#I might not even pose him on my shelf just have him like this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zaldritzosrose · 2 months ago

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Carpe Noctem (Modern Goth!Aemond x Goth!Reader)

Summary: Aemond enjoyed the darker side of life; the morbid, the macabre. He reflected his outside with how he looked on the inside, ignoring the unusual stares he would get from passersby. His world revolved around it, losing himself in dark and fantastical worlds...and then he met you. His real life gothic heroine.

CW: MINORS DNI, afab reader, she/her pronouns, gothic coded reader, gothic Aemond, dark/morbid fantasies, outdoor sex, graveyard sex, mild exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, phone sex, innuendo, profanity, (yes this is probably my truest self insert, sue me), Aemond wishes he could live in a gothic novel.

Words: 4535

Surprise I posted earlier than expected!

Happy Spooky Season! This is my second fic submission to our Fan Frankentober Event (masterlist will be found here) in collab with a few lovely moots! Head over to @fandomeventcenter for more info!

There was a darkness in Aemond. A darkness that had been left unconsidered and unloved until he had met you.

Aemond was a lover of all things macabre and morbid. It had started when he and his family had moved houses, living just a short walk from a cemetery. Horror stories had always fascinated him. Tales told to scare around a campfire or in a darkened room. Stories meant to get the heart racing and the hairs to stand tall on the neck.

The older he got, the deeper he delved. Collections of stories, ranging from the well-known classics to lesser-known fables, lined the walls of his room.

His interests soon followed. His music reflected his darker curiosities, from haunting musical classics to heavier, grungier sounds of heavy metal and gothic rock. And his clothing choices followed not long after, modelling himself after his favourite artists and horror icons. Even covering his injured eye – a mishap in his childhood – with a bespoke leather eyepatch.

Aemond lived his life by the darkness he always felt within.

You had always felt a little outcasted, though some of it was self-inflicted. You preferred solitude, with the only company being the fantastical beings within the pages of your favourite books.

Your love of art and photography helped you channel the morbidity within into something beautiful. Wandering around derelict buildings and darkened graveyards. Styling your images after the scenes in your novels.

Holding an affinity for the tragic heroines and broken damsels in your books, you began to create art of yourself. Posing for timer taken photos in intricate costumes. Collating the photos and creating your very own spooky, fantastical online presence.

That’s where he found you. He had joined the site to follow his favourite authors, artists and musicians. Simply to immerse himself further into the world he enjoyed.

He had been scrolling through posts, mindlessly passing time while his siblings bickered about something or other. And there you were.

It was like you had been pulled from one of the novels on his shelf. The layers of lace that draped over your body, the red as deep as freshly spilled blood. Makeup dark and deathly. Before Aemond knew it, he’d opened your page. Trawling through photo after photo, slowly getting lost in the dark, ethereal draw you seemed to hold.

After weeks of keeping himself updated with your posts, he decided he had to know you. No matter what happened, he had to try.

Tentatively, he opened his messages and, inspired by your ‘Spooky Season’ posts most recently, he chose one of his favoured quotes from Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

“I have crossed oceans of times to find you…your work is beautiful, almost as beautiful as you.”

Aemond could feel his heart beating hard enough he feared it might burst from his chest. Was that too weird? Was he too forward? Would you find him creepy?

There wasn’t much he could do now; the message was out there and deleting it would be even more suspicious.

So, he waited.

Your phone dinged and the message notification surprised you. A message from the username ‘truetooneanother’. You instinctively checked the profile first; it wouldn’t be the first time a stranger had messaged you in response to a photoshoot. Most were harmless, but you were always cautious.

A quick scroll showed almost exactly what you expected from a Frankenstein inspired username. Aesthetic pleasing images of books, his cat, shots out music gigs and records. Even a mix of beautiful photographs of what you guess was where he lived – perfectly framed images of graveyards, lakes, and some of the most gorgeous gothic architecture you had ever laid your eyes on.

But what you wanted, was a picture of whoever this stranger with classic horror knowledge was. And some deeper scrolling came up with your prize. One of few shots of your mystery messenger. A posed photo lit by what you guess was a fireplace or candles. The profile of his face was in main focus, and you were sure you could see what looked like an eyepatch, maybe?

A couple more scrolls and you found a full image of his face and you could have sworn your jaw dropped just a little. There was just something about him that had you intrigued.

Immediately, you reopened his message.

“That’s very kind of you, and how did you manage to choose one of my favourite literary quotes?”

You hit send and waited. Soon, you could see that he had read your message. You were surprised that you felt a flutter of nervousness in your stomach. You had never been like this over a stranger online before. But when your phone pinged again to say he’d sent a message, you were chewing your lip in excitement.

“Because it is my favourite, I can’t count how many times I’ve read Dracula. And your last post inspired it, you looked like you’d fallen from one of its pages.”

You could feel the blush on your cheeks. No one had ever spoken to you that way. Complimenting you without making you feel uncomfortable. Most comments or direct messages were failed attempts at flirting, sexual innuendo or just downright creepiness.

This time it felt different.

“Classic horror is one of my greatest inspirations, everything in those books is pure darkness and fantasy…making it real is a passion. Can I ask your name?”

There was something about the words he chose, the way he wrote his messages that gave you butterflies. How could you be so fascinated about someone you didn’t know?

“Aemond. May I ask yours?”

“Then you manage it perfectly, it suits you.”

Those two messages only made you blush deepen. Why was he having such an effect on you?

You gave him your name, feeling the heat radiating of your cheeks as he continued to compliment you – almost poetically.

You and Aemond continued to talk, moving your messaging from you social media to giving out your phone number. Those messages soon turned to phone calls, his voice bordering on hypnotic. You could barely get enough.

His phone calls were as poetic as his messages. The gentle timbre to his voice would sink into your mind and settle there.

A few more weeks and those phone calls became video chats. Hours spent talking about books, music, films. Where your favourite places were to photograph – for you it was where to set your shoots, for Aemond it was the places he wanted to create art from.

It wasn’t long before things turned a little more…x rated.

Behind the scenes pictures of your photography outings, showing off the variety of corsets, barely there lace dresses you would don for your ideas.

This was how you’d found out Aemond also enjoyed fencing. It was both expected and unexpected. When you’d learned his surname, you realised he came from a pretty well known Westerosi family, so higher class pursuits weren’t too far out of the question.

But the picture he had sent this morning, post training but pre-shower…

It had set your whole body on fire. Silver hair let loose and hanging over his shoulders. Clad only in his white fencing trousers and no shirt. Pale skin, lean torso on show. And his caption had waves of arousal coursing through your body.

He was beautiful. Like a dark character from one of your fantasy novels. It took you a moment to formulate a reply, and what you gave was far from your usual ability.

“Are you trying to kill me off?

You’d ended your message with a couple of emojis, the hot face emoji and the winking face. It wouldn’t be the first time you and Aemond had shared more racy messages, but this had been the first time he’d sent a photo like that.

And your heart was in your throat, desire wet between your thighs when you saw him typing.

“I would never, but nice to know you find me that attractive… you could see this in person if you wanted?”

“Fuck…” you muttered aloud, staring at the screen in disbelief.

A cheeky thought entered your mind. A picture for a picture was only fair, right?

You made sure the angle was perfect, showing off the shape of your body, your hand tucked seductively between your thighs. Your shirt bunched up to show a little skin. You added only a few dirty emojis and one word.

“When?”

Aemond almost dropped his phone when you sent that message back. Between the photo and your message, his skin felt hot, the crotch of his trousers getting tighter the longer he looked at it.

Fuck, you were stunning. Seduction and sensuality personified. His hand was tucked into the waistband of his trousers before he could stop himself. His other frantically messaging you back.

“Next week? You have that graveyard shoot planned right?”

Aemond’s hand shook as he typed. He needed release and he needed you.

“You have no idea what you do to me…I crave you…you have witchcraft on your lips.”

You fingers were like lightning as you replied, your own hand still nestled between your thighs. Part of you wanted to call him, hear his voice talking you through the desire that was thick in your veins. Your fingers dipped beneath your underwear, the ones holding your phone hovering over the call symbol.

And then the phone rang. Aemond’s name flashing on your screen. You barely even said ‘hello’, your voice soft as you dropped back onto your bed.

“Talk to me, please just talk to me…”

Aemond let out a soft chuckle, ending in a groan as his hand settled entirely into his trousers.

“Do you need me, sweet girl? Did my bare chest turn you on that much?” his voice was in that tone you adored.

Low and soft, almost a whisper. It sent a shiver down your spine in the most delicious of ways, settling deep within your core.

“You have no idea. Now I know what you hide under all that black and leather.”

Aemond only hummed in response, the rustling of material telling you exactly what he was doing. But you wanted to hear his voice. The soft sound of his breath told you he was as aroused as you were. Sometimes, the simplest things were enough to get the two of you going.

“Oh, darling, I hide a lot more than that. How badly do you need me?”

The tone, the implication behind his words had you sighing softly, fingers toying with your pearl. Circling softly at just the thought of what the rest of him might look like. You tried to calm yourself, to muster some of the darker more erotic poetry you had read on his recommendation.

“I…oh...I want your lust to tear the flesh of my bones, fuck…and leave me ravaged…”

Aemond felt his good eye roll into the back of his head. Having you read that poetry was one thing, but hearing it fall from your lips and mixed with sounds of pleasure. He could have come there and then.

“And ravage you I will, my darling…”

He could hear the movement of your hand against your body, the faintest sounds of your slickened fingers pushing you closer and closer to orgasm. His own hand working himself furiously at just the thought of having you beneath him, moaning his name. He laid himself entirely back on his bed, his phone on his chest as his hips began to rut up into his hand.

“I’d like to taste you in ways my tongue dare not speak…”

That was all it took to have you softly sighing his name down the phone, your release coming like waves over your body. Aemond followed soon after, rough grunts matching the rhythm of his hand.

Both of you panted as you calmed, the silence falling comfortably until Aemond spoke.

“I can’t wait to meet you.”

The day had come. Months of messages, calls, video chats had all led to this. You were going to see him in the flesh. And he was going to see you.

You had both agreed to meet just as you finished your planned Halloween shoot – a bit on the nose admittedly but you had chosen a graveyard near your hometown with your favourite horror heroines as your style inspiration. Ranging from classics like the Bride of Frankenstein to newer icons such as Morticia Addams. Simply, the shoot was entirely self-indulgent for you.

You knew you wouldn’t miss him. A few friends had come to help you out, setting up the camera, getting changed into another costume and all that. But other than that, the graveyard was relatively quiet.

Your focus remained on the shoot. Remembering your poses, the props, what you envisioned for the final images. But you could see the silver hair in the distance, contrasted against the entirely black palette of his outfit. Aemond kept his distance, leaning against a headstone as he waited patiently for you to be done.

The shoot was done, you had changed into what could only be described as a more casual combination of the costumes from the shoot. A flowy black dress, paired with Victorian inspired boots and a lacy black shawl you’d had since you could remember.

You could see Aemond walking towards you, your friends having long packed up and dispersed – most of them knowing what you had planned afterwards. Nerves set in your stomach.

What if he didn’t like you? What if, despite seeing you through the screen, he was no longer interested?

But all of that disappeared the second he stood in front of you. His long, lean form clad head to toe in layers of black. From the thick wool of his coat to the silken fabric of his shirt and the leather of his boots. That eyepatch laid perfectly over his eye – you had asked what happened and despite being a little unwilling, Aemond explained he’d injured it as a child but said no more. It was almost as though he enjoyed being mysterious.

“Aemond…” you smiled, moving to slip down from your perch on a stone wall.

Your smile only widened when Aemond held out his hand, offering his assistance to help you down. And you took it gladly, letting his fingers wrap around yours without hesitation.

Aemond kept hold of it, toying softly with one of the rings you wore.

“That shoot was truly a sight to behold,” Aemond whispered, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

He knew what it did to you, you knew he did. You were sure that he would choose that tone purposefully in calls to rile you up. And you loved it.

“So, you liked it? Horror Queens wasn’t too obvious for Halloween?”

Aemond laughed, and you let him lead you to a little clearing in the gravestones. Everything felt comfortable, his hand holding yours, the feel of him stood next to you. It just felt right.

“You were perfect, as always. Even now it’s as though you’ve stepped from, dare I say, one of Shelley or Stoker’s pages.”

You squeezed his hand in response, not knowing how to respond to such a compliment. But you were struck even more silent when you saw where he was leading you.

A large blanket was stretched out on the ground, perfectly placed between a group of headstones. A small gift, wrapped in black and red paper and finished with a velvet bow sat beside a hamper filled with food. More specifically, your favourite foods.

“Well, aren’t you a romantic?”

You sat down on the blanket, stretching your legs out in front of you as Aemond sat at your side. His arm instinctively wrapped around your waist. It was like you’d been beside each other for the longest time, everything felt so natural.

“A romantic? I am simply a man who wishes let you know how important you are.”

Aemond felt a need to restrain himself a little. Part of him wanted to spout all of the poetry and stories that wandered around his mind, to declare his love for you.

But he had just met you, in the literal sense. And he’d be damned if he scared you off now.

You, however, liked that about him. How open he was with how he felt. How he wasn’t afraid to give in to every emotion he felt.

“So, tell me. Don’t you know how much I enjoy your poetry?” you said it almost shyly, feeling Aemond’s arm tighten around your waist.

Aemond felt he could have melted there and then. But at the same time, the idea you enjoyed his words so much set a fire in his veins that he didn’t expect.

“Then you will very much like your gift, my darling.”

He leaned away, tugging the neatly wrapped gift towards him. Part of you felt guilty, you hadn’t bought him anything. But at the same time, you knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t mind.

His fingers brushed yours as you took the present from his grasp. As carefully as possible, you tugged at the ribbon and unwrapped it. They felt like books which didn’t surprise you at all, from Aemond. But what they truly were would surprise you.

Two beautifully bound notebooks, in black with shades of purple and red. Your breath caught in your throat as you opened the first one.

Pages upon pages of both of your favourite quotes, lines from poetry. You were already overwhelmed by the time you opened the second.

Handwritten versions of the poetry Aemond himself had sent you. The lines he had written to express his feelings towards you now preserved in his equally beautiful handwriting.

“Aemond…this is…”

You simply couldn’t find the words. So, you did the one thing you felt could express what you were feeling. You kissed him.

You almost threw yourself at him, the books discarded at the side as Aemond scrambled to catch you. Arms wrapping immediately around your waist and holding your body to his. Your legs straddled his waist, and you poured every ounce of affection and desire into your kiss.

Soon, Aemond reciprocated. Sliding a hand into your hair as his other gripped at your thigh.

He’d imagined everything about what kissing you would be like. How your lips would feel, how you would taste and how your body would feel beneath his hands.

The reality was more than he could ever imagine. And he wasn’t about to waste a single second.

Your own hands roamed over his body, gripping the soft, silk of his shirt while the other began to push the coat from his shoulders. You didn’t care that you were outside, there was no one here anyway.

All you needed was him.

Aemond shrugged his coat from his shoulders. The moment the fabric slid from his body, he moved to lay you on your back. The picnic could wait. You were the only meal he wished to devour.

Your dress bunched around your waist. Aemond slipped easily between your legs, and you could feel just how much he was enjoying the kiss. The swollen length of him pressing against you with only his jeans as a barrier.

His hips instinctively began to roll against yours, the hand on your thigh pulling your leg up to wrap around his slim waist. His lips began to trail down your neck and your head tilted back to let him continue his path.

Your breath came out in soft pants, your hand tangling into his hair as his lips settled on the exposed skin of your chest. Just as the first moan left your lips, Aemond pulled back.

His eye found yours, the blue entirely eclipsed by his pupil. Pure lust settled in his gaze.

“Shall I ravage you as I promised, my love?” Aemond leaned down, teeth nibbling at your ear lobe as he spoke.

You pushed your hips up against his in response. Words were failing you, but you could see in the look he gave you that he wanted your words.

“Please, Aemond, please…”

Your voice was embarrassingly whiny, need dripping from every syllable. And his response was immediate, latching his lips back onto your neck with a little more force this time.

“Whatever my love wishes, she will have. Your pleasure will know no bounds…”

His words were muffled as he buried his face into the swell of your chest, but what he said didn’t really matter anymore. All you both needed know was the touch of the other.

Your eyes rolled back as he continued his descent down your body. Pushing your dress higher as he reached your core. Your hand tangled tight in his hair, the pain only spurring Aemond on.

This was like a dream. The softness of your skin, the scent of your arousal as he licked a stripe over your clothed cunt. Aemond wished to commit every second to his memory.

He draped your legs over his shoulders, feeling you shift to rest on your elbows. The idea of you watching him had a heat licking up Aemond’s spine in the most delicious way.

Slim fingers tugged your underwear down your legs, a smirk thrown your way as he tucked them into his jeans.

“A souvenir?” you asked, chewing on your lip in anticipation as the cool air hit your slick folds.

Aemond didn’t answer, head dipping back down and settling between your thighs. His breath hot against your skin, sending goosebumps over the flesh of your thighs.

The moan you let out as his tongue licked over your core was almost sinful. Echoing through the empty graveyard as your head dropped back in pleasure. The sound only spurred Aemond on, now lapping at your folds as if he was a man starved.

“Delicious, so fucking delicious…” he almost growled the words into your body, sending vibrations through you that only heightened your desire for him.

His lips latched onto your pearl, suckling it between them and relishing the high-pitched keen that fell from your lips in return. He could already feel your thighs tightening around his head and Aemond was desperate to taste you on his tongue.

Your hand tightened to the point of pain in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp in a way that had him moaning into your cunt. He was rewarded with a fresh gush of slick over his tongue. Your fleshy walls pulsing around his tongue as he delved back in.

His name was like a prayer on your lips, chanting it over and over again as you felt the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Come for me, my beautiful creature…” Aemond grunted out the command as you tugged his face harder against your body, rolling your hips against his face.

Everything had sparks of pleasure biting at your body. His tongue licking at your walls, the slope of his nose rubbing against your clit in the most perfect way, his grip on your thighs almost painful.

You came with a scream of his name, a final pull on his hair earning you a hiss of pain but Aemond didn’t relent. He lapped up everything you gave him until you had to wriggle away from overstimulation.

“Fuck…” your voice was barely more than a whisper as you pulled Aemond back up your body.

Your skin was flushed, your cunt still pulsing as your high slowly left you. But Aemond’s hardened cock pressing against your damp core reminded you that he still needed to be taken care of.

And Aemond could see the look of mischief in your eyes. Your hips canting up to press your soaked core against him.

“Insatiable, hmm? Do you wish me to take you here, among the dead?”

You pressed your lips to his, sliding a hand between you to palm at the thick bulge in his jeans.

“I would let you take me anywhere; I am desperate for you…”

Your teeth tugged at his lip, his eye rolling back in his head.

“Besides, you did say you would ravage me.”

You punctuated your words with a squeeze of his cock, rubbing your palm down the length of it as he dropped his head to your neck. A few more touches had his cock twitching beneath your palm. Your fingers made quick work of his belt and zipper. Aemond came back to his senses just enough to push his jeans and underwear down just enough to free himself.

He immediately lined himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing inside. The head of his cock stretching your walls in a way that had your sighing out his name.

The day had gotten darker, but it only made the whole experience more perfect. The sun beginning to set just as Aemond began to thrust into you, the orange glow illuminating him from behind. His silver hair painted gold and his skin almost glowing.

“Yes, oh, yes…”

Your moans were the only sound Aemond ever wished to hear. His name had never sounded more beautiful that when it fell from your lips in pleasure.

His hands tangled with yours as he held them high above your head. His thrusts slow but punishing, feeling like he was filling every inch of your core.

