#but her ears and eyes are open and she has all her milk teeth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grimoireofhayley · 5 months

Text

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

Word Count: 1.6k

WARNINGS: Graphic content, Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ Content, Stalking, Possessiveness, Dirty talk, Religion talk, Suppressed Mental Health problems (I.e., reader has some issues that she isn't aware of)

Taglist: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @fanfic-enjoyer123 @darkenwolfie @juda-the-simp @colsons-baker @junnniiieee07 @ok-boke @ren-ni @katie-tibo @bruce-yamada @kenma-izhu @cookielovesbook-akie @elevenpurple @hyunlix-world @mavix @halleest

A/n: Oh-my-god, I am so sorry for the major delay! Trust me, I was in the middle of writing the chapter the same day I said I would post it, but being a mom is super-duper busy and they will always come first and I completely forgot to post the chapter, but here it is FINALLY.. My twins are now 3 so they’re acting like teenagers, but toddler form; super bossy, extremely demanding, always and I MEAN always keeping me on my feet. Plus, I had to re-write it as I didn’t like how the first attempt at chapter 14 sounded 😮‍💨 Anyways, I barely have time to write, but when I can, I hope you all enjoy it. I hope this chapter is up to your liking! More chapters are still on the way, A LOT MORE. Keep in mind, the Billy scene in previous chapters and this scene is my first time writing smut/smut related things… 😓😓😓 Lastly, Thank You ALL so much for getting me to 405 followers! I’m in disbelief 🫢💜

All Chapter Links 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 14

Gulping, you shakily took the phone off the counter, hanging it up and unplugged it from the wall, making sure no calls would come through anymore that night for her sake.

Looking over, you saw Sidney gripping at her brown hair, pulling it in every direction, her jaw clenched, yet, her teeth chattering; she wanted to scream, shout and cry, but couldn’t. Her pale features now a rouge from both exhaustion and terror. Her sanity seemed to slip away bit-by-bit each time Ghostface would call; preying on her, taunting her, humiliating her.

“What, what!?” Dewey came running from his room, waving a gun around in his white t-shirt and blue and white striped boxers.

Tatum tsk-ed at her brother’s tardiness, pushing passed him to follow Sidney.

You rubbed the nape of your neck, placing your other hand on Dewey’s shoulder, “Next time.. maybe be a little quicker.” You laughed, half-heartedly, trying to make light of the situation, seeing how confused Dewey seemed to be.

“(Y/n) (L/n) and Sidney Prescott who were both…”

Before the news reporter finished his sentence, Dewey shut the tv off, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table, sitting down.

“Billy was released.”

Your ears perked at the sound, relief washing over.

Sidney’s eyes lit up, but she still clearly had her doubts.

“His cellular bill was clean. He didn’t make those calls..” Dewey stated, grabbing a carton of milk before pouring some of it into his coffee. “We’re checkin’ every cellular account in the county.” Dewey finished, taking a long gulp of his un-sweetened drink before continuing. “(Y/n), Sidney..” He eyed both of you, “Any calls made to you two or Casey Becker are being cross-referenced, it’s going to take some time, but we’ll find him.”

Tatum nudged you and smiled at Sidney.

Dewey pulled into the school lot with ease, parallel parking at the curb.

He got out and opened the door for you and Sidney.

You smiled at him, thanking him quietly, and he tilted his hat at you as Sidney got out next.

However, your smile quickly faded, seeing a reporter running towards your side; most likely to ambush both you and Sidney about what happened.

“(Y/n) how does it feel to know the murderer is lusting after you and nearly butchering your friends? Do you know who the killer is, are you a part of his twisted game?” A red head asked, shoving a mic at you, accusing you of being his partner-in-crime.

You scoffed, irritated, but somehow calm, honoured that she knows the killer wants you.

“What about you, Sidney? How does it feel to be almost brutally killed?”

Sidney bit her lip, already wanting to cry.

Dewey stepped in front, shoving the reporter away.

“Hey, leave them alone!” He shouted, towering over the petite woman.

She stumbled back, but wasn’t giving up.

“People want to know. They have a right to know!”

You, Tatum and Sidney bolted, getting away from all the interrogations this woman was sure to have up her sleeves.

You were pressed against a locker; your mid back arched causing your torso to move forward; and your arms folded, pushing your breasts together, making them pop out.

“This is a mistake, I shouldn’t be here…” Sidney huffed, grabbing her books and slamming her locker door shut.

You sighed, plopping a sucker in your mouth; twirling the red treat around your tongue, pursing your lips tightly around it and without meaning to, your eyes landed on Stu who was already watching you.

You blushed and he smirked, liking how you looked with your mouth full.

“I want you to meet me right here after class, okay, Sid?” Tatum spoke and Sidney nodded.

“Hey, Stu, I haven’t seen Billy around… is he really pissed?”

Stu tore his gaze from you, looking at Sidney.

“Oh, you mean after you branded him the Candyman?”

You shoved Stu slightly, giving him a glare.

He winced, “No, his heart’s broken—“

Suddenly a scream was heard and the four of you looked into the direction it came from, spotting a student running down the hall dressed as Ghostface.

You blushed again, seeing the full cloaked figure and that ghostly-white mask again.

‘Fuck, that’s hot.’ You smirked slightly, turning your head to the side, trying to subtly check out the student who’s dressed up like the murderer, you let out a quiet “Mmph” squeezing your thighs together.

Unbeknownst to you, Stu heard your moan, and knew exactly what you were doing with your thighs. Luckily, the others did not, but he is so glad that he did. He can smell the hormones leaking off of you; they were practically oozing with want for the cloaked-killer.

He bit his lip, trying to contain his excitement.

“Why are they doing this?” Sidney spoke, watching the student run away.

Stu, glanced at you, “Are you kidding me? Look at this place, it’s like Christmas!” He laughed, a devious smirk prying at his lips as the comment was directed at you. You were his Christmas, knowing the woman he wants is full blown horny for him, for Ghostface.

Tatum huffed, hitting him with the lollipop you had given her prior, “Stupidity leak.”

“Hey!” Stu shrieked, immediately looking at his girlfriend, while the school bell blared, signalling the start of class and students were quick to get going.

Sidney ran down the hall, upset at Stu’s comment and Tatum ran after her. You sighed, looking down, picking up your bag in the process. You went to go wave ‘bye’ to Stu, but he vanished.

“Huh?” You mumbled out loud, seeing how he was gone and so was every other student that was there nearly two minutes ago. “That’s my cue…”

Tapping your fingers against your hip, you hummed to the tune of ‘Your Dead’ by Norma Tanega.

You stopped in front of the janitors closest to reach for your Walkman that was in your bag, wanting to blare the song in your ears, hoping that actually listening to the catchy tune would make it stop repeating itself inside your head.

Though, the universe had other plans…

You felt the door swing open, hitting you, knocking you out of the way, making you drop your only source of music.

Soon after, a hand covered your mouth and an arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the closet.

A scream hitched in your throat as the unknown figure flicked the light on, revealing who the culprit was…Stu.

“Stu, what the actual fuck was that for!?” You narrowed your eyes, clenching your fist, ready to punch him out of fear.

He laughed, but soon afterwards told you to be quiet, locking the door behind him as he stepped forward.

“Shh, I don’t want anyone to hear us.” He whisper-yelled, getting closer to you, placing both hands on either side of your arms.

He was a good two-to-three feet taller than you.

“I saw you, you know…” He bit his lip again, rolling the flesh with his teeth, gripping your arms tighter.

You looked up at him, confused, not sure what he meant, however, a part of you knew where this might be going.

“The way your face went red, how you rubbed your thighs together..” He taunted, poking your nose, “Let’s not forget that sweet-little moan you let out when you saw that student…” He leaned into the crease of your collarbone, nipping at the skin, the coolness of his lips penetrating your warmth.

Your face was hot with yearn, but also embarrassment. “The student who was dressed as the Woodsboro slasher…” He grinned, feeling you shiver at his touch.

“W-what—“ You began, trying to act like you didn’t know what he was talking about; ashamed that you were caught. You were quickly silenced by Stu pressing his lips against yours, his bulge pushing up against your side.

His fingers danced across your arms to the string of your grey tank top, ripping it from your body with force as the sound of the thin material shredding lingered in your ears. Fortunately for Stu, you didn’t have a bra on…

Your breasts jiggled from the impact, bouncing in place which caused a small guttural growl to emit from Stu’s throat.

Stu immediately grabbed your boob in his right hand, rubbing his thumb across the perky bud, while his other hand gripped at your bare side, his fingers digging into your ribs.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, staring at the finger prints you already had bruised into your skin. They almost lined up with his own marks, but his were slightly bigger. Stu only quirked a brow, continuing to fondle your breast, not wanting to ruin the moment by asking.

Stu trembled at the thought of someone else having you, but he was sure to find out who and kill him.

“M-mm..” You let out a breathy moan, making Stu lose track of his thoughts,“But T-Tatum—“ you stuttered, holding back another sound as he slid his hand into your shorts, rubbing your clit through the silk of your panties.

He hooked his finger under the band, pulling you even closer, his forehead pressing up against your own.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

<— Previous Next —>

#fanfiction #scream 1996 #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #billy x you x stu #scream franchise #stu macher #billy loomis x female reader #billy x stu #stu macher x female reader #stu matcher x reader #stu macher smut #stu x reader

252 notes · View notes

wroteclassicaly · 2 years

Text

~*~

Eddie wanting to get to the bottom of why you’re feeling so insecure and anxious, but you’re pawing at his clothing, because he’s the only constant in your life and you need to feel absolutely wrecked by him. You’re breathing heavily, whimpering with tear filled eyes. “Don’t wanna feel anything but you, Eds. Fuck me until I forget.”

“Sweetheart, you gotta talk to me.”

You’re alarmed, panicked, but Eddie presses a finger to your lips. “After, yeah? M’ gonna give you what you need right now.”

He rocks slowly inside you, a painstaking rhythm that drags every thick inch of him through your sopping wet walls. He laces your fingers, pushing your arms until he’s got them pinned above your head, his mouth draping over the shell of your ear. “Good girl of mine, with the prettiest pussy. Always makin’ me cum so fucking hard.”

It’s what you need to hear, what you have to hear, Eddie knows this. And it’s nothing but the truth. His thumb presses your bottom lip down to bare your teeth. His thrusts become heavier, deeper. It’s on the cusp of that sweet agony, that burning sheath.

“You wanna cry for me, sweetheart? Let it all go, m’ right here.”

And your floodgates barrel open in full speed, your tears soaking his perspired neck. He pumps steadily, hips snapping, cradling your necks’ nape, bringing your mouth into a rough kiss. You’re sniffling, shaking. “Shh, shh. It’s okay, baby. I’m gonna cum, princess. Fill up my good girl, so she knows I’m with her all the way.”

It causes that coil inside you to shatter, your walls clamping down on Eddie’s cock, milking him through your soaking release. Eddie’s own vulnerability as he releases moments later in thick, warm spurts to mix in with your orgasm, it has you calming slightly. His sweat slick chest presses into yours, two heartbeats thumping in honor of one another, and it’s… right. He props up almost immediately, concern etched into his chocolate brows, thumb on your mouth’s corner. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

~*~

#idk what this is but I am emotional today okay #eddie munson fic #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #kristenwrites #my writing #my work #eddie munson fanfic

2K notes · View notes

enhastolemyheart · 1 year

Text

𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘛𝘖𝘖 𝘓𝘈𝘛𝘌 — NISHIMURA RIKI

pairing | best friend brother!niki x fem!reader

genre | fluff, kind of strangers to lovers, summer au (again)

synopsis | niki finally doing something about his undying love for you.

word count | 1.1k+

warnings | one kiss, swearing, teasing, mention of food, proofread but lmk if any mistakes, niki's sister name is Zuha but it's not the idol, Niki is a year older

a/n | it's here!! I'm really sorry for taking so long to do it, i jus got really really busy with school. I hope the 💍anon likes it! (lmk that you've read it!) thank you v much for requesting!! as always, requests and taglist is open! feel free to share anything if you'd like!! Enjoy reading!! THIS IS REQUESTED.

