#megadeth

[katerinajqy]

i cant finish djfjsofhejdjf im done with this

[broidobe]

𝔞𝔩𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔶 𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔱

☾you and dave can never keep things under control, no matter how hard he tries, and the aftermath of your intensity always leaves a mess☽

☾warnings: smut, overstimulation, squirting, fainting, mild restraint, hotel room shenanigans, messy aftermath☽

⁎⁺˳✧༚megadeth masterlist

the room was dimly lit by the flickering neon glow from the motel sign outside, casting strange, jagged shadows across the bed. dave towers over you, his wild red curls falling into his face, eyes dark and locked onto your trembling form. you’re smaller, delicate under him, your body already shaking just from the way his calloused fingers drag down your side, teasing, barely touching.

“you gotta keep quiet, sweetheart,” he warns, voice thick with desire but laced with amusement, because you both know you can’t. you never can. and when he finally slides into you, stretching you open inch by inch, your cry shatters the fragile silence of the room.

“fuck,” he hisses, dropping his head to your shoulder as your walls flutter around him, sucking him in so tight he can barely move. “you’re gonna kill me.”

you’re already lost, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overtakes you. you’re so sensitive, every inch of your body reacting violently to his touch. he barely has to move, just grinding his hips against you slow and deep, and your body gives in like you have no control over it.

your back arches as the first orgasm rips through you, soaking both of you instantly, your legs kicking out weakly.

“fuck, fuck—dave!”

“oh, hell,” he mutters, trying to pin you down as your whole body convulses. he claps a hand over your mouth, not to be mean, but because you’re definitely gonna get kicked out if you keep screaming like that.

you’re still shaking when he pulls back, watching you catch your breath, eyes glassy, barely there. your thighs twitch uncontrollably.

“babe, you with me?” he pushes your damp hair off your face, his fingers gentle now.

you whimper, nodding weakly, but you’re already trembling again. he smirks.

“good,” he purrs, leaning down to kiss your jaw. “‘cause i’m not done with you yet.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

an hour later, the mattress is soaked.

“jesus christ, how do you even have this much in you?” dave groans, running a hand through his tangled hair. he tosses the ruined sheet onto the floor, looking at the damage.

you’re still sprawled out, dazed, legs still twitching, body limp but satisfied. you blink at him, barely able to process his words.

“s-sorry,” you whisper, voice hoarse from all the screaming.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “don’t be. it’s fucking hot.” he leans over, pressing a slow kiss to your swollen lips.

then he sits up, rubbing a hand over his face. “but we gotta figure out how to dry this bed before morning or we’re paying extra.”

you giggle weakly, watching as he grabs the motel hairdryer.

“think this’ll work?”

“dave, no.”

“dave, yes.”

he switches it on, and the weak puff of hot air does absolutely nothing to help the mess you’ve made. he groans.

“we are so fucked.”

you grin up at him sleepily, reaching for his hand.

“not yet,” you whisper, eyes dark.

dave growls, tossing the hairdryer aside.

“oh, you are in so much trouble, sweetheart.”

[ba11ltongue]

[road-2nowhere]

Megadeth on Sound FX - FX Network New York City, US, 1995. ➙ [ 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 ]

[adwals]

idk why but why not i probbaly will delete it tmrw just

[lagunned]

I'LL GET EVEN, dave mustaine.

pinned rules masterlist

pairing; modern!dave mustaine x fem!reader

summary; dave is angry at a producer and comes home, just wanting to see you. you have other plans, deciding to join in on a couple tiktok trend—he doesn’t find it as funny as you do.

warnings; very fluffy, modern era but with 1980s dave, slight cussing, no use of y/n, mentions of toxic masculinity, dave gets butthurt, tough boy isn’t so tough anymore. if im missing anything else let me know!

word count; 750

requests open, not proofread, based on this ask.

You never thought you’d see the day when Dave Mustaine—the snarling, sharp-tongued leader of Megadeth, the same man who wrote lyrics about death and betrayal—would be curled up in your arms like an overgrown cat. But here he was, his spiralling, copper curls a mess against your chest, his breath warm against your collarbone, completely unaware that he was currently being recorded, despite your quiet, hushed giggles that left your soft lips. He was so fucking tired he didn't even think anything of it: his first mistake.

It had started out as an innocent cuddle session. He’d come home after hours in the studio, grumbling about producers who didn’t “get” his sound, and immediately toppled onto you like a weighted blanket. You knew better than to say anything at first—Dave was a like cat in human form; if you pointed out that he was being affectionate, he’d immediately "hiss" and pretend he wasn’t. So you just let him rest, lazily running your fingers through his hair while his arm draped possessively over your waist, his strong, calloused thumb stroking the hem of your pants.

