synopsis: michael loves pleasing you so much he has to record it for his future self to enjoy too!
warnings: sexual themes, smut, 18+
Click!
And you froze.
The faintest giggle from Michael’s mouth brought you up for air — disconnecting your swollen lips from his own.
You, as Michael’s long-term girl, knew that he was a troublemaker at times — often pulling silly stunts to get a rise out of you and make you laugh. But, rather, in this sense, make himself laugh.
But this, was definitely a new one.
“Mike, what is that?”
Michael sported a childish grin — the corners of his lips tugging each side as he fought to suppress it.
“A camera.”
“I can see that, honey, but what’s it doing out while we’re kissin’?” Your tone had Michael pulling his bottom lip between his lips.
“Wanted to try somethin’.” He revealed, his voice soft and sweet despite the sensual undertone.
You’d barely been situated in Michael’s lap five minutes, lips moving feverishly against his own, anticipating some intimacy with your man, before the clicking of the Sony Handycam CCD-M8U you bought him for his birthday started a recording.
“Come on, baby, keep goin’.” He whispered — behaving like a producer backstage of a performance, using hushed tones to support you with your next act.
You shook your head in protest — lips parting to tell him to turn that damn thing off. But, it was Michael’s way or no way. He perched up from slightly beneath you, capturing your lips again on his own. You could sense the camera on you as Michael slid his eager tongue into your mouth — the wet muscle exploring yours as his right hand levitated in the air, capturing every second of your private moment. His spare hand slid up the centre of your spine, fingers tips tracing the dip, pushing you closer to his chest.
“Michael, turn it of—“ “Shh, just let it happen, doll.”
His muffled dismissal against your lips had you huffing into his — giving up fighting him. Luckily for Michael, you soon forgot about his little friend in the air — your enclosed lip-locking becoming increasingly more heated as time pursed. Your hips ground against his own involuntarily, muscle memory kicking in from your many previous sensual encounters, eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat. Michael hummed into your mouth at the sound of your first pretty noise of the night — the excitement of his future self watching the tape back and watching your neediness increase in real time had him buzzing.
Michael bucked his hips up to meet yours halfway — a genuine whine of desperation leaving your mouth against his own, still locked in a ferocious kiss. Your hands encased his flushed cheeks, holding him dearly close to you, your whines blossoming into authentic moans of pleasure as your throbbingly touch-starved clit nudged against the painfully obvious bulge in his slacks.
Your lips left Michael’s in a frantic, needy frenzy — planting hot, open-mouthed kisses to his jawline, lips dragging along the spectacularly chiseled bone, smothering the skin in your mauve lipstick. Before following his anatomy and furthering your pout down his neck, licking a tentative stripe down the slope.
Michael shuddered under your brutal teasing, hands twitching around the camera ever so slightly. He peered up at it, ensuring he was capturing you in the perfect way.
“Gosh, baby, y’look so pretty like that.” Michael breathed, titling his head back to allow you to expand your surface area of tentative licks, “Kissin’ all on me like that.”
At this point, all the sense you had to smack that camera out of Michael’s hand had long left your head. Now, all you were interested in was pressing hot kisses down Michael’s chest, shoving the loose shirt off his torso to give yourself more room to worship his body with your mouth.
Above you, Michael had managed to shift the camera angle down, now holding the painfully obvious equipment with two hands, resting on his heaving chest — angling it just right to show your arched frame moving down his body, lipstick marks forming on his glossed skin. Your manicured hands reached the waistband of his slacks before peering your head up from his crotch, eyeing him seriously, as if to say put that thing away now.
“Please?” His pleading, slightly whiny voice had any form of judgment you’d once obtained now ten feet out the window as his eyes sparkled above you — lip threatening to fall into a pout as the camera taped you rolling your eyes before unbuckling his trousers, shoving them down his thighs. Michael grinned excitedly as you pressed your chest close to the aching bulge in his boxers.
“Wow, you really do like that camera, huh?” You teased, tracing a calculated finger down the ridge of his hard cock.
Michael hissed at the sudden, feather-light touch, knuckles going white around said tech, lip being gnawed by his pearly whites at the sight of you between legs.
“Quit teasin’.” He spoke shyly, his eyes flicking between the screen and your in-person frame, an anticipatory smile on his face.
Usually, Michael would dislike it when you suck his dick — believing his lady should be pleasured and looked after, not made to strain herself for only his gain. But, he knew how you secretly enjoyed having your throat stuffed full, rendering completely at your mercy, so every once in a while, he’d allow it.
That and you looked so pretty with his cock in your mouth.
Especially on camera.
So, when your lips wrapped around the flushed head of his proud cock, Michael didn’t know whether to focus on making sure every second of this was caught on video, or the feeling of intense delight you were succumbing him to. You suckled the tip just how he liked, his salty, yet equally delicious, pre-cum flooding your taste buds, relishing in the way the perfect dip in his eyebrows adorned his face — he was crumbling.
“S-Shit, sweetheart, doin’ so good.” He panted, thighs tensing against your hands as you steadied yourself on the meaty muscle.
You slid him deeper, tongue dancing over the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft, while your pretty fingers wrapped around the base, pumping him slowly in beat with your eager mouth. Michael watched you like a hawk — heart thumping in his chest so hard he was certain the tachycardia was going to send him into cardiac arrest at the way your seductive, doe eyes fluttered up at him through your lashes.
“Oh, Lord.” He heaved, head falling back against the pillow as the head of his swollen manhood punched the back of your throat — a loud gag of rejection sounding out into the room.
Michael secretly adored when you did that.
In his trance of lust, the camera slipped from his grasp, sliding down his side, leaving his hands free to slither down and cradle your face. You noticed.
“Ah, ah, ah!” You teased, pulling off his cock with a pop, saliva connecting you even in disengagement, “Thought you wanted it filmin’, angelface?”
Michael whined, trembling hands leaving your face to pull the camera back into his possession — focusing the lense to put you back into shot. Michael’s breath hitched at the sight — even on the choppy, blurry screen, your blown out pupils, tear-streaked, flushed red cheeks and swollen lips glossed with spit and his pre-cum had him twitching in your hand as you pumped him slowly.
“Look so fuckin’ good, girl.” He admitted, furrowed eyebrows hidden between the large hunk of plastic as he watched through it, “Can’t wait to watch this later.”
You laughed, pressing a kiss to the head, collecting the pre-cum that dribbled down him with the tip of your tongue, smiling at the way Michael whined, “Oh, you dirty dog, Michael Jackson.”
Michael chuckled cheekily, “Come up here, wanna feel you.”
Obeying his orders, you let his hardened cock fall against his tensed abdomen, climbing up him once more. Your hips settled either side of him against, clothed pussy lips now hugging the thickness of his cock through your soaked panties.
“Well, would you look at that?” He started, a teasing finger coming down to toy with your damp underwear, a whine leaving your lips at the tentative touches, “Looks like you’re enjoying this after all, hm?”
You failed to reply — words catching in your throat as his finger traced the outline of your aching clit through the thin material, your lips parting at the sheer sensuality of his touch.
“Where’s that teasin’ girl gone, hm? Cat got your tongue, mama?”
“Michael.” Your voice a whiny, needy plea of despair.
“What, baby? Talk to me. Tell me whatcha’ need.” He coaxed, his tone a gentle dominant force that your mouth rambling to answer, to please.
You whined, hips rolling against the hard of his cock, rubbing alongside the pad of his finger that remained flat against your nub, “Plea—please, need it—need to feel you.”
Michael’s hand, steadily holding the camera, angled it perfectly to show your needy pussy humping his cock, as well as the eyebrows knitted in lust on your pretty little face — his cock twitching at the thought of fucking his hand to the recording later.
Michael tapped your hip, demanding you lift your hips to have access to your drooling cunt. He peeled the drenched cotton panties from your puffy pussy lips, tucking them to the side of your vulva. With practiced ease, Michael slid an expert finger between the slickness of your cunt — collecting the sweet essence of your arousal on his digits. With methodical swiftness, a long finger of Michael’s slipped into the clenching hole which needed him most.
“Mmh, such a pretty pussy, doll. Got all wet just for me?”
Michael knew the answer, he just loved to hear you say it. Loved to hear you admit in your drunken state of ecstasy that he was the one to make you slick with arousal. Michael’s fingers moved with excellence you were stunned by each and every time — the relentless abuse against the sweet, spongy spot inside you that had you crying out, tears jerking from your ears at the sheer force of the sensation.
“Ooh, there she go,” He whispered, the ball of his hand coming up to roll against the excluded nub that was screaming for touch, a move that had you sobbing, “That’s the spot, huh, ma? So good it got you cryin’ f’me, hm?”
His name left your swollen, cum-stained lips in a wretched sob, nails digging into the flex of his bicep, gripping on for dear life as you fucked yourself onto his hand.
“Y-Yes! Yes—o-ah! Yes, God, Mike—gonna cum!”
Michael could’ve laughed at the way your face dropped in sheer disbelief as he pulled his hand away from your sopping cunt after your confession of near climax. Your chest heaved, clit throbbing as your eyes welled up, pulling on Michael’s heartstrings.
“Oh, sweet girl.” He laughed, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your pouting lips, “Need you to cum around my cock, babygirl, yeah? Can you do that for me, pretty lady?”
You nodded meekly, bottom lip still jutted out in protest as Michael guided his cock between your shaking legs. Just as his burning hot tip slid into the familiar, wet comforts of your hole — your disappointed pout fell into a gasp of relief.
Michael laughed, his free hand coming to pull on your bottom lip, cock slipping further inside you, “Don’t want this out again, you hear me? No poutin’ girls around here.”
You nodded feverishly — not ever wanting to disobey him, in fear he’d take away the one thing that’s fulfilling the desire that burned fiercely inside you, as he stretched you open, inch by inch. The camera, still rolling, captured all of this — the way each inch of his cock disappeared slowly, your pretty pussy lips wrapped around his shaft, your slick drooling around him.
You whined, feeling impossibly full as he bottomed out, seating you fully down onto his pelvis. His own bottom lip was sucked in between his teeth, admiring the sight of your perfect frame on top of him.
“Oh, I bet you’re so full, huh, baby? Usually don’t let y’ride me first — can feel that pussy throbbing.” He confessed, laughing softly as you whimpered, his free hand slithering up your bared body — making sure to record his hand palming your tits through your lacy bra.
Michael wasted no time pulling the material off your body, reaching behind you to flick the fastener apart one-handed — watching as the bra fell from your chest, your perky tits on full display to him, and the camera, of course. His teasing fingers crawled up you, grabbing a gentle handful of your right breast, humming at the feeling of the soft skin and the sound of your desperate moan. You shuffled around him — wincing at the feeling of his perfectly curved cock nudging your quivering walls, awaiting the approval to start moving.
No matter what you were doing — Michael was always in control.
Michael moved his hand to roll your erect nipple in between his nimble fingers, “Go’head, girl, show me how much you need it.”