“You are everything I need, my darling. A dream come true, a dream I never wish to wake from…”

Aemond’s words were answered with your mewls and moans, your heels in the small of his back spurring him on. His rhythm sped up in response, all but pounding into you with abandon.

You were both now solely chasing your pleasure. The only sound aside from your joined moans was the rustle of leaves and the faint cawing of birds.

Aemond’s lips locked with yours as he felt your walls clench around him. Pleasure overtook you and he drank down every one of your cries as his own release was milked from his cock with every twitch and pulse of your cunt.

His movements slowed, but he wasn’t ready to pull from your body just yet. He released your hands, resting his head against your chest. Your hands found his hair and back, calmly stroking as you both relaxed.

Neither of you knew what to say, but you both felt it. A calmness, a connection that tugged at both your hearts.

Aemond had known you were meant for him from the moment he had seen that first photo. But you, you believed it now. No one had made you feel as he did for the longest time.

It wasn’t love; it was more. Something darker, deeper.

You felt empty as Aemond pulled out of you, finding something to clean you up with. But it wasn’t before you were wrapped in his embrace again.

“I’m so happy I met you,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Though I fear I cannot be without you now.”

Aemond pulled away, tilting your face up to his.

“Darling, you’re already in my veins.”

The kiss he pressed to your lips was filled with nothing but love and promise. Promise of a darker, deeper love that you had only ever read about.

A love you would now get to experience.

Aemond Taglist:

@legitalicat @anjelicawrites @sylasthegrim @aemondsbabe

@aemondsbabygirl @blissfulphilospher @elaratyrell @multyfangirl

@thenameswinter99 @tumblin-theworldaway @kaelatargaryen

@hoosbandewan @thought--bubble @mysticalendings

@towriteloveontheirarms @arcielee

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut imagine #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond targaryen smut #fan frankentober 2024 #fan frankentober #modern aemond targaryen

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bluntsandcigs · 7 months ago

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ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

“𝐈’𝐦 breaking up with you”

Your boyfriend, for better or worse, was the love of your life and it was a fact that you sometimes lamented in moments when he was being especially insufferable. While certainly not without his good qualities, he had a list a mile long full of traits which often made you want to lob a pillow at his head, regardless of his Infinity. His tendency to be the world’s greatest troll was very high on the aforementioned list and he wielded his devious side with all the wicked glee of a well-seasoned trickster. You supposed being his girlfriend and thus someone he was exceedingly fond of meant you probably got off easy where his pranks were concerned. You’d met the likes of Utahime and Kento on occasion and both seemed perpetually prepared to kill him with lethal stares alone. You, on the other hand, despite often putting up with his nonsense were lucky enough to also be on the receiving side of his best side. With you he was thoughtful, funny, incredibly charming, and intensely dedicated to ensuring that you were constantly having the best sex of your life.

You loved him deeply and dearly.

But, you were also debating throwing him right out of your apartment in what little he was wearing.

Despite your claim that you were leaving him, Gojo’s smug grin remained steadfast and he made not even the slightest attempt to waylay your obvious annoyance with some of the sweeter playfulness you adored. He appeared to be delighted by the deadpanned irritation in your voice and plastered on your unsmiling face, his objective to vex you succeeding spectacularly. Glancing to your left, towards the small shelf of decorative knickknacks you kept there, you debated grabbing the first plush toy you could get your hands on just to chuck it right at him. Unfortunately, Gojo knew you too well and he tutted in response to your obvious considerations.

“Now, now, you can’t possibly be mad at me, can you? I’m only giving you what you said you wanted.”

“This is so not what I meant.”

Gojo, despite coming off as regularly lackadaisical missed very little and he’d been damn well privy to every single instance over the past year where you’d mused over your desire for a cat. Your love of animals, particularly those prone to purring and pouncing, was no big secret. The countless cat videos you’d cooed over and feline plush dolls that decorated your bedroom broadcast your love of the whiskered creatures just as clearly as your words did. He knew, damn well, that you’d been growing more and more keen on the idea of adopting a sweet little kitty of your very own. When he’d responded to your last remark towards future pet ownership with a grin and a none-too-covert comment that you might soon find yourself with a surprise over the next few days, you’d been giddy with anticipation. When he’d go through with it and what sort of cat he’d adopt in ‘secret’ had kept you on gleeful pins and needles for close to a week.

Now, as you stared at your almost naked boyfriend where he’d perched himself on your bed, you wished you hadn’t dedicated a single iota towards being excited.

“You said you wanted a cat, didn’t you? I thought this was what you meant.”

Glowering and well aware that he was feigning obvious ignorance, the fucking troll, you watched as Gojo adjusted his sultry pose for one that had his ass arching up for a better glimpse of the cat tail attached to the back of his underwear. It and the ears he’d fastened to his head with a well-placed headband were as black as you’d suddenly decided his soul was.

“Come on, babe. I had to give my girl the best of the best and you can’t deny that there’s no cuter kitty out there than yours truly.”

His grin stretched wider still and he made a sound deceptively close to an actual purr, the noise nearer to seduction than adoring affection. You were resolved to be unmoved by what you knew was an attempt to turn you on, turning towards the doorway which would lead you back into the living room.

“If I leave now I can probably get to an animal shelter before it closes.”

“Aw, you’re really leaving?”

He sounded genuinely pouty and disappointed and you were resolute about not caring in the slightest.

“Would I have been more convincing if I’d gone the tail butt plug route instead?”

The comment almost stalled you, because damn if that particular idea didn’t boast some level of promise, but you refused to be moved. At least not so easily. You took a step and stilled before you could take another, Gojo at your back so lightning fast you hadn’t even registered his movements until you felt the rush of air which signified them. He wrapped his arms solidly around your waist, nuzzling his face against the curve of your neck with an almost comical mimic of a cat’s meow. It would’ve maybe be a little cute if it wasn’t so infuriating, but it was definitely amusing and you bit back a tiny chortle of laughter with all the willpower you could muster. If he was going to be a goddamn menace then you weren’t about to make things easy for him.

“You don’t think I make a good kitty?”

“No. You make a good clown, though. Truly world-class on that front.”

“Ouch! I can’t believe my mistress is so cruel! Especially when I was so ready to give her all the cuddles!”

Anyone else probably would’ve been embarrassed to act so cutesy and forlorn, playing up the role of disappointed house pet, but shame was one trait Gojo had never gotten any real hang of. The man had enough cockiness to walk totally starkers through Roppongi without so much of a chance of blushing, so acting ridiculous behind closed doors was well within his comfort wheelhouse. Sometimes you wished you had even a drop of that kind of unflappable confidence.

“I doubt your type of cuddles is the kind I was hoping for, Satoru,” you grumbled, waiting patiently for him to just let the damn joke die already.

“Oh?”

You knew he was grinning even with the lack of seeing it, the wide spread of annoyingly kissable lips sure to be revealing those perfectly pearly whites of his. You felt teeth grazing your neck, a subtle scrap that settled into the tiniest nip where your pulse throbbed with a quiet drumming beneath your skin. His long fingers stretched and spread across your hips, pinkie fingers curling around the front belt loops of your jeans.

“What if I was gonna give you whatever cuddles you wanted? However you wanted them? What about that then, hmmm? Would that make me a good kitty? Would it make you wanna keep me?”

Gojo’s hips shimmied from side to side and you weren’t entirely positive if it was his attempt at making his tail sway or a not even remotely subtle effort to grind his cock against your ass. Knowing him, it had to be a little bit of both and feeling how hard he already was, as if he’d been eagerly anticipating the satisfaction of his cat boy fantasies, made it harder to deny him out of spite. You were annoyed for sure and never very keen to give him precisely what he wanted when he was being a pain in the ass, but Gojo was also stupidly good at making you cum. His talents in the bedroom were almost ludicrous in their effectiveness and if he was exceptionally game to give you precisely what you wanted, at least in a sexual respect, it wasn’t exactly easy to refute the possibilities.

He rumbled out another mockery of a purr and dragged his tongue across the sensitive skin of your neck, wet and smooth instead of at all scratchy like a real cat’s would have been. Perfect for making you feel good and curse your weak resolve, but you already felt wet just from thinking about how satisfied you’d be in the next few minutes if you relented.

“If you let me, I can eat your pussy so good you probably won’t even be mad at me anymore.”

“Wouldn’t eating my pussy technically count as some kind of cannibalism right now?” you asked him ruefully and you were rewarded with a delighted snicker in response, Gojo’s arms hugging you tighter.

“Oh, this kitty right here is keeping you. All mine. Can’t get rid of me no matter how bad you try.”

It gave you butterflies every time he said things like that, made little comments to suggest that for all his flightiness and reputation for being a player, he wanted to try for something more permanent with you. He may have been playing and playful, his default setting most days it seemed, but the words made your heart soar even so. The annoyance you felt from discovering his devious little prank hadn’t exactly fled in the wake of your affection, but it was tempered by it to some extent. If you were giving in to his hopes, you were giving in to them exactly the way you wanted and you weren’t about to let your obnoxious cat boy get away with his mischief entirely.

You shifted and turned, moving around in the cradle of Gojo’s arms to face him, mirroring the wicked glee on his face as your hand sandwiched itself in the space between your body and his. His brows shot up high, the shades he wore shifting down the slope of his nose just enough to give you a hint of the mesmerizing blue behind them. However, he looked quite pleased by the feel of your fingers squeezing around his cock. He was warm, even through the material of his underwear, and it was all too easy to map out the exact shape of his length with the cloth barrier in your way. You tried not to shiver just from feeling him, well-versed in how thick and long he was, the fullness that came with his erection sliding home inside your body an aching feeling you welcomed once you’d gotten used to it. That sensation was as dear to you as how honest Gojo’s reactions always were, nothing of his pleasure ever restrained or held back and it was as true in that moment as it had been since your first time together. Gojo’s smile grew wider and he let out a truly arousing groan as your palm rubbed against his shaft, fingers promising more.

“That can’t be all. Come on now,” you cooed, stealing a kiss from his lips and tasting the strawberry flavor of his chapstick. “Be a good kitty and let me know how good this feels.”

The band of his underwear stretched against the back of your wrist once you pressed your hand inside, fingers wrapped in a tight fist just beneath the tip of his cock, already leaking for you. It pleased you to feel his precum there, provided the slightest bit of slickness to help you roll your hand down his erection all the way to the base and lower, cupping his sac with a gentle squeeze that had Satoru’s hips bucking. The pressure made his dick weep further, smoothing out your strokes and providing you with what you needed to pump your hand over him in slippery glides he so clearly loved. Satoru mumbled your name, the smugness of his countenance wavering before the mounting pleasure. Those beautiful blue eyes of his fluttered closed, snowy lashes close to his cheeks, and seeing his mouth drop open for every sound of sensual delight was an utter joy. You loved it when you had him right where you wanted him, when just the feel of your hands coming together to work his shaft could make his thighs tremble. Your boyfriend may have been an incorrigible mischief maker who did so love to turn you into a soaking mess, but he could sometimes be so desperate for your touch.

Eager and greedy and all for you.

You needed more.

“Noooo!”

He outright whined when your hands left his dick, the length of it visibly throbbing with his yearning. His neediness was adorable with those cute little cat ears on his head and inwardly you considered how much better he’d look with the additional of a little bell collar, wondering if he might be into that in the future. Knowing Satoru and his never-failing interest in all sorts of sexual experimentation, he likely would’ve been thrilled by the idea.

“Don’t pout.”

You tried to kiss the look off his face, but it remained, Satoru steadfast and resolute to look as adorably put off as he could. When your fingers moved from his body to your own, tugging the shirt off your body with a notable urgency, his expression swiftly morphed into one that was greatly intrigued. Dissatisfaction was replaced with delight as his eyes raked so longingly over your half-naked frame, tongue working across his lips like someone had waved his favorite snack before his face the second your bra hit the floor. Teeth clamped down lightly on soft lips, Satoru shimmying his hips to sway his little tail as if to suggest that the sight of you briefly rubbing your nipples might be enough to make him pounce.

Like you were a mouse, his chosen prey.

You were no such thing and you lightly pushed at his chest to make him back away, give you room to lower your body down onto your knees. You pinched your nipples, peaks tight and providing the softest zing of pleasure through your breasts, smirking as you angled your chest towards him. His eyes widened and his smile was one of unadulterated excitement, a shaky exhale marking his happiness as his cock settled against the valley between your breasts. His hips moved, hands bracing against the wall behind you so he could thrust his slick erection through the soft crevice you’d provided him, his gaze enraptured by the view. He was long, just long enough that you could bend your head to tease the tip of his dick each time it drifted upwards, a thick weight nestled between the softness of your tits. The taste of him was warm and a little salty on your tongue, but you always found yourself wanting more, relishing each chance to caress the smooth head of his cock with a hurried swirl of your tongue.

“Feels so fucking good. Your pretty tits and that sweet little tongue on my cock. Can never get enough of this.”

“Wanna keep going then, Satoru? Wanna keep going until you’ve got my chest all covered in your cum?”

His hips shuddered, briefly angling towards a few faster thrusts through the warm cradle of your breasts. Gojo’s head shook, shades going further askew upon his face until he finally tossed them aside, unconcerned with anything other than his pleasure to care if they ended up broken on the floor. It was you that he treated with more care, freeing himself from the building ecstasy you’d been giving him to lift you into his arms, transporting you to the cushioned softness of your bed in seconds. He moved so fast you felt temporarily dizzy, but not so terribly that you missed how desperately he removed your jeans and panties, stripping you in a panting frenzy of need. It didn’t feel as if anything had been torn, no sounds of ripped denim stitching reaching your ears, but you knew that he could’ve destroyed your remaining clothing with ease had he wanted to. Gojo rather liked proving how easily he could rend fabric of all types from your frame and he’d been a fan of making buttons fly until you’d start grousing about having to mend or buy new clothes whenever the two of you felt horny. His restraint in that respect was surprising given how eager he happened to be. Gojo didn’t often put so swift a stop to foreplay, especially not whenever you had his cock nestled so pretty between your tits. He must have been waiting for you to come home for even longer than you’d anticipated for him to be so excessively keyed up.

“Impatient, are we, kitty?” you asked him, trying with your all not to sound breathless in your own state of anticipatory need.

“Say that like your cunt isn’t all juicy and ready for me.”

A gaze painted even clearer than sky blue roved with heated, covetous delight over the glistening wet of your pussy, lips pulled towards smug as he held your legs aloft, apart. Denying that you were exceedingly turned on would’ve been a bold-faced lie with the proof that you were lusting hard for your boyfriend right there before his eyes. It couldn’t stop you shrugging your shoulders, lifting your arms up above your head to present a picture of relaxation as well as readiness, fixing him with a smirk that beamed pride. Gojo’s plan could have been to seduce you all along, at least after he’d finished being a Special Grade pest yet he’d been just as seduced himself. He may have had all his ideas lined up like dominoes ready to be knocked down in a precise order, but his cock was flushed and hard where it came to rest against your folds. The tip still leaked with the evidence of how overcome he was by his need to have you, drips of heated precum dotting the top of your pubic mound with just one throb from his erection. Whatever Gojo’s exact intentions must have been had flown entirely out the window and he was clearly as impatient to cum as you were. He was the world’s strongest sorcerer, but making him ache to have you without having to really try made you feel pretty damn powerful yourself. After how much he’d irked you a few minutes ago, you were rather grateful for the ego stroking.

“You want me just as bad.”

“Then do something about it.”

You presented your dare with a squeeze of your hand around the head of his cock, a warm grasp that he thrust his length towards and the gliding motion had his thickness sliding perfectly across your clit. Smile wavering with a moan, Gojo tugged your hand away from his dick and brought your palm to his mouth, kissing lightly and dragging his tongue over the light taste of himself on your skin. When he lowered your hand, it was to rest it beside its twin against the sheets, his eyes darting towards the sight of your fingers clutching tight to the bedding once he pressed your legs together. Your thighs formed a tight haven for his shaft, different and sweeter than fucking your tits because the added softness of your pussy was right there underneath. Sodden folds, swollen from the craving for him, rubbing along the underside of his cock to coat it in further slickness and it made the process of fucking his erection along your clit so much easier. It wasn’t the same as being inside you, as having him stretching you open until you swore you felt him touching deeper than anyone ever had, but it may as well have been heaven regardless.

“Satoru, that feels so good..”

“Feels so much better than good to me, baby,” Gojo huffed, barely holding on to his smile as he rolled his hips with a mix of mounting, pleasured desperation and controlled precision. “Don’t even have to be inside you to make us both feel good. Can make you cum so hard just from doing this.”

He was right, truthful, and you could feel how every stroke of his smooth cockhead brushing across your bud was pushing you towards a mounting bliss that would have the thighs pressed around his cock shaking in no time flat. He felt so hard and hot against you, the wet of your cunt audibly slickening his flesh further until the sound was deliciously close to the familiar cacophony that filled your bedroom whenever he was inside you. It was wonderful yet excruciating, fulfilling your needs while leaving you anxious for more, aware of the empty feeling inside you. Gojo would never leave you unsatisfied, because he never had, but the longer he thrust his way between your thighs, the deeper your wants became.

“You can. I know you can. But, fuck, Satoru, it’d be so good if you were inside me. Even better than this.”

Gojo’s groan said he knew, that he remembered how tight you were and how perfectly the squeeze of your inner walls always milked him dry. He seemed to struggle for a moment with keeping his eyes open, crystalline hue half-hidden by lowered lids as he stared down at the repeated peek of his cockhead questing forward through the crevice of your thighs. You glanced down to see it too, trembling with pleasure as you watched his tip rub and grind against your clit, bucking your hips up to ensure the pressure intensified. You moaned and it was a weak sound, an orgasm threatening to tear its way through you before long, leading your fingers from the sheets to your own chest, pinching your nipples. Gojo’s hips stuttered from the sight, his hooded glance drawn up your body and higher, locking on your face.

“Later,” he promised you finally, tone throaty and strained as groans pitched into near whines. “I’ll be inside you for as long as you want later. But..”

He smirked, like a devil with the face of an angel, dressed up in the cheap cat costume which had started it all.

“Kitty’s gotta mark you now.”

It should’ve made you cringe or laugh. It probably could have had you doing both at the same time, cheesy as the comment was. Especially with his eager thrusts shaking the cat ears on his head until the band holding them in place looked poised to fall right off. You just didn’t have it in you to care about the silliness or anything beyond the fact that he was making you cum, your throbbing clit and the unrelenting drag of his cock across it pulling an orgasm through your core before you could truly even prepare for the fall. Gojo didn’t have to be nestled deep to feel your climax overtaking you, seeing it before him in the sharp arch of your back and the kneading of your hands across your breasts hurriedly moving back to the sheets. You kept your eyes open in the thick of it, gazing up at your lover as he watched you come undone with parted lips, seeming hypnotized by the visage of your release before him. He didn’t blink, an almost ethereal vision made human by the way his own control faltered, broken and splintered by his own fall to ruin. Gojo’s cock pulsed against your puffy cunt and he cried out his satisfaction as it spilled across your belly and chest, haphazard lines as white as his hair marking your sweaty skin.

He turned his head, pressing his teeth into the side of one of your calves just hard enough to leave a mark, but it was difficult to even mind any hurt there could have been while the two of you came together. Sensations too good to be real burrowed beneath your skin, carried through the pit of your being to every part of it, and you let the ebb and flow persist for as long as it must, savoring the wonder of being brought to the edge so easily. It was always a marvel to you in the aftermath, as your latest orgasm slowly found its way towards softening, how successfully Gojo could please you and how much it could leave you craving more. Your body still shook, your pussy intensely soaked from how hard you’d just cum, but the aching he inspired in you lingered deep where you wanted him to be, almost enough to make you forget that you’d initially been cross with him.

