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josephquinnswhore · 11 months ago

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Red Wine & Reparation - joel miller x female reader

Summary: you and Joel became young parents, married young and divorced young.. coparenting can be hard.. especially when you still love each other.

Word Count: 7k

Content Warnings: no outbreak, awkward divorced young couple, Joel Miller being a cat guy, flirting, awkwardness, slight implication of attempted SA. Unprotected sex, oral—female receiving, praise, pet names, tongue fucking, slight submissive Joel???? Creampie, mentions of pregnancy, and breastfeeding kink ??

Note: in this fic female reader & Joel are the same age in this fic!! This is my contribution for this week lol.

You were expecting a visit from Joel in a few hours; although you’d tried to be in contact with him, it seemed he was struggling to get back to you. Texts gone unanswered, calls sent straight to voicemail. It was unusual, and as clingy as you felt, it wasn't like Joel not to be in contact, especially when it came to your daughter, Sarah.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He calls your name from the other side of the door. “Hey, you home?”

The door swings open and Joel stands on the other side of the door, you can't ignore the subsequent look of franticness in his brown eyes. “Hey.” His second greeting is a little more relaxed, if anything a little bashful. The tips of his ears are red under his dark brown curls.

“I just got a new phone, had a little malfunction at work with the other one, mind putting your number in?” You take the new phone, something that seemed way too fancy for Joel, an Iphone 13. As if your eyebrows raise of their own accord, it doesn't go unnoticed by him.

“I never took you for a man that cared about keeping up with the trends.” Your remark earns a scoff. “I just want to be able to keep up with everything Sarah’s into these days, all the facebooking and snapping or whatever she's got.”

His social unawareness pulls a laugh from her dry throat. “I'm surprised she wants you on her snapchat, teenage girls don’t normally want their parents seeing what they’re up to.”

He grunts. “How are you anyway—both of you.. I mean.”

“Things have been okay, I've taken a step back from work to try and relax a bit more, you know?” Although Joel nods, he can't relate, he’d just gone through the ringer of starting his own business with Tommy.

But Joel knows you need a break, he notices the physical telltale signs of stress. Lines beside your eyes that didn't seem visible a few months ago, the slight strain in yout voice and even your physical stance seems off. You seem to be trying to mask it, but he notices.

“Everything at work alright? They givin’ you trouble again?”

Again. How you'd forgotten about the last time you confided about how bad work had been getting. The unpaid overtime and extensive workload. Joel seemed furious at the thought of you wearing yourself thin and had even rung your workplace, that's an incident that got you a written warning.

In an attempt to dismiss his worries you wave your hand. “Ah it's not so bad, I’ve taken some time off with what little annual leave I have.”

“That’s good. You work too hard, you do.” His voice is softer than it had been a moment ago, his gaze settling on your own. He tries his hardest to suppress the memories as he stares into your eyes, he tries to forget how easy things were back then in comparison to now.

You break eye contact as you feel your kitten rubbing herself up against your legs. The little creature lets out a small mew.

Joel’s shock is evident on his face, the fluffy white bundle of fur rubs itself along your pant leg, its tiny mews echoing in his ears. “Oh my god, what in the world..” He stammers. “Is that…?”

Your entire face heats up. “I know.. I've never been a fan of cats but.. She's cute right?”

Joel can't help the instinctual reaction to kneel down onto the floor to get a closer look at the fluffy bundle of fur. He lets the small creature sniff his hand before petting her. With every stroke of his fingers along her pointed ears, she purrs louder. “What's her name?”

“Her names angel. Sarah named her.”

“Of course she would,” Joel murmurs, still petting the kitten as he looks up at you from the floor. “How'd you end up with a kitten anyhow?”

You huff at the memory. “Found her on the side of the road, I think someone dumped her.”

“God, that’s terrible. Why would anyone do something like that? Who just dumped a living animal in the middle of the road?” He shakes his head as he grumbles angrily. He strokes the kitten in a softer manner, expressing his sympathy for the little animal.

You're stewing in your own irritation at the thought. “Some jackass.”

The conversation seems to grow quiet, with the only noise being the kitten’s contented purrs. “She's a lucky kitty is what she is, havin’ two special girls lookin’ after her.” He murmurs, leaning in to tickle the small kitten under the chin with a chuckle.

“I never took you for a cat man, hell—you're looking like such a softie right now,” you tease.

“It's the one thing you never really knew then, right?” The kitten rolls on its back, purring as it scratches itself on the soft creamy carpet. “I bet you would’ve known all my soft spots had things been different back then.”

A sombre mood falls between the two. “Maybe so..”

Joel turns away with a regretful look in his eyes, it's a painful truth, and one the pair had both seemed to accept. Despite the way the two had seemed to adapt to the co-parenting situation.. They're both reminded every single day since their split of what could have been.

“Yeah.. maybe so.” He lets out a sigh, watching as the small kitten runs off, and he's left kneeling on the floor as he watches after it. He doesn't really know what to say.. And he's not sure you do either, it’s awkward to have these quiet moments between them.

“You know.. Sarah told me you went on a date last week.” You try to sound as encouraging as possible, but even as your heart cracks, it seems to break the silence brewing between you. And honestly, you’re nosey.

His face seems to redden at your playful accusation. “Damn.. she really has no filter, does she?” An awkward chuckle follows as he lets out a small groan and his knees crack as he stands up off the floor. As his gaze meets your own again, he wonders how you'll take the news. If he’s lucky, you’ll be jealous.

“She's a smart kid.. observant.” A small moment of silence briefs the conversation before you can stop yourself from asking.. “How was it? The date I mean.”

“That she is..” Joel murmurs before adding reluctantly. “The date was just.. Not a good fit. It didn't go well.” He shrugs, but you knew it would've been a massive blow to his self esteem. “I don't know why I tried… just thought.. maybe..” He rubs the back of his head and chuckles anxiously as he trails off.

It seems his self esteem did take quite the blow.

“Don't be so hard on yourself now, you're a catch, and any good woman will see that.”

Joel’s eyes narrow into a frown. “I'm hardly a catch.. Let's be real, I work too much.” He pauses. “Maybe I'm still caught up on..” He catches himself before he admits it..

Your ears perk at this. “Who doesn't love a hardworking man.” You tease lightly.

He manages a smile at your teasing. “I’m not a catch.. this..” He gestures to himself pitifully. “Is not a catch. Truth be told I’m.. I'm still pretty caught up on you and I'm not even ashamed to say it.”

“Hell—why?” Is all you manage to ask in a stutter.

“Because..” He lets out a frustrated noise and scratches his head anxiously. “Because I should have fought for you, I should have tried harder. You were everything I wanted. Still are.. Honestly.” His tone takes a solemn tone. “That doesn't just go away, all of those feelings.”

“You're right.. They don't just go away.” Your agreement to his statement has him wondering, his eyes searching your face for any sliver of teasing.

“So.. what does that mean? If I was to say.. If I was to ask something stupid.. Would you be angry?”

You're a little confused by his sudden bashfulness. “That depends on what you're asking.”

“Hypothetically..” He starts. “If I were to ask you out on a date, for old times sake..” He trails off and doesnt look back at you, there's a pregnant silence between you both..

“You want to take me on a date?” You ask in confusion.

He clears his throat and looks up to you, his eyes shifting around the room. “Is that a stupid question?”

“Well.. how about you ask me on a real date and maybe… I’ll say yes..”

His head spins in a daze, his heart doubles in size as he realises how much he wants this. “...are you serious?”

You simply nod, waiting for him to ask you on a date properly.

He's nervous, shifting from foot to foot, as if this was the hardest thing he's ever had to ask. “Okay then..” He mumbles to himself, clearing his throat, trying to steady his voice. “Would you care to.. Join me for a dinner date.. at my place?”

He actually asked..

“I would be happy to join you for dinner, Joel.”

It seems as if he's having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that you actually accepted. Even though it's what he wanted, needed.. He had somehow still expected you to decline. The look in your eye contractics his anxiety, though.

“You sure?” He asked, insecurity evident in his shallow voice. “I mean, you still remember how much I work, right? I have to finish this job for a client, he's on my ass about it, keeps asking me when I'm gonna be finished, but I told him I'm on track. Gonna put in some big hours to get this done.”

How could you forget, it was the reason you split all those years ago. His work was all consuming.

Your heart aches at his attempt to push you away–to take your pending rejection on the chin. “How about you let me know when you're free and you can cook for me, hm?”

The offer was flexible, giving him a chance to relieve himself of the pressure and try to find a day that works for you both.

Joel seemed to appreciate the offer, and his face visibly relaxed. “That sounds perfect, as soon as this project is done, and this client is off my ass, then we’ll figure out our date.”

“Sounds great, just send me a text and let me know, yeah?” You smile and tuck your phone into your jean pocket.

“Count on it.” He spoke with such promise it was hard not to get excited about what was to come.. Maybe they could rekindle what they once had. “I'll talk to you later then?” He takes a step towards the front door, his phone rings loudly, you assume it's a client of his.

“Yeah, we’ll talk later..”

As you close the door, it takes a moment to process what had just happened. A stupidly big smile resides on your lips, giddy with excitement, the disbelief that this is happening. Joel doesn’t text till late, but you’re ecstatic that he did get into contact about something other than who has custody of Sarah for the weekend.

Joel Miller 😉 10:45 pm

Hey, I'm sorry it's late, I just wanted to catch up. How's this weekend sound to you? For our date..

You. 10:47 pm

No sweat. What time were you thinking?

Joel Miller 😉 10:50 pm

Hoping to see you around 7. I'll cook dinner and we can just hang out. Unless you wanted to do something else?

You. 10:52 pm

No. it sounds perfect. 7 works for me.

Joel Miller 😉 10:53 pm

Great.. See you at 7 then.. Saturday..

You. 10:53 pm

Great! See you then handsome. 😉

Joel Miller 😉 10:58 pm

See you, beautiful. 😜😏😊

You can't help but laugh at the emojis Joel sent; he was such an old man that didn't understand a damn thing about technology, sure he was trying, but it seemed to get the better of him.

The week is slow and miserable, with your time off work and Sarah at school, you're not sure what to do with yourself for many hours of the days that slowly pass on by. You spend a lot of time reading your books that had sat and collected many layers of dust on the bookshelf in your living room, even taking your little kitten, angel, for walks on a small leash.

You find that as you become moderately okay with being alone, and in the company of naught but a small kitten, time seems to pass by much quicker than it did.

You'd been doting on what you'd wear all week–hell, you were still trying not to think too much about it. Choosing a simple lavender sundress, it was far too hot to wear anything that would stick to your skin. And whatever sin you’ve commited by wearing matching lavender lingerie is no one's business but your own.. Joel wouldn't know anyway.

It couldn't hurt to hope, right? It had been years since you been laid.

“God what the hell is wrong with me?” You murmur to yourself, one hand desperately clutching onto a bottle of red wine, as if you couldn't make it any more awkward. It's 6:50 pm. But you couldn't bare to sit across the damned street in your car a moment longer, your heart ager and anxiety running wild.

Knock, knock. Your hand raps on the hardwood door twice, hands shaking from being so anxious.

As the door opens, Joel grins. “Hey.. you're early.” Taking in his appearance, you can't help but swallow the saliva that had built up in the few seconds you’d spent greedily staring at him. Hell— it was only a brown cotton shirt and a pair of jeans, but he looked incredible.

“I know.. I hope that's okay.” His own eyes take a moment to appreciate your outfit, the perfectly fitting seam of lavender purple that fits snug around your breasts.

“Totally fine, I’m ready in here.. I made you something special.” The grin on his face is cheeky and he takes the bottle of wine from your trembling hands and opens the door wider for you to enter. “Come on in.”

He has absolutely outdone himself, it seemed Joel had managed to clean the entire house in the week coming up to this evening. The house is cleaner than it's ever been, his kitchen is full of colour of fruits and a wonderful aroma swirls around as you walk through the hallway. The counter is a little cluttered with spices and a half drunken can of beer.

“You've absolutely outdone yourself joel.” The compliment seemed to naturally expel from your lips, seeing how he had set the dining table up, in the middle was a simple summer salad and two wine glasses, as if he knew you'd be bringing the wine..

“I would be a terrible host if I didn't have something special in store for you..” As he trails off, the sound of a timer from the kitchen buzzes, and Joel rubs his hands together. “Here, why won't you take a seat?” He pulls the chair out, waiting for you to take the offer, of course you accept, taking a seat and he tucks your chair in.

“Be back in a moment with the food, make yourself comfortable.” The smell is absolutely incredible as Joel steps back out of the kitchen and sets a steaming pan of hot pasta right in front of you, sitting on the seat across from you.

“Jesus, how in the world? I remember all those years ago you couldn't even seem to grasp the concept of avocado toast.”

Joel laughs halfheartedly at your comment. “I wasn't much of a cook back then was I? Always relying on you to use your magic in the kitchen.” He grasps the wine and opens the bottle, pouring you a generous glass. “The fact that you remember that is pretty impressive though. That had to be what.. five or six years ago?”

You can't help but feel embarrassed to be caught out. “I guess I have a knack for remembering things, god.. Sarah would have been barely five back then..”

When you split..

Joel senses the tension in your voice, and serves himself some wine, taking a small sip. “Yeah, she was pretty young back then. It seems like only yesterday that she was a baby..” He takes a small pause as he reminisces. “I always liked when you carried her around in that sling you had for her. Never really understood why you didn't just use a pram..the sling seemed like much more work.”

You let out a small laugh. “I just liked having her close to me, and I hated those goddamn prams so much. I could never figure out how to use the stupid things.”

“Yeah, they were kinda bulky.. I never liked them much either, honestly. Still.. You'd spend like an hour just letting her nap on your chest, you would just carry her around the house.” He lifts the wine glass, his cheeks bare a resemblance to the dark red wine. “I always thought it was kinda adorable.”

The thought makes you stop and think, lifting the glass up to your lips to take a tentative sip. “Do you ever wish we could have a do over?”

He swallows the small amount of wine in his mouth, the smile that was on his face slowly fades. He never thought they would ever speak of this, of their past. He held a lot of guilt, that they fell apart because of him, he was the one who ruined a good thing. Now.. six years later, he had a chance to mend things, maybe even create something new between the two. “Every day.”

The silence hangs in the air between them for a few moments.. “Well.. either way. Sarah turned out wonderful, and that is something we both ought to be proud of.” Your hand meets his own for a brief moment.

Joel can't help but nod in agreement. Sarah was kind, intelligent, thoughtful and empathetic. He couldn't help but feel like Sarah was turning out more like you than him, and he was grateful for it. “But still, I can't help but want.. I don't want a do-over. What we had was good until I screwed it up, I just wish there was some way I could make up for that.”

“Hey—come on now.. You were working overtime back then..trying to keep our heads above water. I didn't.. I didn't understand the sacrifice you were making for our family back then.. You sacrificed a lot, joel..”

Joel looks up at you in surprise when you assure him of his goodwill. In a sense, he's grateful you're defending him, but you’ve always been too kind about the past, too forgiving, he doesn't know if he deserves it. “Yeah I was working a tonne of overtime.. I was trying to save up for a house, I wanted to take care of you both.. Guess it got out of hand.”

You can't help but feel a sense of nostalgia as you look around the house that you both raised Sarah in for the first five years of her life.. “You did it Joel, you got the house and.. Now you're starting up your own business. You've come a long way.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it was all worth it, I missed out on a lot of Sarah's younger years in the process… it's not time that I can get back.. and I know it was my own doing.”

“That was your sacrifice.. And it was so she could have a good childhood. That in itself makes you an incredible father. She knows what you did for us, for her, and she loves you.”

Joel knew that much was true, he concedes this as the truth. He couldn't deny that he had an incredible relationship with his daughter. There were many things joel regretted in his life and from the past, but he couldn't recall a single moment of regret when it came to how he chose to raise Sarah.

“I think we're well overdue for some more wine, wouldn't you say?” You grin, nodding toward the bottle, and with a small smirk, Joel complies, filling your glass half full and his own the same.

“That may be true,” he replies playfully. “But I'm still gonna need you to take it easy. I'm not prepared for what you'll be like once you're tipsy.”

“I'll be on my best behaviour.” You grin, almost too mischievously.

“I'm not believing that for a single second. I know you.. as soon as the wine hits, you’re gonna lose your inhibitions and start trying to charm me.”

Rolling your eyes is an appropriate response. “As if I need to try to charm you, Joel Miller.”

“See?” He chuckles, “even now, you're flirting with me.”

You are amused by his tone and can't help but be a smartass. “Hey—this is a date.. Isn't it?”

With genuine amusement in his tone, he laughs. “Well, I suppose it is. But you can't deny that if I keep pouring you this wine, you wont end up in my lap within the half hour?”

“Pour me another glass and find out.” You challenge, setting the now empty glass in front of him.

He raises an eyebrow, but pours you a third glass of wine, handing the glass back to you. “Here you go.” He wonders if he'll be right in his prediction.

You hold the glass up and take a sip, eyes closing momentarily as the warmth slides straight down to your stomach. Silently thanking him.

Joel leans back into his chair, after topping up his own glass that wasn't quite empty yet, watching you with a brightness in his eyes. “You know, even though we haven't been an actual couple in half a decade, it's still nice to be having one of these again.. as strange as that sounds.”

With a raised eyebrow and amusement in your tone. “I dont think its strange at all, I think it's wonderful.”

He hums in response, finally digging into the pasta that had been sitting there since he served it steaming hot off the stove, you follow in tow, deciding that your stomach has somehow made room for the deliciously smelling creamy pasta. You can't help but groan in delight as you chew the creamy pasta. “Fucking delicious.” You mutter.

As the two of you decide to eat, Joel notes that you’re out of wine… “I'll get another bottle.” You insist, seeing that he's digging into his dinner.

You know your way around the kitchen you'd spent years living in, reaching upward for the wine cupboard, it seems you can't quite reach, whispering to yourself.. “Goddamnit.” You don’t realise you’ve been staring at the cupboard for a few minutes until you hear him.

“Having some trouble?” You don't have the nerve to turn around at how husky his voice sounds. He decided to take advantage of the fact that he had disarmed you with his voice alone, and slips up behind you, his chest flush against your back. He doesn't bother to help you reach the wine, instead he wraps his arms around your waist.

You can't help but lean backwards into him, closing your eyes as you lean your head backward into his shoulder. Your heart skips at the sensation of him pulled taut against you, it had been too long since he held you like this.

His hand caresses the side of your neck, and he whispers softly into your ear. “How's the wine treating you baby? Seems like your skin is a little warm..” He teased boldly.

“Who said it's got anything to do with the wine? My handsome ex husband is holding me— I think that calls for some mandatory blushing, does it not?”

Joel chuckles and squeezes you tighter around your hips, his body pressing against yours firmly, your hips pressed against the bench. “Ex-husband… is that what I am to you now?” He asked, smirking.

You can't help but laugh breathlessly. “Legally, yes.”

“Legally, maybe,” he replies, his smirk broadening. “But in my eyes.. Who you truly belong to is not a matter of legality..” He leans in and whispers softly into your ear, his lips tickle the skin. “Just a matter of heart..”

You shudder as his warm breath warms your ears. “Joel Miller, the romantic.”

“What can I say, you bring out the best in me.” He replies softly, lips against your neck, his voice carries a seductive undertone. One hand slides up your arms and he grabs you to spin you around, his eyes boring into you as your back is pushed against the counter, you’re forced to meet his gaze as his hand grips the nape of your neck. “Do you want to know what I really think about you?”

His sudden manoeuvre has her shocked into near silence. “What do you think of me Joel?”

He hesitates, trying to find the right words. He can't mess this up, not with your large and vulnerable eyes watching him. “You're beautiful,” he praised softly. “You have the most kind-hearted soul I've ever known.. You're a wonderful mother… and you’ll be the only one I’ll ever truly want..”

Maybe the wine helped him be bold enough to be truthful in this moment, or oversharing. He felt like this might be the only chance he might have.

“Why did it take half a bottle of wine for you to tell me all this?” You mumble.

Joel goes quiet. He can't help but stare down at you, the smirk on his lips fades, you'd always been able to see through him. “I was scared,” a note of humility in his voice. “Scared that once you knew, you wouldn't want to look at me again. I always thought you were out of my league, ya know? I didn't deserve someone like you…still don't know if I do.”

His self depreciation was never something you would come to accept. “Don't talk like that, Jesus Joel. You really have no idea how much I love you, do you?”

“How can you still love me?” He asks, although he's almost afraid of the answer you'll give. “I hurt you, I let myself drift so far from what mattered..”

“Joel… you've done nothing that isn't worth forgiving,” you promise softly.

Joel can't help himself as he pulls you against him, chest to chest. He holds you tightly, as if it might be the last time…”But that's the problem,” he said softly. “Not that what I did isn’t forgivable…but that it didn't need to happen in the first place. It hurts me just thinking about how much I lost sight of things, but it can't have been worse than how much I must've hurt you…”

Your hands have a mind of their own as they cup his cheeks, making him look down at you. “Now you listen to me, okay? I love you. Things were not easy for us back then.. We were young parents and struggling to pay the bills, parenthood hit us fucking hard and we didnt make it..” You sigh, your eyes full of love and vulnerability. “Hell—I don't even remember half of it… but were here now, we have a chance to make things better than they were, we can start new.”

He nods as he rests his forehead against your own, a small smile on his lips. You easily wipe away any insecurity and self guilt he held for their split. You were right, of course. This wasn't the time to dwell on the past, on what could've been, not when the two of you were here… now, with a brand new start. “Let's try again, huh?” He asks in a low whisper.

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you nod against his own warm skin. “Let's try again…”

His hands are warm as they caress your cheeks, he pulls you into him for a kiss, lips meeting and you're flooded with emotion, all the doubt and uncertainty you both held washed away as soon as your lips connected. The bittersweet aftertaste of wine lingers on your warm lips. He struggled to pull away from you, but he looked down at your loved filled eyes, gazing softly up at him. “God, I've missed that.” He whispers softly.

He brushes a handful of strands of loose hair out of your face, looking down at you, you note his pupils are dilated. “You still take my breath away,” he laughs softly, caressing your cheek.

You flush at his praise. “Trying to get in my good books already?”

He was definitely trying. “You can't fault me for trying, I could really use some brownie points right now, ya know?”

Laughing at his sense of humour, you roll your eyes. “You're a crooked man Joel, and I love it.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?” An amused tone in his voice, his body pressing against your own. He leans down to kiss you again softly, his hands caressing your waist and letting his fingers trail up the side of your torso.

“Of course it's a compliment—other men have their heads on straight and they are just…weird. You're a little crooked, a little weird, and I like that..”

The way you accept his flaws leaves him more in awe of you, he can't complain at how endearing you find his oddities. “And so youre saying it's a good thing that I'm a little unhinged at times?” He chuckles, reaching up under your chin to trace small shapes on the soft skin.

You have a little mischief twinkling in your eyes.. “Oh you know—when you get all angry and protective. Definitely crooked, but so sexy.”

“You find it hot when I get territorial over you?” He couldn't help but laugh at her admission.

The wine flows through you, giving you a sense of boldness. You run a hand down his chest, manicured fingers tickling him through the brown cotton shirt. “Do you remember that time I was on a date with that jackass, I was drunk outta my mind—”

He scowls at the memory of that night, you, his ex-wife on a date with some chump named James. The man had tried to take you home, even though you were inebriated. “Yeah, I do,” he replied with a possessive tone to his voice. “You were wasted, couldn't even walk straight.. But I knew what that animal was thinking, I could see the way he looked at you.”

“All I could remember was how infuriated you were, the sexiest thing I'd ever seen..” Your eyes draw him in, batting your lashes at him.

Joel smirks, a light blush spreading from his neck up his cheeks, to his ears from your comment. “You thought it was sexy huh? I thought I'd lost my shit and went a little overboard..”

You can only shrug, unbothered by his reaction at that time. “Oh—maybe you did, I mean you did beat him to a pulp in that forsaken carpark, didn’t you baby? All for me.”

“That prick needed his ass kicked either way,” he growls. “There was no way I was letting him have you.. Drunk or not, that man crossed a line, and I’d do it all over again.”

Your heart doubles in size, and you can feel your knees weakening. “You'd do it all over again?”

He doesn't hesitate. “I'd do it a thousand times over.. At that moment.. in my mind, you were still my girl, being hit on by some creep. And I wasn't going to let him take you away from me.” He pauses, wondering if his explanation sounded too crazy. “You still meant alot to me.. Even after we split.. You always have.”