You didn’t wait for him to change his mind, not that he would with the way you were clenching eagerly around him, lifting your hips off him, about half-way, before slamming back down. Your head fell back instinctively, a cry of sheer joy slipping from your lips, only encouraging Michael to throb inside you.
“Come on, sweetheart, falling apart after one bounce? Can do better than that.” He teased, smirking at the way you bit your lip shyly, suddenly embarrassed at how much effect he had over you.
Your hips rose again — now bouncing with the help of Michael’s tight grip on your hip, pulling you up and down on him. You whined, cheeks flushed in timidity as he hummed behind the screen.
“Oh, that’s the fuckin’ money shot, girl. My baby’s a natural. Look at that pussy—fuck, yeah, doll, keep goin’.”
Michael’s words of encouragement had you crying out — moaning in pure lust as his cock continued to relentlessly nudge against the best spot inside you, one he never failed to hit each time. Michael’s hand cradled your hips dominantly, grinding you down with each movement, rubbing your clit onto his neatly groomed pubic bone, failing to hide the smirk that crept onto his face at the sound of your needy noises.
“That’s it — let me hear you, darling.”
“Mike.” You whined, hand coming up to grabs handful of your tits and the other holding yourself up on his chest, slick with sweat. Michael’s eyes could’ve popped out of his head at the sight of you — seductively playing with your perky breasts, nipples rolling between your fingers like he once did, head thrown back, mouth agape letting your slutty moans fall upon his perked up ears.
Now, this was the shot.
Michael couldn’t wait another moment. Throwing the camera down on the bed, he lifted you up with both strong hands, pulling you off his slicked cock, and laying you down gently on the bed with ease.
“Mikey.” You whinged, “Please.”
“I know, sweet thing, ‘m coming back, don’t worry that pretty little head.” He reassured, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.
Michael slid you onto your side with ease, one shaking leg laying over the other, revealing your swollen cunt. He slid a soft hand over your skin, squeezing the plush of your ass, humming at the sight of you beneath him. He picked up the discarded camera once more, pointing it down at you once more.
“Now, this,” He started, “is the perfect position for when my baby’s gettin’ recorded. Y’know why, sweet girl?” He spoke, sliding the flushed head of his cock between your drooling folds, ignoring the way you whined loudly, peering up at him as if to beg him to shut up and just fuck you, “Because I can see this perfect ass, cute lil’ waist, beautiful titties, and most importantly,” He complimented cheekily, free hand sliding over each body part as he listed them, before gripping your chin between his index finger and thumb, “This pretty little face makin’ the cutest faces while I fuck her needy little pussy.”
Michael entered you in one swift motion — the cutest faces he was referring to filling your expression, a loud cry leaving your lips. His name fell from your mouth like a prayer, a chant, as he rocked into you deeply — his cock-end nudging your cervix each time, sending you clawing at the bedsheets. Pleased with himself, Michael smiled behind the camera once more, angling it down perfectly to capture every aspect of you he listed — tits bouncing, ass recoiling against his abdomen, face contorted into pleasure and his cock sliding in and out of your raw cunt, a white, milky ring forming around the base of him.
Michael was in heaven — knowing this video wouldn’t be your last as he watched you through the small screen, hand now clawing at his flexed arm, nails digging into the skin as he filled you.
“Michael, Michael!—fuck, Mike, please, God, fuc—“
“Hmm, that’s right, dollface, tell me all about it. Feelin’ good?”
You whined desperately, clit throbbing against his free hand that had slithered between your sweating bodies to rub tight, practiced circled onto the aching nub, “Gonna fuckin’ cum, Mikey, please, don’t sto—ah!”
“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, sweet girl,” He admitted, leaning down, not caring about the camera angle, as he pressed soft kisses to your face, some landing on your parted lips, now only bothered about your pleasure, “Cum around me, baby, wanna feel it.”
The nearing peak of your orgasm crawled down your body, nestling in your abdomen, body slowly igniting in fierce heat. The sheer explicitness of the intimate moment had adrenaline and lust pumping through your veins. Your trembling hand reached across the bed, taking a hold of the camera once more, holding it out for him.
“Want it to see you fill me up wit—ah!—with your cum, Mikey, please.”
“Oh, fuck.”
Your provocative declaration had him frantic — doubling over, one hand on the bed, the other steadying the camera, fucking you twice as fast. Your cries only getting louder as he pounded the sweet spot inside you over and over again, his name being screamed so loud you were certain the whole house could hear.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah—there! ‘M there!”
You orgasmed with a cry so loud it had Michael cursing under his breath at the eroticism — revelling in the way your cunt squeezed him, sucking him in further as you came around him, nails dragging down his tensed back.
Michael wasn’t far behind you, fighting every urge in him to throw the camera away and fuck his seed so far into you that you’d be swollen with him for days, but holding it firmly in his grasp, recording just how sweetly your cunt milked him for everything he had to offer, your slickness pooling beneath you. He, though, forced himself as deep into you as he could go — making sure the camera picked up on his your cunt accommodated the sheer size of him, his milky white cum now frothing around the base of his softening cock.
He slowly pulled himself out of you with a wince, “Hold still for me, babygirl.” He ordered, forcing your legs to stay open as he leant down between your thighs, groaning at the way his cum drooled out of your swollen cunt, sliding down your shaking thighs.
Feeling a sense of post-orgasm confidence, you slid two tentative fingers between your legs, dipping into your sopping cunt, collecting both your juices onto your digits. Michael could sense where this was going, softened cock twitching, threatening to harden as you slipped your slick fingers into your mouth — sucking the mix of your salty and tangy essences clean from your burning skin.
“Holy shit, baby,” Michael breathed, feeling as though he was capturing pure talent through the screen as you released your fingers with a pop, similar to how you did with his cock prior, eyeing the camera with a knowing smirk,
synopsis: michael loves pleasing you so much he has to record it for his future self to enjoy too!
warnings: sexual themes, smut, 18+
Click!
And you froze.
The faintest giggle from Michael’s mouth brought you up for air — disconnecting your swollen lips from his own.
You, as Michael’s long-term girl, knew that he was a troublemaker at times — often pulling silly stunts to get a rise out of you and make you laugh. But, rather, in this sense, make himself laugh.
But this, was definitely a new one.
“Mike, what is that?”
Michael sported a childish grin — the corners of his lips tugging each side as he fought to suppress it.
“A camera.”
“I can see that, honey, but what’s it doing out while we’re kissin’?” Your tone had Michael pulling his bottom lip between his lips.
“Wanted to try somethin’.” He revealed, his voice soft and sweet despite the sensual undertone.
You’d barely been situated in Michael’s lap five minutes, lips moving feverishly against his own, anticipating some intimacy with your man, before the clicking of the Sony Handycam CCD-M8U you bought him for his birthday started a recording.
“Come on, baby, keep goin’.” He whispered — behaving like a producer backstage of a performance, using hushed tones to support you with your next act.
You shook your head in protest — lips parting to tell him to turn that damn thing off. But, it was Michael’s way or no way. He perched up from slightly beneath you, capturing your lips again on his own. You could sense the camera on you as Michael slid his eager tongue into your mouth — the wet muscle exploring yours as his right hand levitated in the air, capturing every second of your private moment. His spare hand slid up the centre of your spine, fingers tips tracing the dip, pushing you closer to his chest.
“Michael, turn it of—“ “Shh, just let it happen, doll.”
His muffled dismissal against your lips had you huffing into his — giving up fighting him. Luckily for Michael, you soon forgot about his little friend in the air — your enclosed lip-locking becoming increasingly more heated as time pursed. Your hips ground against his own involuntarily, muscle memory kicking in from your many previous sensual encounters, eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat. Michael hummed into your mouth at the sound of your first pretty noise of the night — the excitement of his future self watching the tape back and watching your neediness increase in real time had him buzzing.
Michael bucked his hips up to meet yours halfway — a genuine whine of desperation leaving your mouth against his own, still locked in a ferocious kiss. Your hands encased his flushed cheeks, holding him dearly close to you, your whines blossoming into authentic moans of pleasure as your throbbingly touch-starved clit nudged against the painfully obvious bulge in his slacks.
Your lips left Michael’s in a frantic, needy frenzy — planting hot, open-mouthed kisses to his jawline, lips dragging along the spectacularly chiseled bone, smothering the skin in your mauve lipstick. Before following his anatomy and furthering your pout down his neck, licking a tentative stripe down the slope.
Michael shuddered under your brutal teasing, hands twitching around the camera ever so slightly. He peered up at it, ensuring he was capturing you in the perfect way.
“Gosh, baby, y’look so pretty like that.” Michael breathed, titling his head back to allow you to expand your surface area of tentative licks, “Kissin’ all on me like that.”
At this point, all the sense you had to smack that camera out of Michael’s hand had long left your head. Now, all you were interested in was pressing hot kisses down Michael’s chest, shoving the loose shirt off his torso to give yourself more room to worship his body with your mouth.
Above you, Michael had managed to shift the camera angle down, now holding the painfully obvious equipment with two hands, resting on his heaving chest — angling it just right to show your arched frame moving down his body, lipstick marks forming on his glossed skin. Your manicured hands reached the waistband of his slacks before peering your head up from his crotch, eyeing him seriously, as if to say put that thing away now.
“Please?” His pleading, slightly whiny voice had any form of judgment you’d once obtained now ten feet out the window as his eyes sparkled above you — lip threatening to fall into a pout as the camera taped you rolling your eyes before unbuckling his trousers, shoving them down his thighs. Michael grinned excitedly as you pressed your chest close to the aching bulge in his boxers.
“Wow, you really do like that camera, huh?” You teased, tracing a calculated finger down the ridge of his hard cock.
Michael hissed at the sudden, feather-light touch, knuckles going white around said tech, lip being gnawed by his pearly whites at the sight of you between legs.
“Quit teasin’.” He spoke shyly, his eyes flicking between the screen and your in-person frame, an anticipatory smile on his face.
Usually, Michael would dislike it when you suck his dick — believing his lady should be pleasured and looked after, not made to strain herself for only his gain. But, he knew how you secretly enjoyed having your throat stuffed full, rendering completely at your mercy, so every once in a while, he’d allow it.
That and you looked so pretty with his cock in your mouth.
Especially on camera.
So, when your lips wrapped around the flushed head of his proud cock, Michael didn’t know whether to focus on making sure every second of this was caught on video, or the feeling of intense delight you were succumbing him to. You suckled the tip just how he liked, his salty, yet equally delicious, pre-cum flooding your taste buds, relishing in the way the perfect dip in his eyebrows adorned his face — he was crumbling.
“S-Shit, sweetheart, doin’ so good.” He panted, thighs tensing against your hands as you steadied yourself on the meaty muscle.
You slid him deeper, tongue dancing over the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft, while your pretty fingers wrapped around the base, pumping him slowly in beat with your eager mouth. Michael watched you like a hawk — heart thumping in his chest so hard he was certain the tachycardia was going to send him into cardiac arrest at the way your seductive, doe eyes fluttered up at him through your lashes.
“Oh, Lord.” He heaved, head falling back against the pillow as the head of his swollen manhood punched the back of your throat — a loud gag of rejection sounding out into the room.
