#and then they had a little tiff about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loganlermanstanaccount · 2 years ago

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Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara.

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things.

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax.

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration.

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers.

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler.

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words.

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers! How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?"

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!"

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling.

"I could do this all day, princesa. "

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure.

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit.

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive.

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time.

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far.

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him.

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar.

"You okay?"

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you. "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all."

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two.

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand.

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over.

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you.

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass.

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder.

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?"

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink.

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar.

He stretches out his hand, and you take it.

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words.

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck.

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do.

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him.

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you.

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer.

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in.

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness.

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him.

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension.

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip.

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck.

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders.

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out.

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper.

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile.

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face.

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more.

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words.

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is.

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate all your needs.

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order.

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk.

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach.

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -"

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains.

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary.

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-"

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious .

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body.

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something.

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up.

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?"

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression is steady, just as unreadable.

"Do you want to?"

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over.

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me."

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust.

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod.

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man.

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper.

"Fuck, Miguel."

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot.

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares.

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans.

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters.

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm.

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?"

You nod frantically with a stifled sob.

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please."

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?"

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks.

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers.

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath.

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought.

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy.

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum.

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago.

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process.

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?"

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles.

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa."

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #light angst #kat_writes😼#miguel o hara x reader #headcanon #miguel o'hara headcanons #jealousy

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gothicgaycowboy · 5 months ago

Text

𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 3.1k

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: you make Aemond’s longtime librarian fantasy come to life.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 18+ no minors, fem dom, sub aemond, a cock ring, oral sex (m receiving), deep throating, role play (kinda), unprotected sex, creampie, no use of y/n, edging (m receiving), both reader and aemond are little losers, established relationship, pet names, embarrassing family dinner conversations, a cameo from aemond’s lesbian moms and aegon.

𝙖/𝙣: this was originally going to be the beginning of my kinktober but I didn’t even get a chance to write out any of my other ideas in time. also big thank you to this anon who inspired this fic. hope you enjoy 💋

Up until now you thought you and your boyfriend had no secrets between you, but as it turns out you were wrong.

It started a week ago, you and Aemond drove up the countryside for a weekend to visit his family for Alicent’s birthday. Everyone tried their best to make it up there for big celebrations.

After three years together you feel like a member of the family yourself, Alicent and Rhaenyra even refer to you as their second daughter. You feel more at home with them than you do with your own family — and more importantly you felt like they couldn’t shock you anymore. That lasted until dinner.

Aegon and Aemond had gotten into a tiff about something juvenile that you can’t even remember anymore. Words tossed back and forth at one another from across the table like a tennis match. Rhaenyra was about to interject when Aegon blurted out: “Did you ever tell your sweetheart about what you did with my rag mag?”

Now that caught your attention.

Aemond’s face became beet red. His eyes practically bulged out of his skull in fear. Aegon smiled cockily at his brother’s expression, poking a forkful of their mothers dinner into his mouth.

Alicent and Rhaenyra tried to object to this conversation as soon as the word ‘rag mag’ was tossed out, but were cut short by your boyfriend.

“You wouldn’t.” It was clear Aemond was attempting to sound intimidating when it was obvious to everyone else he was fearing for his life.

“Oh, but I really would.” You vaguely remember overhearing Rhaenyra warn Alicent to cover her ears. Aegon turned his full attention to you, his eyes locked with yours. “When your precious boyfriend was still shorter than me he snuck into my room, snooped through my collection, and ripped out the naughty librarian spread all for himself.”

For the first time since you had met him Aemond became shy. You didn’t quite understand why exactly. Your boyfriend was no saint when it came to sex. He was the one who suggested most of your perverted ventures thus far, so why had he never told you this story himself?

After the table was cleared and conversation changed Aemond popped outside to take a quick smoke break — the perfect opportunity for you to interrogate Aegon a little more. You slid beside him as he washed that night's dishes like the good little son he can be occasionally.

“What was all that about?”

He glanced up at you briefly from the task in front of him. “What was all what about?”

“You know…” you suddenly realised how humiliating it was to talk about sex related topics with your boyfriend's brother. “The magazine drama?”

A knowing smirk crossed the Targaryen’s lips. “Ah, you want to know why Aemond threw such a fit about his little secret being outed.” He placed a white salad bowl onto the drying rack before facing you. “Well there are a few theories I have about it — first and most simple of all: maybe he was just embarrassed to have his middle school perversions exposed to our parents. I’m not too convinced by that one though given the simple fact that you two have been fucking at practically every family event you have been invited to thus far.”

It was then your turn for your cheeks to heat up with embarrassment, the memory of being caught half naked by Rhaenyra in the shoe closet still haunts you.

“So that leads me to my second theory: he’s ashamed of you knowing about his librarian fetish.”

Your brows pinched together quizzically. “But that doesn’t make any sense, we’ve done way crazier things together than a little kinky roleplay.”

Aegon closed his eyes and let out a long exhale like he was about to be sick. “I can’t express to you how much I didn’t want to know that.” You smiled at him apologetically letting out a timid ‘sorry’.

The purple eyed boy rubbed at his temples before opening his eyes again. “Okay, I’m probably gonna throw up later and really regret asking you this but: have you ever been in charge? Ya know, taken on the reins while you two are…” He held his hand over his stomach dramatically. “Having sex?”

your gaze remained on the clean kitchen floor as you answered his question. “No…”

“Well there you go, now if you’ll excuse me I need to go drink this conversation from my memory.”

Since that night you have been on a mission: make Aemond’s fantasy come to life.

It started like all good missions did — with a bit of thorough research of course. Aemond is a stickler for details and you needed all of them if you were going to pull this off successfully. The magazine from all the detail you managed to pull out of poor Aegon was a Hustler and based on the years Aemond would have been in middle school you managed to comb through every edition of Hustler during that time until you found it: the librarian spread.

This took you to the next step in your plan: the outfit. There wasn’t really much to it, obviously most of it was pulled off the models body in favour of showing off what was underneath, but you focused on what remained. Petite framed glasses, a white button up (tossed aside on the desk she sat on but you figured she was probably wearing it at some point in time), black pencil skirt, stockings, garter belt, and most importantly no panties.

All of this planning and waiting had finally led up to today. You have a day off to get your shit in order and Aemond’s shift ends early. You are quite proud of yourself honestly. Who knew being a research nerd could come in handy in the bedroom?

Now it was just time to see if Aemond appreciates it as much as you do.

From your spot in the kitchen you hear your boyfriend's keys enter the lock to your apartment – your cue to bolt into the bedroom. Inside the bedroom your heart races, nerves suddenly getting the best of you. What if he didn’t like it? What if he thinks you’re trying to belittle him? What if he thinks you look stupid?

“Baby?” Aemond calls from inside the main hallway.

“In the bedroom!” Well there was no going back now. Fuck it. You press play on the playlist you curated and pose yourself sitting on top of Aemond’s desk, just like the picture.

The door creaks open, revealing the white haired man to you. For a second he doesn’t look up, good eye still locked onto his phone. “What’s with the mu–” His eye meets with yours and stops him in his tracks. The bag he is carrying falls off his shoulder. The way he blushed at the birthday dinner has nothing on the state of his face now.

A few long moments pass by and the two of you remain perfectly still. It makes the knot in your stomach worse. “Please say something.” You beg as Aemond remains gobsmacked.

“You– how did – wh – you look–” He babbles like a small child.

“Please make it intelligible.” you try to lighten the mood as your hands play with each other anxiously.

It seems to shake Aemond out of his idiotict trance. “You look like the librarian from my magazine.”

“I do.” You change your tone to sound calm and collected while feeling like you’re about to explode inside.

“Why?”

“I thought you might appreciate it if I initiated something for once.”

Aemond soaks in the vision before him giving you a swift up and down glance. The pit continues growing in you but you refuse to let it show. “Do you?” You ask, impersonating all those sexually confident people you’ve seen in movies.

“I do.” Thank fuck.

Aemond rips the jacket from off his shoulders, practically running across the bedroom to reach you. He pulls you up off the desk but before he has the chance to kiss you you put a stop to him. Both hands push his face away but remain holding it so he’s forced to look at you. “Not so fast there mister.”

His face is priceless, a perfect mixture of confusion and desperation. “From now on I’m in charge, alright? You are going to lay there like the good boy I know you can be, while the sweet little librarian takes good care of you, understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” His pupil dilates so wide you can hardly see the usual violet colour of his iris.

“Yes you understand who?”

A surprise smirk graces your boyfriend's beautiful face. “Yes, I understand…ma’am.”

“Good, now take off your clothes and get on the bed.” In a flash Aemond’s clothes came flying off you like you have never seen before. You knew this would get him worked up but you did not expect him to be this into it.

As the Targaryen’s boxers hit the floor and he hits the plush mattress you pull open a bag holding your secret weapon for the night. With the ‘weapon’ hiding behind your back you move up the bed straddling his muscular thigh, sitting your bare cunt directly on his skin. His already hard cock twitches with excitement. “Fuck me, are you not wearing any–?”

“No.” you say plainly, like you did this everyday. “Now I’ve got a little something special for you before I completely blow your mind.”

“I really don’t see this getting better than it is but if you say so,” He shrugs his shoulders. “I trust you.”

From behind you you reveal it: a black rubber cock ring. “I wanna see you squirm.”

Aemond’s silver-blonde locks splay out onto the pillows as he plops his head back onto the pillows. “You are trying to kill me, woman.” He groans.

“Oh you love it.” With that you wrap your manicured hand around his cock, stretching the black rubber around the base.Your boyfriend jumps slightly at the contact. “How’s it feel?”

“Wonderful, now can we get on with the main event, please?”

“Don’t forget baby, you’re not the one calling the shots tonight. Be nice to me and I’ll be nice to you.”

“Always.” He smiles. You can’t help yourself against his charms, flopping onto him to plant a sweet kiss to his lips. He wastes no time reciprocating it, taking the kiss from zero to a hundred faster than you can snap your fingers. His tongue slithering its way into your mouth. Your moans vibrated against his lips. Aemond was definitely the best kisser out of all the guys you had been with.

You reach your right hand up pushing it between the two of you, separating your lips. Aemond is clearly about to protest as you cut him off. “Spit.” No bullshit, just straight to the point. Based on the focused expression on his face the dots are taking their sweet time to connect in his pretty little head. Then it clicks and Aemond looks like a kid in a candy shop. He leans over your palm, saliva dripping down into your hand.

As the spit sinks across your palm you reach down to rub the wetness around his throbbing cock, stroking him up and down painfully slowly. Your other hand makes its way to his heavy balls, massaging them delicately in between your fingers.

You always loved playing with Aemond’s cock, but you were never allowed to take your time with it. It’s the one thing you despise about your boyfriend constantly being the one in charge. This was your time to truly tease him like he had been teasing you since you got together.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for me?” You eye him over the glasses perched on your nose.

“Fuck yes!” Aemond yelps with pure euphoria.

“You kiss your mothers with that mouth?” You continue your teasing, the sound of the shucking filling the bedroom.

“No but I really wanna kiss you again — ma’am.” You appreciate that even though he was struggling through it he still uses your proper title.

“Come here baby.” Like a man starved Aemond pushes himself up to meet your lips once more. Now was your chance. With Aemond distracted by the kiss you slowly pull away your hand from his sack to grab the remote for the cock ring off the dresser. Time to hope he enjoys this little extra surprise.

