen it) the rest is up to what you want to write, just need to have him dicked down in that uniform 👀

again, love your works so much and take your time if you need to :) ❤️

GAHH had to make this into a halloween fic! i love that fanart so much this ask made me SO happy :)

Prove It

1987 • James/Jason

CW - semi public sex, toxic yaoi lmao, cross dressing, dubious consent kind of i don’t know, use of the F slur, internalized homophobia

Jason always looked forward to Halloween.

He’d dress in a fun costume, drink, maybe play a Halloween show if he was lucky. The Flotsam guys were even bigger on Halloween than he was and dragged him to countless costume parties with hookers hanging around; they’d give him a look, that look, and one of his bandmates would push Jason to go talk to a prostitute with a smirk.

“Cmon man, she’s like, totally your type! Blonde hair, blue eyes, looks like she could kill ya… go get ‘er!”

Yeah. It’s his type.

The girls were almost always wearing a sexy outfit. Skimpy, cheap clothes that accentuated their curves. The costumes were predictable— Sometimes a nurse. Sometimes a slutty witch who wants to trade her potions for your semen. Maybe a particularly naughty angel who decided maybe a little defiance would be good.

Or, a waitress.

Jason stares at himself in the mirror, regretting everything about this. He was still the Newkid, had to do everything the band told him. What James told him. So, when he was ordered to embarrass himself by wearing a very feminine, very revealing Waitress costume for the upcoming Halloween party, he obliged. Jason shuffled to the side to check the rest of his costume. Remembered how these costumes were made to show off ass and curves. It’s not a nice memory. His thighs seemed too muscular for the thin fabric of the light pink skirt, his chest and shoulders too broad and thick for the revealing top. Trying on costumes had been enjoyable in the past; now wearing his costume is the last thing he wants to do.

Jason’s eyebrows furrow as he continues to check himself out in the mirror. Maybe, he thinks, if he was a chick, there was a chance he would look good. But he’s not. No, he’s a guy in a fucking waitress costume too small for him just because James would get a kick out of it. Everyone else had a normal costume— a vampire, a werewolf, an imp. And, fuck, here he is. In a women’s skirt and top. In a shitty halloween store’s changing room where plastic decorations hang from the ceiling and walls. The painted on smiles of the plastic spiders don’t help Jason’s mood.

Jason sighs. He really doesn’t wanna do this. Surely there’s a way he can convince James to have mercy on him, right? Maybe he’d offer his personal stash of weed or Heineken. Embarrassed, Jason stops staring at his masculine figure in the mirror and takes a deep breath. James is on the other side of the dressing room, impatiently tapping his foot, and Jason assumes it’s because he wants to hurry up and get back to the guys.

“James? You’re.. really serious ‘bout this? Don’t wanna like, take my hash instead? This is stupid. Really fuckin’ stupid.”

Jason hears the other man grunt from the other side.

“What, too pussy? If you can’t even dress up in a stupid costume, why should I even keep you around?”

Well. Fuck.

“I- Fine. Whatever. I’m ready.”

A pause, then James is opening the door from the outside, not realizing how tantalizingly slow he’s going. Why did he do this again? To be honest, he wasn’t really thinking when he asked Jason to wear the costume. He was drunk. And, yeah. He’s usually drunk. Caught him there. But it was different. Jason was the one who brought costumes up in that stupid cheery voice, and you couldn’t blame James for wanting to mess with him. Not when he’s waiting for Jason to snap.

Here’s how it happened; the two were sitting in Jason’s room together with the steady beat of Electric Eye. Jason and James left all alone because Kirk and Lars wouldn’t do a damn thing without the other and Lars was tasked with getting the band more beer. Jason eyed James. James eyed Jason. Jason spoke up, blurting out a stupid question about Halloween, earning a groan from James. Like he wanted to make Jason believe talking to him was a chore. The conversation went on— if you count Jason sheepishly blabbering in hopes of entertaining James a conversation. It was when Jason mentioned those parties with his old band, Flotsam, that the blonde got an idea.