Michael secretly adored when you did that.
In his trance of lust, the camera slipped from his grasp, sliding down his side, leaving his hands free to slither down and cradle your face. You noticed.
“Ah, ah, ah!” You teased, pulling off his cock with a pop, saliva connecting you even in disengagement, “Thought you wanted it filmin’, angelface?”
Michael whined, trembling hands leaving your face to pull the camera back into his possession — focusing the lense to put you back into shot. Michael’s breath hitched at the sight — even on the choppy, blurry screen, your blown out pupils, tear-streaked, flushed red cheeks and swollen lips glossed with spit and his pre-cum had him twitching in your hand as you pumped him slowly.
“Look so fuckin’ good, girl.” He admitted, furrowed eyebrows hidden between the large hunk of plastic as he watched through it, “Can’t wait to watch this later.”
You laughed, pressing a kiss to the head, collecting the pre-cum that dribbled down him with the tip of your tongue, smiling at the way Michael whined, “Oh, you dirty dog, Michael Jackson.”
Michael chuckled cheekily, “Come up here, wanna feel you.”
Obeying his orders, you let his hardened cock fall against his tensed abdomen, climbing up him once more. Your hips settled either side of him against, clothed pussy lips now hugging the thickness of his cock through your soaked panties.
“Well, would you look at that?” He started, a teasing finger coming down to toy with your damp underwear, a whine leaving your lips at the tentative touches, “Looks like you’re enjoying this after all, hm?”
You failed to reply — words catching in your throat as his finger traced the outline of your aching clit through the thin material, your lips parting at the sheer sensuality of his touch.
“Where’s that teasin’ girl gone, hm? Cat got your tongue, mama?”
“Michael.” Your voice a whiny, needy plea of despair.
“What, baby? Talk to me. Tell me whatcha’ need.” He coaxed, his tone a gentle dominant force that your mouth rambling to answer, to please.
You whined, hips rolling against the hard of his cock, rubbing alongside the pad of his finger that remained flat against your nub, “Plea—please, need it—need to feel you.”
Michael’s hand, steadily holding the camera, angled it perfectly to show your needy pussy humping his cock, as well as the eyebrows knitted in lust on your pretty little face — his cock twitching at the thought of fucking his hand to the recording later.
Michael tapped your hip, demanding you lift your hips to have access to your drooling cunt. He peeled the drenched cotton panties from your puffy pussy lips, tucking them to the side of your vulva. With practiced ease, Michael slid an expert finger between the slickness of your cunt — collecting the sweet essence of your arousal on his digits. With methodical swiftness, a long finger of Michael’s slipped into the clenching hole which needed him most.
“Mmh, such a pretty pussy, doll. Got all wet just for me?”
Michael knew the answer, he just loved to hear you say it. Loved to hear you admit in your drunken state of ecstasy that he was the one to make you slick with arousal. Michael’s fingers moved with excellence you were stunned by each and every time — the relentless abuse against the sweet, spongy spot inside you that had you crying out, tears jerking from your ears at the sheer force of the sensation.
“Ooh, there she go,” He whispered, the ball of his hand coming up to roll against the excluded nub that was screaming for touch, a move that had you sobbing, “That’s the spot, huh, ma? So good it got you cryin’ f’me, hm?”
His name left your swollen, cum-stained lips in a wretched sob, nails digging into the flex of his bicep, gripping on for dear life as you fucked yourself onto his hand.
“Y-Yes! Yes—o-ah! Yes, God, Mike—gonna cum!”
Michael could’ve laughed at the way your face dropped in sheer disbelief as he pulled his hand away from your sopping cunt after your confession of near climax. Your chest heaved, clit throbbing as your eyes welled up, pulling on Michael’s heartstrings.
“Oh, sweet girl.” He laughed, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your pouting lips, “Need you to cum around my cock, babygirl, yeah? Can you do that for me, pretty lady?”
You nodded meekly, bottom lip still jutted out in protest as Michael guided his cock between your shaking legs. Just as his burning hot tip slid into the familiar, wet comforts of your hole — your disappointed pout fell into a gasp of relief.
Michael laughed, his free hand coming to pull on your bottom lip, cock slipping further inside you, “Don’t want this out again, you hear me? No poutin’ girls around here.”
You nodded feverishly — not ever wanting to disobey him, in fear he’d take away the one thing that’s fulfilling the desire that burned fiercely inside you, as he stretched you open, inch by inch. The camera, still rolling, captured all of this — the way each inch of his cock disappeared slowly, your pretty pussy lips wrapped around his shaft, your slick drooling around him.
You whined, feeling impossibly full as he bottomed out, seating you fully down onto his pelvis. His own bottom lip was sucked in between his teeth, admiring the sight of your perfect frame on top of him.
“Oh, I bet you’re so full, huh, baby? Usually don’t let y’ride me first — can feel that pussy throbbing.” He confessed, laughing softly as you whimpered, his free hand slithering up your bared body — making sure to record his hand palming your tits through your lacy bra.
Michael wasted no time pulling the material off your body, reaching behind you to flick the fastener apart one-handed — watching as the bra fell from your chest, your perky tits on full display to him, and the camera, of course. His teasing fingers crawled up you, grabbing a gentle handful of your right breast, humming at the feeling of the soft skin and the sound of your desperate moan. You shuffled around him — wincing at the feeling of his perfectly curved cock nudging your quivering walls, awaiting the approval to start moving.
No matter what you were doing — Michael was always in control.
Michael moved his hand to roll your erect nipple in between his nimble fingers, “Go’head, girl, show me how much you need it.”
You didn’t wait for him to change his mind, not that he would with the way you were clenching eagerly around him, lifting your hips off him, about half-way, before slamming back down. Your head fell back instinctively, a cry of sheer joy slipping from your lips, only encouraging Michael to throb inside you.
“Come on, sweetheart, falling apart after one bounce? Can do better than that.” He teased, smirking at the way you bit your lip shyly, suddenly embarrassed at how much effect he had over you.
Your hips rose again — now bouncing with the help of Michael’s tight grip on your hip, pulling you up and down on him. You whined, cheeks flushed in timidity as he hummed behind the screen.
“Oh, that’s the fuckin’ money shot, girl. My baby’s a natural. Look at that pussy—fuck, yeah, doll, keep goin’.”
Michael’s words of encouragement had you crying out — moaning in pure lust as his cock continued to relentlessly nudge against the best spot inside you, one he never failed to hit each time. Michael’s hand cradled your hips dominantly, grinding you down with each movement, rubbing your clit onto his neatly groomed pubic bone, failing to hide the smirk that crept onto his face at the sound of your needy noises.
“That’s it — let me hear you, darling.”
“Mike.” You whined, hand coming up to grabs handful of your tits and the other holding yourself up on his chest, slick with sweat. Michael’s eyes could’ve popped out of his head at the sight of you — seductively playing with your perky breasts, nipples rolling between your fingers like he once did, head thrown back, mouth agape letting your slutty moans fall upon his perked up ears.
Now, this was the shot.
Michael couldn’t wait another moment. Throwing the camera down on the bed, he lifted you up with both strong hands, pulling you off his slicked cock, and laying you down gently on the bed with ease.
“Mikey.” You whinged, “Please.”
“I know, sweet thing, ‘m coming back, don’t worry that pretty little head.” He reassured, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.
Michael slid you onto your side with ease, one shaking leg laying over the other, revealing your swollen cunt. He slid a soft hand over your skin, squeezing the plush of your ass, humming at the sight of you beneath him. He picked up the discarded camera once more, pointing it down at you once more.
“Now, this,” He started, “is the perfect position for when my baby’s gettin’ recorded. Y’know why, sweet girl?” He spoke, sliding the flushed head of his cock between your drooling folds, ignoring the way you whined loudly, peering up at him as if to beg him to shut up and just fuck you, “Because I can see this perfect ass, cute lil’ waist, beautiful titties, and most importantly,” He complimented cheekily, free hand sliding over each body part as he listed them, before gripping your chin between his index finger and thumb, “This pretty little face makin’ the cutest faces while I fuck her needy little pussy.”
Michael entered you in one swift motion — the cutest faces he was referring to filling your expression, a loud cry leaving your lips. His name fell from your mouth like a prayer, a chant, as he rocked into you deeply — his cock-end nudging your cervix each time, sending you clawing at the bedsheets. Pleased with himself, Michael smiled behind the camera once more, angling it down perfectly to capture every aspect of you he listed — tits bouncing, ass recoiling against his abdomen, face contorted into pleasure and his cock sliding in and out of your raw cunt, a white, milky ring forming around the base of him.
Michael was in heaven — knowing this video wouldn’t be your last as he watched you through the small screen, hand now clawing at his flexed arm, nails digging into the skin as he filled you.
“Michael, Michael!—fuck, Mike, please, God, fuc—“
“Hmm, that’s right, dollface, tell me all about it. Feelin’ good?”
You whined desperately, clit throbbing against his free hand that had slithered between your sweating bodies to rub tight, practiced circled onto the aching nub, “Gonna fuckin’ cum, Mikey, please, don’t sto—ah!”
“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, sweet girl,” He admitted, leaning down, not caring about the camera angle, as he pressed soft kisses to your face, some landing on your parted lips, now only bothered about your pleasure, “Cum around me, baby, wanna feel it.”
The nearing peak of your orgasm crawled down your body, nestling in your abdomen, body slowly igniting in fierce heat. The sheer explicitness of the intimate moment had adrenaline and lust pumping through your veins. Your trembling hand reached across the bed, taking a hold of the camera once more, holding it out for him.
“Want it to see you fill me up wit—ah!—with your cum, Mikey, please.”
“Oh, fuck.”
Your provocative declaration had him frantic — doubling over, one hand on the bed, the other steadying the camera, fucking you twice as fast. Your cries only getting louder as he pounded the sweet spot inside you over and over again, his name being screamed so loud you were certain the whole house could hear.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah—there! ‘M there!”
You orgasmed with a cry so loud it had Michael cursing under his breath at the eroticism — revelling in the way your cunt squeezed him, sucking him in further as you came around him, nails dragging down his tensed back.
Michael wasn’t far behind you, fighting every urge in him to throw the camera away and fuck his seed so far into you that you’d be swollen with him for days, but holding it firmly in his grasp, recording just how sweetly your cunt milked him for everything he had to offer, your slickness pooling beneath you. He, though, forced himself as deep into you as he could go — making sure the camera picked up on his your cunt accommodated the sheer size of him, his milky white cum now frothing around the base of his softening cock.
He slowly pulled himself out of you with a wince, “Hold still for me, babygirl.” He ordered, forcing your legs to stay open as he leant down between your thighs, groaning at the way his cum drooled out of your swollen cunt, sliding down your shaking thighs.
Feeling a sense of post-orgasm confidence, you slid two tentative fingers between your legs, dipping into your sopping cunt, collecting both your juices onto your digits. Michael could sense where this was going, softened cock twitching, threatening to harden as you slipped your slick fingers into your mouth — sucking the mix of your salty and tangy essences clean from your burning skin.