Gosh, why the fuck is she so cute and pretty?!

You probably won't believe it but, that was what was going on inside Niki's head when you walked into their house. His sister, only a year younger, invited you to a sleepover because your finals had just ended and you were free to spend some time together.

He couldn't help but ogle at you when you took off your shoes and walked inside to the kitchen, zuha offering you chocolate milk.

"Bro, can you not stare at her like that? You're going to creep her out." The voice of Niki's best friend, Jungwon hissed. "Focus on the game man, we're losing against the other team, and you know how much I hate losing."

Jungwon's words came out very incoherent to Niki. His focus was solely on you, the way you were sipping onto the chocolate-y delight. Smile slapped onto your face as you and his sister gossiped about stuff. His heart melted on the spot when you pushed unwanted hair behind your ear. It was like his ears reddened. When you and zuha head to her room to spend the rest of the time there, his heart skips a beat when you glance at him, waving a small 'hi' and making your way to zuha's room at her call.

Once you're out of his sight, Niki clutches at his heart and groans at how fast you made his heart beat, lip subconsciously making its way between his teeth. You both have never really interacted, the only reason was because both of you were shy and Niki thought it wasn't right to become friends with a person who's close to her sister. But, it's not like he's breaking a rule or something, right?

. . .

It was now dinner time, Jungwon and you were sleeping over at your friends' house. Niki's mother had prepared sushi and some other meals for the night. She has asked niki to set the table up, but you had insisted that you'd help.

While grabbing the required cups for water, you were aware of the glances that Niki would steal whenever you both brush past each other to make your way around the kitchen. He also helped you carry the plates when he saw you struggling, you would feel tingles all over your body when his hands brushed against yours, tips of the ears going red. He cleared his throat as to come out of the daze you had unintentionally put him in.

While eating, you both sat opposite to each other. It just happened to be that you were opposite to each other and Niki couldn’t help but feel giddy about the littlest interaction you had.

"So, how was your finals? I assume everyone did well," Zuha's mother squints her eyes at Niki as she says so, breaking the the silence that had erupted in the room. The tiny, soft chuckle that escapes your lips causes Niki's face of suspicion to turn soft at the sight of you.

“I did them very well,” Zuha answers, “I’m sure that I’ll get a good score this time.” Her mother let out a proud smile at her words before turning to you, “well, how did you do Y/n?” You stop midway of a bite before smiling sheepishly, “I did pretty good Mrs. Nishimura. I expect a good score as well,” she smiles softly before patting your head and turning to the boys to ask them.

. . .

You being you, help niki out with the dishes as his mother said doing the dishes after dinner is Niki’s job. He lets me lay off and take an early rest. Who knew Niki is such a good son? You are aware that you don’t interact with him often but when you do, your heart flutters at how respectful and nice he is. Despite all the good things, Niki can also seem to naughty and mischevious. You had occasionally witnessed him getting in small trouble around campus, you couldn’t help but think how silly and cute of a person he is.

Ever since last summer, when you had visited Zuha’s house often, you would often go to her house with the desire to talk to Niki (but also hang out with Zuha ofc!). After this summer, the way he had changed— glowed up for that matter —only made your infatuation for him grow into a full blown out crush. You were too scared to talk to him considering he is a year older and he kind of intimidated you, but now you have become more mature and gave yourself a word that you would talk to him before it’s too late.

"so, any plans for summer?" You break the silence that has taken over the room.

Niki was drying his hands after washing them after cleaning the last utensil of the night, "um, not really. I do plan casual plans like going to the mall or the movies with boys but nothing big you know?"

"yeah I get it." You nod.

"What about you?" He moves closer to you. way too close. "What are your plans for the summer?"

"Uhm well," you mentally sigh, eyes closing at your stammer, "I am going to Busan to visit my grandparents in a month so, I guess that's fun."

"have fun y/n," He moves even closer, trapping you between the counter and himself "are you by any chance, free tomorrow?" You have no idea why he's acting like this. Since when did he get flirty? You’re glad that it's only you both in the space of the kitchen right now. Zuha and Jungwon are up in Niki's room watching a movie, on a projector screen that Niki had recently purchased.

"Uhm yeah, it's summer so I’m free," the way your voice was low and soft. Like it was some sort of sweet melody that Niki could listen to for a lifetime. your eyes look into his when you hear a low chuckle emerge on his side.

"Alright then, will you, Y/n who I've liked forever since middle school, go out with me?"

A big smile makes its way to your lips, he notices the way your eyes sparkle, you nod softly before the gesture becomes more prominent. This causes Niki to smile, "wait, really?"

"yes."

And that's all you say before subtly placing your hand on his shoulder, going on your tippy toes to give him a kiss. The kiss however is short-lived, purposely so you can make him want for more. And he's definitely wanting more. But, he doesn't get any, furrowing his brows he opens his eyes to see you smiling giddy-ly before slapping him lightly on the chest and escaping from his hold.

And Niki just stands there, a low chuckle eliciting, thinking how he was not too late.

a/n | thank you sm for reading!! again, reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!! And I'll see you in the next one!

perm taglist: @jak-ey , @snoowhore , @hsheart , @hsgwrld (bold can't be tagged; send an ask to be added)

#<enhastolemyheart3 #enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen headcanons #enhypen soft thoughts #niki enhypen #enhypen jake #enhypen niki #jake sim #lee heeseung #park jongseong #yang jungwon #kim sunoo

405 notes · View notes

cookie-crumblr · 6 months

Text

Hype Train!

F! Streamer Reader x M!Yandere Streamer OC

Part 8~

His Info: 📹✨

Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: !F reader, use of she/her when referring to reader, reader has a vagina, YANDERE, pet names (pretty, pretty girl, my girl, good girl, ) WHOLE PART IS SMUTT, NSFW, p in v, creampie, oral on f, giving safe words, use of toys, shiabari, bondage, ball gag, blindfold, overstim(a lil?), squirting, flogging, not use of safe word-but like teaching when to use one, and some sweet aftercare!, fingering, shorter part

“Jassss—ahhh!!—perrrr!!!!”

He slams his hips into your ass with loud slaps over and over, your whole body lurching forward every time. He holds your body tightly against his by the ropes he tied in knots all over your pretty body.

“P-please! Harder!!! Ah!! Jas-perrrr! Harder!!! HARDER!!!!” You cry out like your life depends on this one moment.

“Y/N! F-fuck!! Y/N,” He pulls you further up by those ropes like you’re a puppet and grabs your collared throat with his other, choking you enough to bring you to that precipice you already love dancing on with him.

The resounding slapping of his pelvis against your skin is already so loud in the night, you’re glad you’re not in your old apartment where everyone would be hearing not only that, but both of your desperate howling.

“AHHH!!!!” You feel his cum finally splash deep into your womb, instantly filling you up. “Jas—per!!! Mmmm!!!”

“Cum on me again, pretty!” He thrusts harder and harder still, lifting your body higher over and over again.

The ropes burn and the pain mixes so deliciously with the intense pleasure leaving you delirious as you cum another time, your spasms milk him dry.

His dick twitches inside you.

You relax completely and catch your breath, while he still holds you up by the rope.

“J-jasper, th-that was—”

“After what you did, Y/N, I’m not even close to being done with you.” He nuzzles your neck and nips your ear.

You shiver, your eyes widening.

You hadn’t known at the time what you were getting yourself into, “I’m gonna devour you, Y/N. You’re never leavin my sight again.” He had said to you while you gazed up at him, wide eyed, from under the desk. His hand caressing your chin. If you had a tail it would have been wagging, you felt so proud. You did so good!

Back to right now, and his teeth and snakebites are grazing your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake.

“You better be ready for more, pretty~”

“Wha—?” Before you can ask, your abruptly flipped onto your back. Your tied arms behind you are making your back arch in this position. “J-Jas—”

“I told you before we left, pretty girl. There's no way I'd be done with you yet.” He starts putting pillows under your ass, lifting up your lower half using the ropes that surround both sides of your glistening pussy.

The pressure around the outside of your lips squeezing them together makes you shake and whine.

“Just relax f’me. Im not gonna check in much t’day.”

“Kay,” you nod. It's so pleasant how comfortable he makes you.

He grabs a ball gag and a blindfold out of his bedside table.

Carefully he puts them on you, “Open up, pretty,” You shudder and do just that.

He’s fussing over you and making sure your hair’s not caught in anything. Then he fixes the rest of your hair from sticking to your skin and having gone under the rope from the last few sessions.

Once your blind, and he’s pulled away, you hear a *click* like a button being pressed.

Nothing happens and you relax, not even having realized that you even tensed up.

He chuckles, “Good girl, now if you want me to actually stop, say some kind of random food, like pineapple, or avocado. Got it? i’ll hear it through that gag, don’t worry, pretty.”

“mmhmmf,” You nod. At first you think it sounds silly, but then you realize how much power he’s giving you in your physically powerless state.

Your belly feels all fluttery, you’re already more than hot and bothered all over again.

You wiggle your hips a little against the restraints.

“Aw, such a good girl f’me”

A long second of nothing happens and the anticipation swells inside of you until, *Thwap!*

A few leather strands lightly slap your thigh, He slowly drags it across your leg. It tickles, “Mmff!” You smile, and bend weird against the ropes.

“You like that, pretty? want me to hit ya harder?”

“Mmmff hmff!” you nod.

He’s smiling and admiring your beautiful body, he cant wait to leave marks all over you.

He waits another long second before smacking you with it again, this time harder, still not enough to actually hurt you, but it stings. You wiggle and moan against the gag. Another smack with it, harder and in the same spot, before he moves and smacks your other thigh.

After a couple more hits, both your thighs are hot, you think hes going to hit you again until you feel the strands lightly glide between your folds. You convulse as you come again. "MMMM!!!! ASERRR" His name around that gag makes his dick twitch and hit his own thigh.

He didn't think he'd be getting hard again so soon after cumming three times already.

It fills with more blood still as he thinks about filling you up with even more cum. "Fffuck, pretty, you're too good f'me, im gettin' hard again jus lookin at ya"

You smile and wiggle more, trying to entice him. He already was, but now he's just plain mesmerized.

You don't even register the click before you feel him pop something not too big inside you.

You feel a new stinging as the flog is guided through the air right down onto your tender cunt. “Mmmm!! mm!!” He hits right over your opening again.

Then he leans down to suck your hardened clit, his tongue expertly flicking you as he does. It's TOO much! you shake your head violently, screaming around the little red ball.

"let it out f'me, pretty~" he turns up the vibration.

You feel a pull on the ropes around your thighs, squeezing your abused lips together as he sucks your clit again. mixed with the vibration inside you, you feel so overwhelmed.

“Mm onna!!!!! aserrrrr!!!” You pant, and yell.

“C’mon, pretty, you can do it,” His words are sloppy as his tongue laps under your hood.

You release a torrent of juices, you didn’t even know was possible. “Such a good girl—”

The feeling of releasing that way is unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

As soon as you do and you’re panting so very heavily, he removes the vibrator and the gag, you cough and shake. You didn’t really notice your legs until just now.

