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kirk-says-wah · 1 month

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45 with Dave and James. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Thank you again for the ask!! 💕

Send me a number and a pairing and I’ll write a little something

45 - Ownership/claiming/marking

Dave slaps James’s ass, a handprints bruising the sensitive flesh, and James cries out, gagging around the thick cock in his mouth.

“Tell me, James,” Dave says, voice taunting, pulling his cock out from the depths of James’s throat. “Who do you belong to?”

James doesn’t answer, drool starting to puddle on his knees where it hangs from his mouth, lips still spread wide, ready for Dave to plough into him.

Dave grunts, yanks on James’s hair until he’s standing up before pushing him onto the bed. James goes willingly, automatically getting on his back, but Dave just tuts, smacking at his thigh.

James jolts, a whine clogging in his throat.

“Hands and knees,” Dave says, voice hard.

James nods, quickly getting onto his hands and knees, elbows shaking trying to keep his weight up.

Dave smirks, trails his cock between James’s cheeks, sliding it up the crack of his ass.

“I said, who do you belong to?”

James still doesn’t answer, too caught up with the feeling of Dave’s cock pressed against his hole.

Dave doesn’t like being ignored though, and he pulls away. James whines, and Dave grabs his throat, pulling him back onto his knees so that his back hits Dave’s chest.

“Huh, James?” Dave sneers, moving his other hand to take a hold of James’s cock.

“Who does this cock belong to?”

James bucks in his grip, and so Dave pinches the tip of his cock, causing him to cry out.

“Answer me.”

“Yours,” James finally snivels, eyes wet, Dave’s hand still around his throat. “I’m yours.”

Dave grunts, leaning down to suck a deep bruise into the side of James’s neck, knowing full well everyone will be able to see it when he’s done. But he wants people to know. He wants people to know that James belongs to him and only him.

James’s eyes roll back, hips jolting up into Dave’s grip and Dave finally pushes him back down onto his hands and knees.

“You’re mine,” he says, teeth pulling on James’s earlobe. James shudders in his grip, and Dave holds on tighter.

#metallica #metallica fanfiction #asks #smut #metallica smut #metallica fic #megadeth #dave mustaine smut #dave mustaine #james hetfield x dave mustaine #james hetfield smut #james hetfield/dave mustaine #james/dave #james hetfield

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kirk-says-wah · 1 month

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𝐃𝐢𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟗

Pairings: Kirk/Lars, James/Dave

Tw: torture, murder, blood, gore, violence, kidnapping, drugging, cannibalism

You can also read it here

“I’m tired,” Kirk says, yawning, leaning up against the table. He’s got a knife flicking around between his fingers as usual.

Lars looks up from where he’d been typing on the computer.

“Yeah me too,” he says, stretching a little.

“Why don’t we both get some sleep?” Kirk asks, unsure whether he’s asking the right question or not. He just missed sleeping next to Lars, it’s been days.

Lars looks between him and Dave.

Dave is passed out, head hanging limply, jaw touching his chest. He obviously won’t wake for a while.

“I guess,” Lars says, moving to pause the stream. “Do you think he’ll wake up?”

“If he does it’s not like he can go anywhere,” Kirk says, which yeah is true because not only are his hands nailed down, but his knees are practically in pieces.

Lars just hums before yawing, beckoning Kirk up the stairs.

They make their way up in silence, and shut off the lights as they make their way up stairs.

Neither of them can be bothered to shower away the blood caked on them, and instead just shed their clothes so they’re in nothing but their boxers before climbing into bed.

Lars pulls Kirk against him, and Kirk sighs, resting his cheek on his sternum.

“I missed you,” he says.

Lars gives a confused noise, squeezing him softly.

“I’ve been right here the whole time.”

But they’ve not been like this in days. Kirk’s not felt loved in days. He misses Lars when he’s like this, when he’s soft and warm and will kiss him because he wants to, not because he wants to get anything out of it.

Kirk doesn’t reply, just folds an arm around Lars’s waist, slotting their legs together.

Lars presses a kiss to his hair before turning out the lamp, the both of them settling down, finally drifting off into a much needed sleep.

— —

“What are you saying?”

James isn’t entirely sure what he’s saying. He just knows his gut is telling him Kirk and Lars are involved. He needs to find out how, he has to, for Dave’s sake.

He wonders what could be possibly going on. Maybe they’re working for someone? Maybe they’re giving people new identities so that they can go missing?