“Holy shit, baby,” Michael breathed, feeling as though he was capturing pure talent through the screen as you released your fingers with a pop, similar to how you did with his cock prior, eyeing the camera with a knowing smirk,
through every era, him. 18+ (i got super carried away so enjoy a long one!)
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
150 days.
150 excruciatingly long days without him.
150 days since Michael cut the cord — ending your three year long relationship on a whim.
It came as a shock — something you would’ve never thought in your worst nightmare that would come true.
You had crawled into bed with Michael one night, skin glistening from the expensive floral scented lotion you’d just delicately rubbed into your skin, settling comfortably in the sheets next to him. He was quieter that night — he mumbled at dinner, barely conversing with you, playing with his food. Michael didn’t have a large appetite, so his lack of eating hadn’t phased you as much as it did now. You didn’t expect him to be too chatty that night either, you had already had a heated disagreement a few hours earlier that remained unresolved — something that was becoming more frequent in recent times due to his demanding career.
So, when you nestled against him, his hands rigid at his sides, was when you noticed something was undeniably wrong.
“Is everything okay, baby?” You asked, peering up from his chest to glance at his pokerface.
“I think we should split up.”
The words hit you full-force, panic and shock instantly flooding your emotion — sitting up so frantically it made Michael flinch.
“What? What the hell are you talking about?” Your voice was frantic and distressed, face forced into a scrunch of anxiety.
Michael stayed silent for a few moments, not daring to meet your eyes, just staring blankly at the wall next to him.
“Michael, don’t fucking joke with me. Fucking say something.”
“Stop cursing, please.” He forced out, voice hoarse and low, attempting to keep his dignity.
You scoffed in disbelief, “So, you blurt out that you wanna break-up, but all you care about is a curse? Are you fucking serious?” Anger was the emotion at the forefront of your brain now, utterly disgusted with his coldness towards you mixed with the cruelty of his words.
“Things are complicated right now.” He started, still facing away from you, “I’ve got the album and the tour, and we’re fighting too much already because of it. It’s not good for us especially if I’m away for long periods of time. You deserve someone who can be around for you. Someone better.” He sighed, shaking his head, “I don’t want to let this progress and then end up hurting one another more.”
“‘Let this progress?’ Michael we’ve been together for three years, nearly four. You didn’t think to end things three and half years ago if you didn’t wanna get hurt? Are you serious?”
“I still love you, I just want to protect us both from pain.” He spoke quietly.
“Love? This isn’t love, Michael, this is cruel. This is worse pain. Someone who loved me wouldn’t treat me like this. Why are you doing this to me? To us?”
His heart clenched as your voice cracked, not brave enough to look you in your eyes, now brimming with tears.
“I’m sorry.”
The words felt faux as they left his lips — silencing encasing the room. You scoffed, standing up swiftly from the bed, rushing into the bathroom, slamming the door harshly behind you. You missed the way Michael flinched once more as the loud sound echoed throughout the quiet room, a single tear falling down his cold cheek — attempting to ignore your wails of despair from behind the door.
He saw you for the last time as you rushed out of the bathroom — bag full of your toiletries in hand as you raced towards the bedroom door, sobbing.
He called your name, but you cut him off, swearing brutally at him, along the lines of ‘Go fuck yourself, Michael’. Your memory of that night wavered thin now — your brain compartmentalising the pain to the back of your mind, pushing it the furthest away from to prevent you from punishing yourself with the hurtful memory.
You were packed and moved out the same night — moving back in with your parents, who comforted you for weeks on end as you experienced the worst heartbreak you’d ever felt in your life. The one person you loved and trusted the most in your life had been the one to hurt you the most, too. It was a strange phenomenon — to still love and yearn for the person causing you agonising misery.
At month one, you spent most days in bed — wallowing in your despair, reading old love-letters, staring at photos taken on your first tropical vacation, your anniversary, his birthday. You were torturing yourself — a bittersweet pain that you struggled to rid yourself of. Ending most nights by sobbing into your hand as you read the newspapers — headlines of your split plastered everywhere. Utterly devastated at how disgusting tabloids portrayed you as a deadweight on Michael’s blossoming career, that you were only dragging him down, that he made a good decision to free himself of you.
By month two, you got back to work. You had managed to find your new routine — working hard on your own music, pouring your damaged heart into each song, passion flowing from your lips with each lyric. You didn’t cry as much — only now and again when Michael would pop up on the television, his new album ‘Bad’ going world platinum again, just as his others did, his success booming. What irked you most was he looked perfectly fine — smiling happily for the cameras, performing on stage on tour with pure, irrevocable talent, adoration and excitement oozing off of him, like he didn’t destroy someone’s life two months ago.
By month three, you acted unaffected. You’d moved out into your own place — gaining some unwanted independence. You began going about your life like you’d never met him — going on a few dates, dancing at clubs with your friends with guys you were a stranger to, late night calls with men you knew deep down would never compare, but indulging in the fun of it nonetheless— heart fuelled by anger and frustration, desperate to get back at him. When you finally moved on sexually, you were irritatingly disappointed — no man on the planet could please you like Michael had. That’s what filled you with pure rage. Faking orgasms and pretending as though their cock’s even made half the stretch that Michael’s did had you furious — often pushing them away mid sex, ordering them to get out of your apartment.
You were now almost at month six and the ice in your heart towards Michael hadn’t let up.
You pretended, to your family and friends, that you were over it — that it didn’t affect you anymore. That you had totally moved on with your life. Wrong. You were still livid deep down — not a single day going by where you didn’t curl your fists up in fury at the thought of him. Fury that you still had an annoyingly large place for him in your heart — that no matter how bitter you tried to convince yourself you were about him, it did nothing to dilute the sickly sweetness that overpowered your heart.
And that lovesick heart of yours was pounding violently in your chest right now.
Sat in the back of a limousine, dolled up to the Gods — hair, makeup and outfit perfected to a T, you looked divine. So divine you were determined to make a statement — one just as bad his.
Ironic.
The man in question who you were dying to shock, self-proclaimed as ‘bad’, connotations to his new album, was someone you believed to be sweet, tender and loving. An album title you always thought was truly ironic as he was quite the opposite.
Not as of recent.
Diana Ross had been a thorn in your side since the day you and Michael met. Her relentless flirtatious energy towards the man you craved was angering — even before you called it official was she persistent with her teasing.
“So, you’re the girl Michael keeps talkin’ so much about.” She drawled, the day you met her, your handshake harsher than usual as you gripped her bony hand in your own, “Not his girl, yet though, right?” She laughed, “Better snatch that handsome thing up before I do.”
You confessed your love to Michael that night.
You did truly have intense feelings for him — but that old cow had given you the push you needed. No way in hell was she going to take him away from you — not on your watch.
So, rightfully so, you were anxious at the thought of her finding out about your split — wondering what her next move would be. You’d spend everyday reading the newspapers in a panic, skimming through a thousand words a second in an attempt to find any news of them being spotted together.
And the day came — a week before The 1988 Soul Train Music Awards. The very award ceremony you were heading to, looking so beautiful.
Michael and Diana were front page — pressed tightly against one another at a famous club. His smile was bright, wide and genuine — something you’d missed seeing in person, now adorning his captivating face because of that witch. She had looped her arm through his, the picture capturing her pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. The title read ‘MICHAEL MOVING ON ALREADY? — OLD FLAME REIGNITED’
Oh, he had really done it this time.
He knew how much you hated her — loathed her, actually. The older woman often getting in the way of your relationship throughout the years you were together — despite having a husband herself, she was betrothed with your man.
So, even if technically he didn’t owe you a thing as you weren’t his anymore, you silently felt fury at him for letting her kiss him for the cameras.
Therefore, your only response was to fight fire with fire — childish? Maybe. But, clever? Absolutely.
“You ready, sweetheart?”
The sound of Prince’s voice next to you in the limo tugged a devilish smirk onto your face as you nodded.
If Michael wanted to play dirty — you would play real dirty.
The car had rolled to a stop — flashes of the paparazzi’s intrusive cameras burnt into your vision as the driver pulled the door open. You stepped out, smoothing your dress, a wide smile on your face, waving sweetly as you waited for your date to exit the vehicle.
If you thought the flash was bright before, you were mistaken. Spots blurred into your vision as Prince stood next to you, instantly taking your hand in his own, confidence oozing from him as always, before smiling down at you. You turned to him — pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, lipstick now smeared across his skin, earning a knowing laugh from his throat.
Cha-ching!
Those pictures, dripping with revenge, were a real moneymaker — something that would put that sloppy, old hag’s attempt to make you jealous to shame.
Everyone knew of the musical feud between Michael and Prince — the two men battling for the title of ‘the biggest star in the world’. You knew that Michael took the cake — but, you also knew that seeing his biggest rival with his ex-girl would shut down any attempt of riling you up.
“Nicely done.” Prince whispered, lips close to your ear as you were ushered inside the building. He was aware of your vengeful plan — and more than willing to help aggravate his arch nemesis.
“You too.” You sent a wink his way, engaging in a childish, unison giggle, knowing exactly what you were doing was going to end messy, “I’ll see you later.”
You parted ways with your exes nemesis, not before letting him press a calculated kiss to your knuckles, peripheral vision burning as more cameras captured your (fake) romantic moment, before being ushered to your assigned seat.
You were fairly near the stage, around three rows in front, next to your favourite female pop-star and close friend, Whitney Houston. A real, genuine smile burst across your face when she seated herself next to you.
“Girl.” She breathed out a laugh, placing her clutch bag gently in her lap.
“What?” You laughed, smiling across at her in confusion.
“Honey, I think you know what.” She shook her head with a grin, “You made quite the entrance back there.”
Perfect.
The corners of your lips tugged up into a deeper smile, “Then my plan is working.”
Whitney chuckled, “I just know that poor man is beyond ticked off right now.”
“‘Poor man’?” You scoffed, “He is far from poor. You saw the papers, right?”
“Everybody did, sweetie.”
“Number one, not helpful,” You pointed a finger at her, ignoring the way she cackled, “And two, he had it comin’” You paused, “Everyone, including him, knows how much I hate her.”
“Hate who?”
You froze — the infamously familiar voice that once had you smiling like a damn idiot before, now had your face falling as your head lurched behind you.
And there he was.
Michael.
In all his annoying glory — sporting a dashing red button-up, a sleek tie around his neck, paired with a black suit jacket, that hugged the curve of the lean muscles in his arms in a way that your breath hitching in your throat.
It aggravated you that he looked so good.
But, you knew that he knew that you looked better.
Your irritation only blossomed as you glanced at the seat to your right — eyes rolling in annoyance as his name, scribbled onto a flimsy piece of paper on the chair right next to you, hit your vision.
Fuck award show assigned seats.
“Well, shit, girl.” Whitney mumbled, laughing under her breath as she turned away from the tension that was rising as Michael took his seat.
“Hello.” He spoke, voice soft and gentle, just like you remembered.