Curse him and his magic dick and his stupidly pretty, wonderful face.

God, you were so in love with him.

The feeling appeared to be very mutual, broadcast like a song across airwaves and carried to you through the look he gave you once the messy pulsing of his spend finally halted. Gojo peered down at you with a smile, less smug and more sweet than you expected he would’ve easily let others see on him. He looked close to swooning, though he may have just been a little fuck drunk from his orgasm, yet you could see past the post-sex daze to glimpse the more that was written in those eyes of his. You weren’t always sure of it, battling with the perceptions of his reputation and your own insecurities, but the softness of how he looked at you was there, as sweet as the way he kissed you when he lowered your legs to lean down. Gojo stole as many kisses as he pleased, each one slow and savoring, lasting until he saw fit to nuzzle his face against your neck with a mimicked purr that had you hugging him with legs and arms alike. You petted the cat ears off his head, grazing your nails through snowy white locks to make him repeat the noise a second time. When it had you giggling, a sound he claimed numerous times to be his favorite, Gojo lifted his head to grin at you and he looked pleased with himself, victorious in a way that would’ve made you pinch him had you not felt so good just then.

“So, are you gonna keep me?”

“Hmmm..I dunno..”

“Seriously?! I made you cum in less than five minutes! That’s gotta be worthy of a forever home!”

“Yeah, maybe, but as far as pets go, you’re kind of a messy one, Satoru. I mean, just look.”

You gestured towards your chest with a hand, reminding him of the spill of cum he’d gotten all across your bare breasts and stomach, as well as his own now. Gojo looked temporarily pleased and more than a little aroused by the sight of his so recent release painting your body, but he let the delight fade into a mask of determination. He hopped off the bed, tucking himself back into his underwear, and he marched out of your bedroom with a purposeful stride that seemed less serious than he may have meant it to when he whistled along the way. The whiplash of his strange, mercurial moods had your head shaking, though not without affection, and you climbed off the bed to give your still tingling body a good stretch, heading towards your dresser for some pajamas to change into in the near future. Quite possibly after Gojo had fucked your brains out the way you were anticipating that he soon would.

The motions of your feet carrying you across the room stopped at the strange sounds you heard just beyond the open door, straining your ears to listen. Nearby in the bathroom, you could hear Gojo making shushing noises, talking in a low whisper you could catch without being quite able to discern the exact words he was saying. You looked around the room, spying his cellphone nestled atop your table along with his usual clothing. Who was he talking to?

When he returned to you, moistened washrag in hand, you noticed how he seemed to pointedly avoid your gaze while he set to work cleaning his cum from your body. The whistling which had gone with him out the room resumed, a little louder and appearing far more like a distraction than it should have.

“If you’re hiding another prank or something, I am officially going to cockblock you for the rest of the night. I mean it.”

“You’re an awfully suspicious woman.”

“I’m dating the trolliest troll to ever troll. I think I’m well within my right to be suspicious of whatever shenanigans you’ve got up your sleeve. So, come on. No more surprises, Satoru. What was with the whispering in the other room?”

Withholding his answer until he could finally see your brow beginning to pinch, waiting for the reaction of near annoyance he’d been hoping for like the wicked little shit he was, Gojo tossed the washrag into your dirty clothes hamper and strode out of the room again. Left standing there, questions unanswered, you fought not to simply follow him or start rubbing your temples, electing to just wait for whatever was coming next. Knowing Gojo, it could’ve been anything. Ferreting through drawers for something to change into since the possibility of further mischief had cooled your lingering arousal, you tugged on a long t-shirt as soon as you got your hands on one, rooting further to find a fresh pair of panties.

Gojo cleared his throat from the doorway, halting your quest prematurely, and the frustrated look on your face was gone the second you saw what he had held so gently in his large hands.

“Oh.”

“Yep,” he replied, massive smile beaming, happily smug from your shocked reaction. “Not what you were expecting at all, was it?”

He stroked one long finger underneath a tiny chin, the fluffy kitten in his hands purring from the attention and staring at you with the biggest blue eyes you’d ever seen, aside from your boyfriend’s. It looked like Gojo was cradling a living, breathing powder puff and you felt your heart threatening to absolutely burst at the view of such a precious creature just within reach. You wanted to ask him where and when he’d managed to find such a gorgeous cat, but your emotions were threatening to get the better of you, questions hard to manage when you were so happy.

“Satoru.”

“Hey, baby, don’t cry. This was suppose to be a good surprise. I mean, obviously not as good as me being dressed up all sexy, but still good, right?”

Gojo took a step forward and he extended his fuzzy surprise out to you in the clear hope that holding the kitten would make you smile again. You grinning through the tiny spill of tears that made your vision glossy and gingerly brought the tiny fur baby to your chest, trying not to squeal at how readily the kitty leaned into the cheek scritches you gave.

“No, it’s a really good surprise, Satoru. A happy cry kind of surprise, I promise.”

“Oh. Whew. Okay. That’s a relief. I don’t know what I’d have done if you suddenly decided to reject Satoru the Second.”

Purrs rumbled sweetly against your chest, a sound and sensation you’d been hoping to have in your life for months. It comforted you, elated you, and those feelings couldn’t be beaten by anything, not even the absurdity of the name your boyfriend had chosen.

“We’re definitely not naming him that.”

“We have to, though! He looks just like me! It only makes sense to name him after me!”

“Nope. Definitely not. I veto.”

“We could call him ‘Toru for short?”

“What about something cute? Like Pancake?”

“Okay, maybe you’re onto something, but if we’re going with naming him after something sweet, it at least ought to match how he looks. What about Mochi? Or Marshmallow?”

Gojo came closer, rambling off a list of dessert related names he felt might be suited to the ball of pure fluff that seemed completely content in your hands, like he knew he’d found his forever home with the two weird humans that surrounded him. Your boyfriend started petting the kitten’s head, showing his own immediate affection for the pet he’d been planning to gift you all along.

He may have taken a very roundabout way of revealing what he’d done for you, but in truth his methods hadn’t been all that bad. Gojo could be a menace in the best and worst ways. That much was a fact known to anybody who associated with him.

To you, however, he was the sweetest nuisance.

Silly cat boy costumes and all.

#gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #catboy #smut #jjk smut #what is happening #i’m crazy #x reader #fem reader

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cosmerelists · 1 year ago

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Top 10 Reasons that Kaladin is a Cat

I already argued that all Stormlight characters are cats. But while writing that list, I kept coming up with reasons why Kaladin specifically is a cat. One might argue that he is most feline of all Stormlight characters.

Which is exactly what I am about to do. So here’s why Kaladin is DEFINITELY a cat.

1. He likes to be high.

As I pointed out in my original list, Kaladin LOVES heights--just like cats do. He’s happiest when he can be taller than everyone else, high up in the sky.

2. He’s good at climbing.

Cats are very good climbers, and so is Kaladin! There are two scenes in which Kaladin must scale an impossibly vertical wall, which he does using Stormlight. Cats use their claws, but it’s basically the same.

3. He hates to be wet.

Kaladin is NOT fan of the rain. He may be pro-storm, but he hates the Weeping, during which a continuous drizzle makes everything wet and gray and sad. Cats also do not like being wet. As you know if you’ve ever had to wash one.

4. He hates to be locked up.

Cats do not like closed doors. If you dare to cut off their divine right of passing through any doorway, they will scream their displeasure. Kaladin is also not a fan of closed doors--like when he was locked up in prison for a while and found himself very unhappy in captivity.

5. He once tore a piece of paper to shreds just to be an asshole.

Have you ever had a cat look at you directly in the eye as it knocks something beloved off of a shelf or scratches your couch or violently attacks the Steris pin you just got from your Cosmere box (that last one might just be me)? Well, this reminds me of when Kaladin was in the slave wagon, and the slave trader guy asked him to help with directions and handed him a map, and Kaladin just tore it to shreds. Very justifiable and cat-like behavior, if you ask me.

6. He is not impressed by you.

Cats are not impressed by kings, as the saying goes. And neither is Kaladin. In Book 2 when he found himself working for the Kholins, he spent his time being DEEPLY unimpressed, especially by Adolin. It was like Adolin had a cat-bodyguard.

7. He has self-healing abilities.

Cats use their purring to self-heal: apparently it helps them. Kaladin uses Stormlight, which is less cute. If only he purred instead.

8. He pretends not to be hurt.

It is very difficult to tell if a cat is injured--they’re good at pretending that they’re not. And even before he could just wave a hand to heal himself, Kaladin also had trouble admitting when he was too hurt to move around. I’m thinking especially about the end of Book 2 when he hobbles around while everyone else is marching to the center of the Shattered Plains, all the while thinking to himself that he probably shouldn’t be moving around. But he does anyway.

9. He is very graceful and tends to land on his feet

In fact, Kaladin likes to land in a straight-up hero pose.

10. He likes to pretend he’s solitary, but he needs friends.

Cats are supposedly solitary creatures, but if you’ve ever had a cat, you know they tend to want to be around you. Maybe they’re just chilling in the windowsill across the room, but they’re still hanging out. Cats in the wild sleep in a big pile. They’re actually more social than their reputation claims. And in a similar way, Kaladin tries to give off big solitary energy, but really, he does better when he’s around his friends, even if he’s just sulking at the table while Adolin and Shallan talk.

#cosmerelists #cosmere #Kaladin #stormlight archive

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theloveoffootball10 · 3 months ago

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sᴛɪᴄᴋᴡɪᴛᴜ : ᴛ ᴡ ᴏ

m a s t e r l i s t

ᴛ ᴡ ᴏ

Pulling into a parking space at the Hilton hotel I see Lando already waiting by his car for me. I don't know what I've got myself into with this party but I know what's coming later and I'm looking forward to him being in me.

"Impressed?" I ask Lando, I can see him admiring my parking.

"Maybe. Come on, you can put whatever stuff you have in my room"

"An invite to your room, whatever did I do to deserve that Mr Norris?" Standing in the lift with Lando you can cut the sexual tension with a knife. Things have gone from 0 to 100 without even trying.

"Must be the parking that did it Lucía" hearing my name roll off his tongue, I never would've thought my name could sound so good.

"I thought it might be that. You'll be asking me to marry you when you see my driving"

"I just might be. I need the full experience first though, you can't be giving me false promises to lure me into marriage" Lando looks at me from the corner of his eye and I can tell he's dying to laugh.

"You're an idiot. Lead the way" I say stepping out of the life following Lando to his room. I don't actually have a lot with me, I have a wardrobe of clothes at my dad's house so I've mainly brought make up and toiletries. I don't know how that's going to work out but that's not a me problem right now. That's a problem for tomorrow's Lucía.

"I love a woman who knows what she wants"

"Believe me Lando, I know what I want" and right now it's to not go to this McLaren party but I'm not going to admit that "I suppose being a driver they give you the decent suites in the hotel"

"I suppose there's got to be some perks. Let's go and see what's happening at this party. Contractual reasons I have to show my face and pose for photos but you'll not be alone"

"I don't mind being alone. I've came to Silverstone for the weekend alone, I won't break I promise"

We spend a few hours at the party, I've never been one to shy away from a few drinks and a dance and with Paris Hilton as DJ I'm going to revel in the atmosphere. It's not the Silverstone experience I'm used to but I'm having fun regardless.

"Are you ready to get out of here? I've done what I need here but if you want to stay we can" Lando asks as he rejoins me. I might have had a few drinks but I'm not drunk, in fact I'm not even tipsy.

"I thought you'd never ask" I say standing up from my stool at the bar. It's not like I'm having a bad night I would just much rather get Lando alone. Making our way back to Lando's suite I keep my hands to myself, it might be a private event but you never know what prying eyes are around "I hate to be that person but is there any chance you can lend me a T-shirt? I was expecting going to my dads and have no clothes with me"

"Of course, help yourself they're just on the shelf in the bedroom"

"Thanks Lando" walking into the bedroom I pick the first T-shirt up I see, it happens to be a white quadrant one but I'm sure Lando won't mind. Deciding I just need to be bold to get what I want, I walk into the bathroom discarding of my clothes in favour of Lando's T-shirt. "I hope you don't mind but the bra had to go"

"I absolutely don't mind that at all" Lando says looking up at my from the sofa and I can tell he's trying to look at my chest to see if I'm telling the truth "if you're not wearing a bra does that also mean you're not wearing underwear?" Lando slowly walks over to me as he asks the question we both know the answer to.

"You'll have to find that out for yourself won't you"

"Don't worry I plan to Lucía" as Lando reaches me I feel one arm pull me closer by my hips and the other on my neck as he crashes his lips against mine. It's rough and full of lust, but gentle at the same time. If it wasn't already obvious, this kiss confirms to me that Lando wants me.

I grab Lando by the hand dragging him over to the bed and sit back as he spreads my legs. He knows I want him as much as he wants me and I have no plan to stop him. I only have Lando's t-shirt on which somehow makes this feel like dirtier sex. He lifts my legs so they're over his shoulders, he's not messing around and wastes no time burying his face between my legs.

I cry out as I feel his tongue on me, the sound echoing throughout his suite. Conscious of who might be in the room next door, I bite down on my hand to muffle the noise from me.

"Don't bite your hand, I want to hear your moans" his tongue flicks against my most sensitive spot as I feel his fingers slip inside me.

Everything happens quickly, I can tell he can't wait and the feeling is mutual. I squirm under his touch as his fingers curl forward, an orgasm shoots through my body catching me off guard. I didn't expect it to be that quick. I feel embarrassed it happened so quickly until I see the look Lando is giving me. Lando looks impressed with himself, almost proud and he knows I'm more than ready.

My muscles are still clenching as he frees himself from the boxers he's wearing and thrusts into me in a single movement. I arch my back practically begging for him to not be gentle and he understands. I can hear the bed banging off the wall as he thrusts into me harder and I cry out in pleasure at the roughness. I feel Lando's breath on my neck as he kisses along my shoulder while he continues thrusting.

"You feel so good Lucía. Your moans are going to get us in trouble" his words are whispered and breathless "between your legs is a perfect fit for me"

I don't say anything, I physically can't say anything. All I can do is moan at his words as my nails scrape down the nape of his neck and my legs lock around his waist. I don't even think about the scratch marks he might be left with.

I notice Lando becoming more vocal and his pleasure builds and I know he's probably close. All of our inhibitions fade as we both moan, his thrusts becoming less controlled. It's all too much for me to handle, I can see the lust in Lando's eyes as he watches me come undone for him for the second time tonight.

I lean my head back giving in to the pleasure feeling like Lando has set off a chain reaction within my body. The heat spreads through my veins and I happily allow it. Being my second orgasm in a matter of minutes my whole body feels so much more sensitive. I bite down on Lando's shoulder gently as he continues to thrust into me. As I tighten around him it tips him over the edge. I lift my head from his should allowing him to kiss me again. My breathing is all over the place, Lando presses his forehead against mine as we both try to catch our breath his hand wandering under his t-shirt to my breasts.

"Have you not had enough?" I ask, unable to wipe the smile off my face.

"I don't think I'll ever have enough of you after that Lucía"

#lando norris x oc #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris #formula one smut #formula one fanfiction #formula one #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #lando #lando smut #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 smut #formula one fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut

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alexdelray1 · 6 months ago

Text

42 Miles x Fem Reader.

Song: Just like fire, by Pink.

I encourage to order and read. ;).

Part two:

-Reader, would you like some tea? - said a voice from another room.

I ignored him. I didn't want to answer when I was listening to my favorite song.

I know that I'm running out of time. I want it all…

The footsteps approached my room and stopped in front of it.

“Are you going to hang there all day?” Miles asked me. My boyfriend of two months. I was just hanging from a sash while practicing aerial sport. It was a combination of gymnastics, dance acrobatics and strength training. I had to do it to stay in shape. Spider-woman needs to train from time to time.

And I'm wishing they'd stop tryingna turn me off. I want it all…

-It's better to hang on a wire than on a line. - I commented and made another pose in which I was upside down. Of course, Miles doesn't know that I'm the hero of New York. He has a specific opinion about heroes.

-So, are you finally going to take part in some competition? You can do all this, but you don't want to show it off. - Miles said and put the cup of tea on the shelf. He walked up to me and directed me towards him.

-You know, it's all money. You need a costume, a personal trainer, a manager and everything. - I made an excuse that was somewhat true in a way. I can't appear on TV as Reader. Someone might recognize my body structure or the technique of my movements.

-I understand, but you have money like no other.- he commented, looking around the room.

-Yes, but my parents are frugally frugal.- another excuse. It's not like they bought me 20 Sims expansions and promise me more for the red bar.

-Yes, thrifty and they bought it for you.- Miles said and pointed to the sash. Fuck, the fucking son of a bitch has eyes. Fucking bottom.

-Well, I promised them that I would keep my virginity until marriage.- I said. I lie like crazy. But well, I'm like a priest who tells Catholics that he didn't touch any children. And he touched.

-Yeah something that doesn't exist anymore.- Miles laughed and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

-Just like altar boys.- I laughed. My 'watch' beeped, so I got off the sash.

And I'm walking on a wire trying to go higher, feels like I'm surrounded by clowns and liars. Even If I give it all away, I want it all.

"Do you have anything planned again?" Miles asked me and crossed his arms. This happened to me very often, that someone from the spiderverse needed me.

-Yeah, I have to help Jurek cut wood.- I said in the crowd. I quickly went to the hall and started putting on my shoes. I quickly took my backpack and opened the door.

-But everyone here- Miles didn't finish.

-Bye!- I said and ran out the door.

-They live in blocks…-

I quickly put on my costume in an alley, automatically (electrically).

We came here to run it, run it, run it.

I climbed the building and looked down.

We came here to run it, run it, run it.

I jumped and started swinging on the buildings.

Just like fire, burning up the way, If I can light the world up for just one day.

The feelings are the same as always. Excitement, disbelief and happiness.

Watch this madness, colorful charade.

And this one highest jump through which I can see the whole of New York

No one can be just like me any way.

I see so much and nothing, but it's still not enough, I will do this for the rest of my life.

Just like magic, I'll be flying free.

I remember the first time I did it and everyone was looking at me.

I'ma disappear when they come for me.

They look at me now too, but not like they did then.

I kick that ceiling what you're gonna say.

Then I was seen as something new, unpredictable and unknown…

No one can be just like me any way.

And now, I am hope.

Just like fire.

I entered the old building through the window. I don't want to risk some random guy having an existential crisis. I pressed something on the watch and Gwen's hologram came out.

-Hi Gwen, nice to see you. What's up? - I asked.

-You have to help me. "Seriously," she said nervously.

-Who do I need to fuck up? - I asked.

-That's not the point. See, I have to go to planet 1610 and--

-See your boyfriend?- I asked ;)

-No… Not only that. I also need to see some anomaly and I want to spend some time there with Miles. Can you cover for me? You know, if Miguel asks you where I am, tell him it's just too late and it's okay because he means he won't believe me - she asked hopefully.

-Sure, just don't confuse it with mine.- I joked.

-All right. Thank you. Bye, she said and hung up.

-Bye…. Time for patrol… - I said and jumped out of the window (dream).

And people like to laugh at you cause they are all the same. See I would rather we just go our diffrent way and play the game.

I entered my house after a few hours of patrol. I can finally chill out.

And no matter the weather we can do it better, you and me together forever and ever. We don't have to worry about a thing no.

I looked down and Miles' shoes were gone. I feel a bit bad now that it turned out this way. I left it at my house, I would feel weird if someone did that to me.

Beep.