Bzzz…

Aemonds hips slam up into your fist in shock. “Jesus- fuck!”

“Now you know how I feel, huh?” You say recalling all the times that the blonde had used your vibrators on you.

The vibrations make his rod jump, shaking so fast your eyes can’t even comprehend its moving at all. God it’s hot. It had become far too normal for Aemond to watch you shake and your eyes roll back into your head with ecstasy but never you with him. It makes you feel powerful.

“F-feels so fucking good—” Aemond struggles to be coherent through the throws of pleasure.

Your hands pick up the pace, tightening your grip around him. His eyes are becoming more and more glassy as the moments pass by. Settling down till your stomach touches your knees, skirt (barely) coved ass poking out to the air. You kiss your way down his chest, leaving lipstick marks as you go until you reach the base of his vibrating cock.

Your mind swarms with ideas of how you can possibly torture him, but you decide against anymore prolonged suffering because of how desperately you need him in your mouth. You lick your way up to his leaking tip, keeping eye contact the entire time.

You run your hands over the sides of his hips as you suck the tip into your mouth. Preparing yourself with a deep breath through your nose, you dive down, deepthroating the rest of him into your throat. The tip of your nose touched the smooth base of his pubic bone. He always filled your holes so perfectly.

The sounds of your throat bobbing over him mixed with muted vibrations and Aemond’s moans make your cunt pulsate. You and Aemond are not new to dirty but something about this type of dirty got you going in a way you have never felt before.

“I’m gonna come—fuck! I’m gonna come down your perfect throat—” That is all you need to hear to pull yourself away from him (as much as you hate to).

Wiping the saliva from the corners of your mouth you press the button on the remote of the cock ring, turning the vibrations off. Aemond whines like a scorned child. A sound you're not familiar with from him, but you could picture yourself getting used to.

“Did you really think that I was going to let you come that fast? I need to make you earn it first, baby.”

He looks up at you, begging. “How? Please just tell me how I’ll do anything, I just need to be inside you. I wanna be your good boy.” His voice cracks like he’s on the brink of tears.

“You have to address me properly.”

“Anything for you ma’am.”

“Now, beg.” You tug the base of his cock into your hands, jerking him off like you were in no rush.

“Please…?” His brows knit together like a kicked puppy.

You halt your movements and grip your boyfriend’s length, not enough to actually hurt him, just enough to make Aemond whine once more. “God do you even want me to fuck you? I said beg.” You say while pulling the almost sheer white top from your body, leaving the skirt and stockings in their place though.

“Please fuck ma’am? I promise I’ll be good for you, I need to be inside of you so bad. I love your cunt so much, I need it around me. I need to feel you come on me, please?”

“Aw, look at that, you are my good boy after all.” With that you are fully on top of him. Hands planted onto his firm chest while you lean forward to tug your skirt up, revealing the lack of underwear beneath them. With his eyes thoroughly distracted by your bare cunt you pull his aching tip inside of your soaking wet entrance.

You had sex not two days before now but somehow the stretch of Aemond inside was still a shock to your system. Maybe it’s because you had never had him like this, crying below you like just being inside you was already the greatest pleasure he could experience.

“Jesus—Christ!”

You take your time adjusting to him, gradually sinking lower towards his abdomen. Your clit grazes the black silicone, alerting you that you’ve reached the bottom. Pushing yourself all the way back up to his tip you slam down as you speak. “Did all that begging make your cock harder, Aem? Do you like begging for me?”

“So much…” The words are almost inaudible through his moans.

“You don’t come until I let you, understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

It only eggs you on more. The sound of wet skin smacking and whimpering fill your ears. No thoughts pass through either of your heads.

The rocking of your hips became more frantic, desperate. Your soft wet walls hugging your boyfriend like a vice. Aemond’s reach up into the pillows, gripping so hard they change from pink to white instantly.

Your mask begins to fall at the pleasure building in your core. Legs shaking at either side of Aemond’s hips. Just like that you pull the blonde up from his horizontal position, his grip falling from the pillows. Lips crashing together in a blur as sweat pools down both your backs. “I’m so fucking close, can I come, please?” His begging is muffled against your mouth.

“Soon, I promise. Rub my clit for me baby?” He obeyed immediately. His pointer and index finger caressing against your pulsing clit. “Fuck yes! so good Aem.” Your hands wander to his hair, like you are the master and he’s your little puppet.

You can’t hold back anymore, the sensation of his lips against yours mixed with Aemond’s precise movements against your bud send you hurdling towards your orgasm. “M’coming, come for me aem, do it for me baby—” Aemond follows fast behind you, crying out your name as he reaches his peak. His cock painting your insides with his cum.

You come back down to earth together, a jumble of words spilling from both of your lips: I love you, thank you, so good, kiss me.

You collapse into a puddle on your boyfriend’s sweat soaked chest. His fingers travel through your hair as you both catch your breath. As he tucks the lock behind your ears he finally speaks coherently. “So, are you gonna tell me how you managed to replicate the exact outfit from the original photo I used to wank off to or…?”

You smile, lifting your head to face him and his pink flushed cheeks. “A great magician never reveals their secrets.”

#aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #aemond fic #modern aemond #modern aemond targaryen #mondern!aemond #hotd smut #cjs.fics #cjs.library

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illbegottenfaith · 3 months ago

Text

lucky pt 3 - theo nott x reader

Theo doesn’t seem to care about you, and you can only lie to yourself that it doesn’t bother you for so long

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

a/n - the final part! so happy to finally write a happy ending :’) wasn’t planning on writing this until my finals were over but um here we are 🙈

tropes/warnings - tw smoking, a lil slapstick comedy ft the other slytherin boys, slight platonic hurt/comfort, angst, soft ‘smut’ (quite mild idt it warrants an 18+ tag)

word count - 3.4k

Two can play a game.

A week had passed since you submitted your Potions project, and after that one night of Theo staying up to help you, things went back to going from bad to worse. What were once paltry tiffs had now disappeared altogether. Theo attended and left lessons as if you didn’t exist. And you supposed you didn’t. At least, not to him.

Ivy worried over you, bless her. She’d noticed how listless and distracted you’d gotten, how much more prone you were to staying holed up in your room, how exhausted you seemed by the most mundane tasks. But this was something even she couldn’t help with. No one could help, you decided mournfully, resting your head against your dorm’s cool window pane. So here you were, staring out the window at 6.30 am on a Monday morning with irritated and aching eyes after a restless night of tossing and turning.

That was when you decided that the only thing there was to be done in a situation like this was to do what you did best - going head-to-head with Theodore Nott. He wasn’t the only one who could play at being emotionally avoidant, and it would be a cold day in hell before you let Theodore Nott best you in anything, including this.

And ignore him you did. You didn’t know or care if he noticed, but soon your already limited interactions became highly unabsorbing and apathetic. You barely acknowledged him in your shared classes. You matched every careless toss of his head with one of your own. As little as Theo cared, you could care even less.

Finals came and went. The morning after your last paper Ivy came barging into your room, demanding you come for an end-of-semester gathering by the Great Lake the next day. No amount of begging or burying your head in your pillow seemed to deter her. She was determined to see you there even if she had to drag you out herself, the recluse that you had become. She finally left after you very unsportingly relented and unsuccessfully tossed a book at her head.

You were already regretting being worn down by the next morning when you were deciding what to wear. Was Theo going to be there? Not that it mattered. You weren't about to pick an outfit around a guy who may or may not be present.

You met Ivy and Katie near the castle entrance and once you started walking down to the lake, you started feeling better about your decision. The weather was surprisingly cooperative and it was perfect picnic weather, if a little windy. It was a little early, only shortly after breakfast, and the refreshments were still being set up. From the few that had already arrived, it seemed to be a rather intimate gathering of mostly familiar faces. If you were especially lucky, Theodore Nott might not make an appearance at all.

You watched a group of Slytherin boys flail and struggle to set up a folding picnic table and put a sheet over it. Enzo Berkshire had flopped onto the table to stop the sheet from flying off while the table groaned underneath his weight. Draco Malfoy was crossly telling him off and trying to get him to stand while Mattheo Riddle stood a little to the side, still frowning over the table's instructions. Draco had now moved onto threats when there was a terrible creaking sound and the table collapsed under Enzo.

"I was just about to say," Matheo started offhandedly, while Enzo moaned pitifully, "I don't think we put the table together right."

"I told you we should have waited for Theo."

Speak of the devil.

“Ladies,” Theo drawled from behind, in his appealingly lazy accent. You turned to see Theodore in a relaxed button-down folded at the elbow, wearing a simple but likely designer pair of black sunglasses, holding a red solo cup. You instinctively glanced at his tanned forearms before snapping your gaze back to his face. Did he notice? It was hard to tell with the sunglasses.

“Hi, Theo,” Ivy said awkwardly when you stubbornly refused to respond. “What's that you got there?”

"Punch. Enzo had me taste test it."

"Oh. Is it good?"

He gave a wry smile. You wanted to roll your eyes. You had no patience to tolerate his irritating posh affectations.

"A little strong for my taste, but it'll do."

"Have you seen Ivan?"

He waved his hand carelessly. “He’s…around.” He turned, peering in the distance. “Right. There he is, by the steps. He’s bringing the drinks.”

“I’ll go help him!” Before you could reel Ivy back in and threaten her to stay with you, she was already halfway down the path, heading straight for her boyfriend. You scowled, your impassive mask shattering. You turned back to see Theo grinning at you with his stupidly mysterious sunglasses and you shot him a dirty look.

“Nice weather we’re having, hm?”

You schooled your features and shrugged noncommittally. The silence stretched unbearably between the two of you. Theo vaguely gestured to the boys with his cup.

“I should help them with the table."

You stayed tight-lipped, refusing to give in to the sense of camaraderie he seemed to be trying to foster with you. After all, you weren't friends. He made sure of that.

As he set his cup down and started looking over the instructions with Mattheo, Ivy returned, drinks and Ivan in tow.

“Punch?”

You raised your eyebrows. Even from a distance, the bowl reeked of booze. Still, you accepted a cup, downing it even as your eyes watered. You pulled a face.

“Merlin, that’s awful. Pour me another.”

You ended up sitting in a cluster of lawn chairs around a picnic blanket with Ivy, Katie and some other girls in your year. You were all giddily tipsy and in very silly moods, gossiping and swapping terrible first date stories.

The drunker and drunker you got, the harder it was to pull your eyes away from Theo. After all, as your inhibitions dissolved, what was there to stop you from glaring a hole into his skull?

Not that he noticed. He was sitting some distance away with his own friends, examining the bottom of his red Solo cup disinterestedly. The other Slytherin boys were absorbed in a spirited game of Exploding Snap. In the unassuming midday sun creeping up on them, he was a refreshing sight, sleek and cool in ways mere mortals could only dream of wishing for.

You scoffed under your breath. What, were his childhood friends too boring for him? Was that it? Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? You had half a mind to strip naked and run into the lake. Maybe that would finally be captivating enough for the oh-so-hard-to-impress Theodore Nott.

How many other girls did he help write essays for late into the night, letting them doze, holding their hand? You shook yourself. He never held your hand. He helped you with your project, brought you breakfast, and that was it. Still, your gaze stayed fixed on the back of your hand. Whatever possessed you to think he held your hand?