That’s when he asked Jason just how far he would go. Jason looked confused at first. The guitarist enlightened him. James asks the brunette what his problem is first, because of course he does, and follows it with something that made Jason determined.

“You always just take everything. All the pranks, all the jokes. When are you gonna snap at us, huh? When are you gonna snap at me? How far can you really take it? Prove to me you’re good enough.”

That’s how they ended up here. Jason showed him how much humiliation he can take by allowing James to lay eyes on him when he’s dressed like this. Because Jason is strong, Jason can take it. He can take all the shit James and the guys give him. In fact, he has to. So the bassist doesn’t hide when the door is finally opened all the way, only looking to the side, his cheeks dusted a light pink.

It hits James like a truck. He feels absolutely winded after he first takes the first look. The waitress skirt perfectly hugs his hips like it was specially tailored and crafted for Jason to give the guitarist a boner. His mouth goes dry, scanning the bassist up and down. The boy in front of him wasn’t supposed to look so damn perfect, the whole thing was supposed to be a joke. A stab at Jason, to see how far he’ll take it. To see if he’s good enough to be in Metallica. He is a replacement, after all. However, James would be lying if he said that replacement wasn’t making him short circuit. And James was also a dirty fuckin’ liar, because the waitress gag was more than just a gag to him.

“You. You, uh. You look stupid.”

There’s silence for a few moments. Then, Jason starts laughing. It throws James off, and he scrunches his eyebrows. The bassist giggles for a few moments longer before shaking his head.

“Is that all you have to say?”

James shifts uncomfortably and looks to the side. Walks in, closes the door behind him, then scowls. Like he didn’t just invite himself into an occupied dressing room like a freak. And he wasn’t! He swore. He only shut the door so no one else would see Jason like this. Which, fuck, wasn’t a great reason either, considering that’s the whole reason he’s forcing Jason to buy this stupid costume anyways. So people can see. And laugh. The only one that’s laughing is Jason, though, because he realized he’s got the big James Hetfield’s panties in a twist ‘cause of what was supposed to be a prank on him. Ironic.

“Don’t fucking laugh at me. Be grateful I’m closing the door so only I can see you. I should be the one laughing at you.”

Jason rolls his eyes. He’s not dumb enough to not pick up on what the situation is, though it is much different from what he expected. He really did expect James to laugh at him, to think he looked stupid. Instead he got that look, yes, that look, and a couple stuttered words when James stared at him like a dog staring at a treat. Jason’s no virgin. Maybe surprised, but he won’t let that show. What he does plan to show is dominance over this perverted blonde who was slowly getting closer to him.

“You look conflicted. Got something to say?”

Jason asks quietly, watching James get closer like a cartoon character floating to a pie. Pathetic, he thinks. He’s supposed to be the intimidating one and Jason’s got him hardening in his jeans from a simple costume like a homo. If you asked him, James was not a homosexual. He only liked girls. That was his justification for quickly hardening in his jeans at the sight of Jason. He looked like a girl, okay? That’s it. That’s the only reason.

But it wasn’t. Because James was inches away from the bassist, staring down at him with a hard on.

“I’m not- I’m not conflicted. Fuck are you trying to say?”

“Well.. I can see your boner through your jeans, but you’re trying to make yourself look like you’re mad. How’s that for a conflict?”

The blonde snarls. That was it. James shoves Jason against the back wall, rattling the little decorations in the dressing room. Jason yells with surprise and slight panic as he’s tossed against the wall like a ragdoll. Really hot once the initial surprise wears off, but he keeps that to himself. Jason’s chin is yanked up to look up at James’ flushed face. They meet eyes, the waitress boys’ gaze teasing and hungry while the guitarist’s is angry and lustful.