You run a finger down his cheek, the coarse hairs of his beard make a sound that sends a tingle down your spine. “What I wouldn't do to see that side of you again.”

Joel tilts his head slightly and takes a moment to ponder your comment. He was surprised to hear you admit how much you loved this dominant and possessive side of him. “That side of me.. You want to see it again, cause I can make it happen, baby girl. Just say the words.”

You couldn't help the way you trembled, sure that the only thing keeping you up right was Joel's hips pressing against your own, back digging into the bench. “Please,” you beg pathetically. His hand reaches up to your neck, holding you by the neck, forcing you to look up at him. He applies a small amount of pressure that has you whimpering.

The way you melt under his possessive gesture was enough for him to feel confident that this side of him was still within reach and you loved it. He leans closer to you and kisses you again, this time more forcefully. He lets his fingers dig into your soft flesh, squeezing firmly while knowing it's not causing you pain or discomfort.

Hearing your squeaking moans, and the way your body seems to relax into him as he takes control of you.. He takes this as motivation to move his lips against yours with a different kind of hunger. Feeding into the darker side of himself, trying to recapture that long-lost side of him that he's lost after letting you walk out of his life.

But he wouldn't let you go, no, not this time. He had his fingers digging into your flesh and his lips moving against yours with so much force, he shoves his tongue into your mouth..

His free hand wanders along your body, feeling the warmth of the wine and from the heat of his touch, your body reacting exactly how it used to, as if no time has passed at all. His hand gropes your breast roughly, squeezing and slipping past the two layers of fabric. He pulls away from your lips, eyes darkening. “Wearing a lace bra just for me, huh baby? Bet you've got a matching set on, don't you?” He growls.

“Y–Yes..” A feeble moan emits from your lips, smothered in his spit. The thought drives him wild, and slides down the straps to your dress and takes in the lavender lace bra you brought specially for tonight. “Fuck, you’re a naughty girl aren’t you?”

When you don't respond, he grabs at your breasts roughly, grasping the soft flesh between his calloused fingers, pinching your nipples harshly, making you cry out in pleasure, it was a sensitive spot for you, one that Joel remembered well.

He leans down, greedily sucking all the sweat off your warm skin, licking and nipping, his teeth biting down into the flesh of your neck, leaving an immediate mark, claiming his stake on you. You were his..

His lips messily kissed your breasts, tongue finally meeting the nipple where he suckled harshly, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Do you remember when you were pregnant? Let me drink your milk straight from the source, didn’t you baby? Fuck.. what I wouldn’t give to do that again,” he whimpers against your skin.

Your heart races, running your fingers through his dark hair. He spends his time at your breasts, alternating pleasuring the two, making sure they’re both equally as tended to as the other. “Tits are so fucking perfect baby.” He praises.

His greedy hands trail down your body, the fabric of your dress bunching at his fingers, as he slides them down your legs, he’s on his knees.. face to face with the matching lavender lace panty that covers your pussy. An involuntary moan leaves his lips, he can’t tear his eyes away at the large sopping wet patch in the middle of your panties. “Fucking hell, I can smell your need, you know that?”

Your legs tremble at his sudden growl, he could smell her arousal? The thought embarrassed her. The thought didn’t stay long in her head, he presses his face into your cunt with the panties still on, moaning against you. His large nose bumping your swollen clit through the material, and you let out a whine and curl your fingers through his hair. “Please Joel.. I need more.”

He ignores your pleas for more, licking and sucking you through your panties, he can taste you through them, he’s like an animal being teased through a cage, and he’s painfully hard, teasing the both of you with his devilish antics.

“Fuck Joel! Please!” You beg a little louder, crying out as she tugs on his hair.

Without another moment passing, his thick fingers tear the lace in half, exposing your mound. You didn’t shave, your pubic hair was trimmed but still bush enough for Joel to dive into. His mouth watered, he had always had a preference for hair down there, he’d seen it in pornography magazines growing up, and he fucking desired it ever since.

Women these days are all about shaving, being bare and having brazilians.

Fuck that. This is what Joel needed.

“Fucking hell baby you’re gonna kill me.” He groaned into your cunt. Diving face first, his arms wrap around your ass and pull you tight, his face buried into your cunt as far as he could go.

You stumble and lift one leg over his shoulder, trying to support yourself a little more. It feels impossible though, the way Joel’s tongue dives into your cunt, lapping at the juices you’re giving him, pushing his tongue as far into your hole as he can reach. His hawkish nose presses into your clit and you feel your legs trembling, like you’re about to topple over.

“Joel..” you warn breathlessly. You’re close, so fucking close.

“Cum for me baby. Fuck.. please.” Suddenly he was the one begging, on his knees lapping at your cunt, whining against you. Feeling him beg against you was all it took for you to come undone.. your legs buckle and you tremble above him, clutching onto his shoulder, as you cry out, your clit tingles with pleasure as Joel slowly rolls his tongue against it, trying to string out your orgasm.

He laps you up, all of you, not letting a single drop go to waste, his eyes are black with desire and his face is glistening with you, smeared all over his face, finally, he rises to his feet. “Turn around baby girl.” He orders, his voice husky from your slick.

You can do nothing but comply, he shoves you against the counter, your hips against the cold wood. You can hear him, his breaths are quick, he’s frantically unbuckling his belt, tying the brown leather around your wrists..

You feel his hard cock against your ass, and your eyes widen, forgetting how big he was, did he get bigger?

With one hand he pushes you down onto the bench so you’re lying, face down. “That’s it angel. You’re so fucking sweet, aren’t you baby?” He praises senselessly, the swollen tip of his cock meets your hole and you squeak out, he stretches you, beyond what you ever remembered. “J-Joel.” You whine and inhale sharply, face still pressed against the cold countertop, arms bound behind your back and his throbbing thick cock pushing inside of you, you’re helpless, completely at his mercy and you fucking love it.

Your cunt can testify the fact, it’s dripping, all over Joel, he pushes himself into the hilt of you and groans loudly, a loud grunt leaving his lips. One hand holds you flat against the counter, the other holds your bound arms at his chest.

He slowly starts to thrust, legs quaking with desire, he knows he won’t last long, fuck, he’s never had a pussy so perfect, not after you, all he knows is the warmth of you, your perfectly tight hole, sucking him in deeper.

Your moans are loud, but muffled by your cheeks squished against the counter, you can almost feel him in your ribs, with every thrust it feels like you’re running out of oxygen. Strangled gasps leave your lips as your pussy clenches around him, threatening to spill over a second time..

Joel can feel it, the way you grip him, he knows he won’t last, he grunts as he presses himself flush against you, your arms behind your back hinder his need to be closer to you, but this way.. he wraps his hand around your neck, bringing you upright, flush to his chest.

“Fuck, that’s it baby.” He growls, his cock pummels into you mercilessly, and now you’re free to cry out as loud as you can.

“Joel.. Joel.. I’m.. I..” you stutter, in between moans, your cunt clenching around him. You tense up as you orgasm a second time, creaming all over his throbbing cock.

He brings you totally upright, his hand tightening around your throat. “Fuck baby.. I’m gonna cum.. fill this perfect pussy up.” He whimpered into your ear, biting down on your neck.

You can feel him tensing, seconds later.. heavy and warm ropes of his cum spurt so far into your womb you whimper, knowing that he’s sure to get you knocked up.. again. He lets out the most obnoxious grunting as he pants heavily into your ears.

“Joel.. fuck I’m.. not on birth control.” You whimper. He keeps his cock inside of you, until he softens and pulls out of you, untying the belt that restrained your hands, as your hands fall limply by your sides, he kisses your shoulders, knowing there’s ought to be an ache.

“Good. Maybe we can have a do over after all, hm?” He murmurs softly, kissing the back of your neck. His hands find their way down to your stomach, caressing it softly. “Wouldn’t hurt to have just one more.. would it?”

After all, Joel Miller was a possessive man, a greedy man. You would bare as many children as he wished, because you weren’t ever going anywhere again. You were his.

“Might as well marry me again while you’re at it.” You tease breathlessly.

He hums against your skin, his forehead resting on the back of your shoulder. “Already thinkin’ bout it baby.”

Because Joel Miller wouldn’t let you get away, not this time.

#young Joel miller #hbo Joel miller #Joel miller smut #Pedro pascal #Joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #Joel miller x you #Joel miller #the last of us

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hyomaslut · 1 year ago

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──★ ˙🍒 ̟ !! SAY THAT YOU MISS ME. 18+!

☆⌒(ゝ。∂).ᐟ ʙʟʟᴋ ʙᴏʏs ɢᴏɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴇx

✿ ─ characters: bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, rin itoshi ✿ ─ cw: somewhat angst, nsfw, smut, gn!reader, afab!reader, no pronouns, aged-up!characters(21+), established relationships??, exes to lovers, kissing, groping, dirty talk, semi-public sex, lots of jealousy, alcohol use, posessiveness, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, toxic behaviors/dynamics, use of foul language, suggestive themes, proofread?? ✿ ─ notes: they are straight up drabbles. i wrote hyoma's first and i was like, omg this is way too long. fuck it, hope i can get the others close to this word count. and then they were longer. im so sorry i promise next time i wont be so long winded.

BACHIRA MEGURU is unsettled by the silence that lingers in your absence...

he honestly doesn’t know what to do with himself. the heavy loneliness he feels in a bed far too big for just one person is almost enough to push him to call you, staring at your contact for at least an hour. you were best friends. partners in crime. a power couple. how could things be over? he misses your voice more than anything else, all the time in his day usually spent deep in conversation with you now feeling empty.

he could tell that he reached a real pathetic stage of heartbroken when he started listening to old voicemails from you at night, but couldn’t find it in himself to care as he smiles at your laugh and tears up at your i love you’s. that turns into scrolling through photos he has of you, and then that has his mind drifting to the hidden album he has dedicated to you, full of the numerous risqué shots you’ve sent him over the course of your relationship. meguru doesn’t dwell on the moral dilemma of keeping the pictures, they were his after all. either gifted to him or taken by him, so he feels he has some sort of right to them. when he scrolls to a particular video from his point of view of your pretty mouth wrapped around his tip, his hand almost immediately moves to palm his crotch. he tugs down his boxers to stroke himself to the scene of you deepthroating his cock, the sweet sound of your moans and sputters through his phone speaker making both his dick and his heart ache for you.

after some time spent desperately trying to create a cheap imitation of the pleasure you make him feel, bachira grows frustrated. it’s really unfair now that he thinks about it. how could you indulge him in all his deepest fantasies and give him the wildest hottest fucks of his life only to leave him high and dry in the end? finally giving up on cumming, covered in a thin layer of sweat, he opens his phone again in some lust fueled bravery, texting you hey can we talk?

in your apartment, you were dedicating your evening to trying not to think about all the ways you missed your ex, knowing that the first few weeks of a break up were the hardest. you stand up from the couch, breaking out of your thoughts and hoping to just distract yourself for the time being. picking up your cell was extremely counter productive in that regard, your heart jumping at a text from megs ‹𝟹. he wants to talk. seeing that the text was sent half an hour ago, you jump to reply yeah sure. when? you don’t even think before accepting, the chance to bask in his attention one more time is too tempting when missing him this much. the contact picture you set for him pops up, indicating an incoming call.

you take a breath in the tense silence, offering a somewhat unsure, “hello?” his end of the call comes to life all of a sudden, finally connecting through his current shoddy service. he sounds slightly out of breath and you hear a faint ding in the background. the grainy noises let you know that he probably wasn’t in the quiet privacy of his home as he usually would be at this time. “meguru? is now a bad time to talk?”

“no! now's a good time,” he reassures, “i’m in the elevator up to your place.”

“you’re what?”

there’s some more shuffling from him and quick footsteps that echo both from the call and the hallway outside your apartment. “open up.”

there’s apprehension floating somewhere in your mind, but the big part of you that was very much not over him moves your feet towards the door, unlocking it. as soon as the physical barrier between you and him is gone, there is a completely different tone that settles and you almost sense it before it happens when he pushes forward to crash his lips onto yours. he didn’t exactly have a plan showing up, but seeing you, there was only one thing his body wanted to do. your back collides with the wall of your entryway, one of his hands already on the back of your head to cushion the blow, his other arm coiled around your waist to press you flush against him. unaware of it, the two of you share the same thought. this is 1000 times better than being alone tonight.

“meguru.” you call out trying to gently push against his chest to create some room between you. trying to be the rational one and state the obvious facts. you broke up with him. he shouldn’t be here. it’ll just cause more heartache for the both of you. but tingles run up his back when you say his name that way, breathless as he steals all the air from you. fuels his need to hold onto you tighter and not let you go this time around. eventually you manage to get your hand over his mouth to stop him from kissing you before your resolve really breaks and you let this go too far. “megu we shouldn’t. this is hard enough as it is-”

he pries your fingers away, and just when you think he is going to say something, convince you, justify himself, he dips his head down to capture your lips again, gently sucking on the bottom one to draw out a gasp so he can shove his tongue in. greedy hands grab at your thighs, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist so he can shamelessly rut his hips against yours. he makes it hard to think straight, pulling away after a moment to stare into your eyes, giving you that signature wild look that causes your knees to go weak. “tell me you don’t want me.”

“huh?”

“look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want me.” he watches you expectantly, his impatience showing when he begins softly rocking into you. “cause we both know nobody else can make you cum like i can. let me make you feel good.”

you don’t find the strength to turn down his offer, not when you’re already panting at the affection he’s given you and soaking from the rhythmic press of his hard cock against you. bachira relishes the relief and arousal that floods through him when you wrap your arms around his neck to drag him into another sloppy kiss, and you feel his grin grow against your lips. the competitor in him recognizes a challenge, his heart pounding in perverse excitement. he has one chance to prove to you just how much you need him. lucky for you, that’s the kind of risk your ex gets off on.

CHIGIRI HYOMA is unreasonably bitter...

you and him are a perfect match, and the thought of you ever replacing him makes him sick. the egoist in him can’t stand the idea of someone stealing his role in your life. someone else taking you out, having your attention, putting their hands on you. deep down some rational part of him knows that he doesn’t stake any claim over you anymore, but the sinking pit in his stomach does nothing to alleviate the gut instinct that you’re his.

it eats at him. chigiri feels childish stalking your social media or casually asking mutual friends about you. he doesn’t want to seem affected, but he just can’t help but give into his curiosity. this same ‘curiosity’ is what leads him to hanging out in the bars he knows you frequent, either with friends or without. he hardly admits to himself that he’s hoping to run into you, but when it actually does happen, hyoma doesn’t hesitate to approach. he’s unsure if it’s the irresistible pull of being within arms reach of you again, or the selfish intuition to make his move on you before anyone else has the chance.

it seems innocent enough. he’s as charismatic and lighthearted as ever, offering to catch up, buy you a drink or two. chemistry you’ve always shared slowly surfaces through conversation. there was no denying that he had his charms, ones that hit all your soft spots just like the first time he won you over. so when he ‘accidentally’ bumps into you on your way out of the bathroom, and wraps his arms around you so you don’t fall over from tipsy imbalance, you barely even question it. being in his embrace is familiar and there is a glance shared between you with a certain spark to it that it’s only natural he leans down to kiss you. hyoma is nothing if not an opportunist, smoothly steering you back into the small bar bathroom, his lips and tongue never leaving you.

he’s panting into your mouth between hungry kisses, hands already tugging at your clothing. his teeth find your neck, sucking and biting warm bruises in his wake, eager to mark every inch of skin he can latch onto. before you get the chance to playfully tease him about crawling back to you, your body is twisted around and bent forward over the sink. your eyes dart to the mirror in front of you, meeting his smug grin as he yanks your pants and underwear down your thighs.

hyoma reaches his hand around to dip between your folds, deft fingers rubbing languid circles into your clit the way he knows you like. if it werent for the cocktails you would be embarrassed by the way you immediately melt into his touch, whimpers readily escaping you. “you’re already whining like that and i’ve barely even touched you, this pussy must’ve really missed me, huh?”

pleasure shoots up your core, arching your back at the feeling, pressing your ass into the bulge straining against his jeans. a moan bubbles up in his throat, but he’s quick to close his mouth, muffling the sound to a soft grunt, not willing to indulge you in the reactions you always seek to draw out of him. his hips push forward to grind into yours, the hard outline of his cock enough to remind you of what more you could be having instead of this PG13 dry humping session. you try to catch his gaze in the mirror, but it never leaves the place where you connect, giving you only soft thrusts while his fingers are unrelenting against your clit. “hyoma.” you manage to get out between heavy breaths. pink eyes finally travel up to meet yours. “please give it to me.”

and on a normal day, your ex-boyfriend would’ve dragged out the foreplay and teased you until you’re near tears and begging him for more, but something about the way you ask feels like a confession. that you wanted him just as desperately as he had been craving you. it sparks a fire up chigiri’s spine, wasting no time shoving the tight denim down to release himself. soon enough the tip of his pretty dick is squished against your entrance. his jaw is clenched from the restraint it takes not to immediately bury himself balls deep, grabbing your waist to keep steady.

any doubts that he had about still pining after you are gone, because the first tight clench of your cunt around his tip confirms what he’s always wholeheartedly believed. you were fucking made for him.

“god fuck,” he mutters breathily, biting down onto his bottom lip as he watches your hole swallow his entire length. his hips wind back, not getting far before the grip your walls have on him forces him to slowly sink back in. “anyone else fill you up this good, angel? get you this wet?” he asks, one of his hands grabbing hold of your hair to make you properly face him in the reflection again, wearing a cocky smirk that makes your stomach do flips.

a pout forms on your lips at his leisurely thrusts, far from enough to satisfy you, especially when you’ve seen firsthand the speed and effort he is depriving you of. “i don’t know, im getting a bit bored here princess,” you mock, despite the way you’re barely able to contain your noises as is.

without warning his pace becomes the staple unrelenting and overwhelming one you fantasize about while futilely trying to get off on your own. hyoma lets go of your hair in favor of clamping down over your mouth, loud moans already beginning to spill out around his fingers. the sight of the typically cool-headed prince losing his nonchalance, fucking you with pure ego and a savage glimmer in his eyes isn’t something you’ll easily forget. “this what you wanted? only satisfied when i fuck you stupid, right?"

ITOSHI RIN is not a fan of losing you, but loves getting you back...

rin doesn’t fall in love easily. he doesn’t know exactly how you managed it, but you barged into his life unannounced and dragged love out of him with your unrelenting company and killer smile. and rin was no willing victim either, figuratively kicking and screaming the whole way with his many cold moments and guarded emotions. in the end you won, with him wrapped helplessly around your finger. while rin would prefer to deny you any power over him, there’s a fire that burns in his chest for you that demands he give you everything he has. and he does.

but his love proves to be too much and not enough. too much in the ways of his possessive tendencies and clinginess and toxic defensiveness. and not enough in the way that it doesn’t keep you around. not that he blames you for it, although he does get the occasional bitter thought that you should’ve known to leave him alone from the start. deep down he knows he doesn’t really mean it, preferring even this pitiful longing you leave him with to the dark cloud that was his life before you. and it’s what he fears of returning to if you ever manage to fully pull away from him one day.

the first time you break up, rin admittedly doesn’t deal with it well. after endless calls and texts and showing up at your place with flowers and vulnerability, you take him back, only to return to the same arguments when his jealousy issues get out of hand. he wished he could say the second or third time went differently. fourth time around, however, rin gains some semblance of dignity and decides to keep his distance. maybe it was time to give moving on the good old college try. what other option did he have? as in love with you as he was, he couldn’t force you to stay and wasn’t well equipped to do the soul searching necessary to rid himself of all the behaviors that bothered you. maybe this was a lesson he needed to grow into the type of guy you could see yourself with. at least he intended to take that route, until you showed up at his house a few days later begging for him to forgive you for ever thinking you could live without him. he doesn’t even feel embarrassment over how easily he caves. it can’t be his fault when that night you swore you’d always belong to him while screaming his name. that same night he resolved that no matter what happened, you were it for him, and until you told him without a shadow of a doubt that you no longer loved him, he would return to you every time.

it started this viscous cycle of an on and off again relationship, fueled by passion and possession from both parties. one that rin never planned on ending as long as it was the only way he got to call you his, feeling a deep sense of comfort in the fact that you were weak for him too. that’s why he’s unsurprised hearing a knock on his door at 11PM. a new record considering it only been a day since the huge fight that caused your latest break up, not that rin was keeping count.

he has to stop himself from running to the door, because if he was honest he was thinking of grabbing his keys and heading to you minutes earlier. it doesn’t take more than a, “i’m so sorry baby,” to have him scooping you up into his arms on instinct. the familiar security of your legs wrapped around his hips, hands grabbing at your ass as he carries you to his bed, makes up for the self-loathing mess he becomes in the aftermath of every separation.

none of that other stuff matters when he gets to have you under him like this, already whining in anticipation as he peels away your bottom layers. rin can’t resist leaning in for a quick kiss to your clit before looking up at you from between your legs. a finger ghosts along your slit causing you to squirm and lean up towards the touch before one of his strong hands pushes you firmly to the bed, resting just under your navel. fortunately for you, rin is terrible at denying you the things he knows you want. especially when he’s practically drooling for you, letting the excess spit dribble out of his mouth and onto your cunt. you feel him lick long stripes from your entrance to your clit before wrapping his lips around it.

rin eats you as if it were his first meal in days. being apart from you always seemed a whole lot longer when he has to fear if you really mean it this time when you say you wanna stop seeing him. so he allows himself to be greedy, laves at your slick ravenously with a loud groan and humping his hips against the mattress to relieve his cock that’s already leaking in his boxers. your hands bury themselves in his hair, throwing your head back in pleasure as he bites down into your thigh, leaving an imprint of his teeth. “god you taste so good. you’re fucking criminal for trying to keep this perfect pussy from me.”

his free hand wanders to your core, two fingers easily slipping inside from a mix of your juices and his drool, curling to just the right spot. he sucks your clit into his mouth, your sweet moans fill the air and he has to stop his thrusts to keep himself from cumming in his pants at the sound, pulling away from you with a lewd pop. “‘ts mine,” he grunts out, “you’re fucking mine, and no one can make you feel like this but me. say it.”

“only you rin! ‘m yours!” you choke out, bucking against the pressure he puts on your stomach. satisfied with your response, he dives back in, fingers pumping into you with steady rhythm and using his tongue to lap up everything that leaks out. his intense gaze stays trained on yours with a newfound determination to make you feel so good, you’re ruined for anyone else but him.

“all mine.”

◑.◑ its honestly tempting to write a whole fic for rin…

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doctorbitchcrxft · 5 months ago

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Born Under a Bad Sign | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: mentions of religious trauma, mentions of smut, dean’s self-esteem is rly bad :(, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 6130

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Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You and Sam had always been close friends, but you became even more like siblings after your last hunt. He seemed to understand you on a deeper level after you described your battle with religion to him. You understood him and his praying practices, and you were happy he was able to find some peace through it. You’d always bonded before over cult classic movies and your shared love of learning, but you were grateful to get to know him more than just on the surface level.

Your relationship with Dean was changing, too. You knew it scared him a bit; it scared you, too. But you were grateful that you had him in your life. You’d never cared for someone before the way you cared about him. However, the two of you left that part unspoken and let your bodies speak for themselves.

Dean visited your motel room more and more frequently after Sam fell asleep at night. You knew Sam had some clue as to what was going on between you and his brother, but he hadn’t prodded into your relationship much. For that, you were thankful.

Most of the time, Dean wasn’t even coming to your room for sex. He genuinely just wanted to be close to you or talk to you. The simple intimacy of sitting on the floor and playing a few rounds of Rummy or lying in bed and holding each other close while you talked about the most mundane things was almost better than sex for you. Your life was revolving less around hunting and more around Dean, and you weren’t quite sure how to feel about that.

That was, at least, until Sam went missing.

When Dean noticed Sam was gone, he was leaving your room after staying the night with you. He burst back into the room, saying, “(Y/N), get dressed, Sam’s gone.”

“What?” You jumped up, pulling jeans on. “Whaddaya mean ‘gone’?”

“I mean he’s gone, (Y/N). He’s gone,” he responded gruffly, raking a hand through his hair.

“Wait, are you sure he didn’t just go out for coffee or something?” you questioned, trying to calm him down.

