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alisonsfics · 3 months ago

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back in chicago - part 1

pairing: ex-boyfriend! carmy berzatto x reader

summary: after years in germany, you return to chicago and immediately run into your ex-boyfriend. if you thought it’d be easy jumping back into your old life, you were wrong. new people had entered carmy’s life, including a new woman, but you were still everything to him.

word count: 1.8k

part 2 / part 3 / part 4

You threw the final box into the trash pile and admired your finished room. You had just moved back to Chicago and as of five minutes ago, you were officially moved in. Your best friend, Maria, let you live with her since her roommate had just moved out.

“Last box done?” She called, from the living room. You walked down the hallway and into the living room. “I am officially unpacked,” you cheered as she applauded you.

You plopped down next to her on the couch. “You ready to celebrate your first night back in Chicago?” She asked you, raising her eyebrows.

After living in Germany for five years and teaching at a university there, you were ready to be home. You had gotten fired from your professor job and then dumped by your boyfriend, who was a German guy that you worked with at the university.

“How are we celebrating?” You asked, very intrigued. She used her hands to do a drumroll on the couch. “We are having a girls night out at a fancy restaurant and then wherever the evening takes us.” She told you.

“Oooo a fancy restaurant? How luxurious,” already mentally picking out an outfit, “what is it called?” You asked.

She pulled out a flier from behind her back and handed it to you. You ran your fingers over the glossy cover. The food in the photos looked delicious. There was a large bear logo in the middle of the flier.

You opened the flier and the giant words across the top read: “Head Chef Carmen Berzatto Presents…”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “Maria? What the fuck is this?” You asked, seeing your ex-boyfriend’s picture staring at you.

“Your old flame just opened a restaurant a few weeks ago, and I got us on the list.” She told you, excitedly. She expected you to be a lot more excited than you were. The emotions she was seeing on your face were more aligned with dread.

“We cannot go there, Maria. No way,” you protested.

“But come on, it’s Carmy,” she argued. Those words shouldn’t have been enough to convince you, but they did. Carmy was your one that got away, right guy wrong time, soulmate, whatever you wanted to call him.

You and Carmy hadn’t even been in the same room since you left for Germany and he broke things off, fearing how hard long distance would be.

“What the fuck do I wear?” You mumbled, half talking to yourself. Maria jumped up from the couch and pulled you towards your closet. “I will find you the perfect outfit.” She promised.

You sat on your bed as she sorted through your closet. “Oh, girl,” she said, freezing as she looked at a dress.

“What is it?” You asked, curiously. She spun around with the dress in her hand. “It has to be this one. It’s beautiful.” She said, in awe. You smiled to yourself as you looked at the dress. You did love the dress, and it looked fantastic on you.

It was a long maroon dress with a slit up the side. It had puff sleeves and a sweetheart neckline that fit in all the best ways.

You both spent the next few hours getting ready and singing along to your favorite songs in the process. You both knew you had to look perfect to see Carmy for the first time in five years. Maria helped you make sure your makeup was perfect, and then it was time to go.

As you walked up to the restaurant, you felt all the butterflies in your stomach. Maria took her phone out, and you both took some pictures in front of the building.

“You ready?” She asked you, fully aware of how brave you needed to be to go in there. You gave her a quick nod before you could change your mind. You both walked up to the host station, and you were face to face with Richie.

“Richie?” You asked, in shock as you noticed his suit. That was the complete opposite of the Richie you grew up with.

“You guys made it? Welcome welcome,” he said, walking over to give you both hugs. You realized that you’d probably be seeing more familiar faces than just Richie and Carmy.

“Right this way, ladies,” Richie said, guiding you both to your table. You noticed the back wall had windows into the kitchen. You quickly scanned for Carmy, but didn’t see him.

After Richie left the table, Maria noticed how nervous you looked. “Just take a deep breath. Nothing is going to happen. It’s just dinner and talking to some old friends afterwards. And it’s Carmy we’re talking about.” She reassured you. You knew she was right, but you couldn’t help the stress that maybe Carmy didn’t want to see you or was mad at you for leaving.

Richie was giddy as he headed back to the kitchen. He had been waiting all week for tonight. Maria had texted him ahead of time that you both were coming to dinner. Carmy had no idea, and Richie had been waiting to see his reaction.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sydney asked, seeing the giant smile on Richie’s face that wasn’t exactly on brand for him.

He grabbed Sydney’s hand and pulled her to the side of the kitchen. “You see that girl in the corner booth with the red dress?” He asked her. Sydney scanned the crowd for a second before finding you. She quickly nodded her head. “That’s Carmy’s ex-girlfriend.” Richie said, watching Sydney’s eyes go wide.

“Is she crazy or something?” Sydney asked, causing Richie to quickly shake his head. “No, not that kind of ex-girlfriend. She’s perfect. Her and Carmy were madly in love and shit. She got a job offer in Germany, and Carmy couldn’t handle the long distance. Her friend Maria told me they were coming, and Carmy has no idea.” Richie said, failing miserably at hiding his excitement.

“You’re so evil for this,” Sydney said, laughing. She quickly grabbed a bottle of wine and brought it out to your table. She knew Richie was meddling, but it’d be a shame if she didn’t use her front row seat to watch the chaos.

“Why are we so stuck on me and Carmy? What about you and Richie? You think I forgot about that? Him and Tiff have been divorced for a while, she’s marrying some new guy. Why haven’t you shot your shot?” You asked Maria, flipping the situation.

Back when you and Carmy were dating, you both had set Richie and Maria up on a double date. Neither of them were looking for something serious, but they were friends with benefits for a while, until Richie met Tiffany. You’d always suspected that they cared more about each other than they let on. “That is not why we’re here.” She corrected you.

Sydney walked up to your table, getting both of you to shut up immediately. “Hi, I’m Chef Sydney. Richie told me you both were family friends, so I wanted to bring out some wine for you on the house.” She said, pouring some wine into your glasses. You both introduced yourselves to her and chatted for a minute or two before she left.

“I’m going to the bathroom really quick. I’ll be right back.” You told Maria. You walked across the restaurant and went to the bathroom. On your way back to the table, you saw Carmy through the window as he called out orders around the kitchen.

You felt yourself freeze where you were. It felt like time was moving in slow motion. You memorized every single detail of how he looked. He looked the same as the last time you saw him, but also completely different. He lightly pulled on his curls, and you recognized his nervous habit. It reminded you of when Carmy asked you to be his girlfriend.

You rushed back to your table, paranoid that he would see you staring.

“You saw him, didn’t you?” Maria asked, recognizing the blush on your cheeks.

After you both had finished eating, Richie encouraged you to wait for the one last table to leave and then you could talk to everybody.

Despite trying to bail four times, Maria had made sure that you stayed. All while your pleas for Maria to talk to Richie were met with protest.

You watched the last guests leave the restaurant, and Richie walked over to your table. “Would you ladies like to follow me?” He asked, holding out his arm for Maria. You smirked at her as you noticed how flustered she got.

Richie opened the door to the kitchen and led you both inside. You didn’t see Carmy anywhere, but noticed Sydney, who looked just as excited as Richie.

Natalie rounded the corner, and you saw her eyes light up when she saw you. She ran over and pulled you into a hug. You both always assumed you’d end up as sister-in-laws and loved each other like best friends.

“Richie told me you were back in town. It’s so good to see you.” She said, smiling. Nat was one of the few people from Chicago who had gone to visit you in Germany.

“Yo, cousin. I have some people who want to talk to you.” Richie called out.

“Who is it?” You heard Carmy respond, and then he appeared in the doorway to what looked like an office.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled under his breath. He was stunned and almost paralyzed. The whole team watched as he ogled you. You were the last person he thought he’d see. He was almost convinced he’d never see you again.

“But you were…Germany and t-the university…and, you’re here?” He rambled, trying to process what was happening. His eyes raked some your body, admiring you. His gaze went back up and met yours. He never thought he’d look into your eyes again.

“She’s back in Chicago, baby,” Richie cheered, causing the whole team to laugh.

You walked towards him and held out your arms for a hug. He quickly pulled you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around your waist just like they had a million times before. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

You both pulled away, and you could still see the shock in Carmy’s eyes. “Are you good? I-I mean, how are you?” He mumbled over his words, nervously.

“I’m really good. How are you? The restaurant is amazing.” You complimented him. Carmy’s two lives were crashing together. He had two sections of his life. He had his life before you and his life after you, and now they were blending together.

“Thank you. That means a lot. You always knew I could do it.” He said, smiling as a slideshow of your relationship played through his head.

“So, we going clubbing tonight to celebrate?” Richie asked, being met with cheers from everyone. As you turned your focus away from Richie and looked back at Carmy, you caught him checking you out again. You knew it was going to be a long night, but there was still lots you didn’t know.

Like the fact that Carmy wasn’t single anymore.

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tremendouscreationperson · 3 months ago

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Logan x Reader pt.5

The long awaited reunion

This isn't the last one don't worry

<< Part 4 Part 6 >> Masterlist

You were the last to exit and as though rehearsed your family parted to the left and right revealing him.

Logan was standing next to Wade with a sincere grin. His eyebrows had risen and he let out a shaky breath. It took less than two steps for him to be in your space and scooping you up. Crushing you in a bear hug, one hand caressed your spine, whilst the other tangled in your hair.

“You came.” He breathed into your ear, taking a deep breath.

“Of course, I missed you.” You whispered back, tugging him closer.

Logan pulled back slightly to observe your face, hand sliding down to cup your cheek. He didn't care about his ‘bad boy/couldn't care less’ reputation anymore. He had lost you twice! He loved you and he needed the world to know. “It took a full month to convince the TVA to bring you back and B-15 told us she'd give you the option of staying, I was terrified I'd never see you again.”

The pain behind his eyes was heartbreaking.

“It's okay.” Your hands on his back rubbed small circles, trying to calm him. “I'm here.”

“I love you.” He declared.

And in that moment it didn't matter that he wasn't your first love because you knew he'd be the last. He would be there for you and you'd be there in turn. “I love you, too.”

Logan bent his neck and kissed you. It was easy, slow. He didn't need to rush. He had you now. You were back in his arms.

“Wooooo-hooooo!” Wade cheered. “Gosh guys I'm so emotional I need some tissues… and some lotion… and a gag.”

Logan growled which went straight to your abdomen. Shit. That was hot. He was hot. Fuck you were done for.

El shoved Wade but was chuckling.

“Glad to see you.” You spoke over Logan's shoulder.

“So am I, I tell ya, the moping this guy has done.” He clapped Logan's back. “I'm sure the Cavillrine wouldn't have been such a pussy.”

“The who?” You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion but let Wade babble on about ‘Superman’ and ‘oh my god him in the Witcher?!’.

As Wade yapped he led you all out of illuminati headquarters. He told you that the apartment block which had been brought for you was one that he and Logan currently resided in. He then went on to tell you about his blind roommate and that they were going to throw you a housewarming party at the weekend.

The apartments weren't far, but Wade had booked a - far too small - taxi for you. Resulting in six suited up heroes standing on the sidewalk just staring blankly at him.

“Dopinder, I swear on Blanche, Dorothy, Sophia and Rose, I will beat you.” He threatened the man, taking his mask off to give an unsettling amount of eye contact. “I told you there would be seven!”

“Mr Pool, you know the type of Taxi I drive.” Dopinder argued back. “I can do two trips but it won't be cheap.”

“You sexy little bastard.” Wade's eyes narrowed.

“It’s okay.” Logan interrupted another round of flattering insults. “We can walk back.” He gestured to you and himself.

“Uh, peanut. I may still be at a third grade reading level but seven minus two is five.” Wade used his fingers animatedly to show the maths. “We won't all fit!”

“I can... go with them.” Laura suggested. She looked a little awkward about the idea but she stood by it.

“Aww! Y/N and her Wolverines!”

You frowned. “Why do you pronounce my name like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like Y/N. My name is Y/N.”

“Yeah, exactly!”

The man baffled you but you shook your head letting it go. The others piled into the small vehicle and waved at you as they pulled away from the curb.

“How long’s the walk?” You asked, genuinely curious. You were in New York, that was obvious, the sun beat down on midday traffic, there was the constant buzz of life and you felt at ease. This was familiar in a way which had long been forgotten.

“Give or take twenty minutes.”

You nodded and gestured for him to lead the way. Logan took hold of your hand and pulled you along.

“So, Laura this is New York.” You smiled at her, her eyes were darting around taking everything in.

“It's busy.” She commented.

You chuckled. “This is fairly quiet, or at least for my world it is.”

Laura took the information in, decowling herself. You smiled wider and reached out for her hand.

“Logan, what's it been like living here?”

“I won't say exactly the same.” He scratched his head. “But it isn't really different. The News is on at 4 o’clock rather than 5. For me it's warmer.” For you and Laura it was cooler, years of that boiling wasteland had acclimatised you both. “I like the milkshakes from Joey's.”

“Have you ever had a milkshake?” You all stopped at a crossing. Laura frowned at the lights and you explained what was happening, you also told her the gesture to thank the cars. “Laura, baby, have you had a milkshake?”

She shook her head. “I don't think so.”

“Well, we'll have to pick some up.” You declared.

The walk was pleasant. Your Wolverines were awkward around each other and for some reason that was the cutest thing. They both were at ease with you though so you operated as their interpreter.

Every now and then you stopped to admire a building or a tree or even just look in a shop window, mostly for you but it was also for Laura. You knew she was born in a different time to you. She wasn't used to this level of civilization. She had told you once, when she had snuck into your room after a particularly bad nightmare, that she was raised in a facility. That a nurse had broken her out and handed her off to Logan. That he hadn't been too kind but Charles was. That they spent time on the road and he had died for her. That her and others had to escape to EDEN. But EDEN wasn't all it was cracked up to be, they were safe but they were poor. They were needy and eventually they were transported to the Void.

She was mesmerised by a little sausage dog. You asked the elderly lady if she could pet it and the woman eagerly agreed.

Laura was cautious but after watching you stroke the little fella she did. A surprised grin formed. “He's cute.”

“He's called Harold.” The lady told you as Harold flopped onto his back. “After my late husband.”

“That's very sweet.” You rubbed his belly.

“Why are you lot dressed like that?” She wondered. "You aren't heroes are you?"

Images of backlash and abuse bombarded your mind. Would this lady suddenly hate you like others had? Wait, were you still a second class citizen because you were a mutant? No. That couldn't be true. Not when you had Captain America and Ghost Rider and Venom. How could people love them but hate mutants? “We're going to a fancy dress party.” The excuse tumbled from your mouth. Two sets of wide eyes glanced at you and then each other.

“Well, I'm sure you'll win.” She tutted at Harold. “Come on, fat boy, let's get a move on.”

Harold didn't seem like he wanted to but did eventually follow her, plodding away.

“You don't have to be worried.” Logan reassured you as you rose from the crouched position. “Being a Mutant isn't a bad thing here.”

“It isn't?”

“No. Not here.”

“So you tell me it's warmer but not that being a Mutant is okay?”

He didn't have an answer for that. He had been in as much shock as you that it was alright but he had settled in remarkably easy. He wasn't turned away from bars or eyed suspiciously in the street and he loved it.

“What's a fancy dress party?” Laura questioned.

“It's a party where people dress up as characters or animals or things.”

“And a party is when people are together and eat?”

“Yeah, eat, drink, have fun.” You resumed the journey.

“Okay.” She watched a pigeon fly overhead. “And Wade is having a party for us?”

“Yeah.” Logan grumbled. “His parties are a bit weird but his friends are okay.”

The apartment was nice. There was a safety deposit box which contained your keys, you and Laura had separate homes. You all did. That was daunting. No one else lived in the building except for you seven (plus Blind Al and a pretty ugly dog) so, once you'd exited the elevator, it didn't surprise you at all to find each person's front doors were open.

You followed the sound of Wade nattering on and found everyone crowding a kitchen counter. This must be Wade's house as it was lived in. It wasn't blank and pristine like the others were. Wade stood with the dog - Mary Puppins - cradled in his arms, next to Blind Al. Gambit was to her left, leaning against the counter. El and Blade's backs were facing you.

“And then Blind Al and I found a buttload of- oh hey!” Blind Al’s face swivelled over in your direction. “Al, sweetheart, you know our beefcake Logan, well, there's a mini version of him with boobs and the one he's been a little bitch about.”

“Ah, Y/N.” She gave you an unenthusiastic wave. “Wish I was deaf and blind the way he was going on. Real pussy drier.”

You hadn't expected her to be as crude as Wade but then you really thought about it. If these two lived together yeah they were bound to be alike. They would rub off on each other. That thought amused you because you could literally imagine Wade trying his luck.

“Yes.” El had caught the look on your face as Al spoke, she tried to steer the subject. “They've been telling us about their relationship and how they met.”

“I li’ ‘em. Both a’ bad a’ ‘ch other.” Gambit placed an arm around Al's shoulders. “I li’ her t’ best.”

“Get off my roommate you perve.” Deadpool spoke with the dogs tongue in his mouth, then he addressed you three. “Basically explaining the first two movies. My relationship with Vanessa and how that's going.”

Blade whistled in a way that sounded like it descented. “Poorly.”

“Vanessa?” You glanced around at each member in the room. “Aren't you with Spiderman?”

“Ah.” He placed the dog on the counter. “So movieverse Deadpool has to be straight presenting or the dude bros will bomb it. I can be as gay as I want if I have a girlfriend.”

You filed that into the "this makes no sense to you but you didn't have the energy to argue with him" drawer. In your universe Deadpool had a crush on Spidey and it was plain, to anyone that looked, they liked each other.

“So, the living situation…” You stroked the dog's head when it twaddled up to you. “How are we feeling?”

“It's ‘lotta space.” Gambit voiced your own opinion.

“It'll be nice to have privacy but I won't lock my door.” Blade's eyes had scanned each of your faces and landed on Wade's. “If you're knocking it's locked.”

“I have my own key.” Laura commented. “I've never been alone.”

“How many rooms are they?” You asked the group.

“One bedroom, one bathroom.” El supplied.

That wasn't what you wanted to hear. You and Laura could've shared if there were separate rooms. “If you're scared we can bunk together.”

Wade burst out in maniacal giggles. He had to clutch his stomach to calm himself. “I-I’m so-sorry. Did-did you see the- the way Peanuts face-” He took a deep breath. “Oh, that's good shit. He realised there'd be no sex tonight. Damn, that was hilarious." He wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye.

Blind Al smacked his head with surprising accuracy. “Can I bunk with one of you?”

The TV was on, lowly creating background noise as Laura channel surfed. She was wearing one of the outfits provided. It was a pair of grey joggers and a vest top. She had taken the matching hoodie off a while ago.