“I am not a fucking fag. Okay? I’m not. You- you just look like a woman, that’s IT. I don’t like guys. I don’t like you. I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

Instead of a reply, Jason forces his lips on James. Expecting resistance, he doesn’t go too hard— but, instead of being met with a punch to the gut, he feels the blonde hungrily reply by kissing him back like he’s been waiting for this moment for years. And, that’s not true. Because he’s only been waiting for months. Which is, like, significantly less gay. And this isn’t gay. Because right now Jason’s a just a slutty waitress. But, no matter how much James tells himself these things, they both know the truth. Thankfully, James’ worries melt away as they make out against the wall. Jason’s tongue finds its way into the blonde’s mouth and the taller boy whines, hands finding their way to Jason’s hips. It’s an ego boost feeling James fall apart in literal minutes all because of Jason. Jason did this to him. Made him straining against his jeans, begging to be inside the waitress boy. Made him shaky and whiny (to James’ dismay). He can’t think about that too long because everything’s happening so quickly—James’ hips start to rub against the bassists’ clothed dick as he nearly eats his face off with those sloppy kisses. It’s all teeth and spit as they dry hump each other, both sporting a full erection.

The kiss doesn’t last. James is pulling back, chest heaving, face red, and hard as a rock. His cock still rubs against the brunettes, and he can’t help but look at their strained cocks brushing against each other. Jason notices this and looks at the erotic scene too. He silently wonders if this costume will be ruined before he can even wear it for the party.

“If.. If you tell.. anyone about this.. I swear you’re a dead man..” James promises, trying to catch his breath and keep his desperate moans down at the same time.

“Won’t tell a soul.”

For some reason, that’s believable enough. ‘Cause James doesn’t miss a beat rubbing his length on Jason’s slightly shorter cock. Both are impressive. James thinks Jason’s is impressive. It’s got a pretty pink tip and girth that would make any girl drool— it’s too bad Jason’s using it on the Mighty Hetfield. Don’t ask James how he knows this. But, really, it is a beautiful cock, because all James can think about is how perfect and (probably) delicious it is as he ruts against Jason who is now leaning in to lick and suck at the blonde’s neck.

Shuddering, James’ grip on Jason becomes tighter as the tongue on his soft skin glides over him before picking a particularly sensitive spot and sucking. The bassist smirks against the taller boy’s neck as he sucks a hickey into the crook of James’ neck. Probably not a good look to have purplish marks all over your neck after you just walked out of a changing room with another man, but that was a worry for future James. He could always just say it was a vampire. And, ouch, Jason bites down on his flesh just like one, making James shiver and stutter. His hips trembled against the flushed cock below him and he bites his lip to hold back the moan that threatened to spill from his lips. It was already shameful enough he was doing this with another man, he doesn’t need the whole fucking store hearing it.

With a slick popping noise, Jason removes his tongue from his neck, leaving James dizzy. He stumbles back slightly, which he realizes is actually from Jason pushing him back to remove his skirt. The brunette’s fingers slowly push down that delicious pink skirt along with his boxers to reveal his weeping cock, and James swears he could’ve came right then.

“Don’t worry big boy, you can fuck me soon.”

Actually, he changes his mind. He could’ve cum to that. While he’s busy losing his goddamn mind, Jason’s fingers soak themselves in his wet mouth before dipping down to his hole, making sure James knows he’s teasing himself by circling his rim before dipping in. Jason makes a breathy noise as he works two fingers in and James can’t help but wonder if he’s starting with two because he’s done this before. His chest swells with jealously but he’s quickly distracted by realizing his hand made its way down to his cock to rub himself off while he watches his bandmate finger himself. He’s so goddamn horny his body’s doing shit on its own.

“‘S gonna feel so good, James. Just wait a- fuck- minute..”

James doesn’t respond. He can’t. His mouth feels like a desert. A third finger is added. When? It didn’t matter. James’ burning hot desire made everything feel like it was moving in both slow motion and high speed. Like he’s drunk, but really it’s just Jason making him feel like that. Because he can do that for some reason, which is really frustrating. It’s usually not very acceptable to fall for your bandmate, let alone fall for your male bandmate as a male.

