𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐑/𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄 - 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

warnings: blindfolds, bondage, anal sex, begging kink, no prep

nsfw under the cut :)

A pair of cold hands caress the contours of Dave’s form. Goosebumps follow in their wake, his muscles shuddering. The hands are calloused and rough against Dave’s soft skin, and he exhaled softly. The heavy breath against his neck was a contrast to the hands, warm and gentle as a mother’s caress.

He’s got his hands bound to the bedframe with some sort of soft material, his vision hindered by a blindfold. He has no choice to put complete trust in Junior, who seems to relish that. His lips brush gently against Dave’s ear, hands roaming his body adoringly. He traces Dave’s shape, outlining his abs and v-line.

Junior’s breath ghosts from his neck, trailing down and down and down until the warmth right against Dave’s hardened length. He shifts, biting down on his lower lip.

Junior doesn’t speak—Dave doesn’t think he will. Junior wanted to keep Dave in the dark, keep him from knowing his next move, keep him on the edge. It stirred something more primal in him, got his cock achingly hard.

Dave can only listen to the soft shuffling around in the room; there’s a tap on his hip, a sign for him to lift them. He does, and a pillow is placed under them. Strong hands part is thighs and hold onto his hips, Junior’s breath ghosting over his hole. He knows what’s coming, and his breath hitches.

Junior decided that he couldn’t just immediately go and please Dave, the way the ginger was so accustomed to. No, he wanted to draw this out. Take his time until Dave was begging for it, till his name was the only thing left spilling out of his mouth.

Dave can feel Junior lick a stripe across his inner thigh, cool against his warm skin. Junior takes a second to look at Dave, spread out on the bed, completely naked and helpless. His cheeks flush and he takes a deep breath to control himself.

“Junior..” Dave drawls, Junior reaches for the bedside table, grabbing a bottle of lube and squirting a generous amount on his palm. Junior lets the lube warm up for a second on his hand before reaching for one of Dave’s legs, spreading it to the side. Dave whines in anticipation, struggling against the confines of his handcuffs.

Junior looks at the ginger’s face, taking in all the emotions it expresses: impatience, eagerness, and anticipation, among other things. He starts to spread lube over Dave’s entrance, being careful and making sure it’s thoroughly lubed before he decides to do anything else. When he’s satisfied, he uses his other hand to spread the one he’d been using to lube Dave, spreading the ginger’s legs give himself a better view.

Dave squirms on the bed, and Junior thinks it’s a good time to have his leg cuffs bound to the bedframe as well. He reaches down and grabs the leather leg cuffs as well, fastening them to the bed frame. Dave is now spread completely open and immobile, at his mercy. Junior takes a step back and looks at Dave, admiring how good he looks like this.

He takes a second to take a deep breath in. The sight in front of him really is a sight to behold. Dave, spread out and helpless on the bed, desperate to be touched. He could get used to this.

Junior takes another minute to look over every part of Dave’s body, committing the image to memory for when they’re not together. When he’s satisfied, he moves back toward the bed and settles between Dave’s legs.

He looks up at Dave, taking in his face for a moment before he uses his hands to spread Dave’s legs further apart. Dave can only lay there and take it while Junior takes in the sight and adjusts himself so that he’s as close to him as he can manage.

He looks down at his own clothed body, and decides that something has to be done about that. He slides off the bed and quickly removes his own clothes, leaving them in a messy pile with Dave’s on the floor.

He gets back onto the bed and positions himself comfortably between Dave’s legs. When everything’s all settled, he looks up at him, looking at the blindfold. He can’t get enough of how Dave looks like this: helpless and at his mercy.

He reaches up to the blindfold and grips it in his hands. He looks at Dave’s face and thinks about taking it off, seeing the look in his eyes. But he decides to leave it on for now, knowing that it’ll drive the redhead even more crazy.

He looks at Dave and runs his hands up his stomach and chest. Dave has a surprisingly smooth and toned stomach. For someone who drinks as often as he does, he takes care of his body pretty well.

Junior continues to run his hands over Dave’s body, appreciating all of it. He’s already familiar with quite a lot of it from previous “sessions” together, but he can’t get enough of it. He’s got it all and it’s all spread out right in front of him, and he can’t help but admire it.

It’s a power trip, really. Having Dave like this right in front of him, all bound and unable to do anything unless Junior allows it. He’s completely at his mercy, and he knows it.

“Junior, please…” He notices how desperate Dave is getting, how much he wants to say something but can’t. It’s fun to tease him like this, but he himself is losing his self control too just by looking at Dave.

“Baby..” Dave pleads pathetically, pulling against the handcuffs. The pet name causes Junior to lose his last shred of self-control. He positions himself at Dave’s entrance and takes a deep breath in to try to calm himself down. He couldn’t be excited like he was a teenager again, no, he had to be calm.