That’s when the idea struck.

With your phone angled just right, you hit record, keeping your voice soft, teasing. This will fucking get him. You knew he wasn't active on social media, let alone TikTok. And you loved your pranks—rather, you loved to push your boyfriend’s buttons.

“Who's my good boy?” you cooed, fingers tracing light patterns on his back.

A sleepy mumble; “...Me.”

Your grin nearly split your face into two. Got him.

“Yeah? My bestest boy?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, nuzzling closer into your warm neck.

You held back a laugh, heart melting at how completely relaxed he was. This was the Dave most people didn’t get to see—the one who craved softness, who would willingly tangle his limbs with yours just to feel safe for a while. The one that just yearned for intimacy and love, and admiration. Even if he didn't admit it. His gentleness with you proved it right—despite what the people had to say in the media. It was all bullshit.

Then, as if some internal alarm sounded, his whole body suddenly stiffened against you. Uh-oh…

“Wait,” he muttered. You felt the pause; the slow, tired wheels turning in his brain. He lifted his head slightly, hazel eyes squinting in suspicion. “The fuck did you just say?”

You bit your lip, trying not to giggle. “I said, ‘Who’s my good boy?’”

His brows furrowed. Then his eyes flickered to your hand—manicured nails clasped around your phone. His domestic, exhausted eyes met his own within your phone. What the fuck was wrong with you—on every level. Mentally, emotionally, physically—hell, spiritually. You don’t do that shit to thee Dave Mustaine!

“…Are you recording this?”

“Maybe.”

Dave shot up faster than a rocket and you barely had time to react before his tall frame was towering over you, his expression caught somewhere between betrayal and damage control. No, no, no, no—fuck no!

“Delete it.” His voice was gruff now, like you’d just walked in on him playing with kittens and he was scrambling to reassert dominance. He had an image to uphold—both with the fans and you. “Right fucking now.”

You pouted. “But you were soooo cute.”

"I’m not cute,” he grumbled, already crawling back into his toxic masculinity shell. He ran a hand through his thick golden hair, shoulders straightening, jaw clenching. “I’m fucking dangerous."

You tilted your head, still recording. Your phone shook as you held back a laugh. “Oh? Who’s my big, strong, dangerous boy?”

A muscle twitched in his cheek as a vein popped in his forehead. Dave pointed at your phone. “I swear to God—”

But before he could finish, you gave him the look. The one that said, I’ll stop recording if you just play along for two more seconds, pretty, pretty please sweetheart.

Dave groaned, rubbing his face. You could tell he was so done with your antics. And then, with the deepest, most reluctant sigh you'd probably had ever heard from his lips, he muttered under his breath:

“…Me.”

You burst out laughing, nearly dropping your phone in the process—but you relentlessly gripped it for dear life. Gotcha!

Dave, realizing what he just did, let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a feral growl before launching himself at you, trying to snatch your phone from your iron grip.

“You’re fucking dead,” he grumbled, burying his face in your neck, but the warmth of his arms tightening around you told you otherwise. Dave even shocked himself sometimes, it's like his heart reacts before his head. The little things made him realize that he truly was infatuated with you. Inside and out, no matter how cruel you may be. You took to him when no one else did.

And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind being your "good" boy after all.

© lagunned (2025—) all rights reserved.

[mxtal-up-ur-ass]

Didn’t they put makeup on him cuz like. He looked super fucking sick from heroin withdrawal. I might be mistaken pls correct me if I’m wrong

It’s absolutely bizarre seeing him in eyeliner, welcome, but so weird.

Do you guys have any more eyeliner pics?

[viperguy69]

They look like a lesbian couple

[doubletalkingmaeve]

every time I see a new photo of my favourite old man I say yippe and jump ten foot in the air

[noideamyguy]

Dave Mustaine walking on stage during a Guns N’ Roses’ performance, and getting kicked off the stage by security.

Fuck I love the 80s 😭

[rosebushjhj]

Do you just randomly catch yourself looking at pictures or band members and giggling like a schoolgirl

[garyholt]

People wanted me to draw stylized versions of musicians they like so I did that

[lagunz]

𖤐 james hetfield, lars ulrich & dave mustaine ; early metallica days

[doddoinkling]

A painting of Dave I made a while ago :D

He's very orange 🍊 💥🔥

[road-2nowhere]

Megadeth on Sound FX - FX Network New York City, US, 1995. ➙ [ 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 ]