But when Jason’s fucking himself on his fingers up against the wall, curls sticking to his forehead with sweat as he moans like a girl quietly in his very much girly costume, it’s different, okay? It’s different. Not, but Jason will have to get James to realize that a different time, because now he’s focused on getting James inside him and doesn’t really care if it’ll haunt both of them for the rest of their lives. James almost seems angry when Jason reaches to undo his jeans, like he’s trying to make himself angry so he’s not embarrassed. Typical James behavior. Typical James behavior is also fucking people till they break, which Jason is a little too excited for.

A position change and a few desperate kisses, and they’re back against the wall with James’ cock pressed against Jason’s hole. The guitarist twitches against the tight rim and he goes to bite his lip again, which does not go unnoticed. The bassist almost wants to laugh again at how badly James wants this.

“Desperate, huh?” Jason teases.

“Fuck you.”

“That’s a yes, isn’t it?”

“Shut up.”

Jason smiles lopsidedly, and James wants nothing more than to wipe it off his stupid, pretty face. So he grips Jason, white knuckling, and forces his hole down on his swollen cock, making them both groan. Jason’s eyes are wide as he’s stretched out and his legs shake and tremble . Hurts like a motherfucker, but damn, he knows it’ll be the best he’s had so far.

James doesn’t wait to prove that. He’s immediately ramming in and out of Jason, trying so desperately to hold back his embarrassingly girlish moans. It’s cute to Jason. He knows the poor guy is in the tightest hole he’s been in to date, because Jason knows himself, and he doesn’t know how to handle it. James can only tremble and watch his masculinity fade away as he’s being pleasured so immensely by a man, no, not a waitress, not a woman, no matter how much James wants to tell himself. James can’t control how fast he’s shoving himself in and out of Jason’s hole and the smaller boy almost feels bad— he’s really falling apart like a virgin. It almost reminds Jason of the first time he touched himself to a man. Except teenager Jason was exploring hormonal wants and James is fucking the prettiest guy around.

The bassist brings his hand up to the blonde’s face to gently caress it, the juxtaposition between the gentle touch and the rough sex below almost hilarious. His grayish eyes look into James’ blue ones, and he sees how vulnerable the boy is. He may be the one in Jason, but Jason’s done this before. With the Flotsam guys. With groupies. It’s not new. This is new to James because he’s denied himself for so long, and despite how awful James has treated the brunette, he feels the need to make the best for him.

“You’re doin’ so good- mmghh-, so good for giving in for me. Good boy, good boy-“ The bassist praises, tightening around him.

“S-stop-“

Jason pants, being cut off by a particularly hard thrust to his prostate. He seizes up, panicking, realizing he’s gonna cum. He’s gonna cum all over this costume he hasn’t bought and, well, it’s gonna be hot as fuck. James must’ve realized he’s gonna cum too, because he speeds up and goes even harder if that was possible. Jason cries out softly, trying to grab on to James as he feels his climax approaching. The humping the fingering, the fuck— it’s all gonna come crashing down into a brain numbing orgasm.

And that’s what happens when James stutters his hips and spills into him with no warning. Jason tenses, legs shaking and eyes watering, cum spurting out of him in thick ropes. It’s almost embarrassing how much he cums, and, James didn’t even bother to touch his cock. So why is he coming like a bitch in heat? And, funnily enough, James still isn’t convinced he’s gay despite cumming in another man’s ass. And liking it.

The two ride out their orgasms and catch their breath, thoughts spinning in their head. Am I gay now? What does this make us? Can we do that again? Did I seriously just cum in 5 minutes? The various hickeys become forgotten.

Questions left unanswered, because all that really matters is that Jason proved himself.

“…I still hate you, Newkid.”

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

some sketches on this mini sketchbook I think I'm having an artblock fml

i WILL get him pregnant mark my words

waitress jason inspired by all those crazy waitress bits james and jason had. ok bye.

𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄/𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 - 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤

warnings: none! just pure fluff!

i should make a part 2 to this w smut but idk… anyways enjoy!

Dave’s been eyeing Metallica’s new bassist—a cheery, expressive guy that has a smile that could end wars. The guy’s not only got amazing talent on the bass, but he’s got looks that kill, too. In fact, that’s the whole reason why he’d been keeping tabs on the auburnette.