“That’s all you have to say to me?” Your voice came out harsher than expected, an angered frown visible on your face as a grin bloomed on his.
His mouth went to open, but you cut him off, hand shooing him away, “Actually, don’t even speak to me, please.”
“You look beautiful.”
“What did I just say Michael?”
You hated the way he smirked at your snappy tone, lip coming between his teeth as he obeyed your request, getting comfortable in his chair. You also hated the way your heart did an extremely noticeable flip in your chest at the compliment.
This night was going to be the death of you.
And it only got worse as Michael retreated to the stage, not once, but twice — each time looking more gracious and handsome as the next. He won Best Single and Album of the Year for Bad — the trophies enclosed around his beautiful, slender hands, ones that once gave you blissful satisfaction.
You despised your weak mind for the way you let it run away with itself — eyes trailing over his tall, elegant frame each time he’d take the stage. That infamous smile that had you weak at the knees did nothing to cool the desire that was overpowering your anger, the yearn for him only increasing.
Michael thumped into his seat next to you with a sigh, now two awards richer, running a hand through his long curls that cascaded down his shoulders.
You could sense he was looking at you — his smiling face visible in your side eye-line, but you refused to turn, your eyes fixated on the stage as the next category was revealed.
“Saw your little stunt earlier.” He whispered, “Real classy.”
You scoffed quietly, “That’s rich.”
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
You knew that tone — that cocky, teasing tone that had you gritting your teeth.
You finally turned to face him, “Oh, right. I’m sure letting that old crow kiss you is a regular thing now, huh?”
“Saw that, did you?” He was testing you, it was evident in the way the knowing smirk on his face never faltered.
You were halfheartedly listening as your name was read for the nomination, not even bothering to care as you held your gaze with the man seated next to you — a brutal lock of eyes that said a thousand words. You were furious, failing to hide it miserably, and he, well, he was enjoying it.
“I did.” You started, “Nice to see a downgrade was my replacement.”
Michael’s smile flickered at your harsh dig at his life-long friend, “I think I could say the same about your date.”
“At least I have one.”
That sure wiped the smirk off his face.
“And definitely not a downgrade in the bedroom.”
You basked in his shock — the smirk he once sported now adorning your face, nearly missing the way your name was called from the stage, the room erupting in applause.
“Excuse me?” Michael’s voice was bitter, cold, mortified at your admission. A false one at that, but he didn’t need to know. Yet.
“Sorry, can’t hear you.” You shrugged him off, rising to your feet with a proud smile — at your award mostly, but also at your triumphant win in the petty disagreement, as loud cheers exploded in your ears.
You took the stage — a new found confidence oozing off of you, a gorgeous smile on your face as you took the award from the announcer’s hands, pulling them into a small hug. You thanked your producer, musical team, family and friends — humbleness evident in every word you spoke.
You looked perfect — utterly radiant under the bright lighting blaring down onto the stage, award glistening in your hands as your pearly white smile twinkled in the spotlight.
Michael, albeit still in an angered daze over your admission, couldn’t help himself but rake his eyes over your frame — breasts pushed perfectly up your corseted dress, the curve of the plush mounds visible to everyone’s eyes from the audience, eyes never leaving those perfect tits he’d once nestle his face into as he flung your legs over his shoulders and filled you to the hilt with his cock.
The thought had him readjusting his slacks — hard-on now painful against the restrictive clothing at the delicious reminiscing of your love-making.
It was your next words that had the sexual memories leaving his head.
“And I wanna thank my wonderful date for tonight— matter of fact, come up here! Prince, where y’at, honey?”
The room erupted into cheers once more — everyone but Michael, who attempted to drown out Whitney’s disbelieving laughter from two seats down from him, watching as you shielded your eyes from the light, searching for the man in the crowd.
Michael stared lethal daggers into Prince’s back as he sauntered up the stairs to the stage — his chest heaving in undeniable envy as he watched Prince pull you into a tight hug. Those gorgeous breasts now pressed up against Prince’s chest.
He was livid. Hands tightening around the material of his trousers, knuckles white as his grip turned taut.
“Not only is he a Pop King,” The room exchanged hushed gasps at the title, one that everyone knew belonged to your furious ex, “But, he’s also a fantastic plus one.” Laughs fizzled out the shock at your insinuation that Prince was only there with you, not for his own musical nominations.
Michael, however, had never felt fury quite like it.
That title was his.
One he worked so hard for — something him and that idiot, in his mind, up on stage with you had fought over for so many years. And you knew that.
He knew you were aggravating him deliberately.
Prince smirked, eyes finding Michael’s in the crowd, expression darkening, “Sorry, Michael.”
And with a smooth arm wrapped around your back, and a swift dip in the air — he kissed you.
Well, not actually.
His lips attached to the corner of your mouth, barely touching, but to the audience, and more importantly, the cameras, it looked as though your ex-boyfriend’s fiercest enemy was kissing the life out of you on stage.
And, boy, did everyone in the room eat it up.
Standing ovations and screams of joy sounded in the room as they clapped — basking in the pure drama of it all.
Prince pulled away from you with a smile, winking at you as you laughed, shaking your head. He took his hand in yours, guiding you backstage, the noise of the crowd dying down as you were ushered away.
“You’re evil.” You chuckled, chest heaving from the adrenaline.
“Well, maybe it’ll give him the push he needs to try get y’back.” Prince admitted, “Either that or to write ‘nother okay album.”
You shoved his arm playfully, “Oh, stop. Y’know it was a good album.”
“Sure, sweetheart, sure.” He teased, sending another smug wink your way, earning another giggle from your lips.
You’d barely made it ten steps backstage before an all familiar frame blocked your way.
You swallowed thickly as Michael’s cold, blank expression met your eyes, his hands curled at his side as he held your gaze — watching as the smile fell from your face.
He didn’t fail to notice how quickly you dropped Prince’s hand, either.
“Come with me. Now.” His voice was darker than his usual soft, gentle tone — not holding a deeper undertone of something that had a chill running down your spine.
“Oh, he mad now.” Prince spoke up, a soft, breathy laugh leaving his lips, “Don’t be jealous, brother, y’got ‘Ross don’t’cha?”
Michael’s jaw clenched, his gaze turning to Prince, eyes darkening into something icier, “I’d walk away if you know what’s good for you.”
Prince laughed once again, eyes flickering back towards you, “Good luck, girl.” He turned back to Michael, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Be sure to bring her back t’me when you’re done, yeah?”
Michael lunged, flinging his hand off his shoulder in a brutal shove, turning towards him with clear intent. You rushed in between a seething Michael and a laughing Prince, hands steadying the angered man on his chest.
“Enough. Both of you.” You hissed, “Just go.” You signalled to the amused man behind you.
Prince didn’t fight it — just turned to walk away with his hands in the air in surrender, chuckling as he went.
“Michael, what the hell was that for?” You snapped.
Michael didn’t speak — only grabbed your wrist in a firm, not aggressive, more so possessive, grasp, tugging you away, his longer legs moving swiftly with each stride, your own practically in a run as you fought to keep up.
He found a nearby bathroom, pushing the door open with all his strength, ignoring the way you winced at the sound of the handle harshly slammed into the wall. The door was shut and locked quicker than it had opened — before you were pushed against it.
“Me?” He started, answering your prior question, his chest heaving as he stared down at you, pupils blown in distress, “I think I should be asking you that question, sweetheart.”
The pet-name spat from his mouth with a curl of his lips — face contorted into a scowl.
You gained your pride, taking two hands to his shoulders and shoving him, your strength against his own doing as little as moving him a few steps backwards.
“Don’t get it twisted, Michael.” You retorted, “You started this with that bitch.”
Michael scoffed, “Go’head, baby, try and convince yourself I’m in the wrong here.” His tongue poked out from his inner cheek, “You’re insatiable.”
“Don’t you dare call me that.” Your voice seeping with distaste at the familiar pet-name, “You lost that privilege the second you gave up on us like we were nothin’.” You shook your head, “Would’ve let you have it back if you didn’t let that old slut rub up on you like you’re a fuckin’ groupie.” You laughed darkly, looking him up and down, “Not now. Lost every fuckin’ chance with me.”
Michael looked taken aback by your disrespectful words — teeth grinding together as he never took his eyes away from your own.
“I never gave up on us willingly.” He revealed, ignoring the way you scoffed with a laugh, as he took a step closer to you, “And as for her,” He paused, attempting to find the right words.
“See? You can’t even convince yourself there’s nothin’ going on there.” You cut him off, hands flailing in the air as you spoke theatrically.
“Let me finish, woman.” He shot back, “As I was sayin’ — she means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing. She’s an old friend. Someone who mentored me as a kid. We have history — but nothin’ more than platonic. Barely even platonic, just professional.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Michael. No ‘professional mentor’ kisses their ‘colleague’ like that.” You air-quoted the words that felt faux with your manicured fingers, shaking your head, “Do you take me for some kind of idiot?”
“Not in that sense, no.” He started, “For actin’ like that him? Maybe.”
You laughed in disbelief, “You just love it, don’t you? Pretending to yourself that I’m the bad guy, that I went up there and acted like that just to hurt you with no real reason?” You looked him up and down with disgust, “You’re so blind.”
“How many times, girl? There’s nothin’ going on with me and Di.”
He regretted the use of the nickname the second it left his mouth.
“Di? That sounds real professional to me, asshole.” You turned on your heel, clicking the lock back open and twisting the handle, pulling the door open in an attempt to storm out.
Before you could even move, the door was slammed shut once again. The loudness blooming a new found silence in the room, one that failed to occur from the second you walked in there.
Michael’s hand, despite his reverent anger, remained gentle as moved your body back to face him, pressing you back into the door.
“Don’t even think about it.” He whispered, “You are not walkin’ away from me.”
“That’s ironic.” You bit back, “If you hadn’t have done that in the first place, we wouldn’t be havin’ this argument.”
“Y’think I wanted to do that? Think I wanted to sit there and watch you panic? Listen to you cry? Hear you cuss me out because of pain and anger I caused? No. That’s where y’dead wrong, girl.” He let out a shaken breath, “I have always, from the moment I met you, till this very day, loved you. Loved you so much I had to give you the life you deserved. I had to let you go. Had to get you away from the pain I was bringin’. No one wants to be with someone who’s never there, and when they are, they’re always fightin’.” Then, he went silent, his eyes now softened as they met your glassy ones, tears threatening to fall as you let him talk.
You both stayed in deathly loud silence, louder than any door slamming or screaming argument — silence that spoke more words than any you’d ever said.
You swallowed thickly, your resolve cracking as his admission settled in your brain, “That wasn’t your decision to make, Michael.” Your voice was quieter now, still with the same stubborn sharpness, but less accusatory, now filled with evident upset.
Michael breathed, his head hanging low, his forehead a mere few inches from your own, “I regret that night every fucking day.” He whispered, a vulnerable string of words that hung heavy in your heart, “Letting you walk out that door was the worst mistake of my life.”
“Why her?” Your voice cracked as you spoke, a stray tear falling down your cheek as you met his gaze.