We came here to run it, run it, run it.

I looked at my watch.

We came here to run it, run it, run it.

-What's going on again?- I asked tired and irritated.

-Miles, he's in danger,- Gwen said nervously.

-Which Miles?- I asked her.

-There's a good chance two. My Miles is in your universe and I think he might be in your Miles' apartment.- she replied. Fucking hell, whoa. What the fuck am I going to do? Well, of course I will save him. What if Miles has a heart attack or something when he sees himself but not himself? My love interest might fucking die.

-Okay, I'll go get him. - I said and was about to hang up.

-Wait, don't bring it to HQ.- she stopped me.

-Why?- I asked her.

-Just, I'll explain later. Okay?-

-Okay, but you have a slight debt. Bye, I said and hung up.

Now I have to save my lady in trouble. It happens to the best Sigmas.

Just like fire burning up the way.

If I could light the world up for just one day.

Watch this madness colorful charade.

No one can be just like me any way.

Just like magic, I'll be flying free.

I'ma disappear when they come for me.

I kick that ceiling what you're gonna say.

No one can be just like me any way.

Just like fire.

I climbed into Miles' room through the window. Nothing new, it has its own figures and other things.

-Oh, Reader. What are you doing here so late? - the woman who opened the door to Miles' room asked me. It was his mother, Rio.

-Good evening. Do you know where Miles is? - I asked her with a smile.

-He was here about an hour ago and went with Uncle Aron. Did you help him undo his braids?" she asked me.

-What--? Oh yeah, sure. It took a long time. I'll be going now.- I said.

I said goodbye to my probably future mother-in-law and went to the roof of the building.

If Miles didn't have braids, it means Mrs. Rio didn't see our Miles. I need to see Aron's apartment.

I put on my costume and started heading towards Uncle Aron's house.

So look, I came here to run it.

Just cause nobody's done it.

Y'all don't think I can run it.

But look I've been here I've done it.

Impossible please.

Watch I do it with ease.

You just gotta believe.

Come on come on with me.

I climbed onto the window but didn't go through it.

Oh, what's a girl to do.

I looked through it, but I didn't really realize what the situation was.

Oh, what's a girl to do.

I saw Miles without his braids, i.e. 1610, tied to a punching bag.

Oh, what's a girl to do.

Aron left the room saying something to him and after a while, came out… Prowler?

Oh, what's a girl to do.

He got close to Miles and said something while taking off his mask. Wait, is that?

Just like fire burning up the way.

If I could light the world up for just one day.

Watch this madness, colorful charade.

Miles?

No one can be just like me any way!

#x reader #fem reader #spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderman #spider woman #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader

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aemondsbeloved · 2 years ago

Text

You’re Not Like The Regulars [Part 2]

pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x reader

summary: on the night his father’s health fails him, Aegon prepares the leave with the woman from the street of silk he has fallen in love with. as he leaves the Red Keep he runs into the last person he wants to see and he will not be soon to see them again. He can almost forget him as the years passed and a life with children was made with you, until someone arrives on your doorstep ten years later (5.3k)

warnings/notes: no major warnings, king!Aemond, greens win au where aegon gets on that ship, read part one here!

That night when he went to the castle to bring precious belongings and some finery he could trade for coin for his new life, Aegon had seen Aemond.

“It is unlike you to be in the castle this late brother,” Aemond said casually from the wall he leaned against as he lurked in the darkness.

Aegon was frozen in the moment, the bag heavy with belongings he would sell. Turning around he looked at his younger brother wearily.

“Going somewhere?” Aemond asked, eyes looking to the bag then back to Aegon.

The silence was thick but Aegon had enough sense to know he could not outrun Aemond should he choose to keep him here.

“Nothing to say?” Aemond asked, amused. “That is a first.”

The truth seemed the right thing for once. Aemond knew it already.

“I am leaving on a ship to Essos.”

Aemond appraised him in silence. “Why would you do that?”

“Father will be dead soon,” Aegon told him bluntly. “Any day now I’d say. Do you really think I want to be King? Do you think I should be King?”

His brother hummed, an answer in itself. “You never did care about your duty.”

Aegon briefly thought of his love who was packing to leave and wondered if his brother would stop him. He wondered what he might say to convince him to let him go.

“You know I would be a terrible king,” he sought his brother’s eye that connected with his. The brothers who had more contempt for each other as the years had passed considered each other in silence. “But you would not.”

Aegon did not know much and had been doubted by his family for his entire life for reasons that he had caused. But he knew what Aemond wanted, what Aegon had been given but never wished for.

“You know it should be you who will get our father’s throne. So take it.”

Aegon knew that Aemond was considering it but when had Aemond ever taken something easily?

“Why do you want to leave?” Aemond posed a different question than he had before.

For another time that night, the truth seemed to be the only solution.

“There’s a woman that I love,” he admitted. “I desire her beyond lust. She is meant to be mine and already has my heart. I am going to leave with her, Aemond.”

“You fell in love with a woman from the street of silk?”

Only his brother would not say the word whore. Aegon nodded.

“I have never known you to lay with a woman so dearly.”

Aemond’s words were menacing. “It is not like that,” Aegon told him tersely. Suddenly he sounded like Aemond and he hated it. So dignified, so stiff, everything he had never been. “She has made a man out of me and does not even realize it.”

And he wasn’t talking about the fact that they had laid together so many times. Aemond did not know sometimes he would just lay in bed with her as she stroked his hair, tangled limbs without seeking pleasure. Her company had always been grounding and enough for him.

“Let me leave Aemond and you will see the back of me, never to be found again. I swear it.”

The younger considered the elder, biting the inside of his cheek with thought. “Come with me,” he said, not waiting before turning on his heel and going to his chambers.

Aegon followed him without thinking about it.

He felt awkward in Aemond's rooms that were just as grand as his were, though undoubtedly cleaner. Books neatly stacked on a shelf and a sword hanging besides his bed. Typical, Aegon thought.

This could be a king’s room.

Aemond was purposeful as he went to one of his draws taking out some objects. Some jewels, fine silvers and golds, before striding over to Aegon.

He tugged the bag from Aegon’s hands, opening it and without saying a word, looked into it. Humming, he sounded pleased as he unceremoniously dumped the finery in his hands into the bag before closing it again.

“That will be enough for a modest home and to start a new life in the free cities, brother.”

Aegon stared at his brother. He had expected to fight him, tear at him even if it meant he would lose whatever battle would occur between them, but never had he expected generosity.

“Leave through the hidden passage, I trust you are well acquainted with it,” Aemond instructed. “Many of the guards are outside father’s rooms on the other side of the castle after his poor health tonight. You should leave soon, dawn will be here in a few hours.”

Aegon nodded. He had the urge to do something for his brother he never had before.

“Thank you, brother.”

It was not the first time he should have thanked him. Better late than never, he supposed.

A nod from Aemond was the only acknowledgement. He would take it.

Turning to leave he moved to look at his younger brother and tilted his head down, out of respect. It was akin to a bow to a king.

“Be a better king than I would have been, Aemond. Be better than our father.”

One last look between brothers was all they had before Aegon left. For the first time he found himself missing his brother.

That late night he had found himself at the docks of King’s Landing with you in common clothes to not draw suspicion. His hair had been shaved and no one could see his Targaryen hair thank the Gods. He was glad to be rid of it.

When you got to Essos he could grow it back. No one would care about a Targaryen in Essos as he knew another was there already. He was thankful for your hand in his the entire voyage. It was the one thing that grounded him.

He thought of the small home you could fill with children, the wedding in front of a Septon pledging yourself to each other, the endless possibilities of happiness.

“Are you frightened?” you asked him on the ship. With his shaved head and common clothes, he blended into everyone else on this ship. Your hands were holding his arms as you stood on the deck, watching Westeros disappear into the night.

The land finally disappeared from his view and all left of his old life, his family and duty disappeared too. “No,” he told you in a whisper. He looks at you for the first time in what feels like nights but might have been only some minutes. Again, he thinks of the future, the humble home, the freedom, the family he wanted. “I want to make you my wife on this ship,” he says without thinking.

You smile. “With who for our witness, my love?” you tease, though you want it too. “And where is the Septon to hold the cloth over our arms while we make our solemn vowels?”

He faces you now, turning away from the sea. “We have no need for a Septon, only one another,” he says and even now he looks desperate. You wonder if it will ever leave him, the desperation to know what he wants will never leave him. But then he is ripping off a piece of his cloak, holding his arm and waiting for you to do the same. You do.

He begins to wrap your joined hands in the woolen cloth. You look up at him and somehow understand what he will say.

Father

Smith.

Warrior.

Mother.

Maiden.

Crone.

Stranger.

The cloth is around your arms and as a light shower, a drizzle really, falls down on your cheeks, but when he leans down and kisses you, the feeling of raindrops kissing your skin do not faze you. The droplets fall past his hair that has been cut so short it seems to skid right past what is left of his silver hair.

None around you on the deck seem to notice the solemn vows you had just made. Any that do glance would only see a young man and woman embracing and foolishly being outside in the rain when they ought to be asleep. “Let us rest,” you whisper to him, tugging his hand to go with you under the deck where your meager bunk is.

The piece of cloth falls from your hands. Aegon puts it in his pocket, refusing to let it disappear from his possession.

* * * * * *

The home you found was a modest one. Small enough to be humble but with enough rooms for the children he had spoken of with you. After the first night spent in a modest inn, Aegon had left you only to return with an iron key. In your hands, he pressed the key of the home you would live in while you sat on the bed. Sitting on his knees before you, he whispered, “Marry me.” Not a question, not a demand, but you smiled before agreeing anyways, taking his head in your hands for a kiss.

“We said our vowels already,” you remind him after a kiss.

“The Gods know you are mine,” he tells you, “but I want men to recognize this too.”

You can hardly protest.

Everything compared to the Red Keep and luxury he grew up in appeared humble, but everything compared to the filth of Flea Bottom was something to be marveled at to your eyes. Both your pair of eyes who had seen to much, cruelty in both squander and luxury, made you see Volantis for what it might give you.

Soon, Volantis would recognize you as man and wife. You were commoners now and there was no grand ceremony, only an room and coins in the hand of a priestess.

Somehow, many things fell into your lap easily and Aegon had met the right people at pubs, falling into friendships with merchants and owners of bars. Being a wine merchant suited him while you redirected your efforts to lesser children. With a golden band on your finger that matched his and a stomach not yet growing with a child, life had gone on easily enough for you both. Aegon had his wine merchant business where he distributed fine wines between bar owners and wine makers. Before long he was climbing up the Essossi hierarchy, but even as his social standing grew in Volantis this was nothing the dynasty he had been born into. Then again with the wealth he brought in from being a merchant of the finest wines, he supposed he had a kingdom of his own.

Before long you were not only helping orphanages and running some of them, but had children of your own. Your modest home grew and Aegon had never realized that the home would fill up so quickly and with so many children in it, two daughters and a son. It was a home full of fine things and love, something neither of you had truly had before.

Your children did not have Targaryen names, because that would be too dangerous even in the safety of the Free Cities. Alia had been first and there had not been a babe that every cried so loudly and was as fierce. Daria had been after, coming before her twin brother Dario. They were all alike in coloring having your hair so different than Aegon’s silver tresses.

His has remained cut short, not just for the safety of not looking quite like a Targaryen but for the hot and dry weather Volantis boasted. Selfishly you were pleased they had his eyes. Purple eyes were not so strange in Volantis and they could not endanger themselves.

For many years yet they would not know that they could be dragonriders, but you and Aegon decided to protect them. In Westeros they would be bastards, nothing more than the children a Targaryen Prince had whelped off of a girl who worked in the Street of Silk. But in Volantis they had a mother and father who loved them and that was all. Dragons were the last thing on their minds.

Some days Aegon still lingered in the past as much as he would not want to ever return there. But many years ago when your Daria and Dario were babes in the cradle, the news had come: the war in Westeros had ended. Prince Daemon had died by Prince Aemond’s hand, Rhaenyra left imprisoned and eventually died in her cell. With Rhaenyra’s eldest sons dead and Aegon presumed dead, Aemond had been crowned in the Sept. Her younger sons were being raised in the Red Keep and King Aemond had made Aegon the younger his heir until he had children of his own, if the rumors were true. Prince Viserys would be his cupbearer. You would be lying if you rarely listened to these rumors, but it was only for Aegon’s sake as you knew he more eagerly listened for anything of his family.

Many years after your journey to Volantis, ten exactly, your routine and family had been set in stone. The balcony in your home at the back of the property was well used by Aegon who would sometimes look at the city and sea with a strange sense of melancholy.

“Do you miss him?” you asked him from where you both stood on the balcony overlooking the busy streets of Volantis and the water down below.

His fingers gripped yours as your hand came to rest at his side. Aegon brought your intertwined fingers to rest on his chest. “On occasion,” he admits with a trace of amusement. “He has been a good king, I have heard. Fair and strong, the words I hear, strange. Kinslayer he is called and fair in the same breath. And I will never see him again. I am uncertain if I would want to.”

“He knows you did your best,” you had whispered to him, a soft smile in his direction. “Now he has done his best as we all must.”

Still, Aegon looked across the city and the water, never looking at you and gripping your fingers all the same. “Come to bed, my love,” you urge. He complies, following you to your bedroom, his hand never leaving yours.

For the past years the news came in trickles: the war and the result of Aemond on the throne, Aemond’s marriage to a Baratheon lady, Rhaenyra’s youngest sons brought into the Red Keep not as prisoners but as the King’s heir and cupbearer, Dorne being brought into the seven kingdoms (though reasons are unknown), the children by Aemond’s lady wife, and many minor things that mean little to anyone who was not the elder brother of a king.

Aegon would have a slight melancholic expression on days where such news spread throughout the town, but your daughters and son never noted such news. All that mattered to them was what went on in the school they learned at, what they and their friends loved best at the moment, the newest treat Aegon had a habit of picking up from bakeries during the week, and so on. Theirs was a simple, joyful existence and Westeros was a world away.

Until today, it seemed. Aegon had gotten back from work of the day, but he had been tired as of late. A new shipment and another contract with an owner of several fine restaurants had him rising early this week and retiring late. So as the sun begun to set he had retreated somewhere within your home, perhaps attending to the twins while Alia was by your side as you prepared dinner.

You were cutting vegetables as she placed ingredients on the table, standing on her step stool, when a careful knock was heard against the door. “Cut these, why don’t you, my darling?” you ask her, smiling down and giving her braided hair an affection rub. She is eagerly cutting the carrots when you go to the door.

Evening visitors were not uncommon. On occasion, friends of Aegon through his business had come and over time your home been known to always have a plate for any friend of the family. Aegon’s oldest, most boisterous friend from Volantis rarely knocked and yet you could never begrudge him too much.

This is no friend on the other side of the door, you realize, but two strangers. An older man in a dark brown cape and hat with the darkest eyes and a tanned complexion is at the front, while another in a darker cape has his head bowed down, so you cannot see him at all. Feeling troubled, you look back inside and are relieved to see Alia still happily cutting carrots. “Gentlemen,” you address them wearily. “Is there something I can do for you?”

You expect the first man to answer you right away but he turns his head to the tall man behind him who nods. It is only then he addresses you. “This is a delicate matter, lady,” he says hesitantly, thinking over his next words. “Might we come inside? We are looking for someone.”

You stiffen. No one calls you lady, first of all, and you were not set upon letting strange men into your home unless you knew them. “I think not,” you tell him stiffly, holding the edge of the door. “Volantis is a large place, gentlemen. I doubt I would be any help.”

Your words hold a finality that has the first man glancing at the other again worriedly, opening his mouth to refute this. But you can hardly refuse as hands are tugging your skirts from besides you.

Alia has peeked out from behind the door. Oblivious to the tension, she smiles up at you. “Mama, I cut up the carrots. Are we going to cook? Should I get papa?”

Trying not to grimace at her intrusion, you lean down to whisper urgently, “Go to your father now.”

She crunched up her face. “But you said I could cook with you!” she protests, not letting you answer before she notices the two men. “Who are they? Are they eating with us?”

“No,” you begin to say firmly but like her father, you are no match for her persuasion.

“Why not?” she looks up at you before glancing at them. To you, she poorly conceals a whisper, “What wines have they bought? Father says the people he sells to dress finely, not like that.”

“Your father,” you remind her, brows raised as you fight to not looked peeved. “Go to him if you want to cook.”

Huffing, she turns away dramatically and stomps away to where Aegon will be, oblivious to everything you are in the midst of trying to discover. In your focus of Alia you had not noticed the tall man look up at last and were caught off guard yet again when you saw the eyepatch and what’s more, the peaking of silver hair from his hood.

As the air changes around you, the expression the first man wears changes too. The man with the eyepatch does not look at you, staring at the space where your daughter once was. He seems to be putting together a puzzle as he finally looks at you.

“Who are you?” you ask him directly, but he does not move a muscle. You hum in distaste before looking at the man with the tanned complexion. With a hand on your hip, you regard him coolly. “If he tells me his name, I will let you both into my home. If he says the name I’m thinking of then you could both have dinner at my table.”

“Lady, we came not to answer riddles,” the man says with a terse tone, but is not unkind. He moves to say something else, but the man with the eyepatch speaks first.

“I am Aemond,” he says so softly, you might not have heard it if he was not he you thought.

“Our children know nothing of their father’s birthright and their parent’s pasts,” you tell him quietly. “Best to keep it that way. Come in, I will begin making dinner. He will be on the balcony.”

Both men were silent as they walked in, the first one nodding in thanks and the one you know to be Prince Aemond, or rather King Aemond, followed behind silently.

Aemond walked in slowly as he took in your quarters. It was an organized clutter, warm and inviting, all proof of a loving family that resides here. He seemed curious more than anything else as he looked around at the cups of paint that had been living on the end of the long wooden table besides the kitchen. Aegon had gifted those to Daria for her sixth name day four moons ago and she had not stopped using them at the table since.

“I will stay with the lady while you go to him,” the other man said kindly, but with sterness, almost that of a father.

Aemond said nothing but hummed, perhaps in affirmation as he took off his hood, carefully placing the cape across a chair. He moved through the room quickly, walking out of your line of sight where Aegon would be on the balcony, most likely with Alia.

“Need not call me lady, ser,” you assumed his title with your gentle manner of speaking whilst cutting the meat into pieces for the stew. “Such niceties belong in Westeros.”

“You know I am a knight?” he asks, turning to you.

“Who else would accompany a King?” you simply ask him, placing the meat in a bowl above the stove. Reaching for the seasonings to be added to the stove, you turn from him. “I lived in King’s Landing all my life, albeit a different part of the world as Aegon. Knights are common things, Kingsguard fewer.”

He says nothing but his posture begins to relax. “Ser Criston Cole, my lady,” he says at last.

“Not a lady,” you remind him, a rueful smile peaking at your lips. Sprinkling the seasons in, followed by the addition of vegetables, you let your stew simmer. “Why have you traveled with the King to Volantis?”

The second question you gaze asks is what are you going to do to us?

You had heard tales of King Aemond, the brother of your husband before you left Westeros. Dutiful, envious Aemond, Aegon likened him as he often spoke of his distaste of his brother and how it was reciprocated well. Overtime, especially once you were in Essos the insults seemed to stop. Despite the brutality you had heard of over the war you both lef tbehind, this same Aemond had let him disappear, depositing many riches in his bag before letting Aegon leave. This Aemond had also killed their uncle to secure the throne against the elder half-sister that he had imprisoned. It was difficult to hate him.

Still, how does someone trust a person like this? You daughters and son were his nieces and nephew, but maybe he wanted to make sure his elder brother’s whore and offspring could not challenge him. It was an ugly question to ask yourself and here you are, thinking it all the same.