“No, dude, it’s ten A.M.,” he replied.

“Okay, well let’s call him,” you said. You pressed your phone to your ear only to find it went straight to voicemail.

“Dammit!” Dean could tell by the look on your face what happened.

*** “Dean, you really need to sleep,” you urged. His eyes had bags hanging under them and his hair was a mess from the number of times he’d run his hand over it. You couldn’t get him to sleep for more than a few hours the previous night when his body finally gave out.

You’d spent three days thus far looking for Sam and driving all over the country looking for him. You tried tracking his phone, but you had no luck. In fact, the reason why was because he’d left his phone in the Impala. Bobby and Ellen hadn’t seen or heard from him, either.

“(Y/N), I’m fine, dammit,” Dean responded harshly.

“I’m not gonna put up with you being a dick just because you’re stressed,” you shot back. “I’m worried about Sam, too. But you’re no good to him so sleep-deprived that you can’t tell your right from your left. I’m gonna start drugging you if you don’t go to bed voluntarily.”

He blinked at you, seeming curious about the last part of your statement.

“I’m kidding,” you said, pausing momentarily. “Maybe.”

He thought about your words for a minute. “Fine,” he murmured.

“Sorry? What was that?” you asked, half-mockingly.

“You heard me,” he grumbled back.

You conceded, giggling a little.

“Don’t let me sleep any more than five hours,” he told you as you pushed him toward the bed in your motel room.

“I’m not.” You were lying, though, and you had no doubt Dean picked up on that.

“(Y/N)—” he warned.

“Okay, okay. Fine. Just go to bed, asshole,” you told him, finally shoving him back on the bed.

About twenty minutes later, you’d readied for bed and headed over to Dean’s sleeping form. You sat on the bed across from him, and you brushed your hand over his hair. He breathed out contentedly, subconsciously relaxing under your touch. You smiled softly to yourself and crawled into bed next to him. You did your best not to disturb him while you got comfortable.

Fully settled, you took in his sculpted features. There were very few times you had seen Dean at peace even in his sleep, and this was not one of those times. You knew his sleep was necessary, but it was clear by the tension in his face that it was not going to be the most rested sleep in the world for him.

Even in the midst of this awful situation, there was a nagging want in your heart for Dean. You knew neither of you were in a position for a real relationship, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t want one. In fact, you knew you were beginning to fall hopelessly in love with him.

‘Fuck. I do love him,’ you thought. ‘Damnit, I am so fucked.’

“Hey, stop,” Dean muttered. “Stop!” he said, voice stronger this time.

“Dean?” you asked quietly, sitting up on your elbow.

“Fuck, stop it!” Dean cried. “Leave him alone!”

‘Oh, god, he’s gotta be dreaming about Sam,’ you thought. You began shaking him to try and wake him up.

“No, no!” he screamed, writhing under you.

“Dean!” You shook him harder.

He lurched up, grabbing your wrist and flipping you on your back. He pinned your wrist above your head.

You and Dean breathed heavily in each other’s faces, yours and Dean’s adrenaline pumping. When he realized what he was doing, he immediately let go of you.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry—” Dean began.

“Dean, it’s okay,” you told him.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, gently grabbing your hands to begin to inspect your wrists for injuries.

You let him hold your hands, assuring him, “No, no! I’m okay, really. See?”

He was silent while he caught his breath, unable to look at you. You put your hand on his cheek and guided his face up gently to make him look at you. “Dean. I’m fine. I’m not upset.”

You could see tears forming in his eyes which was likely the reason he looked away. He pulled away from you and once looked down once more. You grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly to reassure him. “I know you’re upset, but you gotta go back to bed, okay? We’re no good to Sam when we’re tired zombies,” you attempted to joke.

He said nothing, but he did lay back down with you. He turned in your hold to let you wrap your arms around his stomach and run your hands up his bare chest. You pressed kisses to the back of his shoulders, and his breathing evened out.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured so quietly you almost didn’t hear it.

It caught your attention, and you pulled his shoulder to get him to turn to you. He allowed you to roll him onto his back, and you propped yourself up on your elbow to look down at him. “Don’t ever let me hear you say that again,” you chastised as gently as you possibly could. You knew aggravation was seeping through your tone, though not at him. “I know you won’t believe me if I tell you, but you do.”

“(Y/N)—”

“No. Don’t. You are—” you cut yourself off, consistently shocked by how lowly Dean thought of himself. “I mean, I care about you. A lot. You know that.”

He nodded.

“Then why can’t you believe you’re deserving of me? I’m here, aren’t I?” you asked rhetorically. “That’s not a mistake. If anything, I feel undeserving of you.”

“What?” Dean scoffed. “Why?”

“See? See how ridiculous that sounds?”

Dean eyed you for a moment. “I see what you did there.”

You smiled, but soon returned to seriousness. “Seriously. I care about you. A lot. For… a number of reasons. I can’t believe you think you don’t deserve me. I mean, you’re Dean fucking Winchester. You— you’re so strong. You’re really just… impressive as a human being. You’re smart, and funny, and— Jesus Christ— so fucking handsome. And— hmm!”

Dean cut you off by pulling you down to him and kissing you roughly. This kiss was different than others you’d shared before. It was passionate and kind all at once, and it was clear how hungry you were for each other. When you broke the kiss, the two of you pecked each other one final time before simply resting your foreheads together.

“I was talking,” you said, breathless.

He chuckled; one that rumbled deep in his chest. “Needed to kiss you, though.”

“Oh, shut up, you just didn’t wanna listen to me talk about you anymore,” you replied playfully.

“Oh, no, I was definitely enjoying that,” he snarked.

“Sure, Jan,” you laughed. You leaned down to kiss him once more before settling back down against him.

A few minutes passed before Dean found the courage to speak again. “Hey, can you, um—”

“Spit it out, Dean, I’m tired,” you said sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Just— Nevermind.”

“No, what?” you asked, head perking up. “C’mon, what?”

“Can you… spoon me again?”

You smiled, nodding excitedly. “That’s so cute.”

“Aw, shut up,” he muttered, rolling away from you.

“I’m serious!” you said, peppering kisses along his shoulders. “I like that you let me hold you. Most guys wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he murmured, stroking your arm that was wrapped around his chest with his thumb.

You giggled, kissing his shoulder again. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“G’night, sweetheart.”

***

You spent the next several days searching for Sam. A week had passed with no word from him.

You leaned against the car next to a fidgeting Dean, hands in your pockets and staring at the ground.

“Ellen, it's me again. Any chance you've heard from him?” Dean asked into his phone. “I swear, it's like looking for my dad all over again. I'm losing my mind here… No, I've called him a thousand times, there's nothing but voicemail. I don't know where he went, or why. Sam's just gone.” His phone beeped. “Hang on,” he told Ellen.

You could see “Sam’s cell” appearing on the screen of Dean’s phone. Your posture straightened as Dean answered the phone. “Sammy? Where the hell are you? Are you okay?... Hey, hey, hey! Calm down. Where are you? Alright, don't move, I'm on my way.”

***

You burst through the door of the room Sam told Dean he was in to find Sam sitting completely motionless, staring blankly ahead.

“Sam? Hey,” Dean said, moving over to him.

“Hey, guys,” he said numbly.

You kneeled down in front of him, and Dean took the opposite side. “Are you bleeding?” you asked him, noting the blood covering his abdomen and knuckles.

Sam couldn’t look at you. “I tried to wash it off.”

Dean mumbled, “Oh, my god,” upon noticing his younger brother’s shirt.

“I don't think it's my blood,” Sam murmured.

“Whose is it?” Dean questioned.

“I don’t know.”

“Sam, what happened?” you questioned gently.

He looked up at you. “I— I don’t remember anything.”

***

You found out Sam had checked into that motel a few days ago, had been smoking, stealing liquor from gas stations, and discovered a bloody knife in the back of a car he’d stolen. Your mind reeled at why Sam could’ve possibly done this. He was not this kind of person, and yet, you were beginning to get a little afraid of him. Is this what the yellow-eyed demon was going to turn him into?

Sam seemed more shaken than you or Dean did, and your heart ached for the poor guy. You couldn’t imagine not understanding what was happening to your own mind and body. He said he couldn’t remember anything beyond a diner you stopped at in West Texas; over a week ago and right before he went missing.

Night fell as Dean drove down the highway the gas station attendant had pointed you toward, saying Sam drove off this way.

“What's going on with you, Sam? Hm? 'Cause smoking, throwing bottles at people, I mean, that sounds more like me than you,” Dean quipped.

You weren’t sure what was more shocking; Sam smoking menthols like a chimney and chucking a bottle of liquor at a gas station attendant, or the fact that he couldn’t remember the last week.

Suddenly, the younger brother perked up. “Dean, wait, right here. Turn down that road.”

“What?”

“I don't know how I know, I just do.”

Dean complied and turned down a back road onto a private property. Surrounding the house were emergency flood lights and security cameras capturing every possible angle of the home.

“Whoever lives here, I'd say they don't like surprises,” Sam noted as the three of you approached the house. You were surprised the flood lights hadn’t come on yet.

“Should we knock?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam said.

You poked your head around the corner of the house while the boys talked. You quirked your head in confusion at the sight of broken glass covering the porch beneath a shattered window. “Hey guys?”

They came over to you, and you waved your flashlight around the window.

“I'm surprised the cops didn't show. Place like this you'd think it'd have an alarm,” Dean commented.

Sam found a disabled alarm on the wall. “Yeah, you would.”

“What the fuck, man,” you muttered. You were the first to crawl into the house through the shattered window. Glass crunched beneath your boots when they hit the floor, and you waved your flashlight around the room to find turned over chairs, knocked over lamps, and broken picture frames. You shot a concerned look back at the boys before you followed the trail of displaced items to a back office. You nearly tripped over a body lying on the floor in the dark. You yelped in surprise, and Dean caught your arm before you could fall.

“Hit the lights,” he told his brother. You could hear the apprehension in his voice.

When the lights came on, you knelt next to the body. The middle-aged man was slumped on the floor on his side, and you turned him over to reveal his deeply cut throat. You put a hand over your mouth, and shot a worried glance at Dean. Dean’s eyes were on the body, widened in horror.

“I did this,” Sam breathed out.

“We don’t know that,” Dean immediately responded.

“What else do you need?” Sam scoffed. “I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood—”

You got up from the floor. “Sam, I don’t know, man, but this just doesn’t seem—” You ran a hand through your hair and turned away from him.

“Look, even if you did do this I'm sure you had a reason, you know; self-defense, uh, he was, he was a bad son of a bitch, something!” Dean was still crouched on the floor, and he patted the body down. “He doesn't have any ID.”

“I need your lockpick,” Sam said.

You and Dean eyed him strangely. “What?”

“I need your lockpick,” he repeated. He took it and opened a double door closet inside the room. It revealed another room lined wall to wall in newspaper clippings, maps, and weapons.

“Holy shit,” you murmured.

“Either this guy's a Unabomber—” Dean began.

Sam cut him off. “Or a hunter. I think I killed a hunter.”

You looked up at a security camera in the corner of the room. “Let’s find out.” Dean had taken the SD card out of the security camera and handed it over to you. You cracked the password on the man’s computer and opened the file attached to the SD card. You went back in the footage to the day before Sam checked into the motel room, and your hand flew to your mouth.

Sam was dragging the struggling man behind the desk and propped him up against himself before slitting his throat.

Dean inhaled sharply. “How do you erase this? Huh?” he questioned you.

“Already on it,” you said.

“I killed him, Dean. I just broke in and killed him,” Sam murmured.

“Listen to me. Whoever this guy is, he's a hunter. Which means that other hunters are going to come looking for his killer, which means we've got to cover our tracks, okay?” Dean said frantically.

Sam picked something up off the desk next to you while you continued working on the computer. “His name was Steve Wandell. This is a letter from his daughter.”

Suddenly, Dean grabbed the computer off the desk in front of you, slamming it to the ground beside you, making you jump. He stomped it to bits for good measure, breathing raggedly.

“Start wipin’ down your prints,” he said, handing you and Sam rags. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You and Sam were still too in shock to process what was going on. It dawned on you then that you may actually have to kill Sam. You couldn’t live with yourself if it came to that.

***

You and the brothers returned to Sam’s motel room to regroup, get some sleep, and take off before anyone could discover what Sam had done. Your mind was reeling with the possibility of having to put Dean’s brother down. You would never forgive yourself, and you knew Dean wouldn’t either.

“Alright, we get a couple hours sleep and then we put this place in our rearview mirror,” Dean asserted.

Sam remained motionless near the door.

“Look, I know this is bad, okay? You gotta snap out of it. Sam, say something!” Dean pleaded.

The younger brother’s shoulders were slumped, and his sad eyes turned up to Dean. “Just get some sleep and leave in the morning? Murder, Dean. That's what I did.”

Dean seemed to search for words for a moment. “Maybe.”

Sam scoffed.

“Okay? Hey, we don't know... shapeshifter!”

“Oh, come on. You know it wasn't, you saw the tape. There was no eye flare, no distortion—”

Dean turned away from Sam. “Yeah, but it wasn't you! Alright? I mean, yeah, it might have been you, but it wasn't you.”

Sam sat down on the bed. “Well, I think it was. I think maybe more than you know.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean grunted.

“For the last few weeks I've been having... I've been having these feelings.”

“What feelings?” you questioned, crouching to the ground in front of him while Dean continued to fume.

“Rage. Hate. And I can't stop it.” Sam couldn’t lift his gaze to you. “It just gets worse. Day by day, it gets worse.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” you asked as gently as you could.

“I didn't want to scare you.”

“Well, bang-up job on that,” Dean quipped.

“Dean, the yellow-eyed demon, you know he has plans for me. And we both know that he's turned other children into killers before, too.”

The older brother turned around, eyes blazing. “No one can control you but you.

“It sure doesn't seem like that, Dean, it feels like no matter what I do, slowly but surely I'm, I'm just becoming—” he trailed off, swallowing down his emotion.

“What?”

“Who I'm meant to be. I mean, you said it once yourself. I gotta face up to who I am,” Sam continued.

Dean threw his arms up. “I didn’t mean this!”

The brunet’s eyes got teary. “But it's still true. You know that. Dad knew that too. That's why he told you, if it ever came to this…”

“Sam, stop it,” you begged.

“You promised me, (Y/N),” Sam said sadly. “You promised.”

Dean crossed the room to you in a flash. “No. Listen to me. We're gonna figure this out. Okay? I mean, there's gotta be a way, right?”

“Yeah, there is.” Sam took a handgun from the duffel bag resting on the bed beside him and shoved it into your hand. “I don't wanna hurt anyone else. I don't wanna hurt you two.”

You jumped back from Sam, and for the first time ever, holding a gun felt uncomfortable and foreign to you.

“You won't,” Dean argued. “Whatever this is, you can fight it.”

“No. I can't. Not forever. (Y/N), you gotta do it.” Tears pooled in Sam’s eyes. He stared at you, pleading evident within his gaze.

You looked down at the gun and back at Sam.

“(Y/N), I swear, if you do this—”

“I know, Dean!” You looked up at Sam shakily. “I don’t wanna do this.”

Sam nodded. “I know.”

You looked between a torn Dean and resigned Sam. You shook your head and dropped the gun. “I can’t.”

Dean sighed in relief, and Sam stood. You shouldered past him toward the door of the room to get some air.

“That’s too bad,” you heard Sam say behind you, his voice suddenly sending a chill down your spine. The next thing you heard was Dean grunting, and you wheeled around to see him drop to the floor. Sam loomed over you next, and you tried your best to fight him off. However, you knew it was pointless. The pistol he’d given you whipped across your face powerfully, and the world went black.

***

The next time you came to, an incessant knocking was filling your ears. You heard Dean groaning a few feet away from you, and you suddenly remembered what happened.

The motel manager opened the door. “Hey. It's past your checkout.”

“What?” Dean questioned groggily.

“It's past checkout, and I've got a couple here needs your room.” The manager gestured to an embarrassed businessman with a hooker standing behind him.

Dean grumbled, “Yeah, I'll bet they do. What time is it?”

“Twelve-thirty.”

“That guy who was with us, have you seen him?”

“Yeah, he left before dawn in your car, and you should have gone with him, because now I'm gonna have to charge you extra.”

“Oh, son of a…” Dean muttered.

“It's just policy, sir.”

“We need to use your computer,” you spoke up.

The manager folded his arms. “Now, why would I let you use my computer?” *** The manager counted the stack of cash you and Dean scrounged up to pay him off for letting you two use his computer.

Your mind raced as Dean tracked his brother down on the phone with their cellular provider. What was wrong with Sam? Was this really who he was now? Who could he have possibly been going to see and why? Could he have killed another hunter? Could you have stopped it if you just pulled the trigger? Did you do the right thing?

Dean’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “(Y/N), we gotta go. Duluth, Minnesota.”

***

You and Dean drove hours in silence. Dean surprisingly hadn’t put on one of his many cassette tapes to fill the silence. Your heart in your throat and breathing labored, you were finally brave enough to offer your hand to him. You couldn’t look at him, afraid he’d maybe be angry with you or wouldn’t need your comfort, but you kept your hand on the seat between you all the same. Finally, he joined his with yours and squeezed tightly. Neither of you said a word or looked at each other, but you kept each other grounded in your completely unfathomable situation.

When you arrived at the bar you’d tracked Sam to in Duluth, you and Dean grabbed flasks of holy water from the trunk and your handguns from Dean’s glovebox; although you knew you couldn’t use the latter on Sam.

You could hear Sam talking, but you couldn’t quite tell what he was saying or who he was talking to through the door of the bar. On Dean’s count of three, the two of you burst through the door with your guns ready.

“Sam!” Dean yelled.

You noticed the person he’d been talking to was a tied-up and gagged Jo, and Sam took a knife from above her on the post she was tied to and held it to her throat. His calm expression shifted to one of desperate panic, and you suddenly realized what was happening.

“I begged you to stop me, Dean,” Sam cried.

“Put the knife down, dammit,” Dean ordered.

“I told you I can't fight it! My head feels like it's on fire, all right?! Dean. Kill me, or I'm going to kill her. Please. You'd be doing me a favor! Shoot me,” Sam ordered. He turned to you and Dean, arms spread. “Shoot me, (Y/N)! Please!”

You glanced at Jo out of the corner of your eye. “Sam, come on, dude!”

Dean turned away, lowering his gun.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam spat. “Are you seriously gonna let Jo die?” Sam went to approach his brother, but Dean turned suddenly and flicked holy water at his brother from his flask. The water hissed and steamed when it made contact with Sam’s skin.

“You son of a bitch!” you screamed, rushing at Sam. Sam’s eyes turned black and he threw you off him and into a table behind you. You cried out as your back made contact with the table and chairs, and you collapsed to the floor in a heap. You raised your head to see Sam bursting through a window and Dean cutting Jo free. You got back to your feet painfully and grabbed your gun, sprinting after Sam.

“(Y/N)!” you heard Dean call as you leapt out of the window. He soon caught up to you as you ran down the dock toward a warehouse. You knew that was where Sam— well, the demon— had gone given the swinging of its doors. You and Dean flanked either side of the door before bursting through the warehouse, pressed back to back and scanning the room. You then crouched next to him when you heard wood creak a few yards away.

“So who are you?” Dean called.

“I got lots of names,” Sam replied. His voice was quite far off.

“You've been in Sam since he disappeared, haven't you?” you spat.

“You shoulda seen your face when you thought he murdered that guy. Pathetic,” the demon called back.

“Why didn't you kill us? You had a dozen chances,” Dean replied. He motioned for you to follow him behind a tall stack of boxes to find better cover.

“Nah, that would have been too easy. Where's the fun in that? You see, this was a test. Wanted to see if I could push you or your girlfriend far enough to waste Sam. Should've known you two wouldn't have the sack. Anyway. Fun's over now,” Sam bitterly informed you.

“Well, I hope you got your kicks. 'Cause you're gonna pay hell for this, I'm gonna make sure of that,” Dean growled.

“How? You can't hurt me. Not without hurting your little brother.”

Dean put his gun away, opting for the holy water flask in his jacket. You kept your gun drawn.

“See, I think you're gonna die, Dean. You and every other hunter I can find. One look at Sam's dewey, sensitive eyes? They'll let me right in their door,” the demon laughed. You heard the back door of the warehouse open, and you and Dean quickly followed. When you reached the dock, you barely had time to register Sam standing several feet away with a gun drawn before two shots fired off; one hitting Dean and the other grazing your arm. You tumbled to the dock below from the impact, and you were knocked out cold yet again from the eight-foot drop.

***

You could just barely make out the conversation happening around you as you began to come-to from the second time you’d been knocked out by Sam. You were lying on something hard with something soft under your head, but you couldn’t quite open your eyes to figure out what was going on.

“Don't be a baby!” you heard Jo say.

“God!” Dean groaned.

You wanted to move to help him, but you still couldn’t open your eyes or move.

“Almost. Alright, got it. Got it,” Jo announced.

You heard glass clinking before Dean grunted, “God, you’re a butcher. Should’ve let (Y/N) patch me up when she comes-back-to.”

Jo scoffed. “You're welcome.”

“Alright, are we done?”

“Would you give me two minutes to patch you up? You can't help Sam if you're bleeding to death.”

“You should be payin’ more attention to (Y/N). She’s the one out cold with a bleeding head.”

‘Oh. My head’s bleeding?’ you thought. Suddenly, you could feel the blood trickling down your face. You slowly began to recognize the dim light coming from the room around you, and realized you were probably back in the bar you’d found Jo and Sam in.

“So, how did you know? That he was possessed?” Jo asked Dean.

“Uh, ah, I didn't, I just knew that it couldn't have been him.”

Jo paused for a moment, seeming hesitant to speak again. “Hey, Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“I know demons lie, but... do they ever tell the truth, too?”

“Uh, um, yeah, sometimes, I guess. Especially if they know it'll mess with your head.” He paused as you began to writhe around on the floor. “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing. Doesn't matter. So do you have any idea where he's headed to next?”

You groaned, catching Dean’s attention. “Sweetheart?”

Your heart fluttered at the name despite the throbbing in your head, arm, and back. You moaned again, shifting uncomfortably.

When you opened your eyes, Dean was above you. “You there? You okay?"

“Dee,” you smiled groggily.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m here.” He slipped a hand under your shoulders and the other under your knees. “C’mon, we gotta go find Sammy.”

“Okay,” you said, still not fully aware of what was going on.

“Wait, Dean, let me—” Jo tried.

“No, I got her,” he responded. He began to carry you toward the door.

“Where we goin’, then?” Jo asked.

“You're not coming,” he replied simply.

Jo’s voice rose. “The hell I'm not. I'm a part of this now.”

“I can't say it more plain than this. You try to follow us, and I'll tie you right back to that post and leave you here. This is our fight,” he said firmly. “I'm not getting your blood on my hands. That's just how it's gonna be.”

A few moments of silence passed, and Dean began walking again. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

In your heart, you knew he wouldn’t. You’d call Jo and thank her for helping you and Dean.

You finally had full cognitive function back when Dean got you to the car. He gingerly reached out to your still bleeding head wound. He sucked in air through his teeth. “I’m gonna patch you up, okay?”

You nodded.

He immediately set to work. “Hey, uh—” he paused, seeming to search for what he needed to say, “—what was that… concussion-check-thing you did on me? Back when we dealt with that freaky ass scarecrow?”

You grinned at the memory. “I don’t think you need to check, Dean, I definitely have a concussion,” you said.

“I still wanna see how bad it is,” he told you.

“It’s not awful,” you said. “But I’ll be down for the count for a bit.”

You were suddenly wide awake when you felt hydrogen peroxide hitting your arm where Sam’s bullet grazed you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, I’m not,” you admitted.

Dean finished patching up the wound on your head, a comfortable silence settling between you. “Thanks for not shooting my brother,” he mumbled.

You snorted. “Yeah, of course.”

He paused again. “Why didn’t you?”

You considered before responding truthfully. “Couldn’t live with myself if I did. Couldn’t live with myself if you hated me.”

He searched your eyes before slowly leaning in to kiss you. You leaned in, too, stretching your neck up to meet his lips. His kiss was gentle and conveyed everything the two of you couldn’t say verbally.

“Alright, c’mon, we gotta go get Sam,” Dean said. “He’s goin’ to Bobby’s.” ***

“Stay here,” Dean told you. He left the windows rolled down on the Impala to keep some air moving through it while he went into Bobby’s house to confront Sam.