Dave had reached out to a mutual friend, Jacob, asking for Jason’s number under the pretext that he’d forgotten it when Jason “gave it to him” a few days ago. The guy was baited on and easily handed over Jason’s number. 

Now the hardest part came. 

Calling Jason up. 

The phone rings once. Twice. And then he’s sent to voicemail. “Hey, it’s Jason. I’m busy right now, leave a message after the beep!” Jason’s usual upbeat tone evident in the message. After the beep, Dave tapped his finger against the leather sofa, beginning to speak. 

“Hey, uhh…it’s Dave Mustaine. Call me back when you’re free. I wanna talk.”

And then he puts down the phone, nervous and standing, pacing the room eagerly as he waits. His plan was simple. Talk, invite Jason out, sugar him up and invite him into his bed. He speculated that Jason was into guys—the way he went starry-eyed when a pretty guy gave him an ounce of attention, even when they’re just fans.

His blue eyes would light up, attentive and fixated. Scanning for details, carefully tucked into the confines of his mind. He’d nod and smile and sign their merch, before he’d be forced to move on to the next fan. 

“Jason’s gonna call back,” Dave muttered, a hint of nervous anticipation lacing his tone as he paced back and forth across the room. The leather couch creaked slightly under the weight of his restless pacing, and he ran a hand through his hair, already imagining the possibilities of the upcoming conversation.

“He’s gotta call back. He just has to.”

He paused to glance at the phone sitting innocently on the wall, as if staring at it would somehow summon a call from Jason. But the phone remained silent, taunting him with its lack of sound.

Minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an hour as Dave continued his restless pacing. His heart was fluttering erratically, betraying his anxiety as he repeatedly checked the phone for any sign of a missed call.

"He’s taking his sweet time," Dave muttered, a mixture of impatience and worry coloring his tone. 

He resumed his pacing, the sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floor blending with the faint hum of the air conditioner and adding to the growing tension in the room. Each passing moment seemed to amplify his unease.

A hundred seconds pass by like a hundred seasons, waiting for something, anything, from that pretty little bassist that he’s so enraptured by. And he’s so sure god is real now, because his phone rings, and Jason’s on the other line. 

“Hey man, it’s Jason. I’m surprised you called me. You wanted to talk?” Dave’s heart flutters at Jason’s soft tone, not as spunky and energetic as before. 

“Hey. Thanks for calling back. Um…I was wondering if you’d like to go to a bar with me and Jacob? Have some drinks and whatever.” That’s a lie—Jacob’s not coming and Dave’ll make sure of it. He squeezes his eyes shut as the call goes silent. He’ll become a monk, he swears, if Jason says yes. 

“Uh..yeah, sure. When?” The ginger nearly let out a victory cheer, but he reminds him that Jason’s on the other line. 

“10?” He offers, and Jason happily snatches up the bait. “Okay, sounds good! See you then.”

When the line cuts Dave drops the phone and lets out the loudest shout of excitement he’s ever made. 10PM seems too far away, but the reward he’ll get outweighs the hours of wait.

Jason, meanwhile, is happily humming to himself as he works on his bass lines, unaware of Dave’s plan. While he does think Dave’s a pretty guy, very eye-catching, what would he do with a guy like him? He’s far too plain for someone like Dave, they’re opposite ends of the spectrum! 

So he shoves his thoughts down and reminds himself it’s just a friendly meeting with a mutual friend and Dave. It’s just drinking with someone you barely know. Easy, right?

Jason finds it’s not so easy when he enters the bar, a knot in his throat as he scans the room for Jacob’s signature blonde mullet. He doesn’t see him, but spots a fiery mane of curls by a booth, and a somewhat familiar face to match. 

He saunters over, heart beating a mile a minute as he sits across from Dave. Maybe Jacob was just late. Hopefully he wasn’t left alone with Dave. He always liked to take his time, that man…

Dave can feel his heart stutter in his ribcage as he sees Jason waltz over, his auburn curls bouncing with each step, springy coils so full of life.