“So this is what people do?” She called from the couch as you made a quick pasta dish. It wasn't difficult to boil a pot and throw some pesto and cheese at it but it felt so foreign to be making this, not to be cracking open a tin of spam or fruit salad. To be actually making food.

“Uh huh,” You added salt to the boiling water. “It's like a pretty big pastime.”

She huffed and flicked over to a voice you never thought you'd hear again. Judge Judy. You padded over, barefoot, to the front room. You were wearing a pair of black joggers and a white tee, your feet were cold. “My mom and I used to watch this.”

“She's loud.” Laura looked up at you.

“Yeah, she always put them in their place, though.” You crossed your arms. “My nan, as well. I'd come home and my mom would be passed out watching this. You could just switch it on and she'd fall asleep instantly.” You extenuated the last word with a snap of your fingers.

“What was her name?” Laura's eyes were big.

You told her your mother's name and then your nans. “I don't know if they'd even be alive in this universe.”

“How would we- check?” Laura jumped as Judy yelled ‘baloney’.

“I dunno, I suppose Facebook?” Laura made a face and you waved her off, you'd explain social media at a later date. “We'll have to get phones tomorrow. Start buying clothes as well, get you into music and TV and all the usual teenage shit.”

The door opened and Logan kicked it shut. “I'm back.” He juggled the plastic bags.

“Hi.” You greeted him, helping with the bags.

“We didn't know when you were arriving.” He blushed. You were both standing in ‘your room’, you had begun to pack away your clothes. “I'm sorry, I have some pasta at mine, I can run down the road and get sauce and cheese and other things.”

“Okay, that would be really helpful.” You took your gloves off and chucked them on top of the duvet. “Thank you. Don't get too many things, though, 'cause I'll have to do a big shop tomorrow.”

Logan’s hand twitched to catch yours. No. He needed to leave, he couldn't get distracted. Despite the fact that he really wanted to get distracted with you. No. He couldn't. Laura was currently in the shower, using the imperishable goods that had been provided and he didn't know how long you two would be alone.

“I got a few basics.” Placing the bags on your counter. The layout of your apartment was the same as Wade's, as everyone's, but the colour scheme was slightly different. Your counter was oak, where Wade's was marble.

“A few.” You mocked him watching him unload.

There was the pesto and cheese along with bread, butter, eggs, bacon, bottles of water, two fizzy drinks, chocolate bars, cereal, a multi bag of chips, cookies, all the feminine products in the store and fuzzy socks.

"You knew my feet were cold." Your fingers grazed the socks.

He shrugged, a red tint on his cheeks. "I saw you didn't have many socks and they were in the store so I thought..." He trailed off.

You kissed his cheek and thanked him. He caught your elbow and captured your lips. His lips were soft and delicate, taking you in. Logan pulled back, reluctantly, and placed a final kiss to your temple.

You let your eyes fly to Laura she was pointedly watching Judy, to give you some privacy.

“Laura look!” You picked up the cereal, it was the same brand she favoured in the Void. She looked over and almost split her face with a grin. Laura stood and bounced over to you both. She made a move to open the cereal and you stopped her. “No, missy. Tomorrow morning you can have it how it's meant to be eaten but tonight we have pesto pasta. We have to try and work out what you like so we can buy more food.”

“It's-" Her brows pulled. "We can just buy food.” She looked down. “We don't have to…” She then turned her head away, upset. “Why am I sad?”

“Oh baby.” You rounded the counter and pulled her in. She hugged you tight and sniffled.

“You'll be okay, kid.” Logan spoke. You looked up at him and extended an arm, he took your hand and you eased him into the hug. Logan kissed your forehead and stroked her hair.

“I love you both.” You leaned fully into them, into your man and your child. They were all yours and that was brilliant.

“I love you.”

“Love you, more.” They both replied at the same time.

A hissing noise interrupted the moment and you cursed, scrambling to the pot that boiled over. You turned the oven down and stirred the pasta.

“Logan, can you show Laura where everything goes?” You asked over your shoulder. “We can open both of the drinks, see what Laura likes best?”

He agreed and eased himself into the role of ‘father’ so easily. It suited him so well. He was born to care, either as a dad or a teacher or a friend.

When you previously shared a bed, Laura and you always slept facing each other and tonight was no different. You both went to each individual door and bid goodnight to your family - Logan telling you three times that he was only next door - then came back and settled down.

She held your hand and was able to sleep almost immediately. It was the softness of the blankets, the comfortable pillow, the fresh sheets, the glass of warm milk you'd made for her, the fact that she was full for the first time in years.

She was content.

You, however, were the opposite.

It was too soft, too comfy, too good to be true. You were waiting for the rug to be pulled from under your feet, waiting for someone to tell you this wasn't real. Cassandra had created this as a cruel illusion, you were really back in the Void with her.

Taking meticulous care, you extracted yourself from the bed, she deserved a good night's sleep. She deserved so much more.

You waddled to the fire escape and opened the window. The night was beautiful. Thousands of multicoloured lights shone, illuminating the roads. There was still life on the streets, still takeaways open and people milling about. You wouldn't have had a sight so gorgeous a week ago. It was cockroaches and murderers.

“Hey.” Logan spoke, causing you to jump. He was sitting on the steps to your left, smoking a cigar. He wore pyjama bottoms and nothing else. Fuck me. He was fucking ripped. You would never get used to how perfect his body was.

“Hi.” You climbed through, sitting back on the window sill, crossing your legs for completely innocent reasons.

“Can't sleep?”

You shook your head. “You?”

“I figured you'd find it hard to sleep.” He took another puff.

“What, so you've been out here all night?” You joked and except for the quirk of a brow, his face didn't move an inch, he just kept looking at you as you realised, “you have been.”

“I wanted to be here if you needed me.” He exhaled, smoke swirling towards the sky.

You stood from the sill and were in front of him in seconds, standing between his knees, hands cupping his cheeks. “Has anyone ever told you you're really cute?”

Logan rolled his eyes but smirked at you. “You'd be the first.”

“You are.” You vowed and bent your head.

This was the first time you initiated a kiss. You had told him to kiss you in the Void and you had kissed him back every other time, and you'd kissed his cheek but this was the first time you controlled an actual kiss.

You were tempted to heat it up but a small voice in the back of your head told you to take it slow. You knew you loved Logan and he loved you but you didn't know him. This version was different. You didn't actually know this man. Imagine if he was allergic to prawns or something?

You pulled away and found he chased after you, releasing a shaky breath against your lips.

“Do you want to come shopping with us tomorrow?” You whispered, lips touching his. His hands had found purchase at your thighs and he gave them a frustratingly good squeeze.

Licking his lips just so his tongue grazed yours. “Of course.” He pecked you. “Anything.”

Part 6

@geeksareunique @lovelyvaderx @melissa-ashe @st1nkabutt @maximumchilddreamland @ravenmedows @vulgarfuckinvirgo77

#logan howlett #logan #logan 2017 #logan x reader #james logan howlett #james howlett #xmen #wolverine #wolverine x men #deadpool 3 #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #wade wilson #wolverine x reader #the wolverine

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oimitocat · 23 days ago

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RIDE YOUR RHYTHM | OS

lee heesung x m!reader

3 & 1 trope + fluff + nsfw + hair pulling + slight choking + biting + riding + praise kink + cock warming + overstimulation + idol au!

a/n; the long awaited fic (do hope you enjoy)

when a group is successful two things happen- their company sabotages their rising fame by lowering their content or they overwork them.

to both you and heesung’s dismay there has been no time to yourselves. you have tried. you both have.

“yah, why are they staring at you so much?” you huff as you lean in to him during a fansign.

he looks at you with big, innocent eyes. “hm?”

“i get it you’re pretty but only i can eye you like that.”

he snorts, “eh? like what?” he smiles.

“like you’re mine.”

heesung rolls his eyes, “y/n, be for real.”

“i am-“

“hey, we gotta go do our choreography,” ni-ki taps your shoulder.

ugh. as much as you love being an idol and having fans, you also wish you could have a longer break between your schedules. seriously, at some point you felt like the only time you could see him was between waking up and going into the van to start of a busy day. interactions for the audience isn’t always authentic, so you felt STARVED.

“wanna sleep with you,” you groan as you crawl into his bed.

he scoots over, smiling to himself when you snuggle up behind him. your arms over his waist. you pepper his exposed nape with a small kiss. he smiles. you suppose this is a way to be with him when schedules get too busy.

you wake up hours later, he’s stirring in his sleep. you grab your phone and look at the time, it’s been four hours since you’ve fallen asleep. it’s 4 AM.

“sung?” you mumble, he grunts. “you okay? you’re moving a lot baby.”

“mmmhmm,” he turns over and snuggles into your chest.

you smile and place a kiss on his forehead. you close your eyes again, hoping to regain sleep. your schedule for the day is absolute madness and even just a wink more of sleep is all you want-

“n/n…”

“mm?”

you open one eye only and see his bambi eyes looking up at you. the lamp in his room is on, giving a nice glow on his skin. the two of you were too sleepy to turn it off last night. he’s tired, you can tell. yet, his hand snakes up your chest and around your neck.

you close your eyes, smiling. “heesung…”

“just a kiss…” he whispers, scooting up to peck your lips.

you giggle, kissing him deeper. it’s tender, of course, you’re enjoying the moment. he’s the one that initiates, both arms snaked around your neck already. the way his fingers card through your hair elicits a moan out of you. you always enjoy the movement in your hair, especially from him.

your hands are already down on his hips— you hear the front door open.

“mmmffff,” you groan, shoving your face into the pillow when your manager starts knocking on everyone’s door to get up.

heesung sighs, closing his eyes out of sadness.

the second time is when you’re rushing to get in the shower. you chose to sleep five more minutes and now you’re behind schedule. heesung was already showering and naturally, he makes space for you to join him. it’s normal, yet his cute eyes just enticed you to kiss him and kiss him and-

“y/n we have to go, we’re late.” he says sternly, yet smiling.

“i just want to kiss you, i can’t do that outside the dorms.” you argue.

he pours shampoo in his hand and yanks you down by the ear. “well let’s hope we come home early. now tilt your head so i can wash your hair.”

and you grumble and let him do just that. when later comes it’s too late to even acknowledge each other. you’re drained and so is he. still, you sleep with him in the same bed, always alternating from your bed or his bed every other day. it’s a tiring schedule. overwhelming.

“hyung…” jay whispers to you one evening.

you were getting your hair done. the stylist was frustrated, they were short staffed this morning and running behind. of course, they quickly managed to get more stylists on the floor to get back on track but still. the pressure was in the air.

“hm?” you open one eye and look at him.

“uhm, can you come real quick?”

“i’m still working on his hair, could it wait two more minutes?” the stylist asks.

jay gives you a look. you nod, it can wait two more minutes. yet, as soon as she’s done you excuse yourself and follow jay. everyone is running around, cameras everywhere— a hectic photo session for the new album.

“hey, sung,” you take him in your arms and kiss his head.

jay leaves you to it. heesung heaves into your chest.

“i’m so tired,” he cries. “how can i look alive in the stupid photos if i feel like i’ll pass out any minute.” he lifts up his head and looks at you with teary eyes, “we had two hours of sleep y/n.”

you nod, listening to his grievances. it’s best to always let him cry it out. he’s frustrated, tired, exhausted. all of you are.

“make me feel better,” he begs.

“heesung i can’t baby, we’re-“

“y/n,” he tugs at your shirt.

you sigh, you won’t go too far. a quick make out session. that’s all you can offer now. you know he’s pent up, you are as well.

“guys, seriously?” jungwon sigh, staring at you.

“he started it,” you mumble.

jungwon rolls his eyes, “well everyone is called for the group photoshoot. let’s go.” he eyes heesung, “hyung… try to get a touch up…” he says gently.

doesn’t matter how tired the two of you are, everyone knows jungwon carries the brunt of it more.

the third time is when the two of you were alone in the dorms. everyone else had separate promotions. heesung had one too, but until later. the two of you had time to yourselves after so long.

from watching a show, to making out on the couch. heesung’s stuttering breaths as you kissed down his jaw, eliciting soft moans from him. he melted into the couch at your touches, enjoying the feeling. it’s been so long since you’ve touched him like this.

the two of you were hungry.

“oh,” heesung breathes out, closing his eyes in bliss when you palm the tent in his joggers. you keep trailing kisses down, raising his shirt with your other hand in order to kiss down his stomach.

you feel him twitch under your palm and you reach the hem of his joggers. his fingers come to card through your hair—

all hands fly off of each other when the padlock beeps. heesung sits up alongside you, wide eyes looking at who comes inside the door.

“please don’t be naked- OH GOOD!” jay gasps.

jake laughs as he follows suit. “sorry guys, jay forgot something. oh, by the way, heesung hyung-“

heesung groans, flopping down on the couch, bitter. he still listens to jake talk, but he’s giving y/n a sour look. you laugh, adoring how upset he is.

“jake just shut up,” you tease while leaning down to kiss heesung gently.

in the end, jay couldn’t find what he needed and took up all the time you and heesung could have had to yourselves. it’s frustrating but the two of you cope better.

the new album comes out. their sleep schedule is back to being horrible. you find yourself sleeping in the van more than sleeping in the dorms. you keep having to use eyedrops to tame the visibility of your lack of sleep. the month feels like hell.

yet, once all is said and done. there’s a pause. a short moment where everyone is given a two day break. two days afterwards it’s off to do some promotions in the states.

“you have to be quiet, everyone else is sleeping.”

you raise a brow, “shouldn’t i be telling you that?”

heesung sticks his tongue out teasingly at you before kicking off his boxers. you chuckle at his cuteness, sitting up slightly on the pillows. the good thing is your room is the farthest from everyone else. still, your noise has to be kept moderately low.

“where’s the lube?” heesung asks, patting the sheets.

“uh-“ you find it and pop open the cap. “you sure you wanna ride me? last time you gave up and made me do all the work-“

“shut up,” heesung cups your mouth with his hand.

you snort and shake your head. he takes the lube bottle and pour some onto your fingers. you smile as he kisses your temple before adjusting himself on your lap. you bring your lubed up fingers under his weight and work on easing him open. it’s been way too long since any of you two had done anything, of course you need to work each other up a bit.

his fingers grip your shoulders as he balanced himself. you now smear some lube over you hardened dick, minutes after opening him up. he lowers himself down slowly when your tip aligns to his hole.

“there you go,” you say softly, enjoying the warmth that engulfs you.

heesung lets out a small breath when he’s fully seated. “ah, fuck…” he eyes you, a bit shy.

“you okay?”

“it’s been so long,” heesung giggles, pecking your lips between his words, “i feel so full…” you smile, hands on his thighs.

“i can do all the work baby, i know you’re tired,” you reason while placing gentle kisses on his neck.

he hums, moving his hips slowly. “i can do it… second round is all you.”

you snort, “oh so we’re going at it?”

“only if you want,” he says, finding a nice pace and going with it. “i definitely want.”

you grin, hands moving to the back of his waist, gripping his ass. you litter his collarbone with kisses, nibbling and licking as he rides you. your breathing becomes erratic after a while, as one of his hands comes up to card through your hair.

he tugs your hair back, making you look up at him. his hair is already sticking to his forehead as he sweats. he smiles breathlessly at you and you smile back, enjoying how good he feels. he keeps a strong grip on your hair, making you wince every now and then but he pecks your lips just as he does it, knowing well what he’s doing.

“hah…” he whines as he gets close to his orgasm, hips moving faster.

knowing he’s getting tired, you grip him and move him. you pant, feeling your own orgasm built up. “fuck, keep doing that,” you groan.

heesung swallows, tilting his head back. taking notice of his exposed neck, you kiss and kiss. he’s sensitive in a certain area and you moan when his walls flutter around you from the sensitivity. his noises go high pitched, breathless and barely audible. his body speaks out to you more and you know he’s on the edge. you tip him over it by biting the juncture of his neck.

he trembles, choking on his cry. you feel his cum spilling over your stomach as well as his. it’s so hot. you move his hips a bit more, feeling him twitch.

“hah…” you raise your head, looking up at him.

his chest heaves and you feel his legs tighten by your sides. you grin, lifting him off your lap and pulling out only to flip him over and shove him into the sheets. his hips are raised, back arching beautifully.

“so pretty,” you say as you push back inside of him.

he moans softly into the sheets. you start at a gentle pace, still recovering over your previous orgasm. the two of you like going at it without recovery periods to see how much you can handle. it’s fun.

heesung gets overstimulated fast. even as you glide your hand over his back, shoving his face into the sheets and limiting his oxygen, he gets overwhelmed pretty fast. you love pushing him, making him twitch and whine. you enjoy getting out those pretty noises from him— and both just his noises.

“what baby?” you ask as you keep pounding into him, rough and brutal. “feel good?”

“nngh,” heesung clutches at the sheets beneath him, “slow down-“

“but you’re doing so good, baby,” you say, grabbing his hips and keeping him still. “taking me so well.”

heesung’s walls flutter around you again. you grin, enjoying when he does that.

“don’t you wanna be good?” you ask, as you pull out again. “flip over.”

heesung whines before obeying. he lays on his back and sighs. his legs spread and you smile.

“good boy,” you push inside.

you glide your fingers over his half hard girth, he makes a face, turning his head and shoving it into the sheets. he makes a noise of protest as you tease his tip with the pad of your thumb. he’s sensitive, yet leaking. he’s hardening under your touch and you feel absolutely mean as you take your hand away. you lean over him, caging him under your frame.

you thrust into him, watching how his face scrunches up in pleasure. his legs around your waist, hooked by his ankles. his arms above his head, clinging to the pillow and sheets. he looks beautiful, fucked out with his head wet and a mess. you hoist yourself up in one arm bringing the on you freed up and placing your hand on his neck. he takes a sharp breath, knowing damn well your intention. the simple fact your hand is on his neck is enough for him to cum on the spot— but he doesn’t.

he brings a hand down and puts it behind your head. he brings you down, kissing you. your fingers twitch before pressing down to choke him slightly. it’s so good, heesung whimpers into your mouth. he pants as your hips stutter.

when you spill inside him again, he cums. his eyes roll back and his mouth falls open. you grip his throat, still moving your hips as you come down from your high.

“ugh,” he gasps when you let go of his neck. “idiot.”

“me?” you laugh, brushing aside his wet bangs. “what did i do.”

heesung says nothing, looking away.

“that’s what i thought.” you argue playfully and kiss his nose.

you pull out and start to clean up. it’s a lazy effort but you focus more on heesung. you take some wipes from the desk and clean him up. by the time your in the bed again, hugging him from behind, he comments on how he wants you inside. you comply, never finding it in your to deny him. you’re sensitive and make a small noise as you push inside him.