The sky had gotten a little cloudy. Theo pulled off his sunglasses, blinking, and cast his eyes around, looking for a place to put them. Finally, he settled on hooking them on the open collar of his shirt and looked rather pleased with himself. It was almost endearing.

Your gut told you to avert your gaze, but you didn't, and the next second his gaze was on you. For the first time in weeks, his eyes met yours, intense and unforgiving. You told yourself it was just his gaunt complexion and bruise-like eyebags, but that didn’t stop your throat from seizing with some inexplicable want. Even when he moved away to rejoin his friends, your skin tingled; your body positively thrummed with it. Any hope of playing at sanity was out the window at this point. No, you just had to accept that the two of you would always be unfinished business.

But that was it - he wasn’t playing at this like you were. This was all a pretence for you; the unaffected stares, the nonchalant nods, the afterthought smiles. This was all just you pretending you weren’t watching his every move. Pretending your attention wouldn’t stay fixed on him in a room full of burning bodies.

But he wasn’t pretending. Not for one second.

All of a sudden, you felt queasy. You were going to be sick.

"Y/N?" Ivy was saying, looking concerned as you unsteadily got to your feet. You could feel the back of your neck prickling with Theo still watching you.

"I'm - I'm fine," you slurred, fanning yourself weakly. "Stay - I'm okay. Just...s'hot. Need to -"

You put your cup down somewhere, stumbling back to the castle as fast as you could, your head spinning as the ground wobbled dangerously under you. You weren't sure how but you somehow made it to your dorm, flung open the bathroom door and reached the toilet just as your stomach started emptying its contents.

You vaguely registered that you had never been this drunk - it felt like you were slipping in and out of consciousness. You were only distantly aware of a familiar pair of hands holding your hair back, rubbing soothing circles on your back as you heaved. It was a cathartic kind of release, a purging of all the toxic anxiety that had been festering inside of you. And just like that, a dam broke. You started crying, sobbing like the world was ending, slumped against your best friend.

“Oh, Y/N…”

“I don’t understand,” you choked out, leaning your forehead against the tiled bathroom wall. “Why doesn’t he like me anymore? Why does he h-hate me?”

Ivy delicately smoothed some of your unruly hair down. “He doesn’t hate you, honey.”

“I’m not a k-kid, Ivy," you hiccuped. "You don’t have to lie to protect my feelings.”

Ivy hugged you close as you sniffled. “I’m going to kill that asshole if Ivan doesn’t beat me to it.”

“No,” you said in a shaky voice, gingerly sitting up. “Promise me you won’t tell Ivan.”

“Y/N - “

“They’re friends! I don’t want to spoil that for him.”

“Trust me, if he knew what Theo was doing, he wouldn’t be feeling all that friendly.”

“Don’t, Ivy,” you pleaded. “This is just…it’s just between us. I’m fine, I swear.”

Ivy looked highly unconvinced. You let out a frustrated sigh.

“Look, at least give me a week to work through this on my own, alright? Then you can sic your boyfriend on Nott.”

“You’ve already had your week. Weeks, in fact.”

“Ivy.”

She pursed her lips. “Fine.”

You felt a lot more sober after throwing up. But you still weren't feeling up to returning to the party, so once you finally managed to shake Ivy off, you wandered the deserted halls of Hogwarts. Just like that one evening lifetimes ago, when Mattheo had insinuated Theo might have a thing for you in the library, you ended up at the Astronomy Tower.

It was peaceful. You could see why Theo liked to come up here to think. You looked up as you heard a scuffling sound from behind one of the pillars, near one of the stone arch windowsills. You walked over to find Theo sitting there, smoking, his long legs barely fitting across the length of the window. He didn't expect to see you either, if the way the cigarette was dangling from his lips was any indication.

“Put that out.”

It was the first thing you had said to him in weeks. You felt almost as surprised as he looked. He started, as if he had forgotten about the cigarette, and took another puff.

“I said,” you started again, half-heartedly raising your voice, “put that out.”

It was weak and unsurprisingly ineffective. If Theo picked up on what it truly was, a plea for normalcy, he didn’t let on.

Your already thin patience snapped. You stalked over, stealing the cigarette from his lax fingers. What you weren't expecting was Theo's fingers closing around your other wrist and firmly pulling you down to press his mouth hard against yours. It was a clumsy mess of teeth and tongues as you ungracefully reached for his arms to steady yourself. His grip lessened when he got the inkling you weren't about to pull away and sock him in the jaw. His hands drifted to your waist as the two of you fumbled for a more proper kiss. You could taste the lingering salt of the cigarette and your senses felt overwhelmed by the distinct feel of Theodore Nott.

“Tesoro -“ he wheezed, twisting away from where your hand had dropped to his bicep, the smouldering cigarette having singed through his shirt.

“Shit, sorry. How do you -?”

Theo plucked the cigarette from your hand and dropped it on the floor, grinding it with the heel of his shoe. He looked up to where you were still hovering above him before pulling you down into his lap by your hips. He grabbed your wrists, placing your hands on his shoulders, and you had to bite back a smile over how adorably particular he was.

“Telling me where to place my hands? And I thought I was the bossy one.”

Theo quirked an eyebrow. "Maybe I'm just sick of waiting." He tipped his head back against the rough stone wall. "And...wanting."

You smoothed a thumb across his collarbone, not missing the way he shivered under your touch. “So what do you want, Nott?”

He tipped you forward, kissing you much more properly this time. You didn't bother pulling much away as you broke apart, whispering with your faces inches away.

“We're actually doing this.”

“Seems so.”

He cupped your face, swiping a thumb under your eyes as his expression flickered.

“Were you…crying?”

You sniffed, dragging his hand off your face, and looking away. "Just - allergies."

Theo blinked, watching your face with a stunned (and slightly dumb) expression as if you hadn't said anything.

“But you never cry.”

You gave a bitter smile. “Congratulations, Nott. You’re officially the first person to ever reduce me to tears.” You desperately hoped he would drop the subject. Just talking about it was enough to make you want to start sobbing again.

"Did someone say something to you? I swear I - it's not because of me, is it?"

Your face crumpling was the only confirmation he needed. “It was like you - I don’t know. Like you hated me, or something.”

Theo captured your hands in his own where they had slid down to his chest. “I….hate you?”

“Or something. Probably the something.”

“But - why? How? If anything, I’d say you hated me.”

Your lips parted as your brow furrowed. “What gave you that idea?”

“What gave me the - I don’t know, all the scowling? The glaring? The snide remarks? The bodily harm?”

You flushed at the memory of the Potions storeroom incident. You could kind of see his point. “That was one time.”

“You owe me new pants, by the way. New pants and a new di-“

You muffled his rant with a kiss and instantly felt him relax beneath you, the tension and annoyance draining from his limbs as he moulded your body to fit more perfectly against his. So eager, so insistent, so different from the past couple of weeks.

“I don’t know," you started once you pulled away. "This felt worse than hate. It felt like…like you couldn’t even be bothered to hate me." You swallowed hard, eyes fixed on where you were fidgeting with the edge of his shirt's collar. "As if that was how little you thought of me.”

"Mia cara," he sighed, almost dejectedly. "Small is the last thing I think of you." He ran a hand through his hair frustratedly, searching for the right words.

“I’m not good at expressing…fondness.”

“No. You don’t say.”

He wet his lips. You could see the smile he was holding back.

“I’m not good at being honest or direct. Everything - my mind, it’s a mess, it’s always about what I want, and how to get what I want, I never - I never meant to make you feel that way."

Maybe it was still all part of some elaborate scam. But sitting there with the rough stone arch digging into your sensitive skin, the distant scent of holding Theo's face in your hands like he was moonlight, you believed him. You didn't even have to try. You just did.

“I’m not used to playing the part of the fool, bella. But when I see you smile, or read, or fiddle with your hair…" He reached out to free the lock of hair you were nervously tugging on, "...I never feel more foolish.”

"I don't think I've ever hated you either, for the record," you said, smoothing out his shirt where you had crumpled it in your fists. "I might have thought I did, but..." you trailed off, looking into his mesmerisingly blue eyes. No, you decided softly, you never could hate the boy.

"I never thought anything could come of us. You were - you are - so brilliant. You're on the road to brilliant things. I was only going to get in the way. And...I don't think I could live with myself if I did." He glanced up and, seeing the crestfallen look on your face, hastily amended his statement.

"That, and you had no patience for pretty boys.”

You scoffed half-heartedly. “I have no patience for you, either.”

Theo grinned, shifting you up his lap, as if you could never be close enough to him. He looked so carefree you couldn’t hold back a small smile of your own. “You keep me so humble.”

“I try.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, tracing burning expanses of skin, staring at each other like you could never get your fill. You’d occasionally press soft kisses down his neck and jaw while his hands would drift up your ribcage or down your thighs. Both of you moved at an unhurried pace, because now you had all the time in the world to have and hold each other.

“It’s getting late,” you murmured, hours later, now tucked into Theo’s side as you lightly traced shapes on his chest. It was pleasantly warm and given the late hour, you could feel your eyelids growing heavier. When he didn't respond, you lifted your head.

Beneath you, Theo breathed deeply and evenly, looking half-asleep. You rolled your eyes and gave him a hard jab in the ribs.

“Hey. Nott.”

Theo grunted, stirring, swatting your hand away. You grinned to yourself - annoying Theo would never lose its appeal. Eyes still closed, his hand haphazardly searched for you to once again pull you against him. You ignored his efforts, deliberately unhelpful.

“You need to pick another name, y’know. This whole last-name business isn’t going to fly as my girlfriend.”

You felt yourself unreasonably perk up over his words. “Your girlfriend? Me?”

He cracked an eye open. “I thought the exclusivity thing was obvious. You're a serial monogamist.”

“Yeah, but you’re not.”

Theo groaned, too tired to keep up with you. He rolled you onto your back and propped himself up with a forearm. You giggled softly, flustered by the heat in his gaze.

“Then I guess you’re lucky I like kissing you the best, amore.”

He dropped his head, and you got the distinct impression you could never tire of the feel of his hands and lips on you.

“What were you saying before?” Theo inquired, while his hands continued their distracting exploration under your clothes.

“It’s late.”

“Right.”

“You have Charms right after breakfast. We should,” your breath hitched, “um, go to bed.”

Theo grumbled something in the crook of your neck, sending the most delicious vibrations down your spine.

"Fine," you sighed, encircling your arms around his neck. "Five more minutes."

He barely made it in time for Charms the next morning.

#theo nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott angst #theodore nott fluff

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puari-vol · 4 months ago

Text

The Perfect Pet

cw: Hypnosis, Pet play

I was on my way home from work when I got the strangest text:

Tiff

Hey slut could you run by the laundromat and pick up my clothes? should be in the third machine from the door.

You

Uh sorry I think you have the wrong number

It was a pretty embarrassing thing to accidentally text a stranger, I couldn't help but think that whoever this had been meant for must be in a pretty quirky relationship. I reminded myself not to be so judgemental, then I got another text

Tiff

Whoops forgot to do the thing lol Slumber party time

“I’m a good girl, I’m a good slut” I muttered to myself, my body suddenly felt very heavy. My arms fell to my sides and my eyes fluttered for just a moment. Then everything felt normal again. I lifted the phone and quickly reread the text conversation

Tiff

Are you there, slut?