“Hey, Dave.” It’s so much more awkward to speak face to face with him than over the phone.

Dave looked up from his drink as Jason approached, a smile spreading across his face as he watched the younger man's curls bouncing with every movement.

"Hey, Jason."

Dave returned the greeting, his fingers drumming anxiously against the tabletop. He could feel the tension in the air thicken between them, making the conversation feel more difficult than it should have been. He took a small sip of his drink, trying to appear casual.

"I'm glad you could come."

“Good to see you. Where’s Jacob?”

Dave's smile faded slightly as Jason inquired about Jacob's whereabouts. He'd been expecting this question, of course. He shifted in his seat, feigning casualness.

"Jacob couldn’t make it tonight," he said, taking another small sip of his drink to buy himself time to think. "He got caught up with some things. But I didn't want to cancel on you so I figured we could hang out anyway."

Jason’s peachy lips form a frown, but it’s gone the next second. “It’s fine. Just don’t have any conversation starters, haha…” 

This is so awkward..

Dave chuckled softly at Jason's comment, trying to ease the tension. 

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Sometimes conversations just happen and sometimes..." he trailed off, pausing to run a hand through his hair. "Sometimes they don't."

The sound of chatter and clinking glasses fill the momentary pause, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Dave clears his throat, his eyes scanning over Jason's features, taking in the way the dim light casts shadows across his face and how his hair looks almost luminous.

Dave's fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt as he gathers his thoughts, trying to think of something, anything, to say. 

"So...um, how's the new gig with Metallica going?" he finally blurts out, his eyes fixed on the table in front of them. It's a generic question and a boring one at that, but it's the only thing he can think of at the moment.

“It’s good..in certain aspects.” Jason’s silvery blue eyes look down at his hands, and Dave can tell there’s something that’s wrong.

Dave notices the change in Jason's demeanor, sensing that there's something on the younger man's mind. He tilts his head slightly, his expression turning serious.

"What do you mean, in certain aspects?" he asks gently, hoping to encourage Jason to open up even slightly.

“The guys are…not the nicest.” He scratches his nape awkwardly, still unwilling to make eye contact with Dave. Dave knew the Metallica guys were douches, but to someone as nice as Jason?

Dave's eyebrows furrow at Jason's confession. He was aware of Lars and James not being nice to the bassist after Cliff’s passing, but still, hearing that they were treating someone as sweet as Jason badly stirred up a mixture of anger and protectiveness within him.

"They're giving you trouble?" he asked, his tone sharp. He reached forward, gently placing a hand on Jason's wrist in a comforting gesture.

Jason’s heart jumps, but his face remains passive. He’s sure his pale cheeks are reddening, and for the first time since he sat down, they lock eyes. Dave’s hazel eyes are deep and inviting, and he just wants to fall into their warmth forever.

“It’s nothing bad. Just some pranks, trashing my hotel room and whatever.”

Dave's gaze softened as he met Jason's eyes, noticing the way the younger man's cheeks were flushed. He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of satisfaction at the small victory.

"Pranks? That sounds like them," Dave muttered, a hint of disdain in his tone. He gently squeezed Jason's wrist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against the man’s skin.

"You shouldn’t have to deal with that bullshit. It's not right."

He relishes as Jason flushed further, his lips pouty in a frozen quiver, and he’s sure Jason interested in him. Otherwise, he’d have pulled his hand away, right?

Dave notices the way Jason's lips pout, his expression almost vulnerable, and it only amplifies his earlier determination to get the man in his bed. He leans forward, his hand on Jason's wrist shifting to a more intimate position, loosely gripping the man’s hand instead.

"Jason...I know this might sound cheesy, but...you deserve better than the bullshit they're putting you through. You're good. Too good to be treated like crap like that."