You went to protest, but your aching limbs proved to you that you would be completely useless.

Dean chuckled at you as you wordlessly settled back into your chair. “Atta girl.”

Minutes felt like hours as you waited for Dean to emerge from the house. You knew Bobby was smart enough to figure out Sam was possessed and had likely ensnared him in a Devil’s Trap. Still, that didn’t stop you from worrying about your boys.

A cool breeze carried Dean’s scream of agony through the car, and you immediately jumped to your feet despite the protesting in your back and head. Your vision nearly whited out when you stood up, and the light of day was too bright for you. Still, you were fueled by the thought of Dean being hurt and stumbled your way into Bobby’s house. When you finally made it inside, Dean and Sam were lying on the floor, each writhing in pain, and Bobby was holding a hot poker.

“I thought I told you to stay in the car, (Y/N),” Dean groaned.

“I thought—” you cut yourself off. “Nevermind.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, kid, but you look like hell,” Bobby told you.

You laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Bobby then made you lie down on his couch and you threw your arm over your eyes to block out the light. You heard Sam and Dean patching each other up, and Bobby asked a question that caught your attention. “You kids ever hear of a hunter named Steve Wandell?”

“Why do you ask?” Dean replied.

“Just heard from a friend. Wandell's dead. Murdered in his own house. You wouldn't know anything about that.” You could tell what Bobby was meaning from his tone.

“No, sir, never heard of the guy,” Dean said before Sam could.

“Good,” Bobby stated firmly. “Keep it that way. Wandell's buddies are looking for someone or something to string up, and they're not going to slow down to listen to reason. You understand what I'm saying?”

“We better hit the road,” Dean said. “We should get (Y/N) one of those fancy sleep mask things for her to sleep in the car.”

“How ‘bout just a pair of sunglasses, Dean,” you deadpanned. You could hear Sam chuckling as footsteps approached; you could tell they belonged to the older brother.

“Here. Take these.” You weren’t sure what Bobby was referring to given you refused to take your hand off your face for even a second.

“What are they?” Sam questioned.

“Charms. They'll fend off possession. That demon's still out there. This'll stop it from getting back up in ya.”

“That sounds vaguely dirty, but uh, thanks.” Dean’s chest rumbled against you as he spoke, and you relaxed into his hold.

“You're welcome. You kids be careful now. And (Y/N), take care of yourself.”

You made a thumbs-up gesture in Bobby’s general direction without uncovering your eyes, earning a chuckle from all three men.

***

You slept most of the drive in the backseat. You were in and out of consciousness and couldn’t quite string together the conversations Sam and Dean were having. However, you paid close attention to their latest interaction.

“I was awake for some of it, Dean,” said Sam. “I watched myself kill Wandell with my own two hands; I saw the light go out in his eyes.”

“That must have been awful,” the older brother replied.

“That's not my point. I almost carved up Jo too. But no matter what I did, you wouldn't shoot. Neither would she,” Sam noted.

“It was the right move, Sam. It wasn't you,” Dean argued.

“Yeah, this time. What about next time?”

“Sam, when Dad told me... that I might have to kill you, it was only if I couldn't save you. Now, if it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna save you.”

You loved how much Dean cared about his little brother.

Dean laughed softly after a moment.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Dude, you— you like, full-on had a girl inside you for like a whole week.” He laughed again, as did Sam. “That's pretty naughty.”

You smiled to yourself as sleep claimed you once more.

***

Somewhere between state lines, you and the Winchesters were stopped to rest at a motel. Thoughts swam in your head as you thumbed the amulet Bobby had given the three of you for protection from future possessions. Suddenly, you slapped lightly against your forehead.

"Guys!" you exclaimed.

Both brothers startled.

"Tattoos!" You stood excitedly.

"Sweetheart, what are you—"

You began to pace around. "I've been tryin' to think of a way to make these amulets more permanent. How 'bout tattoos?"

Sam hesitated, but nodded eventually. "You're a genius. Why didn't I think of that?"

" 'Cause I'm smarter than you." You playfully stuck your tongue out at them.

And so, the three of you set off to find a tattoo parlor. Each of you got the amulet's symbol tattooed on you; the boys on their chests, and you on your hip. Dean was very clearly excited about the placement of the piece.

"Control yourself, please," you scolded while the artist worked.

"Tryin'," Dean replied.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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lalunanymph · 2 years ago

Text

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐆𝐎

↳ a foul-mouthed, aggressive, pro-soccer player on the verge of being disqualified from the biggest game of his life, is tossed into a fake relationship with a spoiled heiress to salvage their bad public reputation. what exactly could go wrong?

𖨆♡𖨆 itoshi rin x fem!reader

cw. fake dating, mentions of alcohol, explicit smut, unprotected sex, angst, mentions of death, mentions of cheating, violence (not towards reader), arguments

masterlist | playlist

#4: BABY BOY

Soccer superstar, Itoshi Rin, and influencer, L/N Y/N, debut their brand new relationship—exclusive photos and interviews here!

The headline in Anri’s grasp could’ve burned your retinas off. The editors really went above and beyond to design it such that anyone passing by a newsstand could catch sight of it even when they were a few feet away. Not to mention the searing image of you and Rin brazenly locking lips on the cover.

Your social media was blowing up with mentions, and so were your group chats. Junni herself hadn’t stopped calling you since this morning. You had let every single one of her calls go to voicemail; it was far too early to deal with her shrieking and endless questions.

No doubt she would scold you for leaving her in the dark, and comment on how you were such a bad friend for not telling her the truth.

Your eyes darted around the meeting room, landing on Rin’s who quickly averted his gaze. His long lashes cast shadows onto his placid expression, and next to him, Ego looked extremely pleased as he peered into his iPad.

“The organisers are asking me whether this news is real,” the megalomaniac behind Blue Lock chortled. “I suppose we’ll see a new surge of investors for the Silver Strikers soon, huh, L/N-san?”

Your father’s discomfort was palpable, and you could sense how hard he was trying to not glance at the front spread of you passionately kissing Rin, preferring to clear his throat and look Ego in the eyes instead. “Yes, Ego-san. We’ve received a few interesting queries.”

“Good, good.”

Anri picked the magazine up and stuffed it into her briefcase. The PR manager who had roped the two of you into this mess in the first place excitedly waved his phone.

“Y/N-san and Itoshi-san are trending on Twitter!”

Everyone scrolled through their phones, excited to witness the fruits of this unexpected arrangement, except you and Rin.

The silence was suffocating in this tiny room, and you could hear the gears in every player’s head spinning, wondering how they were going to orchestrate the next appearance of their two favourite pawns.

“Well,” Daichi pursed his lips and set his phone down. “It appears our plan has worked, Ego-san.”

You tried not to flinch when he patted your shoulder heavily. “Y/N, are you still comfortable resuming this fake relationship for a little while longer?”

Unbidden, your eyes darted straight to Rin’s who was staring at you from across the table. Silently waiting for your answer. You were tongue tied, caught between selfish desire and the uncertainty of Rin’s true feelings for you. He hadn’t exactly told you what he thought about this sudden wrench thrown into the fake relationship, and you didn’t want to presume anything.

“U-um… what does Itoshi-san have to say about it?”

Everyone expected Rin to rebuke your words with a rude remark as characteristic of his blunt nature. But, to everyone’s surprise, he just scoffed and leaned back into his chair, turning his impassive eyes towards the outside window. “You can make that decision yourself, Y/N. You don’t have to look to me for guidance.”

This day was spinning deeper and deeper down the web of confusion. Your pretend lover had on a black turtleneck to hide the marks you left on his pale throat the night before, and you had slapped on so much concealer on your own neck, you were terrified that the heat might’ve made the makeup run down; revealing the stark truth of how you and Rin had both slept with each other the night before.

You could not imagine the mortification your father would face if he found out.

Despite Rin’s hot and cold attitude, and the sudden dizzying reality of the ball he placed firmly in your court, you did not possess an ounce of common sense when you nodded, forsaking rationality for the sudden impulsion to continue on with this charade. To stoke the curiosity burning within you to see what would eventually happen if you and Rin were given more time to get to know each other.

“I’m okay with carrying on this relationship.”

The meeting was shortly adjourned. Your father stayed back to speak to you, and you noticed the fine lines on his face; the stress from this unprecedented deal showing up on his expression, clear as day.

“Is he treating you well?”

The marks on your neck seemed to burn, reminding you of the debauchery you and Rin participated in before this untimely meeting. You nodded meekly.

“He’s nice, tou-san. He respects my boundaries.”

Daichi could only purse his lips and nod. After all, you were a legal, consenting adult and this was your contribution to help the Silver Strikers regain their footing back in the soccer world.

There was little he could do to dissuade you from changing your mind, and he had a good sense that you were not going to until your duty was done.

“Your freakishly long arms are taking up half the bed—”

“No, they’re not,” he scowled fiercely, and the effect would’ve been more severe if he wasn’t dressed in a grey shirt with an owl motif embossed on his right pec. Fresh from the shower after practice, it was customary for Rin to cuddle up to you throughout the night until you both fell asleep, and on most days, you were grateful for his broad frame and warmth. But, on days like these when you were prickly from a lack of sleep and the piling deadlines, you chose to complain about his tall physique.

“You are, too! I can't even breathe at night with you smothering me.”

His scowl deepened when he noticed your lips curving upwards into a smile; until it hit him that you were only teasing.

“Like you were complaining last night when you told me to go quote unquote harder please.”

Your cheeks warmed and you tittered, unable to look him in the eye. “That was last night. This is now. Please move a little to the side, I need some space to breathe.”

Rin rolled his eyes, but did as you asked him to. You rewarded his gruff acceptance by slinging your arm around him and scooting closer to his side of the bed, sighing in contentment when you curled into his embrace.

Though he was the shyer of you both, and did not initiate physical contact much, you were the bolder one with your desires and demanded he sleep with you in the bedroom after what had transpired between the both of you two weeks ago. No more transiting to the couch or alternating between it.

Itoshi Rin was glued to your hip whether he liked it or not.

And in this instant, he wasn’t sure if he did.

“I give you the damn blanket every night,” he mumbled under his breath, expression souring. You poked at his mounting temper, kicking it up a notch with a giggle.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” You kissed his cheek in apology and he scoffed, but begrudgingly nuzzled his face into your neck.

Affection was an unfamiliar language to Itoshi Rin. It mocked him with twists and turns he could not quite keep up with; a fleeting butterfly he often lost in the thick foliage which hid his true heart from the world. Unlike soccer where he was well-versed with its techniques and numerous quirks, love was something Rin failed to grasp; it was something which his fast legs and swift mind could not conquer. Love did not have a score nor did it have a goal. It existed outside of his talent and conceited achievements.

The last time anyone had remotely even paid any attention or affection to him was when he was too young to understand anything but his determination to bask in Sae’s shadow.

That was before the incident.

Before Rin found out that even the biggest of stars in the universe can seem small when its back was turned away from him.

Your close proximity remedied some pockets of the numbness. Gave him back a smile or two thrown in your direction when you weren’t looking. The steadiness of your affection. Your open acceptance of his temper, sour behaviour and snappish mannerisms.

You didn’t judge him when he woke up in the middle of the night, back ramrod straight and a faraway look in his eyes as the memory of that snowy night replayed through his subconscious mind like an insidious record player. Reminding him of his inferiority; his lack of worth. Reminding him of the brother he lost.

Rin? Are you okay? You mumbled in the thick of the night, reaching for him. He didn’t respond, and all you did was bring him back into your arms, letting him rest his head in the crook of your neck. The effect was immediate: his rigid shoulders loosened; his breath steadied and the nausea churning anxiously in his stomach calmed at your touch. S’bad nightmare, that’s all. Your steady fingers massaging his scalp brought him back down to the ground. You were just dreaming.

Sometimes, Rin wondered just what you saw in him.

He ruminated on those thoughts when you were sitting opposite of him, preparing breakfast, or when you were rattling on about another campaign which you were hesitant to take up. You would always look at him, gauge his reaction, and wait for his response. Sometimes, you would smile at his retort or roll your eyes.

Rin didn’t care about anything else like Ego’s barely veiled threats for him to sharpen his form before the World Cup or Anri chasing him down for yet another pointless interview which took precious time out of training. As long as you kept on looking at him like he meant something to you. Like he was someone important. He didn’t care what life threw at him so long as he could come home and shed off the unbearable weight of his world in your arms.

You understood how demanding his career as a soccer superstar was, and didn’t question him whenever he came home late, bruises and cuts littering his calves. With this blossoming relationship, it was easier to commit to the charade when altruistic actions started cropping up. Like when you would dab medication onto his open wounds and ice his sore muscles until he was no longer achy. Or, when he would come back home from the gym, sweaty yet still incredibly good-looking, leaving you tongue-tied on the couch when he asked you what was wrong.

Rin knew the emotions were piling up. He knew he could no longer hide them.

But, he was hopeless to even try.

In public, Rin and you no longer hesitated to take the other’s hand, solidifying this front of two individuals madly in love with one another. The paparazzi went wild, predictably, and the conversation of Rin’s bad behaviour on the fields and your raging drunk scandal went under the radar. Sometimes, a sceptical netizen would bring up the untimely coincidence of this relationship with Rin’s mounting disrepute in the soccer world, but Ego and his team managed to shut it down by downvoting the comment until it was forced to be removed from forum boards.

During the day, you and Rin would lead your own separate lives, but nights were when you both found each other again.

A comforting routine began to grow: wake up beside each other, drink coffee in companionable silence, and head out to work or practice. At night, you would either prepare dinner with his help or order takeout. Sometimes, you two would make love, and the other times, you would just rest in each other’s embraces, talking about everything and nothing at all.

Rin would let you do most of the talking, preferring to listen. You discerned which topics were safe to bring up (soccer, his annoying teammates), and which ones you should never touch with a ten foot pole (Sae, his parents, his earlier years). As infuriating as it was to try and get to know Itoshi Rin, you respected his boundaries and didn’t demand for more than you were given.

The lines of both your lives grew even more intertwined, and what stemmed once from deception soon grew into something you feared was real.

You couldn’t imagine waking up in the mornings without Rin’s mop of dark green hair splayed out across your pillow, or not feeling the warm puffs of his breaths on your shoulder. Neither could you fathom who you were as a person months ago without his signature cup of coffee on the kitchen island to greet you after your morning shower.

Didn’t someone say once that the more time you spent with a person, the more of their mannerisms you would adopt?

You had started to adapt to Rin’s morning routine of jogging for an hour, but you did it in the comfort of your home gym once he was out for practice. You started to notice your expensive conditioner leaving your shower shelf into his own, a telltale effect from a bout of bickering when you were mortified he did not condition his hair after shampooing it.

More often than not, you found yourself missing him a little too much, and resorted to wearing his soccer jersey around the house while you cleaned up and perused your social media for more content ideas.

The door clicked open at the same moment you glanced up from your phone, suddenly panicking. Rin didn’t know all about your sneaky tactics in wearing his jerseys (since he has so many around this house, anyway) and it was too late for you to change. He walked in and found you about to stand from the sofa, wide-eyed and frozen to the spot. His teal gaze raked down your figure, immediately recognising his Blue Lock jersey.

“Huh,” he murmured, setting his gym bag down onto the floor. “What’re you doing with that?”

You brought your legs to your chest, suddenly feeling defensive. “I-I didn’t have enough shirts because… because—you! You forgot to do the laundry. So, I was forced to wear this.”

Rin narrowed his eyes at your accusation, not believing a single word of it. “Oh, yeah? Guess what, dummy? You were the one who was supposed to do laundry this week.”

Hook, line and sinker.

He had you cornered and unable to give another flimsy excuse.

You huffed and stood up, which was a mistake because his sharp eyes immediately zeroed in on your bare thighs.

“Are you… not wearing…?”

He couldn't finish his words. You scoffed, and foolishly lifted the hem of his jersey to show him the tiny shorts you wore underneath. “No. Did’ya think I’m that much of a flirt? Calm your horniness down, loser.”

Were you intentionally trying to get a rise out of him?

His cock throbbed behind his gym shorts, and Rin was painfully aware of how pretty you looked, glaring at him in nothing but his jersey; your pebbling nipples catching his sharp eyes and stealing his last coherent thought.

Well, if you were trying to get him mad, it was working.

Adrenaline and testosterone from today’s training session reared its head again, and he made it to your side of the room in swift strides, sweeping you into his embrace and crashing his lips down on yours.

Rin kissed you like he was deprived of oxygen, and you reciprocated with a sharp gasp, your smaller fingers twining in his hair. He lifted you into his arms, and in a dizzying haze of his freakish strength, he held you with one arm while the other ripped your shorts off—actually ripped it, the fabric burn searing your skin—and filled you in one quick thrust with his cock.

He bounced you up and down his length using his sheer size, bringing out your sweet noises that rattled around the room.

“Rin!” you moaned into his ear and he grunted, thighs starting to shake. “Oh, fuck—so good! You—mhm—fuck me s’good!”

He finished you on the couch and you rode him till your thighs burned, still clad in his jersey and with his thumb lodged in your mouth. When you finally reached your high, you slumped onto his chest, tired and sated. Rin was breathing hard, unable to open his eyes, mind running on a cocktail of oxytocin and calm.

“Can I keep this?” your small mumble knocked him back to reality. He opened his eyes to find you fingering the hem of the polyester shirt which was drenched with your sweat. Rin merely nodded, not sure why the sight of your warming face made his stomach flip like he had just scored a risky goal.

“Go ahead.” It looks better on you, anyway. He didn’t have the nerve to utter that last part out loud.

Rin and you were growing much more comfortable around each other that it started to scare you; you had no doubt it was scaring him, too.

One day, you woke up to find the bed empty, and you scoured the penthouse in search of him only to find your cup of coffee in the kitchen, standing forlornly without Rin’s curt good morning greeting attached to it. He had texted you that he had to head to the training centre earlier, and you didn’t see him until midnight.

The dinner you prepared for him was left untouched in the microwave the day after, and you fumed as you cleaned up the mess, poisonous thoughts swirling in your mind. Most of all, you felt unappreciated. Was it so hard for him to clean up after himself?

But, you tried to be patient; you really did.

Rin was busier than you were now with the World Cup approaching, and his training was often rigorous and time-consuming.

He became more snappier with you, sour mood darkening the walls of this penthouse that it often left you suffocated.

You were halfway glad when your manager gave you a campaign which had to be shot in the next week before the launch of the World Cup. At least it gave you the excuse to escape these insufferable walls.

The moment you stepped into the studio, you were surprised to find a familiar face.

“Aiku?”

The famous Munchen player who you once had lunch together with during a soccer conference snapped his head up from scrolling through his phone, a bright smile growing on his face when he realised it was you; his dual-hued eyes sparkling in recognition.

“Eh, Y/N. What’re you doing here?”

You set your bag down with a tight smile and gestured to the setup. “I’m the talent for today. What about you?”

His chuckle was warm and welcoming, taking you back with its familiarity. “I’m one of the talents, too.”

Oliver Aiku, according to Junni, was a flirtatious red flag walking on two legs. And you could see why; he had the charm and looks, his status as one of Japan’s top players leaving little room for his confidence to falter.

In short, he was a man who had it all.

You were halfway embarrassed to stand before him in a skimpy dress while he was in his soccer gear; the both of you making small talk as the production house rushed around to get the set fit for filming. According to your manager, this was a commercial to boost Munchen’s brand presence as the World Cup date approached.

Though you were tied to Rin in a fake relationship, there was nothing in your contract which stated you could not work with another team. Besides, you were sure Rin wouldn’t mind you play-acting as his teammate’s love interest.

The filming began, and you had to take a few shots with Aiku, which led you sitting on his lap, clapping for joy when he scored a goal on the fake TV screen they were going to superimpose with his image of a fantastic bicycle kick later on in post-production.

The shoot dragged on, bottomless and exhausting. I want to sleep. You were completely tired by the end of it when Oliver entered your dressing room. He leaned against the door, smiling at you with his arms crossed as you slipped your earrings back on and grimaced from a sudden pang of hunger.

“Heard about your relationship with Sae’s lil bro. Congrats, by the way.”

You shot him a smile, relaxed in his presence. Oliver had an aura about him that you could trust, despite his reputation with women.

“Thank you. We’re really happy.”

Perhaps it was the slight crack in your tone or the flickering glimmer of your eyes which made it easy for Oliver zeroed in on your true unhappiness. “Hey,” he frowned, dual-colour eyes shining with concern. “Is everything alright?”

You don’t dare to speak in case you may break down and place an unfair burden on a stranger’s shoulder. Oliver and you weren’t exactly close, and despite how comfortable you felt with him, it gave you no right to spill the secrets of your relationship to a man who was, for all intents and purposes, Blue Lock’s rival. You were sure you would be in deep trouble with your father and Ego if word got out about the true nature of your connection with the youngest Itoshi.

In answer, you smiled brighter and nodded.

Oliver sensed through your brooding silence that this topic was off limits and offered you his help in other ways. “Can I walk you back to your car?”

You had parked in the basement of this building and night was already here. Nobody would bat an eye if he escorted you back to your car, concerned for your safety. Oliver remained a safe distance from you, and you were grateful for his silence, suddenly lost in the workings of your inner thoughts.

“Hey,” Oliver spoke up suddenly. You turned to find his roguishly handsome features speckled with a teasing smile. “If Rin ever gives you hell, tell me, ‘kay? I’ll put in a word with Sae to straighten him out.”

Despite your apprehension on talking about your fake relationship with someone intimately in Rin’s world, you smiled. “Rin is a gentleman,” you rebuked his offer with a dainty laugh. “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

Aiku smiled. “Okay.” He opened the door for you and you slid in with a nod of thanks. “Drive safe, Y/N. I hope we’ll meet each other soon.”

Your answering grin was doused with warmth, and you nodded again. “See you soon, Oliver.”

The moment you stepped into the penthouse, exhausted from the heavy traffic and today’s shoot, you sensed something pugnacious in the air. The sensation curled in your stomach like a dreadful cold tendril, and it was exacerbated when you noticed Rin sitting on the sofa, his features hidden by the half-light. He didn’t greet you, awfully silent; toying with his phone, its dim screen casting shadows on his defined face.

When he heard the door close, he stood up.

You paused in the hallway, unsure if you should approach him. If it was even safe to do so.

The distance he put between you two yawned like a chasm, beckoning you to be consumed by the abyss. You wanted to stare into it, to goad it into a reaction so he could at least tell you what was bothering him inside.

“Heard you had a video shoot with Aiku,” he muttered without preamble. Even wrapped in the shadows, his teal eyes shone brightly, though you weren’t privy to the smouldering emotion behind them.

“Yeah,” you frowned and set your keys down on the console table. “It was for Munchen’s promo. Why?”

You sensed he was struggling with some huge emotion he could not put into words. Rin’s passive expression twisted into a glare, but it wasn’t the scowls you were used to which were given in a playful context. He genuinely looked pissed at the thought of you together with Aiku.

“Isn’t it in breach of the contract?”

You inwardly flinched from the vitriol in his tone.

Your mind raced in circles, palms going clammy. Confrontation was not your forte.

“It’s not,” you tried to argue back feebly. “I checked the contract with my father. He said it was okay for me to—”

“Didn’t you think to ask me, too?” Rin demanded.

You took a step back, shocked from his sudden outrage. “Rin. W-Why should I ask you for permission? We’re not together. I can do anything I want and so can you.” The second you spoke those words, regret washed over you like a huge tidal wave. Rin’s expression, once brimming with anger, shut down on itself. Losing its spark.

His neutral gaze raked over your sweatpants and hoodie-clad figure, teal eyes inscrutable. “I see.”

Rin did not say anything else. You watched, rooted to the spot when he picked up his keys and wallet, heading for the front door. Something irrational clawed up your throat, and you took one step forward to grip his elbow.

To your surprise, he tugged it back with a huff, spinning around to glare at you. “Fuck off, Y/N,” he snarled, his words leaving a huge blow to your composure. Your lower lip wobbled, and your eyes misted over with tears.

“R-Rin—”

“Don’t fucking cry for me,” he continued in his noxious anger. “You said it yourself. We’re not together. So, don’t cry for me like I’m your lover.”

You thought it would be the extent of his spiteful actions, but Rin bulldozed through your emotions, barely caring where his hostile words landed.