You

I’m here! Sorry about that Miss Tiffany, You want your laundry right? I can be there in fifteen minutes

Tiff

good slut no rush lol key is under the doormat

I hurried over to the laundromat anyway, it just felt so good to obey. And if I was a good enough girl, then maybe she’d even use my mouth today. I grabbed the clothes and made my way to Miss Tiffany’s apartment. Once inside I took a moment to reminisce…there had been a slumber party here a few weeks ago, my fourth one I think? It was hard to tell them apart. Then I quickly texted Miss Tiffany back.

You

Delivered! Do you want me to fold them and put them away?

Tiff

Sure lol if you wanna

I got to work, the rest of Miss Tiffany’s clothes were also unfolded and scattered around her room. So I cleaned up all of those too.

You

All done Miss Tiffany!

I waited a few seconds…then a few more…I bit my lip, anticipation building...until suddenly

Tiff

Good girl

I let out a soft moan and my legs felt weak. I basked in it for just a moment. Then I was already texting again

You

Is there anything else I can do for you Miss?

I felt a little disappointed when she replied:

Tiff

Na can’t think of anything, ur good

Feeling disheartened, I got ready to leave. Only for my phone to buzz again, sending my hopes soaring

Tiff

Actually, you gonna be busy for the next hour or so?

You

No Miss!

Tiff

Cool, why don’t you wait for me Just get comfy on the couch and press your button for me slut

You

Yes Miss!

I sat down, and raised my index finger in front of my face. I let my eyes focus on it, then I tapped myself on the-

…

*Tap*

I was lying down on the couch now. When I opened my eyes all I could see was Miss Tiffany’s beautiful pussy. My mouth fell open and she lowered herself onto me. She road my face while I did everything I could to pleasure her, after all if I did good enough she might-

“Good Girl”

My hips thrust into the air while I moaned into her, it was so much better hearing it out loud. She continued to pepper in ‘good girl’s' between her pants and gasps, and I got so fuzzy that all I could think about was the taste of her. Finally she was finished using my mouth. She got off me and slid me onto the floor, where I went to work dutifully massaging her feet. She stuck a toe in my mouth and I sucked it happily.

“That was great, you’re getting better at that slut. Such a good girl”

Her foot in my face stifled my moan, and she giggled at me. I noticed it was my phone she was scrolling through while I worked.

“Looks like you got a few other orders while you were out. But you’ve been a good slut today already, want me to tell them to get someone else?”

I shook my head as much as I could with her foot in my mouth

“Of course you don’t, such a good little slut”

She glanced back down at my phone and read to me

“Well, it looks like Mina wants you to do her homework, Alice wants her dick sucked, and Kelsey just sent a picture of a maid dress and told you to come over. You got a busy day ahead of you slut”

She pulled her foot out of my mouth and let me stand up, she handed my phone back to me with a smile, I went to put it in my pocket, then realized I wasn’t wearing any clothes. I quickly got dressed and made my plan. I could go see Alice first, then I should probably pick up Mina’s homework before going to Kelsey’s cause the maid thing was gonna take all day. It made me so happy knowing I was going to be such a good girl for them all.

I wasn’t sure what else to do, Mina’s homework was done, and I was all out of maid tasks. Kelsey was fast asleep, she had spent most of the day surprise groping me while I worked on cleaning her dorm room, and apparently that had really worn her out because she didn’t look like she was waking anytime soon. I had been hoping for one more ‘Good Girl’ to finish off the day, but it was fine. I was a good slut, I was happy just to be used. I got dressed and headed for home. Another task came in over my phone. But rather than eagerly accept I found myself texting that this slut was tired and done for the day. I received a ‘good girl’ in reply which left me dizzy. But during the walk home, I found the day's activities began to fade from my mind. I had gotten off work, hung out with some friends…and now I was going home. I was standing outside my front door when I got one last text.

Mistress

Hey there cutie :) Did you have fun today?

Another wrong number? In the same day? I texted back to clear up the misunderstanding.

You

Yes Mistress

I stared at my phone, and tried to figure out why I had just typed that, and also why this stranger was named ‘Mistress’ in my phone. But before I could even begin to feel confused there was another text

Mistress

That’s good to hear I’ve been keeping an eye on you, and I think I’ve decided to make you mine Doesn’t that sound lovely pet?

You

Yes Mistress

I stared dumbly at my own thumbs as they typed out and sent the message for a second time. I received one last text, then everything went fuzzy.

The next thing I knew, I was standing somewhere else. I was in front of a completely different door, with my arm raised as though I had just finished knocking. Before I could spend any more time figuring out where I was, the door opened and a dazzlingly beautiful woman was standing inside. She smiled at me, I recognized the smile.

“Perfect timing sweetie”

From behind her another girl walked out of the apartment. She had a vacant expression on her face, and didn’t even glance at me as she walked down the hallway towards the exit. The woman gestured for me to enter

“You’re up next, come on in”

I did and she shut the door behind me

"Honestly I decided I was going to keep you from the moment we first met, breaking you mind was just so much fun"

"Um...thank you"

I couldn't really understand what this lady was talking about, but before I could think about it more I was distracted by the sight of another young woman who was curled up in a pet bed in the corner of the room. She was naked aside from a leather collar around her neck. I stared at her wide eyed while the woman took a seat on the couch. She laughed when she saw me looking

“Jealous?”

I tore my eyes away, my face turning red. I looked at the woman. There was something so familiar about her but I couldn’t quite place it. She laughed at me

“You are just adorable all confused like this, take a seat”

She patted the couch next to her, and I obeyed. Good Girls obeyed…something was swimming up to the surface of my mind Good Girls obeyed…

“Mistress?”

I heard myself ask, it was like I was listening to myself from underwater. She smiled at me

“Why don’t we get you all comfy pet”

She took me by the shoulders and pulled me down, she adjusted me until I was lying on her lap looking up at her. Somehow she seemed even more gorgeous looking down on me like this. There was a voice in my head that was still confused, still wondering why all of this was happening. But that little voice got quieter and quieter as I stared into Mistress's eyes while she gently stroked my hair.

“So do you remember why I called you here?”

I was suddenly broken free from my stupor as I struggled to process the question.

“Uhh, I’m uh…I’m…uhh”

She giggled and placed a quieting finger over my lips

“You don’t need to worry about it pet, you don’t need to worry about anything anymore”

I sighed, that seemed so nice. She gave me another loving smile as I relaxed into her.

"Now pay attention pet, there's one last thing you have to learn about the button that turns off your brain. You know it can be pressed and you can be turned on and off, you know it can be held down and you can have new instructions installed. but did you know you can be reset completely?"

I just stared up at her, not fully comprehending

"It's true! I can just erase everything and start from scratch. and its going to feel so so good, you'll probably just cum the moment I do it. Then everything in your mind will be gone forever, doesn't that sound good pet?"

The words simply fell out of my mouth

"Yes Mistress"

"Good Girl, would you like to say goodbye?"

"...to who Mistress?"

"You silly"

She leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. My eyes rolled back and my mouth fell open as I gasped and moaned, pleasure I had never felt before wracked my body as my mind went blank.

…

“And now that everything in your mind is gone, I’m going to fill it back up. Your time as a slut did so good training you into my perfectly obedient little toy. But you aren’t a Slumber Party Slut anymore, you’re just Mine. You belong to me, and as far as you know, you always have. There is nothing else, there has never been anything else. You live here with me, and you do as you are told, because you are my perfect pet, my very good girl. All you need to know is that I am your everything. and Awake”

Mistress snapped her fingers and gently pushed the pet off her lap

“Pets don’t wear clothes”

Mistress said, and the pet started stripping while Mistress left the room. When the pet was naked she fell to her knees. without Mistress in the room there was nothing for the pet to do, nothing to even think. The moment Mistress returned, She consumed all of the pets attention. Looking for a sign, waiting for a signal. Mistress smiled at Her pet and approached, She was holding a collar in her hand. She put a finger under the pets chin and tilted her head up, then tightened the collar around the pets neck. Without a word She clipped a lead to the collar, turned around and walked away. The pet followed behind on her hands and knees, the pet enjoyed the pressure on her neck as Mistress gently pulled her.

“The leash is gonna stay on for a while, new pets are so very dependent, and I wouldn’t want you to wander too far”

She stopped in front of a computer desk, leaned down and clipped the other end of the leash to a hook set up beneath the desk. With another gentle tug She dragged the pet underneath, then pulled up a chair and sat down. Mistress rested her feet on the pet and went to work on something. The pet curled up and started getting comfortable in her new home…no…this had always been her home.

#hypnosis #hypnok1nk #brainwashing #mind control #hypnostory #last one of this little series #gonna move on to something else now #still hypno though obviously #Mommy if you're reading this I love you

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sansuri · 1 year ago

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𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 | 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐟𝐞

Arranged marriage | gojo x indifferent!wife | MDNI

WARNINGS: you guys have a child together, subtle smut MDNI, fem!reader, mentions of the reader’s body being different after having a child, bad writing bc I switch from third to second use pronouns interchangeably

Synopsis: Gojo and you were the product of an arranged marriage, undoubtedly hating each other, but after your first child together, Gojo begins viewing you in a different light.

Cont: Sea Glass

—————————————————————————————

You were arranged to marry the Gojo Satoru.

The man who belonged to one of the top three clans of Jujutsu, a man who was known for his arrogance and ridiculous amount of privilege. You knew him in your school days, and let’s just say that you two didn’t like each other.

So it was only inevitable that your marriage was definitely rough and you two hated each other, and I mean despised each other. You were required to bear an heir for Gojo, and although reluctant, that’s exactly what you did. Sex with no strings attached, only for the sake of an heir, but after birthing your first child together, Gojo starts viewing his wife differently. He begins to see her soft side and the way she tenderly cares for their child, and Gojo has never felt so jealous in his life. Who knew his usually quiet and distant wife could have such a domestic side, so slowly but surely, he falls hard for you.

And I mean hard.

He begins showering you with gifts and staying home more often, trying to be around you more in the house. He follows you around like a puppy, making sure that if you needed a break from your guys son, that he would be there to switch.

Gojo, however, notices your continued indifference towards him, and he only sits there, wondering how he can convince you to also love him back, not hate him because you were forced into this predicament with him. You loved your son so dearly, yet you never seemed to give any affection to your husband. You had no problem placing a chaste kiss on his jawline whenever there were clan parties, so why couldn’t you do so in the privates of your shared home?

Gojo decides to change this, and begins placing a soft kiss on your cheek each time he gets home, also making sure to place one on the little gremlin too, one that seemed to have taken on his appearance more than his wife, but that’s not a worry because he can always keep having children with you until one pops out looking like you too.

He beds his wife more often, not just during her ovulation period. Sex soon becomes a daily thing than a monthly thing. He beds you because he loves you, and you’re just so soft and tender from having just given birth to his child. He loves the way your body has changed, and he always makes sure that you know that you make him feel so good. He does this not for the sake of having another child, but for him to show his love for you.

He rolls his hips so nicely yet roughly into you, ensuring that you’re feeling just as pleasured. And you, on the other hand, only comply with his desire for you, only thinking that he was just needier than usual, something the Gojo men were all known for. You were merely satisfying his needs, only because you knew your role as his wife. Nothing more.

You begin noticing that after sex though, he stays in the bed with you, instead of leaving like usual, rubbing up and down the curves of your body, worshipping you as you two lay there together, basking in each other’s presence, eventually resulting in you snoozing off in his hold.