He knows you didn’t say a safe word, but something looks off.

“J-jasper, my legs are cr-cramping”

His eyes widen a little, and his heart hurts, he reaches back into that drawer and pulls a knife out.

In two smooth motions your binds are all cut.

Next his body is wrapped around yours, and he’s massaging your calves, “Y’know you can use safe words for leg cramps too, sweet girl,” He peppers some loving kisses to your face, “You were tied up li’that for a while…”

“I didn’t think about it… o-or notice” You giggle through the pain, focusing on his soft hands. “Thanks s’much Jasper, I’m sor-“

“No need, pretty, think ya can walk to the bathroom w’ me”

Your legs feel better after he rubbed them, they feel a little like solid rocks now though, but you think you can!

“You’re so cute, do you even know you make a face when you’re feelin’ determined?” He pokes your cute cheek.

Your face warms a little, how this man makes you feel all these kinds of things is beyond you.

He slings your arm around him testing if your able to walk, and you seem pretty good, just a slight hobble… Might not even be from the cramping. He can’t help but smile.

“Good job pretty, you’re doin so good,”

The en-suite isn’t too far, and he sets you down on a poofy stool near the tub. You stretch your legs, he was careful with you to not cut off any blood flow, so you’re thankfully not numb anywhere.

You’re usually dehydrated and get cramps like these sometimes anyway. Probably the combination of the bend and the constant curling of your toes.

As soon as the water warms he helps you into the tub, then climbs in behind you.

Warm arms wrap around you, and for a while you both just relax like that. He eventually moves first leaning back against the tub.

You lean back into him and snuggle into his chest. “Pretty~ Ya gonna fall’sleep before you can wash li’this,”

He reaches over for a loofa and dips it in the water.

“here, pretty girl, lemme…”

He starts with just scribing in gentle circles down your arms, then your legs. He gets to your neck, kissing every spot before he cleans it.

The loofa tickles as he runs it up your sides. He uses one hand to fondle you, caressing up your belly, then gently cups your tit. The loofa travels down between your legs, and his fingers up. He tweaks your nipple, and blows a puff at your ear lobe.

He forgoes the loofa and dips a finger into you, you lean back and widen your legs until one is hooked over the tubs edge.

“Good girl, such a good girl f’me” His other hand trails your arm, and finds your hand to hold.

“I love you, Y/N, s’much…” a soft kiss to your neck, “I jus’ wanna spoil you…” another kiss, under your jaw this time, and he caresses your hand with his own. “I wanna protect you…” A longer kiss this time, “mmm, protect you from everything, even your past.”

“Ahhhmmm!” You clasp your hand around the one of his that’s between your legs, pressing it harder to you so he stops as you come again.

“So pretty~” he purrs.

#my oc #oc x reader #oc x you #yandere #yandere x reader #my fic #yandere x you #tw yandere #smut #yandere oc #male yandere #streamer yandere #yandere streamer x you #yandere streamer x reader #streamer x you #streamer oc x reader #streamer oc #streamer x reader #oc jasper

142 notes · View notes

c0ntraversial-h0rr0r-c0ntent · 3 months

Text

Bringing Breakfast [Otis Driftwood x female reader] | NSFW

Sweaty bloody Otis Driftwood eating pussy. 1.3k [Discussion of murder, oral (f receiving) creampie, minor knife play]

“Darlin’,” Mother Firefly called out as she heard the stairs creak under your feet. “Is that you?” She smiled when you turned the corner into kitchen. “I was hopin’ that it was.”

“Smells good.”

“Oh you are a dear,” She has a stack of plates out on the counter next to her. “Have you seen him today?”

“I know he went to town last night so he’s probably out back cause he wasn’t in his room last night.”

“He does this sometimes,” She shakes her head. “Up all night playing with his toys, I tell that boy he needs to sleep. Would you bring him out a plate?”

“Of course.”

You chat about the day while she dishes up his and your plates. “Any plans today?”

“Oh I think I’m gonna run down to Spaulding’s and get a few things, almost outta milk and runnin’ low on bacon.”

She holds the door as you walked out into the yard with the plates. You kick at the door of the shed and Otis swings it open, eyes shining and an unkempt smile across his face.

He had sweat most of his corpse paint off, remnants of white and black on his tank top which was plastered to his body, soaked with blood. “Hey mama.”

He looks insane. Of course you know that he is, in fact, insane, but the sparkle in his eye and look of malevolence on his face heighten it.

“Good night?” You smirk.

“Good night.” He nods. “But I got another one in the trunk if you wanna help.”

“You need to eat something, you’ve been,” You try desperately to peel your eyes away from where they’ve landed, shamelessly staring at where his blood stained biceps are glimmering in the sun. “Working so hard.”

He takes a few steps back into the shed and takes the plates from you. He turns around and sets them down on his work bench.

“Don’t want breakfast.” He grunts, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into the shed.

“You’ve been at it all night, you need to eat someth-,”

“But there’s so much tastier I’d rather be eating.” He pulls you close. You can feel the wetness of his blood soaked shirt pressing against you.

“C’mon mama, I know how you get when you go a night without gettin’ fucked.”

He leans in and rests his open mouth and your neck, just below your ear. His teeth only graze you, not enough to draw blood, but the piercing mixed with gentle sucking is enough to leave a bruise.

“And I know how you get when you see me all bloody.” He whispers. “Isn’t that right?”

Cognitive thinking had left a long time ago and his spit gleaming on your neck and his bulge grinding against you has rendered you absolutely incapable of refusing, so you nod.

You nod because you do—of course you love it he’s like this.

“You want these off honey?” His fingers trace down your body to land on the hem of your shorts. You nod again.

“Aw, you gone quiet on me already? Got too turned on, gotta let your pussy think for ya?” You nod again and he shakes his head, hands still at your hips, fingertips dipping below the band. “Not today, no honey you need to use your words. Don’t hold back. Tell me you like it, tell me every fuckin’ thought in that pretty little head.”

“I,” Your voice is shaky. There’s something terrifying about telling him how much you like it. He knows, he’s felt you squeeze down on his cock when he mentions what he’s been out doing, he knows how much it turns you on to know that this evil murderer only has eyes for you—but it’s so scary to say it.

“You gotta tell me,” he drops to his knees. “Or I can’t have my breakfast. You know I gotta eat, mama, and I can’t do that,” he presses his face in between your thighs, rubbing his face against the denim. “If you don’t tell me how much you like this.”

“I think it’s all the blood.” You whimper. The way he’s nosing in between your thighs is pushing the seam of your shorts against you in a way that almost feels too good. “Reminds me that you’re a, I guess serial killer.”

“Now darlin’ don’t act like you haven’t helped.”

“Not saying it’s a bad thing, just, you’re a big scary serial killer, so powerful. In control.”

“That’s my girl,” He smiles up at you. “You want these off?” He teases.

“Please.”

He unbuttons your shorts and pulls them down, then flips open his pocket knife.

He holds eye contact as he moves it towards you, only looking away to line up the blade with the seam at the side of your underwear.

“Otis if you keep cutting all my panties off I’m not gonna have any left.”

“Oh no,” he mocks, pulling them away from your hip so he can slide through the stitches. “Then I guess you’ll just have to walk around with your pussy out all the time.”

He looks up with a shit eating grin, the remains of your underwear in his hand. “Go bend over my work bench.”

You walk over, legs shaky, and acutely aware of wetness in between your thighs. When you lean over Otis reaches up from his position, still in his knees, to put his hand on your lower back, pushing you down so that your ass is sticking out.

He runs two fingers in between your lips and chuckles. “So fuckin’ messy, you been makin’ all this mess for me, makin’ my breakfast?”

You can’t say anything before he’s diving in, his tongue pushing inside you.

He licks down to your clit, sucking on it so aggressively that his spit mixes with the wetness that’s dribbling out of your hole.

“You get so sloppy, don’t you?” The teasing in his tone has gone. Now he’s intense, serious, and so fucking possessive. “This cunt gets so wet for me, doesn’t it? DOESN’T IT?” He screams.

“So wet for you,” You babble. “Only you Otis.” He keeps sucking while he fumbles with his belt. When he pulls away he runs his left hand up and down your pussy a few times and then puts pointer and middle finger inside. Then he switches them out for his ring and pinky. Then his thumb.

“What are you,”

“Gotta get my hand wet mama, and there’s no better lube than what’s pouring outta your pussy right now.”

Your clit is sliding between his spit coated lips, his nose pressing into you, one hand squeezing your ass and the other on his dick.

Eating you from the back while you’re bent over is his favorite way to do it because once he gets you close, like you are now, your legs start trembling and it makes your ass shake around his face.

“How you feelin’ pretty girl?” He groans into you.

“I’m gonna cum.”

“That’s right sweetheart.” He grunts.

He doesn’t stop. You’re shaking, trembling on his tongue, ass pushing against him. It’s so good. It’s overstimulating and overwhelming and the whole shed reeks of blood and stale sweat and your entire body is on fire.

He licks at your hole while you come down from your high, clit still throbbing. “Im gonna cum honey.” He stands up and you can feel the tip of his cock poking at your entrance, his knuckles bumping your asscheeks. “You want that?”

“Yes.” You can’t form a thought but you know you want it. Your pussy is swollen and dripping and feels so fucking good. “Otis please.”

“That’s right darlin’, oh fuck that’s my pretty girl, take it.” You can feel it shooting into you, his tip pressed just inside you. “That’s it baby, right there.”

He bends over, cock sliding in between your thighs. He presses himself against you and wraps his arms around you, kissing the back of your head.

“Thanks for breakfast honey.” He murmurs, lips pressed against you.

#otis driftwood #otis driftwood x reader #Otis driftwood x you #house of 1000 corpses #slasher fucker #slasher fanfiction #slasher x you

115 notes · View notes

alavestineneas · 4 months

Text

Home

pairing: catohadley x fem!reder

summary: He doesn't know why her flower dress comes to mind—it's a contrast to the hard truth of reality. He lost a friend here, but Cato would need to learn how to lose much more if he wanted to get the hell out of here. And he does, no matter the price. warnings: canon-typical violence; mentions of meat (as in reader owns a butcher shop); trauma and poverty word count: 6k

author's note: hello beautiful people! In honour of my birthday, I am posting about this bad boy today. Hope you like it - it was such a fun thing to write! Enjoy!

The stones under his worn boots are changing quickly; they are coloured in all shades of grey, sometimes with funny black dots on their rounded bellies. Cato would stop and collect a few if it wasn't for the important task at hand: Mom sent him to the butcher's, letting him take the thinly metaled coins for the first time, which are now snugly stored in the pockets of his raggy coat. He has the order memorized; Mom always buys the same. Three pig legs for the soup, which are then added to the porridge she cooks, and two bottles of the cheapest milk on the counter. It's good for the bones in his body, she says, and Cato believes her. Soon, he will start school; he has to be strong to get the chance to try out for the academy.

The butcher's is just around the corner; it's the only shop in their block that is always open. And, although the signboard is already faded, it is still his favourite place to visit. The door opens with a creek, and a small bell over Cato's head sings its cheerful melody. He takes a few steps inside, the colourful counters greeting him with all kinds of meat and sausages. He reads the curved writing on each of the signs carefully, trying out the way the letters come together in words. The sound of rushed steps is the only thing that breaks his mesmerization. They are soon changed by the grunting of the wood chair on the old tiled floor, and then, finally, a head pops up from behind the stands.