“The Dowager Queen Alicent has been despondent as of late,” he admits with reluctance, perhaps being sworn to secrecy.

“Her health fails her?” you immediately ask him, setting down the kitchen tools you had been washing. For all the trouble Alicent had given Aegon, you knew he loved his mother and had felt leaving her was the last time he would fail her.

“Not quite,” he says, “but the truth of what has happened has recently reached her ears. His Grace had confided in me ten years ago, swearing me to secrecy for no one to know Aegon’s fate, but he recently told her.”

You squint your eyes in confusion. “She implored her son to ensure Aegon is well,” he tells you. “Aegon was her first born and has aggrieved her most of his life, but a mother’s love is rarely rational. Aemond knew only that his brother came to Volantis with a woman he planned to wed. It was difficult to track him down until we traveled to some finer establishments.”

“Nicer pubs, you mean?” you snigger at that, leaning on the counter across from him. “You mean to tell me that he will not harm our children?”

“Never,” he said, looking offended almost.

“We disappeared for a reason,” you responded, shrugging. “The children cannot know who he is, who his brother is. They are too young. Alia loves to talk. I cannot risk her telling other children of her uncle who is a King.”

“I understand,” he says and as he does, Aegon comes into the room followed by his brother.

You would be as weary as Aegon’s eyes seemed to be if not for the way Alia trailed after him, curiously peering up at the tall man. Lacking all decorum, she opened her mouth, soon to ask another question. You doubt she had stopped since she saw him for the second time on the balcony.

“Why do you have an eyepatch?” she squinted at him. “Do you not like your eyecolor? Neither do I,” she huffed at that before beginning to tell him about how her one eye was lovely, the perfect shade fo the palest lilac, but the other was greyish green, which she hated. “I would cover up mine too if I could.”

“Alia, enough,” Aegon said, though affectionately, as he place a hand on her head.

“What?” she protested, looking up at her father. “I would! Green is a stupid color, I have half a murky lake in one eye while Dario and Dario have lovely eyes. The Gods are cruel to me alone.”

“She is often dramatic like this I am afraid,” Aegon says, smiling at her.

“She gets it from her father,” you muse, urging Alia to come to you. “Come, let us cook. Your father has much to talk about without you getting every word in.”

Huffing at your words, Alia follows you nonetheless. As she stirs the pot happily, you can barely hear the words being shared.

“She sounds ill to me,” Aegon says, looking at Aemond with strangely narrowed eyes. “How long as she been so melancholic?”

“Do not pretend you are the one who has been dealing with matters of the family instead of fleeing,” Aemond replies and though Ser Coles opens his mouth to buffer this, the two men are too quick.

“If you came all this way to tell me how I failed the family speak not,” Aegon hisses at him. “There was nothing for me there.”

“Your family was not enough?” Aemond replies, though it is obvious this is not how the conversation had been meant to go.

“Do not act as though I had ever been help to our family. It is you who kept mother and Helaena together these years.”

Aemond cannot disagree with Aegon this once. “She worries for you,” he admits after a long while. “I promised her I would go with Cole to see you, so she might be content knowing you are fine, or perhaps dead in a ditch.”

Aegon coughs a laugh. “Neither are true,” he tells Aemond. “I am neither dead in a ditch or fine. I have a family. Tell mother she has additional grandchildren, a girl of eight and twins, a boy and a girl of five. Tell her that her eldest sons affinity for wine has served him well.”

“I will not,” Aemond says snidely, though a small laugh that is but a huff of breath escapes him. You do not know him but you know this is a rare thing. The air seems to relax as you glance at them. “I will tell her you have made your place as a prosperous merchant, nothing more. The mention of honeyed wine might have her on bedrest for a week, I fear.”

Aegon laughs this time and it is louder, easier than when it came from Aemond. “I would not dream of it,” he smiles with ease. After a long moment of pause he asks, “Helaena?”

He does not need ot say more as Aemond tips his head down slightly, smiling so faintly you barely noticed it. “Married to the Prince Qoren of Dorne,” he finally tells Aegon. At last, he leans back in the chair they had been sat near. “Princess Arianne of Dorne is quite fond of her good sister. Helaena’s presence made the negotiations of peace easier before talk of marriage alliances even began. Dearest Helaena intrigued the Princess and before long Qoren Martell was besotted. They too have twins, a boy and a girl.”

You never understood what people meant when they said how the weight of one’s shoulders could be lifted but you had seen it as you left Westeros behind, entered your home for the first time, and when Aegon had held Alia for the first time. Still, it has never been more powerful than when Aemond told Aegon of his sister’s happiness.

“Good,” he says, the word sounding like he was short for breath. “That is good news,” he adds on, his breath sounding sparse. Without catching his eye you smile and turn back to Alia who merrily stirs the stew.

She peers up at you, smiling eagerly as you whisper assurances and praises of her cooking. “Who is that?” she asks again, this time truly whispering as she glances at the three men.

“Old friends of your father’s,” you say easily, the lie too natural. She nods after a moment, knowing there is more but not asking.

One day you can tell her without the flurry of questions that will follow about her father’s younger brother and the knight sworn to protect them as boys and men. One day you can tell her about the dragons they rode as boys, the home her father had grown up in full of exceeding opulence that did not fill a hole in his heart. You can tell her about how her father fell into the arms of a woman and found more than she was meant to give him, but took it anyway. You could tell her about how he fell in love with someone he shouldn’t have but fled from him family and duties for her; For you.

There is a lesson in there for her ears to hear once she was older. A lesson about love, sacrifice, how happiness is not so simple and easy to achieve.

A lesson about how two brothers you loathed each other as boys still loved another in a strange way. About how one left so the other could have what he was not meant to bear. How the younger went across the sea to make sure his brother was well. These lessons were there, but you would not tell her. Not yet, anyway.

Trying not to easedrop, you watch as Alia finishes the meal and before long you are pouring it into the bowls. A fine wine, one of the ones for special occasions is brought out and the four adults drink it as your children drink water. Daria sits at the table with her brother and sister, but like her elder sister she cannot stop from looking to the man who is her uncle. She shows him the paintings she has made after the meal, laying them across the table. Aemond smiles, compliments her in a softer tone. Daria does not know he is her uncle or that he is a King. He is simply an old friend of her father’s, one that is kind and somber and listens to her and her brother babble away.

In the midst of it all your eyes meet Aegon’s and you smile too, because it is not easy, nothing is. But his brother is here and the melancholy has left Aegon for a moment. Your children do not know what this means to him and even if the brother’s cannot say it to one another, you know that this visit was not for their mother, but for Aemond himself.

* * * * * *

note: any feedback and reblogs are appreciated for this writer!!! also, might have to add another part to this at some point who knows

#aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon imagine #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x y/n

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just-horrible-things · 6 months ago

Text

‘Verse: Box Boy Universe Story: A Girl Called Spider Timeline: The day of Rayce’s unboxing

Talking [Prev]

Rayce wakes with the missed-step lurch of not having known he'd even fallen asleep. A sharp, involuntary inhalation turns instantly into a coughing fit as the air itself seems to scrape his throat and lungs raw.

It's dark – or it was, until the new light woke him up – and that new light is warm like a normal lamp, not Facility white. For a few heart-thudding seconds, he isn't sure he isn't home, isn't waking from godawful nightmare into safety.

Then the Pet is there. The one who drowned him.

He still can't believe it. A Pet – one of his own sweet trainees even – turning fucking – psycho horror villain? If it weren't for the burn in his lungs with every hacking cough, he'd think it was another drugged, disjointed nightmare.

He swallows wet, sticky phlegm and tries to get his breathing under control. The light from the door at the top of the stairs behind her isn't that bright, but after the darkness it still leaves Rayce squinting through watering eyes.

The shadow casts the Pet’s face into darkness, and for a second she could be Handler Sharan – they're about the same size – except Sharan would never move like that. She stops about a body's length from Rayce, and looks down at him. The metal edge of the shelf behind him digs harder into his back.

The Pet is freshly washed, again, long hair still wet and heavy and clinging to her skin. The slight tousle to it is deliberate, they taught her that in the same classes as makeup. “I think we started out on the wrong foot, Handler.” Her voice is skin-soft and full of gentle contrition. “Can we start over?”

It takes Rayce a groggy second to realise she expects a response, and another few to remember all over again that there's no bit between his teeth. He opens his mouth, feeling the cracked scabs at the corners shift, then closes it again.

What does she want him to say? Start over? She drowned him. What does she want from him?

When he swallows – painfully – the collar feels very tight around his neck.

The Pet folds her hands behind her back and settles her weight onto one foot. Her pose is straight out of the manual, hips canted, back subtly arched to push her breasts forward. They worked hard on making it look thoughtless.

“I know,” she says. “I hurt you.” Soft voice, soft doe eyes in the gloom, soft regret on gently frowning lips. Everything soft, but Rayce can still feel the semicircles her nails dug into his skin. “But… you hurt me, Handler. Over… and over. I don't think it's unfair of me to be upset.”

The things she said before are starting to come back to him. Her anger.

“It was my job.” His voice comes out as a wavering croak. “I'm sorry, I tried to be as –” cough “-- as nice to you as I could. It’s the job, it's how Pets are trained, I didn't –” cough “-- hurt you much, only when I had to.”

He never hurt her like they hurt him, he never hurt any trainee like that, he would never.

The Pet is silent for slightly too long – or maybe his idea of time is still just fucked, he isn't sure.

“I know,” she says at last. Softly still, softly. He doesn't trust that softness. “You were nice to me. But you still hurt me.” “Only to teach you.” Cough, cough, swallow. “I just wanted you to be the best Pet you could be, to do well.” The words are thick and coarse and lumpen in his aching throat, like trying to swallow a mouthful of dirt. “It's what you signed up for.”

“Handler.” There's a new note in her voice, something sharper and almost sing-song that makes his gut clench. “Pet. Didn’t you sign up for this too?” “No. No, no, listen, pretty girl, I’m not – can’t you tell, I still remember you, I’m not a real Pet –” “Oh, Handler. Didn’t you always tell me I was clever?” Did he? You’re not supposed to tell them that, they’re not supposed to believe that, but – she was clever. He might have said so. He didn’t think it was important. “Do you really think I didn’t know that I didn’t sign up to be hurt?”

She kneels elegantly in front of Rayce, pushing wet hair back from her face with practiced grace. He hasn’t got an answer. His lungs ache, leaving him breathless but afraid to breathe too deep.

“Did you really think I didn’t know that it doesn’t matter?” “I’m not supposed to be here,” he repeats plaintively. “I’m not a real Pet…” “You are.” Her soft almost-sympathy is nothing like Sharan’s hard, contemptuous certainty but it’s exactly the same. Rayce almost can’t hear her next words through the wall of buzzing static rising abruptly in his brain. “Bought and paid for, just like me.”

Tears sting the backs of his eyes. His teeth clack against each other where he expects hard rubber to bite down on. His insides churn and he can’t breathe.

The girl – the trainee – the Pet inches closer, wide dark eyes holding his with suffocating intensity.

“Where’s –” he tries “-- where’s your – our – owner…” “I don’t know. I don’t tell him where to go.” “I want …” But even the thought peters out. She doesn’t have to tell him. Pets don’t get to want.

She reaches out to his face, and his flinch knocks his head back against the stacked cans behind him. A wave of paralytic dread floods through him, drenching his skin with yet another layer of sweat. The Pet flinches too, just a hesitant twitch of her hand. Then, as Rayce holds statue-still and not breathing, she lays her fingers gently against his cheek.

He thinks of biting her. He feels sick. He doesn’t move a millimetre.

“There’s so much I’ve wanted to say to you,” she breathes. “Now that you’re here… I don’t know where to start.” She leans in. Her lips ghost across his. His skin crawls. When she takes her hand off him he gasps for air. The metal shelf bites deeper as he slides himself sideways, away from her.

#my writing #bbu #a girl called spider #654261: spider #handler rayce #I realise nothing much happens in this one #but I ran out of words #and figured better to post half a thing than leave half a thing in my drafts with all the other wips

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memobread · 2 years ago

Text

𝕴'𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊 - 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖔𝖓𝖊 -- (𝕵𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝕯𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖘 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗)

=================================

Contents: 1994! Jonathan Davis x reader (tag empty asf), HEAVY mentions of s*xual and mental ab*se, smutty smut, friends to lovers, TONS of fluff, angst, insane amounts of GORE, very violent language, violence, drug and alcohol use, etc.

Honorable mention: @jonathandaviskisser

=================================

~~find my nest full of salt…everything's my fault…~~

Kurt Cobain soothed my weary mind as I lugged my last load down interstate 110, trying not to pass out at the steering wheel. I dreamed of starting my two-week winter break with a sweet night at Wes's, an underground bar below a gas station that sold inexpensive but effective products, my favorite kind. I was in desperate need of a cigarette, just like after any long busy day of trucking. Once I got to the designated location, I heaved off the supplies and signed a few papers. Once I got back in my truck, I sighed in relief. I would have the next two weeks off for winter break. All that was left to do was to go to Wes's and drink the night away. Once I arrived at Wes's through a rough, snowy highway, I filled my truck with gas, parked it in a safe spot, and stopped under the store's awning to look at the snowy night sky. It was strangely beautiful to me, even though it was pitch-black under the streetlamps. I suddenly remembered this was the weekly night that hillbilly Joe Singleton and his wife go on a frenzy of religious insanity. I wanted to kill them both, so I avoided them to keep myself from doing so. I quickly ran inside when I heard their radio blasting behind me. I grabbed a Heath bar from the shelf near me and made my way to the register, waving to the cashier, my best friend, Mikey.

"Damn y/n, you runnin' from the devil or sumn'?" Mikey asked, slightly concerned.

"Yeah, man. Joe and Monica came here to unleash hell." I whispered, keeping an eye out for them.

Mikey leaned forward on locked arms.

"Don't worry about it so much, Y/N. They dumber than rats on PCP."

Mikey knew about my anxiety. He never failed to help me calm down with his humor. He's always been my human antidepressant ever since we were teenagers.

"They came in here earlier today bitchin' at me because we sell pot here." Mikey laughed, putting on his red baseball cap.

Mikey did a typical redneck pose and stuck a rolled-up receipt in his mouth,

"And-And they was all like-"

Mikey slammed his fist down onto the table, a mocking look of disgust.

"YOUSE ALL GOIN' STRAIGHT TO HELL WITH YOUR DEVIL HIPPIE SHIT!!! GOD CAINT STAND FOLK LIKE YOU!!!"

I cracked up laughing, my nerves disappearing mostly.

"Man, when will they accept that the Aryan race isn't a thing anymore!" I laughed, leaning forward on the counter.

That's when Mikey burst out into laughter, playfully slapping me.

"Jesus Christ Y/N…" He wheezed, unable to keep a straight face for even a quarter of a second.

While our laughing fit was happening, we didn't notice Joe and his whore wife hearing our conversation. Joe threw a dime at me to get my attention. My smile instantly faded. Mikey cussed under his breath. We both turned to face the two cunts. They looked as aggravating as ever.

"You two won't be sayin' that shit in the lake of fire, imma tell you that!" Joe snapped, stepping towards us.

Mikey looked like he was about to commit mass homicide.

"Great! I'll see you two there, cocksuckers!" Mikey fumed, flipping Joe the bird.

Joe lunged at Mikey, to which I responded by kicking him in the stomach, making him fall to the floor. Mikey jumped over the counter and started beating the living hell out of Joe while the whore made a beeline for me. I tackled her down and repeatedly punched her with all my might, forcing an annoying squeal out of her. It was the best I had felt in a long time since she reminded me of my mother. It was like I was trying to kill my past. Mikey held off Joe while I got up and stomped on the whore's face repeatedly, blood starting to ooze from her annoying nose. I was laughing while the whore screamed in pain, unable to fight me off. I got back onto her and plunged my fingers down her throat, thrusting them in and out at an inhumane pace until she started vomiting on herself. Nearly screaming with maniacal laughter, I took my vomit-ridden fingers and plunged them back into her throat, making her swallow her vomit. My elbow plummeted to her face, her eye exploding into seeping red. All the memories of her groping Mikey, aiding my mom in assaulting me, stealing my cigarettes, and reminding me of my mother fueled my primal rage while I beat her senseless. I felt like I was taking revenge on my mother; a wave of utter bliss and satisfaction washed over me, causing me to burst out in shrieking laughter before plunging my fingers into her eyes. She burst into tears and screaming when I fingered her eye sockets like my mother did when my brother broke her glasses. Blood spurted out of her eyes and onto my cheek, my maniacal shrieks only getting louder.

"YEAH!!! YEAH!!! TAKE THESE FUCKING FINGERS IN YOUR BLOODY HOLES, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT SLUT!!!" I got up and stomped on her bloody, snot-and-vomit-ridden ugly face.

Tears streamed down her bloody face when she wailed;

"No! Please stop it now! I've d…done *cough* nothin-"

Already having enough of Monica's shit, I jumped up and plummeted back down, my elbow making a beeline for her face before it crashed through her thick skull with all my body weight. I swear I nearly peed myself with joy when I heard her skull crack and a pig-like squeal, followed by loud sobbing and thick, metallic blood soaking my sleeve. I dove onto her and slammed my tight, rock-solid fist into her bloody mess of a face multiple times, each punch getting more lethal. When I looked up, not noticing my surroundings, Mikey knocked Joe unconscious with a bottle of Busch and dragged him back to his car.

"Hold her down with me, Mike!"

Mike rushed over to me and the dying bitch on the floor and gleefully held her wrists above her head.

"Yeah, fuck her up!!" Mikey shouted, spitting on her face before getting up and stomping on it.

"P…Please…..Joe….Joe made me do it…."

"Bullshit!"

In a fit of blind rage, I grabbed Mikey's broken bottle and plunged into Monica's face, lacerating the soft, pink tissue under a chalky burlap sack, blood spurting onto my face. I gave the bottle to Mikey with a bloody grin. He snickered and shredded the bottle side to side in the bitch's torn face, a tent growing in his jeans.

"Wait, wait, Y/N, hold her down for a sec." Mikey panted before standing up and unzipping his fly.

Mikey groaned in pleasure and relief when he pulled out his unit and started pissing on Monica. He and I both laughed maniacally at the humiliation.

"Yo Y/N, you think we should string this bitch upside down from the roof and have folks have their way with her for tips?"

Before I could agree, I felt a thick rope fling around my neck from behind; Joe woke up.

"Shit!" Mikey shouted, trying to fight off Joe but getting kicked by him square in the bare nuts.

Mikey howled in pure agony, his gonads obliterated and his eyes watering.

"Nobody fuckin' touches my wife…" Joe snarled, too shellshocked by anger to yell.

I kicked helplessly against my oxygen restraint, trying to pull off the rope while not being able to reach any punching points on Joe. With merely a few factors of dying, I accepted my fate; I had always wanted this, but I didn't want it to be then. I was having too much fun. My vision started to blur, and my head started racing with memories as Mikey's cries became more distant and inaudible. I flailed in Joe's grip and heard him laugh amid my panic.

"This is what you fuckin' get, slut…"

When I felt like I was a few seconds away from dying, I suddenly heard a loud crack, and I felt glass tumbling down my face and into my lap. Joe's grip went limp instantly, and I started coughing.

"Fucking piece of shit…" I heard a familiar voice spit.

I felt Joe getting hauled out under me, and my head hit the floor, awakening me a bit. With my vision blurry, I could only make out a tall blurry figure with long, dark brown hair kneeling over me.

"…c'mon…" The figure murmured, seeing me struggle to clear my vision.