He begins asking you questions about your day, sitting with you for breakfast with your son, which he never did before. He starts helping you dress in the mornings, zipping up the cute sundress he bought for you to wear, admiring the way it fits so nicely on you. He always makes sure to feather soft kisses on your shoulder up to your neck, before he places a sweet, yet wet kiss on your jawline, nuzzling his face in your neck to smell the Tiffany & Co perfume he bought you as well.

His goal in mind is to get a kiss from you, but you seem to have no interest in that, which makes him sigh so deeply. You’ve never really kissed Gojo genuinely, and he wants to change that. Sure, you’ve kissed him on your wedding day, but even during sex, when his eyes become lusted and he stares at you so lovingly with desire, leaning his face down to get a kiss from you, you turn your head away, gently pushing his head into the crevice of your shoulder. He’s never been so deprived in his life, but Gojo respects you, so he waits for you to initiate it first. Yeah, you’ve had sex together, but kisses were a whole new level of intimacy for him.

However, just one day after he came home from work tired, you catch him off guard and come over, sweetly grabbing his face and pulling him down to press a soft yet delicate kiss on his jaw. In the privates of your home, not just at a clan party where you needed to keep show. Gojo has felt high before, but this was a new type of high.

It may not have been on his lips just yet, but there’s always next time, right?

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #unrequited love #suridrabbles #food for thought as I resurrect from the dead #sansuriwrites #sansuri writes | indifferent

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slasherscream · 1 year ago

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Crazy Ass Girls Gang ft. what type of yandere are they

warnings: yandere behavior - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Tiffany Valentine / clingy, obsessive, manipulative

You'd better be damn sure you want to be with Tiffany before you ever bring up dating her because there is no escape once you've embarked on the exciting journey of being her romantic partner.

But if we're being honest you never really had a choice. You think you met organically? Became close by fate? No, Tiffany saw you and wanted you and decided to have you.

It was love at first sight on her part.

You'll be friends for a few months as she weaves the inescapable web around you. Best friends, actually. You'll tell her absolutely everything about yourself. Learn everything about her in turn. It's pure bliss to have a friend like Tiffany. Supportive, charming, affectionate.

You can tell she loves you more than anything. Loves you more than anyone else has ever loved you before, and she isn't afraid to show it.

You probably already had a partner when you met Tiffany. She was heartbroken when you first told her. The heartbreak didn't last long. Why cry over spilled milk? She wants to take it slow with you anyways, make sure that this time every aspect of the life you build together will be perfect.

She's come in too heavy before. You can't rush perfection, her mother always told her. For you, the lesson is finally worth learning.

Everything can be a tool. In the right hands. And Tiffany's hands? Why, they're incredibly skilled. She uses your soon-to-be-ex as a diving board for your upcoming relationship with her. Even if you'd been perfectly content with the relationship until you met Tiffany, suddenly everything is awful.

Tiffany points out every mistreatment. Every cancelled date. Every strange tone they used when talking to you. Every shitty, unoriginal gift. Every moment they weren't enthusiastic enough about good news you had to share.

It gets to the point where you can't even look at them half the time. You'll end dates with your partner early just to go spend more time with Tiffany: "What do you think they meant when they said that, Tiff?" / "I think they forgot who they were talking to, sweetheart! They're lucky I wasn't around or I would've cut out their tongue."

Tiffany has you so wrapped around her finger she's not even the one who suggests the break up. She was still going to wait a month or two before she began to truly push.

But when you show up at her doorstep in the middle of the night, holding flowers and her favorite takeout, rambling about how you've been so blind and it's always been Her...

Well, she has to smile as she pulls you in, savoring the last first kiss your lips will ever gift another soul.

She almost forgot how good she is at getting what she wants.

Jordan Li / protective, obsessive, lucid

You're so sweet. It was the first thought Jordan remembers having about you. The beginning of the end. They haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that one fatal moment.

Jordan has plenty of other things to think about. Things that should outclass you in importance easily. Their ranking, Brink's careful mentoring, their grades. They tell themselves that it all still matters more than you but they know they're lying to themselves.

It scares them a little, how much they actually think about you. Not a minute can go by without their thoughts drifting to you.

Did you eat today? / Your next class is in ten minutes, let me walk you, I've got the time. / You were running out of your favorite perfume. Got you a new bottle. / You look upset. Did someone fucking say something to you?

They can't help the way they hover around you during every spare moment they can find.

Jordan knows your schedule by heart to maximize the amount of time you can spend together. It's a balancing act they have to play with their brain for the simplest of tasks: you can spend the rest of the day with Y/N but you have to finish grading these essays first.

They can't function properly when they go too long without you. They swing on their sparring partners too hard. Stare at the clock during lectures instead of listening. They rip textbooks and snap pens by holding them too tight.

Sometimes they have to give up and call you. If they can't go and see you for whatever reason the sound of your voice makes it better. Hearing you talk, the sound of you breathing, laughing. It helps. Calms the buzz beneath Jordan's skin. They dial your contact, glaring into space as they wait for you to pick up. As soon as you do their body relaxes.

They recognize that their behavior isn't normal. Always needing to know where you are, who you're with. Feeling sick when they don't know.

You're like a drug for Jordan. They know you're an addiction, the way you've crawled under their skin. No high on earth compares, and Jordan has fucking compared them all. They pull you into their lap, as close as they can get you and it's never enough. Nothing is ever enough.

"Please don't fucking go anywhere, yeah?" Jordan will mumble into the skin of your neck. Their grip on you is too tight, face twisted at the desperation they feel. It's not pillow talk. They're begging. Genuinely. They'd do anything to keep you this close, always.

"Of course not, Jordie." You coo back. They close their eyes and pretend the words are enough. Nothing ever is.

Nancy Downs / delusional, possessive, obsessive

As soon as Nancy wants you there's no other option for you besides her. You can either choose to go along with it or you can fight it.

Fighting against her is like fighting against the tide, though. You can tread water for awhile. Keep your head afloat, sure. But eventually you'll get tired. Nature wins. Besides, fighting against Nancy becomes unpleasant fast. Being hers is so much nicer. She's gentler that way, kinder.

You're allowed to have friends, she doesn't isolate you completely.

It's just your old friends sucked. They didn't appreciate you. Didn't look out for you. Selfish users just like everyone else. Moths are always drawn to the light, and she'll kill every moth that strays a little too close to you, before it ever gets a chance to singe itself on your warmth. It's a mercy, really. Living a life in the darkness and having one brief moment in the sun is miserable. Nancy should know. It almost drives her crazy when you're not around. If you ever left she'd want to be put out of her misery too.

Her coven, though? They're perfect. Her coven is a family. And you were the last missing piece of it.

Anything about your old life, the life before her, can be viewed as a threat at a moment's notice. Family. Friends. Memories you speak of a little too fondly. Even a hobby could do it. She wants your focus to be her. It's only fair, her only focus is you.

Even when she's not around. Even when you're completely alone you swear you can feel her eyes on you. Her magic drifting against your skin as if she was sitting right beside you.

Nancy's intensity can be scary but she makes anyone else's love seem dull in comparison.

Who else could love you like she does? Who else would die for you? Nancy wouldn't even have to think about it first. All she asks in return is for you to do the same. Live for her. Dedicate every breathe in your lungs to her.

It's not so hard, she'll lead by example.

Jennifer Check / manipulative, possessive, clingy

She couldn't give a shit about anyone else but you. Somehow you managed to sneak your way into her heart and she can't let go of you. Won't let go of you. You're the only thing that's keeping that small, soft, human part of her alive. You dragged that bit of her back from the grave she put it in, actually. So it wouldn't be fair for you to try and leave, after you made her weak again. Human again.

Her world revolves around you. Her priorities are her next meal and you. Of course she gets pissed off if you don't reciprocate her energy. Look at her, how could you ever put anything above her?

Jennifer wants you to be everything to each other, though she won't say it out loud. It shows in her actions.

You belong to her. Every version of yourself that exists in the world should belong to her. The version of you that you are when you're someone's best friend. When you're someone's partner. It's all hers. She won't let anyone else take root in your life in a role that she can fill. She'll do a better job anyways.

The enormity of her ego and the way she clings might seem at odds. She thinks she's a God walking amongst fucking cattle. But she sticks to you like a second skin. A hand always at your waist. Her lips always chasing yours, whining when you don't give in fast enough, when you don't melt like she does. Her grip iron clad when you hold hands. If you pull away too soon from a hug, from a kiss, she bites, she holds on with claws.

She coos at the marks she leaves on your skin and kisses all the scratches and bruises she leaves better. / "I'm sorry baby, you know I hate letting you go."

Carrie White / idolizer, protective, selfless

Not in her wildest dreams did Carrie think anyone could be as kind as you. People are cruel. Their first instinct is to cause hurt before they'll ever reach out a hand to help, to shield, to love.

But you're not like that at all. You're something ripped straight from a fairy-tale. The rare ones that her Mother let her read, that weren't hiding devil worship between their poetic words.

You're so patient with her. So gentle. You treat her like glass. You hold her close, and kiss her soft, and cup her face in your hands that are always so warm.

You say you love her in a breathless way, every time. Like even expressing how much you care makes you dizzy. As if she overwhelms you. She feels dizzy herself as she hangs on your every honeyed word. Clings to you every time you reach out your hands to hold her.

Carrie doesn't know if she believes in God nowadays, but if she did you'd be an angel sent straight from heaven. A gift, maybe, to make up for all the years of torment she endured from everyone she'd ever known.

She'd think you were some kind of God yourself, if you had any sort of abilities like her. But you don't. You walk around doing what's right, being good down to the marrow of your very bones just because it's who you are. You greet the world with your fists raised and you're only human, and it scares Carrie so much.

You're the last decent person alive and you'll throw yourself onto any pyre you see if it means doing what's right. Carrie loves that about you. It terrifies her.

So Carrie throws herself into the ring with you. Your sweet, gentle Carrie who you're always trying to protect. But Carrie doesn't need your protection. She's not the helpless little girl she used to be. She won't let anything hurt either of you, from now on. For the rest of your lives you'll be safe, happy. Together. Carrie would burn the world to ash if it meant not a scratch would befall you.

"You're an angel, Y/N. The most wonderful angel God ever made."

Ginger Fitzgerald / possessive, impulsive, protective,

Sometimes Ginger wishes everyone else in the world would disappear, besides the two of you. They're a hindrance.

She feels insane when she watches you. She feels her claws come out and makes herself bleed as she fights against the instinct to rip out every tongue that speaks to you, and every pair of eyes that's ever looked into yours.

She shivers when you claim her. The only time she enjoys being around other people now is when you're introducing her: "This is Ginger, my girlfriend." "This is Ginger, my partner." "This is Ginger, my best friend." "This is Ginger, my everything."

She loves being yours. Relishes in the way you say the word mine. She wants to lick the words from your mouth, the weight of your total ownership over her sweet and poisonous.

She wonders if you get the same pleasure from belonging to her. She wants you to. She wants to carve her name into your skin with her claws and have you moan at the first sharp sting of the letter G.

It's primal, the way she wants you. Beyond anything humans have words for. She leaves her scent on your skin and wants to growl when you wash it away with artificial soaps and perfumes. She sucks bruises into every inch of you that anyone else could see.

She wants you to do the same. Wants to roll onto her back and expose her neck, and have you bite so hard you draw blood.

Ginger's wanting comes with teeth. What she is demands she sinks her teeth into things, that she draws blood. Even when she loves you. Because she loves you, maybe. She needs to leave a mark on you. She needs to always be there. She needs the same from you.