“wanna watch a movie?” heesung asks as he snuggles back into you.

you caress his hip, staring at the phone. “we’re going to fall asleep.”

he shrugs, “and? it’ll be the best sleep we’ve had in a while for sure.”

you smile, pressing a kiss into his shoulder. “okay baby, whatever you want.”

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angelscovee · 4 months ago

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𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ☞︎ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴘᴀɪɢᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴘᴀɪɢᴇ sᴇᴇs ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ʟɪɴᴇs 🤷‍♀️

⇝ ᴘᴀɪɢᴇ ʙᴜᴇᴄᴋᴇʀs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⇝ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

⇝ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

ꜰɪʀsᴛ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ ᴘᴏᴠ

today paige and i had stayed home babysitting for paiges aunt. she has a baby girl of five months, and a little girl that is 4 years old.

i mostly have been taking care of the five month old since both paige and i agreed that i am better at caring for babies than she is.

as i carry the baby girl on my hip as i make her a bottle, and i made some mac and cheese for the other little one. swaying the baby back and forth, unbeknownst to me, paige had been watching me the whole time.

she was playing "tea party" with her younger cousin but was more interested in watching me, then playing a game.

i handed the baby her bottle to hold it while i brought the mac and cheese to the slightly older girl. i sat down next to paige on the couch as i started to help feed the baby girl.

once they were both done eating i lead them to their rooms so they could take a much needed nap.

i could feel paiges eyes on me the whole time i moved around the house no matter how hard i tried to ignore it. she was staring deep into my soul at this point.

i sat down next to her once again on the couch as i was a few minutes before.

i turn my head towards her with a shy smile and furrowed eye brows. "why are you looking at me like that paige?" i ask my smile growing wider.

"you're really pretty, and i was just thinking." she says as she shrugs her shoulders, which made me smile and a slight blush crept onto my face.

"oh yeah? what're you thinking about?" i ask not taking my eyes off of her once.

"our future together." she says simply not elaborating at all.

"yeah? what do you have in mind?" i ask once again curious where this is going. paige turns her head towards me again and smiles before speaking.

"you're gonna be an amazing mother one day, i know it. the mother of our children." paige answers my question taking my hand into hers and leaning in for a soft but meaningful kiss.

"i can't wait to see you teach our kids basketball." i respond knowing thats exactly what she would do once we have kids.

"oh they're gonna be unstoppable." paige responds to me as she fidgets with the rings on my hand.

"oh i bet, maybe they'll be better than you, they'll even beat you in a 1v1." i say lightheartedly.

"me? psh oh never." she says in a joking matter. i'm so lucky to be able to say that paige is the woman i'll gladly spend the rest of my life with.

after that we go silent

all i can think about is her, the mother of our children, the grandma to our grandchildren, and most importantly, my future wife.

paige wrapped an arm around my shoulder as i leaned into her touch, she placed a soft kiss on my forehead as she put on a movie.

but i couldn't help but think about one thing only.

our future together.

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merchelsea · 1 year ago

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took care of your girl - max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen + fem! driver!(charles' gf) reader

summary: charles is too busy celebrating his P2 to care about your home dnf, but max is not.

author's note: this is my first time writing for tumblr and im so excited!! i cant believe i actually came up with is.

word count: 4k+

PART TWO

"ugh, you're so boring." charles sighed.

he had been trying to convince you to go celebrate his p2 with him for the last five minutes, but you were just not in the mood for a party.

i mean, this was monza. ferrari's and alfa romeo's home race, but your home race too. you had big expectations for this one.

of course you didn't mind ending up 6th, like you thought you would 4 laps before the end. you just wanted to cross the line. but you didn't.

at lap 50, you collided with sargeant, who was trying to overtake. the williams got to the end, and you didn't. you thought it was so unfair, but there was nothing you could do.

you had done an amazing race, managing to go from 15th to 6th. it was more than enough after a terrible qualifying, and you couldn't understand how someone took that from you in a heartbeat.

you were so angry. all you wanted to do was cry. but you still got out there with your best smile and watched the drivers getting to the podium.

first one to get up there was lando, who once again did a great race for mclaren, ending up 3rd after an 8th in qualifying. he was a great driver and everyone could see it.

then they called charles. the man in ferrari red stepped into the 2nd place with the brightest smile. he was really happy, and so were you. you were happy for him, genuinely.

you smiled and applauded just like everyone. you were so proud of your boyfriend. of how he managed to get that thing they call a car from 13th to 2nd.

the tifosi were out of their minds proud, and so were you.

in that moment, just for that one tiny amount of time, all you felt was happiness.

and then they called max verstappen. you sighed and applauded when the men got to his place. your smile never fading, but growing wider. you were beyond proud, more than what words could ever achieve to show. so you just stood there applauding.

you knew it was boring to see the same person win race after race, always getting to step on that ridiculous number one. but he deserved it, and you were delighted to be able to see his dreams coming true. because he was talented, that’s something no one could deny, but he worked his ass off.

you didn't get to watch them celebrate tho. because, unfortunately, someone called you in the garage.

lewis was already there when you arrived, and he was the first to talk to you.

"hey listen, i'm sorry for what happened. you deseved that 6th." he pat on your shoulder and you smiled, thankful.

"it was a great race, just a bad outcome." you sighed after hugging him casually like you always did after a race. "you nailed it today, congrats!" he thanked you and toto arrived, wanting to talk to both his drivers.

"you were absolutely amazing out there today. every person in this team is very proud." he smiled. "of both of you." his eyes fell on you when he said that. he knew you well, and he could tell you blamed yourself for what happened, even if you didn't show. "the incident with the williams was a shame, but you two fought like hell. i am proud of you."

you faked a smile and thanked toto. his words were comforting but they didn't do much. you were still upset.

that's why the first thing you did when you were free was lock yourself in your driver room. letting your body fall into the couch you reached for your phone to focus your mind on something that was not the race.

but after a little, you heard someone knocking in your door.

"mon amour? it's me. can i come in?" you got up and unlocked the door, facing your smiley boyfriend. he greeted you with a wholehearted kiss, showing you how happy he was for his race.

"hey baby." you smiled to him. "you did so good today, i am the proudest girlfriend in the world." you whispered into the tight hug you pulled him to.

"thank you!" he said simply, not even acknowledging your race. you weren't surprised because he never did, but it was your home race. and somehow you thought that changed something. "so, does the proudest girlfriend in the world want to come and celebrate with her man?"

and that is just how you got into this 'fight'.

"i'm not boring. you know that i would go any other day." you tried to explain yourself. it was kind of embarrassing, having to explain that to the person who's supposed to love you and understand you. "i just dnf'ed, charles. in my home country. after a freaking perfect race. that´s not easy."

"aren´t you happy for me?" he asked, looking at you with a fake sad expression.

"of course i am. you know i am." how could you not be? the monegasque deserved this more than anything.

"then come. why don't you make an effort for me? you know how important this is. and i want you to be by my side." he begged.

he didn't understand you. god, he didn't even try to. he was the one who wasn't making an effort here. he never made, and that's what you've been realizing for quite sometime.

"i'm sorry charles. but not today. you go and enjoy for me." his fake expression suddenly faded to give room to a frown.

"fine." he sighed and left, slamming the door on his way out.

you stood in the drivers room, this time not trying to avoid any thoughts. in fact, you were analyzing the race. from the start to the moment you went out.

all of your overtakes were perfect, not once colliding with other cars. you knew that because you were in the car, but you were looking for something to blame, some other touch that could've damaged the car slightly. but you never found it.

so you cried. you cried looking at the roof of the room. you cried your heart out because you were this close to proving people wrong, you were this close to making your people proud.

you cried until you heard another knock on the door, this time around being the last mechanics in the garage, telling you they would go for dinner and would come back later, leaving you alone for sometime.

when they left, you went to take a look at the car. and observing it, you realized what went wrong. but instead of putting your mind to rest, you started to think about what you could've done to prevent it.

"what are you doing here?" you heard a familiar voice, and turned to face its owner. the dutch was looking down at you, who cried with her head between her knees, in front of her racing car.

max had changed into his normal people clothes, whilst you still wore your racing suit.

"it's my team's garage. what are you doing here?" you asked, highlighting the 'you'.

"i was on my way and saw you here. what happened? why are you here on your own?" he asked. genuine preoccupation in his eyes. you could recognize any expression of his. any and every.

"nothing happened. i just wanted to be alone." you lied. straight up lied into his eyes. that was not something you were used to nor something you liked to do. but you did. and you knew he didn't buy it for a second.

"oh yeah. you decided you wanted to be alone, sitting against a wall, crying, for three hours after the race without showering and changing, just for fun? sounds like something i would do." max ironically said.

"look verstappen, i just wanted to be alone. and i still do, so if you could go away i would appreciate it." you said, getting up to walk to your room.

"don't call me verstappen." he says seriously. you never call him verstappen. "and i'm not leaving you alone after today. i know better than to do that." he follows you, leaning in the door frame when you are about to close the door in his face. "where is your so called boyfriend?"

your left eyebrow shot up as your head turned to look at him. his face remained serious, waiting for an answer.

"celebrating his podium. aren't you supposed to be celebrating your win?" you asked carefully, trying to get him to leave.

"maybe." he crosses his arms in his chest as you turn off your laptop and put it in your bag.

"then go." you said simply, collecting your stuff to go home. you wanted to stay there, but alone.

"not unless you're coming with me." he changes his position again to be more comfortable as you sighed, making him know you were getting tired. but that didn't change anything for him.

"leave, max." you said firmly, looking at him. he mimicked a 'no' with his mouth. "why?" you tried to get out of the room, but just as you passed through the door, the dutch caught your arm, making you look up to face him. your height difference was not too big, but it was still noticeable.

"because i know you, and leaving you alone after a dnf here, is a mistake i don't want to make." he let go of your arm, but you didn't move. "a mistake i'm not going to make." you stepped back, and proceeded to pick up your stuff. "go shower and get dressed, i'll get your stuff. if you are going home, i'm going with you."

"no. i don't want you to come." he laughed.

"care to guess who doesn't give a fuck, darling?"

"do not call me darling. and you are not coming, i wont let you in." you threatened, knowing you would never do such thing.

"then i hope you have money for a new door." he was determined, and you knew he was damn serious about not leaving you alone.

"i hate you." you laughed and as soon as the sound got to his ears his mouth formed a big bright smile. oh, what that laugh did to him. it was even better than winning races.

"if that means i get to come, i'm more than happy. now go shower." you did as he said, going straight to the bathroom.

once inside, you never thought about stuff like not giving the interviews you were supposed to, or how charles never once said he was proud of you.

the only thing you thought about was max, in your room, picking up your stuff so that you could go home with him. and the fact that it wasn't strange nor weird, it was fine.

from the beginning, you two had a special connection with each other. that's why you became best friends so easily, and also why you fell in love with him.

but he never showed reciprocity, so you thought it was a one way thing. god knows that if he had gave you one minimal sign, you would've never ended up with charles. the thing his, he didn't.

since your red bull day's, in his eyes you were just friends. or at least that's what you thought.

cause it turns out that the world champion is a way better liar than you could imagine. or you are just blind. because the signs were always there, you just doubted yourself enough to be oblivious to them.

it was the little things. like you being the first person he talked to after every freaking race. or how he was always in his best mood for you, but only for you. how he always said he was proud of you after a race, it didn't matter if you ended up first or last. he always came to you, hugged you tight and whispered "you were amazing, i'm so proud of you".

that's the kind of thing you noticed but never payed attention to. and that's exactly why you are with charles now. because he, on the other hand, was direct and shoot his shot.

he didn't love you and you didn't love him, but you felt good with each other, and it was nice having someone. you both knew it from the start, even if you denied with every thing in yourselves. it was just so obvious now.

you got out of the bathroom with hair still wet, but already dressed in your black sweat pants and your light pink top. max had picked every single thing, leaving your room exactly how you found him.

"let's go?" he asked, after a couple of seconds observing and admiring you.

you nodded in response and tossed your car keys to him.

"you drive, i sing." he picked them and laughed.

"deal." you made your way to your, brand new, white mercedes in a comfortable silence. but when you closed the doors, he broke it. "i don't want you blaming yourself, williams got a 10 second penalty for a reason. you were amazing, i'm so proud of you."

"you always say that." you smiled, looking at him.

"because it's true. i am proud of you."

"i know, and i am proud of you too. it's just that you always say the exact same thing." you noticed. max was sure you never took note of his words, but he didn't know how much they meant to you.

"i guess it became kind of our thing now." with now, he meant the past 3 years. you just nodded and smiled, searching through your phone for a good song.

"hey max?" you called, still unsure if you should mention it. he muttered something you didn't understand due to being focused on your words. "you know you don't have to do this, right?"

"do what, y/n?" he asked, fully focused on the car as he started driving.

"care because he didn't." straight to the point, we can see some improvements.

"omg, you can be so dumb sometimes." he talked, out loud, to himself. you didn't understand, so he might just be right. which is something you'll never say.

"huh?" you muttered, confused. he was indeed right.

"i care. i always do. i would have cared even if he had some decency in that shitty brain of his and had, at least, taken you home. do you actually believed i would have to go through the mercedes garage to get to my car?" he laughed, your face full of confusion, reflecting what was happening inside of your mind. "i was looking for you. i thought charles had took you home, or out, but i had this little thing inside of me telling me to check."

"oh yeah, that was me sending you telepathic messages." you joked. "thank you for coming, max. this is just a very important day for charles."

"whatever helps you sleep at night, y/n. and i would always come, any day and anytime." max took his eyes off the road to face you.

"are you saying racing is not important for him?" you focused on the first sentence.

"i'm saying he would do this on a regular tuesday. and i'm saying i would come after winning at zandvoort if you were needed me." he sighed. "you should stop lying to yourself." now was your turn to sigh. just as he layed his eyes on the road, your right hand went through your hair.

frustration, anger, sadness, loneliness.

"i'm not lying to myself, you don't know him like i do."

"i may not, but i know you. better than he ever will. you don't love him, and i bet my career you never even managed to lie to him about it." ding ding ding, max verstappen, the mr. knows it all was right once again. you are mad at him for knowing you so damn well.

"if i didn't, then why would i be with him?" you tried again. fooling max was getting more difficult by the day.

"we both know why." he said to your eyes, turning his head when he was done talking. damn, max.

the rest of the ride was completely silent, you wanted to say something but you couldn't. you simply could not. you couldn't even put on some music to relieve the tension.

all those questions coming to your head like gun shots "does he really know?" "why didn't he say something?" "does he see me the way i saw him? the way i still see him." every single one of them wounding you, creating a whole you couldn't close.

he was silent as well, his mind a little quieter than yours. that had been stressing his mind ever since you told him about charles, and now he couldn't keep it in.

not when the girl he loved was left alone by her boyfriend for a fucking party. he would've never do such thing, max would've been by her side, letting her know how proud he was, how loved she was.

the dutch was so angry, it took him everything to stay silent in that ride. but he did it, because it wasn't your fault. he was mad at charles, for not being a good enough boyfriend. he was infuriated because the monegasque couldn't make you happy. he was out of his mind because the greened eye ferrari driver took the place in your life that he wanted. that, in his head and heart, was supposed to be his.

the first glimpse of voice came from his mouth, when you were already in your apartment. monza was the only racing place you had somewhere to call home.

"come here." he opened his arms, when you looked at him. you expected him to talk, you wanted him to talk, but that was the only thing max said. the only thing he wanted in that moment was to feel you close, feel like he was protecting you from every bad thing.

of course you went, you would always go. his armes embraced you almost immediately and you closed your eyes, trying desperately to feel him closer. you could try to deny it but you missed him more than anything.

"i'm sorry." you apologized. none of you knew what you were talking about, yet at the same time, you both knew exactly what you meant.

max didn't respond, not with an "it's okay" nor a "not your fault". he simply kissed the top of your head while stroking your hair, and you knew it was okay. everything was fine between you two.

maybe not fine, but they were okay for now.

"break up with him." he half advised you half asked you. everyone knew that was the right thing to do, but he wanted you to do it for other reasons too, not just because it was right.

you chuckled into his chest, causing him to push a little just to face you.

"you talk like it's easy." he stepped back, separating the two bodies completely.

"breakups aren't easy, but yours, particularly, is. it's as simple as it sounds." he went back to the serious features.

"it's still a break-up."

"breakups only hurt when you love each other. do you love him?" you stood silent as he stepped closer. you watched as he brought his hand to your chin, caressing him once there's contact. "tell me. do you love him?"

"i don't." you let out as a sigh. instead of smiling, like you expected, max's face did the exact opposite.

"then why are you with him?" he asked in a low, tired voice. he was trying to find an explanation where he was not in the middle. he wanted to know that he was not involved in the why you weren't happy.

max knew, deep down, that you felt something for him. he always had that feeling. but, in his defense, you didn't make it easy for him. hiding it, locking the feelings in a deep part of your yourself, where no one could find them. bringing up some made-up-boy whenever you felt like you where being to obvious, constantly telling him he was like a big brother you could talk about that sort of thing. you had covered up the truth pretty damn well.

but even with all of that, he knew. something in him just knew. and all he could think about now was how he could've changed something, how you wouldn't be with someone who didn't deserve you if he had just done something.

he had tons of opportunities to ask you out on a date, or tell you how he really felt. it was just hard to believe you would feel something for him sometimes, so he waited for you. he waited until it was too late.

"i like him." you lied again. it was the second time you lied straight into his eyes in such a little time. that pissed him off. you should never feel the need to lie to him.

"bullshit. we both know that you're with him because i never risked losing you for how i felt. i never got to shoot my shot, and he did. that's why you are with him."

you lowered your head, both hands going to your face immediately. you felt like crap.

"what do you expect me to say?" you asked, raising your voice. your eyes finally fell on his.

"i don't expect you to say anything. i just want you to cut this thing you two have going on." his gaze never left your face, not even when you weren't looking at him. "you don't deserve this. you deserve to be happy. to be treated right. you deserve to be loved right."

another sight and then silence filled the room. no one could say anything.

"just..." he started, leading your eyes to look for his. "do you still..?"

"yes, max" you shot automatically, your voice sounded like a cry, but that didn't matter.

he sighed, relieved. and then stepped closer again, pulling your body to his, in a hug. he let you cry against his shoulder, while he cried silently against yours.

you pulled away to look into his eyes, smiling silently. even being like this, you had just found out that this was no 'one way thing', he felt the same.

"stop smiling. i'm fighting over here not to kiss you." you laughed, that was the best thing you could've heard that day.