''Good afternoon!'' A pair of curious eyes stare at him, a smile missing a few teeth serving as a second greeting. ''What can I do for you today?'' the girl asks, changing her cheerful demeanour to a more serious, business-like tone.

Cato straightens up, his fingers finding the coins. He is a grown-up now; no other four-year-old he knows is allowed to go to the butcher's by themselves. ''I am here to buy meat.''

The girl laughs, her hair shaking with her mirth.

Cato feels the redness creep to his ears—of course, he is here to buy meat; everyone does. ''Why are you behind there anyway?'' he mutters, crossing his hands in front of himself. He thinks the girl should stop now; it's really not nice to laugh at others.

''Grandpa went to trade for bread and left me as the captain here,'' the girl boasts.

''That's a shame.'' Partly because Cato liked Grandpa Marc—he always sneaked a few pieces of candy for him and his brothers at home—and partly because he didn't like the little know-it-all. ''I would like three pig legs and two bottles of the cheapest milk,'' he declares in one breath, careful not to mess up. He isn't sure he can take another wave of her laughter.

''Sure,'' the girl nods, packing the meat in a big brown bag. Cato patiently waits as she moves her chair to reach the milk shelves, stopping before them. ''Which one again?''

''Shirley's.''

The girl doesn't move; the flowers on the back of her dress are still facing him.

''Shirley's,'' he repeats a little louder. Cato feels silly again; he doesn't like the mean girl and the way she teases him. ''Are you stupid? The one with the blue cap is Shirley's.''

''Right,'' she finally grabs it, moving to the register. Her hands work quickly, wrapping the goods and putting them together. ''The meat is this much money, '' she scrambles the numbers on the piece of paper lying nearby, ''and milk is this much.''

Cato goes over the symbols, carefully counting the total in his head. ''Here,'' he says, reaching for the money. ''And you wrote the two here wrong—it should be facing the other way, like a swan.''

''Oh. Sorry about that. Is this with change?'' She points to the colourful coins on the wood.

''Don't you know how to count? You need to give me 50 cents in change.''

''I do!'' she argues, her hand slapping the counter. ''I was just, hm, testing you!''

''Sure. Then why are you giving me two dollars back now?'' Cato raises an eyebrow. Part of him wants to laugh at her, just like she did moments ago. But he doesn't. Instead, he swaps the coins for the right amount, giving her the money back. ''Here you go. All good.''

''Thank you! Have a nice day!''

Cato nods, grabbing the bag and exiting the shop with a light heart. He did what his mom asked him to; she will be very happy to know that. The air is warm, and the soft wind is hitting him right in the face. In no time, Cato is home; the door is never locked. He places the bag on the kitchen table; Mom will see it when she puts the baby to sleep. His third brother - the other two are sleeping on the big bed in the children's room. That used to be his, but now he is a big boy—he sleeps on the couch in the living room, right near the kitchen. He likes it here; the baby's crying is not as loud, and he can see Mom as often as he wants to when she cooks.

There's not much to do right now; it's the ''quiet hours'' in Hadley's house. Usually, Cato would go play outside at this time, but instead, he grabbed the big book from the kids' shelf. There, with big, red letters, are all of the alphabets and numbers. It was his favourite. Cato remembers how mom would sit with him on her lap, her soft finger circling every picture. ''This is one. Look, it has a tiny nose, just like you do! Here, give me your hand—that's one finger you have, little gentleman!''

Cato throws one last glance at the closed door to the parent's room—he decides that mom won't be mad at him if he plays not in front of the house for once—and grabs the book, leaving the still place. This time, he grabs a few of the prettiest rocks on his way—he builds bridges and castles with them in the small creek behind their house. The butcher's is still empty when he gets there; the girl sits on the tall chair, drawing on the paper.

''What are you drawing?'' Cato asks, trying to see, but the counter is too tall for him to reach.

The girl doesn't look surprised to see him here; it's like he never left in the first place. ''It's worms. Papa worm, mama worm, and little worm. They are having dinner.''

''What are they eating? Meat?''

''No,'' she said, shaking her head. ''Meat is expensive; they have no money. They're eating a dirt pie. Here,'' the girl climbs off the chair, sitting down on the floor instead. Cato sits down near her, looking over her shoulder. ''They have small plates and spoons.''

''My dad doesn't like pies. He likes potatoes more.'' Cato thinks meat is better than pies and potatoes, but he doesn't tell Dad that. The girl tells the truth: meat is expensive.

''Where is he? At work?''

''Yeah, at the factory.'' Most people work at the factory—that's what Cato's dad says. They go when it's dark outside and Cato is still sleeping, and they return when the clock shows all zeros. Then, his dad eats while his mom drinks tea, and they whisper about something. ''And yours?''

The girl shrugs. ''I don't have one. It's just Grandpa and me. What is this?'' She points to the book in Cato's hands, and he finally remembers why he came.

''That's my book. It has numbers. Do you want to see?''

The girl beside him nods, and Cato smiles. He opens the book and proudly shows off the beautiful pictures. The girl likes them; she listens carefully to what Cato has to say about each letter. He likes it when he doesn't laugh at him.

''Good morning, Grandpa Marc!'' Cato greets the man behind the counter, cutting up yet another piece of meat. It's early, but he already stands in the butcher's, his dad's old bag on his shoulder. They can't be late for the academy.

''I'm coming, I'm coming!'' YN shouts, biting into the apple in one of her hands and tucking in her shirt with the other. ''Bye, Pa, see you!''

They both passed the exam for the academy; only four people from their neighbourhood did. They got the chance only because they were ''exceptional'' students, the only four whose training was free for now. The debt will be paid by them volunteering or after the academy through their future salaries. Cato knows that no one is actually able to pay it off; he will volunteer as soon as possible. YN will go; they agreed to go in different years.

That's how it always was with them—they walked to the academy and home together, trained, and learned together. Cato helped Grandpa in the shop, and YN often looked after his brothers. It was the endless stream of jokes from everyone around—you never saw one without the other, not even on the rating board. That was until year nine.

''I decided I'm not going to sit with you at lunch,'' Cato tells the girl walking beside him on the dusty road.

YN doesn't answer right away; she watches her feet instead. ''Let me guess—you will be with the mayor's son and his pack?''

''As a matter of fact, yes. They are my friends, and they invited me to sit with them.'' It annoys him the tone she is using.

''They are not your friends, Cato. They only do that, so you will volunteer for them when the time comes.'' YN is angry; her hands on the straps of the backpack are tightly clenched.

''So what? I'm going to volunteer anyway, so why not sit with them? There is nothing to do here, and they are always hanging out at movies or something.''

''Oh, so that's what it is about.'' YN stops, turning to him. ''You want to be one of them now.''

''Of course, I fucking do!'' Cato exclaims. ''We are dirt poor, YN. I don't want to live all my life in this shithole.''

YN's face changes; her eyes look at him as if for the first time. ''This is home, Cato. This is where we belong.''

''I don't. And I will find a way out of here, and you can stay in this mud as much as you like, but I will not let you drag me down with you.''

She slaps him. The hit is heavy; they are both trained to take blows, but it stings him more than it should. Cato watches as YN leaves, her quick steps echoing on the empty street in the morning fog. He doesn't know why her flower dress comes to mind—it's a contrast to the hard truth of reality. He lost a friend here, but Cato would need to learn how to lose much more if he wanted to get the hell out of here. And he does, no matter the price.

YN can live without him as much as he does, she tells herself. She didn't decide to ruin the friendship, so she won't be the one to apologize, no matter how long the silence lasts. If he thinks that she will run back to him after four months of not talking, he is wrong. YN is fine; she still has two friends at the academy, she still has her grandpa and the beautiful sun above her head. It smiles at her every time she walks home alone, filling in the small gap in her chest with its golden rays. Her new companion.

What she doesn't expect is a group of people in front of the shop; they shout and argue, running around with ice and water in their hands. YN runs too; something happens. Fear rises in her stomach and travels to her throat when she sees the white coat of the doctor standing near the counter, a concerned expression on his face. ''I'm sorry,'' he tells her. YN clutches her bag, trying so hard not to cry as the crowd of familiar faces surrounds her.

He fell while trying to reach for the shelf, and a customer found him unconscious on the floor. Grandpa broke seven bones in his body and damaged his head. They are taking him to the hospital for, god knows, how long. The doctor places a hand on her shoulder; the cost of surgery is covered by the state, but she needs money for the medicine. They don't have any.

YN spends an hour crying into her pillow before pulling herself together—she is alone. It's not some stupid game they play—they pretend to win for years in the generated arenas in some big green boxes—it's life. The most brutal arena of all. So, she does what any fifteen-year-old would do—she washes her face with ice-cold water and grabs the keys from the shop. She has to speak with a few people.

The door to Hadley's home is never locked; nobody closes it in their neighbourhood, but YN still knocks out of respect. Cato opens it; she is surprised he is here and not with his new friends. He wants to say something, but YN has no time for him.

''Is your dad home?'' YN asks, trying to look over his shoulder.

Cato nods. ''Come in. Mom, it's YN.'' He shouts, closing the door behind her.

''Ah, YN. How is Grandpa Marc?'' She is cooking something—a big pot boiling with the best smell one could imagine.

The woman's concerned face stirs something in YN, so she fights the urge to cry and swallows her tears instead. ''Alive

''Come sit with us; we were just preparing to eat.''

YN wants nothing more than a plate of something warm, but she declines. She came here not to lessen the portion of someone; nobody here has money to make extra food. ''Thank you, but I need to speak with Mister Janus.''

''Spill it.'' Mr. Janus nods, standing up from the couch.

''Can we speak outside?'' YN asks, feeling a pair of blue eyes on her.

''Of course,'' Mister Janus shares a look with his wife before stepping outside. ''What happened, kid?''

YN takes some air inside her lungs. ''Is there a place for me at the factory for the night shifts?'' The man opens his mouth to argue, but YN is quicker. ''I know I am young, but I am strong from all the training, and I know a lot of useful things. I can reach where most men can't, and I will do anything you ask me to, I promise.''

Mister Janus sighed. ''I know you are good, but what about the academy? Night shift is six to six; you won't have time to get enough sleep and do the homework.''

''I quit the academy.''

''What?'' Mister Janus's face changes. ''YN, why? It's the only chance for you to survive.''

''Work is the only way for me to survive. Poverty and an empty stomach will kill me much faster than some games. I need the job, Mister Janus, please. If you don't give it to me, I will look for it elsewhere.''

The man thinks, his forehead creased with worry. ''Fine, kid. But be careful—get enough rest and don't push yourself too hard. We are here to help if you need us to.''

''Thank you, thank you so much!'' YN smiles, a few tears escaping her eyes. She hugs the man tightly, a glimmer of hope finally appearing. ''Thank you, Mister Janus; I will not let you down!''

Mistes Janus smiles back, patting her back. ''Go before it gets too dark; I'll see you tomorrow at five thirty.''

He watches as YN turns the corner of the street before returning to the warmth of his house. How much do these kids have to endure in this world?

YN didn't push herself too hard; she simply did what she was supposed to do. At six, she returned to the shop after the shift at the factory—butcher's opened at eight—so she had two hours to wash the dirt and sweat away with the old basin and a little warm water from the kettle and to master something edible on the stove. When that was done, she would dissect the meat and check the dates on milk bottles; the soon-gone bad would go to the sale section, and the new ones took their place. Then, the doors of the butcher's opened—people still needed to eat, and YN wasn't about to let them starve because of her own ''tiredness.''