“You’re nothing but a nuisance to me. I can’t believe I let this agreement go on for this long. I should’ve ended it in that meeting room. You make me want to fucking puke.”

A sob slipped past your lax lips, and you were trembling from head to toe. “Rin… stop this—w-we’re still a team.” Your words were faint and feeble, easily swept aside by his venomous anger.

“Maybe you believed we had something special but to me, you’re nothing but a pathetic little brat who relies on daddy for everything. Sickening. Get the hell away from me. I want this arrangement to end now. Get out of my sight.”

Your soul was aching, your entire body hurting like someone had put you through a hurricane.

“Rinny… please don’t say that,” you mumbled tearfully, reaching for him again, only to be pushed aside. His pretty features were contorted into such a terrifying glare, you were sure your chest would cave in from the agony.

He didn’t bother to reply. Turning around sharply and wrenching the door open, he slammed it closed, leaving alone in your crumbling despair.

You didn’t know how long you stood there, staring at the door. Waiting for him to come back. Waiting for him to apologise for his unfair treatment. Just waiting for him to reappear again so you could give him a piece of your mind.

When you finally snapped out of it and staggered onto the sofa, eyes still peeled on the door, you noticed the wall clock telling you it was close to three in the morning.

And he still had not come home.

“I heard him say she was an inconvenience,” the voice from the locker room stopped you short.

You hadn’t slept a wink the night before, and your swollen eyes were hidden behind a pair of shades. When morning came, and Rin was still missing, you convinced yourself to try again; to apologise for your rashness when the voices of his teammates stopped you short.

Perhaps it was a mistake to search for him at the Blue Lock facility.

“Can’t believe he ended it so suddenly.”

“Heard he went to a bar last night—that’s a first,” another man snorted. “But then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if he went back home with another chick. Itoshi has always been a bastard.”

Someone clicked their tongue. “She deserves better. Anyway, what’s for lunch—?”

You took a step back, suddenly feeling out of place. How easily your budding emotions for Rin were cast aside as gossip for the day.

The fluorescent lights were far too garish, tunnelling into your blurry vision. Holding back your tears, hoping they would not fall, you had the worst luck to bump into Anri herself. She chirped a hello, only for you to push past her with a low mumble of how busy you were.

Uncaring that you would be perceived as a rude bitch, you hurried back to your car, slamming the door closed as you finally let the dam burst. Your loud sobs ricocheted around the interior, hidden behind the heavily tinted windows, and you held onto your torso, bleeding out the pain you held on for the whole night.

While you were tossing and turning, trying to reach him and apologise, Rin had discarded you like you didn’t mean a thing; running into the arms of another girl. Running away from you.

But, what did you expect?

Itoshi Rin was a cruel bastard on and off the field. He didn’t care about anyone else but himself. An egotistical man through and through.

A man incapable of love.

Why did you even think he would care for you?

That this whole thing was real?

You were surprised he did not evict you from the penthouse. At the thought, you summoned enough inner strength to straighten your glasses back on and slowly reverse out of the facility, heading straight to your father’s office.

The moment you entered, he could tell something was wrong. Daichi set down his pen, gazing at you in concern.

“Darling?”

From your rumpled clothes to your swollen cheeks, every line on your weary figure spoke of a palpable heartbreak.

“I want to end this arrangement.” You didn’t care if Rin had reached out to him first. Or, if Ego would skin your father alive for prematurely dashing their grand plan. You wanted nothing to do with Itoshi Rin anymore.

Daichi removed his glasses and set them down on the desk, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Let me guess. A fight?”

You stared at the carpet underneath your sneakers, saying nothing.

After a few more moments of your stubborn silence, Daichi relented. “Fine. I will tell Ego this is over. I—”

“I’m sorry,” you finally mumbled, at least having the face to apologise for ruining your father’s carefully constructed plan to save the Silver Strikers. “I tried, tou-san. I really did. But, he’s—we’re—not able to pretend anymore.”

Daichi’s expression fractured in concern when tears started to bead on your lash line. “Darling, I’m not angry with you. Screw the investors. If you’re unhappy, we’ll end this stupid fake relationship.” He stood up, and the scent of his Old Spice cologne made your nose tickle as he got closer, especially when he pulled you into his tight embrace. “I was against this in the first place. Itoshi is not a good man. I’m sorry for forcing this on you. This agreement is over.”

You sniffed, and nodded, grateful for his swift compassion. It was the least you deserved after last night’s ordeal. “Thank you, tou-san.”

Your father let you go, and scrutinised your expression. “What do you need now?”

What did you need now?

You could not think clearly, your thoughts replaying his snarl in your mind, your chest achingly empty. But, Daichi was a man of action, and he needed to know what to do next.

“I want to remove my things from that penthouse,” you decided in a soft, hoarse voice. “Then, I’ll figure out my next move.”

Daichi peered at you without a hint of emotion on his weathered face. Eventually, he nodded. “Okay. I’ll get the movers to help out. Do you want me to inform Ego?”

Honestly, you couldn’t give two shits if Rin’s coach found out the truth. You wanted nothing more than to remove yourself from this situation as fast as you could. So, you shrugged, and your father knew it was wise not to push you into making any more decisions.

He let you leave the office without another word, and you tearfully went back to the penthouse, unsurprised to find Rin still missing. Pain wore you down when you figured out that he was actively avoiding you. Sure, it made things easier, but you wished—on some level—that he would fight for you. Come back to you.

Was it a lot to ask for?

Stuffing your clothes in your luggage bag, you paused when the soft material of his jersey grazed your fingertips. Such a simple, innocuous item had the power to flood you with memories; the time he came back home and found you lounging around in this same shirt, the nights you cuddled next to him wearing this jersey.

If we were just pretending, why did it feel so real?

The answer to that question would elude you.

Just like Rin’s presence and how easily he took back his affection like it didn’t matter—like you didn’t matter.

Maybe some things in life would remain indecipherable.

So, you packed his jersey with your clothes, and switched off the lights on your way out the front door, leaving this arrangement behind—leaving him behind.

After all, you weren’t obligated nor welcomed to keep on trying when he had made it abundantly clear he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore.

The sound of clashing metal on metal rang loudly in his ears.

Rin caught the ball before it could evade his pass, and aimed for another goal. A buzzing sound went off when it careened right into the net, and his overall score increased, albeit slower than his performance yesterday.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could distinguish a figure making its way down the artificial green grass, and paid them no mind. His thoughts were tangled up, bunched together into one Gordian knot. Rin slipped a little on a wet patch on the ground and the ball skidded from his grip, his distracted thoughts causing his unwavering composure a great price.

He missed the inside of the goalpost by a few inches.

“Fuck,” he spat, straightening his wonky leg.

“You okay?”

Rin tried hard to not roll his eyes. Of course, it would be fucking Isagi Yoichi who came to check up on him. He did not reply, preferring to retrieve the ball and start on a few dribbles, pretending Isagi was not even there.

“Is your leg working right?”

What a dickhead. Rin was forced to swallow down his anger, Ego’s voice echoing in the back of his mind.

One more foul, Itoshi, and you’re bench warming the World Cup until I say you can hit the field.

The warning was clear—play nice or get the fuck out of Blue Lock. And Rin could not lose his golden ticket to beat Sae at his own game.

“Yeah,” he grumbled, loud enough for the dweeb to hear him from his corner of the field.

“The other guys are worried.”

Rin didn’t stop bouncing the ball between his two nimble feet, aiming it straight for the goal—and missing it again.

The blood roared in his ears, and he was close to snapping someone’s neck. That someone being Isagi if the other man did not stop talking. He needed to fucking focus, for fuck’s sake. Why couldn’t anyone figure that out?

No. All they were obsessed about was to get him to open up about his stupid fucking feelings and how he was handling this stupid breakup which wasn’t even a breakup in the first place because he wasn’t even together with that lukewarm loser and she had the fucking nerve to walk out without telling him—take her shit and leave their home like he fucking owed her an explanation and—

Rin missed the goal again.

A loud, frustrated roar ripped past his throat, and Isagi was far too close—caught up in the eye of his storm. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Rin’s fists were balled on the front of his shirt, and Isagi’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Itoshi—”

His words were cut off from a swift crack to his jaw. Isagi sputtered and staggered back, holding his bloody nose. “What the fuck—?!”

Someone tackled him to the ground and more men joined in the fray to stop this brawl from fleshing out.

Rin was hauled onto his feet, a pair of steel arms holding him back. He could see nothing but red; taste nothing but the need for revenge coating the back of his throat. Mikage fucking Reo had pushed himself in between the two men, rapid calls for a ceasefire clamouring above Isagi’s snarls to let him go.

The bloodlust wafting from the other man should’ve given him pause, but Rin was ready. He wanted Isagi to snap—to land a swift blow either on his face or gut. He was waiting for a strike so he had an excuse to batter the shorter man to the ground. Get an excuse to take out the horrible, sticky grief in his soul which could not find an outlet from his scarred heart.

Nagi was the only one strong enough to hold Rin back, and for a split second, he resented how that lazy white-haired fucker could put in the effort when he wanted to.

Their imminent brawl was stopped by Anri’s panicked voice stretching across the field.

“Boys! Calm down!” She managed to take over Reo’s part, though her efforts were in vain when Isagi and Rin did not stop staring the other down, teeth bared, trying to rough out of the arms holding them back.

“Itoshi. Isagi. Stand down—both of you.”

Ego’s drawl reached both their heated ears, and knocked some semblance of rationalism into them both. Isagi was the first one to take a step back, the rivulet of red running down his face standing out harshly like a cracked fissure on his skin. Bachira eventually let his friend go, and Isagi deflated, sighing.

His kick came in a flash.

Pain exploded in his stomach and Rin grunted loudly, doubling down; if it weren’t for Nagi’s sudden tight grasp around him, he would’ve embarrassingly curled up on the ground in agony.

“For the sake of your fucking fangirls, I spared your stupid face, Itoshi.”

The ground shook, his vision turning red, and the boys were in a riot when Rin lashed out, breaking free from Nagi’s grip and thundering towards Isagi’s susceptible turned back. All the sudden, his warpath was disrupted by Ego himself, with Anri at his helm. The both of them wore twin looks of uneasiness, the feat incredible considering how this lukewarm four eyed asshole’s default reaction was to act like a cheesy anime villain half of the time.

His mentor and coach’s usual composure went out the window at the sight of his violence, knocked Rin’s anger down a few pegs and he took a step back.

The field was silent, the other men gaping at him; Rin felt his ears burning.

“Fuck this,” he spat, turning on his heel.

“Two strikes, Itoshi,” Ego’s voice trailed after him like a ghostly rabid dog nipping at his heels. “One more time and I’m destroying your contract with Blue Lock.”

Rin had the patience enough to not flip his coach off as he left the verdant fields and straight home.

The anger pulsed in his mind, festering a hurricane from somewhere in his right temple. Beyond fatigued, he wished he had the nerve to at least attack Isagi when he was facing him. Only a coward struck from the back. His mind ran in constant circles, dragging his impending guilt and silent seething behind like a heavy ball and chain that he did not happen to notice his car idling in a garage he swore he would never return to.

His own apartment in the city centre was a long distant hum, and in a single second, he wondered just what the fuck had gotten in him.

Did his anger and impulsiveness lead him back to a place which was growing to be as familiar as his own home?

Rin did not know the answer to that. He merely thumped his head back onto the NSX’s headrest and took a deep breath. I guess I should go up, he finally reasoned with himself. Slowly, he opened the car door, stepping into the elevator leading him straight towards the penthouse right at the top. Rin did not know what he would expect when the door fell open, but the pressing silence was a well-known guest.

He walked amongst the untouched furniture like a living ghost, staring at the couch which held the indents of his body and yours. Together; cradled in an embrace, coddled from the world. Rin should’ve never kissed your forehead, or held your hand. He never should’ve entered this agreement in the first place. If he didn’t, he might be blissfully unperturbed, spared from the horrible, serrating pain blooming fresh in the innermost parts of his soul.

His life would still be drenched in shades of monochrome and stillness, but at least, he would be safe.

Rin would never have to wonder if the fractured silence would shine like gold the moment your voice touched the air. He didn’t have to turn the question of your wellbeing over and over in his hands until his fingers were numb with trepidation. He wouldn’t wake up the first thing in the morning and scroll through his phone log, as if terrified he had missed a call of a lifetime. The taste of ochazuke wouldn’t be tainted with your smile. Sunrises would be just minute occurrences in the morning, and not the exact moment when you would turn in his arms and press your lips to the hollow of his neck.

His nights in watching horror movies would go back to his soiree of one, and not a chance for him to pull you closer and kiss your forehead; hold you tight while you flinched and yelped from every jumpscare.

Most of all, every inhale he took did not come with the thought of you pressed in the back of his mind; boxed in like a neon sign on loop, demanding his every attention.

You were suddenly a stranger who knew his secrets—how his kisses taste, how his nightmares left him susceptible to seeking out your touch. How his rancid mood could be remedied by your tinkling laugh and soothing touch.

He feared how much of him you held in your palms. How easily you left him behind without another word.

The top three worst nights of his life were when he came home to find your things missing and the rest of your items neatly in a box, ready to be shipped out to wherever in the world you were right now.

Rin didn’t know your exact location; he didn’t dare visit your Instagram profile, keeping off the voyeuristic app for the sake of his sanity. He did watch Oliver’s feed for the brand video, and it wasn’t half as bad as he expected it to be. You were innocently sitting on Aiku’s lap, acting your part as a doting girlfriend who cheered and clapped when he scored a goal on the little TV playing in your make-believe living room.

He took in a deep breath, looking around this corporeal, imaginary living room which held nothing but your memories.

He wished he had spoken to you—tried to speak. But, Rin’s tongue was sharpened not from loving sentiments and dripping in honey, but spiked with toxic constipated sentiments he could never bring out from the depths of his mind. Any time he mustered the courage to call your number, he chickened out and put his phone back onto the table, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He rubbed his sore sternum where Isagi’s forceful kick could still be felt, and winced.

Since he was here, he decided to stay the night; after all, Ego hadn’t yet asked him to return the keys.

Rin settled on the sofa, exhaling lowly, watching the twinking city lights splayed before him with exhausted, hooded teal eyes. A sudden click from the door made his heart explode into a thousand frenzied flutters, and he quickly scrambled to his feet, daring himself to hope, to dream—that you would come back to him.

But, it was your father who paused by the threshold when he registered who it was in this home. A hard look passed over the older man’s face, and Rin straightened, wishing he wasn’t in his muddied jersey and sweaty jacket when he finally came face to face with the solemn man; wishing he had a better explanation for why he had turned up unannounced to this penthouse he once shared with you.

“Itoshi-kun,” Daichi sounded disapproving. “What’re you doing here?”

“I…” he could not tell him the truth. Rin let the question sink into the silence, taking the older man’s perception down a stream of realisation when he noticed how the young soccer star could not look into his eyes.

“She’s not here,” he finally said in a soft voice. Rin nodded, a hasty bob of his head.

“I-I know, L/N-san. I was… just about to leave.”

He realised a second too late his presence would be considered a breach of privacy to this penthouse under Daichi’s name and quickly picked up his things. “I didn’t mean to step back here,” Rin paused, internally withering from how awkward this meeting was. “I’ll be going… sir.”

The younger man was about to scamper away in awkwardness with his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs, when Daichi stopped him.

“Did you regret whatever you did to her, boy?”

Rin froze in mid-step, and this time, he turned around with a wary look in his teal eyes. The two men waited in the bated silence, and for the first time in his life, Rin could not find it in the depths of his foul soul to be callous to a man who clearly wanted an explanation of why his daughter discarded this agreement with such forlorn haste.

“I… yes.”

He finally uttered. “I did not mean the words I said to her.”

Daichi’s lips thinned and Rin did not know where to look. He suddenly felt too wide open, like there were too many blindspots surrounding him, filled with players ready to jump at his jugular.

“I knew you had a rotten personality, but I didn’t know how much it could’ve affected my daughter,” Daichi finally said. Rin bowed his head, taking the older man’s scoldings with barely a grimace—another first in his life.

“I’m… I apologise, sir.”

Daichi didn’t say anymore, and was about to brush past the dazed soccer player when Rin’s sudden, desperation-laden question coated the air with disquiet ashes; an aftermath of a bomb going off in your father’s festering soul.

“Sir, could you please tell me… what happened to Y/N’s mother?”

Rin didn’t care if such a blunt question would gain him your father’s further distaste. His stinging thoughts locked on your very first fight with him when you had stormed off to a club. He had managed to bring you back then through the divine force of another influencer’s incompetence in taking care of her own friend.

This time, he surmised fate would not be as kind to hand him a leverage when he did not deserve one in the first place.

“Why do you ask?” Daichi flitted his eyes to Rin’s furrowed brow; the evident regret weighing the young man’s features down.

“I… was just curious. It was not in her profile and she never mentioned anything about her.”

Whether by divine intervention or Daichi's quickness in putting two and two together to understand an aspect of what contributed to this rocky fake relationship, he sighed, swaying back on his heels.

Finally, he shook his head, looking Rin in the eye with a barely-concealed grimace which he tried to mask as an absent smile.

“Y/N was two when her mother passed away in a car crash. She was coming back from a party and was slightly intoxicated.”

Daichi was ignorant to how Rin’s shoulders stiffened; how his teal eyes flashed with an unnamed emotion he himself could not decipher.

“She died upon impact and the other driver who did it ran off. It’s been years, but there are moments when I feel like it just happened—like I’m still relieving it.” His weathered face deepened with regret. “If there is one thing I can tell you, boy, is that life is too short to have regrets and be in constant denial of your true emotions. If you have someone you love—someone you want to cherish—do it. Because when death takes them away from you, you’ll find yourself completely alone except for those memories to keep you company.”

Daichi finished his quiet words with an even quieter sigh. “Take care of yourself, Itoshi Rin-kun.”

He left the penthouse, the door falling close softly behind him, leaving Rin alone once more with his thoughts and regrets.

The barrage of chirps from his phone woke him up from a doze.

Rin hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the sofa again, but he had found himself once more at his penthouse the day after his fateful meeting with Daichi; as if his soul was tied to these four walls, he could not escape them. A spectre revisiting every crevice, speck of dust and memory which lingered in the nooks of this familiar yet foreign space.

He squinted at the dim glow of his phone and straightened, rubbing his bare chest to stifle a big yawn. When he finally fumbled with his phone’s password and unlocked the string of messages, his heart stopped in its tracks.

Isagi (Work): Yo, bro, I think you need to check this out.

Bachira (Work): Wtf…….. Damn, that’s cold.

M. Reo (Work): Can’t believe she moved on that quick….

Na.gi Sei (Work): And with your brother too?? What a pain. Sorry, bro.

Rin shakily clicked on the link Isagi shared in their internal group, and he was immediately faced with his worst nightmares come to life.

Drama on the fields? Promiscuous heiress trades her striker heartthrob for his older, hunky midfielder brother.

Your face was splashed across the tabloids, warmed from what he recognised as a few drinks in your system. The little black dress you wore could barely cover your thighs, and the neon pink heels you paired them with gave off a strong impression that you had dressed up half-heartedly. The Y/N he knew would never let herself step out looking this simplified, and he was caught up absorbing the little details, he almost failed to notice you in the arms of someone who made his breath hitch.

Disbelief, cold and sticky, flooded his empty stomach, and Rin sat up straighter, hunching forward with his elbows on his knees to scrutinise the image in clearer detail.

His older brother barely looked fazed with his arms around you, a small smile on his face. Rin swallowed the ball of bile forming in his throat and scrolled down, breath lodged somewhere underneath his aching heart.

You in Sae’s arms. Laughing. Holding onto his brother while a moment of unadulterated happiness flusters across your warm features. The strong grip his brother had around your tinier figure; how you looked like you could be swallowed by his defined biceps and overbearing presence.

The casual way you had your fingers twined around his neck.

Rin knew that easy-going intimacy—having had a hit of it back when you were still his. And now, you no longer belonged to him, but to his brother.

— feedback and reblogs are immensely appreciated <33

#itoshi rin x you #rin itoshi angst #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #blue lock x reader #bllk angst #rin x reader #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #bllk series #rin itoshi series #series: between love & ego #🦢 writes

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starbandit · 2 years ago

Text

Keepin’ Secrets (Choi Beomgyu)

Preview -The voice on the other side of the room made your heart stop, the world moving in slow motion. Your hands flew to the blanket, attempting to find some sort of coverage for your exposed body. “Don’t get shy now,” Beomgyu stepped deeper into the room.

Contains - brothers best friend!beomgyu, slight corruption kink, teasing, ruined orgasm, masturbation, its implied that beomgyu is older than the reader, nonidol!au, some nipple play, unprotected sex 18+ MDI !!

word count - 3.4k/unedited

You sighed and checked your phone once again. School had gotten out over an hour ago and you were still waiting for your brother to pick you up. Countless text messages and phone calls, even one to your mom who was unfortunately out of town and unable to do anything other than what you had already tried. You could hear distant thunder, dark clouds rolling in as the sun was beginning to set.

“What the fuck dude?” You groaned as the call went to voicemail, once again. “Y/B/N I hope you listen to this voicemail and feel bad about leaving your only sibling out in the rain!” You hung up the call and tightened the straps on your bag. You pulled your hood up, hoping that it might save you some discomfort as you began the walk home in the light rain.

The light rain soon turned into a downpour, soaking you down to your underwear. Your jeans stuck to your legs, the fabric clinging to the skin in the most nauseating way. A nice, hot shower was definitely in your future.

A long, uncomfortable walk later and you were finally at your front door. Your brother's car, the one you two were supposed to share, was parked outside in the driveway. You busted through the front door, cheeks and ears hot with rage. You threw your sopping wet backpack to the ground next to the pile of shoes in the entrance and stared your brother down from where he was sat on the couch.

“Damn, what the fuck happened to you?” He stifled a laugh.

“What happened to me?” You asked angrily, kicking your shoes off. You peeled your socks off and they hit the floor with a loud ‘plop!’. “What happened to me? You were supposed to pick me up from school, oh I don’t know, two hours ago? And instead you left me, outside, in the middle of a thunderstorm!”

“Ah, shit, I forgot.” Your brother shrugged. “I’m ordering pizza for dinner, you can pick the place.” He offered.

“You better let me pick the goddamn place.” You grumbled as you started up the stairs.

“Gyu’s here by the way!”

Of course. Was there ever a Friday that he wasn’t here? You couldn’t remember the last weekend your family had without Beomgyu tagging along. Family photos? Beomgyu. Celebration dinner? Beomgyu. Grandpa’s funeral? Fucking Beomgyu. Doesn’t he have his own family?

You couldn’t be mad at him though, not with his stupid smile and his stupid jokes. The way he would occasionally ruffle your hair while you did homework at the kitchen table. When he would show up to your school events earlier than your brother and give you a thumbs up from his spot in the audience. It made your heart flutter in the most confusing way.

You shut the bathroom door behind you, clicking the lock as you turned and sighed in the mirror. The rain had tangled your hair, the strands falling in front of your face in a tangled, wavy mess. You turned the shower on and stripped, peeling the itchy clothes from your skin.

Stepping into the hot water nearly made you moan. The water washed away all the stress from school, all the nasty rain water, and relaxed the muscles you didn’t even know were tight. You let your eyes flutter shut and tried to just enjoy the hot water as it washed everything down the drain.

Your mind began to wander the longer your eyes were closed. You ran your hands over your body, down your neck, across your chest, over the soft curves of your waist and hips. You couldn’t help but think of your brother's best friend, images of Beomgyu flashed behind your closed eyelids. Was this weird? Maybe. Was he cute though? Yes. No one had to know about your guilty pleasure.

You bit your lip as your hand trailed down, dipping into the growing wetness between your legs. You let a small smile paint your face, a little whimper slipped past your lips.

“Y/N?” A loud knock made you jump. “Hey, I gotta pee! No rush but I don’t wanna piss my pants!” Beomgyu’s voice echoed from outside the door.

And, the fantasy was over. You sighed. “Ok! Give me five minutes!”

“All yours.” You opened the bathroom door, steam escaping with you. Beomgyu was stood in the hall, playing on his phone.

“Thank you!” He quickly shuffled past, slamming the bathroom door behind him. You made your way to your bedroom and dropped your towel as soon as the door shut behind you. Time for pajamas.