"don't." you searched for his hand, taking it into yours once you've found it.

"i would love to, believe me. but as much as i want this, you have to be fully single first." his eyes were so bright that you were sure they could glow in the dark. you always loved his eyes.

"i love you, max." you whispered with the biggest smile on your face.

"i love you too." he whispered back. your smile growing impossibly wider.

max kissed the top of your head before leaving your room. it was a bit past 4a.m. and you had just finished watching a rom-com movie you liked.

it's fascinating how you two fit so perfectly. it's like you've been handmade for each other.

of course that, on his way out, max had to find charles coming. because that's just your life.

the dutch and the monegasque spent a little of time just staring at each other.

"what are you... what did you do in there?" charles asked breaking the awful silence that had been installed. you could hear everything from the inside of the room due to the paper thin walls.

"i took care of your girl." you would pay to see charles’ face that moment. "not so yours anymore, i guess." max said with his most serious face. he definitely won the idgaf war.

"not so mine anymore? mate, what are you talking about?" his confusion was deeply amplified by the alcohol in his system.

"i don't know man, figure it out." the world champion responded and walked out.

he knew that the moment he walked out charles would enter that room and lay in the same bed you were. but he didn't mind, he trusted you fully. and on top of everything, he knew that no matter what, he was the one you loved.

so when he closed that door, he had a smile on his face, knowing damn well he would open her soon.

#max verstappen #max #verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #charles lecrelc #f1 x reader #formula 1 #mercedes driver #driver reader

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azlrse · 8 months ago

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➳ unintentionally (a boothill x gn!spouse!reader oneshot)

cw: major angst w/ open ending, reader has a bruise (unintentionally) from their ranger husband, accidental slap (also unintentional), established relationship, married au, lots of apologies and crying present here, ooc boothill (first time writing for him)

a/n: alright, as soon as i saw boothill for the first time, I was like "bet lemme write something for him". he's gonna be ooc cause 1. i didn't play the game yet (cries incompatible tablet) and 2. i am still learning the roots of this game's lore (and him once he's released) lol

!! fic contains sensitive topic, steer clear if this fic ain't your piece of cake !!

"darlin'?" a voice called out in the side of the storage room. "please come out, i-i didn't mean to hit you and im really sorry.." your husband called out for you softly to avoid scaring you further. his constant knocking and coercing you to come out lasted for 5 minutes, making you curl up further within the corner of the walls. "leave me alone.." you meekly spoke, voice still hoarse from your earlier cries as you held your bruised, swollen face.

his constant knocking just faded away as you sobbed, using your free hand to wipe away your snot and tears dripping from your face. if you just steer clear from him and not pestering him because of his anger, you wouldn't be hit and to be screamed by boothil to just leave him alone. you knew that your husband is like a dynamite, ready to explode at any moment due to his occupation. boothill assures you that he will never lay a hand on you, even when the both of you are either arguing or disagreeing over something that's simple and stupid.

but this day, he broke that one promise that kept you safe since the day he asked you out. just because of his anger towards that one outlaw who's on the run for weeks. almost captured but alas, his luck ran out once again as the prisoner kept on taunting him that he will never be caught by him.

boothill, on the other side of the door, won't give up as he waits for you to open the door and letting him treat your bruised lip and swollen cheek. he knows that it's not an excuse for him to let out such anger towards his spouse. guilt kept on creeping through his system, hearing you sobbing telling him to just leave you alone. "im sorry, sugar.." he sadly spoke, reluctantly returning to the sleeping quarters that the both of you shared.

at around 4:30 am, he quietly opens the door of the storage room and looks around to see if you are sleeping soundly; tear stains on your face, a bruised and swollen cheek, and using a rolled towel as your pillow. his heart shattered what he has done to you and knew that he doesn't deserve your forgiveness. he feared that there will be a day that you would leave him all by himself, all because of how he acted towards his own emotions and anger.

boothil scooped you into his arms as your head leaned towards his warm body. he knew that you liked it when you huddled close towards his chest as he placed a chaste kiss on your head. placing you on the shared bed, he cleans your bruises and places an ice pack on the side of you. he stared at your sleeping face for sometime before he murmurs soft apologies to you, even promising that he will never do again.

the soft light from the curtains woke you up from your sleeping slumber after the ordeal last night. 'strange..' you thought to yourself as you saw the ceiling of the bedroom you shared with your husband, not the plain white ceiling from the storage room where you seek safety during your husband's anger episode. you placed a hand on your bruised cheek and felt a small gauze on top of it and a bit of cold from the ice pack he placed on the side of your face last night.

you tried to get off the bed but felt a robotic arm wrapped around your waist. "no, no..." boothill softly murmurs. "five more minutes sugar, needin' you here right now.." a wave of anxiousness just came rushing towards you as you saw your husband on the bed with you, snuggling as he finally woke up from his sleep; his cropped jacket is gone and only had a pair of short as his sleeping attire, his hair smells like newly lit cigarettes from his trip to the saloon yesterday.

if you aren't anxious, you would be flustered of his appearance.

"mornin' sugar.." he softly spoke as he leans in to give you a kiss. afraid, you quickly jumped off the bed and quickly make a beeline for the storage room once again. "w-wait!" his quick reflexes caught your arm. "don't leave me, let's talk it here my love. I know what I did is unacceptable and I'm really sorry for hitting you." Silence looms within the bedroom as you eyes avoided his. "Please.." He pleaded, his eyes soften as guilt crept on his back.

it's up to you to decide of you should stay for him or choosing your own peace...

a/n: not my best work but hopefully you guys liked my take on boothill (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)♡

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites. Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

#cw slight violence #cw angst #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr boothill #honkai star rail #hsr angst #boothill x reader #boothill #boothill x you #boothill angst

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slutforfictionalwomen · 1 month ago

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Gotta learn the consequences

Kinktober day 4

Natasha Romanoff x Fem Reader

Main kinks: Pain kink, breeding kink, daddy kink

Word count: 1,2K

Summary: Natasha is convinced that Reader broke a rule, which has its consequences.

Warnings: Smut, cum filled strap, daddy kink, pet names, manipulative Natasha, breeding kink, spanking, pain kink.

(Please tell me if I missed anything)

POV Reader

The mall is loud as I compare two bracelets, so I can ask Natasha to get me one. I don't have my own card after all, Natasha makes the money so it belongs to her. I depend on her money, so I belong to her as well. I choose the bracelet with red stones that has a black cat jewel on it and turn to ask Natasha, but she's nowhere in my view.

I anxiously pace around the store, bracelet in hand. I look for Natasha everywhere, but when I don't find her I decide that she has probably just gone to the toilet or in a fitting room. I wait patiently, but she doesn't come.

After about five minutes of aimlessly pacing around the store, waiting for Natasha to come get me, I see the red-haired woman walking up to me with a quick step. I happily walk up to her, but then I see the expression on her face. She's furious.

"You know you're supposed to stay close to me at the mall! I almost lost you! What, do you want me to put you on a leash next time?" She grabs me by the collar of my shirt, tugging me with her, aiming for the exit.

"I'm sorry, Natty. I didn't mean to. One minute, you were next to me, the other you were gone." I catch up to her fast pace, now walking next to her instead of behind.

Natasha doesn't look at me. She just keeps walking toward the car park. "You still broke the rules, now you're going to face the consequences."

"Natasha, please!" I whine when she half throws me onto the couch. I know I have been bad in her narrrative, but I really didn't intend to.

"You know why this needs to happen, baby. And you also know what to call me in this situation, that just earned you an extra five." She unties my shoes and carefully takes them off, still taking on a nurturing role. Next to be taken off are my black, wide jeans (which she picked out for me a week ago).

"I'm sorry, daddy." I wait until Natasha sits down and pats her lap. When she does, I lie down with my butt up facing her.

"Good girl, now count." Her flat hand strikes my ass cheek, and I yelp out.

"One," I whine. It's soon followed by another smack. "Two," there is a shiver in my voice.

"Seventeen!" I cry out. Tears are streaming down my face. Natasha has heavily picked up the strength in her strikes, making me struggle to keep still on her lap.

"You're such a good pet. Are you going to be obedient from now on? Am I teaching you a lesson?" Natasha strikes another time.

"Eightteen! Yes, daddy, I'll be better." The words leave my mouth in sobs. I wish she understood that I really didn't intend to leave her side, I actually didn't notice her wandering off.

The last two are done soon. Now her hands are rubbing my bottom with lotion, the aftercare she always uses. At first, it stung. I know it does, it always does, but it still makes me jump every time. After the first few rubs, I relax into her touch, like always. My eyes flutter shut, my head resting itself on the couch.

I groan when after a few minutes of massaging, her fingers venture down to my soaked pussy. "Oh baby, you're all wet and sticky. I think that means I'm gonna have to take care of you." Natasha's fingers start to rub my clit up and down firmly, knowing my body well enough to know that's only teasing me. I whimper and buck my hips once.

"Mhm! Please, daddy." I know what game she's playing, and I'm playing right into it. I sigh when the firm rubs turn into soft cirlcles.

"Please what, pretty girl?" She chuckles softly, keeping up the pattern on my bundle of nerves.

I squirm in frustration. "Please make me cum!" Suddenly, Natasha stops. I cry out, I'm way too needy to deal with this. Natasha stands up, lifting me up with her arms. She puts me back on the couch in the same position as mere seconds ago, but now without herself.

"When I come back, I want to have you all naked with that pretty red ass up." That's the last thing she says before walking away.

When Natasha comes back, I am indeed in the position she asked from me. She gets behind me on the couch, leaning over me to kiss my back.

"Good girl. Now, I will make you cum. But you will get loads of mine, and you will take it. You're gonna take it, and carry my baby, like the good little slut you are." I don't think I have ever heard her voice this dark before. I get a bit nervous, even though I know she can't get me pregnant. It also turns me on.

"You can take it without stretching, right?" I don't even have time to answer before she thrusts into me, making me yelp out. Her hips go at a quick pace, meeting mine. At this point, it's fast, but not hard.

"Are you gonna take it like a good girl? Are you gonna take my cum? Let me impregnate you?" Her hand ventures down to my breasts, her other hand on my hips. When she starts playing with my nipple, it makes me whimper softly. A shock of arousal travels down to my belly.

Suddenly, I'm being flipped around. She barely even pulls out of me and immediately starts pounding again. "We couldn't have the cum leaking out of your pussy, couldn't we?" Natasha forces one of my legs up, my thigh to my belly. Her hand starts to play with my clit, which has me bucking up to meet her thrusts.

I glance down to see the fake cock sliding in and out of me, a soft moan escapes my mouth. I feel my orgasm building.

"Oh, you like seeing that, little slut? I'll sure take a mental note of that." Natasha starts thrusting harder into me.

"Daddy, I'm gonna cum!" I cry out when it's almost too late.

"Cum for me." I hear the grin in her voice,she has something planned.

When I cum hard, a liquid shoots into me. It came so unexpectedly that it makes me scream. I buck my hips, but Natasha pushes them down, squeezing more artificial cum into my pussy.

When she pulls out, she immediately covers my pussy with her hand. "We can't have any of my cum running out, can we?"

Half an hour later, I'm in the bath. Natasha is rubbing soap all over my body, making sure that I get entirely clean. Of course, I love the way Natasha fucks me. The way she makes me scream. But I think I love the way she takes care of me even more.

#marvel #kinktober #wlw smut #fanfic #fanfiction #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut

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itsnevercasual · 5 months ago

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clarisse x reader where y/n had been noticing clarisse like getting distant( like not holding her hand for more then 4 seconds just small stuff that only y/n notices😭) and then the day percy breaks her spear she's mad and y/n trys calming her down but clarisse just yells at her about how clingy she is and to leave her alone and basically she regrets it and apologizes multiple times and after like a week y/n forgives her and it's cute (I NEEDDDD THE PLAYING HARD TO GET PLS I HATE WHEN SHE FORGIVES HER EASILY)

I Miss You, I'm Sorry

pairing: clarisse x apollo!reader

summary: clarisse is distant and cold, and y/n is officially done.

warnings: none?? i don't think?

you'd been with clarisse for around three years now. at first, a lot of people were confused. clarisse was, essentially, one big ball of anger, and you were a ball of sunshine. after a while, though, it made sense. you balanced each other out. plus, clarisse was a lot softer with you.

but recently, clarisse had been acting different. ever since percy jackson came to camp, actually. she was a lot more angry. and perhaps it was because you'd welcomed him to camp and generally tried to be nice to him. you couldn't help it, he reminded you of your brother, who had a mortal dad and stayed at home with your mom.

when you'd sneak to the ares table during meals, she'd hardly acknowledge you. when you tried to hold her hand, she'd let you, for all of six seconds. you weren't sure why. you hadn't done anything to personally anger her, had you?

you must have. because even as the two of you got ready for capture the flag, she ignored you.

"hey, claire?" you said, turning to her. you were just about the only one she let give her a nickname, and you'd settled on claire. "can you help me with my armor? i think it's crooked."

"you can do it yourself, i'm sure."

you frowned. she'd usually jump at the opportunity to help you- to touch you, to breathe the same air as you.

what did you do wrong?

you had one of your siblings fix it for you.

luke had outrun you with the flag when you heard a scream from the beach. you recognized it.

"clarisse!" you shouted, bolting towards the sound.

when you got there, you saw clarisse sitting before percy, her broken spear between them.

you ran to her side and helped her up as the other team began celebrating their win.

"claire, i am so sorry about your spear. we-- i can fix it! or i can have one of the athena kids do it! someone should know how, right? probably. yeah, we'll have them fix it, and it'll be-"

"can you just leave me alone?" clarisse snapped.

you froze. pulled your hands away, and retreated into yourself.

"oh," you said, clearing your throat.

"gods, you're just so clingy! i just need five minutes of peace."

"oh."

that's when she seemed to realize she hurt your feelings. she sighed, her face softening, "y/n-"

"i'm gonna go."

"i didn't mean it like that-"

"yeah. i'm sure you didn't."

you crossed your arms as you walked away, resisting the urge to cry.

DAY 1

during dinner that night, clarisse came up to the apollo table.

"y/n?" she asked.

you kept pushing the food around your plate, ignoring her.

"y/n." she repeated.

she sighed.

"i'm sorry, i didn't mean it-"

without saying anything, you stood up and walked off.

clarisse didn't follow.

DAY 2

you were sitting by the lake, your feet in the water. you heard someone come from behind, and you knew who it was.

you sighed.

“y/n..” she started.

“i’m not talking to you,” you stated. you crossed your arms and kicked your feet in the water.

“please, i’m sorry—“

“i don’t care. you really hurt my feelings, clarisse. you could’ve just told me you want space instead of acting like you hate me.”

“i don’t—“

“just go, clarisse.”

she sighed and didn’t fight you anymore.

DAY 5

clarisse had done what you asked for the past few days. she didn’t come up to you or try to apologize.

you were getting ready for bed, braiding your younger sister’s hair, when someone knocked on the cabin door.

assuming it was some late night check, you sighed.

“i’ll get it.”

you walked over to the door and opened it, and clarisse was standing there.

you didn’t even let her speak before you shut the door.

“who was that?” lee asked.

“no one,” you shrugged, sitting back on the bed and resuming the braids.

DAY 6

“why don’t you just talk to her?” percy asked you. you offered to help him train with the water as best as you could.

“because. i usually do, but she’s been rude to me for a few weeks now. i just wanna makes sure she knows i won’t put up with it.”

percy shrugged, “makes sense, i guess.”

even though you had a poker face around clarisse, it did make you sad every time you shut her down or pushed her away.

you just wanted your girlfriend back.

DAY 7

after dinner, you really just wanted to go to your cabin and sleep. however, when you opened the door, a bunch of candles were lit.

“what the—“

clarisse was standing next to your bed with a bouquet of flowers. they were your favorites— hibiscus. they didn’t grow anywhere near long island, so she must have gotten a demeter kid to get her some.

“i’m sorry, y/n. i shouldn’t have snapped at you. i just.. i’ve worked my whole life at camp to be recognized by my dad, and percy gets all this fame and glory in a few weeks. it’s not an excuse, but i just.. wanted to explain myself,” she said, extending the flowers toward you.

you kept your arms crossed.

“i want to be around you all the time. i didn’t mean to act like i don’t wanna be with you, because i do. i mean.. besides, who else is able to calm me down?”

and that made you laugh, “nobody,” you took the flowers. “thank you for the flowers. no one’s ever gotten me these.”

she shrugged, “i figured it was about time you got your favorite flowers.”

you smiled and quickly turned to her.

“so.. we’re good?”

“we’re good,” you nod and plant your lips on hers.

a/n: YAYAYAYAT FIRST CLARISSE IMAGINE / BLURB / DRABLE IDK THE CLASSIFICATION!!!!

#clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #heroes of olympus #x reader #apollo!reader

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wttcsms · 2 months ago

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if you feel like falling (catch me on the way down) | TWO

ᝰ.ᐟ after getting your heart broken by professional soccer player, rin itoshi, all because he loved the game more than you, you officially swear off all men — especially athletes. your publicist doesn’t get that memo, though, and you find yourself roped into a fake relationship with yoichi isagi, who isn’t just a pro soccer player, but also your ex’s rival. things could get messy. ( fem!reader )

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pairing yoichi isagi x reader (endgame), past! rin itoshi x reader word count 5.9k chapter synopsis the busier your schedule, the less time you can spend thinking about rin. the only problem is, you see something you can't unsee. nothing a bottle of tequila can't fix, right? (spoiler: tequila isn't fixing a broken heart) chapter contains partying and drinking to cope, diet culture author’s notes i have nothing to insightful to add rn, but send me any asks discussing this fic and i will have a lot to say LOL

From: [email protected] To: [USER EMAIL HIDDEN] Cc: [email protected], [email protected], [email protected], [email protected] + 3 others Subject: 6/19 — [NAME] [SURNAME] AGENDA Attachments: 📎 [6.19 AGENDA.pdf]

All —

Attached is the PDF copy of [Name]’s itinerary for today. Reminder that these times are STRICT. Stay on schedule.

Fumiko Gima

Get Outlook for IOS

Your first alarm goes off at 4:50 AM to what you assume is the noise they play on repeat in hell (By the Seaside, an Apple classic). After waking up, you roll over in your king size bed (the problem with always choosing to go big instead of just going home is the fact that when you’re all alone, the luxury of extra space just becomes empty space) to promptly hit the snooze button. You’ll allow yourself five more minutes of sleep (as a treat). When the second alarm you set up goes off at 4:53 AM (By the Seaside, once again), you scream into your pillow, and shut it off for real this time. You knew you weren’t going to give yourself the full five minutes, but it felt really good to trick yourself into believing that you would. You always start the day with this tiny disappointment; that way, no one has the privilege of being the first person to piss you off.