Once my vision started to clear up, the familiar features of the figure became evident. The pretty, deep inky eyes, the heart-wrenching dorky face, the frazzled long hair; it was none other than Jonathan Davis in the flesh. He was the cute boy I worked at the Fritz warehouse with in high school. He was always shy and never talked to anyone except me. The second we met each other, we hit it off instantly like we needed to be best friends. We would laugh together about the shit we saw in magazines or what we wanted to do when we got older. We would play video games together at the local arcade, and Jon would always beat me at Street Fighter, and I'd have to carry him home as a losing punishment. We would even hang out in a nearby alleyway and eat Chinese food while looking at the smoky sky and talking nonsense.

Yeah Y/N, I kinda wanna start a band, but this job doesn't pay shit for equipment…

Eventually, I fell in love with him, MADLY in love with him. I haven't spent a living second without thinking about him since.

He's so fucking cute-

"Hey!"

I snapped out of my dream-like state, bursting into a coughing fit, aiming my spurting blood away from Jon.

"Shit!" I heard Jon's voice again.

I wasn't hallucinating.

"Agh…fuck…" Mikey's voice trailed closer to where Jon and I were.

Mikey ran to Jon and me once he saw me coughing.

"Oh my god, Y/N!"

Hacking out my last bit of blood, I turned to Jon, shit-and-blood-faced, drooling everywhere. Jon couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Is that…y-*cough*you, Jon?"

"Um…yeah… You look kinda familiar…"

Oh god, please don't fuck this up…

I prayed that he recognized me.

"It's Y/N from high school, remember?"

At that moment, Jon analyzed me, processing the two versions of me. When he realized who I was, his face lit up, morphing the prettiest, most heart-wrenching smile known to the universe. I flung my arms around him and buried my face in his shoulder. Just as shocked as I was, he squeezed me back, providing a comfort I had never received from anyone else.

"I missed you so much…" I whispered into his shoulder, rubbing his back.

Burying his face in my hair and running his fingers through it, Jon said,

"I missed you too, Y/N…a lot…"

Jon hugged me tighter, nuzzling into my hair and groping at my back, leaving no space between us. I swear I almost fell asleep in his warm embrace until Mikey said,

"Yo…uh… Jon?"

Jon lifted his head, all flushed and full of serotonin.

"…mm?"

"You uh… you know Joe?"

Jon chuckled and pulled back a little, still keeping his arm slung around my shoulders.

"Oh, that sister-fucking piece of shit? He narced me and a meth dealer and nearly got us thrown in jail. If his wife hadn't fucked up the evidence on accident."

"Jesus, man…"

"Y-Y'know I was trying to quit, I really was, and I did! I fucking-"

I found myself completely zoning out, only listening to Jon's attractive voice, staring at the veins in his hands, his side profile, his dorky smile, his adorable laugh… I wanted him.

I need him so badly. I need him to know about my feelings for him. I need to-

"Y/N!"

I jolted awake, still semi-conscious and dreaming of Jonathan.

"Shit-sorry…" I coughed, my spit slightly red.

"Oh no no no it's fine Y/N, take your time." Jon wiped my teary eyes with his thumbs.

"Nah you're good Y/N, I was jus' gonna ask if you and Jon're ready t' go to Wes's."

"Oh yeah, mmhmm…" I said.

Jon helped me up, keeping a hint of his cute smile.

"So uh… what's your name?" Jon asked Mikey as we walked to the secret entrance to Wes's.

"Oh, I'm Mikey; I'm a friend of Y/N's."

Jon hummed before Mikey led him and me into the storage cabinet behind the front counter. I entered the code into the number pad attached to the trapdoor on the floor; 110192837. I pried the door with the broomstick handle next to me; the only way to open it.

"Damn, guys! This is insane!" Jon exclaimed, impression dusting his pretty face.

"Yeah, the owner designed this; it's pretty fuckin' cool," I said before stepping aside to let Jon and Mikey go in.

The second Jon held my hips to help me down the ladder I nearly had a full-blown panic attack due to how completely and helplessly flustered I was by this man. Even one tiny touch can send me spiraling into insanity. His grip on my hips was so tight, but not to the point where it hurt, but to an extent when I felt protected.

"Oooooh Y/N's blushing!!!" Mikey jeered like a teenage girl.

"Pr-probably because I almost just got murked." I lied, a slight stutter and a hint of nervousness in my voice.

Mikey scoffed and led us down the dim tunnel to the venue. My mind raced, wondering if Jon noticed my mannerism and thought I didn't like him touching me. Once we reached the entrance to the venue Mikey knocked on the door. Jon looked a little distraught. With one overreaching thought came another, then another, and so goddamn forth.

I acted so fucking nervous around him before he left, does he think I hate him, or does he hate me now? Does he even-…No. He was happy to see me, but why is he-

"Hey, Mike, who's this zesty Raggedy Ann lookin-"

"He's a friend of Y/N's, calm the fuck down." Mikey interrupted the bouncer, stepping forward slightly.

The bouncer, Jim, pursed his lips and lowered his eyes to me with dangerous intentions.

"He a friend or what?"

Clearing my throat, I said calmly,

"Yes, he's with us, I promise."

Jim's nostrils flared, and he pursed his lips again.

"Come in."

We hurried inside, avoiding Jim's death glare. The place was just as I remembered; dimly lit, with a touch of gray in everything, a putrid odor of meth and piss in one particular spot, but the rest smelled like sandalwood and cigarettes.

"Wanna go to the bar?" I asked Jon.

Jon obliged, and we slinked to the bar while Mikey trailed off toward a leopard-print-clad chick. We awkwardly sat down, and I waved to the bartender.

"Oh hey, Y/N! Who's this guy?" The bartender, Sid, asked me.

"Oh I'm Jonathan; I'm Y/N's old friend," Jon said.

"Always nice to see newcomers who aren't pieces of shit! Anything you want, Jonny Boy?"

Jon chuckled.

"Just a rum and coke, please."

"Oh, Y/N, you want that too?"

"Oh yeah, thanks, man," I replied awkwardly.

Sid walked off, leaving Jon and me alone. I nervously shifted slightly in my chair before asking,

"So, uh…you're in a band now, huh? That's pretty cool!" I said, screaming at myself not to sound so awkward.

"Oh yeah I started Korn last year after Sexart broke up, and we're doing pretty great!"

"Oh, I saw you guys in concert, all of you are just so talented, I swear to god."

"Wait, what? Why didn't you come to say hi?"

My head hurt with negative anticipation.

"I…I didn't wanna intrude on anything or piss off security…"

Fuck.

I swear I nearly burst into tears when Jon looked slightly hurt. I felt god awful, but my misspeaking was hard to take back.

"I-I mean, I really wanted to, but-"

"Y/N, this whole 'band' thing hasn't made me into some posh asshole! You can come up and say hi to me after shows! There isn't even that much security!"

I froze, trying not to cry as I watched my world crumble around me. I hurt someone I loved more than anything else to ever exist like an incompetent piece of garbage. I couldn't speak, or else I would start crying.

Okay, why is Jon so pissed off and why am I such a FUCKING IDIOT?!

Jon scoffed and turned back away from me, taking his rum and coke from Sid, who slid a second one over to me.

"Whoa, whoa Y/N! Are you alright?" Sid noticed me trying with all my strength to hold back tears.

"I-……I'm okay…" I choked out, my voice cracking.

"No you're not Y/N, what's wrong?"

I needed to lie somehow.

"M…My pet cat needs to get surgery, and I'm just-"

I burst into loud sobs in front of Jon, even though I didn't have a cat. Sid rubbed my back and said,

"Aw, Y/N, the vets here are great, okay? Your cat's gonna be fine, promise."

I looked up at Sid, tears still streaming down my red face.

"Here, Y/N, just drink the worries away, and you and your cat will be alright…"

I nodded, taking a sip of my rum and coke and slipping Sid five dollars.

"Th…Thanks…"

Once Sid left, I turned back to Jonathan, who was rubbing his temples and running his fingers through his dreads.

I hate myself so much…

Jon turned back to me, a troubled look on his face.

"Y/N, please look at me."

Fuck.

Reluctantly, I slowly turned to face him, my face red and wet with tears and snot. Jon knit his brow and lowered his head when he saw what he did.

"I…I'm so sorry, Y/N…I just…This whole 'fame' thing, it just…"

Jon set his hands on my knees.

"*sniff* It's really okay, Jon. You don't need to apologize."

Jon clasped his hands around my face, cupping and caressing it.

"Y/N, look at yourself! Of course I need to apologize! I hurt my best friend!"

"Jon, it's *sniff* okay, I know what fame can do to someone…" I sniffled, wiping my tears.

Jon sighed, taking his hands off my face and sipping his drink.

"Yeah… it's been god-awful, but that doesn't mean I just get to bitch at everyone." Jon said, setting his drink down.

"I know… But I'll let you bitch at me just this once." I said, attempting to lighten the mood.

Jon snickered, turning back to me.

"You should drink that before it gets warm."

I nodded and took a giant sip, feeling the sting of alcohol rush into my sinuses, starting to cleanse them of horrible thoughts. Jon cleared his throat.

"Yeah, I have security on my ass 24/7, I can't fucking go anywhere without being bombarded by fuckin' fans, I got fuckin' bruises from being tossed around during concerts, and I just-…"

Jon trailed off and ran his fingers through his hair, his brow knitting again in frustration.

"I needa stop drinking, but nobody likes me when I'm sober…"

My heart dropped into my shoes.

This can't be happening…He deserves so much better…I need to get him out of this…

I scooched over to Jon and wrapped him in a big bear hug, cradling his head to my breast while he clenched his arms around my waist for dear life. Even though I hated seeing him like this, I loved holding him so much. The side of his face resting against my chest while he held my waist flooded my stomach with butterflies.

His hair, oh my god…

Even though it was in dreadlocks, it was still soft to the touch, and it was so satisfying to scratch at his scalp, making him hum through sobs.

He's so adorable it hurts…

Jon looked up at me with red, glossy eyes.

"Jeez, it's like you never left…"

I smiled and nuzzled his head before taking another sip of my rum and coke. I was starting to loosen up.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't get ahold of you. I tried, I really did…" I whispered into his dreads.

Jon pulled away and held my hands.

"I know, so did I, but this whole fucking-…"

Jon trailed off, realizing he was repeating himself.

"Well, you have me now, and I have you," I said, trying to calm the mood again.

Jon turned back to me.

"I'm so glad I do…"

Over the next few hours, we continued laughing with each other through drinks, catching up and talking about what was happening within the past few years.

"Hehe…Yeah, I remember one time; Head got so fucked up on stage he pulled down his pants and humped his guitar…"

"Whoa, what the hell? Did you guys get banned or something?"

Jon laughed.

"Oh no, no; it was a chill venue…The guys were mad though."

I finished my rum and coke, setting the glass down, my nerves relaxed.

"Y-You guys were so fucking good in concert, like…I was afraid you were having a seizure or something, just turns out you're really fucking talented…"

"Nah, we're alright; we're just really *chuckle*, we're just really fucked up in the head, that's all…" Jon laughed, flashing his pretty smile yet again.

We continued laughing and talking until the dancefloor lit up in the center of the venue. All of a sudden, "Loser" started playing.

"Oh my GOD, I love this song…" I said, turning around to get ready to leave.

"Oh man, me too…You wanna dance?" Jon asked, hopping off the stool and extending his hand for me to take it.

I happily obliged, taking Jon's sweet hand and traveling smoothly with him to the dancefloor. The song started with us swaying next to each other, grooving to the beat, but when the beat dropped, Jon and I threw our heads forward and started headbanging, swaying around like headless chickens. But then again, so was everyone else.

"SOYYYYYYYYYY UN PERDEDORRRRRRRRRRR IM A LOSER BABYYYYYYYY SO WHY DON’T YOU KILL MEEEEE…."

"GET CRAZY WITH THE CHEEZ WHIZZ!!!"

Jon and I nearly screamed the lyrics while getting fucked up on straight dopamine.

It feels so good to have this much fun without getting blackout drunk…"

We danced through "Fucking Hostile," "Pull the Plug," "Enjoy the Silence," and god-knows-what-else, and spun ourselves silly. During "Total Eclipse of the Heart," Jon motioned for me to come into his arms. Of course, I obliged, blushing profusely, and he took me into his arms, swaying me side to side with my arms around his torso and his on my upper back.

He's so pretty up close…

His vantablack eyes twinkled with the dim lights, as did his soft features.

Right here is the most kissable motherfucker alive.

Without thinking, I tightened my arms around Jon and laid my head on his chest. He was taken aback at first when he suddenly loosened his grip but held me tighter as if he was trying to keep me as his. I laid my head on his chest and listened to Jon's heartbeat, which ran faster than Bullet Bill on speedball and steroids.

Am I doing anything wrong, or does he want me too?

Suddenly, I heard a loud crash and glass shatter everywhere.

"Get the fuck out now!"

I swiveled around to see Joe and Monica, both mutilated to unrecognition. Monica had jumped behind the bar counter and knocked over all the alcohol on the shelves, and Joe stood beside her, holding a lighter. Monica saw Jon and I and lunged at us.

"Jesus!"

Monica smacked me down before swinging at me with floppy fists, clocking me square in the nose. Jon tried to help me, but Joe tackled him, socking him in the stomach. I threw Monica off me and tried to kick Joe off of Jon, crying out for backup.

"Hey! Someone help us!"

As soon as those words left my lips, a stampede of beefy men and angry intoxicated girls came to our aid. Joe got knocked down, instantly thrown against the wall and socked in the face hard. I could only watch in awe as Joe, a man I couldn't even look in the eye, was effortlessly shredded to pieces.

"You heretics!"

Those words were Joe's last words before a guy grabbed a spoon and started digging out Joe's eyeballs, turning his swears into breathy screams and sobs. Watching the scene unfold, I prompted myself to grab another old spoon and lunge at Monica, who was sitting on the floor screaming at the men to stop, not doing shit about her dying husband. I tackled her to the floor and took a broken bottle, contorting her squirming body before ripping off her shirt and piercing the flesh of her thin abdomen, a pocket of thick blood bursting from the laceration and making her vocal chords raspy with how much she screamed. A random guy pinning her down with me, I got up, got a running head start, and plummeted onto her face, the heels of my boots bursting her eyeballs and nose with red, slimy fluid.

"Y/N please just stop! This won't bring back the little pussy, Chris, you called a brother!"

She did not…

Monica had the nerve to put the name of my brother she drove to suicide into her mouth. She tormented him relentlessly, telling him nobody loved him, pretending to kill his imaginary friends, and used his autism to make him do whatever she wanted, including sexual favors.

C'mon Christopher, be a man and fuck me! You don't want Whizzy to be sad, do you? He would just LOVE to see your porn star dick before he DIES OF CANCER!! Now come on, you little fa-

The memories flooded back to me of Monica's abuse towards Chris and how I was too young to fight back against her. I didn't understand that he didn't want it.

And now Chris's bones are still hanging in his bedroom…

With tears pricking at my eyes I got up, allowing Monica to hobble to her feet, a smirk teasing at her face.

Now's my chance to show Chris I love him…

Stepping up closer to Monica, my nostrils flared slightly.

"I hate you."

Monica scoffed.

"Oh really? You weren't saying that when I bought you pizza after your brother ate my pussy like he was starving! I just know he liked it when I used a little…FORCE on him, is all!"

"Chris wanted you dead."

Monica cackled, slapping her thigh before getting all up in my face.

"Then why was he so eager to fuck me and give me ALL his money when I was the only one that could save his little imaginary friend? That motherfucker needed me!"

Monica stepped closer to me.

"And all you and Chris could say was 'we love you Monica!'"

At that moment, I lost all means of composure, adrenaline shooting through my veins and my eyes red and wide as saucers. My blood was searing through my skin; it needed to dart my hands at Monica.

She's gonna regret even LOOKING at Chris.

Using one-hundred percent of my strength effortlessly, I seized Monica by the throat and slammed her down WWE-style to the floor. One of the guys pinning her down, I grabbed my spoon.

"No! Please!"

I cackled, followed by a harsh smack to her face.

"You were talking so much shit just a minute ago, and now you're crying like a little FUCKING BITCH for me to stop?"

Monica loved using that line with Chris.

"I'm sorry!" Monica cried, trying to slap my hands away.

I got up and stomped on her throat.

"Bullshit!"

I got back down and positioned my spoon at Monica's left eye.

"Chris would be so fuckin' happy to see this…"

I spread apart Monica's cyan-pigmented eyelids and started wedging the rusty spoon into her cornea, earning another strained scream from her.

"Y-You don't have to do this!" Monica tried pushing me away again.

The guy holding her down landed a violent smack to her face.

"Shut up, bitch."

I shot him a friendly smile through all my anger before slowly digging my spoon into Monica's eye again.

"Hey y'all, come watch this!"

The people who killed came and watched me torture Monica.

"Fuuuck, this is gonna be so good…"

I jabbed my spoon behind her eye, more blood seeping into the well of the spoon. At that point, Monica couldn't even scream anymore; all I heard was the attendees cheering. Deep red hues pricked and teased into the whites of her eyes while I pushed the spoon deeper, her eyeball emerging from her socket and out from under her decorated eyelids. I yanked the spoon, dislodging her eye and earning loud cheers. I stood up on top of Monica's retching body.

"Alright, who wants to keep the eyeball?"

Almost everyone raised their hands excitedly.

"Alright, let's see here…"

I chose a short girl in the back because she and I both liked Cannibal Corpse.

"You, in the Cannibal Corpse shirt! Catch!"

The girl squealed with joy as I ripped the nerve and threw her the bloody eyeball. I dug out the other eye and threw it to a big guy wearing no shirt and covered in tattoos, to which he responded by laughing,

"You crazy as shit!"

He and a group of guys came up to Monica and I.

"May we?"

"Sure!"

I stepped back and watched the scene unfold, my body trembling with sheer dopamine. One guy had picked her up by the wrists with ONE hand and hung her from a ceiling beam like a piñata. I grabbed a half-drank Heineken left on the floor and looked for Jon when the men had their ways with Monica, violating her in every manner, from sexually to emotionally, to straight-up physically.

"Yeah, take this fucking knife in your saggy ass, you brother-fucking cow!"

"Tsk…making my bro fuck your fishy cunt when you can't even suck dick? What a fucking ingrate…"

"I bet you had your first time with your dad, you little pissy shit-whore slut!"

I took another sip of my beer, getting into the closet where the exit was.

I need to find Jon soon…

I was about to leave when I got called back to where the guys and Monica were.

"Yo! You in the closet! Come out here you crazy motherfucker!"

I opened the door to see every attendee, including Sid, forming an aisle leading me to Monica's now naked and mutilated body. She was barely holding onto life.

"Will you do the honors?" One of the men asked, holding out a dull, rusty box cutter.

I happily obliged, approaching Monica while drawing the box cutter.

"Monica…"

All she could do was cough up semen and blood.

"You may think you're hot shit and that all the poor men you manipulated are groveling at your feet…"

I stepped closer.

"But all you are is a fucking disease that they just happened to catch."

I angrily drew the blade to her throat.

"…and I'm the cure."

I jabbed the blade deep into Monica's jugular vein and ripped it through pale flesh all the way to the other side, almost completing a 360. The bar attendees cheered while they watched Monica choke and bleed pathetically down her face. I dropped the boxcutter like a microphone and stood in the crowd to watch Monica die, finishing my beer. I earned pats on the back and cheers of my name.

"Damn bro, you fucked her up!"

"MAD respect, dawg."

Turns out I wasn't the only one Monica messed with.

I want to see Jon.