A few hours passed before you heard a knock on your door. “Come in!” You called out, not bothering to move from where you had cozied up in your bed. Beomgyu stepped in, holding a pizza box and a liter of soda.

“Delivery, m’lady.” He placed the pizza box on your bed and the soda on the nightstand. “Enjoy your gourmet meal, courtesy of Buddy’s Pizza.”

You laughed and sat up in the pile of pillows you had nestled into. “Thanks, Gyu.”

“No problem, Y/N.” He turned on his heel, eyes catching the movie that was playing on your TV. “What’re you watching? Who is she?” He questioned, stood almost completely in front of your view of the screen.

“Gyu, I would love to tell you but unfortunately you make a better door than a window and I cannot see a single fucking thing with you standing there.” You pulled a slice of pizza out of the box and began to eat.

“Oh fuck, sorry.” He scootched to the side, settling into the desk chair next to your bed. “So why is she yelling at that old lady? What happened?” He reached over, feeling over your blanket before sneaking a hand into the pizza box.

“Dude, paws off!” You smacked his wrist and he retreated, rubbing the red mark. “The old lady framed her and it caused her to lose the love of her life. It’s nearing the end of the movie though.” Your conversation was cut short with a scream for Beomgyu to come back downstairs.

“Ah, heated Mario Kart match.” Beomgyu snapped out of his trance. “Lemme know how this ends though, I gotta go beat Y/B/N’s ass in Mario Kart.” He walked out, not before taking one more glance at the TV, and shut the door softly behind him.

You were almost positive Beomgyu wasn’t interested in the movie at all, but the small amount of interest he showed you made your cheeks heat up and tummy do cartwheels.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you wake up the sun is shining through the window and the pizza box has fallen to the floor. You groaned and shoved your head into your pillow, wishing for just five more minutes of sleep. The sleep never comes and instead you find yourself trudging down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Go wake up Gyu for me.” Your brother demanded the second he saw you. The kitchen was trashed with pancake batter and eggshells. You rolled your eyes and stole a banana slice off the plate he was setting.

“He’s your friend, why should I do it?” You questioned.

“Because I’m older and mom left me in charge.” He retorted, replacing the stolen banana. “And I’ve slaved away in this kitchen to make you breakfast.”

You huffed and turned around, mumbling underneath your breath as you made your way back up the stairs and into your brother's room.

Sure enough, Beomgyu was still asleep, sprawled out on the makeshift bed of blankets and pillows. He’s dressed in a pair of flannel pajama pants and a white t-shirt. His shirt has ridden up just enough to give you a little peak of his stomach, a light trail of hair leading from his belly button down the waistband of his pants. Your heart began to race a little at the exposed skin.

You snapped out of your thoughts and decided to wake him. You could only imagine the teasing that would happen if he, or god forbid your brother, found you staring at him while he was asleep. You gently nudged him with your foot, giving him a few soft kicks in the side to wake him up.

His face scrunched up slightly and he stretched before opening his eyes. A whine left his mouth as he stretched again and sat up. “Mornin’.”

“Good morning, Y/B/N made breakfast so you better get downstairs before he inhales all of it.” You turned to leave, not wanting your mind to continue to race.

The day went by fast, your brother had taken Beomgyu somewhere, you didn’t catch all the details, just enough to know they would be back that night. You decided to have a lazy day, relax with a face mask, maybe a nice shower.

It was starting to get dark when you collapsed into bed. Home alone, no interruptions. You sighed and kicked your pajama shorts off, letting them fall to the floor. The butterflies in your tummy made you wet, and you couldn’t wait to begin. You trailed your hand down, fingers quickly finding the bundle of nerves seated between your legs.

The image of Beomgyu in his pajamas was still fresh in your mind. The soft, tanned skin, the light trail of hair that dipped below his waistband, the imprint of his cock in those stupid flannel pants. You pretended you didn’t see it, the half-hard morning wood he was sporting at breakfast but you couldn’t help but think about what it would feel like in your hand, mouth, just touching you.

You let out a little whimper and sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down to muffle your sounds. You had found the perfect balance of pressure and speed. The heat in your lower belly was growing and your heart was racing, so loud you could hear it in your ears. Your face grew hotter and hotter as time went on, sweat beading at your hairline.

“A-ah..” You whined, moving feverishly in an attempt to get closer to release. “B-beomgyu,” You whimpered. That was a first, moaning your brother's best friend's name. It felt too good to moan though. His name rolled so easily off your tongue.

“Yes?”

The voice on the other side of the room made your heart stop, the world moving in slow motion. Your hands flew to the blanket, attempting to find some sort of coverage for your exposed body.

“Don’t get shy now,” Beomgyu stepped deeper into the room. Your eyes scan his body. Was this a dream? No, no, was this a nightmare? He’s stood at the edge of your bed, eyes glazed over slightly, supporting a tent in his pants. “I know you were thinking about me, Y/N. Why don’t you continue? Or would you rather have me do the work?”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “Y-you.” Your hands are shaking as Beomgyu gently peels the blanket off your lower half, once again exposing you. “Where’s Y/B/N?” It would only be a matter of time before he was calling for Beomgyu, or worse, came looking for you two.

“Picking up dinner on the other side of town, we have time.” He crawled onto the bed, hands settling on your thighs. He squeezed the soft flesh, biting his lip as he did so. “Want me to touch you?” He questioned. His hands trailed up, fingers gently teasing the crease of your hip.

“P-please.” You nodded. Beomgyu smiled and pressed his hands down, spreading your legs for him. You could feel your ears heat up, both from embarrassment and from how turned on you were.

“Look at you, so wet.” He gently trailed his fingers over your lips, almost tickling you. “And all for me.” He took two fingers and gently spread you open, admiring the beauty.

“Gyu, please.” You begged. You wanted him to at least touch you, just once, before your brother got back and ruined whatever you had. “Please, touch me. That's all I want.”

Beomgyu smirked before sinking two fingers into you with little warning. His thumb came to rest on your clit, rubbing just enough to give you a little bit of friction. “Is this what you wanted?”

“More, please.” You choke out, a moan slipping from your throat.

“More?” He questions. “More of this?” He wiggled his fingers, hitting the right angle that made your legs feel like jelly. “Or this?” His thumb pressed slightly harder, and began making small circles.

“Both!” Your head fell back and hit the pillows. Your hips lifted off the bed slightly, trying to find a new angle that felt even better. You found yourself questioning if this was real life. With Beomgyu touching you, it didn’t take long for the heat to return to your lower belly. Your legs were beginning to shake, heat filling up your pussy. A strangled whimper left your lips and your eyes squeezed shut.

And then it stopped. No more fingers, even the heat of Beomgyu’s body was gone. You opened your eyes and turned your head to the side. He was kneeling on the ground, eye level with you.

“Couldn’t let the fun end so soon.” He whispered. He brought his hand to his mouth and wrapped his lips around the fingers that had just been inside of you. He moaned around them, eyes rolling back slightly. He pulled off his fingers with a ‘pop’ and tangled his hand in your hair. “I was going to eat you out, but figured we should save something for next time.”

Next time? You nodded. His fingers tightened in your hair, pulling you closer, until you could feel his breath on your face. “Shall we keep going, Y/N? Or should I make you wait?”

“Keep going, please.” You whined. You leaned in, hoping to catch his lips. He smiled and obliged, tongue almost instantly leaving to explore your mouth. He was minty and his tongue tasted slightly like you. You gasped as he pulled away from the kiss, tugging on your bottom lip as he did.

He stood up and quickly unbuttoned his pants, letting the jeans hit the floor. He stepped out and kicked them away before returning to his spot next to your head. His cock was straining against the tight fabric of his boxers and there was a damp spot growing next to the head. You found yourself staring up at him, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

“Go ahead, touch me.” Your hands shook as you reached over, fingers dipping into the waistband of his boxers. You gently pulled his boxers down, giggling nervously as they got caught on his hard cock. It sprang free, glistening at the tip. He shimmied his underwear the rest of the way off and let out a little gasp as you traced a finger over the tip.

You continued to touch him, running your fingers along his shaft, trailing the wetness from his tip all over. You wrapped your hand around the base and began moving your hand, slowly, waiting for Beomgyu to say something.

Beomgyu watched you for a few seconds, enjoying the slight relief from your hands. “Why don’t you use your mouth a little, baby?”

The pet name sent butterflies straight to your stomach. You propped yourself up a bit and wiggled into position, ready to take Beomgyu into your mouth. You leaned forward, allowing the tip to rest on your tongue. The weight felt nice in your mouth and his tip dripped some slightly salty precum onto your tongue. The taste made your mouth water and you closed your lips around him, sucking to create slight pressure.

Beomgyu hummed and tangled his hands in your hair once again, pulling the loose strands from your eyes. “So pretty.” His hips twitched forward, forcing more of his length into your mouth. He watched as your eyes welled up with tears slightly and you swallowed around his cock.

Beomgyu tried to stay still for you, allowing you to set the pace for a little while, before he took over. His hands guided your head up and down his cock, drool trickling down your chin. He triggered your gag reflex a few times before he finally pulled out.

“Lay down.” He gently pushed your shoulder, causing you to fall back onto the pillows. “I’m gonna make you feel good. Fuck you so good you won’t be able to sit.” He wedged himself between your legs and dipped his head down. His lips made contact with your neck and you tilted your head back in an attempt to give him more access. His wet tongue licked the sensitive skin and the feeling of his breath on the wet patch caused a shiver to roll down your spine. His hips pressed against yours, grinding slowly as he sucked red marks onto your exposed skin.

You wrapped your arms around him, fingers digging into his back through his t-shirt. He pulled away from your neck and met you with a crushing kiss. His soft lips slid against yours, leading you in the best way. He slid his tongue into your mouth, licking all around. You didn’t even register he had pushed into you until he bottomed out and you moaned at the fullness.

Beomgyu gave you little to no time to adjust, instead starting out with soft thrusts that made you whine with each jolt. The headboard of your bed banged lightly against the wall with each thrust and the box spring squeaked loudly in return. He set a fast pace, hands moving to grip your thighs to keep you from sliding away from him.

You couldn’t help but moan loudly, each thrust pushed a new sound out of you. Beomgyu growled from his spot above you. The sounds you were producing only made him want to go harder, faster. The look on your face made him proud, how your eyes were slightly closed, mouth agape. He groaned loudly as you wrapped your hand around his arm in an attempt to ground yourself.

Neither of you were going to last long. You whined as Beomgyu began to get sloppy with his thrusts, still moving at a pace that caused the bed to creak. His hands snuck up your shirt, warm against your clammy skin, and he tweaked the hardened buds of your nipples. You moaned, pushing against him some more. His fingers ran over your nipples again and you were done for. Your eyes rolled back and the heat in your stomach released.

Beomgyu whimpered at the feeling of you pulsing around his cock. His hips stuttered forward and he buried his head in your neck, releasing a loud whimper as his orgasm followed yours. His hips twitched forward a few times, milking both of your orgasms. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged your sweaty bodies close together. He let out a little whimper as you clenched around him one last time.

After a few moments, he finally found the strength to sit up. “I’m gonna pull out now, ok?” He waited for you to nod in response and quickly pulled out, whispering an apology as you hissed. He quickly grabbed his discarded underwear and shoved them under your hips, catching any cum and wetness before it completely destroyed your sheets. You would have to thank him later.

“I’mma go grab some water and tissue, I’ll be right back.” He gave your forehead a gentle kiss before rushing out of the room.

You sat there, Beomgyu’s now soiled underwear under your butt. You could still feel the cum dripping down your leg. Your room was hot and stuffy. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend what had just happened, or how your brother would react if he found out.

Beomgyu returned with a washcloth and some cold water. He had redressed himself, a fresh t-shirt and his pajama pants now covered his body. He handed you a bottle of water and made quick work of gently wiping you down. He placed soft kisses on your thighs as he cleaned you up and tossed the washcloth in your hamper once he was done. He went through your drawers and found you some fresh pajamas, even helped you get into them. Lastly, he cracked your bedroom window, allowing the cool air to flush out the heavy air that filled your room.

“Our little secret, yeah?”

You nodded from your spot on the side of your bed. “Same time next weekend?”

Beomgyu smiled. “You got it, baby.”

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thisismeracing · 1 year ago

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Anything you want | CL16 (Patreon exclusive)

― Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader ― Word count: 1.5k ― Warnings: +18; suggestive content and graphic description of sex (oral -male receiving and gagging on a dick); slightly sub!charles; Minors DNI! ― Summary: After getting hit by a wave of bad luck, Yn takes matters into her own hands to make her boyfriend feel a bit better about his situation. Sometimes all you need to feel brand new is a two-day vacation full of sex by the fire and words of affirmation.

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starcrossedxwriter · 1 year ago

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Wicked Fantasies Part 4 (MBJ x Black OC)

Warnings: mentions of grief and death… NSFW, public sex, name calling, BDSM themes

A/N: lol remember when I said this was gonna be two parts? Well I finished both so I said why not lol long chapter ahead but I hope you enjoy!

***

“It’s really insane when you think about it,” she laughed. “I mean God, these people are saying shit I wouldn’t dare breathe out loud… to a complete stranger. Do your DMs always look like this?”

Michael nodded, causing Raven to shake her head in complete disbelief. “I don’t see most of ‘em but my team likes to share the wildest ones sometimes. The people are mad creative.”

“You don’t ever feel objectified by it?” Raven asked, her nails tapping quietly against her screen as she deleted DM after DM.

“Sometimes but it’s par the course in my world. And they do it to all celebrities. It’s also not like me and my team don’t play into that shit. So it’s kinda hard to get mad. When you get branded as a sex symbol, people treat you like one. And generally, people don’t mean any harm by it. As long as people, you know, keep that shit on social, I don’t get bothered.”

“Fair. People need to like get offline and touch grass. The amount of women in my DMs insulting me for ‘stealing you?’ You’d think I wrecked their fantasy home. It’s kinda disturbing, not gonna lie.”

Despite the rise in explicit DMs, Raven was pleasantly surprised at how little her life had changed since she became the public girlfriend of a mega movie star. She had never seen so many follow requests in her life and the cameras swarmed the library for the first few days. However, other than that and one or two articles detailing the sparse details of her life that were available, things were pretty much exactly the same. It also helped that there was a major celebrity scandal each week so their relationship had quickly become old news. But they were the new “it couple” on the block. The world bought their act hook, line, and sinker. A few more months of this and the debacle of their first date would be a funny passing joke on SNL or Late Night tv and nothing more.

“I feel bad dragging you to this shit on your birthday,” Michael mumbled apologetically.

Raven scoffed. “It’s a dinner party at Ryan Coogler’s with the cast of my favorite superhero movie of all time,” she exclaimed, a bit of her fan girl side slipping out. “Hardly a punishment. We got our photo so you can post something cute and sappy for the gram and I get to do something fun completely unrelated to my birthday. Win, win.” She assured him with a smile.

Michael still did not understand her aversion to her birthday, it was one of the many things about her that were a big question mark. He thought she was just being modest when she told him so when Ryan invited the couple to dinner at his spot, he felt bad for even asking her to give up her special day for a work event. However, she said yes immediately, clearly thankful for a work obligation to fill up her evening.

Her phone rang, interrupting Michael’s response. She rolled her eyes when she saw her sister’s name pop up. She had been dodging her and her dad’s calls left and right since she and Michael’s first date weeks ago. She knew her sister would find out from social media and would tell their dad, and she knew they both were just calling with their hands outstretched. She could tolerate them asking for her money and the money she did not have yet, she always found it and, even if she complained, she would give it. But she would not entertain requests for money that was not hers to give away, nor would she give Michael the impression she was a gold digger trying to bleed him dry. He was upholding his end of the bargain, she would not milk him for anymore than that. She let it go to voicemail, however, soon the car filled with the constant dings of her texts.

“You gotta take that?”

“Umm… yea,” Michael could feel her entire mood sour at the idea. “It’s just my sister. She’ll never stop calling if I don’t. You mind? Sorry,” her tone was apologetic, knowing how frustrating it would be to listen to half a conversation in a car you can’t escape from.

She held the phone to her ear and waited for her to pick up, making sure to turn the volume down as low as possible in hopes Michael would hear as little of whatever insanity her sister would spew. She knew she was not calling to merely offer happy birthday wishes, if she even acknowledged the day at all.

“Raven! I’ve been calling you for days. What the fuck?” Kiara’s voice filled her ears.

“Hi Kiara. Sorry, I’ve been a little busy. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” She responded shortly without asking Raven the same. “And yea, a little busy all over the fuckin’ ShadeRoom. You know how fuckin’ embarrassing it is to find out you’re dating MY celebrity crush on Insta?? You didn’t even like that nigga or his movies.”

Not true, Raven wanted to yell into the phone. She and her sister were not close enough to know each other’s favorite movies or actors, hell even favorite colors, let alone gossip about their relationships together. So she was not sure why Kiara even expected to know about her relationship, even if it hadn’t been a complete farce.

“You have me out here lookin’ stupid as shit to my friends.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize how it would impact you.” There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, which she could tell Michael picked up on as he choked back a laugh. However, she knew Kiara was too self absorbed to notice.

“When are you gonna bring him here for us to meet him? The girls want to meet him too.”

“You and dad are always welcome to come to LA and meet him. O-Or just, you know, visit me?” she threw him an apologetic shrug that just made him laugh. She wished she could laugh at how quickly her family’s tune had changed about seeing her. She had invited them to LA countless times before everything fell apart but they couldn’t have cared less about her life and how she was doing. And when she tried to visit them, they made excuse after excuse about why it was not a “good time.” But now that she had a famous boyfriend, it was “when are you coming to visit?” As if the invitation had always been open. She had not seen her family in two years. “Don’t think either of us have time to come to y’all with his schedule. He’s going out of town soon for his new movie.”

“Maybe I can convince dad if you can get us tickets to the premiere of that movie…. What’s the name? I don’t remember. The girls would love that shit. Or… oh! He has to be invited to the new Black Panther premiere next month too. Maybe we can go to that? I don’t know what that shit’s about but it’s Black Panther so you know hella celebs will be there. He’s gotta be a brand ambassador for some fancy shit. Can you get us some Birkins or something?”

Raven clenched her eyes shut as her sister outlined her laundry list of impossible wants from her “boyfriend.” She knew she could never and would never ask Michael for a fraction of these things. And if she was going to ask him for something out of their contractual obligations, she doubted whether it would be to benefit Kiara of all people. She would do it on behalf of someone who would actually appreciate it.

“I’ll ask him. But maybe for now, you can settle for an autograph? Look, we are actually headed out on a date. Did you or dad need something?”

“Oh yea… I need money for a lawyer for that charge from a couple weeks ago. You know that fuck ass bar is suing us for damages? But that shit wasn’t even our fault.”

Raven’s head lazily fell to the side as she half-listened to her sister complain for several minutes, drowning on with details from the fight that made Raven think the bar was well within their rights to demand payment. But accountability was not Kiara’s strong suit. She offered lame “ohs” and “wows” to give the impression that she was truly paying attention. She was just waiting for the ask, there always was one and everything before it was pointless. She finally tuned back in when her sister demanded cash.

“I gave dad the rest of my savings to bail you and your boyfriend out of jail. And I already sent money for the mortgage and dad’s car. I’m tapped out this month.”

“Fuck you mean tapped out? You’re living like a fuckin’ big shot in LA with a millionaire for a boyfriend and you can’t slide me money for a lawyer? That’s fuckin’ foul, Raven.”

Raven clenched her eyes shut. It had already been hard enough to keep up the appearances that she had a thriving career in LA. Adding a fake relationship to the house of lies she existed in did not help matters. Her family had no idea how much she was struggling now and while she knew she could tell them, she did not want to deal with their reactions, which she knew would likely be to blame her. She felt enough guilt and blame for her situation as it was.

“I can’t just make money I don’t have materialize, Kiara.” She lowered her voice though she knew there was no way Michael was not listening. “You know just because I let you and dad treat me like an ATM, doesn’t mean I do that to other people. I don’t have the money right now but I can pay the bar in installments when I come into more in a couple weeks and just pay off the damages for you.”

“No, we aren’t payin’ the fuckin’ bar cause we didn’t do shit. And wow… God. You’re so fuckin’ selfish, running off to LA and abandoning us here to make all that money with your fancy degrees and shit.”

“Did I run off and abandon you or did you make it impossible to stay?” Raven asked, her exhaustion at constantly being the villain of her family’s story getting the better of her.

“Poor Raven. Always the fuckin’ victim as if everything that’s wrong in this family isn’t your fault. And to pull that card today of all days when you know it’s the anniversary of mom’s death. If it weren’t for you…” Kiara started to say before Raven cut her off, tears welling up in her eyes as she already could hear her sister and father’s voice finishing that sentence.

“I’ll figure it out and send the money, ok?” She called out, cutting her sister’s words off completely. “I’m getting an advance from my next book in a couple weeks. Find a couple lawyers, meet with them and get their rates and I’ll pay for it. No one crazy expensive, Ki.”

She knew lying was wrong but she did not have any other option. She couldn’t tell her family where the money would be really coming from. Michael had a whole list of things for her for the next two weeks before he went on his press tour, which meant she would easily make enough to pay her sister’s legal fees and pass it off as an advance.

“This is me and Jay’s lives, Raven. It’s not like you don’t have the money or access to itto pay for the best.”

Raven focused her eyes on the ceiling of the car, a sorry attempt to stop tears of guilt and frustration from falling. She felt a tidal wave of shame hit her knowing Michael was seeing her like this. “Whatever you need. But once my advance money is gone, I’m tapped out for a while. Seriously, Kiara.”

“Yea yea yea. I gotta go. I’ll call you in two weeks about the lawyer. Bye.”

Raven clenched her phone in her hand with a fist, her entire body turning away from Michael as a small frustrated sob escaped her that she couldn’t quite keep in. She tossed her phone down on the seat and wiped her eyes.

She had hoped to make it through today, the annual reminder of the worst day of her life, without thinking too much about it. But there her sister was, picking at the threads of her composure, forcing her to unravel.

The worst part of all of it was she could not even be mad at her sister or her father and how they treated her. She deserved it and she knew it. She had ruined their lives and this was her atonement. So she endured it, every slight, every barb, every wound because she - perhaps foolishly - hoped that if she kept reaching out her hand and kept giving, one day they would reach back and not expect something in it. They would forgive her and she would have a real family again.

It did not matter how they spoke to her or treated her, she just repeated the same mantra over and over and over again.

Keep reaching out your hand, she reminded herself as she took a few deep breaths.

“You good? We can drive around for a bit longer if you need a minute.”

“Yea, yea.” She sniffled and cleared her throat. “Just stupid family shit. One day we’ll have a date without me crying o-or having a panic attack,” she let out a watery laugh as she forced a smile onto her lips.

The smile was wide, and Michael knew, to a stranger, it would likely seem authentic and bright. It would certainly be enough to fool everyone at dinner tonight. But he could see its inauthenticity in her eyes, that’s where all of her emotions shown through. And her eyes? They were void of even the minuscule amounts of light and joy he typically saw and that were present moments before that phone rang. Now, she just looked torn down. And this version of her did not have enough energy to do more than put on that facade and pray no one looked too closely. But when it came to Raven, Michael always looked too closely… and he knew that was the problem.

Michael slumped back in his seat for a few moments, the wheels turning in his mind as he studied her. He knew he could continue with their plan for the night, that she would play her part and play it well. However, he could not, in good faith, allow that. All their dates thus far had been about him. She deserved for the one day to celebrate her to be all about her. He pulled out his phone and went to Google. After a few minutes of searching, he closed that and opened his call log.

“Hey Coog.” His voice filled the car, Raven glancing over to him as she continued trying to reign in her emotions so she could play her part. “My bad, man but we ain’t gon’ make it tonight. Send my apologies to the rest of the team and your wife.”

Raven’s head whipped to the side as she listened to his words. She could hear the faint accent of Ryan Coogler asking if everything was ok. She immediately turned to him and threw an expression at Michael before mouthing, “What are you doing??”

Michael merely winked at her before answering Ryan. “Yea yea. Just somethin’ came up I gotta take care of.” Michael chuckled. “Aight, ‘preciate you, brah. I’ll make it up to you. Talk to you later.”

As soon as he hung up the phone, Raven immediately spoke up. “What was that? Why aren’t we going to dinner?”

Michael ignored her and directed his next statement to Allen. “New plan, Allen. Just sent you the address.”