At 4:54 AM, you slide your feet into your Ugg slippers, readjust the loose straps of your silk camisole, and shuffle into your marble-floored bathroom. You rub the sleep from your eyes, brush your teeth with your pink electric toothbrush, and wash your face. By the time you’re done with your morning skincare, it’s 5:06 AM. You honestly can’t remember the last time you did your own makeup, but you bring your makeup bag with you anyway. If there’s downtime between shoots, you’ll post a faux-GRWM TikTok where you apply three miniscule dots of concealer on your seemingly already flawless skin and add a fresh layer of the brand new, limited edition Rhode peptide lip treatment that Hailey Bieber’s team gifted you. They also gave you twenty grand to do so, with a personal “hey girlie, would love to catch up with you one of these days!! life has been so hectic, sorry for not keeping in touch x btw, i just came out with a new shade of my…” text from Hailey herself. (You replied back with a “yessss, we need to meet up soon!! Also, LOVE LOVE LOVE the new shade omg 😍” — neither of you have any intention for planning a meet-up, and you don’t “LOVE LOVE LOVE” the new shade as much as you “LOVE LOVE LOVE” to deposit a fat check.)

You’re sliding into the backseat of the glossy black SUV parked in front of your driveway at 5:14 AM. Your chauffeur, Benji, holds open the door for you.

“Good morning, Ms. [Surname],” Benji never drops the formalities with you, except for when he’s lecturing you. Thank God he doesn’t own a smartphone; if he saw half the things Daily Mail wrote about you, his voice would be gone from scolding you so much. Even if he’s technically on your parents’ payroll and is paid to make sure you get to and from places safely, it still feels nice to have someone who cares about you enough to call you out on your shit.

The first stop is an exclusive, members-only pilates studio. If you’re home, you have to work out in the morning, no matter what. You like your routine. Out of all the things online magazines put out about you, it’s kind of embarrassing how the most accurate one is revealing how you stay “fit ‘n flawless even after going out every night.” Most people didn’t believe it. Rin got it, though. Rin would actually work out with you, when the two of your schedules aligned, and— Time to start your workout early! Nothing takes your mind off of matters more than focusing on the burn of your core and arms.

By the time you finish your private session, you’re walking out the studio with your puffy tote bag slung over your shoulders. Your body is still a bit damp from taking a quick shower but not drying off properly, and Benji drops you off at your first business stop of the day — ELLE Japan.

You smile brightly as the team of makeup artists surrounding you shower you with compliments. One of the girls brushing on your foundation tells you that you have really nice skin. When she goes in for a second layer, you almost consider rescinding the thanks you gave her.

The set is hectic, as expected. No matter how long these people have been in the industry, no matter how big the host is, something always seems to be going wrong. Apparently, there’s been a mishap over in wardrobe, and ELLE’s people are not very happy with how this is going to delay everything. With your hair and makeup done, there’s nothing for you to do besides sit down, be quiet, and look pretty.

Downtime is the last thing you want. You’re used to a busy schedule, but you convinced Fumiko to accept as many projects as possible. If you have to rank at the top of the list for celebrities who emit the most CO2, then so be it. You’ll pollute the whole damn planet if it means you won’t have a single second to be alone with your thoughts.

At 9:00 AM sharp, you go on your phone to inform your manager that the agenda is fucked. ELLE Japan is definitely going to push back this session with you for at least a good hour, which means Fumiko is going to have to explain to Your Style (the YouTube channel name for a famous fashion commentator who’s amassed nearly twenty million subscribers) why you’re going to be late for the Zoom debrief on what you two are going to talk about in an upcoming video. At 9:02 AM, you receive a text.

juli ᡣ𐭩: u know i love u

It’s two in the morning in Paris. When Juliette said she was going to visit her father, she said it was going to be a much-needed vacation — just something chill and lowkey, like going to all the designer stores and eating croissants on a balcony. Those were her exact words.

juli ᡣ𐭩: [photo attachment]

Somehow, from the neon strobe lights, bodies pressed against one another’s, and the way the image is blurry because she couldn’t get her phone to focus, it feels like Juliette’s “something chill and lowkey” morphed into club-hopping all over France. You roll your eyes with affection. You should’ve known her vacation was going to turn into this; as if Juliette would eat bread for pleasure — she’s been quoted for claiming that carbs are a necessary evil. She probably hasn’t even touched a croissant for the past week she’s been there.

juli ᡣ𐭩: showing u before TMZ posts it juli ᡣ𐭩: [video attachment] juli ᡣ𐭩: do not freak out. not worth it. juli ᡣ𐭩: ugh i knew this club sucked ass for a reason

You wait for the video to load. It’s almost as blurry and unfocused as the original image she sent, but you can tell she had to zoom in pretty hard to capture what she wanted. It’s two figures with a minimal amount of space between them. One of them is definitely a girl; she has the build of the usual French models. A thin, leggy brunette who has mastered the intricate art of Just Had Sex hair. Perfectly messy, but could never be considered sloppy. She’s wearing a sparkly, tight minidress. The fabric shimmers when the strobe lights pass by her body. The person she’s practically pressed up against is a man. Tall, lean. He’s leaning down, presumably so he can hear her better. When the video clip ends abruptly (someone bumped into Juliette, and the video ends with shaky footage and a loud “putain!”), you replay it. And replay it. And then you play it again, just for good measure.

Each time you watch the stupid video, you find something new to notice. Her red lips brushing against his ear. The way his hand hovers near her hip. The way you’re certain she’s smiling when she speaks, like the smirk of a victor. The exact same self-satisfied, smug grin you sport whenever you get a guy right where you want him. Upon every rewatch, though, one thing remains the same: you’re constantly fixated on him.

Right now, it’s two in the morning in Paris. You know that when you weren’t in this fucked up headspace you’re in right now, you’d be in bed, snuggled underneath your blankets, by 11:30 PM. You know that when you felt your best, you could be in bed, whispering in the dark to the person you felt safest with, at 10:00 PM (at the latest, because you both would have a busy day ahead and needed the rest). He likes sleeping early because he likes being well-rested.

So why the hell is Rin Itoshi at a club right now?

At 9:39 AM, ELLE Japan gets right back on track. Before your editorial shoot for a special anniversary edition of the magazine, they get you to sit down to do a video interview that they plan on posting all over their social media.

“This is a very special edition that will be coming out, and you are not only having the biggest spread dedicated to you, but you’re also going to be on the cover. Knowing this, how are you feeling right now, [Name]? This might be the most high-profile photoshoot you’ve done so far in your career, and that’s saying something. You have quite the impressive resume.”

The ring lights are shining directly in your eye. The stool they have you sitting on for this interview is uncomfortable, and you have to focus on remaining balanced. Your back is perfectly straight, and your hands are folded in your lap. You blink, and you see the video playing in your mind. You have God knows how much makeup caked on right now, and you still have a long day ahead of you. Rin is at a club right now. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl, and they’re basically grinding against each other, and he might just have forgotten all about you.

You smile brightly. At 9:40 AM in Japan, you let everyone know,

“I honestly think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been before in my life! This is a great way to establish a sort of, I guess, new era of my life and my career.”

You turn to face the camera directly, giving them a dazzling view of your pearly whites. “Not trying to rush the process or anything, but I am definitely looking forward to seeing how this will all play out in the future.”

You’re operating on autopilot for the rest of the day. The ELLE shoot wraps up close to noon. You forgo lunch, but knowing you and your tendency to skip meals, Benji refuses to start the car until you eat the lunch his wife packed for you. It’s light and refreshing — they want you to eat well, but they’re not cruel. Even if they want to bring you a feast of a nice, hot, home cooked meal, you’ll eat it out of obligation and then suffer the consequences on set when everyone asks why you’re so bloated. You don’t even taste what you’re consuming.

At 12:30 PM, you hop on the Zoom call and pretend to care about discussing matters such as the lack of personal style affecting the younger generations. Every topic is a trivial topic to you. The only thing worth dissecting is that damn video. You should’ve asked those twenty million subscribers to help you analyze that, instead of nodding along when the YouTuber starts going on a rant about how Shein and other fast fashion brands are ruining everything.

Late in the afternoon, you get another text.

kenyu: So the team wants to host a belated birthday party for me lmao. Team’s planning on having it at 10 tonight kenyu: Sending you the address right now

A party is exactly what you need right now. Endless drinks, no need for rational thinking, and you’ll be (mostly) surrounded by people who think models are all vain and vapid. No one there is going to expect a decent conversation from you, and with the state you’re in, it’s a wonder how all your sentences are even making sense.

You give Kenyu’s next message a like in response. You were expecting a club, but when you click on the address, Maps reveals that it’s residential. Rin is gallivanting around European nightclubs, and meanwhile, the best you can do are house parties. This is how the future is playing out?

At least even at your worst, people still think you’re on top of the world.

Maybe life without a man dragging you down and invading your space is for the best. After all, once you got done with all your professional obligations, it’s only eight at night. You’re used to going out with whatever makeup they did for you on set at your last shoot of the day, which is a shame. You have shelves full of makeup that’s been sent to you by different brands, and one of these nights, you plan on just messing around at your vanity.

You like living alone, you decide. You can leave all the lights on if you want, and no one complains about it hurting their eyes. You have full control of the thermostat. You don’t have to fight for counter space in the bathroom. Plus, no one can see how you’re living.

At 9:13 PM, you’re sprawled on the cool marble floor of your bathroom (squeaky clean thanks to the housekeeper you have come once a week), and instead of rewatching that dreadful video and subsequently crying, you had a quick retail therapy session. Your new Prada heels should be coming within the next two days.

You don’t get Benji to drive you. Nobody bats an eye at a rich girl having a driver, but it does seem kind of weird to have him drop you off at a party as if you're a tween girl getting taken to the mall. If the house is owned by one of Yukimiya’s teammates, surely it won’t be too awkward if you had to leave it there because you got too drunk to drive yourself back home?

Because — no offense to Yuki, you’re happy he’s getting another birthday celebration — the whole point of even going to this party is to get fucked up. You already know that Juliette had a point — if not TMZ, then at least Daily Mail will be all over Rin and that girl in the club. If that gets leaked, then you might as well have your own headline to combat his. Sure, lately you’ve been out partying, but that was with other models so it doesn’t raise too many eyebrows. Rin being caught at a club is basically him hard launching the breakup. You need to raise some speculation on your side of things, too.

you: can you get someone to pick up my car from this address tomorrow morning? you: please :)

When you see three dots appear, you smile for real. You can practically hear her sigh and see the shake of her head.

Fumiko Gima: Yes. Fumiko Gima: Be safe.

Aw, maybe your manager does have a heart. Right before you can send her a heart, she adds:

Fumiko Gima: Don’t stay out too late. You have your first shoot at 8 AM.

This is the message you give a heart reaction to. Maybe everything really is just business with her.

You suppose you can’t fault Fumiko for always seeming cold. She’s your manager, not your best friend.

In this industry, her honesty is refreshing. You normally find this to be the case, but you really feel it now when you step into the mansion and hear a cacophony of laughter swarming you from all sides. At every turn, there’s a celebrity with a drink in hand. Everyone’s leaning towards each other, as if they’re so captivated with the other’s words.

You see an actor leading a stumbling model up the spiral staircase. To your side, you see a baseball player chatting up the daughter of one of the baseball league’s board members. Upstairs, someone’s probably snorting a line off Yukimiya’s teammate’s bathroom counter. There are only three reasons why people in your social circle attend these parties: to get fucked, to get fucked up, or to make business deals. Considering the fact that you’ve been here for nearly five minutes and have yet to see a birthday cake — or the belated birthday boy himself — you’re pretty sure everyone here has lot the damn plot for the original celebration.

When you venture some more, you end up in the massive backyard. Some people are drunkenly making out in the pool, some people are watching them, and in a table in the corner, you spot a group of girls giggling and cheering as they all do shots. Perfect. This is exactly where you need to be.

One’s a model; you’ve seen her on a couple pages you flipped through in Harper’s Bazaar. You go up to the table and give her a bright smile.

“Hey, girl! Or should I say Miss Bazaar?” You greet her like how you think people would tease a friend. She’s not your friend; you don’t even know her name. You know she knows your name — everyone here does. And it’s because of the fact that everyone knows you that she lights up when she realizes you’re speaking to her.

A photo op with you guarantees that even if the headline coming out tomorrow is centered on you, she’ll still be in the frame. Daily Mail will add a caption naming everybody from left to right, and she’s planning on being the one captured right next to you.

“[Name]!” She squeals, giving you a quick side hug. “How have you been?”

All your friends, the grand total of exactly two people, know how you’ve been. You grin, pointing to the bottle of tequila they have on their table.

“After how this day has been, I honestly just need a shot.” You play it off like a joke, and as someone pours you one, you add, “Or maybe like five.” They all giggle before throwing back the tequila straight. They might think you’re joking, but this table full of strangers are the first people you’ve been honest with all day.

At 12:15 AM, they aren’t strangers anymore. In fact, you think they might be your best friends in the whole world. You don’t know the lyrics to the rap song blaring through the bass boosted speakers, but you’re laughing as you take another shot. The Harper’s Bazaar girl is doing another shot with you, but she has her phone in her other hand. She makes sure that the both of you are in the frame together, and a second later, she’s tagging you in an Instagram story you don’t bother to view. You’re not even following her.

“Okay, so out of all the guys here, who looks the most fuckable?” One of the girls leans on the table for support as she asks this question. You can’t help but notice how glittery her lipgloss is. Wow, even after all the shots she’s taken, there’s no transfer. Impressive. “I say Theo Sachs.”

“Who the fuck is Theo Sachs?” Harper’s Bazaar asks, and the whole entire table giggles. Honestly, at parties like these, laughing comes easy. In fact, you’re giggling right with them, even though you also have no fucking clue who Theo is. There’s just something so freeing in tequila-induced joy.

“Um, the host of this party?” Glittery Lipgloss says. “Oh my God, girl, he’s like, one of the players for Bastard.”

“The fuck is Bastard?” Another girl asks, adjusting her blue minidress.

“The soccer team!” Glittery Lipgloss is too drunk to be fed up, but you’re sure she would be rolling her eyes if she could.

“I didn’t know we had soccer players here. I only saw baseball players.” Blue Minidress frowns, before adding, “I would totally fuck one of the baseball boys, though. No preference whatsoever. Matter of fact, I could take the whole team.”

Harper’s Bazaar laughs. “What about you, [Name]? Who are you taking home tonight?”

Before you can think of something to say, Glittery Lipgloss groans. “Oh my God, she has a boyfriend.” She looks at you for confirmation. You don’t give her any, but thankfully Blue Minidress has her own insight to add to this conversation.

“So what the fuck does that have to do with her question? [Name], who are you taking home tonight?”

Nobody. Out of every party you’ve gone to this past month, you went back home, completely and utterly alone each and every time. It’s not even because nobody offered — they have — but because no matter how lonely you may get or feel, you don’t like strangers in your space. It took you three months of dating Rin to let him into the penthouse you were originally staying in, and that was with you being in love with him.

Once again, you’re saved from answering when someone behind you goes, “[Name]?”

You turn around, only to come face to face with Yoichi Isagi. On second thought, maybe this isn’t the rescue you thought it was. Drunk You can’t hold back your frown when you see him. He’s wearing a dark blue polo shirt and chinos. He looks perfectly business casual and could pass off as an off-the-clock investment banker instead of the world class athlete you’ve heard he is. Then you let out a little snort of laughter, which only makes him look more confused. You don’t want to tell him that it’s kind of funny how normal he looks.

Not in a bad way. You’re surrounded by models for practically the whole day. Looking unattainably hot or having ethereal beauty is the one non-negotiable job requirement. Even Rin, with his stupidly long lower lashes and impossibly high cheekbones and his pretty boy resting sulking face, is serving standards some male models can’t achieve. Isagi looks like the type of guy you would have a crush on if the two of you were completely normal and attended regular high school together.

But that’s not the reality you’re living in. Right now, you’re getting drunk with girls you don’t know, and every night, you’re making headlines. He’s a professional athlete that everyone at this table would gladly fuck just for a chance to be declared social media’s favorite WAG of the Week. The both of you could have your pick of anyone at this party, but you refuse to let anyone in, and you think Isagi might be one of those intense athletes who only care about their sport.

If that’s the case, he’s doing every girl a favor by not pretending he can commit to anything but soccer. You know someone who could use a few pointers.

“Hi,” you mumble, and then you want to slap yourself because why the fuck are you acting like you’re nervous? But for some reason, you feel like you're a kid caught with their grimy hand in the cookie jar, like you’re doing something wrong.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Well, it’s Kenny’s birthday party. Of course, I’d be here.” You cross your arms against your chest, feeling like you have something to prove. Before Yukimiya became his teammate, Kenyu was your friend first. Like, real friend, not just someone you leave supportive comments on their Instagram post type of friend.

Isagi actually smiles when he hears that. “Funny. I think everyone but Yukimiya actually wants to be here.”

You sober up a bit when you hear that. “Yeah, I couldn’t find him anywhere.” Not that you looked very hard. The minute you found this table of girls, you didn’t bother exploring the rest of the mansion.

“He was upstairs with some of the guys. You know that he, uh, doesn’t really like these types of parties.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You don’t seem like the type to like these parties either.” If he was anyone else, you’d be saying this to flirt. You’re honestly not sure what your intention behind this comment was, either. You’re too drunk to decide if you wanted it to be an insult (some way to defend Yukimiya’s behavior?) or just you trying to make conversation for once (you’re not normally one for small talk).

“Caught me.” Isagi smiles easily. From now and thinking back to Yukimiya’s birthday lunch, Isagi is rarely not smiling. You wonder if he means it. Surrounded by people who only let you drink with them because being seen with you elevates their own status, you decide that the answer to that is a probably not. “I was about to head out before I thought I saw you, and I wanted to come by and…” For a second, he pauses to choose the right words to say. “Just wanted to see if it really was you.”

“Well, you saw me. Guess your business is done here.” Then you swiftly turn your back to him, as if to abruptly end the conversation. Instead, you’re drunker than you realize, and your heel ends up being wedged deeper into the grass than you expected, and you lose your balance. You think you might fall, which would be so embarrassing, but maybe not as embarrassing as what actually ends up happening.

What actually ends up happening is that Isagi is quick to wrap his arm around your abdomen, pulling you close to him as he attempts to keep you steady and upright. The girls looked shocked, but then they burst into another round of giggles, and since you’re not joining in the laughter, all you can think about is how annoying they are. You squirm around in his grasp, ignoring the whiff of fresh laundry you get from being all up in his personal space (not by choice!!!; he’s the one that pulled you in, after all!), and he releases you.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks you. It’s hard to glare at him when he looks so genuinely concerned.