“It wasn’t a personal attack. She was just at the same club and approached me.” He revealed, “The picture was taken before I even had a chance to say no.”
You shook your head, breaking the eye-contact as you looked at your feet, hiding your rapidly falling tears. Michael’s trembling hand reached for your face, a tentative hand cupping your warm cheek, lifting your face to meet his eyes once more.
“Mama..”
“Stop.” You turned your head, pushing his hand away with your own, “I can’t even look at you.”
“Don’t act so innocent.” Michael’s tone, that had once softened, grew the all too familiar iciness that had been evident the whole evening, “I’m trying to fix things here despite your little ordeal earlier. D’y’know what it’s like to see you kissing him up there? That used to be me if you even remember.”
You let out a low laugh, “He didn’t even kiss me, fool, ‘was all an act. Unlike you and Di.” You barked, “Y’know you actually blow my mind, you’re so—Mmmph!”
Michael connected your lips in a frantic kiss, cutting off your incessant bickering, lips moving against yours quickly.
You shoved him back, gasping for air at the sudden loss of breath, “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Puttin’ that bratty fuckin’ mouth to better use.”
He kissed you again — mouth sliding against your own in a feverish lip-locking, a hand now gripping the nape of your neck, the other on the curve of your waist.
And this time — you let him.
You melted into him, hands flying to his face, eyes fluttering shut as you caved, droplets of tears falling onto the tops of your cheeks — falling deeper into his mercy. His tongue slid across the surface of your bottom lip, still awaiting permission despite his frustration. You allowed it, letting his tongue slide into your warm mouth, humming in delight at the taste of his minty breath on the hot muscle, revelling in the way he pushed his body into yours. His hands wondered — now travelling down your body to grab a handful of your ass through your dress, continuing his oral assault on your swollen lips.
“Jump.”
You obeyed, leaving his lips to leap into his arms — his hands cradling your behind as he connected your lips once more, settling you on the sink, slotting himself between your ajar legs.
Michael detached his mouth from own, moving his lips down the curve of your jaw, and down your exposed neck — letting his hips rock into yours involuntarily, while he sucked possessive marks into your skin, at the sound of your breathy moans, head tilted back to allow him better access.
“Michael, please.” You whined, voice a needy plea, hands sliding up into his hair, threading through his tight curls.
“Please, what, angel?” He mumbled against your neck, breath hot against your skin, fresh lovebites forming as he spoke.
“Please—mmhm—Need you, fuck.”
Michael pulled away, hands flying to your dress, pulling down the zipper harshly — before pulling you to your heeled feet, pushing it off your body swiftly, leaving you in just a skimpy bare of lace panties.
Ones you knew were his favourite.
“Oh, sweetheart,” He breathed, eyes raking over your bare frame, glossy doe-eyes peering up at him as he towered above you, “Wore my favourite just for me?”
You nodded, “Just f’you, Mike.”
Michael turned you, with precise smoothness, pressing your stomach against the cold of the sink, your bare back now pressed against his chest.
He slid a tentative hand up your side, toying with the tiny string the thong that clad your bottom half, as he locked eyes with your own in the mirror before you, “How am I supposed to know you didn’t wear them for him, mama?”
You pushed back against him, rolling your hips into the statement of his arousal, “Shut up about him and fuck me.”
A harsh hand connected with your left ass cheek — a half-gasp half-moan ripping from your throat at the sudden contact, “Thought I told you to keep that bratty mouth shut?”
You, testing your luck, ground against him once more, smirking at the way his hand tightened against your hand-printed behind, “Give me what I want then.”
Michael shook his head behind you — one hand working on his belt, pushing his slacks down along with his boxers, his palm wrapping around his achingly hard cock, pumping himself slowly, while the other pulled down your panties, now morphed into the shape of your plush folds from your leaking arousal, to the side, “Be careful what you wish for, doll.”
With one swift, sudden thrust, Michael pushed inside you — bottoming out instantly. A scream erupted from your throat at the instant fullness, your tight cunt struggling to adjust to the sheer size of him as his leaking tip kissed your cervix. Your pussy betrayed you as it clenched around him, drooling around him, coating his cock in your slick.
His hand flew to your mouth, his large palm enclosing around your swollen lips, muffling the whimpers that left you as you struggled around him — eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of him throbbing inside you.
“Keep those eyes open, mama,” He ordered, sliding out of you slowly until the only thing that remained inside your quivering hole was his plump mauve cockend, “Want you to see how pathetically you fall apart on my cock. My cock. No-one else’s.”
He pushed in again with the familiar harshness from before as your eyes shot open — now starting a brutal, animalistic pace that had you clawing at the tense of his hand that enveloped your mouth, hiding the high-pitched squeals and whines of pure, irrevocable lust that took over your mind, body and soul.
Michael groaned into your ear, eyes locked on your own as he fucked into you with such a pace and lack of gentleness that you’d never seen before. During your companionship, Michael took his time with you — worked you open with his mouth and fingers, took his time to get you ready for the thickness and length of him. But, not this time — all the pent up rage brought upon him from the start of the night now being fucked into you with every harsh rock of his hips.
Keeping you flush against his chest, his free hand slid down to where you connected — rubbing tight figure eights against your clit that throbbed for attention. Your head fell back against his shoulder, eyes rolling to the back of your head, ignoring any order he gave you to hold his gaze.
“Mmphmh—M-Mich—Michael, please!”
Words failed you as you cried against his hand, drunk on the way his cock dragged in and out of your gummy walls that sucked him in with each thrust — the sound of your feverish moans and your squelching cunt mixing with his breathy groans filling the air of the bathroom that now stunk of Michael’s intoxicating cologne and passionate sex.
“Take it, baby, take this fuckin’ dick.” He grunted into your ear, his words unlike his usual loving coaxes, “Make up for what’cha did.”
Michael hissed as you bit down on the skin of his palm, his hand pulling away from the source of pain as he meet your gaze in the mirror — your own expression now deepening into a scowl, “Fuck you.”
The words spat from your mouth, dripping with venom, at his words of blame, watching as his face scrunched up in frustration.
“Oh, you’ve done it now, ma.”
His pace never let up — if anything, since your oral stunt, it quickened. He forced you down, now completely bent over the sink as he created a new angle — his cock now driving deeper into your sopping cunt, abusing the sweet spot inside you relentlessly.
Now released from his grasp, your loud, incessant cries sounded throughout the small room — so voluminous that any passerby would hear every scream of his name.
His hand collided with your ass cheek again — cursing under his breath as the familiar feeling of a much needed orgasm crept up his abdomen. The lustful spark in your stomach blossoming much the same as he slid a hand into your hair, tugging your head upwards to look directly into the mirror once more. You were a state, completely, and literally, fucked — eyes streaming with tears that coated your hot cheeks, lips swollen and stricken with spit from his frantic kisses, and a small yet equally evident imprint of his fingers around your mouth where he held you harshly.
“‘M gonna cum so fuckin’ deep in this pussy that you can’t fuckin’ walk without flooding your little panties with my seed.” He grunted, never letting his thrusts faltering as you squirmed beneath him, “Who’s needy little cunt is this?”
Words failed you as you continued to cry — only desperate, eager whimpers falling from your lips.
Another spank connected with your ass cheek, coaxing a loud whine out of you, “Answer me when I ask you a fuckin’ question, woman.”
“Yours!—fuck, Michael, it’s all yours.” You panted, tears falling from your eyes faster than you could stop them.
“Say this pussy’s mine.” Michael spat, tugging hard on your locks of hair.
“My pussy’s all yours, baby, fuck—mmph!—Gonna cum!”
Michael hummed, clearly pleased with your response, his hips stuttering as he neared his own release, “Cum with me, beautiful, cum on my cock like a good girl.”
You cried out, loud and despairingly, as you finally broke — red-hot ecstasy taking over your body as you came, the flood gates of your pleasure breaking open to consume you. Michael followed, the tight clenching of your quivering pussy sending him over the edge, spurting his hot seed into your fertile cunt as he groaned lowly — the sensation of his cum filling your fluttering sex only furthering your own orgasm.
You slumped against the countertop — chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath. Michael stilled behind you, swallowing thickly as he softened inside you. He leant down, pushing his chest against your back, coated with a sheen of sweat, before pressing a soft, loving kiss to your shoulder.
His kisses trailed up to your neck, beneath your earlobe, your cheek, before using a trembling hand to tilt your head to the side, and pressing his lips against your own. You sobbed into the kiss, more tears, now from overwhelming emotion, falling from your eyes. Michael’s hand cupped your cheek — deepening the kiss, that once held so much irritation, resentment and anger, now filled with undeniable attachment, deep love and compassion.
“I love you.” Michael breathed, disconnecting your lips, resting his forehead against yours — singular curl that stuck to his slick forehead tickling your own, “Please be mine again.” He whispered.
You nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his nose, head reeling from the overstimulating rush of emotions.
“But don’t pull that shit again.” He added with a playful smile.
“Yeah,” You sniffled with a breathy laugh, “You too.”
this is PART ONE of the FIVE PART HORROR miniseries WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING.
itadori yuuji x reader x sukuna
dynamic // yuuji x fem!reader x sukuna
genre // smut + horror
aged up characters (25+)
heavy nsfw + dc, minors do not interact
part one word count // 12.8k
playlist // to devour
header by @dilf-uc thank u sora my beloved !!!!!
DO NOT POST MY WORK ON TIKTOK.
SERIES SUMMARY
a killer is ravaging the streets of your once-peaceful town. will your new roommate protect you from the nightmares that exist both in your head and out of it?
WARNINGS FOR PART ONE (please read)
horror + general cw - graphic imagery, nightmares; mentions and descriptions of gore, death, and cannibalism; reader smokes
Warnings: raw sex, jealous Yuta, angry Yuta, costume wearing, creampies,
A/N: day twoooo hehe, this one is a shorter one but still, enjoy!
WORD COUNT: 1.5K
“Yuuuta-ah~” you drawled, fingers digging into the sheets and tugging until the material went taut. The man behind you didn’t answer, brows creasing in concentration as he tried to carry on his “silent” act. You had upset him earlier that day, and now he was determined to “punish” you. The thing is, you were Yuta’s biggest weakness. There were very few things you could do to upset him, and even then it was hard for him to truly stay mad. This time though, this time he was trying his damn hardest to keep the angry act up.
But, the latex one piece, the red devil horns barely holding on to your hair, the fishnets he had ripped instead of taking off… they were making his resolve crumble, even as his hips were actively plowing into your dripping cunt. “Y-yuta please!” you squealed as a harsh slap was dealt to your already sensitive ass cheek, mascara streaking your cheeks and staining the sheets as he continued to leave your pleas unanswered. The halloween party was the root cause of his annoyance, your couple costume had garnered a lot more attention than he anticipated.
Angel and Devil, it was a classic – cliche even – costume idea. Yuta went as the angel, his outfit looking oddly similar to the uniform he wore in his years at Jujutsu Tech. A white button up and black jeans, a pair of angel wings and a headband halo. You went as the devil, a red latex one piece that left little to the imagination, red fishnets, a cute black “devil tail” and two clip-in red horns for your hair. It was simple and easy, and Yuta only did it because you wanted to. He only went to the damn halloween party because you wanted too.