“Yes, sir.”

He continued to avoid her confused and wide eyes. He could not sit at a dinner party, regardless of how fun it was going to be to see the entire cast, knowing Raven was in pain. And even if he did not know or understand the extent of it, he could empathize and recognize she needed a night of someone caring for her, not the other way around.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

When Allen finally stopped, Michael helped Raven out and handed one of the cards out of his wallet to Allen, whispering something in his ear that Raven could not hear. With that, Allen sped off, leaving the two behind. Michael placed his hand on the small of Raven’s back and directed her down the block.

“What about your dinner party?”

“That nigga hosts a dinner party for everythin’. My role in the movie ain’t that big. Just settin’ up future shit so they won’t miss me. He’ll host another after the premiere next month and at the end of the award season if it gets nominated. Trust me, we ain’t missing shit.”

“But you’re paying me to go to work events with you?” Raven hated that once again, he felt the need to cater to her and her emotions. “I don’t need to be coddled. O-or for you to rearrange shit to celebrate a day I don’t even want to celebrate. You’re paying me to do a job, let me do it.”

“Yea and now I’m paying you to have a relaxin’ evening with me. This’ll be more fun anyway. We can still pretend it ain’t your birthday if you want.”

“Relaxing… at a rage room?” She glanced up and gestured toward the sign outside of the building they were standing in front of. It was quiet, no one but a front desk attendant gawking at them. But she was not surprised it was quiet for a Wednesday night.

“You tellin’ me you don’t have some rage you wanna exercise a bit, ma?”

She chewed on her lip, she had more than enough rage to get out, but she needed to fix that on her own time, not his. “I do… we all do, I’m sure but… then you shouldn’t pay me for the night. This isn’t work. You’re just doing this to make me feel better and I’m good. We really should go to that party. You can’t just blow off work obligations because your fake girlfriend’s having a bad day.”

Michael closed the distance between them and used his fingers to pry her lip out from between her teeth. He wanted to smile at how she rolled her eyes and pouted a bit, clearly resisting the urge to draw her lip back where it was.

“You aren’t ‘good.’ I don’t know you that well but I do know that much. Just because this ain’t real doesn’t mean I want to watch you suffer on the one day of the year that’s supposed to be about you. A dinner party isn’t what you need. You need fun, seems like you get little of that shit anyway. So since I’m payin’ for your time, I’m tellin’ you not to worry about my shit. And I’m tellin’ you that your only job today is to have fun. And I don’t like having my money wasted, baby girl.” His voice dropped to his commanding tone, a tone that let her know he’d pull out the flogger again if she did waste his time.

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Fine. But this really isn’t necessary.”

“It’s my money. Let me decide what’s necessary and what’s not. Now come on.” He pulled her in the door, using his award winning smile to get them into the largest room that was clearly meant for more than two people.

The attendant got them set up in their protective gear and closed the door behind them, locking them in the room for an hour.

“So what do we do?” Raven muttered as she glanced around, quietly giggling at their absurd bee-keeper style gear. The room was filled with breakable items, bats and golf clubs and other makeshift weapons. There were holes in the walls and punching bags and dummies and stacks of plates.

He picked up a vase and chucked it at the wall, the glass shattering against the wall. Then he picked up another one and handed it to her.

His hand pressed into her chest, right above her heart. “Every negative thing you feel in here? Destroy everythin’ in this room til it doesn’t feel like you’re drownin’ in it.”

She grabbed the vase from his hand and held it for a moment before she threw it as hard as she could at the same spot on the wall. Lacking his strength, it did not make it to the wall but she did enjoy the rush of adrenaline and satisfying crash it made as it shattered to the ground. She did not even need further prompting as she picked up the discarded baseball bat near her and started using it to break everything she could see that was breakable.

Michael spent most of the hour cheering her on as she released every bit of pent up frustration and anger and pain and shame she felt. She was so tightly wound all of the time, never letting any of it show so she could never let any of it go. But this was a cathartic release that she did not even know she needed. She knew she would feel it all again tomorrow but every crash, every piece of glass shattered, every dent she made into the walls of that room felt like a small bit of everything she kept in started to vanish piece by piece.

By the time the buzzer rang, signaling the end of their session, she was exhausted, her arms tired but she had never felt lighter.

“That was…” she breathed heavily as they walked out toward Michael’s SUV. “Amazing. I didn’t know I needed that. Thank you.”

“See? You gotta trust me more, baby girl. I know more than just what your body needs.” He winked at her as he closed the door behind him. “And now, we have one more stop.”

They spent the entire drive recapping their favorite things to break in the rage room, which “weapons” caused the most damage.

“Remind me never to piss you off,” Michael joked as Allen pulled off onto an overlook.

“What do you mean??”

“You were downright terrifyin’ with that damn bat. Can’t have you goin’ all Jazmine Sullivan or Carrie Underwood on my car.”

“Whatchu know about Before He Cheats?”

He let out a barking laugh. “Enough to know niggas go up for that song, me included.” He admitted. “But if you try to sell that to a gossip site, I’ll deny it.”

“Wow, learning something new about you every day. And please, I’m sure there are more effective ways to hurt you if you pissed me off,” she teased. “You’d have a new car before I even finished taking a bat to the old one.”

“You might be right about that.”

“Where are we?” She asked as Michael helped her out of the car and she followed him around to the back of the SUV. He opened the trunk and laid out a picnic blanket and soft pillows that Allen had purchased while they were raging and jogged up to the front to grab the box of Prince St. Pizza that had made Raven’s stomach growl the entire ride and a bottle of white wine.

“Overlook by the Hollywood sign. Perfect view of the city with my favorite white wine and favorite pizza.”

Raven smiled as he helped her climb into the back of the SUV, both of them leaning on the back as they looked out over the city. The silence was comforting, both of them eating their way through the giant pepperoni pizza and several glasses of wine. When they finished one bottle, Allen just produced another from the front seat and handed it back to them.

“Thank you… for tonight,” Raven smiled as he poured her another glass of wine. “I… did really need this. And you didn’t have to.”

“Don’t mention it. Seemed like you needed this more than I needed a dinner party.” He paused. “So your sister… did she even say happy birthday to you?”

Raven let out a cold laugh as she took a long sip from her glass. “Nope. But I didn’t expect her to. Told you,” she whispered as her fingers played with the strings on the edge of their blanket. “Just another day.

“So that’s why you don’t celebrate your birthday? Your mom?” At her startled expression, he shrugged apologetically. “I didn’t hear everythin’ but your sister was talkin’ loud as fuck toward the end. When’d she die?”

Raven sighed. “She died in labor. Had some condition, doctors told her no more kids… she got pregnant by accident. My dad wanted her to have an abortion, she refused. She gave birth and died a couple hours later.”

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, his hand rubbing her thigh. He had tuned out most of their conversation, not wanting to eavesdrop. But the moment he heard frustration and pain in Raven’s voice, he could no longer block it out. He heard every word her sister hurled at her and he hated that they treated her so callously. “And they blame you?”

She wiped her tears for a moment before muttering. “I blame me.”

“You were a baby, didn’t ask to be born. How is her choice your fault?” Michael reasoned, hating that she blamed herself for something so out of her control. But he also knew grief was not the most logical of emotions, particularly grief as deep seeded as this.

“My dad could barely look at me as a kid, wanted nothing to do with me beyond keeping me clothed and fed. The only person who didn’t blame me was my grandma, she basically raised me until she passed when I was in middle school. And I get it,” her voice broke slightly with her grief. “If it weren’t for me, my dad would still have his wife and my sister would have a mom. So yea… I was born and she died for that… not much worth celebrating in my book… or anyone’s really.” Her voice trailed off to a soft whisper before she shook her head and rolled her shoulders back as if she could shake out the negative emotions. “But you didn’t bring me to this gorgeous spot to trade childhood trauma. Thank you for helping me take my mind off all that for a bit.” He could tell by her tone that she did not want to discuss it anymore. “I don’t know why you’re so nice to me,” she mumbled as she took another bite of pizza.

He wrinkled his nose. “Am I not supposed to be?”

“No, no. I just… still waiting for you to be what I’d thought you’d be, I guess. What Tasha warned me you’d be.”

“And what was that?”

“An asshole,” she answered bluntly, Michael chuckling as he bowed his head.

“I am… an asshole,” he admitted. “I’ll never deny that. Couple bad decisions after a bad break up and Hollywood bad boy became the image so I leaned into it. Self-centered, arrogant, cold… Aside from my family, that’s the version of me people see.”

“But that’s not you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How you know? We just met a month ago.”

She examined him with a soft smile before sitting up a bit straighter. “Because a self centered, arrogant asshole doesn’t do half the things you’ve done for me. You don’t treat me like a body or a business transaction. You treat me like… a friend? Even when you have no reason to. You may be a jerk but hell, plenty of niggas are jerks. You may even be a little selfish, not shocking when the world caters to you. But I think the real you is kind and thoughtful. I don’t know why you don’t want to show the world the side of you I see.”

“Cause that nigga gets taken advantage of, gets heartbroken.”

She nodded, she knew more than a thing or two about being taken advantage of.

“Who was it then?”

“Hm?”

“The girl that broke your heart and created this version of you?”

He let out a humorless chuckle and placed his hand on her knee. “One day, I’ll tell you.” He paused, glancing at her. “I treat you like a friend because I think we are… friends?”

He wanted to be so much more than friends. Every date, every moment with her he realized that more and more. However, if friends was as intimate as their relationship could ever truly be, he would settle for it. Anything, just to have her nearby.

The small smile on her face turned brighter. “I think we’re friends too.”

With the declaration of their friendship, both of them laid back against the pillows on their backs so they could stare out of the sunroof at the midnight sky. The sky was so perfectly clear, she could see endless stretches of stars.

“What made you decide to be a writer?” Michael asked as they laid there.

“I used to dream of being anywhere but where I was,” she admitted. “Still do most of the time. And when I was a kid, books, particularly fantasy books, were just the one place I could always escape to. Other worlds and lives so vivid so I could leave this one behind for a short while. And they always gave me hope that things could get better, maybe. I wouldn’t get saved by a dazzling prince or whatever. But they made me think things could turn around somehow. But when I was young, so few books had characters who looked like me or were written by women who looked like me.”

“‘If there’s a book you wanna read, but it hasn’t been written, then you have to write it,’” he quoted the quote she had above her desk in her room.

“Exactly.”

“Why’d you stop after one book?”

She clenched her eyes shut. “Didn’t have much of a choice. A… misunderstanding,” she muttered the word bitterly, “with my editor at my publishing house… and they dropped me, wasn’t able to find another. So I got the job at the library to tide me over till I figured shit out. That was… about a year and a half ago? Haven’t been able to write much since.”

“A misunderstanding?” He repeated, glancing over at her, his question clear even though he did not explicitly ask it. However, when he felt her body shift uncomfortably next to him, he quickly backtracked. She had already rehashed so much that she did not need to tonight, there was no need to unearth anything else. She kept giving him more puzzle pieces but the picture remained a mystery. However, he could tell that it was one that held as much darkness as it did beauty.

His hand grasped hers and squeezed. “You ain’t gotta tell me. Add it to the one day list?”

Her eyes were still closed but he felt her squeeze back. “Thanks.”

Silence fell over them as they laid there. Michael rarely just laid and did nothing like this. It was contemplative and nice, to simply exist beside her. He spent so much time being on, playing a part or an image. But he liked that he did not have to do that with Raven when they were alone. She let him be Bakari… the version of him that was only safe with his family and closest friends.

“Tonight… I needed it too,” he offered, ending the silent reprieve. “So thank you for indulgin’ me.”

Raven turned and propped her head up on her hand, turning her body to face his profile. He looked different bathed in the moonlight. He was gorgeous, anyone with eyes could see that. But he seemed more youthful to her, his features more relaxed than they typically were when they were on dates. His jaw was relaxed, his lips settled into a smile that was effortless… not his movie star smile, which she had seen enough times to recognize the nuances that signaled its inauthenticity. This one though, his real smile,… it made him heartbreakingly gorgeous.

“Thank you for caring about me a-and for today. Haven’t had anyone do that in a long time,” she admitted before settling back on her pillows.

He knew she had that void in her life but hearing her admit it out loud broke his heart in places he was not expecting.

“What about right now?”

“What about right now?” She asked, her tone filled with confusion.

“Do you wish you were anywhere else but here right now?” He asked.

She tilted her head to glance at him, finding his eyes trained on her and not on the sky above. She let out a deep breath as she studied him.

“No, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

He smiled. “Good.”

They turned back toward the sunroof, content smiles on both of their faces. They did not talk much beyond that, both of them enjoying the silence and each other’s company.

She did not even know how much time had passed when something finally broke that precious silence, the buzzing of Michael’s phone. Instinctively, she glanced over and caught a glimpse of his bright screen. Tasha’s name scrolled across, Michael sighing a bit as he sent the call to voicemail.

Suddenly, Raven felt overwhelmed with discomfort. He was still seeing Tasha… why did that upset her so much? He had never promised not to, at least not to her. So she knew she had no reason to be mad. But she could stop the claws of jealousy from sinking their talons into her heart and soul. And when that subsided, all she felt was inadequacy. Another moment where she was not enough for someone.

She cleared her throat. “It’s… um kinda late?” she glanced down at her watch before sitting up and sliding out of the back of the car. “L-Looks like you’ve got plans?” She tried to hide the bitterness in her voice but she knew she failed, knew Michael could see all of it.

Michael shook his head. “Nah, it’s not wh-”

Raven cut him off. “I have an early shift tomorrow… would hate to oversleep. Mind taking me home?” She did not know why she lied, her shift was not until noon. However, she knew it was an excuse he could not argue with.

Raven started to walk around to the car door when she felt Michael’s grip around her arm, halting her movements. Michael hated that she saw that. Similar to her, but for entirely different reasons, he had been dodging Tasha’s calls like they were the plague. Usually he reached out to her to set up dates but when two weeks passed with radio silence from her best and most frequent customer, she started calling more often. He met up with her once, an act he regretted the morning after when he woke up. But she had promised discretion, if anyone knew how much of a farce he and Raven’s relationship was, it was Tasha. But he did not even enjoy it in the same way, he felt like he was just going through the motions. So when she reached back out earlier that week to set up another date, he ignored it. And ignored all the subsequent messages. He could not avoid her forever, but he knew he needed to put her on pause until Raven was out of his life and out of his system. While he was drugged up on her, no other fix was as worthy or quite as right.

But he did not know how to explain that to Raven. He had not promised her exclusivity but it had most certainly been implied. He would not be pleased if he found out another man she had fucked was calling her.

“Tasha and I aren’t…” he started to say but Raven pressed her hand to his chest to stop him.

“You don’t gotta lie to me. You’re allowed to sleep with other women, Michael. This isn’t real, we’re just friends at the end of the day. All good. I’m really tired though and need to get up early.”

With that, she gently maneuvered her arm out of his grasp and slid into her seat in the car. She was thankful with every passing mile that took her closer to her apartment and out of his presence. She did not have a right to be upset but she could not change the fact that she was. She enjoyed being his only and she wasn’t, and she was wholly unprepared for how that would make her feel. But that’s what she got, for thinking his feelings for her extended past their business relationship. He was kind but she had signed up to be used and he was getting what he wanted. She had to accept that.

“Thanks for the ride, Allen,” she said as she opened the door. She fixed her face and offered him a smile that was a bit forced but, despite the end to the night, still was partially genuine. “Thanks for tonight, seriously. I had fun.” His phone buzzed again, causing her to grimace. “And have fun with Tasha. Night, Michael.” She did not let him respond before she let the car door slam shut and she raced inside as fast her legs in her heels could carry her.

Michael groaned, his head thudding back against the headrest as he looked at his phone screen.

“I fucked that up, didn’t I?”

“Wasn’t your shining moment with her, sir.”

He clenched his hand into a fist before answering the phone. He never wanted to see that look on Raven’s face again and truthfully, he did not care to frequent Tasha anymore. He knew Raven and he had a shelf life that would expire but even when it did, he was not sure he could go back to fucking Tasha like Raven never existed. She had infiltrated every aspect of his being in the last two week and tonight had only made him fall deeper for her, made him want to give her everything she did not have. It was strange to feel this emotion again, to long for someone like he did her. Even if it could not be something long term, he wanted to savor it while he had her.

But that was not something he was truly ready to admit to himself, let alone to Tasha. So he decided to take the easy road out and blame it on something else: the image and his manager. Tasha would have to respect that, right? And he would spin some lie about seeing her after Raven and he broke up, even though he was not sure if he had the desire for dispassionate, unattached sex in him anymore.

“Hey Tash,” he muttered coldly into the phone.

“Hey baby… wanted to see if you wanted to meet up tonight? I miss you,” her voice was sultry and inviting, a voice that, once upon a time, would have had him racing through LA to get to a hotel with her. But today, it did nothing. “And a little birdie told me you were headed to Paris in two weeks for press. Should I pack a bag?”

Michael rolled his eyes. That was his own fault. He flew her out once last year to Cannes Film Festival and now she thought she was invited on every trip. There was only one person he wanted to take on this trip with him and after tonight, he was not even sure she’d say yes.

“Yea… listen Tash. You know how I feel about you. But I can’t see you anymore… just for a few months.”

“What?? Why?”

He rolled his eyes, she knew why. “Well, you know… I got this relationship with Raven that is really important for my career and I can’t be seen with other women. We’re gonna have an amicable split in a few months and then I’m all yours again. But until then, we gotta keep our distance.”

He could hear the frustration and bitterness in her voice, though she tried and failed to hide it. “You’re my best customer, Michael. You can’t just… drop me outta nowhere.”

“It’s just temporary. Just a couple months. And I’ll send you some money to tide you over till you get a new client. Also means no Paris. Sorry, I just really gotta focus on cleaning up the image over the next few months. You understand, don’t you? You know you’ll always be my favorite girl.”

There was a long pause that made Michael check to ensure the call had not been disconnected.

“Yea I understand. Just a few months though, right? Then you’re droppin’ the new girl?”

Michael rolled his eyes before nodding, though she could not see him. “Of course, baby. Just a couple months and then she’s gone. Promise.”

They shared a few pleasantries before Michael hung up and prayed she did not call him again for a while. His fingers itched to text or call Raven and explain. But something stopped him, the part of him that still adamantly rejected his feelings toward her roaring. He did not owe her an explanation, he did not owe her anything but the money he paid for her dates. She did not ask for an explanation either so why would he volunteer one? Those two parts of him battled until he threw his phone to the side in frustration.

He sighed and took a deep breath as Allen pulled up in front of his family home in the hills, his oasis, Raven’s perfume still lingering in the car… that hint of lavender danced on his nose. He fell asleep with that phantom smell haunting him, Raven finding ways to pop up in every dream he had that night, leaving him no escape from her or his feelings for her.

***

“Here you go.” Michael handed her an envelope filled with cash. “I’ll be gone by the time you wake up.”

Raven nodded and stored it in her overnight bag before grabbing her clutch. They were finally alone after being poked and prodded all afternoon by his stylist and glam teams to get ready for the premiere. They had ten minutes before the car would be there to take them. And then Michael would be jetting off at an ungodly hour to New York and then Paris for press. Raven was actually a bit sad to see him go.

Though they never discussed the Tasha debacle from her birthday two weeks prior, she and Michael were slowly but surely getting closer and closer each day. They had had an event or something to go to almost every night, Raven was shocked at the amount of money she had been able to make in such a short window of time. Even helping her sister with her lawyer, she felt as if she could actually breathe easy for the first time in a while. And on the nights they were not together, they generally texted or talked on the phone at some point. They hadn’t had sex again, Raven finding any and all excuses to avoid that since he was still seeing Tasha. He never pushed or seemed angry, albeit a bit disappointed when every date ended with her asking Allen to take her home. It was petty she knew it but she did not care. She had no interest in competing with Tasha, she knew who would win every time.

“Thanks.”

“You sure you’re gonna be good while I’m gone?”

Raven glanced at him and rolled her eyes as she threw her lipstick in her clutch. She did not quite understand how the small bag was even functional, it did not even fit her ID. But Michael’s stylist said it fit the look so she did not question it. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Jordan. I’ll be just fine without you for a few weeks.”

Michael came up behind her and laughed. “You ain’t gotta pretend like you ain’t gon’ miss me, baby girl. I mean… you know, financially. I’m in New York for a week then Paris for a week. That’s a while without dates. I can slide you some extra if you need it.”

Raven bristled at the idea, she did not want him to view her as a charity case.

“No,” she responded shortly, immediately regretting the sharp edge in her tone as his face fell. “S-Sorry. No, thank you but I’m good.”

“Even after your sister’s legal shit or whatever?”

She let out a small huff. “Yea… she managed to pick the most expensive lawyer below the damn Mason Dixon line but I got it covered, I think. And with this,” she gestured toward her bag. “I’m good on the other stuff too. Seriously, you shouldn’t worry yourself about my finances. I always figure it out.”

He grabbed her wrist to stop her from walking away from him.

“It ain't charity or worry. Don’t want you stressin’ and shit while I’m gone. And I like to know my friends and everyone on my team are good. You’re both… why would I treat you any differently?”

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me. Or fix my problems.”

“You’re here fixin’ my problems. I can’t return the favor?”

“Because… that’s not what we agreed to. This is a job, you pay me… we go out. That’s it. My family shit has no part in this and isn’t your concern. I’ll deal with them.”

“Why do you?” At her raised eyebrow, he added, “Deal with that?”

“You don’t give up on your family. You reach out your hand even when they swat it away. And one day, they’ll see all I’ve done for them and how much I love them and they’ll come around.”

“Seems to me that you let them bleed you dry as if it’ll pay whatever debt you think you owe them. And they seem content with lettin’ you bleed out in the street.”

She chuckled mirthlessly. “They’re all I got… so I don’t have much of a choice. It’ll pay off. All of it,” she forced more conviction in her voice. “One day.”

“You really believe that?”

She turned to look at him. He could tell there was genuine hope in her eyes, true belief that things would get better. A dreamer, indeed.

“Yea… I have to.”

“I dunno... There’s gotta be better out there for you… you certainly deserve better.” There was a not-so-small part of him, a part that grew with every moment he spent with her, that desperately wanted to be that more for her.

“This world is filled with people who deserve better, Michael. But we’re stuck with the hand we’re dealt until better comes along. And I don’t see any better hands coming my way. Just a long game of this shitty hand,” she whispered the last part under her breath as she checked herself in the mirror once more. She grabbed her clutch and started toward the door. “You ready? Car should be here, right?”

He hated how resigned she was to her fate and treatment. He had more than enough money to give his family and friends, more than enough for them to take advantage of if they chose and none of them did. Raven had none of that and still gave her last to people that clearly did not appreciate it. And to know, she had every intention of doing it under some misguided belief they would thank her for it later broke his heart. It reminded him of how pure and kind-hearted she was but he knew her efforts would likely be wasted. But he would have loved to be proven wrong.

He did not know her family so he knew it was wrong to judge them but all he felt was red hot anger. Quite frankly, the only benefit he saw to the reality that this arrangement was fake was that he would not have to meet her family himself. He did not know if he could even sit in the same room with them.

“Before we go… got somethin’ for you.”

Raven raised an eyebrow, “I don’t need a gift. It’s your special night.”

“Yea but wanted to give you somethin’ to remember me by. It benefits both of us, don’t worry.” His face was a sly smirk that told her the gift was not a normal one. “But first, Tasha and I aren’t hookin’ up anymore.”

“Michael… you don’t have to…”

He shook his head and interrupted her. “Nope. You didn’t let me finish that night and you’ve been weird about it ever since. So now, I’m talkin’ and you’re gonna listen. It’s ok to be annoyed. We should be exclusive. I called her and put that shit on pause until our arrangement is done. We’ve only hooked up once since we started dating and it was early on. But either way, you don’t gotta worry about her callin’ or me seein’ her while I’m with you. I got my hands full with you anyway,” he winked at her.

Raven tried to limit the smile that wanted to blossom at his words. She was happy to hear she was not “competing” with Tasha as she thought. It was a narrative her own insecurities and anxieties created and fueled, a narrative that now seemed foolish. She still did not know why it mattered so much to her. Or rather, she knew, but she would never admit it out loud.

“So we’re good?”

“Y-Yea we’re good. Wasn’t worried,” she lied, trying to make her voice sound aloof and unbothered. She did not know why she bothered, she supposed she did not want her pride to be anymore damaged than it already was.