Needs you to leave scars on her that she can touch when you're not around. Proof that you were there. Proof that you're coming back. You don't carve your name into things and then abandon them. When you own things you keep them.

When you're gone the world goes dim and cold. She couldn't survive in a world without you. She wouldn't even attempt it. What would be the fucking point?

"We're a pair. We belong to each other. Always, yeah?"

#crazy ass girls gang #tiffany valentine x reader #jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #tiffany valentine imagine #jennifer check x reader #jennifer check imagine #ginger fitzgerald x reader #carrie white x reader #nancy downs x reader #thank you ty and oak for helping me place these guys i was in the trenches #im still in the trenches right now because im down BAD i want them all in a way that #MUST be studied by scientists this shit ain't normal #sorry if this makes me look gay it's because i am #got a little lost in the sauce with ginger HELLO???

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grandline-fics · 6 months ago

Note

If you’re down for it, could you do Ace and the prompt for “taking a hit for them”? Idk if you need other specifics but preferably with a afab!reader 👀

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Taking the hit for them

WARNINGS: angst, description of injury, comfort

CHARACTERS: Ace

WORDS: 1,303

A/N: Thank you for the request! I wasn't expecting for this to be as long as it was but I hope you're happy with the result for this one.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

————————

“You need to stop being so overconfident you know that?” You lectured, frowning heavily down at Ace as he lay on the railing of the Moby Dick for his afternoon nap. At the sound of your voice he tilted the rim of his hat up to blink at you sleepily and confusion. Already he’d forgotten and you rolled your eyes, staring down at him with arms folded tightly and and scowl deepening. If there was a competition for the most laid back person, you would have no doubt Ace would have a gold medal. You were almost jealous. Strictly speaking you admired his personality a majority of the time, but then moments like this came up and that admiration swiftly turned into worry and a lecture. You just needed him to think a little before charging headfirst into things. “That fight back there? They had you surrounded when I arrived. You could have been hurt!”

Ace lolled his head to the side, lazily looking in the direction of the town you’d both just returned from. It took a moment for his mind to drift back to the ‘incident’ that you were getting so stressed over. A long yawn rose through his chest and idly he scratched his chest. Vaguely he recalled a few nobodies trying to start something with him in the hopes of getting their own bounties increased. Honestly that was the only thing that slightly resembled a fight that he could remember being apart of. But still it was hardly anything and he threw you a grin, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. “Hurt by them? If I did, I’d happily give them my bounty myself. I’m fine, you’re fine. What’s got you so tight?”

“You, Ace!” You shouted firmly, your frustration drawing the attention of others on board, their own relaxation being disturbed by the beginning of the lover’s tiff. “Is it really so hard to just take a couple seconds and assess the situation for once? Just because someone looks weak doesn’t mean that’s the case. I mean look at your brother!” At that remark Ace’s need for a nap dissipated and he sat up to glower at you. Just because you were annoyed at him for some needless reason didn't mean you had to drag Luffy into it.

“What about him?” Ace asked evenly, his voice colder than normal. “He’s proved his strength time and time again on these seas.”

“Exactly! He’s taken down big names and part of that is because his appearance makes those he fights underestimate him.” You let out a sigh and rubbed your neck, feeling a headache coming on. “I just don’t want to see you hurt over something that could have been avoided.”

“Sweetheart I’m literally made of fire. No one can hurt me even if they tried.” Ace smirked at you, now that he knew you weren’t insulting his little brother his demeanour had returned and he flopped back down onto the deck. “I love that you worry but please don’t.” Seeing the discussion was hopeless you shook your head and left muttering under your breath.

It was a week later before it all came to a head. Word came that Whitebeard’s territory was under threat from attack by pirates on the island. Obviously Ace insisted he could handle the threat on his own and you lightly smacked the back of his head. You rolled your eyes and remained quiet, breathing a silent sigh of relief when Pops insisted that a small group go to handle it instead of just allowing Ace to go. Ace accepted the order without hesitation. While you were glad Ace saw sense in that respect you just wished he would listen to you as readily. It was an even greater relief that Marco was also joining the group, at least he would be level-headed.

Your group landed on the island and almost immediately were drawn into a fight. For the most part it was barely worth a warmup, the pirates were in over their heads against you and the other Whitebeards, a clear show in difference in your power against theirs. However in the middle of the fight you noticed two of your enemies disappear from the thick of the fight. If they were drawing back they had a reason for it. Something didn’t feel right, and the fact that the others you were fighting didn’t seem bothered by their allies disappearance only reenforced your suspicions. Then you heard the sound of their fast approach and saw them draw their guns, aiming them at Ace.

They were already aware that he was a Devil Fruit user from reputation and the beginning of the fight but they stared at your boyfriend with glee and sickening satisfaction. You felt your blood run cold at the realisation that they were fully confident their weapon would harm him so you ran. Quickly you made it to Ace in time just as the sound of the trigger being pulled rang out. Ace turned sharply as you hit the ground, watching as blood slowly darkened and spread against the fabric of your shirt. Immediately the group launched into a vicious assault, no longer going easy on their attackers while Ace gathered you into his arms and yelled for Marco. When Ace tried to reach for your stomach to put pressure on your wound at the same time your blearily made out the soft blue glow of Marco’s flame approaching you found the strength to grab Ace’s hand to stop him from coming into contact with your injury. “N-n-no….sea…seastone!”

You slipped in and out of consciousness, blurred shapes and muffled voices that you could partially make out as Ace and the others working together to get you stabilised enough to get you back to the ship. You finally tumbled into darkness when you were set on the operating bed. Ace paced outside the infirmary with anxious fury. He wanted to burn the bastards that hurt you but they were already dealt with, he wanted someone to hurt him since this was his fault. Not only had he let the one responsible flee but he’d also heard them pull a gun on their return and made no move to avoid them. You, however had known, you’d considered the possibility that their actions weren’t just bravado or a bluff. Now you were hurt and it could have been avoided had he just done what you’d always asked him to do; consider everything, stop underestimating the enemy.

“Sweetheart, you can tell me ‘I told you so’ everyday.” Ace whispered from your bedside when you were out of surgery, his hand holding yours tightly. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting with you, but through it all he kept talking. “I swear it anything you want, you got it. Hell, I’ll even give you my hat. You just need to get better.”

“Ace?” Your groggy voice broke him from his constant rambling and looked to you with relief and adoration. You smiled tiredly when his free hand stroked your face, always finding comfort in his touch. You could see the guilt in his eyes and tension in his shoulders. You didn’t need to tell him you told him so, he’d be remembering this day for the rest of his life. “I don’t want your hat. I want my own and a kiss. I want a kiss.”

Ace couldn’t help but let out a small huff of laughter and lightly pepper your face with gentle, loving kisses until he found your lips and kissed you properly, deeply. What had happened had shaken him completely but for you he’d be strong, he’d be better than he had been and more certainly of all, he’d take things more seriously. For you. Always for you.

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crashandswirl · 5 months ago

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...Can we tell apart my eight muses with the same FC?

#[rain & her clones aren't muses here but idc]#{i'm basically holding my future emmy right now} about terri #{it's like my mother always used to say...} about tiff #{tú quieres creer que estoy loca} about salgado #{umbrella had to have me} about j.d.#{you already know my name huh?} about bruce #{hey get a load of this} about alf #{yeah i get that a lot} about luther #{if you want an adrenaline rush...} about letty #{this is serious} about vance #{wanna see a magic trick?} about joey #{so i guess i'll tell you my story} about m-13 #{i got tired of waiting so i started a little fight} about inéz #{chucky did it} about nica #{sometimes i want the first bite y'know?} about cass #{i was trained in battle by a great warrior} about katarin #{if you don't try to save one life you'll never save any} about angie #{guess you could say i'm one of those people who's just better off alone} about ana #{there's nothing to it} about jill

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tortillamastersblog · 29 days ago

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Back To You - Part 11 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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The rest of the walk back to the apartment was uneventful. Sam and I stayed a couple of paces behind everyone and even though we didn’t speak I kept stealing glances at her, feeling my heart flutter every time I caught her snuggling deeper into my hoodie in search of comfort.

Now, we’re back at the apartment. Tara and Chad are in Tara’s room, talking, according to Quinn, while the rest of us is gathered in the living room.

Well, almost everyone. Sam stayed downstairs when we got here, saying she needed a moment to compose herself.

I completely understand where she’s coming from, tonight’s been a lot and I get that she needs some space, but I still have an innate need to comfort her.

I know we’re not on the best of terms especially after our little tiff on the way to the party, but I still care deeply about her and I hate seeing her upset.

Which reminds me. . . I should probably have a little chat with Tara.

I set down the bottle I just took from the fridge after taking a big sip of water, and slowly make my way to Tara’s room.

Much to my surprise, Quinn is already there and what she’s saying makes my eyebrows rise up.

She’s saying something about cock blocking Tara and Chad, something they both vehemently deny and I slow down so as to not get into the middle of it.

Eventually they drop it though, and Quinn leaves the room, smirking at me when she passes me in the hallway before Chad exits the room as well after telling Tara not to kill Sam.

He sends me a small smile as he brushes past me and I pat his shoulder with a sympathetic look before going to the door and leaning against the doorframe.

Tara still hasn’t noticed me and when she lets herself fall back on the bed with a dopey smile I can’t help but smile too.

Oh, she and Chad have it bad for each other. I can’t wait to ask how and when that happened.

For now, there are more important things to talk about though.

I push myself back off the doorframe. “Knock, knock,” I say quietly.

Tara’s head whips around and she immediately sits up when she sees me, her dopey grin turning into a somber smile. “Y/N, hey. . .”

“Can I come in?” I ask and when Tara nods and pats the spot beside her I cross the room and take a seat next to her. “You okay?”

She shifts closer and rests her head on my shoulder with a sigh. “No, not really. I hate fighting with Sam, but she’s so overprotective, it’s suffocating. . . I’m sorry I didn’t greet you properly How was your drive? I thought you and Liam had plans for tonight?”

“We did, but he was called into work. The drive was fine, long, but fine and you don’t have to apologize, I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” I nudge her softly and press a kiss to the top of her head. “As for Sam,” I continue. “I get it. It’s a lot and she might have overreacted tonight, but she’s just worried about you. I’m worried about you, I mean—Date Rape Frankie? Really?”

When Anika told Sam and me the name of the guy Tara’d left with I thought I’d heard wrong.

Tara winces and fidgets with her fingers.

“I know, I know. Not my best move, but I just. . . I want to make my own choices and, yes, Sam is worried, but she keeps treating me like a child. You don’t.“

I sigh and let her play with the bracelet on my wrist, so she stops fidgeting with her fingers. “No, I don’t. But she lives with you and takes care of you, and she was gone for five years, so she’s probably trying to make up for everything she missed.”

Tara doesn’t say anything, but her fingers still as she thinks about what I just said.

“I know it’s a lot, too much even some times, but you have to understand where she’s coming from. Sam loves you so much, Sprout.”

“I know. I love her, too, but. . .” Tara trails off and sighs.

I chuckle softly and press another kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah. . .”

We stay like that until Tara lifts her head off my shoulder a couple of moments later to study me.

When she does say anything, I raise an eyebrow and ask, “What?”

“You look. . . tired,” she says which makes me shrug.

“I mean, yeah. It’s late and the drive was pretty long,” I say, not knowing where she’s going with this, but Tara just shakes her head and deflates a little, her eyes softening.