“Give it to me already, don’t make me wait.” The ginger is starting to get impatient, and he knows it was only a matter of time before he starting speaking his mind. He’s begging. And that just turns Junior on even more.

He slowly pushes his way into Dave without prep, and the moan that comes from the ginger’s mouth is like music to Junior’s ears. He takes a second to let himself adjust around his thickness before he fully pushes in, enjoying the way Dave twitches, his fingers curling and uncurling. “Shit…shit, oh fuck..”

Junior slowly begins to move his hips, watching the way Dave responds to every movement. His breathing becomes shallow and he whimpers, and if Junior wasn’t already achingly hard, he sure would’ve been now.

He continues pushing himself in and out of Dave, enjoying the way the ginger is clenching around him, and the way the ginger looks, so desperate, but unable to do anything. It’s a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure.

Junior glances at Dave, taking in the facial expression he has right now. His eyebrows are creased, his mouth open, and his head thrown back. He takes a second to take a deep breath, collecting himself.

“God, baby—you’re so big…” Dave praises, and it goes straight to Junior’s loins. The sight and sounds the guitarist were making is almost too much to bear. Junior knows he won’t last long if he keeps this up, but he doesn’t mind. He’s not going to be the one dealing with the aftermath.

He decides to change pace, stopping and pulls himself completely out before slamming back into the ginger. Dave keens, his head thrown back around the pillows with his red hair spread around like a golden halo of fire.

Junior moans, the sound of Dave crying out making him even more aroused, if that’s even possible. He likes it when Dave doesn’t have any words left to say, when all he can do is make little sounds and try to find something to say, but failing.

“Fuuuck—“, He keeps up this fast and rough pace, unable to hold back any of his moans any longer. Dave is starting to whimper even more, and that’s not helping things.

Junior loves the way Dave is falling apart beneath him. He loves the way his words are starting to fail him, the way he can’t use them to ask for what he wants. Instead, he’s resorted to making sounds, words not even forming on his tongue at this point.

“Oh, shit—baby please…I’m gonna-“ Junior knows Dave’s on the edge, begging for something. Anything. Anything that would push him over the edge. It’s kind of adorable, how hard the ginger’s trying to hold back. Even his voice is all broken up and everything.

He notices how close Dave is getting: his words are all broken up, the way his body is squirming to try and get more, the desperate look on his face even though his eyes are blindfolded. He keeps his pace steady. Not too fast, but slow enough to keep Dave on the edge.

“Not yet you’re not, not until you ask nicely.”

Dave bites his lip. “Please, cmon, give it to me, baby—!” Junior smiles down at Dave. He loves how desperate the ginger is right now, just wanting to get off so badly.

“Say it again. Plead.” He drawls.

“Pleasepleaseplease—Junior..!”

The sound of Dave practically sobbing out his pleas sends a shiver down Junior’ s spine. He’s going to give Dave what he wants, but not just yet. He’s so close, he wants to give in, but the allure of hearing him plead for release is too tantalising.

“One last time. Ask me nicely.”

“Please.”

He smirks, knowing that’s as nice of a “please” as he’s going to get from Dave at this point. Junior picks up his pace, determined to make the ginger come. He’s on the edge himself, but focused on the man right in front of him.

“I’m gonna come!”

“Come for me, sweetheart.”

The words are out of Junior’s mouth before he really thinks about them, but Dave listening to his command is such a turn on he doesn’t really care. Dave squeezes tight around him, spurts of come striping his chest white.

He can hear Dave moaning out his name as he finally comes, and the sound is enough to cause Junior’s own orgasm to hit him like a wave. His pace falters before pausing as he rides out his own orgasm, hips stilling. He rests his hands on the mattress, leaning forward.

“Fuck…that was good.” Dave breathes, the blindfold has smatters of wet spots—tears.

Junior pants, the building strain in his muscles ebbing away.

“Let’s go again.” Dave whispers. Junior laughs breathlessly.

“If that’s what you want..” He grins, a glint in his eye.

Tags

dave mustaine megadeth david ellefson megadeth smut n3wstxd

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.”

Tags

metallica dave mustaine megadeth jason newsted n3wstxd

25 notes View Post

n3wstxd

8 months ago

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.

“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.

Tags

metallica james hetfield jason newsted metallica smut n3wstxd

21 notes View Post

n3wstxd

6 months ago

okay im posting the rest of it after all.

205 notes View Post

n3wstxd

8 months ago

𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍/𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 - 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

warnings: drug usage, non-consensual somnophilia, dream sex, wet dream(s), blow job(s), (implied) incubus James Hetfield

nsfw under the cut :)

Jason smoked pot. It was his way to unwind and relax after a good show and having dealt with his bandmates’ bullshit.

He stubbed the finished blunt out, sleep clawing at his eyelids and dragging them down with the force of a thousand weights. Sleep always came easy to him after a good blunt. That night was no different, and he laid down to rest and recharge for the next day’s shitshow.