Theres so many possibilities, he’s just anxious to find out which of them is true.

“I’m saying I think they’re involved.”

“So they look like the two men the bartender saw, that doesn’t mean anything,” Cliff says, trying to keep level headed about this.

James sighs, rubs at his temple, phone held close to his ear.

“They’re hiding something. I know them too well.”

Cliff goes silent, and James doesn’t know what else to say. He just knows something’s wrong.

“I don’t get off work for another few hours. We can check it out then.”

James considers that, but he knows he can’t wait that long.

When he doesn’t answer, Cliff pipes up.

“You’re not gonna do anything stupid are you?”

James just sighs because Cliff’s not gonna like him going in there alone. But it’s not like his friends will hurt him. They won’t.

“I’ll text you the address. Just get here as soon as you can.”

“James, I think you might be underestimating this situation.”

“They’re my friends, Cliff,” James pleads, tries to rationalise what he’s about to do next.

Cliff just sighs, sounding tinny down the phone.

“Look, I’ll get there as soon as I clock off. Try to wait for me, yeah?”

James exhales, eyes trailing over to the house.

The lights are still on. There’s still movement.

“Fine.”

He hangs up, presses his phone to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut.

He really shouldn’t be doing this, but the need to find answers is just too high, has him feeling anxious and uneasy.

He’s not left his car since earlier, just parked it up the street a bit. He can just about see Lars and Kirk’s house, but he knows unless they’re looking they won’t see him.

It’s about an hour later when the house finally goes dark. It’s about 11 o’clock, and James waits a while before gingerly opening the door, does his best not to slam it shut.

He locks the car quickly before shuffling over to the house, hunkering down under the front window, the peeling paint brushing against his shirt.

He takes a deep breath before peeking in.

It’s completely dark, no sign of life, and even when he squints he can tell they must have gone to bed.

Now’s his chance.

If he knows Kirk and Lars well enough, he knows they always keep a spare key out here in case they get locked out.

He feels around, checks under the plant pots and the doormat before finally finding one by the bins, seeing it twinkle under the moonlight.

He thanks god and quietly unlocks the door, every movement deliberate and silent.

The house is quiet. James manages to shut the door without fuss, but he stays still for a moment, just listening out.

When there’s no sign of movement, he pulls his phone out, puts the torch on.

The house looks just the same as it did the last time he came; empty mugs on the coffee table, magazines strewn about.

He shuffles through a pile of papers by the tv but finds nothing of use, so continues into the kitchen, footsteps light and slow. Nothing looks unordinary.

His heart pounds in his chest, though he’s not sure if it’s from adrenaline or fear. No, he’s not scared. These are his friends.

The coffee machine sits lifeless on the countertop, the leftovers of their dinner still sat on the stove.

He opens a few drawers just to find some cutlery and a few letters, but nothing really tells him anything he wants to know. He’s hoping to see Dave’s face somewhere, a name, a photograph; anything.

He doesn’t know why, but he opens the fridge, just to have a look. His eyes take a moment to process what he’s seeing until he zeroes in on the jar stacked in the middle and he gasps, jaw hanging open.

He wants to throw up.

There’s jars of what looks like blood and some other bodily fluids, and he quickly shuts the door will a dull thud, bile rising, stinging the back of his throat.

What the fuck. What the actual fuck.

He needs to get out of here. Something’s definitely wrong.

He heads back into the dining room, finds a pile of washing on one of the chairs, and a bundled cloth on the table.

The air has a musky smell, almost like he can taste the dirt, and he lifts up the cloth to see fingers.

Human fingers.

He recoils, pushing himself away with a hiccup, too dumbstruck to realise what’s going on here.

He needs to leave.

He quickly makes his way back towards the front door, ears pricked for any sign of movement, when all of a sudden there’s a sound from behind one of the doors.

The basement.

It’s sounded like a whimper, like a cry of pain, and James’s gut twists.

He shouldn’t go down there. Who knows what other fucked up things they have. He pauses though, phone still in his grip, wavering back and forth on his feet.

He might not get another chance like this again. He needs to do this. For Dave.

He slowly turns the knob, opening the door before shutting it behind him. There’s a dim light coming from down the stairs, around the corner.

Heavy breathing. That’s all James can hear. He almost doesn’t go down, nearly throws the plan out of the window and books it.