He had initially been hesitant, it was a college party with kids he didn’t know but you had been invited and were familiar with a good chunk of the attendees. Maybe that’s why some of the drunken morons had the audacity to hit on you despite him being right there. That was the cause of his anger, even though it wasn’t your fault for looking so good, he couldn’t stand the way the other men at that party made him feel. Their cocky attitudes and side glances made him realize that they truly thought they could take you from him if they wanted too.
Now, he was blowing off steam, and shamelessly punishing you for being “too damn hot”.
…Though it was killing him to stay silent, still. Especially when your cunt was suctioning to his length, hugging every inch of him and nearly making it difficult to pull in and out. “Yuta! Please… oh fuck please say something… I want to hear you so bad angel.” You felt him twitch, hips stuttering in their brutal pace as you focused your head back to try and look at him. In his haste to fuck you, he hadn’t even bothered taking off his own costume, merely undoing his pants to get his cock out. You had to admit, the sight of your boyfriend all sweaty and bothered with angel wings and a halo on was going to stick with you for a long while.
Yuta could arguably say the same about you, that sinful costume still half-hazardously clinging to your body was unforgettable. The slightly stretchy material of the latex one piece was pushed to the side, he had no patience to pry the thing off of you. The red fishnets were torn open so he had clear access to your cunt, it was a filthy sight. Something about his desperation set every nerve ending in your body on fire, the fact that he was trying so hard not to make a noise only fueled the flames. “Y-yuta… baby… angel… p-please… fuck I need to hear your pretty moans.” You let out a loud cry as his hips slammed deep, causing the skin of your ass to recoil with the force.
He stopped all together, dull nails digging into the flesh of your hips as he kept you tightly against him. The head of his cock was pressing tightly to your cervix, creating a pressure that made you want to crawl forward to try and ease. “Y-yuta please… please…” you babbled, unsure of what you could say to get him to speak, or at least make some noise for you. Yuta’s determination was leaving his body with each clench of your walls, squeezing his embarrassingly sensitive cock too good. You whined loudly as he leaned forward, somehow pressing himself into you even harder as his front met your back.
You couldn’t think straight, not when his lips were ghosting the shell of your ear, breath labored as he spoke one word. “Apologize.” You felt your own breathing stop, dazed, struggling to figure out why you needed to even apologize in the first place. It took you all of five seconds to comprehend why you were even in this situation, begging your own boyfriend to make noises. He was jealous. Jealous of the men who shamelessly ate you up as you strutted by, arm hooked happily in your boyfriend’s. You hadn’t even noticed them until you felt Yuta tensing. Still, his hips were beginning their brutal pace, cock hot and heavy as it dragged out of you.
You were too desperate now to even care, “I-I’m sorry Y-yuta please… I’m sorry I’m sorry…” You choked, eyes watering all over again as you sobbed, breath catching in your throat every few thrusts when he dragged over that one particular spot. The spot that had your cunt fluttering around him as the coil in your gut threatened to snap. “P-please! Fuck, cmon Yuta I’m sorry!” you wailed, getting frustrated that he was still holding off. “Please, I don’t k-know what else you want me to say! I was only l-looking at you the whole night baby… please I’m sorry…” You continued your barely coherent babbling, struggling to look back at him with tear streaked cheeks.
That was enough for him, his resolve disappearing altogether as his shoulders sagged. Yuta’s head fell forward, the halo headband nearly falling off as he moaned, loud and unrestrained. You practically moaned with him, arms growing a little weak as his noises finally graced you. “T-thank you… oh fuck thank you… so pretty… fuck you’re so pretty Yu…” you let your eyes shut, realishing in his breathy gasps as he rutted his hips even faster. “Oh fuck.” was the only intelligible statement he got out, hand pressing down on the latex covering your small back. You gave in easily, sore arms giving out as your chest and face squished into the mattress.
Yuta was practically climbing on top of you, fucking into you at a deeper angle. His pants and whimpers had the feeling in your gut growing, your mind drawing a blank the moment you felt one hand shakily slipping between your legs. You let out a shaky cry of his name, the rough circles over your already sensitive clit was enough for the coil to snap. You came hard, thighs trembling as you gushed around his length. Not once did Yuta slow down, hips still thrusting into you deliberately hard as he chased his own release. You felt like jello, body melting into the bed below you as Yuta’s hands were the only thing keeping you upright.
“Let me… oh fuck please let me cum inside.” He choked, face bright red as sweat dripped down his temple, he was close, dangerously close. If you didn’t tell him no within the next couple seconds, he was positive he’d be blowing his load in you regardless. You let out a half-hearted “yes”, too far gone to tell him with more reassurance. Though it didn’t seem to bother Yuta in the slightest, two more thrusts and he was heaving a sigh of pure bliss as he split inside. Silence fell over the two of you, nothing but racing hearts and ragged breathing filling the space. It took you several minutes to get enough energy to speak, your body already feeling tender. “Yu… this costume is going to be a pain to get off now that you got me all sweaty.”
You smiled a bit when you heard him laugh, pulling out of you slowly and resting your hips on the mattress carefully as he fell onto the bed beside you. It didn't last all that long though, he had forgotten about the damn angel wings until they were digging into his back. “We’ll just have to cut it off of you then.” He said it pretty matter-of-fact, ignoring the way you looked at him as if he had just suggested something terrible. “I like this costume, Yu.” He didn’t care, huffing out a laugh before he spoke “This costume will never see the light of day, ever again. It's for me and me alone, got it?” The possessiveness in his tone had you squirming. “Yeah, I suppose.”
oh, absolutely. this man will show the world that you're his, and he's yours. the public display of affection will be crazyyy 💀 he does NOT care what anyone say, he's gotta kiss, touch, feel YOUUUU 😩😩😩 it gets to the point where people around you gets so used of yall being so lovey dovey that they don't even bats an eye on it.
on a scale of 1-10, how thoughtful is he?
immediately 10. remember when he customized yuuji's uniform to have a hood (?) or something bc that's what yuuji often wears ☹️ this man definitely is aware and takes notes of everything you like, favourite food, song, colour, how you'd like your steak to be done, EVERYTHING 😩‼️. so when it comes to your birthday, he knows exactly what to give you.
dates?
dates with him are so fun! for instance on an amusement park date, he'll make sure not to push you to ride a rollercoaster that you're afraid of getting on. he'll convince you, of course but if your response are.. yk, he's not gonna pressure you to get on it. oh, don't worry your pretty head 😘, he'll cover all the expenses of all of it. by the end of the date, you'll be exhausted af but would be smiling ear to ear lols
how clingy is he?
VERY clingy. like, HELLA. im talking bout putting his arms around your ankle, his legs dragging with every move you take around the kitchen. JUST to have physical contact with you. you'd be complaining that he's "too heavy! get off meeee," and still run around the damn kitchen all while dragging his clingy ass with you LMFAOOO and he'd be like "give me attention 🥺", bitch get the fuck off y/n's ankle damn 🤨
hand placement?
this man has a hot hand placement 😩‼️ near your boobs, around your waist, around your neck, you name it. when you're filming a tt with him he had his hand on your inner thighs and when you post it, it went viral and full of comments saying "girlll his hand placement,😩😩🙏🙏" you don't even realize he'd put his hand on that area with how often he's done that before but shout out to him for giving you clout ig 🗣️‼️‼️
favourite body part of you?
probably your boobs. he likes to bury his head on it for extended amount of time that you're worried he's not breathing anymore. he finds that he doesn't mind having a death caused by his gf's boobs tbh. he especially love to bury his head on your chest when he's having a bad day.
is he the best bf ever?
DUHHHH. he loves you with all his heart and will not tread you with anything in this world, ever. he loves you, forever and ever and wish he'd marry you someday.
ᰔ cw – fem!reader, weddings, ran is such a wife guy its insane, unprotected ptv, mdni (0.9k words)
most people will agree that weddings are events that are pure, sacred, an act that signifies love and devotion to ones lover. and though they aren't wrong -- a part of you thinks otherwise.
fate sealed and deal done, you now are a married woman with a beautiful rock on your finger -- the very best, of course. ran haitani demands only the best for his beloved, he won't settle for any less than perfect.
fitted in a pretty, white, flowy gown, dolled up so that you could almost be mistaken for a princess, you look like the definition of beauty.
what do they say about brides wearing white on weddings again? oh, right, they were to show pureness, virtue, and innocence.
you disagree.
-- because the way your husband is fucking you right now is nowhere near innocent or pure.
"fuck! fuck--! ran, oh, yes-!"
"fucking hell, baby," your husband groans into your ear, lips grazing over the sensitive skin of your jaw, "'driving me insane."
his wandering hands touch and grope all over you, shamelessly squeezing at your tits through the fabric of your wedding dress that's been hiked up over your hips.
"you're, you're being too loud, ran," you gasp, mouth forming a silent 'o' at the way the tip of his cock repeatedly rubs deliciously against that one spongey spot inside you over and over.
what can you say? your husband knows you too well. body and soul.
he laughs breathily, "this pussy's g'nna kill me one day, i swear,"
impatient as he can be, ran could not wait any longer after your vows and ring exchange. he whisked you away with a hand interlocked with yours, pulling you down hallways and rooms to escape family and guests at the wedding -- just too damn impatient and needing to be alone with you.
impatient, and horny.
now bent over a table in some random cramped room, your husband fucks into your tight pussy like he's never going to get a chance to fuck you ever again. he didn't even bother dropping his slacks all the way, just needing to whip his dick out as soon as he could.
with your gown and veil flipped over your hips, the front of his thighs slap against the back of yours, the skin burning pink and red, drowning out the dirty squelches of your sloppy pussy.
"oh, ran! fuck, fuck, keep doing that, right there--!"
pain blooms satisfyingly, and the way his heavy balls slap against your clit every time he thrusts deep into you has you rolling your eyes and throwing your head back.
he groans, way too loud and not thinking of how anyone passing by can hear everything going on inside this room, "yeah? right there? don' need to tell me, baby, i know."
his breath sends shivers down your spine, little tingles lighting up nerve endings and adding to the ever-growing stimulation. his husky voice makes you squeeze uncontrollably around his dick, pulsing and spasming.
"what? you like that?" he teases, voice low as he thrusts up even harder, gripping your hips tighter so he can force them down to his own, "y'like when i'm fucking you like this, hard and fast?"
"yes, yes! so good, so good," you whine.
the fact that anyone could walk in on the two of you anytime pumps adrenaline all through your body, it makes everything ten times more intense than it is. you could drown in the way ran fucks you so good, perfectly even -- and you relish in the way every thrust brings both pain and pleasure.
"ahh, fuck, if you keep squeezin' me like this, you'll make me cum, princess."
your hands scramble behind you for any stability, trying your best to grab him for any support, but his hips thrust too hard, too harsh, you can barely keep yourself up on your toes at this point.