“Never better.”

“Do you have a ride home?”

What does it matter to you? Is what you want to say.

“I’ll call an Uber.” You lie, hoping that this will end the conversation once and for all. Seriously, Isagi just killed the whole vibe of the party for you. You want to go back to drinking.

“But I thought you didn’t do Ubers.” When Isagi calls you out on your bullshit, you soften momentarily. You almost forgot that he heard about your weird thing of having strangers know your home address. Then, you go back to giving him the cold shoulder. Sometimes, it’s a warm and gooey feeling to be known. Right now, you want to drown your sorrows in tequila and be showered with fake affection by girls who probably don’t even like you sober. You didn’t come to this party to be known. You came here for revenge.

(You’re not going to acknowledge how drinking your sadness away isn’t necessarily showing up Rin, but for nearly an hour straight, you hadn’t thought about him, and that’s good enough.)

When you have no response to that (wit doesn’t come easy when you’re in the condition you’re in right now), Isagi looks at you imploringly.

“Let me take you home.”

You shake your head childishly, almost saying nuh-uh. “Just because you don’t like this party doesn’t mean I don’t like it. I’m staying right here.”

He finally frowns. “Fine. I’ll wait for you to finish up here, then I’ll take you home.”

“I’m with my friends right now. Leave me alone.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? Which friend is going to make sure you get home safely? Yukimiya already left early.” Despite the two of you not knowing what the other is thinking, you both give wry smiles about that statement for the same reason. The party is still going on strong, despite the guest of honor not wanting to show his face and leaving early.

“These are my best friends.” You gesture to the trio of girls you know nothing about, besides the fact that they can keep up with your drinking habits. They all smile at Isagi, who waves back before turning his attention back to you.

“Really?” He asks. “What’re their names again?”

No one has anything to say to that, especially you. When the silence gets too awkward, Isagi clears his throat and also puts his foot down.

“I’m taking you home, [Name].”

You look at the trio of strangers you just spent hours with. Harper’s Bazaar shrugs, and the other two look away. The sting of not knowing who they are, despite them obviously having enough notoriety to be invited, makes your “best friends” not your friends anymore. Whatever.

“Fine.” You grumble, following Isagi to his car.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Is what he asks you as he signals to make a turn. The clicking of the turn signal is the only thing that fills the silence in the car.

No.

Sometimes, it’s fun in the moment, but that’s only when you’re drunk enough to trick yourself into thinking you’re having a good time. You’re more like Yukimiya (and — gross — Isagi) than they know; the whole “It Girl dominates the party scene” vibe you’ve got going on… It’s just bullshit that your PR team mixes together to get people talking. The high of being adored by everyone in a room vanishes almost immediately the minute you go home and wash off your makeup. In the bright lights of your bathroom, you stare at the sad, lonely girl in the mirror. It’s too dark outside for you to see anything out the window, but you lean your head against the cool glass, and before you know it, you’re waking up…

To Isagi groping you?

You’re groggy and confused and trying to blink the sleepiness out of your eyes, but Yoichi Isagi is definitely all up on you. You’re shocked, honestly. He looks like such a sweet guy! No wonder he was so pushy in getting you home.

He’s holding you in some awkward side hug, and he’s patting down your waist, trying to slip his fingers through the fabric of your dress, and finally, because he must be a novice-level pervert who doesn’t know the first thing about female anatomy, you speak up.

“Gross! You can’t even feel up a girl properly! No wonder you take advantage of drunk, vulnerable girls!”

“Ah!” He jerks back, shocked that you’re awake. Serves the pervert right. He should be backing up. You took a month of kickboxing classes (your modeling agency thought it would be the next big thing, since all the Victoria Secret models kickbox — they were wrong). “I-I wasn’t feeling you up!”

“Then why were your hands all over me?”

“I was looking for your key! You were asleep, and you looked like you needed it, so I just carried you to your door, but it’s locked.”

Oh. Likely story. You’re not letting him off the hook just yet.

“Obviously my front door would be locked, dumbass. Who doesn’t lock their house?” You point to the perfectly trimmed hedges by your door. “Key’s in the bushes.”

Since you’re making no moves to get down on your knees and rifle through the bushes, Isagi sighs and does it himself. When he holds up the key, you nod in thanks, take it, and then proceed to unlock the door using your fingerprint.

He blinks. “What?”

“What?” You repeat back, innocently.

“You didn’t even need the key to unlock the door!”

“Yes, Isagi. Modern technology is something, isn’t it?” And because you feel kind of bad, you offer him the chance to wash up before driving back.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Isagi says from the kitchen sink. You’re sitting on a stool by the counter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s nothing bad.” He clarifies. “It’s just… Rin’s a pretty private person. We always wondered what his girlfriend must be like. Sorry.” He shuts off the faucet, dries his hands. “Ex-girlfriend, I guess.”

“How do you know that?” You’ve been racking your brain, wondering if Yuki spilled your secret accidentally. Or — even worse — Rin himself confirmed it. Rin never even told anyone explicitly that the two of you were dating, so it’s not plausible that he would go blab about the breakup.

“Well, I didn’t really know for sure until I drove you home that first time.” He admits. “I just thought you made a weird face when I mentioned Rin during lunch, and then you started acting funny afterwards. Just had a hunch, that’s all.”

Great. So, Isagi, who’s basically a stranger to you, could read you to filth. Is there anyone else that you haven’t been fooling? How embarrassing. Being perceived sucks.

You don’t say anything else. You can hear Isagi mumbling about something, and you make a half-hearted noise in reply, but you’re sleepy and drunk and coming to the realization that you can’t keep fooling everyone around for long. There’s no point in dancing around the topic of your breakup. It’s getting tiring, anyway.

It is pretty exhausting to be pining after someone who’s not coming back.

Because that’s why you’re trying so hard to keep the breakup a secret. Partly for pride, but mostly because… You’re hoping that after learning everything there is to know about you, Rin Itoshi wouldn’t go so far to cut you so deeply by leaving you. Right? He understood your level of loneliness like no one else, and he related to it. For the first time in both of your lives, the two of you suddenly found the right person to fill in all the empty spaces.

And then he left, and the emptiness just continues to grow in infinite amounts.

You groan as you move around, only to find that you’re moving on top of your bed. You’re tucked into your sheets, and your hair is splayed across your pillow. You turn your head and see a shadowy figure exiting out your bedroom door.

“You’re leaving, too?”

Your throat is dry, and the words come out small. You hate this feeling of hopelessness and vulnerability, and the figure pauses in his steps.

He hushes you gently. “You should go to sleep. You’ve had a long night.”

“Fine. Don’t stay. I don’t care.” You burrow yourself further into your blankets.

“Do you really want me to stay?”

At one in the morning, covered in the darkness of your bedroom, you turn every shadow into Rin Itoshi. You don’t know what you mumble in response, but you know that whatever you said, it’s directed towards him.

#yoichi isagi x reader #yoichi isagi x you #isagi x reader #one shot #fluff #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #rin itoshi x reader #smau #series: if you feel like falling

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roseglazedlens · 1 year ago

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⦑ THE FUCKING DEAD ⦒ 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥’𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ➠ series masterlist | ⏪prologue | 🔃boy’s route | ⏩part 4

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓┇𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑┇𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐅𝐈𝐂┇𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 JILL VALENTINE X AFAB GN! READER ADA WONG X AFAB GN! READER synopsis: You split ways with Leon and Carlos, choosing to accompany Jill and Ada to Glenn Arias' office. One of you is already infected... content: 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈, dubcon, threesome, zombie fucking, oral (reader & f! receiving), toys (vibrator + strap-on in one hole), squirting, fisting, knifeplay, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, latex kink, face sitting, cervix penetration, tonguefuck, hand & finger kink, nipple play, mating press (kinda), choking, body marking, body horror, slight objectification, body fluids, and pet names (kitty, darling). a/n: am gay thanks for cumming to my ted talk « 6 k words | general masterlist | ao3 | reblogs appreciated! »

The five of you parted ways—for better or worse. Is there a choice for you anyway? This is unanimous from everyone. So, you decide to follow the most logical choice: complete the mission as you are instructed, instead of seeking distractions with time you can’t afford to lose.

Leon and Carlos bid the three of you farewell, venturing underground to locate the source of a gas that may or may not be a distraction or an ambush. You, Jill, and Ada will continue upstairs to infiltrate Glenn Arias’ personal office, retrieving the concentrated sample with utmost priority, and regroup with the rest before Arias has a chance to discover his merchandise has gone missing.

The plan is perfect, what’s there to be worried about?

“Our intel says Arias’ office should be on the top floor. The coordinates are on your watch. Proceed with caution, everyone.” Rebecca calls out into your earpiece. Twisting your elbow, you glimpse at your watch. It blinks with your location in green, and destination in red, two floors above you.

“Copy.” You and Jill acknowledge Rebecca, but Ada ignores, simply hiking forward with her pistol leading the way.

“She must be fun at parties.” Jill snorts, following behind her.

This is the first time Jill talks after splitting up with the boys. And even then, she only ever converses with you, and never to Ada. They have almost nothing in common between them, besides their stubborn attitude that only butts at each other’s heads. If you aren’t around, there will only be an air of dead silence between the duo.

But these two are your friends, and you like them both for different reasons.

You recall a past memory between you. “She’s not usually like this outside of missions. We went to a bar one time, and Ada got me free drinks all night. Poor suckers, she swindled them all.”

“Just the two of you?”

“No, it was an afterparty. Rebecca was there. I think you had to stay back for work that day. Why?”

Your eyes meet Jill in confusion, and they quickly dart away. Jill clears her throat to speak again. “So you and Ada are close, huh?”

“I think so,” Jill’s face hints a bit of disappointment, but she tries to force her lips to upturn into a nonchalant smile. You don’t notice this and continue talking: “But not exactly. She saved me a few times, so I’m grateful for her. But I wouldn’t call us friends.”

“And that’s all?”

You wonder where all of this is coming from. Didn’t take her for the kind who enjoys bars and loud spaces anyway. Spending time with Jill is usually just the two of you watching TV, laughing at the over-the-top reality drama from the comfort of the couch, cuddling up right next to each other like a couple of platonic best friends. Before you can speak, you feel a presence in front of you, standing in your way. You pause quickly at the last minute, almost colliding into the figure. Ada. She only looks at Jill when she’s talking.

“You two lovebirds done? Stay alert.” Ada deadpans with no intention of being friendly and warming. “Don’t hold me down.”

“Take care of your shit and I’ll take care of mine.” There’s bitterness in Jill’s voice, and Ada ignores her because your watch is beeping. The green and red dots overlap each other. You’re here.

You put your game face on. You land yourself on the other side of the wooden door to Arias’ office, while Jill and Ada have their backs against the wall closest to the door knob. Ada signals, counting down from three, and then finally kicks down the door. The three of you rush in, guns aimed forward in order to take down any security patrolling the perimeters.

“Huh?” You raise an eyebrow. You lower your gun when realisation sets in that you are indeed in an empty room.

You recognise this dark wood flooring. It adorns proudly, and even more repetitively, throughout the mansion. This room is no different. The desk, cabinetry and shelves are crafted with the same sinister timber that weighs down Arias’ office. Rows of portraits from Arias’ ancestors stare down at you with hollow beady eyes. A tall window, slightly ajar, to let in the cold nocturne wind. No mould.

This room had been cared for—dusted, cleaned, and prepared. Papers spread across the table, fresh ink, even the nameplate is polished into a shimmer. Arias frequents here, either for work—or for other sorts of shady businesses.

Ada immediately gets to work, and she finds a painting with a secret hinge to the side. It opens into a safe with two rotary dials. The sample is so close now, so close to your reach.

“I’ll check for any other clues that may help us.” Jill declares, and she’s flipping through papers on the desk for any information she can send to Rebecca.

But your eyes are still fixed upon Ada with her back facing you. Not leaving her even for just a second. Ada might have saved you a few times, but the amount of times she betrayed you is far greater. A memory sticks out from a conversation in the saferoom when Leon pulls you aside:

“Be careful. Something is very wrong about this place. I don’t know what it is yet…” His words hold weight and sincerity as he speaks. “And about Ada… I don’t trust her. You shouldn’t too. Don’t make the same mistake as I did.” Then Leon loosens the grasp on your arm, and reluctantly lets go…

You refocus, keeping your eyes peeled on Ada, before noticing how beautiful her hands are. How they pinch the dial with ease and precision, almost gliding as she hears the very faint click inside the clockwork of the safe. Her nails are short, painted dearly with scarlet red polish, palms so silky that they almost glisten lightly under the moonlight. You didn’t know the hands of a mercenary can be so pretty, unlike yours, calloused and scabs healed over.

“Are you done watching me?” Ada is still listening to the safe, but she knows you’re looking.

“Huh? I wasn’t—” Your cheeks redden from being caught.

“You think I’m as dense as that rookie? I see you guys talking. Did Leon tell you to watch over me?” Oh. She must be talking about Leon’s warnings in the safe room.

“It… wasn’t about you.” You hesitate and fiddle with your thumb. You are not a great liar, not by far.

“Just tell me.”

Ada turns around to look at you now, telling of how much she knows you. And it’s definitely well enough to see through your lies like translucent paper. Your words tumble under pressure: “He’s just concerned. Told me to keep an eye out.”

Ada scoffs; she’s turning the dial a bit more aggressively this time. “Of course he did. Predictable. The rookie thinks I’m out to get him every single time.” There’s another sigh of exhaustion.

“Well, isn’t that what you did?”

“That’s besides the point. It’s his fault for getting in my way.” Ada clears her throat. “Rest assured, I’ve been compensated well for this job, so you’re safe.”

“For now. I’m not taking my eyes off you.”

“Didn’t take you for the kind to let others tell you what to do.”

You clamp your lips shut. She’s right, and you know it. Your brain racks within itself for a comeback to defend your integrity, and realising instead: Why are you trying so hard to prove yourself to Ada?

Ada is challenging you for sure. Or entertained by you. You can’t tell the difference with her teasing grin that could be either, or both. Are your eyes fooling you, or does Ada seem more... relaxed? Her demeanour is drastically different from when you were in the saferoom, or when you were speaking to Jill. If you didn't know better, you swear Ada actually enjoys your company, maybe even a little bit more than friends.

The safe beeps, signal flashes green, and the hinge loosens to an open. The two of you peek inside. There’s a gold bar. A stack of paper (letters?) bound by a delicate string. But beyond that, nothing.

You hear rustling in the background. Papers falling to the floor. You turn around to see Jill frozen.

“We got the safe open. Did you find anything?”

Jill’s eyes are far off, fixed upon a particular spot. You look towards the direction of her glance, and beyond the window, it overlooks the mansion’s luxurious home garden, overgrown with weeds and wilt. Behind that, a bench and what appears to be either a figure or the trick of a light. It’s too dark to tell.

“Jill.” Ada repeats, slightly raised eyebrows indicating suspicion. Jill returns from her far off location, and sees the two of you in front of her.

“You okay?” You ask, wanting to put your hand on her shoulder. She shrugs you off.

“I’m fine.” Jill’s fist is holding some paper, and she scrunches it to hide it in her back pocket. “Nothing useful. Just old accounts… and stuff. You know.” Ada is watching. Jill changes the topic fast.

“But look what I've found in the drawers.” Jill removes a box from inside the drawer and opens it. It contains a bunch of oddly shaped devices, attached by a belt or some sort.

“Are those what I think they are...?” You question, not quite sure what to make of it just yet.

“In every colour too.” Ada says. “Seems like a 'hobby' of Arias'.”

“Maybe Arias had been using this toy in this room.” Jill snickers, pulling one of them out by the belt, and the girth of the black shaft is thick and erected.

“Jill, stop playing with it.” Your face looks visually disturbed. “Oh my god, my pure and innocent mind...”

“Don't tell me you've never used one of these before?” Ada is grinning, as if you just asked a silly question.

“And you have?”

“Who hasn't?” Jill laughs too. Meanwhile, you are still standing, a look of confusion in your eyes. They look at you, and look between themselves, a synchronous 'oh' left their mouths at the same time. You are still confused.

“Don't worry about it. So what do you guys got there?”

You pick up the stack, and read aloud the first sheet that is addressed to someone.

Dear Sarah, The world had been too cruel to us, separating us from each other far too suddenly, far too soon. Our lives were only just beginning, and fate had to take you away from me. We should’ve had so much more time. And we will. Don’t worry, Sarah, all of this is only temporary. I took your wedding dress to the dry cleaners and safekept it for your return. I still remember how beautiful you looked in that dress walking down the aisle. Yours forever, Glenn

You bring the sheet back to read the next letter.

Dear Sarah, My research was successful. I did it, Sarah, I DID IT!! I can finally bring you home, my love. Didn’t we always said we wanted a child? You told me underneath the moonlight you want to name our daughter Renee. And now, we can finally have them. We can finally be together. Things are in order to make this happen. Me, you, and Renee, for eternity. I’m so excited I’ve painted Renee’s nursery in your favourite colour, green. So much work to do, I’ll write to you again soon, Sarah. You won’t have to wait any longer. Yours forever, Glenn

“Is this Arias’ wife? What do you mean ‘bringing her back’?” Your whole body shudders at the thought.

“She’s dead. One of the many innocents that died in the wedding.” Jill almost punches the wall. “It should’ve been him.”

“He’s trying to revive her? …And have children with the dead?”

“What kind of fucked up shit is he planning?” Jill is shocked, grossed, disgusted all at once on her face.

Meanwhile, Ada, calm and unreactive as ever, is rummaging through the safe again. “No sign of the sample—” Ada confirms, and she withdraws her hand holding a gold bar to transfer it into her gear’s pocket. “—another dead end.”

“Did you just steal something?” Jill is in disbelief.

“Mind your business.” Ada shoots back a glare at her.

“There’s something really fucked up going on in this mansion, and this is how you act? Have some sympathy for the dead, would ya?”

“It’s been dead for a while. Doesn’t matter what we do or what we say, they can’t hear it. All we can do is focus on the present.”

“Why you—” Jill stops midway, like she accidentally swallowed back her words down the wrong hole. Her head is throbbing, heart racing, body attacking her from all sides within. Her throat is closing up, and for a second, Jill can’t breathe. She falls; collapsing onto the table with a loud thump, barely supporting herself with her elbow. Jill coughs; there’s blood.

“Jill! Are you okay?” You cry out, running to her aid, your arm rounding across Jill’s shoulders. It feels cold. Dry. Like you’re touching the furless coat of a dead animal with no warmth left in them.