The heaviest flow was in the morning, with the shop becoming quieter in the afternoon—that's when she took most of her sleep in, resting her head on the wooden counter and closing her eyes for a second. Oftentimes, customers would find her like this—they gently shook her shoulder and woke her up before ordering. Each time, YN felt shame creep to her cheeks, but each time, no one said a word to her; they just smiled, thanked her, and left the shop with a big brown bag in her hands.

That's how the rest of the year passed, with it becoming slightly easier when Grandpa was finally discharged from the hospital. His right arm didn't move like it used to, and it was hard for him to walk, but it was still better to have someone home to return to. Besides, he insisted on still serving the customers, so YN had an opportunity to sleep in her own bed for a few hours before a new portion of cut meat was delivered.

That's what she thought about standing in the main square in a crowd of children—how much meat she needed to cut before her shift. Grandpa was also here; some man had to hold him up so he wouldn't fall from being on his legs for too long, but he could at least enjoy the fresh air, which YN was grateful about.

The reaping was going quickly; the girl named was from the academy, so they didn't have to go through all that volunteering. YN didn't know her personally, but she saw her a couple of times; she was good with knives. As for the boys, it didn't go as smoothly—some poor eleven-year-old's name was called out, and he burst out crying on the spot.

''I volunteer!'' the voice boomed through the street, and YN turned with everyone to see who it was, although, in her head, she knew the answer.

Cato. He walked to the stage calmly, his legs conquering the steps in no time. He looked determined and happy, but YN knew better—that's what they taught them to present. Ruthless. Bloodthirsty. Killers. She hears distant cries from the crowd behind her—it's probably Miss Hadley. YN clenches her jaw, her teeth grinding together until her head rings. It isn't the time for her to break.

Cato can't bear to watch his mother's puffy face as she clenches her arms around him, whispering something like a prayer into his chest. His father is silent, a lonely tear escaping his eye as he holds Cato's youngest brother closer. The twins are also here; both of them are at the academy, so they have a faint idea of what he is doing. They tell him he will win because of how big he is, and that will be very easy. Cato smiles at them reassuringly—if only it were that easy.

''Dad,'' he nods in the direction of his crying mother.

''Come on, darling, you will upset him before the games,'' his father tells her, carefully pulling her way and placing a hand on Cato's shoulder. ''Stay strong, my boy. We will all be rooting for you every second you are in that arena; don't forget that.''

''Thank you, dad. Boys,'' he watches as twins show each other away, trying to get to bed first. He hugs them both; he has two hands for a reason. ''Behave and don't bother mom too much, or I'll have to kick your ass once I get back,'' he whispers into their heads.

The youngest one waves goodbye, blowing him a kiss. Cato smiles, watching his family leave the room. He wants to remember this moment forever, to put it in his pocket, and to never let it go. He knows why he is doing this—for them to have a better chance at life, for his father to finally have a day off, and for his mom to have new pots she secretly gazed at when she thought he wasn't looking.

''Hadley. Seven minutes.'' The peacekeeper announces, opening the door once more, even though Cato doesn't expect anyone else. Well, he hoped she would come—he really wanted her to—but he believed she never would. YN is not the type. Still, she is here. Closing the door behind her, in a simple blue jumpsuit and a nice scarf around her head.

''Hi,'' she nods. ''I came to say goodbye.''

Cato's heart skips a beat—those words hit harder than seeing himself on the big screens, with a tribute written under them. Soon, he may be dead; she will watch him on her small TV in the living room.

YN speaks quickly, almost in a rush. ''I know we don't speak anymore, but I know how you fight—you are capable of winning more than everyone else out there. Please, just don't think too much about what you are doing; just do it, okay?''

''Yeah, I'll try.'' He finds it weird that she doesn't want him to think, but Cato doesn't question why—she does know him better than anyone, having been training for a lot of years side by side.

''You have to return; your family needs you.''

''Don't worry too much about them; we already got the money for my volunteering from the mayor. They will be fine; dad can still work, and twins could help out. You have enough on your shoulders as it is. How is Grandpa Marc?''

''Better. He can't move like he used to and still needs help with walking and eating, but other than that, it's good. Although he is devastated that I didn't let him handle the meat, you should've seen how he tried to sneak a few knives at night.''

Cato's lips turn into a smile. ''That does sound like him.''

''Oh, I almost forgot. Here,'' YN rumbles in her pockets before taking a few pieces of candy out. ''We thought you should have a few.''

''You are kidding me? Lucky-talkies? I haven't had one in ages!''

YN laughs at his excitement, carefully placing the sweets in his hand. ''I know. They are as hard as they used to be; don't chip your tooth; it'll look bad at the promotion.''

Cato chuckles, pocketing the candy before his mentors have a chance to take it away. ''Thanks, YN. For everything.''

''I'll give you as much as you want if you don't die in there. Just try to stay alive, okay?''

''Easier said than done. But I'll try.''

YN smiles. Their time is up. The peacekeeper opens the door for her, his gun tangling dangerously around his neck. She doesn't turn around as she exits; her walk is steady. Cato thinks that he caught her shoulders shaking, but it could be just a twist of his tired brain.

The days after that are agony. YN doesn't know if it was her tiredness that finally caught her in a narrow corner or the grim reality of her life—it was definitely both. Even her favourite silent friend didn't cheer her up like it used to—the sun shone almost violently, burning her skin and leaving her body dizzy. The rotten cycle was now worsened by the non-stopping playing of what seemed to be a thousand screens, with stomach-curling screams echoing from time to time. They were everywhere—at the shop and their small flat above it, on the main square she passed each day, and, what was worse, they were at the factory, where she couldn't pretend to watch even for a second.

The work she does is heavy—carving the stones on the machinery bigger than her; her muscles were constantly aching, begging for a break. The suit she wore was too tight and too hot, and the annoying voice of the announcer blared through the speakers, stealing the air in her lungs. YN wanted nothing but to make it stop—for the world to go silent and still, even if just for a moment. But wonders didn't happen with people like her, so she continued to work, pushing herself through her gritted teeth.

''Welcome, welcome to what seems to be the last day in this beautiful arena!'' The blue-haired man spoke, his accent making YN's head hurt even more. ''To remind our dear viewers all across the Panem, here is a small recap from my colleague and sometimes friend, Claudius.''

''Thank you, Caesar. We are left with only three tributes on day eighteen—the first, of course, being Cato from District 2. His strategy has proved efficient so far; no doubt, he is one of the best contestants we've seen in a long time. And then, much to my surprise, a pair of tributes from District 12 are still in the games—their love story truly captivated the audience. Let's see what this day, or should we say night, brings us today and who will have the odds in their favour in the end.''

YN doesn't react to their comments; it feels wrong to compare herself to the kids out there, being selfish enough to think she deserves a break. She should be counting her lucky stars; it isn't her there, going through the bodies of the competitors one by one. Cato received body armour from the sponsors; that was good. He also lost his district partner; YN remembers her now; she was in his ''new'' friend group. She feels sorry for the girl; her death was awful, and her screaming Cato's name will forever be engraved in YN's memory.

''Aha, here he is! Our gladiator from District 2—he is running from—what's that?—wolves! Look at that speed—he surely is a good runner!''

YN turns her attention to the giant screen—surely enough, Cato is running from some monstrous creatures. He is bloodied; his skin is covered in bruises. YN prays it all will stop soon and he will get home safe. He doesn't even flinch when the arrow shot by twelve hits his chest; he just keeps running towards the Cornucopia.

''Please,'' YN whispers. He can't die, not when he has survived for so long.

''Look at them—all of the tributes managed to get on the Cornucopia just in time! Oh, here is a clever move from Cato's side: having Peeta in a headlock is a classic move. Now, he is sort of a ''human shield''. Brilliant!''

"Go on, shoot.'' Cato's voice booms through the speakers, sending shivers down YN's back. She missed hearing his voice, but it didn't even sound like him anymore. Like a stranger talking from the inside of what looked like her friend. '' And we both go down, and you win. Go on. I'm dead, anyway! I always was, right? I didn't know that until now. Isn't that what they want, huh?''

What the fuck was he doing? YN's mind raced—why won't he just kill him and get it over with? She doesn't notice how her hands begin to shake and how everyone else in the room seems to be eyeing her.

''No! I can still do this. I can still do this. One more kill. It's the only thing I know how to do. Bring pride to my district. Not that it matters."

''Kill him! For fuck's sake, just kill him!'' YN stands up, her nerves getting the best of her. Her voice echoes—she didn't mean to say it out loud.

''No talking!'' The peacekeeper in front of her shouts, his hand steady on the gun.

YN turns to face him slowly. Who was he to tell her to shut up when it was her friend who was dying right before her eyes? She feels her hands clench into fists; she will be able to take him down in a fight, maybe even kill him. YN was willing to try, at least.

''She won't talk no more,'' one of the older men in the group mutters, his voice bitter. ''Sit down, child.''

YN wants to argue, wants to scream or run until the bullet catches up to her, but she doesn't. What use would her dead body be to her grandpa? So she sits down, biting her cheek until her mouth fills with a familiar iron taste. Everything she wants to say, she tastes in her throat instead.

''Wait, can we zoom in on here?'' One of the announcers asks. ''Here, yes, what exactly are they staring at? It fell from Cato's pocket, right?''

'''Well, Claudius, it looks like a candy wrap to me. The real question is: why does Cato have one in the first place? He didn't strike me as a big sweets fan. ''

''Well, whatever it is, it seems to have changed his mind—look at how masterfully he throws Peeta down, like a feather! Oh, and now he is lurching for the girl on fire!''

A loud snap is heard through the speakers, and the girl falls, lifeless. YN covers her face with her hands, the dirt from them leaving a mark on her sweaty face. A choir of relieved exhales rings through the room.

''Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have our 75th victor!''

It's hard, the first thing Cato realizes. Being here, breathing in the air that feels like spikes inside his lungs—everything was supposed to be easy, but it's so far from that. They have a nice house now; it has a room for each of his brothers, and even twins don't have to share anymore. His dad doesn't work; it's not fitting for victor's family to do so, so he takes up gardening instead. If a few years ago Cato heard that his father would ramble about how badly roses had grown on this soil, he would've checked himself into a mental asylum.

He isn't very loved in the Capitol, but his mentors said it was for the best. Cato believes them, but it stings a little. He wanted glory but got disgusted instead. It was not a fair trade, but at least his debt is paid, as is his brothers'. Money could buy a lot of things, just like he predicted, but it couldn't buy him peace. Cato has nothing ahead of him; he can't study like his peers do, can't work, can't live, and pretend it didn't happen. It very much did—when he closes his eyes, he can still smell the blood on his hands.

That's why he is here instead of Victor's village, eating ice cream on the empty main square in the warm evening. It's funny to think how he wanted to try it, collecting the money his father let him have for almost a year before ordering his first chocolate scoop. It was the tastiest thing he had ever eaten; now, it tasted just like every other one.

He hears the nearing footsteps—the people are returning from the day shift in the factories. Cato nods to a few of them—old neighbours, parents of classmates, or dad's friends. The men are all different—short and tall, ginger, blond and brunette—but they all bear the same expression that Capitoleers called ''a district 2 glare'' once. Cato used to get angry when he heard it, but now his face is no different—the word is a heavy thing to endure.

His eyes drift to the only person looking up and not on the road ahead—of course, it's YN. She thinks about something only she and the sun know, her steps mirroring those of the people ahead. One of the men notices him watching; he gently shoves her shoulder, whispering something in her ear before pointing in the direction of his seat. Suddenly, Cato wants to hide the ice cream in his hand and run away, but he doesn't.