Nudging my way through the crowd, I exited the bar through the closet. Once I reached the snowy surface, I saw Jon sitting in the alleyway where we used to hang out.

"Jon!"

He turned to me, flashing his pretty smile.

"Hi Y/N!"

I hurried over to him and sat down next to him.

"Why'd you leave?"

Jon sighed, his smile fading slightly.

"It was just…too much."

I immediately went to comfort him. I hated seeing Jon like this.

"Oh no I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry I didn't look for you or fu-"

Jon put a finger to my lips.

"It's okay, Y/N! You need to stop apologizing so damn much…"

Jon chuckled, putting his arm around me. I laid my head against his shoulder and looked up at the snow. It was strangely beautiful to me.

"Besides, it wasn't even your fault! That bitch had it coming." Jon said, snuggling into me a little more.

I chuckled.

"Couldn't've said it better myself…"

I yawned, and without thinking, I wrapped my arms around Jon and buried my face in his neck. He pulled away slightly, taken aback and flushed.

Fuck!

I pulled away as well, scrambling to give Jon space.

"Shit, I'm sorry…"

Jon immediately scrambled back to me.

"Oh no, no, no, no I didn’t-…I mean I-…I liked it!"

My heart jumped out of my throat and into his hands.

"Oh…uh..."

Y/N, you idiot…

Jon broke the awkward silence by asking,

"Y/N, I'm just gonna say this straight up because I need to know; Do you love me?"

I froze, shellshocked by what I heard. Without holding back, I drunkenly blurted,

"Yes, Jonathan! I love you so much. I can't even spend a living minute without thinking about you! You're the only thing giving me hope in life, and I hope I did too with yours. You know why? Because I fucking love you! I would go through a fate worse than hell for you! I would give up everything in my life just to see your…BEAUTIFUL smile! Every night I hug my pillow and pretend it's you, and it's the only way I can sleep! I would do anything for you! I would buy you anything and everything I can't afford! I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU!"

Jon's face got burnt to a crisp. He never given that kind of dedication from anyone other than his mother.

"Y/N, I…" Jon stuttered, shifting in his place.

I scooched back, my eyes burning with tears.

I just ruined my relationship with him, like I ALWAYS FUCKING DO! I ruin everything!

"I'm really sorry, Jon. I'll leave you alone."

Before I could leave, Jon instantly grabbed me and pulled my face an inch from his, holding it in deep devotion.

"I love you too, Y/N."

He pulled me in and connected his soft lips to mine.

HOLY FUCK, WHAT?

My stomach jumped out of my anus, and my head raced.

Is it getting hot out here, in this snowy weather?

I hugged around his upper back and pulled myself in closer to Jon, deepening the kiss. He hummed, moving one of his hands to the back of my head, taking off my hat before scratching and massaging my scalp.

He's so perfect…

I moved my hand up to his head, letting go of all my nerves completely. I buried my fingers in his dreads and caressed his soft cheek with my thumb. Jon wrapped his legs around me to get closer, more blush spreading across my cheeks. I buried myself into him, wrapping my jacket inside his so there would be no space between us. Jon broke the kiss, still holding me in the cuddly position.

"You're a good kisser, Y/N."

I smiled, nuzzling his cute nose.

"So are you, Jonathan Howsmon Davis."

Jon giggled and pulled me in closer with his legs, shifting me over so my back was against the brick wall.

"I love you so much, Y/N. I always have…"

I pecked his lips.

"I love you more."

Jon kissed me again, this time a little more passionate, turning the kiss into a sweet makeout session.

I feel so safe under him…

Jon pulled away.

"You look so flustered, isn't this what you wanted?"

I stammered,

"Oh no, no, I want this, it's just…"

Jon cocked his head to the side.

"You're so fuckin pretty, it hurts." I finished my sentence, pulling him in for a harder kiss.

Jon kissed me back, grunting as he shifted more onto me, pinning me against the brick wall. He squished my face into his with his hands, starting to eat at my lips a little.

I need him so bad…

I moved my hands to his hair and face when he moved his to the small of my back, enveloping me into him and allowing me to bring him closer. His skin was softer than anything ever felt under my calloused fingertips. His hair was so long and frizzy; I could hold onto it for hours. EVERYTHING about this man was absolutely perfect in every way.

"I've been wanting this for so long…" I breathed in between kisses, lost in his pretty face up close.

Jon smiled again, nuzzling into me and pecking my red cheek.

"Me too."

We continued to lazily make out, snuggled in each other's jackets and making up for all the missed time we could have spent together. I felt like I could disappear into his arms and snuggle him forever. Jon's fuzzy hair surrounded my face while he straddled my lap and held my head sweetly. Our noses and eyelashes fluttered on each other under large snowflakes, more slow songs playing in the background. When we weren't kissing and nuzzling, we just gazed into each other's pretty eyes for a few seconds before kissing again.

He's so soft…

Jon pulled an unopened beer from his jacket pocket and cracked it open against the wall. He took a sip before offering me the bottle, to which I obliged to him feeding me like that. From then on, gentle beer kisses and sweet nothings got shared between us. As we finished the bottle, there was more tipsy shifting and growing lustful tension, both of us wanting more than just cuddles.

"My pretty baby…" Jon murmured before tilting my head backwards and planting sweet, open-mouthed kisses on my neck, making me gasp and bite my lip.

When Jon said those words and kissed my neck, my heart rate went from zero to infinity. Kissing Jon was every nightly desire come true; my fantasies had become realities. I felt my nether regions tingle in my thick, baggy jeans. I ran my fingers up and down his hot body under his jacket, raking my fingernails over his sensitive spots, making him whimper against my neck.

Fuck, his noises are so hot…

I could feel Jon's erection poking at my lower tummy as he started shifting on my lap.

He's so desperate, it's so cute…

Jon pulled away, crashing his lips back into mine while gripping the sides of my face again. My fingers trailed down to his waist, feeling all over his hot back.

"I want you bad, Y/N…" Jon husked between kisses, biting and tugging my bottom lip.

I slid my cold fingers under his shirt, making him yelp.

"I want you more, Jon…"

I latched my mouth onto his neck, feeling up his sides and hairy chest.

Now I'm in charge…

I snaked my hands down to his hips, dangerously close to his crotch.

"Oh fuck, Y/N, please…"

Jon was already at my mercy, begging me to touch him. I continued teasing around his throbbing cock, licking and sucking hickeys all over his neck. He was a moaning mess on my lap, like a little slut in heat. I snickered against his neck.

"You want me to touch you, baby?"

Jon buried his face in the crook of my neck and nodded frantically. I removed my hands from him and whispered in his ear,

"Use your words…"

Jon thrust hard into my hand and begged,

"Please, Y/N…make me cum all over your hand…or mouth…or pussy, I don't fucking care which…"

I got up, helping a whining Jonathan up with me.

"Let's go somewhere a bit more private…"

Jon followed me around the front of the building to my truck. He was practically shaking from my hands, making me shiver with anticipation at how he would take revenge on me later. I opened the back of my truck and turned on my lantern next to an old mattress.

"Shall we?" I asked, hopping inside.

Jon scrambled into the back of my truck, desperate to have my hands on him.

"Fuck yes…"

I stood up and closed the opening.

"Unzip your pants, babe."

Jon unbuckled his belt and pulled down his black khakis just past his ass, his erect cock stretching the fabric of his red boxers. He laid down, ready for me.

"C'mere…"

I slowly crept towards Jon, like a predator catching its prey, then I pounced on top of him, slamming my hips down onto his member.

"Oh fuck!"

Jon threw his head back and moaned helplessly, bucking his hips into my beaver. I bit my lip, holding my hips down for Jon to grind against, feeling powerful on top of him. I quietly whimpered when his bulge rubbed against my clit.

"You're so fucking hot…I need to go down on you…" I groaned, lifting up Jon's shirt and trailing hungry kisses down his hairy torso, him squealing when I nibbled at his nipple.

When I reached Jon's crotch area, it was warm and throbbing for me, a strangely comforting and cuddly feeling, even though it was a sexual situation. Jon whined when I cupped his clothed nuts and traced my tongue along his trapped length, placing kisses on his swollen tip through the elastic fabric. I teasingly nuzzled Jon's tip with my nose and kissed down his shaft to his balls, earning cute twitches from his cock. I slowly licked up between his nads and trailing lightly at the base of his cock with my fingers.

He's so cute, it hurts…

I turned my head to the side and put his shaft in my mouth corn-on-the-cob-style. I moved up and down, my tongue tracing the bulging muscle on the front.

"Oh, Y/N…" Jon keened, gripping my hair and humping into my face desperately.

I gripped Jon's erection and started slowly stroking him through his boxers, making his pretty little head fall back and making whimpers tumble from his cute lips. Continuing the teasing with my mouth while I stroked him, I cooed,

"You're so cute when you're all flustered like that…"

Finally gathering up enough strength to say something clearly, he replied with,

"Just imagine what you'll be like later…"

Feeling challenged, I yanked down Jon's underwear and sucked his tip hard, making him gasp and turning his cocky words into loud moans. Snickering at his duality, I slowed down again, sliding my wet tongue all over his tip sweetly while looking up into the prettiest eyes to ever exist. In between tingly licks, I pressed loving, gentle kisses to Jon's tip, precum sticking to my lips. When Jon bucked his hips into my face and groaned, I decided to stop teasing. I started pumping his wet shaft at a medium pace and sucking hard, twisting my neck different ways and putting my tongue on the bottom of his dick while I sucked his soul out, earning the sexiest moans and whimpers any ears could experience. Jon's grip on my hair pushed me down to deepthroat him, making me grip onto his feminine thighs for extra endurance.

"Oh my god, Y/N, you're so good at that…Oh shit!"

Jon yelped when I spread his legs out and started going faster, squeezing his nuts lightly. The saliva dripping from my occupied tongue trailed into the hand that squeezed Jon, lubing up his sensitive areas and making him lose his damn mind down my throat. Jon desperately fucked my face, rambling curses and praises while nearly ripping out my hair. I flicked my tongue wherever it could and went deeper, fitting Jon's whole shaft down my throat and increasing suction at the back of my throat.

"You're gonna make me bust twelve nuts at once, fuck…"

Already soaking wet, I ground my clothed pussy into the heel of my boot, needy for friction while I continued blowing Jon hard for the next several moments; I lost track of time in a fit of desire. I looked up at Jon again while he was nearing his orgasm, earning the view of a pretty head tilted back all the way and a spotted neck above a dark green heavy jacket.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, good god, Y/N you're so…" Jon stammered, my wet, tight mouth driving him to insanity.

Once I started gagging, I pulled off and slobbered all over his cock, pumping his squelching cock with a vice-grip. Jon's pretty unit glistened in the lantern's light, all red, throbbing, and tingly. I dived back down and continued my attack, arching my ass up in the air and going all the way down, more precum leaking down my throat. My tongue explored him, tasting his desire for me.

"Oh god, oh my-oh shit!!"

Warm, salty, delicious ribbons of semen shot down my throat for each one of Jon's strained moans as he tugged on the roots of my hair, making me whimper a bit. He desperately fucked into my face, drunk on both beer and his need to cum. I took every drop down my throat, like I had always fantasized. Once Jon was done, he shakily leaned forward and caressed my raised ass.

"That was the best…fucking head…I've ever gotten…even compared to my own hand…" He panted, giving my butt cheek a squeeze.

I hummed and licked the remaining cum up his shaft teasingly, planting more sweet kisses to the tip, making him twitch and groan.

"Fuckin' tease…" Jon growled, smacking my ass.

I gasped and whimpered on his cock, not used to him being all dominant like that. My time was over.

"C'mere…" Jon said again, trailing his hand up my back.

I sat up and straddled his lap, looking down at his cute face and caressing it.

"Hi…" I giggled tipsily.

"Hey…" Jon replied before suddenly whirling me around, throwing me down under him with my back hitting the thin mattress.

I could feel my panties overflowing as my dominant demeanor dropped. Jon was in control now.

"We might wanna go home for what I'm about to do…" He breathed, his teeth scraping against the shell of my ear.

I trembled underneath Jon, feeling up his body as I nodded, both of us leaving the truck. We took a tense bus ride to my apartment, and once we arrived, we ran out, throwing the driver a dollar. Once the bus was gone, Jon lunged at my lips, grabbing me by the face and pulling me into him. I hugged around his waist and raked my nails up his back again, groping and scratching wherever I could reach. Jon pushed me to the stairs, traveling with me on his lips the whole way up to my apartment.

"Fuck…"

I fumbled with my keys to find the right one, Jon leering behind me impatiently, needing to fuck my brains out. Once I found the key and unlocked the door, Jon grabbed me and pinned me up against the wall, slamming the door behind him with his foot. He crashed his lips into mine, gripping my face hard enough to break my jaw while I shifted into him as much as possible, raking my fingers under his shirt after he took off his jacket. I quickly put down my purse before pulling into Jon harder.

"Mmh-.…" Jon moaned into my mouth at the mercy of my cold fingers.

Jon gripped my hair, and his tongue slithered between my teeth into my mouth, challenging my tongue to a battle for dominance (his obviously won).

I've always wanted his sexy body pressed up against mine…

Still making out, Jon led me to my pullout couch bed I slept on and pushed me down onto it, crawling on top of me. After giving me one last peck, he removed his shirt and undid his belt, throwing both on the floor. He came back down and started kissing my neck again, sucking and harshly biting my throat while pulling my hair, drawing an erotic whimper between my lips. Jon did his signature chuckle against my neck.

"Told you…"

I wrapped my legs around Jon's waist and humped into his crotch, making him groan against my neck.

"So…so…desperate…"

He took off my jacket and shirt, throwing it with his clothes.

"So pretty…"

Pale hands and long fingers immediately latched to my breasts, squeezing the plump flesh through my bra in an insane and hungry manner, making me dizzy with arousal. I was helpless under Jonathan, so pathetic I couldn't even speak. All I could do was whine and whimper into his mouth as we ate each other's lips hungrily.

"Please…Please, Jon, let's fuck…" I keened, my face hot and flushed a deep red.

Jon bit his lip, wanting nothing more than to pound me open.

"…I'm gonna need to prep you first…"

Yanking off my bra, Jon lunged at my tits, not caring what they looked like enough to look at them first. He buried his face between them, enjoying my warm skin against the sides of his face and leaving purple hickeys. My breath hitched in my throat, stopped by his demanding mouth. I gasped when Jon's tongue glided to my nipple and started sliding around comfortably, the tiny tingles in my chest and cunt making me whimper more. I helplessly ran my fingers through his dreads roughly while he gently attacked my tits, making him hum at the feeling and crack a smirk against my nip. More hickeys were sucked and bitten onto my chest and neck, making sure to leave no bald spots. Jon pulled back to admire the number he did on my chest, now covered in deep purple and red blotches.

I love his biting love language…

While he was up, I took the ample time to admire how pretty Jonathan is, running my fingers around his thin waist, his soft chest and tummy, his body hair that was strangely comforting, like every other part of him.

He's nothing short of an angel…

Completely smitten, I sat up under Jon and started kissing his chest, feeling his warm skin under my lips while still feeling up his body. I tugged down his pants a little, signaling them to come off. He obliged and pulled them off, only wearing red boxers bearing a throbbing erection before flashing a sexy smirk and pushing me back down.

"Be patient, Y/N…"

Jon nuzzled between my ribs before trailing kisses down my tummy, stopping at my pelvis, the anticipation of my wet pussy on his lips making me shiver. He undid my belt and pulled down my pants, throwing them onto the pile on the floor. When I looked down, I swear Jon was drooling when he saw my panty-clad core.

What a great day to wear gray panties…

Jon could see every ounce of wetness caused by him for himself; he could see, feel, and taste what he did.

"Oh my god…" Jon groaned before tearing off my panties hungrily, needing my pussy like oxygen.

He took a second to look at his midnight snack, a string of drool dripping onto my throbbing clit, making me bite my lip. Jon dived down to nip at my inner thighs, trying with all his being not to immediately start eating me out. I whined, and my pussy twitched, needing Jon's mouth. Unable to contain himself, he swiftly attached his mouth to my soaking cunt, nudging his mouth between my red, puffy folds and tasting my wetness.

"Mmh…you taste…so good…"

Jon slowly started licking up and down with his long tongue, making me gasp every time his tongue flicked against my clit. He snickered against me when he heard my little noises, proud of his dizzying tongue skills. My poor cunny was engulfed between Jon's pretty lips as he suckled on my clit, circling it with his tongue.

"Ah…Jon…that feels so-…good……" I whimpered and moaned helplessly, pushing back the dreads in his angelic face.

Moving his head side to side, Jon snaked his long fingers to tease around my entrance before easing two into it. Tingly sensations shot up and down my spine, producing more wetness to coat Jon's mouth and chin.

"Oh god….tastes so fucking good….." Jon huffed into my messy cunny, pumping his fingers faster and slurping my whole pussy hungrily.

I could feel the knot in my tummy start to tighten to the point of unraveling while Jon pushed his mouth deeper, paying the most attention to my clit.

"Oh my god, Jon….please don't stop….I'm gonna cum…." I whined, followed by more pathetic inaudible moaning.

Jon's actions became desperate, him moaning into my pussy while he devoured me senseless and punched my g-spot swiftly.

"Ah, fuck!" I squealed, my pussy pulsating as I released in Jon's pretty mouth, my back arching almost ninety degrees and my pussy magnetically attached to Jon's mouth.

He moaned relentlessly and drank up all my juices, swallowing me whole and trying to get more like he was starving. With a loud pop, Jon released my quivering pussy from his mouth, crawling back up to my eye-level with a cum-coated grin.

"How was that?"

My face red, I replied shakily,

"Fucking crazy…"

I pulled him back down to kiss me, tasting my salty cum on his lips.

"Ew…" I giggled, nuzzling his cute nose.

Jon snickered and pecked my lips again.

"Yum."

I was oblivious to the party upstairs until "Closer" started playing right as Jon crawled back up to me.

Shit's going down…

I fired a Kubrick stare at Jon and started teasing his erect cock with my fingers again while taking off his boxers, a pretty cock springing out, ready to fuck.

"Oh god, Y/N…"

Jon violently shoved my legs over his shoulders, throwing me upside down and angling me so he could pile-drive me insane. Leering down at me, he slapped his tip on my wet entrance, triggering a quiet moan and a lip bite in both of us.

~~you let me violate you~~

Jon slowly pushed himself inside me, his teeth gritting when he hit contact with my tight insides.

"Shit…" I moaned, my eyes rolling back in my head while I squeezed his unit hard.

With that, Jon started moving in in and out slowly, leaning forward a bit to get closer to me. I could feel his cock breaking my pussy in, claiming it as its new home.

~~I broke apart my insides…~~

"You good?" Jon breathed, subdued by my vice grip.

I nodded, needing him to go faster. He leaned forward more to hold himself up on my shoulders at a dizzying angle that could have anyone screaming in no time. Jon changed his pace from slow to medium, both of us choking out heated whimpers and moans. It was like our genitals were becoming inseparable friends, like a magnetic field inside me.

The view is so beautiful…

Jon smeared his face with desperation, his chest hair, eyes, and forehead shining with sweat in my dimly-lit apartment, tints of dark orange and yellow saturating him into the dark, raggedy, peeling room. I felt up his skinny waist, him fitting easily in my hands while I trailed them all over his back and torso.

"Ahh…."

Jon's movements turned into thrusts as he held onto my leg for leverage, kissing it between loud moans.

I swear, his moans could kill god…they're so hot, holy fucking Christ…

"oh-Oh god, Jon, fuck!…." I cried when Jon snapped his hips into my g-spot.