“I… nnh, I’m fine.” Her voice is straining, but there’s some breathing at least.

“Don’t be stubborn. The colour on your face is gone.” You dip your hand onto Jill’s forehead. The cold sensation fades, and now it’s warm to the touch again, burning like a fever. You question yourself whether the coldness before was an illusion. Bringing your arms around her, you reach to your earpiece. “I’m calling Rebecca.”

“No. Don’t.” She coughs even harder with her weight leaning against you; she’s turning frailer and frailer by the minute. “I’ll be fine. We need to s-stop Arias.”

That is when you hear a click, cold metallic surface pressing against the fabric of Jill’s back. The safety’s off.

“Ada?” Your voice escapes like a pleading squeal, a forced laugh through hopeful desperation that it’s all a prank, that Ada isn’t going to hurt and betray you, just like all the other times. “…What’s up with you?”

“Jill. Get off. Now.” Ada raises her volume to a stern demand, and this time, you know she’s definitely not joking. Jill ought to do as she says soon, or else both of you may catch the bullet with a press of Ada’s finger.

“Ada—” Your voice shrivels into a pitiful whisper. Betrayal again? After everything?

“Jill’s infected. Face it. Thought it was weird why you’re acting funny. The virus is in your body as we speak.” Ada points her gun at Jill.

“Wha—What’re you talking about?” Jill’s face turns white. She coughs once more, hard. There’s blood all over her hand and on the corner of her lips.

“Ada. We need to take her to the hospital now.”

“Does she look okay to you? I’m not going to save your ass again. So get out when I tell you to.” Ada’s finger is firm on the trigger. Determined.

Jill scoffs. “This again? So you’re working for Wesker? You’re trying to take us out one by one. It’s not gonna work.” With a weak grip, Jill grabs her pistol with her remaining energy to aim right back at Ada. Ada doesn’t shoot. She should’ve, but she can’t.

Ada’s guard is up again. “Believe what you want. If you’d like to die today, be my guest. I won’t hesitate to shoot.” She flicks her wrist, demanding you to move aside. “This is your last chance.”

“Ada, please listen! She wasn’t bit. We were together the entire time. You were there too, Ada! She can’t be infected. She can’t be—” You yell in distress, but your sentence trails off into a mumble.

“The gas. The gas has something to do with it.” Ada says.

“Won’t the two of us be sick too?” You say.

Ada’s eyes glare harshly against the two of you, but you can see her thinking, the cogwheels in her brain processing the facts, and her speculation wavers. There’s pity behind the cold blooded glint. Sympathy. Ada’s pistol lowers—

And that was the mistake that costs their lives. Jill turns, roundhouse kicking the pistol off Ada’s hand in her moment of vulnerability. The gun falls, crashing against the rug far from reach. Ada is already reacting, drawing her TMP out but Jill moves faster. Too steadfast. Too superhuman. She tackles Ada to the ground, hands steady against her neck.

Jill’s gaze is obscured by flames, something blinding and controlling from something within her veins and arteries. Despite looking directly at Ada, she can’t see, nor can she distinguish friend or foe. Her hand tightens around Ada’s windpipe, leaving her grasping for air.

You pull up your rifle in a panic frenzy, unloading your round onto Jill. But she does not flinch, does not even look your way. There’s a dent in her skin where your shots land, but there’s no blood. “Goddamit, what the fuck, Jill! What is wrong with you?”

But Jill can’t hear you. Only the crackle of flame and roar of wildfire burning and reverberating through her head. Echoing twice and thrice over. Ada is grunting soundless moans, still attempting at escape with how she continues to fumble for the TMP on her waist belt. Then, Jill steps on Ada’s hand with sheer force and unnatural strength, crushing the smooth palm with the sole of her feet, twisting it until all the delicate bones become unrecoverable. And all hope was lost again.

Jill sinks her teeth into Ada’s neck, not with much mercy either. There is a sound of flesh torn, a blood crying scream to taint the air. The blood velvet rug paints a deeper red and Jill releases. Ada flops to the floor, paralysed, but not deadly enough for a fatality. Her beautiful skin, once full of vigour and charm, stained red with her own blood, the veins around turning deeper purple thriving like tree roots across the earth.

You look at Jill—and she’s smiling. It’s not the slight curve of her lips you’re used to when you tell her that her haircut is nice. Or the reluctant embarrassed grin she has when you thank her for standing up for you. This was something else.

This was something from hell.

She’s no longer the Jill you know. ‘Jill’ turns around to meet you in the eye. You back away, rifle aiming forwards despite knowing it’s all fruitless. Your hands shudder from within, none of your shots will hit even if you try. But you had no choice. You have to try even if it’s fruitless. Then you aim at Jill directly on the head. It’s harder than it looks, killing your best friend, even if they are a zombie.

It misses and lands on her shoulder instead. There’s a notable grimace on Jill’s face as she flies to catch the bullet from within her shoulder. She flicks the bullet away and her grin spreads widely, and she chuckles a sinister giggle. “That hurts, you know…”

“Jill?” These BOWs aren’t supposed to speak. They should be monsters. This is your first time meeting one of these too, and you did not expect them to be one of your closest friends. You should be careful. If they can speak, do they have the intelligence to manipulate you too?

“What’s wrong, kitty?”

“Fuck you.” You grit your teeth. “I’m not turning into one of you.”

She merely laughs. “Admit it. You think this is hot.”

“Fuck off.” You have Jill’s eyes locked, other hand inching closer and closer to your back pocket, reaching for the radio. But it was no use. A hand—bloodied and broken—grabs you by your wrist, twisting it behind you forcefully. You wince. Ada is right behind you, her eyes looking into yours with the same blank stare Jill has. She’s turned. And so quick too?

“Our darling, can’t seem to stay put? I think it needs punishment.” Ada’s breath is blowing against your neck. You shiver.

“Oh… like what kind?” Jill’s eyebrows are raised and intrigued.

Jill answers the question herself by unsheathing her pocket knife. You swallow hard as she takes each purposeful step towards you, savouring in your fear. Your wrists struggle against Ada’s grip, which she responds by tightening it further that your bones are almost breaking from her touch.

“It’ll hurt more if you resist.” Jill drawls out her words, licking the surface of the knife. She brings her knife forward, laying the flat edge of the knife against your cheek, drawing a little blood at first, then a bit more droplets gather onto the knife. She slurps on it, licking the crimson nectar clean off her knife. “Just relax, kitty. It’s us. Jill and Ada. Your teammates.”

“We won’t hurt you, darling. You can trust us.”

For a moment, through the hazy blink of a spell, you see your friends. Ada, mysterious yet always saving you during trouble. Jill, indifferent yet is always the first to defend you. They’re absolutely right. These are your friends. They mean so much to you, and you’ve just realised that now. You’ll do anything for them.

You let your body relax, your eyes stare into Jill, then Ada, then back at Jill again. She caresses your cheeks in her palm, bringing your face closer to hers with lips that only want to close the distance, and you close your-

Wait! No. Stop this! This isn’t right!

-eyes, before your lips crash together in a series of tingles. Jill deepens the kiss, her tongue prying between the seams of your lips, meeting your own tongue in the middle. You still taste a bit of blood, but that doesn’t deter you from returning the kiss. Jill licks your lips once more before finally parting with a heaved gasp. You slowly open your eyes, before another pair of familiar lips comes colliding back on yours and you’re nudged to close them again. This is Ada’s lips, rounder, thicker, with an unexpected forwardness. She nibbles on your lips, demanding, making room between the gaps of your lips, and kiss you just as passionately as Jill did.

Between kisses, a button pops off. Then another. You help each other out of your fabrics. Earpieces removed, abandoned by the floor. Jill strips off Ada’s dress and bra, and you help Jill out of her skinny jeans. A paper scrunches up from her back pocket. It’s been torn by hand, scribbled a note on lined paper where the words are either smudged or peeled off. Only one word is still faintly visible.

[ WATER ]

What could it mean?

You spend no time to ponder with Jill pulling you back into the present. Your naked torsos flush against each other as the duo fight for another taste of your lips. They catch your breath, one after another, with no intention of letting you out of their sight. Jill brings her hand around you, her fingers are already sending-

I need to get out of here! I need to warn-

-a violent fizz through your body, and Ada helps you fall to your legs onto the velvet rug underneath you. All the whilst your lips are trapped in Jill’s, and so is your body.

“That’s it… Be our good little darling.” Ada slips right behind you, letting your relaxed body lean against her, then running a hand up your torso with the friction of her latex gloves, before settling against your neck in a firm grip.

“We’ll take care of you, kitty.” Jill whispers into your ear, and you can’t hear any malicious intent. Jill and Ada aren’t hurting you, some part of you is very sure about this.

Then you hear something. A faint sound in your mind, a warning, a scream from far away. It’s telling you to run, run so far and fast before it’s too late. “Nnh… I…” It rings in your ear like a constant drum, forcing you for a response. But why? You feel so good right now…

“Stay with us, darling.” Ada coos, moving downwards to kiss along the strip of your neck. She’s gentle, enchanting you in her lovingness. The voice grows fainter, like a distant chatter that fades into the background.

And their hands are all over you, exploring every curve your skin has to offer. The crook of your neck, the gentle folds between your belly, thighs filling out into their palms, plushness against plushness. With how both of their breasts lay against you, it reminds you of a marshmallow cloud, and you’re drifting away into it. Away from the mortal world where only the three of you remain.

Ada runs her hands down your body, her latex glove palming your cunt now, circling it fully and firmly. You feel everything move, your hips rutting to find more friction against your clit. And she retracts her hand, pressing down against your clit as if you hears your demands, holding you and your emotions hostage, before repeating all the motions again.

“Shh… We’ll take care of you, kitty.” Someone says this, you don’t know who. You are much too focused on the pleasure throbbing in your body to notice. Ada moves her head downwards to watch your cunt more closely, pleasant to see you already drenching, soon to succumb to the inflictions of her loving touches.

“Goodness, so wet for me, darling.” Ada rewards herself with a finger down the stripe of your cunt, scooping your juices with the latex and licking her finger clean. Ada is taking her time with you, pecking gentle kisses along the seam. A few times you feel the firm pad of her tongue on you, but she retracts it before you can truly react to it.

Jill is still kissing you; her hands are groping her own breasts to satisfy herself, while you lay limp under the command of the two. You moan back into the kiss, clearly aroused by Ada toying with your body underneath, and she grows increasingly jealous: “Having all the fun without me?” She abruptly parts your lips, and gently lowers your back onto the floor.

“Come on, kitty. Help me come too.” Jill pecks one final kiss on you, which you, too engrossed in the knot in your chest to struggle to even pucker your lips. She rounds her legs over your face, and your face is shaded with the shape of Jill’s cunt. Her arousal glistens in the darkness, seemingly twitch, maybe a bit vulnerable with how your eyes are fixed upon her aching parts.

“Put that tongue to good use, kitty.” Jill drops herself onto your face, fucking herself onto your nose. A moan escapes her lips, and yours too, your grunt muffled underneath the pressure, but she can still feel the vibrations through her cunt. She ruts against you, a signal for ‘more’, and you obey. You stick your tongue in, swirling and springing your tongue to feel Jill’s walls against the flat surface of your tongue.

Jill lifts herself temporarily, just enough for you to breathe and release the groaning mess that is trapped in the back of your throat. She slams herself back down onto you again. Your breath quickens, back arches in; you’re close. So fucking close. Ada isn’t stopping now, her lips are flushed against your cunt, extending her entire tongue inside of you to tonguefuck you until your heavy breathing is inside of Jill’s cunt.

“I.. nnh…fuck…” You cry, a tear gathering in your eye.

“Don’t be shy, kitty. Just let it all out.” Jill looks down at you, grinning, taunting. She drives her cunt deeper onto your face. And with her encouragement, you do. The sensation wells inside of you, stimulated on both end bringing your orgasm to escalate in speeds unimaginable. Your juices start to flow, without warning—you couldn’t control it even if you tried—and all your fluids spills directly onto Ada’s face, catching into her eyes.

“That’s it. Well done, kitty.” Jill praises, smoothing a hand over your hair.

Ada doesn’t wince from your juices in her eye, she doesn’t even feel the pain. Her irises are shifting red from her kind hazel brown. Her skin, paling, wherever she was applying pressure at you, those parts of her turns distinctly blue. And that’s when reality hits you: you don’t know them. But there’s no stopping now. It’s too late. At least you can make your death memorable—enjoyable—by getting fucked inside out.

Jill is feeling it too, her hips shaking, your tongue going into overtime eating her out, until she finally releases. She tries to lift herself off, but it was too late when Jill begins to squirt, her one finger guiding herself on her clit, drenching your face and some of your hair with her fluids. You wipe your face off with your hands, huffing and puffing. Whatever you two had, it was intense. Far more intense than any relationship you had with any other sex.

Ada lands right next to you on the rug. She’s reaching down to circle on her own clit and thrusting her fingers inside of her dripping mess at the same time. God, Ada looks so hot touching herself.

“Please. Ada. I want to taste you too.” You nudge Ada’s fingers out of herself, giving them a lick to clean those pretty, battered fingers off. Even damaged, her manicure is still perfect, and the skin still feels soft to the touch. You roll on top of Ada, exchanging places with Ada’s fingers to bottom her out.

Ada’s cunt is so smooth, cleaned and trimmed, just as put together as the rest of herself. Her hole is wide open, as if taunting you with how much she can take at one time. You hook her legs over your shoulder now, pressing them down closer to her body and reaching over to her swollen nipple to pull against it. When your fingers enter her, it’s like dipping your finger into melted butter. With one finger, it was loose. So you add one more finger, then another, until all four of your fingers are deep in her cunt.

“God, Ada.” You swallow back a heavy drool. “You’re all stretched out.”

“I have higher pain tolerance like this. That’s the best part about being a zombie.”

“Does that mean I can…” You thought four fingers was Ada’s limit, but after wiggling your hand around, you manage to slip the fifth finger inside. Ada lets out a delighted whine, swallowing your entire fist with a quick rut of her hips.

My god, Ada looks so beautiful like this. With how big she’s taking in, you swear that she’s more used to this than she’s letting on. But you don’t get to ponder long, because Jill is right behind you. She’s watching over you, grabbing your cheeks from behind and something is nudging between your thighs.

“I want to try something on you.” There is a belt around her, and a strap bouncing high and proud into the air. “Stick up your butt for me, kitty.”

The idea of getting fucked by Jill excites you very much. You perk them up, despite your eagerness, you don’t want to lose momentum with Ada in front of you, still squirming under your control. You expect your cunt to meet with Jill’s silicone tip, but instead she puts some kind of device inside of you. It vibrates in the lowest setting, only a tingle of sensation in your already aching and throbbing pussy.

“J-Jill?” You let out a low grunt, unsatisfied. The device is so small, you still feel empty even as it vibrates within you.

“Don’t worry, kitty. I’m just gonna write some thing on your body. It won’t hurt, I promise.” She picks up a knife, previously abandoned in the corner. She runs the sharp end of the knife along your ass cheeks, and you wince as Jill drags the knife down until it carves off a letter. ‘J’ on your left cheek, ‘A’ on your right cheek.

“Kitty looks amazing with our initials on it.” Blood is trailing along your butt. Jill lied. It hurts a lot. But the combination of pain on your skin and pleasure of the vibrator takes you to your wits end. Jill makes up for it by consoling the cuts, planting kisses and licking the blood off your cheeks. Then she grasps harshly onto the plush meat, and the pain is back again.

“Kitty…” She coos, fingering out some of your stickiness to lubricate the silicone. It lines up against you, ready for entry. You take in a deep breath, and Jill shoves all of her length in one go. Your body flinches, tongue stopping for a moment to recollect your composure as your internal walls fight to wrap both the vibrator and Jill’s strap at the same time, filling you up so fully.

“That’s it, kitty. Take in both me and the vibrator. Feel so good right now… So good for us.”

But she’s not stopping. Not intending to stop until you come over and over again, until you stain the rug with every bit of your juices. Moans ripple through the room. Each thrust heavy and welcoming to your pussy as you stretch wide to accommodate to this newfound size. You chase your euphoria, as it crash at you wave after wave of limitless pleasure. Jill tips you further into overstimulation, fucking the fluids of your orgasm back inside of you.

But you can’t speak, despite the desire to release your choked out breath, you are determined to make Ada come too. She’s close. You press her legs further down to flex her into a pretzel, her thighs touch her head, and your fist finds its easier to reach her cervix, abusing at her favourite spot over and over again until she’s bound to release her fluids onto your hand.

“You’re mine now…” Jill and Ada speaks almost simultaneously.

And the rest of the night was a blur. You aren’t sure how many times you came tonight, you only feel the aftermath of it. The inside of your walls are sore, penetrated repeatedly by tongue and silicone, and you find your consciousness fading… and fading… until you are gone completely.

A buzz. It rings in your ear like a fly in your sleep. Is this your alarm? No… Did you not leave for Arias’ mansion? How long ago was that? Why are you asleep? And where’s Jill and Ada?

You are alone. The portraits watching your naked body as you lie—criticising you? You hear the windows clacking against the hinges, night air whining inside and all over your bareness. But you don’t feel cold. Your body hasn’t felt anything in a while. Joints weakened everywhere and your lips feel like something dried over.

You hear the buzz again. This time much closer. There’s static. It’s saying something.

“Ji- Ad-”

You move your limbs, cumbersome from the soreness of your muscles, to reach to the sound underneath your clothes. An earpiece. You fumble it on.

“Jill! Ada! Are you guys there? Come on, why won’t this damn thing work?”

It’s Rebecca. You know this girl. From somewhere. It’s getting harder to think.

“Reb—” You try to talk, but it escapes like the low grumble of a zombie. You don’t have much time left.

“Finally! Thank god it’s you! Are you guys safe?”

“Water... It’s the water… The water’s infected…” You muster whatever bit of strength left to talk.

“Hello?? Shit. I can’t hear you… What did you say about the water?”

Your eyes feel heavy. It sinks without intention. All that remains is a fragile pulse at the hearth of your body. Not enough for you to move or think. Darkness envelops you, and there is silence once again in Arias’ office.

Then, a man steps into the room.