''Enjoying your victory, Mister Hadley?'' Her voice is loud and filled with teasing, and a few men snicker at them.

Cato isn't angry; he deserves it, quite frankly. ''Always was known for the sweet tooth,'' he shrugs. ''As a matter of fact, are you free any time soon?'' He asks when the crowd is far enough away.

YN raises an eyebrow at him. ''Why is that? You know I work.''

''I was hoping you and your grandpa could come by sometime. Mom is awfully lonely, and the boys would love to see you, too.''

She nods. ''I am free on Sunday, but Grandpa is still a little shy about eating in front of people.''

''I'll ask mom to cook a soup then—it's better?'' He would cook the damn soup himself if it meant seeing her for longer than five minutes. If it meant not being alone in that house, that reeked of the arena.

''Yes, I think we can do that. What about 12? We could be a little late with all that walking.''

''Thank you; it's perfect.''

YN smiles at him. For the first time since he won, someone smiled at him. Cato smiles back, although he is sure it comes out more as a grin. YN doesn't notice or pretends to do so.

''Oh, come in! Janus, come right down; the guests are here!''

YN and her grandpa are greeted with Miss Hadley's voice, her warm hands wrapping first around her, and then the older man. YN smiles; she missed just sitting down for a meal without having to worry about how much money she was going to need for the next one. The boys have grown. They shout, each trying to be the first to show her their own rooms and the cool things they have. YN tries not to get lost in the maze of toys, balls, books, and a thousand other different things, while Grandpa talks with Mr. Janus.

When the boys start to embark on what feels like a fifth circle around the house, Miss Hadley puts an end to it. ''That's enough! YN, darling, come sit here—what would you like to eat?''

The table is full of different things. There are so many that they could eat for a few weeks and be full. YN doesn't think she saw that many vegetables and fruits in her life. She asks for what everyone is having and is happy to have her plate full. Grandpa also seems to be enjoying himself; he insists on wearing his best shirt for the occasion and now listens attentively to what the twins have to say. They make a good team, YN thinks—twins finally found free ears that are not yet tired of them, and there is nothing that Grandpa loves more than a good story.

When the dinner is over, YN speaks, talking to Miss Hadley beside her. ''Thank you for the invitation; your house is just lovely.''

''Cato made us clean every corner of it before you came—I didn't even have time to play outside!'' The youngest boy whines, pouting slightly.

YN chuckles as she watches colour gather at Cato's ears, his eyes glued to the dish in front of him. ''Well, it was definitely worth it—I had the most marvelous time with you here. And the food was delicious! But I am afraid we have to go; Grandpa should walk when it's still light outside.''

''We will take you home,'' Cato announces, nodding to the twins to put on their shoes. They do so happily, grabbing them and their jackets before Grandpa has a chance to stand up and stick to his side like glue.

The evening is pleasant; the wind is quite chilly, but Cato doesn't mind. The only sound on the street is twins arguing over who will help Grandpa Marc with his cane for the next two minutes.

''Thank you for coming,'' he says, looking at the woman walking beside him.

''Of course. We had a good time, - I hope you did too. How's life been? We haven't talked in a while.''

''Good,'' Cato lies. ''And yours?''

''Better. Since your dad quit, I got the day shift; it pays better, and I can finally get rid of those horrible dark circles.''

Cato nods. ''I've been thinking a lot about our past these days, especially our childhood. It feels like a lifetime ago.''

''Things change,'' YN shrugs. ''We've grown and become different people since then. I would've never imagined working at the factory, but here I am. And you win the games—that was your dream.''

''Don't you miss it? How easy were things back then?''

YN smiles. ''They never were easy, I think; we just couldn't understand them properly. Besides, not much changed, if you think about it.''

''Maybe not for you.''

''Why?'' YN turns to look at him.

Cato swallows. ''YN, they made me different. The games, all those kills—they changed me.''

''You did what you had to survive. It doesn't matter now that you are here.''

''You think I don't notice how people tiptoe around me now? How can Mom stand to look at me for more than a minute? How do boys try to avoid me at all costs? And dad—he doesn't even speak to me! ''

YN is silent. Cato curses in his mind—he shouldn't have said that. He takes a deep breath. ''I'm sorry. It just feels weird. It's like I don't have a home to return to and can't get into a new one. Just hanging there, mid-air.''

''When Grandpa was in the hospital, that's how it felt. I was too young to be alone, but there was no choice but to watch as everything I once loved fell into ruins. I was supposed to be going to movies, partying, and sneaking out, not juggling the bills from medication and the shop. But life decided otherwise. So, I built my own home within myself—one that nothing could tear down or take away.''

''I don't think there is anything left to build on. I'm not like you; everything anyone sees when they look at me is a monster .''

''I don't.'' YN stops. ''I see the boy who brought me a pretty big book with pictures so I could give the change correctly; I see a man who volunteered for his family to have a chance at a better life. I see you, real you, not the role mentors or Capitol made you play. Just Cato.''

''Can I hug you?'' His voice is barely above a whisper.

YN doesn't answer - she just takes a step closer into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder.

''I'm sorry; I am so sorry for everything I've done," Cato mutters, his hands trembling as he holds onto YN tightly. ''I should've said it sooner. ''

''It doesn't matter now. We survived this; we are still here, you and I.''

Cato nods; his tears mix with hers, pooling in patches on his shirt. They are different—children who were forced to grow up too early in a world that wasn't for them. ''I think I never lost it—my home. It was always here, with you, on this street. Isn't it funny? All those years of searching, only to return here, where we truly belong?''

''The butcher's, you mean? If you wanted more candy, you could've just asked,'' YN smiles, whipping away her red eyes.

''Fucking finally,'' an aged voice mutters from behind the corner.

''Grandpa Marc!'' the twins turn to him, surprised.

The old man just smiles, his wrinkled face appearing younger with joy. ''Don't tell YN I said that. She'll never let me live it down."

The twins giggle, their happy laughter echoing on the street. A few moments later, Grandpa Marc joins in, his breathy laugh adding to the chorus. It's not the first time the street leading to the butcher's was woken up by sounds of joy, and he hoped it wouldn't be the last.

#imagine #hunger games #character x you #cato hunger games #cato hadley #cato x reader #cato hadley x reader #cato hadley fanfiction #the hunger games #district two #childhood friends to lovers #au #love this pookie so much #careers #thg cato

83 notes · View notes

bucknastysbabe · 11 months

Text

Forget me not or I’ll forget myself - Aegon II x Reader

And I pray that all the poppies they.

They will just fade away.

But fields of poppies they remain.

That's how they found me last time, dead

Rozz Williams - Flowers

Rating: Mature/Explicit

A/N: I just wanted a glimpse into how dreary the keep was before all things went to real Hell

Tags: Angst galore, burned Aeg after rook’s rest, younger sister reader, one sided love, heartbreak, handies, Poor Aeg, TW: opium usage, extreme pain, burns and blood, Helaena’s mental state, self harm, dub-con, mistaken identity, Alicent tries, sad ending

Alicent would let you finally enter Aegon’s quarters, where he laid asleep. She wouldn’t let you see him when the maesters were tending to the burns, the cries of your dear brother’s agony filling the halls.

Then silence. The silence frightened you more than anything. Helaena couldn’t comfort you, you could barely comfort her in her massive grief. Alicent and Aemond had to tend to the war. Ser Criston had joined them.

So it was just you and your two handmaidens, who had been shrugged off recently as you had become agitated. You couldn’t leave the keep and you worried for your dear dragon. Instead you wept and waited and wept, listening for his voice.

You had a betrothal but the recent upheaval had rendered it moot. You were glad because all you ever wanted was Aegon, flawed and irresponsible as he was. A Maester shuffled by and you hopped up, hands nervously tearing at your dress.

“Yes princess? He is stable, just bringing some sustenance and more milk of the poppy after I change his bandages.”

“The Dowager Queen said I may sit with the King, sir.”

The man held out an arm for you to grab, murmuring gently, “This will not be a pretty sight m’lady. Our king is holding strong but, ahem, dragonflame has done its damage,” the elder Maester paused, “Mayhaps you can hold his undamaged hand while I change the linens?” You nodded vigorously, heart beating faster and faster.

A Kingsguard silently opened the door to the dimly lit room. It looked much different than when Viserys was there. The replication of Valyria your father worked on was moved to underneath the keep at the behest of Aegon.

You could see Aegon’s form on the wide bed, covered in oozing bandages, his arm tightly wrapped. The Maester shushed you, “Quiet now my princess, he is in a delicate state.” Holding a trembling hand over your mouth you followed the short Maester, who directed for you to sit on the other side of the bed.

Aegon shifted and mumbled, half of his gorgeous face covered in linen. You hoped it wasn’t as bad as Viserys had become. The gaping holes, gnashing teeth.

“Sire, it’s Maester Merand, I’ve come to change your linens for Orwyle. Your younger sister is here.”

A bloodshot purple eye hazily regarded you. He rasped, lungs and throat still charred from fire, “Dear sister, you don’t need to see this. Please.” You shook your head and grabbed his scabbed but not severely burnt hand, squeezing. Your breath came out a warble as you tried not to cry, “You need family big brother, let me stay please?”

He regarded the Maester, then back to you, “Hold me tight songbird.” Hot tears streamed down your face as he opened his mouth for a bite to be put in, hand gripped roughly around your smaller one. Another Maester, younger, shuffled in to assist with a wooden table of sorts.

Merand hummed and dosed Aegon with the milk of the poppy through the bite-piece, your brother’s body immediately going lax with a soft moan. The elder Maester said, “Be still and hold him, that is all your King needs.” You nodded, more tears staining your ashen cheeks. They unpeeled the yellowish bandaging, Aegon’s body stiffened as he began to howl— purple eyes wide with pain.

His hand shook and trembled you putting your other hand on top and shushing, “Shhh, it’ll feel better after, gods bless you.” He screamed louder as Merand rubbed a balm on the burnt flesh of his cheek, ear and neck. The scarring ran twisted hot and angry down his torso.

“Just fucking kill me you beast!,” Aegon hissed through his bite. His hand hurt yours but you bared it for dear Aegon.

Your brows furrowed as they patched up his body and head. Aegon writhed in pain when they unwrapped the arm, the worst from what you had heard. Metal fused to flesh. You held back a retch at the sight, eyes blown wide, unable to stop staring at the blackened twisted flesh.

“Gods please! No more! Strike me down for my sins, anything other than this,” he raged.

Still you held on. The younger Maester had to come and hold him down as Aegon jerked around so much. Your brother hissed, cursed, and wept by the end of the process. Merand gently lifted him up into a sitting position, you moving to follow along. They had to get his back and shoulder now.

Then it was over. Merand dosed him with some healing herbal concoctions and a hearty amount of milk of the poppy. Aegon sobbed softly, tears staining his new bandages. You stroked away a tear on his new cheek as the man began to fade into those dreamless poppy slumbers.

“May I stay Maester Merand?,” you asked.

He fiddled with a chainlink before humming, “I don’t think you would be causing any issues. My assistant will be back for supper. Just let him rest and be there for your king.”

The table, sounds of metals clinking, and shuffling stopped. Only the burning of the wooden wicks and Aegon’s ragged breathing filled the room. His hand was still intertwined with your own, but loosened from sleep. You pet his silver hair, singing the songs he used to demand from you over and over again, drunkenly smiling like you meant the world to him.

“Sing songbird sing,” he’d cheer, cheeks rosy and full lips split into a grin.