~~help me get away from myself…~~

~~I wanna fuck you like an animal…~~

I cried out when Jon slammed himself forward to clasp his hand around my throat and pummel my g-spot repeatedly, groaning and pussydrunk.

"I'm using…this-oh fuck!- this pretty pussy tonight…"

With an erotic moan, I thrusted back into him and did a Kegel, causing a yelp to jump from Jon's chest before he fell down to me.

"Do that again…"

I squeezed another cock-crushing Kegel around Jon's throbbing cock, earning the hottest whimper known to this earth right in my ear.

"…so good to me…"

His groans becoming carnal, and dangerous, Jon gripped the roots of my hair and starting pounding me into oblivion, my g-spot crying from all the battery. It felt like we fused together, like a loud, sweaty, horny creature whimpering, moaning, and producing every bodily fluid possible.

~~you can have my everything…~~

I hooked my arms under Jon's lean shoulders, pulling his chest to mine and squishing my boobs under his.

Empty space isn't allowed between us…

Still gripping my hair, Jon scooched up, buried his face in the top of my head, and rammed into me harder, both of us groaning and shaking at the feeling of each other.

"Oh my god, Y/N…so….so…tight…..shit!"

I violently raked my nails down Jon's back, sending each other straight to paradise and desperate for more. Jon's growls turned into loud whimpers, pleas, and cries as he struck my g-spot even faster at the mercy of my fingernails.

"You feel s-so good, Jon…..I've b-been wanting th-this for so long…." I finally managed to choke out through erotic noises.

Jon crashed his lips into mine, gripping my throat and jaw with brute force and sloppily pounding my cunt open.

"I have too…but I didn't-…know you'd be…this crazy…"

Jon reached his hand down to flick my clit, making me squeak and dig my nails harder. He groaned loudly, and his head fell to the crook of my neck.

~~my existence is flawed...~~

~~you get me closer to god…~~

Jon choked out various whimpers and loud, desperate moans into my ear, holding me down and pounding my gushing pussy open.

"Fuck, Jon…!" I yelped when he deepened his thrusts to the maximum and flicked my clit faster.

With a slutty groan, Jon bit down harshly on my neck, moaning on the marked skin,

"You're so fucking good….dirty slut…"

I hooked my legs around his hips and buried my face in his shoulder. Sounds of clapping, pornographic cries, and the painfully erotic song in the background seeped into my dim, filthy apartment. If I had not been horny, I would have cried tears of joy.

I dreamed about being with Jon for so long…It's just as amazing as I imagined…

I needed this pretty boy in my life and I finally have him…I love him so much…

I smothered kisses wherever I could reach on Jon's hot, sweaty skin, addicted to every part of him and never wanting to let go. He cried out when I bit down on his chest. Taking the hint, I bit another part of his chest and left a dark red hickey, my g-spot being destroyed in the process, distracting me and making me nearly fall back in a fit of slutty moaning.

"Shit, Y/N, I'm close…." Jon choked into my ear, followed by a harsh bite on my neck.

The dizzying feeling of nirvana crept into my tummy, my walls twitching on Jon's throbbing cock.

"Oh god, yes! Right there…" My back arched, and my head craned backwards into my pillow.

Thank god Livvie's out on a business trip…

"Fuck, Y/N!" Jon cried out, grabbing my hips and leaning backwards, exposing his decorated neck.

~~you are the reason I stay alive…~~

Jon's pretty eyes were fixated on my pussy gripping him, my thighs clapping at an inhumane speed against his.

"Oh god, I'm cumming!!"

When the song ended, Jon released strings of hot cum into me, quickly followed by a euphoric wave crashing over me and my pussy coming undone with my cum while I rubbed my clit. Jon's signature growls and whimpers trailed to my buried ears, causing my pussy to squeeze more cum out of Jon. Once we finished, Jon collapsed onto me, panting heavily into my neck. I heaved hot breaths under Jon and rubbed his clawed back, planting a sweet kiss on his shoulder. We laid there for a few minutes, trying to comprehend how happy we were with each other.

"…you good?..." I breathed, feeling the back of his neck.

Jon nodded.

"…yeah…what about you?...you doin' alright?"

Jon raised himself up and caressed my red cheek. I smiled up at him and said,

"Never better."

Leaning back on his knees, Jon reached out for my hands, taking them and pulling me to him, catching me in his arms.

"Round two?" Jon asked, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

I ran my hands up his thighs and obliged, desperate for more. Jon held my face sweetly and pecked my lips.

"Ride me?"

When I heard those words, I toppled on top of Jon and positioned his tip at my entrance.

"Anything for you, Jonathan Davis…"

Flashing a dangerous grin, Jon smacked my ass and grabbed my hips.

"Such an impatient little whore…"

With a bone-breaking grip on my hips, Jon started grinding my cunt against his shaft, his head falling back in tingly pleasure.

"So wet…feels so good…"

I instinctively tried to buck my hips forward, but Jon spanked me again, tightening his grip.

"My pace."

With that, I continued to let Jon get off on my pussy, biting my lip and moaning quietly at the feeling of his hard cock against my clit. When Jon let go of my hips a bit due to the pleasure, I leaned back and held myself up, my hands on his knees. I started shoving my pussy farther into Jon's shaft, making him groan and completely engulfing it with my folds, leaning my head back and splaying out my boobs. Shortly, Jon pushed me off and huffed,

"Alright, NOW you can ride me..."

I snickered, swinging a leg over his and wrapping my arm around his neck, using the other to position his tip at my entrance. As soon as the head entered me, my eyes rolled back into my head.

"Ohhh my fucking god…" I groaned, pushing myself deeper.

Jon craned his neck back and moaned loudly while my pussy swallowed his cock whole. I felt so powerfu, like I had him in the palm of my hand. I slowly started moving up and down, clenching his cock like Andre the Giant was squeezing it in a massive fist. In mere minutes, Jon changed from a cocky dickhead to a whimpering, pleading mess inside me.

"God, I love you…" Jon growled, weaving his fingers into my hair and grabbing my face before pulling my lips to his.

When I sank down, I moaned pathetically into his mouth, squeezing my thighs around his.

"I love you more… I pulled away and wrapped my arms around Jon's neck, angling my pussy better to fit his fat cock.

Resting my head against the wall behind Jon, I picked up the pace, arching my back for maximum ass-bouncing efficiency. My walls crushed his cock so hard it made his head spin like he was getting fucked senseless instead of me.

"Ahhh Y/N!!" Jon cried, so deep in euphoria that he was nearly overstimulated.

Feeling too powerful, I went faster, overstimulating him and making him squeal like a little girl. He twitched rapidly underneath me, gripping my hips so hard it nearly broke the thick skin down there. I kept going, enjoying seeing Jon writhe underneath me. Trying to get revenge, Jon started sucking my left nipple and flicking my clit hard, triggering a pornographic moan to fall from my lips and more wetness to gather on his cock.

His dick is so sensitive, it's so cute…

I looked at him while bouncing with a Kubrick stare through my shaggy, long black hair, resembling a sex gremlin with tits. This attribute turned him on to the maximum.

"Fuck, you're so hot, Y/N…I wanna fucking destroy you…"

Speeding up more until I hit my maximum speed and depth, I pounded myself onto Jon's dick hard, the moaning and clapping louder than ever in the heated room. I rode this man like I would never walk again, unable to get my hands or pussy off his hot body.

"Oh god! Right there!!"

"Shit, Y/N!"

Jon suddenly trapped me in a big bear hug and slammed up into me rapidly, needing to cum more than anything. I hugged my arms around his neck and squeaked and whimpered into his ear, making him growl various praises to me.

"Fuuuck, you're gonna be the death of me…"

"You're gonna make me cum again, baby…"

"You want me to make you squirt like a little dirty slut, huh?"

Jon rolled over on top again, positioned my ass was in the air, and pounded me fast and violent like a hungry animal catching its prey.

…the best way to die…

I could feel butterflies raving in my stomach as my climax neared its time. I could tell Jon was close too.

…shit, do I need to pee or am I gonna squirt?...

"Oh my god, Y/N I'm cumming!!"

"Me too, oh fuck!"

A harsh stream of wetness shot from me onto Jon's sexy pelvis, soaking his nuts and pubes.

"Oh my fucking god, Y/N…that was so hot…"

Jon flicked my clit with his fingers so fast it made my head spin while he kept fucking me, trying to cum again. The pleasure of him continuing with me after I came and him flicking my clit hard made me bury my face into the pillows and twitch violently, squeaking like a mouse and tears pricking at my eyes. I could hear him nearly screaming as he and I came close to our second orgasms.

"Oh god, oh my- fuck!!" Jon cried out as he fucked the living daylights out of my twitching cunny.

Once he finished, Jon lazily flipped me around and gently laid beside me. When I saw him, his eyes glistened, and he was panting. I turned on my side to face him and wrapped my arms and legs around him like a koala, burying my face in his shoulder.

"Awww." Jon beamed, turning to face me and wrapping me in his comfy arms.

I snuggled up into his chest, happier than ever before.

…I finally have him all to myself…

Jon kissed my head repeatedly, just as happy as I was. We lay there panting for a few minutes before Jon said,

"…glad I could get that off my chest…"

I hugged him tighter.

"…me too, honey bun…"

He chuckled and nuzzled my hair.

"…are you sleepy?..."

"…not really…just relaxed…" I replied, my eyes slowly fluttering.

Jon took a thick strand of my hair into his mouth.

"…i'm hungry…wanna order pizza and watch movies?..."

My stomach growled right as he said that. I hadn't eaten dinner yet and it was almost midnight.

"…mmh…yes please…"

Jon sat up groggily, bringing me up with him. He was strong despite his skinny frame. My head fell on his shoulder, still hugging him. He quietly laughed.

"Babyyy, I need to get the phone…"

I sighed, not wanting to let go.

"…ok, but i'm coming with you…"

Jon chuckled,

"Fiiine…"

Jon struggled to get up with my arms around him, but he finally managed to do so, butt-naked and dizzyingly happy. I shuffled with him to the telephone, hugging him from behind around his skinny waist.

"What kind do you want?"

"…pepperoni and onion…"

"Me too."

Jon dialed Tony's Pizzeria lazily, resting his tired head against the wall.

"Yeah, hi. One large pepperoni and onion pizza please…yeah thanks, see you…"

Jon hung up, turning around to give me a big bear hug.

"I love you."

I nuzzled into his chest.

"I love you more, Jonathan…"

Jon picked me up, straining a bit.

"Lies."

I wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed him.

"Truths."

Jon carried me back to the bed and laid me down, crawling onto me. He kissed my cheeks sweetly.

"Yeah, well I love you just as much…"

Before I could protest, Jon kissed my lips.

"You better not say shit…"

I laughed, pulling him into me. He giggled against my neck, pecking it softly.

"Okay, fine…you win…"

Jon laughed evilly and laid beside me, pulling me into his chest and stroking my hair. I koala-hugged him again, squishing my cheek against his chest.

…he's all mine now…he's my boyfriend…or at least he's acting like it…

I couldn't believe it; the boy I had loved since I was a freshman in high school was holding me tight in my bed, squeezing me and kissing me because he loved me.

He loves me…?

Even though Jon told me he loved me and fucked the dogshit out of me, I couldn't convince myself that he, let alone anyone, liked or loved me; I hated myself so much. In the time spent in silence cuddling, I had time to think.

I hate thinking so much.

I felt stinging tears well in my eyes.

…he's too good for me…he's out of my league…i'm such a piece of shit…

Jon noticed my sniffling and immediately sat up, pulling me into another hug.

"Oh god, baby…what's wrong?"

Jon pulled away and held my face, wiping away my tears. When I saw his concerned expression, I sobbed, burying my face in his bare shoulder. He stroked my hair and rubbed my back, sweetly muttering words of comfort to me.

"It's okay Y/N, take your time, baby…"

Embarrassing sobs escaped my eyes, nose, and mouth as I tried to explain myself.

"I…I just…"

I broke down again, Jon humming and stroking my hair.

"I…I hate myself so much… and I keep thinking I'm forcing you into this…and that nobody actually loves me when they say they do; I think they're lying…"

I felt like I was talking out of my butt right to my high school crush.

"…baby…why would I say I love you if I didn't mean it?"

That contradicted all my illogical thinking, stumping me.

"I….I dunno…I-I'm sorry, I'm not making any sense…" I replied, feeling helpless.

Jon held my face, caressing my cheeks and gazing lovingly into my eyes.

"Y/N, You're my best friend, well, now you're more than that but you WERE my best friend all throughout high school. You loved me like no one else. Why would I think you weren't good enough for me?"

I hung my head in embarrassment.

"I…I dunno…I'm sorry Jon, I just-"

Jon cut me off by connecting his lips to mine for a long kiss. He held the small of my back, and I moved my hands to his hair and around his neck.

"Don't apologize, Y/N…There's no need to…I love you…

We continued sweetly making out, just like we did in the snow. My bare skin locked with his, and it felt so good; rough hands ran along my back tattoos, tracing my shoulder blades and my ribs. I played with his dreadlocks with one hand while trailing the other one all over his shoulders and chest, him humming at my gentle touch. It felt like I was in heaven, like an angel blessed me with Jon. We kept making out sweetly until we suddenly heard a loud knock, startling us both. When we realized we were completely naked, Jon panicked, quickly throwing on his boxers and a random hoodie while I got up and searched my purse for a five dollar bill. Once I found it, I passed it to Jon, and he opened the door, blushing profusely.

"H…Hey, what's up?" Jon stuttered when he opened the door.

The delivery guy chuckled and said,

"Nothin' much, thanks for the cash, you have a good one."

"You too."

Once the door closed, Jon set down the pizza on the kitchen counter and lunged back at me, tackling me in another big bear hug.

"Jonathan!" I squealed, caught off guard.

He laughed and kissed me again, resuming our makeout session. Jon set me on his lap, allowing me to envelop his neck in my arms and comfortably hold him while he gently held my waist, rubbing my back sweetly.

"…we should probably eat that before it gets cold..."

Jon's tummy growled.

"Agreed."

Putting on a pair of boxers, a comfy Aerosmith t-shirt, and a thick, fluffy hoodie, I snuggled up next to Jon, who had already turned on The X-Files and was waiting for me with pizza and open arms before I came to him. Engulfed in each other, we finished our pizza and binged countless episodes, our minds calmed and forgetting about the earlier events.

…I have him now…that's all that matters…

At around two in the morning, Jon flopped his head against my chest and asked me to turn off the TV. We were both unbearably sleepy.

"…can I turn on my fan?..."

"…i was just about to ask you that…i hate silence…"

I carefully laid sleeping beauty down and turned on my fan, taking my sleeping meds and brushing my teeth on the way back. Jon used my toothbrush after me, which I somehow found adorable. Once I got back, I nestled into Jon's chest under thick, fluffy blankets and held him close. He dragged his fingers through my scalp, creating the effect of a horse tranquilizer.

…he's magic…

Jon sleepily placed tiny kisses on my embraced head, nuzzling my scalp with his nose and fingers.

"…i love you so much, Jon…i wanna be your S/O…" I murmured, feeling his arms tighten around me.

"…i'm all yours, Y/N…i'm your boyfriend…i love you too; so, so, so, so much…"

My sleepy head lay in Jon's protective arms, under warm blankets as I drifted into a deep sleep, never having slept that peacefully since I was in a coma. I remember dreaming about some guy dressed as a celery stick and buying a house where Jim Carrey was my realtor. It was a nice dream, in sweet arms, in a comfy bed.

…i never had all three until now…

…i love him so much…

THE NEXT MORNING:

"…oh and in case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and JESUS CHRIST WHAT IS THAT?!?!-"

…..fwoooosh…..

krkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkr…..

The rattling windows and snowstorm outside awoke me from my dream, groggy eyes still closed and my surroundings still unclear. I felt well-rested, like I had slept for several days. I huddled back in my blankets and lay with my eyes closed and a familiar essence surrounding me. It was a comforting essence, like one of a sleepy cat. Once I noticed the arms loosely draped around me, I slowly fluttered my eyes open, coming face-to-face with an adorable sleeping Jonathan. My heart immediately warmed when I remembered the night before; all the revenge, fighting, cuddling, kissing, and a nice hardcore fuck. I gave Jon a light kiss on his nose and closed my eyes again, too sleepy and cuddly to think about my internal struggles. Jon's soft embrace and warmth melted my troubles like an ice cube in hot tea, making me sleepy. I felt myself drifting in and out of sleep, Jim and the celery guy reappearing to try and sell me an inexpensive but great house. It was a one-story shack-like abode with a dirty, stone-floored basement and a couch and TV right in the middle of all the filth.

…perfect for me and jon…

Once I woke up again, I huddled up to Jon as stealthily as possible, not wanting to disturb his peaceful sleep. However, soon after I cuddled him, he shifted semi-consciously and instinctively hugged me close to him, groaning a bit in his sleepy state. I hugged Jon tighter and kissed his nose again, humming in his warm embrace. The frigid, howling winds outside my apartment calmed me down as I fell asleep one more time, a warm snuggle engulfing me into another dream about Jim and the celery man. This time, it was a recap of the night before, the celery man sharpening a celery stick and slitting Monica's throat with it, then Jim Carrey delivering a cheesy one-liner, then chopping her in half with an axe.

"How you like them celery sticks?-"

FWOOOSH

When my eyes fluttered open, my face got buried in a Pantera hoodie, and my scalp massaged gently. Jon was awake. I hummed and wrapped my legs around him, holding him tight. He giggled, ruffling my hair.

"…g'morning…"

"…g'morning…" I murmured, snuggling him a little harder.

Jon rubbed my head a little more, still being gentle. I hummed against him at the relaxing feeling.

"you're making me sleepy…"

Jon giggled and kissed the top of my head.

"mmh…can't have that happening, It's already 2:35 p.m…"

"oh really?..."

"yeah."

Jon sat up, resting his head on the headboard, leaving my sleepy head in his lap. I huddled up into him like a sleepy dog, trying to get as close as possible to him.

"Babe, if you do that you're gonna give me morning wood." Jon laughed, pulling me up into his chest and stroking my hair.

"…mmh, sorry hon…" I murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"It's okay, baby…no need to apologize…"

I love Jon so much. He makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside, kills the alcoholic drug addict in me, and makes me a cuddly bastard…

After a few moments of warm cuddles and random conversation, Jon asked,

"You doing anything for Christmas?"

I shook my head.

"Nope. Ever since I moved out, my extended family never wants to see me again."

Jon hummed, nuzzling the top of my head.

"Wanna spend Christmas with me and my mom?" He asked.

My heart jumped out of my throat with that sentence. Fully awake now, I sat up and faced Jon.

"Wha- Really?! I mean-…Are they okay with it?"

"Of course, they're okay with it! They love you."

I almost started crying again.

"Jon….What did I do to deserve you?"

I held his pretty face in my hands and kissed his lips.

…pepperoni…

My heart wrenched at the offer. I wanted to turn it down in humility, but I wanted to be a part of the Davis family so badly.

"You were my best and only friend throughout high school and after; I should be asking that question…"

Overcome with insane amounts of serotonin, I threw my arms around Jon's neck and pulled him into a massive hug, burying my face into his shoulder.

"I can't believe this…"

"I can." Jon beamed, chewing on a strand of my hair.

He pulled me into his lips, kissing me passionately and holding my head against his, initiating another lazy makeout session. Jon spun us around and sat on my lap, holding my face while I hugged his tiny waist. He squished my cheeks and caressed them lovingly as if I was a five-foot-two teddy bear. After several minutes, Jon pulled away, still holding my face.

"Wanna get breakfast and play in the snow?"

I pecked his nose.

"I'd love nothing more…"

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