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. —yours truly, rose. kissing @scar-crossedlvrs and @obsolescent for beta reading this!!!! tags: @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted @daydreamrot @madcap-riflette @access--granted @obsolescent @briermelli @secretiveauthor @ghosty-frog @navstuffs @slowcryinginthedark @rentaldarling @lesbntired @redvleanli @vinsiliors @whoisgami @gaylorvader @wxwieeee @eddsthemunson © roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

#꒰✒️ rose fics ♡.꒱#jill valentine x reader #ada wong x reader #jill valentine #ada wong #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil x you #resident evil smut #kinktober 2023 #resident evil fanfic #resident evil vendetta #glenn ariasres #jill valentine x you #ada wong x you #smut #resident evil x y/n #resident evil

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madschiavelique · 1 year ago

Text

𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary : after the mission, all you can think about is Miguel, up to the point where you can't sleep because of all your thoughts. so you go to the strength and conditioning centre to try and exhaust yourself. but miguel pays you a visit there, and the training takes another turn...

content warnings : mentions of blood, (if there are any others please do tell so i can add them !), reader is obsessed, no use of y/n word count : 3,9k

note : this is dedicated to the beautiful @gollygothgal , with tension and hot miguel hehe. here's the 2nd part of the miguel 3shot thingy ! i hope you'll enjoy it. i am currently thinking about opening up requests for miguel, so if anyone has got a juicy idea they'd like to see written, don't hesitate to send it !! <33

chapters' list : 1 - lovebite 2 - late night training 3 - unexpected mission (nsfw) 4 - shameless (nsfw)

One punch.

He did it to help you, nothing more, there was nothing behind it, nothing unprofessional, nothing at all.

Two punches.

No, nothing, not even when you pulled on his hair and the moan in his throat vibrated into the bullet that was lodged in your flesh.

Three punches, the bag rocks.

Surely you're not the first person he's done this to, right? Dealing with this kind of wound in the middle of a mission must have been part of his daily routine after all.

Fourth punch, the impact spreads across the knuckles of your hand.

What if it wasn't? What if he'd deliberately decided to give you the special treatment of losing his time on the mission to take care of you?

Fifth blow, you were breathing hard. You stood back, your hands aching as they sponged your sweaty forehead with their backs.

It had only been a week since the last mission, and all you could think about was Miguel. Every five minutes the whole thing would start up in your head, sometimes so strongly that you felt it defined you. The spadassin of your logic kept chasing your imagination brazenly, it was trying to foam hollow ideas about him.

Was this scene really intimate? Or in your cruel lack of physical and sentimental affection had you simply imagined meanings for certain gestures that were pure delusion?

After the mission, while the anomalies were being properly stored, you went to the infirmary. There, you were asked questions that were still stuck in your head.

"What's that bite?" they asked about the two incisions Miguel had left in your skin, "and why is it all blue here? There's more ruptured blood than there should be..."

Apparently, the nurses had very rarely seen incisions of this kind on the bodies of other spider men or women, the only cases so far being on Miguel himself. The news had a strange effect on you. As for the clouds of bruises Miguel had left around the impact, the mere sight of them turned you into a red poppy.

So Miguel had never bitten anyone else on a mission to administer his painkiller... nope, let's not jump to conclusions!

Maybe gunshot wounds just weren't frequent on missions, haematomas or cuts were commonplace here.

After that, you were brought together with the others to report back. You hadn't been much help to the mission, apart from freeing Miguel from that foam. And after that? Too little contact and far too many thoughts.

The few times you saw Miguel, you only had time to say hello before he went about his business. The few words he'd say were "How's your wound?", and then he'd be off, busier than a minister.

And every day, as if you were watching the sky for a shooting star, you hoped. You hoped for a twinkle, a smile, just the possibility that your eyes might meet.

And every night, you would go over and over these tiny things that seemed gigantic in the eyes of your heart. And tonight, the same thing.

It was the hour when memories flood back, just when sleep goes on strike. You were trying to sleep, but you were tossing and turning, your mind replaying the whole scene like a power-point with multiple explanations attached to the images.

Just an focus, on the too pale clichés of a love story, on the state of mind of a woman without an alibi who dreams every night of a man whose existence you didn't even know existed until recently. Just a focus, for a little wink of survival, for all the fools, the love-sick, for all the victims of romanticism. Just a little wink, a focus.

You were tired of this perpetual propensity of your thoughts to redirect themselves to Miguel. There was nothing you could do, it was like trying to stop the sun from rising and setting. Because even with adamantine force, you can't stop the natural from happening.

You're more insignificant than the dust under his fingernails, you thought. Pull yourself together! Miguel has to look after a company of at least seven hundred people like you.

And it was true, Miguel had much better things to do than have anything other than a professional relationship with you.

You huffed and puffed in bed, sleep really not coming, so you put on your everyday clothes, prioritising comfort, and headed for the Strength and Conditioning centre.

If sleep didn't come, you'd wake it yourself. And so you found yourself boxing a sandbag. And honestly? It was harder than what you'd seen in the movies. Or at least, you felt some pain in your fingers as you punched, knowing full well that something was wrong, but not knowing what. The job of Spider Man wasn't new to you, but you had to admit that when it came to hand-to-hand combat, you missed some of the basics.

You glanced down at your hands, their knuckles reddened, and for a few seconds you remembered the ridiculously large size of Miguel's hand resting on your waist, then how it had felt when he had held your thigh in place, and you could have sworn that at that moment his claws had come out, sharper than a quarter of a strawberry.

If only it were possible for your mind to go on holiday, just to get away from the real Miguel City that had settled in your mind a little too quickly. You let out a grunt of frustration.

But your hair stood on end for a second - someone had just come into the room.

"What's wrong?"

You immediately turned your head towards the entrance, Miguel coming towards you. Your heart skipped a beat and you froze. For pity's sake, was this a dream?

The terrible thing about this mental affliction was that, although you visualised him more often than you should because you found that you spent less time with him, when the time came for you to interact as you would have dreamt of, the image of his red eyes went straight to the edge of your heart and you had the sudden feeling that you wanted to leave immediately.

If you come at any moment, I'll never know what time to dress my heart. Perhaps it was the extent of your desire that made you feel ashamed, and for fear that he would see it, hear it, feel it, you preferred to leave. But you stood your ground, giving yourself a mental slap in the face to pull yourself together as he came within a reasonable distance of you. There weren't enough moments with him, so you were going to make the most of them.

Your eyes widened slightly, because you'd never seen Miguel in normal clothes before. A hoodie with cut-off sleeves and loose jogging bottoms, simple and relaxed, but how could Miguel be relaxed? After all, he was Miguel.

He didn't look upset, which was a first. You were so used to seeing him frustrated, with that invariable weariness that accompanies him everywhere. On the other hand however, he was looking at you quizzically, and it was only then that you remembered that he had asked you a question.

"Oh, um," you said, resting the side of your fist on the bag, "I've never fought a war this tough, and to think that my enemy is just a sandbag," you smiled.

A sneer stretched his cheek, the thin crack between his lips letting a flash of light shine on his faintly glistening canines, and for a moment the image of them tracing your thigh came back to mind. It had left its mark on your mind, like a stain, and it won't wash off, no matter how hard you scrub your mind.

But a frown settled on his forehead, his eyes lowered to your fist.

"Hmm..." he said simply, crossing his arms over his chest.

You had to stop yourself squinting at them and keeping your eyes on his.

"Show me how you hit," he said.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Training with other spider-men and women was something you were comfortable with, the pressure was off, everyone learned a little from each other without judgement. But training in front of Miguel? The bar had been raised, the pressure of the stare oozing seriousness and criticism weighed on your shoulders.

Timidly then, you stepped away from the bag, and struck a blow with little confidence.

He nodded, the same retentive tt-tt being heard.

"Your fingers are in the wrong place," he raised his to show you, and as you mimicked his pose, he moved closer to you and took your hand to place your fingers correctly.

It was the first time you'd felt his hands naked against yours. They were far from soft, but they were warm, callused by time and effort. It seemed to you that he could lock your fist in his hand with ease, and the vision of his hands rearranging yours gave you the impression that every bit of skin he touched lit up and sparkled with little stars.

It must be that you couldn't mithridate your desires for him, your body and your thoughts returning to the charge to drink it all in, to take any crumb of his presence and his touch that you could get.

His annoyance seemed to return for a moment, his knuckles running over your reddened and cracked joints. He blew out a breath, and the frown disappeared.

"There, try it again", he said, barely moving away.

You came down from your little cloud and struck again. You were almost tempted to disturb your fingers again if it meant he'd put them back into place.

"Keep going," he said, taking a step forward and starting to circle around you.

You swallowed, continuing the task, taking great care not to look too ridiculous. You punched a few more times, Miguel having made an arc and stopped on your other side.

"Your posture is not right," he remarked, and you shivered as his hand came to rest on your waist.

Sliding gently over your belly, applying a minimum of force to better guide you to perfect your posture. You felt his hand come up and pull slightly on your shoulder, putting your arm back in a more favourable position at the same time.

"You need to find a balance in your body when you strike; if you put everything you have into your fist, the rest can be used too easily against you" he said, his tone calm.

But it was a little too complicated to follow his instructions now, especially when you felt his breath landing on your ear and the back of your neck. Every brush of his fingers and skin against yours made your cheeks flush and gave you a real peony look.

His other hand came to rest on your hip, on that famous protruding angle of the pelvic bone, to reorientate your body. You inhaled sharply, but tried not to make it too noticeable. All that was missing was...

"Is everything all right? Your heart rate seems to have increased."

... the same question as last time. This time, there's no way to pretend you're worried about your team-mates who are on a mission. So what's the excuse this time?

"I ate a cereal bar before I came here, must be the sugar, no doubt."

Wow. Beautiful. Brilliant. Fantastic.

You crossed your fingers that Miguel didn't pay any more attention.

"Hm," he exhaled, "just spread your legs a little... there you go, like that," he said as his hand lingered lightly on your waist before moving away from you again. "Show me," he asked, confident that his modifications to your position would prove useful in your training.

Already more confident, you began to strike again. And after half a dozen blows, you turned to him, a satisfied smile adoring his face.

"Much better," he said. He raised his hand to the level of his head, index and middle fingers together, wiggling them, indicating for you to move forward as he stepped back slightly, "Now, show me how you'd do it in real life."

Wait, was he really offering you combat training? The great Miguel O'Hara, who had no time but for the great multi-dimensional organisation of spider-men and spider-women, had just offered you training?

Hesitantly, you moved forward.

"So you want me to fight? With... you?" you asked.

"Who else," he replied, opening his arms to encompass the room, completely empty apart from you two.

"I'm going to get crushed," you smiled as you reached him.

"I'll do my worst," he offered, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you trying to make a fool of me?"

"No, otherwise I'd let you destroy your hands on the bag a bit more," he said, pointing at them, "you'll have to remember to put some ice on it.

Touché.

You felt a little guilty for taking up his free time, he who must have had so little leisure, so few opportunities to settle down without having to worry about anything. But at the same time, what did you have to feel guilty about, when it was he himself who had offered to help you? After all, it was he who had come to you. Was it simple pity then? No, let's not think about personal sabotage, let's just enjoy it.

"Come on, show me how you do it, I'll do it with one hand behind my back if you prefer." He says, not even pretending to get into a fighting stance.

"What an egalitarian spirit," you say, your voice coming out with a half-sigh, half-laugh.

Coming from one of the most capable and experienced Spider-Men in the society, how could you not shudder at the thought of fighting him?

So you positioned yourself, trying as best you could to put in place the investments he had just taught you. The thought of disappointing him was gnawing at the back of your mind.

Once you found your position sufficiently adequate, you dived towards him. With a move that seemed as simple as that, he dodged by leaning to the side while placing his foot against your ankle, so you fell pitifully to the ground.

Well, it wasn't going to be any fun after all.

"Remember what I told you," he said, coming towards you, holding out his hand, "if you put everything you have in your fist, the rest can be used against you too easily.

You looked at him for a moment, his brown eyes slightly crinkled by his little smile. Your cheeks warmed as you took his hand to stand up.

"Do it again," he said.

You breathed in, trying to concentrate and not think about the fact that you'd had more physical and vocal interaction with the object of all your thoughts in the last few minutes than you'd had in a week.

So you tried to balance your strength in your body, and came back to the charge, but you tried a surprise. You knew he'd probably see it coming a mile away, but why not try? So you gave him the impression that you were attacking him from your left, when at the last moment you deflected to the right.

And then you punched him in the cheek. The impact surprised you both, and Miguel took a meagre step backwards, bringing his hand to his cheek with eyes wide with surprise.

"Shit shit shit! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" you moved towards him in a panic, as if to check him out.

You'd just punched Miguel O'Hara in the cheek. But then, just as you were expecting to be shouted at and slammed into a wall in the next few seconds, he smiled, and the smile became a soft laugh.

You looked at him, completely stunned by his reaction. No anger, no exasperation, no threats or insults in Spanish, just a little laugh.

"That's much better," he said. "Don't worry, I can handle punches, but I recognize this is a correct hit."

You fluttered your eyelashes a few times in surprise before just puffing out your nose, a little laugh taking hold of you as well.

"Come on, let's get on with it" he said, this time getting into a fighting stance. He sweated authority, while you sweated... period.

You nodded in agreement, and the two of you began a battle of successive dodges and punches that went wide. He was holding back, you could feel it. He didn't strike a single blow, just tiny smacks with the back of his hand. So you thought for a moment, you were going to surprise him like he had surprised you with his kick. Could you take down a man the size and width of a fridge? Doubtful, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

It's as if, in the middle of the nettles, you'd found a patch of grass where you could put your foot down without stinging yourself. So you placed your leg correctly behind his knee, which surprisingly succeeded in throwing him off balance, and just as he was about to fall with a small stranglehold of his voice, his hand grabbed your wrist and dragged you down.

The shock was less, because you had fallen onto Miguel himself and his body had been used as a landing mattress. Out of breath, and not exactly aware of the situation you were in, you placed your hands on the ground on either side of his body to at least straighten yours and not crush him, your back bent like a wilting flower.

"Hey, is everything all right?"

Miguel grunted slightly, his eyelids reopening. Your breath caught in your throat as you realised the position you were in, and especially how close you were. Your faces only a few centimetres apart, your breaths colliding.

"Mhm," he said simply, "you did well, I must admit."

And as the simple feeling of victory took your heart by storm, Miguel grabbed you by the waist with both hands and rolled you onto your side, reversing your positions with lightning speed.

"But you're going to have to keep practising," he smirked, one of his hands separating from your waist to rest on the ground next to your head.

And your strength turned to water. Your gaze scanned his, and you wished you could see your own eyes just to know how much they betrayed you, especially when they inevitably drifted to his lips. You didn't need to lie to yourself, you wanted to, they looked so soft... It was the sensation of his thumb making a single, simple circular movement on your stomach that brought you out of your reverie on his lips, regaining his eyes.

"Distracted?" he asked, his eyes a little darker than before.

Sure enough, you had metamorphosed into a big red tomato. So your reflex was to bring both hands up to your face to hide it.

"Uh huh," Miguel prevented, removing his hand from your waist to move your hands away from your face, getting even closer. "What's there to hide, hum?"

His eyes seemed very observant of what was being said in yours, and you wondered if he could see all the emotions rumbling in your heart. You could feel the strands of his hair tickling your forehead and cheeks. The tension was so heavy and pervasive that you could have cut it with a knife.

"My desires," you whispered as an answer, clearing your throat and moistening your lips, your eyes moving tirelessly from his to his lips.

You gasp, the closeness between the two of you acting as a veritable truth serum.

"Tell me about them," he murmured.

You bit the inside of your lip, breathing softly. The inner battle was powerful. To remain silent and regret, or to say something and hope? What if it all stopped? What if it bothered him so much that he couldn't look at you any other way than uncomfortable? And what if... what if... And if I don't try anything, I'll never know.

"A... A kiss," you managed to say.

"A kiss?" he repeated, as if testing the taste of that word in his mouth. "Tell me, where."

You squirmed slightly, perhaps you'd be more successful in speaking your thoughts with your eyes closed? But when you shut them for a moment, you felt his nose brush against yours, his thumb on your hip again making circular movements.

"Where?" he asked again, both of you reduced to whispers. Still hearing no answer, he moved to kiss your forehead, "there?", but you shook your head. Then he kissed the top of your eyelid, "there?", and went on to kiss your cheek, "there?", his voice barely a whisper.

He brushed against your nose again, his lips barely grazing the corner of yours.

His eyes had a tender sparkle as he kissed them tenderly. His lips tasted of wood and rain, pulling back : "There?”

"Yes," you sighed, your eyelids half-closed, "there". You moistened your lips.

"I think I heard you wrong," he murmured. "Say it again."

You swallowed, trying to raise your head to kiss him again, but understanding your tactics, he buried his face closer to your neck, his lips brushing your ear.

"Say it again."

A shiver ran through you as his breath spread a wave of heat down your neck, straightening slightly to face you again.

"Kiss me, again."

And he came to kiss you once more, softly, dark and silent as the night. His hand ran down your body, up your side and over your back to push a little more of your body against his. Your hands came to rest on his cheek and back, your fingers snaking through his hair, nails lightly grazing his skull.

A moan bubbling up his throat reverberated on your lips, just like on the mission.

" If only you wouldn't make me want you..." he whispered between kisses, his mouth growing a little hungrier as his fangs nibbled lightly at the skin of your lip.

He came to kiss your jaw, your neck, drinking in your skin, breaths of ease escaping from your lips.

But suddenly, a small cluster of orange pixels appeared not far from your heads.

"Miguel we got a- oh hi there!" said Layla in a tone that was a mixture of playfulness and surprise.

You immediately turned your head to the side to avoid her, your cheeks flushing red. Your heart was pounding in your chest like a bird trying to get out of its cage.

"Go away Layla," he said though, his hand coming to take your chin, his eyes half closed, kissing you again.

"But Miguel it's-"

"It's very important for your future that you don't finish your sentence," Miguel growled as he moved from your mouth to your throat again, letting his canines lightly trace along your pulse line.

"And the situation is just as important for all our futures," Layla insisted.

Miguel grunted, sighing, and murmured softly:

"I'm sorry."

You kissed his cheek and he raised his eyebrows.

"It's okay."

He kissed your lips quickly.

"This is not over," he warned, sitting up and helping you to your feet. "Go and sleep now." Looking at your hand in his, he added: "And take care of this," pointing to your knuckles.

You nodded as he began to walk away.

"Oh yeah, Miguel has been keeping an eye on you!" said Layla, a small smile wrinkling her nose.

"What?" you asked, confused.

"Layla ?" Miguel called dangerously.

"Okay okay gotta go, goodnight!" she said, vanishing into thin air to come and stand next to Miguel.

The two of them left the room, and you looked at the exit.

What had just happened?

next part >> unexpected mission (nsfw)

#madschiavelique ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #astv miguel #miguel astv #spiderman astv #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o hara x reader #romance #fluff #miguel o’hara x you #spiderman 2099 x you

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