Your lips trembled as you cried over him, eventually falling asleep when you grew numb from it all. They awoke you and him for supper, letting you spoon feed Aegon the soup. He said in a slurred murmur, “You’re too kind songbird. Didn’t you..have..have a betrothal?”

“War broke out remember? No time for a wedding and I have a dragon.”

He frowned slightly. Aegon slurped softly and swallowed. “Right..I’ll find you a husband when I feel better. It’s much less…the word..uh…lonely when you’re here. So that will wait.”

Your heart hurt. You didn’t want to be married, but the chance of having him was impossible. You’d just spend the time you could while he healed, pretending to be the dutiful wife. You stroked his soft hair and hummed, “Would you like me to sing you a tune to sleep? I have your poppy milk.”

He sighed, “Please.”

Off he slumbered, to the tune of The Dornishman’s wife. His favorite bawdy song. You wept again. You wondered if that’s all you were capable of now. For now you’d go and change, bathe, actually see your handmaidens before returning. Hopefully your mother will be absent so she couldn’t see your wrecked state.

Feeling more refreshed, you stared at your lilac eyes in the mirror. Much lighter than Aegon’s, but your hair was the same, soft waves of white. Cyrella wove your locks into pretty braids. You’d decided to go see Helaena today, since your other lady Jaina had informed you the Dowager Queen was in Aegon’s quarters for the changing of his linens.

Climbing to her chambers you could already hear maddened weeping. You knew Maelor and Jaehaera were largely taken care of by a Septa and wetnurse. Coming into her room you gasped. It was a mess, shredded and priceless items broken. Helaena, her once gorgeous hair— a rats nest. It smelled of unwashed linens and sickness. Sickness of the mind.

“Hel? It’s me, your sister.”

She peered at you with wide purple eyes, red rimmed and shot out. She murmured, “Sister.” Then returned to rocking by the window. You drew closer to her, slowly, eventually kneeling by her side. Helaena only wore a stained shift, dirtied and bloody. You noticed the claw marks on her wrists and sucked in a breath.

“Hel?”

Your elder sister stared forward, mumbling incoherence about blood and cheese cheese and blood blood blood! She shouted the last part at you, making you topple backward some. You grabbed her arm and held tight from her thrashing and wailing, pinning her grief stricken figure to the ground until she stilled.

Helaena howled with agony, “I didn’t know, I’m so sorry, it should’ve been me! Jaehaerys forgive me!” She cried in hoarse agony, shaking underneath. You let her cry until she softly moaned her dead child’s name. Petting her skinny side you murmured, “Let me draw you a bath, okay? Just one. Then I will leave you be.”

She nodded, “Okay.”

You scrubbed her scabbed body, taking care to clean and remove any dirt or budding infection. Helaena stated, “I can’t get clean. It’s under the skin. All of us. Foul blood.” Ignoring her statement you worked on Hel’s scraggly hair while a handmaiden clipped sharpened nails to the nub. It would at the least stop the severity of the wounds.

Helaena’s hair was falling out in thick chunks, you holding back tears as you got her blonde waves back into order. Your elder sister asked, “Will the gods forgive me?” You patted her back and hummed, “The Mother knows your pain, she will take mercy on you. That I know Helaena dear. Let’s get you to bed.”

The room was cleaned and bed changed while you took care of the queen. She stated in that glassy way of hers before you left, “Thank you. The walls will bleed black and scorching sister.”

An uneasy feeling settled in your gut. Hands clenched in your dress you walked through Maegor’s Holdfast, going to see Aegon for the night.

The regal frame of your mother exited as you approached the chamber. She eyed you strangely, but pulled you into a hug with a deep sigh. “It’s horrid around here mummy,” you whimpered. Unbidden tears fell down your cheeks as your mother held you tighter, letting you cry it out.

“All I can do is cry. I feel so alone and half of my family is here mum.”

Her brows furrowed in distress, slim hands on your arms. Alicent said, “You’re doing the best you can dearest. I’m very proud of you. Tending to Aegon, he mentioned you singing to him.”

You smiled gently, but grew teary again.

“I visited Helaena. Washed her and got the room changed. I fear she may…do something drastic mummy. Sh-she’s clawing at her skin, saying she can’t get clean.” Alicent kissed your forehead, hands clasping slim shoulders. “You and Daeron. My sweetest babes. I’ll have to install someone for Helaena. The gods smile upon you and I will pray for your pain. I love you, so, so much. Go be there for him.”

You nodded shakily, hugging your mother again for what felt like forever. It was a temporary balm for your aching soul. She left, presumably to your sister’s quarters. You entered to Aegon who was hazy and trembly after what seemed like a fresh change of linens.

You clambered onto the huge bed, checking Aegon’s face for discomfort. He was barely awake, nodding off in short bursts. His lash’s fluttered over his face. The king murmured, “Oh, it’s been so long. I’m glad you’re here.”

“So long since what my King?”

“I’ve been held, touched, caressed,” he listlessly rambled.

His good hand, already intertwined with yours, drug it toward the bulge between his legs. Aegon cheerily slurred, “S’at red bitch didn’t burn it.” You inhaled sharply, eyes widening. He wanted you to pleasure him? You were a maiden. Aegon’s eyes remained closed but he shot you a dopey grin, “C’mon jus’ a hand will you? Know it’ll be good.”

Your nethers twitched and you looked around like a spy may arrive any second. Oh how you wanted this for life. Aegon wanting you, you only. The guilt for Hel ate at your spine, but lust won out.

“Yes my king, I’ll take care of you.”

“Good girl,” he rasped, head swaying. They must’ve messed up the dosage, Aegon was strangely semi-coherent. You knew there was slick involved in this carnal action. Turning around you found something labeled “aloe” and poured it onto your left hand. Your cheeks began to grow darker at the task at hand.

“Quit bein’ a maiden, M’ready sweets,” he cooed.

You batted his good hand away and unlaced his breeches, pulling out his flushed cock. You whimpered under your breath. It was ruddy and leaking, for you, for you! Hastily you covered the stiff member with your thickly slathered aloe and squeezed tentatively, unsure what to do.

Aegon arched a bit and huffed, “Y’know what to do, playin coy, squeeze and pull, twis’ on the head. I’m burned nuh’ impotent!”

You did as he asked, your hand squelching luridly as Aegon panted and moaned softly. You felt as if you were burning up, an inquisitive hand coming down to cup his heavy sac, his voice growing deeper and more needy.

“There we go, good baby, yesss, yes.”

He was biting his plump lip when your twisting hand focused on the top, liking the way he’d subtly whimper when you’d slide a thumb across the pretty crown. He gasped, “Fuck yes, ah, who brought you up here? Gonna cum!”

Brought you up here? He was delirious, whatever.

“Please my king, come for me,” you begged, so eager to receive his affections. His right hand curled into your waves, pulling you close to his mouth, sharing light kisses, gentle as not to irritate. He panted into your mouth as his cock twitched and spurt onto your hand and his belly.

“Oh, fuck, Selys, Selys baby, thank you. Whoever brought you to me deserves some dragons. Tell the kingsguard to sneak you out, my little sister will be coming, sadly too soon.”

You sat back with a strangled noise, mortification flooding your system. You wiped your disgusting hands all over the covers, soft sobs starting to bubble up. In a rush you pulled back from Aegon’s embrace, belly twisted and chest aching.

“Selys?”

You whimpered, “M’not fucking Selys, why would they bring a whore that could poison you?”

Aegon’s poppy induced state cleared somewhat from shock, him leaning up with a choked noise. He echoed your name, eyes flicking down to his cock and your flushed face, pretty waves, and broken posture. You held yourself tightly and apologized, “I should have known, you were under the poppy, I should’ve just left.”

Aegon struggled further but the pain laid him back down. He sounded desperate, “No, songbird, I-I- I didn’t know, that was sick. Don’t leave me please? You’re all that’s good here.”

“Sadly soon,” you sobbed.

His face crumped in guilt, rage, frustration. You steeled yourself some, compacting that soft gaping maw of love and tenderness for him in a dark place. Maybe to be opened later. Aegon reached for you, pathetically pleading, “Don’t leave me, they always do, don’t.”

“I’ll see if I can seek Selys for you. I thought you wanted me, Aeg. For once.”

He faltered for words, eyes glassy and saddened.

“Good night my King. I’ll send a Maester for more medicine. You strained yourself.”

You ignored the desperate pleas for your name. He really didn’t know any better, you shouldn’t be so cruel. But when your heart was cracked and bleeding on the floor it was hard not to be cold.

Ser Criston was in the hall, making his way for Aegon’s quarters. He did a double take, stopping to peer at your swollen face and mussed hair. You flatly stated, “They didn’t get his dosage right, he’s in pain.” The hand frowned and asked, “What is wrong?”

“I do not wish to speak of it. Where is Prince Regent Aemond?”

Criston stared at you with a look of worry, lips moving in thought. He sighed, “In the library my princess.”

Off your went, holding back sobs of rage and utter sadness.

“Duskmere is ready for battle. Send me to Daeron, the north, wherever. I am tired of sitting around here. I thirst for black blood, brother of mine.”

Aemond stared at you long and hard before his thin lips turned into a calculated smile. The one-eye hummed, “Splendid sister. Was waiting for you to stop mooning over the invalid and our mad sister. We plan later this evening.”

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd smut #aegon ii x reader #angst

269 notes · View notes

kay-elle-cee · 7 months

Text

@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 11 || 828 Words || Read on Ao3 —

Unlike most days, Lily’s awakened not by the light filtering through the gap in her curtains, but the smell of bacon. In fact, as she blinks and takes in the ceiling above her, she realizes there’s barely any light in the room at all, though the sounds on the street below indicate that it’s definitely a time of day when people are out and about.

She stretches lazily, blinking a few more times to adjust to the darkness, and is hit with the sudden realization—

This isn’t her room.

She shoots straight up in the bed, a small squeak escaping as the covers fall to her waist and she realizes she’s completely exposed in this strange room. Footsteps outside the door announce someone’s approach and she scrambles to pull the covers up to her chest, mind racing through the haze of pulsating music, flashing lights, and alcohol.

The door opens quietly, and she sees the head of a man pop through—wild, black curls falling across the top of square-framed glasses, a curious look on his face that gives way to a small smile.

Oh. She remembers him.

Through the haze of the night cuts certain sensations: warm hands running gently across the skin of her back, the taste of cinnamon and whisky against soft lips and an exploring tongue, the way desire had pooled hot and tight in her abdomen as lips and teeth trailed up the inside of her thighs with a teasingly rough—

“Hi,” he says, moving through the door slowly, and Lily can spot the culprit of the wake-up aroma. In his hands (his warm, gentle hands) is a tray with a few rashers of bacon, toast, a small bowl of porridge, and black tea with a little thimble of milk next to it.

“Hi,” Lily breathes, brows furrowing as she takes all of this in and pulls her mind from the memories of last night. “What’s all of this?”

The man places the tray beside her, still taking care to stand, and she’s floored to see his smile take on a decidedly bashful quality as his now free hand runs through his black curls (oh yeah, she remembers that too.) “Sorry if it’s a bit overkill, I don’t really know what you like.” A pause. “I don’t really know you at all.”

Lily’s eyes travel down to the food beside her and back up. It’s so…nice. Something has to be amiss. “Are you about to tell me we didn’t use a condom or something?”

His face reddens and he chokes on something between mortification and a laugh before regaining his senses. “No! No, absolutely—of course not—I mean of course we did—I just…” he trails off, pursing his lips as he looks around the room, undoubtedly searching for the words to say what he needs to say.

Satisfied enough during his silence, Lily’s grip on the quilt tightens with one hand as she reaches for a piece of toast, eyes on him as she waits.