His dreams were strange, all a mess of colours and strange figures—nothing was fixed and nothing was recognisable. Until the view of a bunch of blonde curls flash past, and they’re the same dirty dishwater blonde as James’. What was he doing in his dream? He almost never dreamt of his bandmates, least of all the big bad Hetfield.

But now everything’s shifting and he’s in a bedroom, laying on his bed like he was at that moment, reality and dream blurring and bleeding out into one. The bed dips and Jason looks over. He blinks and James’ large and sweaty figure is loomed over him, big hands pinned to the bed on either side of his head.

“James?” He asks. James smiles down at him. Not viciously like he was used to, but sincerely. It was almost unnerving, if not for Jason’s cheeks getting hot. A large paw trails up his thigh, grabbing at the little fat he had on it. Still grinning down with intent.

“What’re you..” This wasn’t like James. James was a homophobe, and yet he was teasing Jason, tracing his V-line and his ab line. James doesn’t say anything. Maybe he’s too scared to, or maybe he doesn’t bother enough. And when Jason blinks again, his pants are gone, and James’ head rests over his bare cock.

“Don’t..” his voice sounds like it’s underwater. He can barely hear himself, his resolve weak.

James lets his hands roam, touching and prodding and pinching at any part of Jason that would garner a reaction. He tweaked a nipple—Jason yelped. Grazed his inner thigh to make him squirm, rubbed and prodded at his perineum and had him moan. He know was working quickly to an erection, how embarrassing. James somehow knew each of his weak spots like a lover that had memorised his body like the back of his hand.

Jason looks down, and James opens his mouth pliantly, taking half of Jason’s cock in one go like he had years of practice. The sensation and warm slickness of James’ mouth was mind-spinningly good to Jason. James seemed so eager to please, locking eyes with Jason while his head bobbed up and down, spit pooling around his lips.

Was this real? Was James Hetfield blowing him of all people? It couldn’t be…he’d more likely die than that happening—snapped out of his thoughts when James’ hand reaches to cup his balls, caressing them gently with a calloused hand. Jason choked on his saliva as James fondled him, his thighs flexing, body pulled taut.

Jason’s lungs felt like fire, the air was thick. His mind was fuzzy and everything felt so overwhelming. The cotton of the sheets rubbing against his skin, the sweat gliding down his back and James’ rhythmic nosing of his pubes. The vibrations from James’ soft gums had Jason bucking up into his mouth in desperation.

The pressure building in his loins clawed at him, James’ hand moved to rub at his perineum and ghost over his rim. James hummed around him and bursts of pleasure tickled his spine, seizing up into an arch. His hand entangled in the blonde’s hair and pulled. James looked up at him through his darker lashes, eyes ever so slightly teary despite his smile.

James’ grip on his hips were bruisingly tight, holding him in place while Jason’s cock rammed to the back of his throat. What was surprising to the older man was how James didn’t even choke once, any gag reflex he had was thrown out the window.

When the aching in his belly boiled to its peak, his balls drew tight and he fisted James’ waves in one hand, sheets in the other, body arching off the bed. “James—!” His voice sounds like it came from all around the room, like he was hearing himself through a speaker, voice so close yet so far. His eyes flicker downwards—the younger man’s throat was like a vice, milking every last drop from him.

When he pulls away, he wipes the come and drool from his mouth. Jason follows James’ blurred movements like he was watching him in slow-mo. Kisses are smattered over his face, but he can’t feel it. He couldn’t feel James’ hands on his body, but he’d like to think they were warm.

Jason feels weak, feels like his life had been sucked out as well by James. And the man looks glowing. Like an extraterrestrial being. He basks in the glow of this blonde-haired man, lying limp and far too tired to move.

His eyes flutter shut, and when he shakily reopens them, he finds himself back in the darkness of his room, dimly lit by the moonlight peeking through his curtains. His boxers feel cold, and that’s when he sits up to inspect himself.

Yup, he came in his boxers from a wet dream about James.

Dragging his leaden limbs off the bed, he switches on the bathroom light and fills the sink to soak his dirtied drawls. As he inspects himself in the mirror, he notices how he looks paler than normal—and the James-sized handprints on his hips, reddish purple.

That had to have been a dream…

..right?

Meanwhile, James hums satisfactorily in his own hotel room. He’d recharged well from the delightful meal that was Jason. Hearing him moan so sweetly was like heaven’s music to his ears. And he could still taste the slightly fragrant flavour of Jason’s spend on his tongue.

He’d have to go back for seconds soon.

Tags

metallica james hetfield jason newsted metallica smut n3wstxd

13 notes View Post

n3wstxd

6 months ago

thanks for the tag @madamsixx

mary jane - megadeth

tagging: @h3ll0k1ttyl0v3rrr @dethtallica @thenaughtynun @ju1ian @ride-the-hammett @hiamnoal