Michael merely pursed his lips and chuckled before nodding toward the bed. “So you ready to be my slut again or am I still on pause?”

Raven smiled. “I’m all yours.”

“Good. Lay down for me, panties to the side.”

Raven laid back on the bed, hiking up her dress to her waist so she could part her legs. She pulled her thong to the side, Michael licking his lips as he took in the mess between her thighs.

“Already so wet for me. You missed me too, huh? This is gonna be fun,” he muttered to himself as he pulled a gold vibrator out of his pocket before sitting on the bed beside her, careful not to ruffle his perfectly-tailored tuxedo.

He wasted no time sliding the vibrator inside her, Raven moaning lightly at the intrusion, the way his finger brushed against her clit. She wanted more, desperately. Her hips rolled to find his touch, his hand, her body begging for more action. But he denied her. His other hand fiddled with something small that looked like a remote control.

“Know what this is?”

“No, sir.”

“It’s the controller. Tonight, you’re gonna keep that in you and I’m gonna have a little fun with this.”

Raven let out a shaky breath. “Y-You expect me to keep this in… while we’re at a movie premiere? No way.”

He nodded, a mischievous grin in his eye. “I recall you wanting to explore some fantasies. You tellin’ me sex in public ain’t one you’ve had?”

She bit her lip as she contemplated it. The idea was certainly an intriguing one… but the risks??

“When would you use that?”

“Whenever I want. That’s the fun part… for me anyway. And you’re gonna spend the night making sure that sexy ass face when you cum isn’t plastered across TMZ tomorrow.”

Raven shook her head. “I dunno, Michael. I’m all for risk but this seems insane.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh, his voice playful and teasing. “I thought you’d be up for it, thought you wanted to have fun but I understand if you’re too scared.”

She heard the challenge in his voice. He was testing her, trying to see if she was really up for anything. She could not deny that the idea was intriguing. Having her orgasms at his mercy in public? Per usual with him, she knew she could say no. But as she ran over the risks, all she could think of was the thrill of it. She wanted it. She hated that she wanted it and hated that he knew she wanted it. But she did.

She sat up and swung her legs off the bed. She clenched her muscles to ensure the new addition to her ensemble stayed tucked where it needed to be and she shimmied the delicate fabric of her gown back down to its proper place.

“Car’s waiting,” she offered with a smirk as she grabbed her purse and walked out of his bedroom, deciding then and there that she would win whatever game he was playing tonight, and would show him that she was indeed up for any and everything.

Michael watched her ass sway as she exited and smiled.

“Gonna have a lot of fun with this.”

***

Raven was so overwhelmed by the screaming fans and reporters and flashing lights that she almost forgot about the “gift” nestled in her core. She kept her smile bright as she and Michael started down the red carpet, his arm tightly wrapped around her waist.

He looked down at her like the perfect image of a doting boyfriend, with love and protection in his eyes. He played the role so well, Raven almost caught herself falling for the act. But she supposed that was a good thing because it made her glances back at him more genuine. She knew they looked like the picture perfect couple, every gossip site raved about them after every date. She knew tonight would be no different.

She was so focused on keeping her smile intact and her eyes from blinking too much as they stood on the red carpet that she failed to notice Michael slip his hand into his pocket. Her smile faltered for just a second as she felt the device come alive, sending shock waves directly against her g-spot. It was a steady soft buzz, just enough to make her feel it, causing the heat to rise throughout her body. But it was not enough to overwhelm her.

Once she got over the initial surprise of the vibration, she was able to recompose herself with ease. She played off the change in her expression by adjusting something on her dress and continued posing with him.

Minutes passed and the vibration continued at its low pace, Raven enjoying the small jolts of pleasure. This was what she was supposed to be worried about? This was a piece of cake.

She leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek before turning her head from the cameras and whispering in his ear, “This is easier than I thought it’d be.”

Michael let out a deep laugh as if she had told a funny joke and pecked her sweetly on the nose, continuing their slow march down the carpet.

Raven genuinely felt like she could deal with that all night as she listened to Michael give an interview. She remained tucked at his side with a smile on her face. The interviewer did not really ask her any questions, thank God. So she just smiled and concentrated on keeping her thighs together.

“So Raven, I have to say, you look gorgeous. Who are you wearing?”

“Th-” her words were cut short as the vibration pattern changed, this time a long vibration that steady increased before pulsing against her g-spot and starting over again. She coughed awkwardly, pretending as if she had swallowed wrong before saying. “T-thanks. V-versace.”

Her answer was clipped and short, afraid her words would betray her if she opened her mouth. This was far different, this was ecstasy. Each vibration felt like the slowest, most tantalizing march up a mountain before someone pushed her back toward the bottom to do it all over again. And that pulse at the top? It sent a shockwave through her that made her see stars. Each time, she felt her fingers grip the fabric of Michael’s tuxedo jacket harder. The longer it droned on, the more her legs started to shake.

“You ok, baby?” he asked sweetly, kissing her on the cheek innocently.

“Y-Yea, of course.”

“You two are so cute. Thanks for chatting with me and I can’t wait to see the film.”

Michael said his goodbyes to the interviewer before guiding Raven away.

“What’s harder?” he whispered in her ear as they walked inside the venue. He stopped her in the corner of the giant atrium before they walked into the screening room and tucked her against a wall in a corner. Only official photographers were allowed at this point. To anyone passing by, they just looked like a couple having a sweet moment.

“W-what?” She found even such a simple word laborious to get out and it sounded more like a moan than a word. With him mostly covering her body from view, she could not stop the way her hips rolled as the setting changed again. The pattern was the same but the cycle was faster, the intensity overwhelming as he increased it to the next setting.

“What’s harder?” he leaned in and whispered in her ear so lowly she almost could not hear her. “Keepin’ that pretty smile on your face when all you wanna do is close your eyes and bite your lip while you cum? Hidin’ your moans so no one here knows you’re a loud filthy slut? Or stoppin’ yourself from beggin’ me to fuck you in the bathroom over there?”

She felt as if her entire body was in a frenzy. It was not just the vibrator, it was his hands gently pressing her to the wall innocently, it was the courses of people walking by them having no clue that she was on the cusp of the greatest pleasure of her life, it was that she could not stop it or him if he decided he wanted her to cum right then and there in front of everyone.

“A-all… of it,” she whispered, her face burying itself in the nook of his neck, which helped hide the pleasure swimming in her eyes but only increased it as she took in his scent. His signature cologne had become intoxicating to her.

“You wanna cum for daddy, baby?” His words were a light whisper that they knew could not be heard over the conversations and music playing throughout the hallway.

It was taking everything in her not to collapse in front of him, his arm around her waist was the only thing keeping her standing. Her legs were pure jello, every inch of her body was on fire, boiling with pleasure and humiliation at being brought to orgasm at the nicest event she’d ever been to in her life. All she wanted to do was cum but she did not trust herself to hide it.

“P-Please…” she whispered. She did not know if that please was to stop or to keep going.

Michael smirked as he felt her hips buck against his again. She was so close, he could see it in her eyes, feel it in the way her hips ground against nothing but air. It was subtle, not obvious to anyone else from the angle they stood at but he could feel it.

“Beg.” He demanded.

She clenched her eyes closed. All she wanted was to fall over this particular edge, right then and right now. She was so close, so close, it was almost agonizing to hold it in until he gave her permission. She glanced down as his finger hovered over the button to increase the setting again, knowing that she could not will him to hit that button. She would have to give him exactly what he wanted, what he always wanted. Submission.

“P-Please… m-make me cum,” she muttered in his ear. “I-I need… it… p-please.” Tears stung in her eyes as she struggled to fight the urge to let go right then and there, hearing her own needy voice in the space.

“Hm.” he offered quietly. “I don’t think you deserve it.” And with that, the vibration stopped completely.

Raven could not stop the groan that escaped her lips as he stole her orgasm, her body screaming and protesting at her in pain at the sudden loss of pleasure.

She let out a soft gasp as she glanced up at him. “You mother-”

He leaned forward and kissed her deeply, completely silencing her. Raven’s entire body fell into his as they kissed, she could hear the soft snapping of a camera nearby on her right side.

He offered her the sweetest smile before leaning to her left so the camera could not catch what he was saying.

“If you wanna cum at all tonight, I wouldn’t finish that sentence.” He straightened up and pressed his lips to her forehead, his arm still around her waist. His voice returned to a normal volume as he fixed her hair and ran his hand over the front of her dress. He looked like he was helping her adjust herself but he also wanted to make sure there was no evidence of their crimes. “It’s time for us to go to our seats. You ready?”

Raven felt like she had whiplash from the last 5 minutes. He was good, far better than she gave him credit for at these games. She thought this was just going to be a fun experiment. But Michael never did anything small. And she was foolish to underestimate him. 24 hours ago, she would have never thought she would enjoy something like this. But now? She could play this game all night long, even though she was losing miserably.

She peeled herself off the wall, her own hands running against the bodice of her dress. Her legs still felt a bit wobbly so she wrapped her arm in Michael’s to steady herself. She nodded and allowed him to lead her into the theater.

She barely paid attention to the movie as she spent the entire two hours watching Michael like a hawk. Every time he shifted in his seat or moved one of his hands, she wondered if he was going to turn the vibrator back on. Halfway through the film, she realized it was not because she was dreading it. She wanted him to. She was internally willing him to turn the stupid thing back on, even if it was only at its lowest setting. Because even at the lowest setting, she knew she was sensitive enough to get where she wanted to be. She wanted to feel the tidal wave of pleasure, she wanted to drown in and bask in it and feel the adrenaline of doing so in public. Besides, the dark theater seemed like the perfect time if he truly wanted to push her completely over the edge. When she wasn’t praying to God that he would turn it on, she was wishing it was his fingers or his dick filling her and not a toy.

She needed him so bad and truth be told, would have begged him to fuck her right then and there if they weren’t surrounded by hundreds of people.

However, nothing happened. He paid her no attention throughout the entire film except for the hand that rested on her thigh. The minutes ticked on and on and on as the cast went up on stage to say a few words when the film ended. By the time they finally finished and were in the car to the afterparty, she was a horny, disgruntled mess.

She kept her eyes trained on the window, even though it was tinted, when she felt Michael slide into the seat next to her. Two could play the ignoring game, she decided.

His hand slid into the slit of her dress, pushing the expensive material to the side so he could have full access. When she did not part her legs for him immediately, he let out a disgruntled growl that was meant to be a command. She pretended she did not hear him and ignored it.

He merely shook his head and laughed. “Aight, baby girl.” He pushed her knees apart with his hands, it took everything in her not to moan and keep her face stoic.

His fingers immediately slid into her panties, the heat of her arousal hiting his skin before he even made contact with her body. He caressed soft circles into her clit. She gave him nothing, no moans, no humping into his hand. Nothing. So he upped the ante and turned the device on to the highest setting it had available.

“Fuck!” She cried out, unable to keep it in as her body was assaulted with pleasure. The vibrator was more than enough to make her cum but adding his thumb against her clit was just simply unfair in her opinion.

His free hand grasped her chin, firmly but loose enough that it was not painful and forced her eyes on him. Her breathing was heavy as she felt pleasure building fast in her core. Tears pricked her eyes, not from pain, but overwhelming, soul shattering pleasure, “You wanted me to make you cum in that theater, didn't you? In front of all those people like the filthy whore you are? Didn’t you? Upset that I ignored you? But guess what, baby girl?” he switched the setting to a lower one to keep her on the cusp of pleasure without sending her over.

She let out a soft sob of agony as he held her there, suspended right at the cusp of her orgasm. This was more tortuous than him stopping cold turkey because she was so close she could taste it. And he kept it just out of reach. Every pulse, every caress of his finger was so much and overwhelming but still was not enough. And there was nothing she could do to force him to give her more.

“Your body is mine, your pleasure is mine. And I decide when to fuck you, when you cum, when you suck my dick… I decide when you’ve been good… when you’ve been bad and what to do about it. It’s all mine. You can ignore me all you want but see how quickly you fell apart? You can’t win against me, baby girl. Daddy always wins. You understand?”

She nodded rapidly, her body shaking lightly as she teetered on the edge, pleasure was consuming her every cell. She could barely think of anything but the raging inferno in her core. “I-I understand. P-Please…” her voice broke. She felt as if she would quite literally perish if she did not come soon. He had never kept her on edge this long, a few seconds sure. But time was stretching into minutes.

“You think you deserve it?”

She didn’t deserve it, she knew the answer he wanted. “N-No, no… I’ve b-been bad, a bad girl. I d-deserve to be punished b-but I’m begging you… l-let me cum. I c-can’t… P-please,” her voice begged him for mercy.

Deciding that she would pass out if he continued this game any farther, he pressed the button to return it to its highest setting. Her scream was nearly inaudible as she came on his fingers, her body shook as she gripped the door handle, shuddering through an intense orgasm.

“That’s it, cum for me,” he whispered in her ear. “That’s a good girl…”

“Thank you, t-thank you,” she babbled back to him as he talked her through her orgasm. He turned the vibrator off completely, finally giving her a break.

“Allen, circle the block a few times.”

“Yes, sir.”

At the sound of Allen’s voice, Raven’s eyes flew open and shock and humiliation set in. She had just cum… with another person in the car. And she had completely forgotten he was there. Once Michael had started going, the presence of another human being in their vicinity had completely vanished. She glanced up, surprised to find the limo divider up. She didn't even know when that happened. However, she knew that that barrier was not sound proof. However, instead of being utterly turned off by that idea, it just turned her on more.

“You like knowing Allen heard you?” Michael whispered in her ear.

“No,” she shot back as she fixed her dress and used the compact mirror she had stored in the limo before the premiere to fix her makeup. Thankfully she still looked pristine, despite feeling physically depleted. She did not know how she and Michael went round after round when one orgasm made her want to cuddle up under the covers and fall asleep.

“I keep tellin’ you how much I hate lies. But you never listen. Might think because we have a long night and I got an early mornin’ that you’ll escape punishment. But you won’t. Means I have a couple weeks to think of the perfect punishment for such… insubordination.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time,” she offered with a sweet smile and a wink that made him laugh.

He did not get a chance to retort when Allen pulled up at the venue of the after party. He gave Raven a once over before getting out of the limo and grasping her hand. He longed to bury himself inside her but he knew he did not have time, at least not enough time to satisfy the urges he had. And while he would toy with public sex, this was not the venue or event to be caught fucking in the bathroom, as much as he wanted to.

No, he supposed he would just deal with cold showers for two weeks until he could fuck her again, and spank her until she begged for mercy. Her pleas had done something to him, sweet music to his ears. The perfect orchestra. And he would use every free moment of the next few weeks to think of ways to get that sound again.

***

Michael rubbed his eyes as he scrolled through his email. He knew he would sleep well on the plane. He hated the first thing in the morning flights but he knew they were the only way to keep up with his crazy press schedule.

“We’ve arrived, Mr. Jordan,” Allen called from the front seat, Michael immediately hopping out. Allen grabbed his sea of bags as he waved at his castmates who were also just arriving to the tarmac.

“Thanks, man. See you when I get back. Make sure Rae gets home ok today, aight? Then enjoy your time off.”

“Thank you, sir,” Allen responded as he handed off his bags to the baggage attendants who would ensure they made it onto the plane.

Michael started to walk away and head to the flight when he heard his name behind him.

“Mr. Jordan!” Allen called after him, causing Michael to turn around. The older man jogged up to him. “A word of advice? If I am not overstepping my bounds?”

Michael nodded, allowing the man to continue. Allen rarely spoke, he was the type who liked to do his job quietly and fade into the background. And he preferred to keep it professional with Michael though there were a few topics they could shoot the shit over while in the car like basketball and the like. But Michael knew that meant Allen likely knew more about him than anyone else on this planet, which meant he would have been a fool not to hear him out.

“Avoiding love and companionship, even when it is right there waiting for you to take it, will never bring you happiness. And some would say such an ill-guided venture was foolish and selfish, particularly when the world is filled with people like Ms. Turner who love and seek out love with their whole souls and it's denied to them at every turn. And you may be a bit selfish, Mr. Jordan,” Allen admitted. “But I never pegged you as foolish.”

“What’re you sayin’?”

“I’m saying that it does not matter how this whole thing between the two of you started. It only matters how you end it. And whether you are brave enough to admit to her and yourself that perhaps you don’t want it to end at all.” Allen patted him on the arm before taking a step back. “There’s no reward for loneliness, Mr. Jordan… no Oscar to win for denying yourself more when you know you want it. The only prize those actions will give you is a lifetime of regret. And I believe you’re living a life too bright to have it dimmed by regrets.” he paused. “I hope I have not overstepped too much. But… well, there was a time a decade or two ago when I would’ve liked someone to overstep and tell me that.”

Michael stared at him for a few moments before he nodded. After his last very public and embarrassing breakup, he vowed never to fall in love again. Years of women warming his bed before he kicked them out before sunrise. He got what he wanted and gave nothing of himself… to any of them. But Raven… from the moment he watched her staring out that window, he gave without even realizing how much he had given. And now, he felt things for her that he had not felt for a woman in so long. Hell, he wondered if he had ever felt this strongly for another person in his entire life. He wanted more… not a contract or a business dealing. He wanted her. Was he being utterly foolish by pretending that was not the case?

“You did… overstep.” His tone was a bit cold but he was unsurprised at how Allen did not backtrack or shrink. He said his piece, called him out and was willing to accept whatever the consequences of that were. “But maybe I need more people to do that. Will you do me a couple favors when you go back to the penthouse to pick up Raven?”

“Anything, sir.”

***

Raven groaned as she turned over in Michael’s soft bed. She had fallen asleep in his master bedroom alone, as she always did when they slept here. He always took the guest room. She wondered if she should be more sad that they slept separately but she agreed that that was not intimacy either one of them truly needed. She groped around the bed for her phone, groaning when she realized it was already 11 a.m. Thankfully, she had another two hours before her shift but she knew she needed to hurry up so she could get home and change into her real clothes, not the fancy designer ones she kept there.

She pulled herself out of bed and stretched, part of her sad that Michael opted to go to sleep instead of fucking her. She understood he had an early day but she could not deny that all she wanted was for him to bend her into a pretzel after that orgasm in the car. But last night was, for the most part, strictly work. They did not get home and go to bed until 3 am and he had to get up shortly thereafter to catch his flight. And now she was left with nothing but a vibrator and fantasies of him to occupy her until he returned. But he had succeeded in giving her something to remember him by. She walked into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, rubbing her eyes as she dragged her feet across the hardwood floors.

Michael gave her free reign of his penthouse, even when he was not there. She did not spend the night there often but she had started to learn her way around, figure out where the sparse things he kept there were. A few dishes, a couple glasses, a fridge filled with coconut water and little food. When she slept there, so did he. But she had never really stopped to wonder where he spent the rest of his time. She guessed he had some giant mansion in the hills like every other star. But she wondered if that one was just as cold as this one, just as void of comfort and love, just as sterile.

She guessed it was not. Otherwise, he would have her come there. No, that one was the sanctuary for the real him, she imagined it was warm and overflowing with his favorite things. Japanese anime artifacts and art and memorabilia and his awards and family photos and all the things that meant something to him. And this one was merely for his image, sterile and artificial.

She blinked a couple of times, shocked to find a neat and perfectly packaged gift bag waiting on the counter with a long envelope sitting up against it.

She sucked her teeth and chuckled, “This nigga. I thought I said no gifts,” she muttered to herself as she grabbed a glass of water and sat at the barstool. Part of her contemplated not opening it. What had he even given her a gift for? Her birthday was weeks ago. But her desire to know what he got her won out.

She went to the envelope first, her name written in handwriting far too nice to be Michael’s on the front. She flipped it over and smiled as the person had written on the back: Open me last :)

“On the other side of the damn country and still giving commands.”

And you’re still following them, she imagined his voice shooting back at her as she placed the thick envelope to the side and reached into the bag. She made quick work of discarding the multi-colored gift bag paper to reveal two books. She pulled the first one out.

“Whoa,” she muttered as she took in a first edition copy of I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. She turned it over in her hands, mouth agape as she studied it. It was beautiful and she knew it cost a pretty penny.

Her hand reached into the bag and pulled out a book she knew all too well. Her own. An odd gift, she thought, though she supposed it was sweet that he went looking for it in the first place. She wondered how he found it as she published under a pseudonym but she imagined a man with his resources could find out almost anything he wanted with time.

She flipped it open as she sat back down on her bed, a smaller envelope the size of a card falling out of it. He had stuck it in on the acknowledgements page, which read: From one dreamer to another.

She opened Michael’s card and took in his handwriting.

Thank you for sharing what you did with me on your birthday. I know the day isn’t easy. And apologies that this gift was so late - but I figured this was a loophole in the no gifts rule if you got it weeks later? And it took some time to track down your book. You didn’t make it easy. I’m looking forward to reading it on my flight. I generally agree with everything you say but I would disagree with one thing you said that night. The first time we met, you said Maya Angelou’s book saved you and gave you hope. I’m sure somewhere in this world, a young girl is reading your book and it’s doing the same for her. That’s something good that came out of October 15: the world got you. And that’s worth celebrating in my opinion.

I hope, one day, you see that too.

Happy Birthday

Michael

Raven let the tears that streamed down her face fall, one of them splashing against the glossy cover of her book. She wiped it away before rereading his card over and over again. She hated how he seemed to see her, really see her, and everything she truly needed. There he was again, caring more than anyone else, more than he should have, even when she was mad at him. It just made her want him for every reason she shouldn’t. She should want to fuck him… she should want his money… That was all she signed up to get. A few months of cash and to let him dick her down better than she ever had been before. All her problems and loneliness solved, at least temporarily.

Instead, her heart and soul were slipping deep into dangerous territory, he was dangerous territory. She still tried to force herself to resist it, her body hanging by a rope that was fraying at the middle as if an invisible force was taking an ax to it. And she did not know if she wanted to scramble back onto the ledge or let herself fall.

After a few minutes, she picked up the other envelope and slid the folded up pieces of paper out of it. The first one made her gasp… a flight confirmation for a first class ticket to Paris dated for one week from today. The second page was a short list of the things she should pack. And the third was her hotel confirmation, a suite at a hotel she could not even pronounce but one quick google search let her know it was one of the nicest and most expensive hotels the city had to offer.

The last page only contained two sentences in Michael’s handwriting.

I hope you have a passport. See you in one week.

Raven spread the pages out on the counter, her face paralyzed in shock.

“What the actual fuck?” She examined all of them, rereading as if the information on them would vanish or change right before her eyes. But the flight confirmation had her name on it, the hotel room… her name. It was all there in black and white. He was inviting her to Paris.

“I should say no…” she spoke to herself, a false ring of conviction in her voice. “I can’t accept this.” Her internal debate raged as she paced up and down by the kitchen island, her eyes studying the papers with each pass.

You know you want to, the devil on her shoulder reasoned. And fuck, did she want to. It’s fun… when’s the last time we took a trip or did anything fun?

She had never wanted to accept anything as badly as she wanted to accept this. She chewed on her lip so hard she was surprised she did not draw blood as she debated and debated. Until her phone buzzed with a text from Mr. Surprises himself.

Michael: damn you sleep late as hell.

Michael: Am I gonna see you in Paris in a week?

Raven: This was a huge gamble… What if I didn’t have a passport? 🤔

Michael: It was a huge gamble but not because of the passport. Consider it PTO… Come live a little.

Michael: So did my gamble pay off or nah?

She read through the papers one more time, deciding then and there that she was 100% going to Paris. Even her pride could not allow her to deny herself this experience. However, she decided to make him sweat a little, though she doubted he actually would.

Raven: I guess you’ll find out in seven days. Thanks for the gift.

Raven locked her phone before chuckling to herself. She grabbed her phone and the itinerary page and let out an excited squeal and did a happy dance before she raced off to her closet. She had a trip to pack for.

Tag list: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333@roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc

***

A/N: Wellllllllll… a lot happened! A little angst, a little fluff, a little smut lol just gave y'all the full spectrum of things. And it wouldn't be one of my fics if I didn't give you a character or two to despise along the way lol

Next chapter, we go to Paris, which not gonna lie… that wasn't in the OG outline of this haha but inspiration struck and now I'm very excited lol Drop a comment and let me know all your thoughts lol Thanks for reading!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan x reader #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii

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