He sighs and his gaze meets hers once more. “I don’t…well…fuck…” he rubs his forehead. “I don’t remember your name and I feel like an absolute dick about it.”

Lily blinks before throwing her head back in a laugh. When she looks at him again, she notices the tension in his shoulders has eased and he’s lost some of the utter mortification from his face.

“So you made me breakfast in bed to apologize?”

A flush crawls up his neck and Lily’s eyes are drawn to a darker spot just below his ear that is undoubtedly her handiwork—oops. “I mean it’s also, you know, polite. But I was feeling awful about it the whole time.”

She takes a bite of the toast. “You know, most guys wouldn’t put in half this effort whether they remembered my name or not.”

“Well those guys are knobs,” the man replies with a furrow in his brow. Lily hums in agreement, setting the toast down and reaching for the mug of tea.

“I might be a bit of a knob as well,” she confesses, hiding her smile behind the rim of the mug, “because I’ve forgotten your name, too.”

He sinks down on the very corner of the bed (his bed, Lily thinks), a sigh of relief rushing out of his lungs as a mischievous smile tugs at his lips. “And you waited this long to tell me?”

Lily grins back, shrugging before tucking the quilt under her tea-holding arm to keep the modesty cover in place (though he’s seen it all) and extending the empty hand to him.

“Lily Evans. Pleasure to re-meet you.”

“James Potter,” he states as he takes her hand, and the electricity of his touch shoots straight up her arm, to her spine, and down to somewhere low in her abdomen. “Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”

“Not all yours,” she comments lightly, and revels in the way his grasp on her hand tightens ever-so-slightly at the words.

#it's (always) you #jilytober2023 #james potter #lily evans #jily #jple #31 prompts #this is one of my favorites I will not lie

80 notes · View notes

malavera · 1 year

Text

18+ From the Window Series: From the Kitchen — Tom Cruise

↳ You’re the young hot neighbor who’s staying with your Aunt for the whole Summer and your Aunt happens to be Tom Cruise’s neighbor and they’re very good friends. You being 26 and still living the life to the fullest, of course you gotta add more spices in life—By being the naughty neighbor towards her Aunt’s 59 year’s old neighbor.

summary: you and your aunt visited Tom on his day off.

warnings: 18+, the big age gap, very kinky, the use of a word ‘kitten’, tom cruise being the sigma person as he is, oral (m receiving), fingerfucking, p in v from the back, fucking on the counter, creampie, basically this part is smut so just brace yourself – minors dni! cuz i suck at warnings.

tagging: @tomsf18 @deanscroissant @moondustfairies @helloitstsyu @call-sign-shark @love2write2626 @back-tooo-black

check out the series!

The breezy Sunday morning made Tom wanted to stay in. He loves enjoying a one breezy day engulfed in the warmth of his home. Other than that, he shouldn't be back on the set in 2 days, might as well spend the time relaxing or do some chores around the house. Despite being Hollywood Royalty, when he gets a chance for a mini break, he'd love to have the house all to himself and excuse his staff at home to go home. He loves doing things by himself, though he needs them around when he's not around to take care of the house.

Coffee is the law. Starting your day without a cup of coffee would be something that Tom believes it’s the most important beverage, aside from water, to start the day. Grabbing the pot to pour the black liquid to his cup, his eyes never leaving his iPad screen flipping through the digital pages. This is one of the routines that Tom does in the morning to keep himself aligned with his ‘chakra’. Tom snorted to himself when he reads a headline of an article that says, Why men over 40’s should not be looking for women under 30’s.

He poured a milk to his cup before stirring the liquid to mix them together. His thumb scrolls down through the article, aiming to read the point. Overall, it says that it’s like watching a 25 year old man being in a relationship with a 15 year old girl. He shrugged to himself, nodding to the point as well as bringing the cup to his mouth.

He agrees.

He couldn’t imagine himself dating a woman who’s not in their 30’s especially in his age. But, a certain someone could make an exception to that article. His whole perspective has gone away once he opens his front door to his neighbor with her young niece, carrying a plate of cookies. Maria greets him with a good morning with a cheery tone laced in her voice, said ‘We never seen you leaving the house and we thought why not share you these cookies that we’ve baked.’

Tom’s lips slightly parted, his eyes were set behind the lovely madam, who’s carrying the plate of cookies, on her particularly, beautiful, hot, young niece who gave him a show… 2 days ago. The corner of her lips pulled into a smirk, her hairs tucked behind her ears, she’s wearing a sundress that ends on her mid thighs despite the breezy weather. Tom snapped back to reality, shifting his attention to Maria.

“That’s very kind of you, thank you. Would you like to come in?” With his 1 billion dollar smile, who wouldn’t accept the sweet gesture. They both stepped in as Tom leads them towards the living room.

“Oh yes! I don’t think I’ve introduced you to my niece… This is, Y/N. She’s staying for the whole summer to help me out with my clothing-line business.”

“I see.” Tom nodded with a teethed smile.

“Show your manners, girl! You’re not 17 anymore. Why should I keep doing this to you?” Maria hissed to her niece’s ears, nothing but a grin plastered on her face.

“You have a lovely home, mister Cruise.”

His heart seemed to skipped a beat when he heard you spoke. With a pursed lips, his smile never leaving his face as he nods a long. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“How was Heather?”

Heather? Who’s Heather? The charmer has left the room. You couldn’t help but become curious to this Heather, is she an important person in his life? Is he seeing someone? You know you have no right to pry, but you just can’t imagine walking into your bedroom looking at your window to find this Heather girl bouncing on top of what’s yours. Your aunt and Tom chatted and laughed here and there for a good 5 minutes before her phone rang as she excused herself out to take the phone call, leaving both of you alone.

“A glass of milk would go with the cookies.” The charmer has returned. Tom’s shoulders tensed a little when he heard you spoke. He watched you push yourself off from his leathered sofa before you bend, a little too much just to grab the plate of cookies from the coffee table, exposing your cleavage.

“I’m gonna warm these up, would you mind showing the Kitchen, mister Cruise?” Your angelic voice seemed to have almost put Tom in a trance. He cleared his throat before he opens his mouth to navigate you through his house. Once you leave the room, your Aunt came back.

“What is she doing?”

“She’s helping me heat up those cookies which, thank you again by the way.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem. Y/N woke up early today, I don’t know if the girl even sleeps but I woke up to the smell of freshly baked cookies. Those are really good, you should definitely try it later by the way, and oh.. She then said she wanted to share those with you but she’s too shy to come over and knock on your door,” Maria chuckled. “So, she asked me to come with her.”

Shy? Tom doesn’t think that it’s the suitable word coming out from you. He doesn’t think that the action that you just pulled, 2 days ago, for him was you being Shy. Tom chuckles to himself, he remembered every detail. He remembered your smooth legs, your rounded ass, your pink plump lips. Best believe, he planned on doing something about what you pulled. But, he stopped himself realizing that he doesn’t know about this young neighbor. Especially, he doesn’t know about her age.

“Oh, Tom? Would you tell Y/N that I’m leaving to run an errand? Tell her to clean up the kitchen later too. I really need to go.”

“It’s no problem, Maria.”

You’ve been in his kitchen for such a long time when Tom came back to the living room. A shattered sound he could heard from the living room and a grunt coming out from your mouth. Tom hurried off towards his Kitchen but forced himself to stop once he sees you bend down on your knees against the tiled floor.

Your ass is on display to him…

No panties.

It was indeed an accident—you accidentally elbowed the bottle of milk which caused it to fall down to the floor. The bottle shattered, some of the milk had splattered to your legs before you got down on your knees trying to wipe them clean using the towel from the stove. You turned your head to your shoulder to find Tom frozen, watching the whole thing.

“I’m so sorry, mister Cruise! It was an accident, I-” You couldn’t finish your sentence before Tom has got you back on your feet as he tugs at your arm. You shrieked when he pushed you against the counter bending your over a little bit.

“What about that stunt you pulled 2 days ago? Was that an accident too?” Tom hissed in your ear, you whimpered but you smirked. Grinding your ass against his front, Tom grunted looking down watching you rubbing your ass like a dog.

Release the girl, Tom.

She’s just a kid, but such a slut—she needs to be punished for what she has done.

She needs to be punished right? What did she do? She spilled your bottle of milk that you could easily get another 5 bottles if you want to. Let her go.

Tom chose to ignore his conscience. His arm circled to wrap around your front, before pulling it down towards your heat. His fingertips grazed against your pussy folds before playing with your clit, his middle finger rubs up and down separating your pussy folds before he went down to tease your hole, soaking his finger.

“You want this, right?” It was a rhetorical question before he shoved one finger inside your cunt, earning a loud gasp. Tom placed his face on the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent through your soft hair. You smell so sweet, and a little hint of apple.

“I know you’ve always wanted this, Kitten.” He thrusts his finger in and out of your cunt, he enjoys listening to your little moans and grunts before he adds another finger.

He curls them inside you resulting a loud moan from you, “Mmhh… Yes, sir.” He takes it that you seemed to enjoy it more like that so he kept doing it. His cock grew hard by each seconds through your moans before he decides to undo his pants using one hand. He groaned in relief once his pants are on the floor, his cock slapping against his abdomen before he spits on his hand and give himself a couple of pumps.

He took out his fingers from your cunt, pushing you more to bend over the counter, placing his hands on your hips before he guides his cock towards your glistening entrance.

“I’m gonna fuck this pussy until I cum good.” Tom hissed in your ear before he wraps his hands around your throat and shoved his cock into your cunt. You gasped a choked moan out from your lips, finally living out your dream, feeling his thick cock inside your warm cunt.

A satisfied smile splattered on your face, your eyes rolled back as you listen to him grunt in your ears. He’s not going slow on you, he roughly drills his cock in your pussy sending you to oblivion, literally.

“Tom! I’m just dropping the keys for Y/N.” You shrieked and your eyes widened when you hear your aunt’s heels clicking against the floor in the living room. Tom’s hand went to clasp your mouth, his hips never stop thrusting upwards, almost made you stand on your tippy toes.

“Okay! I’ll let her know.” Tom hollered, pushing himself off from your back to grab your hips. When he aimed his hips at a certain angle, he found the G-spot resulting a muffled shrieked from you.

“Tom, is everything okay?” Tom clasped your mouth, hard.

“Yes, Maria! Everything is fine-” Tom couldn’t finish his sentence when he felt your pussy clenched on his cock.

“Okay, I’m leaving now!”

Tom grunted in relief before he proceed his action, bringing himself to his own release. “Listen up you slut! I’m gonna cum in this pussy, hard and she’s going to swallow everything. Not even a drop. You hear me?” Tom hissed.

“Y-yes.. Sir!” You whimpered.

“Mmh.. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum kitten.. Fuck!” He pressed his hips feeling himself releasing his load to your cunt, giving himself another thrust—his thighs vibrated from the sensation.

“Argh! Fuckkk…” Tom panted, soon he slowly pull out his softening cock. His hand went to cover your pussy by instinct, thinking his cum could be dropping out of it.

Your body feels weak but you pushed yourself off from the counter either way, turning your body to him. A sly smirk on your face before you grab a cookie from the plate. Tom watches as you took a bite from the cookie, your thumb went up to graze the corner of your lips before you chew.

“Have I lived out your fantasy too, Sir?”

#tom cruise #tom cruise fic #tom cruise smut #tom cruise x reader #tom cruise imagines #tom cruise imagine #tom cruise dirty imagine #tom cruise dirty imagines #tom cruise x female reader

171 notes · View notes