But then there’s another whimper, distinctly clear now, and he knows who it is. He knows that voice.

His heart is in his lungs as he slows descends the steps before finally rounding the corner, seeing familiar red hair, now crusted with blood.

He can’t believe it. He can’t fucking believe it.

There in the centre of the room sits Dave, tied to a chair, back to him. There’s blood all over the floor and James throws up in his mouth, the stench alone making him want to keel over. Theres a table off to the side covered in tools, knives and drills and nails and James physically gags.

He pockets his phone, practically sprinting over to Dave. Dave’s got his eyes closed, panting harshly, head lolling back.

“Oh shit,” James cries, shakily cups Dave’s jaw.

Dave moans around the gag in his mouth, tries to get away but James soothes him, thumbing over his swollen and abused jaw.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispers, finally taking in what they’ve done to him. Dave’s missing a good chunk of hair and one of his ears, there’s wounds all over his body, some fresh, some old, blood painting most of his pale skin. He’s breathing unevenly, all throaty and guttural, and it hisses through his chest like he’s finding it hard to breathe.

Dave finally opens his eyes, clarity taking a moment to finally register in the depths of his brown eyes as he takes in the sight of James in front of him.

James gently reaches up, removes the gag from Dave’s mouth, unhooking it from behind his teeth.

“You’re gonna be okay,” James babbles, stroking over his head softly. “I’m gonna get you outta here.”

“Please,” Dave murmurs, bloody saliva stringing from his lips, his expression pained, eyes squinted.

“I know,” James shushes, untying one of Dave’s arms. It’s not like they’ll be able to make a quick escape though when his hands are nailed into the chair, but he does it anyway. Maybe it’s just to feel like he’s doing something helpful.

“Please,” Dave repeats, words garbled. “Please just kill me.”

James stills, eyes wide, shock permeating him as he soaks in Dave’s words. Dave wants him to kill him. Dave wants to die.

“No, no, no,” James moans, horror striking him as he shakes his head, reaching up to cradle the back of Dave’s head.

“It’s gonna be fine, you hear?” he says, eyes wet now, his throat clogging up.

Dave doesn’t answer, closes his eyes with a groan.

James quickly sniffs away the tears and presses a tentative kiss on Dave’s forehead before letting his fingers slip away from his head, dutifully untying his other hand from the rope binding it. It’s bitten into the skin, his wrists red raw and irritated, blood caked into the creases.

“I’m gonna go get help, okay?” James iterates, finally undoing the knot before smoothing his hands over Dave’s arms, careful of the wounds littering them. It doesn’t look like Dave will be able to walk, and James can’t carry him out alone.

“I’ve got a friend who’s coming. We’re gonna take care of you,” he says, hands trembling as he undoes the ties around Dave’s ankles. They’re not as tight as the ones around his wrists. He wonders how Dave hasn’t been able to kick them away already.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he repeats, though he’s not sure who he’s reassuring anymore.

Dave’s looking at him now, eyes round and full of desolation, tears slowly tracking down his cheeks.

James just shakes his head, not bothering to brush away the tears that are starting to wet his waterline, doesn’t want to listen to what Dave’s trying to tell him. He won’t give up. Not now.

“I love you,” he says, voice thick. “I’m gonna fix this.”

Dave just stares at him, barely able to keep his head up, and James gives a wet smile, though it doesn’t reach his eye.

He presses a kiss to Dave’s lips, though he’s soft, gentle. Dave kisses him back, but only a fraction, what with the little strength he has left. When he pulls away he lets their foreheads touch for the briefest of seconds, just holding Dave against him.

James finally pulls away and gives him one last smile before he turns, legging it towards the stairs.

He’ll have to call Cliff, tell him to come right the fuck now. Or maybe he should call the cops.

He runs up the stairs, twisting the knob, only as soon as he opens it, he’s whipped around the head, the wood of a bat bashing into his temple, and he’s sent sprawling backwards, falling down the stairs, hitting his ankle on the way down until he’s left in a heap on the floor.

He blearily looks up, sees a dark silhouette at the top of the stairs before the fog clouds over him and he passes out.

#metallica #metallica fanfiction #die dead enough #james hetfield x dave mustaine #james hetfield/dave mustaine #james/dave #james hetfield #dave mustaine #megadeth #kirk hammett x lars ulrich #kirk hammett/lars ulrich #kirk/lars #kirk hammett #lars ulrich

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