“No, I don’t mean like that.” I frown, which prompts her to continue. “You and Sam. . . You barely speak these days and I can tell you’re both miserable because of it. I mean, I get that you have your own life and it was hard to stay in touch when you were in Boston and we were in Woodsboro, but we’re here now, so why don’t you try to fix things between the two of you.

I sigh. “It’s not that simple, Sprout. We’ve all changed and even though I love Sam with all my heart, I realized I can’t be around her. She doesn’t think of me as anything other than a friend a-and it hurts. It hurts so much, I just can’t be a friend .”

“But she loves you, too,” Tara tries to reason which makes my heart ache because oh how nice would it be if that was true. “You guys just have to talk. I mean, she watches all your games on TV and you’re the first one she wants to call when something’s wrong or when something good happens.“

I blink back tears and avert my eyes. “That doesn’t prove anything, Tara. She knows how I feel about her and she’s never done anything about it. Besides, why would she be fooling around with Danny if she loved me?”

Tara grabs my wrist to get me to look at her again. “She knows?! I mean, it’s pretty obvious, but. . . How? And since when? And who the fuck is Danny?”

I smile sadly at her rambling and pat the top of her hand. “Danny, you know—cute boy? No one knows though, so keep that to yourself. As for since when she’s known, Richie called me out on it at Amber’s. We never talked about it, but yeah, she knows. . .”

The pity that fills Tara’s eyes is almost too much for me to bear, and when she sigh and says, “I’m so sorry. . .” I have to blink back a new wave of tears.

“Well, it is what it is, Sprout, but I need you to know that no matter what happens between Sam and me, I’ll always be there for you. You can always call me and should you ever need a break from everything you can come visit me in Boston.“

Tara hugs me tightly and whispers, “Thank you.”

I hold her closer and press another kiss to the top of her head before pulling back and suggesting we join the others in the living room.

I still want to ask about her and Chad, but there will be time for that later.

She agrees and together we make our way to the living room where the others are in the middle of turning on the TV and finding something to watch.

It is pretty late, but it seems as though no one is ready to call it a night yet.

I don’t pay much attention to what they’re watching as I go to the kitchen to retrieve my water bottle, but then a collective gasp makes me turn back and when my eyes land on the TV, I freeze.

A news host is talking about a recent Ghostface killing, and even though it could all just be a big coincidence, I have this eerie feeling that it’s not and that we’re in for another ride with the masked killer.

He’s back. Ghostface is back.

It’s just like Sidney said, they always come back.

Fuck.

Various scenarios of what might happen go through my head and I shudder when I think of anyone getting hurt, or worse, killed again.

Tara. . . Sam. . . The twins. No, please, no. Not again.

“Someone get Sam,” Mindy says. It snaps me out of my thoughts and before anyone can get up, I head to the front door.

Outside in the hallway, I peer over the banister, expecting her to be sitting on the stairs at the bottom of the stairwell where we left her. She’s not though, and when I see her standing there instead, holding onto the lapels of Danny’s jacket, I have to swallow the bitterness that rises in my throat.

So much for not being a thing. . .

I push my hurt away and focus on what’s important instead.

“Sam!” I shout, doing my best not to let my voice waver. “Get up here right now. There’s something you have to see.”

At the sound of my voice, both Sam and Danny immediately look up, and I try not to read too much into the way Sam instantly lets go of Danny and takes a step back.

They share a quick look before making their way up the stairs, and I turn to go back into the apartment without waiting for them.

I leave the door open and stand next to Chad, watching the news report until Sam comes storming in with Danny right behind her.

“What’s going on?” she asks and Chad just points at the TV.

Quinn smiles briefly at the sight of Danny and shoots Sam a knowing look, saying, “Cute Boy. . . nice,” but both Sam and Danny, despite his confusion at the nickname, don’t react.

They stare at the TV in a mix of surprise and confusion and when Mindy points out that one of the two victims was in their Film Studies Class, Sam’s face hardens and she turn to Tara, saying, “Pack a bag, we leave in ten.”

I can’t say I’m surprised because I knew she’d want to leave, but we already found out once that running away doesn’t work.

Sam heads into the kitchen to do god knows what and Tara looks at me pleadingly for a moment, hoping I’ll say something to change Sam’s mind but I just shake my head and sigh.

I’m scared, too, and once again a million scenarios of what could happen go through my head, but it’s not my place to interfere and even if I did, I doubt Sam would listen to me.

She’s got one thing on her mind right now, and that is protecting Tara, and even I won’t be able to change her mind, especially now after nine months of almost complete radio silence between the two of us.

Tara’s face falls, seeing that I’m not going to come to her rescue, and she jumps up to follow her sister into the kitchen, protesting. “Sam, wait! Sam!”

Danny frowns and goes to follow them, confused why Sam would just straight up pack a bag and leave at the first sign of trouble, but Chad steps in his way and places his hands on his shoulders.

“Thank you very much, suspicious new guy, but I think we’ve got it from here,” he says, ushering a still confused Danny out of the door before closing it land locking it.

I’ve got to say, I understand why Chad doesn’t trust him, but from what little I’ve seen of Danny so far, he seems like a decent guy and I doubt he has anything to do with this whole Ghostface situation.

“Sam, hold on!”

I turn back at the sound of Tara’s voice and try to hide my surprise at the sight of Sam coming back out of the kitchen with a knife in hand, Tara hot on her heels.

So that’s why she went into the kitchen. If you ask me, she’s overreacting just a little bit. Yes, Ghostface is back, but he’s not here right now, so I really don’t see the need for the knife.

“No, come on, we’re leaving,” Sam says, heading to her room, presumably to pack a bag, but before she gets there, Tara grabs her by the elbow and spins her around.

“No, wait! Let’s talk about this for a second ‘cause this might not have anything to do with us.”

True, but I doubt it. Still, I don’t get in the middle of it. I even take a step back to give them some room and when I glance at the others I see they’re also conflicted about what to believe and whose side to be on.

Well, they all are except Ethan. He just looks scared and his eyes keep darting between the two sisters and the TV.

When Sam points out that it can’t be a coincidence, Chad and Mindy back her up, mumbling, “Yeah, it is a little bit close to home,” I see Tara deflate.

She looks at me helplessly and I just shrug timidly, agreeing with the rest of them which prompts her to turn to Quinn for help. “Quinn, your dad’s a cop, right? Can you call him and find out what’s going on?” She turns back to glare at Sam, adding, “Before you make the unilateral decision to abandon my college education and flee the fucking state!”

Sam flinches slightly, but looks at Quinn for answers, her eyes filled with desperation and an underlying fear that makes me feel for her.

I’m scared, too.

The redhead cringes slightly and nods. She obviously doesn’t like the fact that she’s been roped into the fight, but she takes out her phone nonetheless. “I’m calling him now.”

Tara lets out an exasperated sigh. “Thank you.”

Quinn sends her a tight lipped smile and lifts her phone to her ear after dialing her dad’s number, only for the rest of us to flinch a second later when Sam’s phone starts ringing on the kitchen table.

Oh no.

Her eyes find mine and I do my best not to let my own fear show as I tilt my head, silently telling her to answer it.

Whatever happens, we’re in this together. The past nine months be damned.

She visibly shudders but takes her phone after setting down the knife. She doesn’t answer it though. She just stares at the display before declining the call and turning back around.

Huh. What was that?

The atmosphere is charged and a tense silence has settled over the living room and the only one who dares to break it a second later is an oblivious Ethan.

“Why did everyone just freak out when her phone rang?” he asks which makes Anika roll her eyes and say, “You’ve got to keep up my dude.”

She’s right. How can he not know Ghostface calls his victims every time before he attacks. By now, that’s like common knowledge because Stab is a franchise everyone knows, but then again, he doesn’t strike me as someone who watches horror movies, so his question seems fair.

“Sam? My dad wants to talk to you,” Quinn says, getting off the couch and holding out her phone.

Right. Her dad.

Sam takes the phone and we all watch with baited breath as she raises it to her ear, saying, “Mr. Bailey, hi,” but then a thought strikes me and I’m quick to pull out my own phone and excuse myself for a moment.

I dial Liam’s number in the hallway outside of the apartment, waiting with a racing heart until he finally picks up.

It’s not been confirmed that Ghostface is back, but I still have to warn him. I can’t ask him to leave again because of his new job, but I can give him a heads up.

“Hey, Y/N. You good? I’m sorry I know it’s late and you probably thought I’d be home by now, but my boss—“

“No, no, it’s not that.” I cut him off, but before I can say anything else he beats me to it.

“Okay, good. You know speaking of my boss, he’s a big fan of yours and I may or may not have slipped him your resume and he’d love you to work for him should you retire any time soon.l

I shake my head even though Liam can’t see me and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Liam—“

“Also I talked to Paige on my way to dinner and she’s, like, so jealous the two of us are spending a couple of days together, even though you visited her in Portland a couple of weeks ago and—“

“Liam!”

Liam shuts up instantly and for a second there’s silence. When he speaks up again the concern in his voice makes it clear that he knows something is wrong. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

I exhale shakily and tighten my grip on the phone. “He’s back, Lee. . . Ghostface is back.”

“What? But—“

“Listen to me,” I say sternly before he can go on. “I know I can’t ask you to leave again, but I need you to keep your distance from me until this whole thing blows over. Stay vigilant, stay in crowded places and maybe even stay with a friend for a couple of days. He might not be after you, but you’re my friend and when he finds out he might want to hurt you.”

Liam huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “If you think I’m going to go into hiding and let you face this motherfucker alone again you’re out of your mind, Y/N! Let me—“

“No! You’re staying out of this.”

“You can’t just decide that for me!” He fires back and I clench my jaw.

“Liam, the less people that are involved, the better,” I say. “I told you before and I’ll tell you again, if something happened to you because of me, I’d never be able to forgive myself. You’re not going into hiding, you’re keeping yourself safe. . . I’ve faced Ghostface before, so I know what I’m getting into, and we’re prepared this time. Quinn’s dad is a cop.”

“Y/N. . .”

“Lee,” I whisper, feeling a lump growing in my throat. “It’s going to be okay. We’re all going to be okay as long as you stay out of it, okay? Please promise me you’ll do what I said.“

I hear Liam sigh and it’s clear he doesn’t want to agree, but he does eventually. “Fine. Fine. I’ll stay out of it.”

“Thank you.” I swallow thickly. “I’ve got to get going now, but before I do. . . Please, don’t tell Paige about this. She’ll only worry and she’ll want to come here to help.”

“I know,” Liam says. “I won’t tell her.”

“Thank you.” I hang up after telling him to stay safe, and turn around just in time to see Sam and Tara coming out of the apartment.

Both of them have changed out of their clothes from the party. Tara’s wearing a striped shirt, jeans, and a pink corduroy jacket and Sam is wearing a simple white long-sleeved shirt and my hoodie.

Her necklace glints in the low light and distracts me for a moment.

“Hey, where are you guys going?” I ask when I snap out of it.

Sam grimaces. “Detective Bailey asked me to come down to the station because they found my driver’s license at the crime scene and Tara’s coming with me.”

“What? How’d that get there?” I ask, following them down the stairs without hesitation.

Wherever they go, I go, even though I’m only wearing a shirt and I know it’s going to be a little chilly outside.

Sam throws her hands up, keeping her eyes trained on the stairs so as to not stumble while Tara holds onto my arm. “I have no idea, but I reported that it was stolen two nights ago.”