Jason laughs nervously, keeping his hand under Dave’s warm palm. His cheeks get redder and redder, and the ginger can’t help but watch how pretty he looks, even when all flustered. “It’s not a big deal—”

Dave cuts him off gently, his eyes fixed intently on the man's face. The sight of a flustered Jason is captivating, and Dave finds himself wishing he could make him even more red.

"Yes, it is. They shouldn’t be treating you like that. It's unacceptable." He leans even further forward, his free hand reaching up to brush stray curls away from Jason's face, his touch soft and gentle.

The hitch in Jason’s breath is audible and the bassist is sure Dave isn’t doing this out of friendliness. No friend would tuck hair behind his ear with such genuine affection. No way.

Dave is fully aware that his affection is beyond the realm of simple friendship. He studies Jason's reaction, noticing the hitch in the younger man's breath and the way he swallows hard. It fuels his determination to get the bassist alone.

He continues to lightly caress Jason’s curls, the soft strands of hair slipping through his fingers like silk. His thumb then moves to brush against Jason's cheek, a feather-like touch, barely there but deliberate and intimate.

Jason’s hypnotised by Dave, everything in the background fading out like it was some cheesy romance movie. But he swears there’s a spark between them because Dave’s eyes have such a genuine look of affection.

Dave is fully immersed in the moment as well. Every little reaction of Jason's is like a drug, fueling his growing sense of infatuation with the bassist. The dim lights of the bar cast a romantic glow over them both, as if the outside world doesn’t exist anymore.

"You're beautiful," Dave mutters as his thumb traces over Jason's lower lip, watching the way the man's lashes flutter in response.

“Thanks.” The auburnette says breathily, his face a tomato. 

Dave can’t help but smile as he watches Jason’s face flush an even deeper shade of scarlet. The sight is both adorable and seductive, and Dave finds himself wanting to see how flustered he can make him.

He doesn’t remove his hand from the man’s face, instead continuing to caress his skin gently. “You don’t hear that enough, do you?” he asks, his voice a low murmur.

He laughs, eyes crinkling as his signature smile spreads across his lips. His curls bounce as he tilts his head “Not as much as I’d like to.” 

Dave's heart flutters at the sound of Jason's laughter and the sight of his smile. He can't help but be enamored with the way the man's locks move with his movement, adding to his unassuming boyish charm. 

"That's a crime in my opinion." Dave replies, his tone a mix of playful and serious. "Such a pretty thing like you should be showered in compliments every day." His thumb drifts from Jason's cheek to lightly brush over his lip again, the action subtle and sensual.

“I wouldn’t mind if they came from you.” The bassist teases, emboldened by their mutual attraction.

The corner of Dave’s lips twitch as he hears Jason's words, the man's confident response pleasantly surprising him. He didn’t expect such a straightforward answer, but he’s certainly enjoying it.

"Oh yeah?” he purrs, leaning in slightly. His hazel eyes are fixed on Jason’s face, watching his every move. His hand moves down to the man’s neck, his thumb grazing over the sensitive skin there. "You’d let me shower you with compliments, pretty boy? You know, you should let me take you home instead."

“I think both would suffice..” He offers, and Jason feels like a teenager all over again, falling in love with this handsome ginger who’s somehow the first person to call him pretty.

A sly smile graces Dave’s lips at Jason’s words, the ginger’s confidence only increasing further. He’s enjoying this newfound flirtation, and the way Jason’s responding is exactly what he’d hoped for.

“Now, look at you, being all cheeky.” he mutters, his hand moving from the man’s neck to ghost over his shoulder, the skin there so warm and so inviting. “I like that.” 

He leans in even closer, his voice low and sultry. “You’d let me take you to my place then?”

“If you insist.”

A sly smile plays on Dave’s lips as Jason agrees, the hint of submission in his voice only serving to arouse Dave further. He moves his free hand to rest on the man’s thigh, his fingers lightly gripping the denim-covered muscle, giving a light squeeze.

“Let’s get out of here yeah?” He suggests, his gaze not leaving Jason’s flushed face. 

“My place isn’t far from here.”

i WILL get him pregnant mark my words

flotsam & jetsam era Jason lives in my head rent free if you even care