Why would someone steal and then plant her license at a crime scene? It’s almost like they’re trying to frame her, but why?

I feel like I’m missing something.

We step outside and I wrinkle my nose at the smell of wet dirt and urine. It rained while we were inside, I realize, and the air is much cooler than I thought it would be, but there’s no turning back now, so I just lean into Tara when she huddles closer for warmth after noticing the goosebumps on my arms.

I’m just glad it’s not raining anymore.

Sam is walking two paces ahead of us, seemingly lost in thought and I’m about to speak up and ask her to tell us what’s on her mind when her phone suddenly rings.

She stops walking and Tara and I catch up to her, watching her pull her phone out of her pocket.

I freeze when I see the caller ID and the three of us share a horrified look.

Richie Kirsch

“What the fuck?” Tara whispers.

“I never deleted his contact,” Sam admits.

“Don’t pick that up, just let it ring,” I warn, knowing that it can’t be anyone but Ghostface, but after looking around with a clenched jaw, Sam picks it up anyway.

Tara and I share an incredulous look, but we stay quiet when Sam asks, “Who is this?”

I can’t hear what the person on the other end of the line is saying, but even without the speaker I can make out Ghostface’s distorted voice.

Sam tenses and she stares straight ahead, her grip on her phone so harsh her knuckles are turning white. “I want you to think long and hard about whether you really want to do this because the last two people that fucked with us ended up dead,” she spits and my chest fills with pride at how confident she sounds.

Ghostface says something I can’t quite make out, but I don’t focus on him because as he speaks, a hooded figure rounds the corner in front of us.

They’re on the phone as well with their head down so we can’t make out their face and I instantly shake off Tara and step in front of her and Sam.

Not today. . .

My ears start ringing and I ball my shaking hands into fists, ready to pounce, but then the stranger looks up with furrowed eyebrows. It’s a man in his late thirties, and he looks weirded out by the fact that we’re just starring at him, but he doesn’t comment on it and simply walks by while still talking on the phone.

I feel a hand on my lower back and deflate a little.

That wasn’t him. . .

I turn, thinking it’s Tara who’s touching me, only to freeze when I realize it’s Sam.

She’s not looking at me, and I’m not even sure she knows what she’s doing, but when I shift out of reach her jaw twitches.

“So, what? You’re protecting us now?” she asks Ghostface which makes me frown.

What are they talking about?

Tara steps closer and tries to listen to what they’re saying with a frown of her own pulling at her lips all while resting a hand on my forearm to make sure I don’t go anywhere.

A police car races past us with blaring sirens and blinking lights, but I keep my focus on Sam whose face tightens more and more with every word Ghostface spews.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet, asshole,” she says with a tilt of her head which only fuels my earlier confusion.

Yeah, I’m definitely missing something here.

Tara looks at me, her brown eyes filled with worry and I go to comfort her by wrapping an arm around her shoulder, but then movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention right as Sam says, “You better watch yours!”

I spin around and pull Tara behind me just in time to kick Ghostface in the stomach before he can get his hands on either of us.

He stumbles back and doubles over, and I use his momentary distraction to push Sam and Tara in front of me.

“Shit! Run!” I shout and they do as I say, running ahead with me hot on their heels.

I keep checking over my shoulder where Ghostface is, and my stomach sinks when I see him picking himself up faster than anticipated.

Shit. He’s tough. And he’s not small either.

“Help! Please!” Tara shouts, but no one in their car hears her and there are no pedestrians around, so Sam does what I would have done too if I was in front and drags Tara around the corner and into a bodega.

I follow them inside and turn so I can keep my eyes on the door while they frantically plead with the man behind the register to call 911.

The other customers who’re stand in line to pay for their stuff complain and shout at us for cutting the line, but I ignore them and keep my eyes on the door.

And then he comes in. Ghostface stands tall and unbothered, looking almost calm which makes him even more menacing than when he was chasing us.

I take a step back, bumping into Sam and Tara, and keep my eyes on him when one of the customers who complained about us cutting the line steps in front of him.

“You got a problem here, guy?” he asks Ghostface and I have to suppress a scream when not even a second later, Ghostface pulls a knife out of his robe and stabs him with it.

The other customer gasp and scream in horror as absolute chaos breaks out, and I don’t protest when Sam pulls me backward, further into the store and away from Ghostface who drops the customer he just stabbed before ramming his knife into the neck of another guy who comes at him.

It’s all happening so fast, it feels like a dream, but I know it’s not because Sam keeps dragging me with her and Tara until we’re at the back of the store with our backs against the coolers.

Ghostface’s latest victim collapses, his lifeless eyes staring at me when he lands on the floor and I think this is it. He’s going to kill us now, but then the store owner behind the register pulls out a shotgun and fires it at Ghostface.

He misses, but it makes Ghostface scramble for cover and Sam, Tara, and I stare in horror as the owner cocks the gun, his eyes scanning the isles for any sign of the masked killer.

“Go out the back!” he shouts and we rush to the back door, but it’s locked and before the owner can give us the key, Ghostface appears out of nowhere.

He stabs the poor man in his shoulder and rips the gun out of his hands before shoving him to the ground and shooting him without a moment’s hesitation.

The sight makes my blood run cold, but it’s a reminder that if we don’t act, we’re going to be next, so I’m quick to pull Sam and Tara to the ground behind one of the nearby shelves.

There’s only one way out, and Ghostface is blocking it, so we’ll either have to somehow get around him or distract him long enough for the police to get here.

I’m sure by now someone’s already called them, but with Ghostface each second counts and if we don’t play this right we’ll be dead long before anyone can help us.

We crawl down an isle out of sight of Ghostface, but when we hear the shotgun cock again, we stop.

It’s nearer than I would have liked and my heart pounds in my chest when I meet Tara’s and Sam’s eyes.

They’re both white as a wall and Tara is crying silently, her mascara running down her cheek, and I grit my teeth, trying to keep my own panic at bay.

This is like the time Tara and I hid in the hospital. We’re sitting ducks, just like we were back then, and I know the only thing that kept us alive back then was staying as calm as possible for as long as possible. Well, that and Dewey, but there’s no time to dwell on that now.

Deep breaths, Y/N.

There’s a crunch, and I close my eyes, trying to figure out where Ghostface might be heading. Not a moment later though, a shot rings out and my eyes fly open again when the glass door of the cooler behind us shatters.

Tara let’s out an involuntary whimper which leads to another shot being fired in our direction. It hits the shelf above us and makes bags of chips explode and rain down on us.

Then, silence.

Sam ushers us around the other side of the shelf and we press ourselves against it in hopes of making ourselves less visible and for a moment I feel her hand on mine.

Even now, her touch sends sparks up my arm, but I don’t look at her. I just turn my hand around and slip my fingers between her trembling ones, squeezing gently.

It’s not an acknowledgment of defeat—I’m not going to just let us die like this— but I want to reassure her that I’m here. I’m here and I’m going to do everything in my power to prevent anything from happening to her or Tara.

They have to get out of here. That’s all that matters.

The sound of approaching footsteps right behind us makes me hold my breath, and my eyes dart around the floor in front of us until they land on a crushed soda can.

It’s by Sam’s feet and when I squeeze her hand again and tilt my head in the direction of it, she reaches for it. Tara watches us with wide eyes and a tear running down her cheek.

We need a distraction. That’s our only chance.

Sam shoots me a questioning look, but I just raise my hand in front of us and hold up three fingers.

3. . .

She frowns, but I gesture at the can and fold down a finger.

2. . .

Understanding dawns on her and I nod encouragingly and jut my chin in the direction of the other side of the store before folding down another finger.

1. . .

I fold down my last finger and Sam grits her teeth before throwing the can.

It clatters against a shelf on the other side of the store and not even a second later a gunshot rings out.

This is my chance.

I jump up, much to Sam’s and Tara’s surprise and make a run for Ghostface who’s got his back turned to me.

At the sound of my footsteps, he spins around and aims the gun at me. My heart drops for a moment, but when he pulls the trigger nothing happens.

He didn’t reload it which is exactly what I was counting on.

I close the remaining distance between us and grab the barrel of the gun and push it up so it’s no longer pointing at me. I push against it with all my strength which makes Ghostface stumble back and into a shelf.

“Y/N!” Sam shouts when he manages to cock the gun again.

I grunt and shout, “Run!” right before he pulls the trigger. This time the gun fires, but Ghostface misses me because the barrel is still pointing at the ceiling.

Debris rains down on us as our struggle continues and because my hands are sweaty, my grip on the gun slips until I’m shoved backward.

“No!” Sam’s scream breaks my heart when Ghostface reloads the gun and points it at me, but just like the first time, nothing happens when he pulls the trigger.

It��s empty.

“Run, Sam!” I shout again, lunging at Ghostface before he can grab his knife. “Get out of here!”

“No!” she cries in protest and when I catch a glimpse of her to my left I’m surprised to see that Tara is actively holding her back and dragging her to the front door of the bodega. “Y/N! No!”

“Just go!” I try to focus all my attention on Ghostface, but Sam’s continued cries of protest make my heart hurt until Tara finally manages to get her outside.

I honestly don’t know how she did it because she’s like a foot shorter than Sam, but all that matters right now is that they’re both safe.

Ghostface and I stumbled through the store, hitting every shelf imaginable all while I’m trying to stop him from reaching for his knife.

“Motherfucker,” I hiss through gritted teeth when he slams my face against the cooler, making the already cracked glass break completely.

Something warm runs down my cheek, but I don’t have time to wipe it away because not a moment later I’m kneed in the stomach and I double over, coughing.

This Ghostface is nothing like Amber or Richie. Whoever’s under the mask knows what they’re doing and if it wasn’t for the nearing police sirens I know I’d be done for.

Ghostface shoves me once more for good measure, making me drop to my knees. Then he hurries out of the bodega, leaving me alone to cough and chuckle mirthlessly in disbelief.

Sam and Tara are okay. I’m okay.

I sit down and stretch my legs out in front of me.

They’re both okay.

I rest my head back against the frame of the broken cooler door and catch my breath while watching the red and blue lights of the police cars dance on the ceiling.

I can hear some shouting, someone’s probably calling for me, but I’m too exhausted to respond, so I just close my eyes and wrap my arms around my aching stomach.

I stay like that for what feels like minutes but is probably just a few seconds in real life before feeling warm hands on my cheeks.

“Y/N, hey, open your eyes. Look at me. Look at me. Are you okay?” Sam’s shaky voice makes me open my eyes and when I see her kneeling in front of me, I smile weakly.

“I’m okay,” I whisper, but she doesn’t seem to believe me. Her eyes dart all over my face and she brushes her thumb just below the cut on my cheek. “Hey. . . I promise, I’m okay,” I say again when her chin starts quivering and in response she throws her arms around my neck and pulls me into a hug.

I return the embrace, although a little less energetic because my stomach still hurts and rub my hands up and down her back. I keep repeating that I’m okay until Tara comes into the store, followed by two police officer’s who take in the scene with wide eyes.

She drops down onto her knees as well as soon as she’s by my side and I’m quick to include her in the hug.

This is just the beginning, but we’re okay, and I will continue to do everything in my power to make sure it stays that way.

_______________________________________________

Good God, that was stressful, but we’re okay!

Hope you guys enjoyed this part. For some reason it was a bit of a struggle to write, but I did it and I can move on now.

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23 @idontliketoread2137

#x reader #samantha carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #scream #light angst

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