"ran, ran, ran--!" you babble and squeal as soon as you feel two of his fingers slide over your swollen bud, flicking it and rubbing directly over it.
"c'mon, cum all over this fuckin' dick," he groans, pressing wet kisses all over your jaw and neck, licking away the drops of sweat that gather there. "soak my cock."
and, oh, you do.
ran feels you drench him in slick, pussy so wet he thinks he could drown in it. you tighten impossibly around him, and for a slight second he thinks you might push him right out of you.
all this time, he never stops fucking back into you, determined to prolong your high, to hear you whine and cry even more than you are right now.
you'd be one lucky bride if your makeup isn't melting down your face.
"ahh, yeah, shit, shit," he croaks, eyes tight and face screwed up in pleasure.
ran pulls out abruptly as soon as you come down from your high, slipping out of your wet cunt only so he can blow his entire load all over your veil. coating the lacy material in spurts of his hot cum.
"r-ran! what the fuck!" you squeal, face turned to look back at him in shock.
he groans shamelessly, hand working over his dick to make sure every last drop is out, only then does he slump over you with a stupid smile on his face.
"jus' needed to mark my territory." he says, face tucked into your neck. "what?"
you furrow your brows. "what do you mean 'what?' are you serious right now?!"
he doesn't even look sorry. "hell yeah. 'so hot knowing my cum is on my wife's veil."
"you're disgusting."
"i know."
"you're getting me a new one." you demand.
"anything my wife wants, she gets."
---
IM SO SORRY FOR THE LAST PART ASJDBAKBD thank you for reading!!1
pairing : yuuta x reader (feminine pronouns. afab)
rating : explicit, not safe for work (sexual content)
type : one-shot
tags : high school!au, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, clothed sex, jealous sex, praise kink, verbal degradation, dirty talk, the usage of the words "whore" and "slut", blowjob, vaginal fingering, manhandling, slight choking, cumming inside, yuuta is jealous and possessive and hot
word count : 2,401
author's note : LOVESSS thank you so much for 100 followers!? i wrote this as my jjk debut fic, also as a celebratory fic, also as a way to treat myself while working on the requests. this might be ooc but idc because (jealous) yuuta is fucking hot.
( masterlist │ ask/request │ ao3 )
“What?” The uninterested look he bore sent an electric thrust down your body as you felt another cry edging on your lips as his length continued harshly slamming down your throat. “Stop acting like my cock’s too big for you.”
Your knees were starting to hurt against the cold bathroom tile—bruising, you were sure, turning blue and purple—but Yuuta was merciless. He didn’t care about the brimming tears in the corner of your eyes, didn’t care about your shaking legs or your small chokes.
Slobbering sound filled the small stall, and you sat on the floor obediently like a little puppy as he used your mouth to his liking. Your uniform was wholly unbuttoned, bundled up at your elbows with your nipples peeking from your bra.
It was always his favorite look on you—clothed in the school’s garb, skirt barely covering your delicious ass and bra barely containing your tits. He thinks you look fucking hot in times like these, especially when you’re being so good, sucking him dry as class continued to take place.
“That’s it,” Yuuta groaned, throwing his head against the door as he dragged the cigarette off his lips, blowing an array of smoke into the air. You’ve gotten used to the cigarette by now, in fact, you loved inhaling the bitter nicotine as he continued facefucking you.
The thought of being Yuuta’s faithful whore—the one he has at his disposal at all times—arouses you to the point of madness, all the times he fucks you behind the school or on top of the teacher’s table after class.
You felt your panties dampening as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, keeping your head in your place as he changed the pace to a quicker one, accelerating the beats of your heart.
“Gonna cum, yeah?” He gritted, his wet balls hitting your chin as you struggled to keep your eyes open at him—good girls maintain eye contact when being talked to. The harsh tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, your jaws hurt as hell, but you kept still.
Your fingers crumpled against your skirt when he gave you one last thrust, shooting his warm seed down your throat. You struggled against his length, the fluid sliding down your throat as you swallowed all of him.
When Yuuta pulled his limping dick out of you, it was like a gasp of fresh air. You could feel your dizzy head gaining oxygen, blinking your pretty lashes up at him as he pulled your arm to get you to stand up straight. You could still taste his sweet seed on your tongue, smeared all over your lips too, making you look like a wrecked mess.
Yuuta clicked his tongue, “Turn around.”
You obeyed his order, whimpering softly when you felt the bruised skin of your knees pressing against the cold toilet lid.
He threw the cigarette bunt on the floor, killing it with his steps as he pushed you against the closed toilet bowl, your hands holding yourself up against the wall. You felt his large hands roaming your thighs, palming your ass under your skirt with a hard squeeze.
A whimper escaped your mouth, and he scoffed, rubbing the slickness of your slit through your thin panties. He pushed them aside to dip his calloused ring finger in your folds, your juice immediately coating his digit, before pulling away.
Using one finger to slid them down to your mid-thighs, Yuuta spread your ass cheeks for a moment to admire how wet you were, with your pussy lips glistening and hole nipping at nothing, like inviting him to ravish your pussy.
“Yuuta,” you mewled quietly as his hand found your throat. You felt his tip prodding the entrance of your cunt, slowly kissing the insides of your pussy.
“Mhm?” He pressed his chest against your back, his other hand snaking around your upper body to grope on your tit. “Can you feel me inside of you?” He whispered against your ear, lips nibbling on it, the smell of nicotine on his breath causing you to tense against him.
You whimpered, squeezing your hands as you felt your pussy accommodating the size of his cock, his length filling you completely. Your hole was burning, and you tried blinking away the leftover tears from when he mouthfucked you.
“Can you feel how easy you’re taking me in right now? Didcha got this wet from just sucking me off?”
He pressed his lips against your wet cheek, using his fingers to roll your nipple between them. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, breathing in heavy his peculiar scent that seemed to drive you even more to the edge. Your cunt was burning, everything was so hot, you found yourself lost in the way your walls were perfectly wrapping around his cock, the way his big hands were holding you so tightly that you felt like you could have burst at any moment.
When you didn’t respond to his questions, however, he stopped pushing himself in.
“Answer me.”
You took your lower lip between your teeth, nodding your head with your eyes shut, almost complaining at his pause, but you knew better.
“Yeah,” you breathed out, trying to grind yourself down to him, “I— I can feel you in me.”
Yuuta gave a satisfactory hum, letting you press your ass on him and swallow his dick whole. He watched your expression, the way your pretty, plump lips quiver with every breath you took. He looked down on your ample tit, cupping it through the fabric of your laced bra, letting you make full of his hand.
You fit in so perfectly in his hands, he felt you swallow your slobbering spit down your throat, it was like you were designed just for him.
“Good girl,” the praise that came out his mouth excited you.
You peeked at his face—so close to yours, just inches away from kissing your lips—and felt his hand tightening around your throat. Your cunt clenched, chest heaving at the greed in his gaze.
“My good girl?”
Yuuta pulled himself away, your pussy already missing the way he was jamming you full. You could feel your back arching, mouth nodding as you mindlessly chased after his dick.
“Yours,” you slurred, mouth staring at his full lips, and Yuuta snickered at how fucking stupid you looked, tongue out and eyes half-lidded.
You were completely devoid of him by now, only his tip stayed in your little cunt and you whined to get his attention, pushing your face against his cheek.
“My little whore,” he said again, the hand on your tit leaving to rub itself all over your torso. You felt his hard palm traveling under your skirt to lightly graze on your clit.
You whimpered, nodding your head, still trying your best to keep your eyes open and maintain your eye contact. Yuuta watched how drool was starting to collect on the edge of your lips with your mouth wide open.
His two fingers rubbed down on your clit, causing you to let out a small yelp, your hips rolling down to his hands as you quietly pleaded for him, “Rub my clit harder, please, Yuuta.”
“This cunt,” he rested his chin on your shoulder, following your pleas and pressed down on your clit harder, to take a better look at the expression you were making, “whose is it?”
You gritted your teeth, the sensation of his fingers rubbing circles, so wet and hot, burning a fire inside of you.
“Yours,” you let out a long whine, feeling your knees shudder as you approached an orgasm.
“Yuuta,” you called out, already forgetting his dick in your cunt as you grind down to his hand. “Think ‘m cumming, think—haaahhh—cumming, cumming—“
As you felt your hips bucking, clit suddenly overwhelmed with sensitivity, Yuuta slammed his cock right back into your empty cunt. You threw your head back at the sudden thrust, keeping your eyes at Yuuta to recognize amusement in his eyes.
“Yuuta,” you felt your body go limp, but his strong arms held you up. You could feel him pounding your pussy in a hard, rhythmic pattern, not giving your clit a break.
“Yuutaaaa,” your fingers clawed at the wall, “s’too much, too much, too deep.”
“Too much?” He mockingly repeated, his big cock constantly splitting you wide open, “you’re my good girl, you just gotta fuckin’ take it.”
You gasped at every one of his thumps, vision blurring as he overstimulated your throbbing clit.
Your whining was getting louder, echoing through the empty bathroom walls, drowning in the sound of your squelching cunt.
“Takin’ me in so good,” he grunted, shutting his eyes as his lips made their way to press fluttering kisses on the back of your shoulder, “you really are my little whore, huh? My slut?”
“Yours yours yours,” you pressed your lips together to prevent a curse from slipping out.
“Not Fushiguro’s, not Inumaki’s,” he dug his teeth down your skin, and you could feel his thrusts getting harder and harder, hitting you in your good spots. “Especially not fucking Itadori’s, right?”
You whimpered, head nodding.
“You’re lucky I’m so nice,” Yuuta finally released your clit from his fingers, both hands going to grasp hard on your hips as he lifted himself from you to properly hammer your cunt. “Shit— lucky that when I see you act so good and nice to Itadori, all I do is pound this little pussy, huh?”
He flipped your skirt to see your full ass, dragging your hips before slamming them down to his crotch.
“Fuck, go ahead,” he grunted, “you can thank me for being so kind.”
“Thank—hng!“ you sputtered, accompanied with little gasps and mewls, “Thank you—“
He didn’t let you finish.
Yuuta took your arm and pressed your back against his chest, his lips finding their way to your neck, biting down and swirling his tongue around the sensitive bit of your skin, marking you as his own.
“I’m cumming,” he kissed the skin under your ears, the pace of his hips suddenly becoming erratic.
“Cum inside,” before he could say anything, you squealed out the offer, feeling your walls tightened around him. “Fill me up— up with your c-cum,” you felt your tits spilling out of your bra.
Yuuta hooked his arm with your elbows, “Gonna fill you up so good.”
You nodded your head, biting your lips before eventually letting your mouth hang open as he pumped into you, “Fill me.”
Who was he to refuse?
Yuuta dug his teeth on your shoulder again, completely thrusting into you two more times before pausing. You held your breath, cunt twitching when you finally felt his warm semen filling your pussy the same time you reached another orgasm, juice only not flowing out of your hole because his dick was stuffing you full.
“Fuuuuck,” Yuuta breathed, letting go of your hands to only grope at your tits, still propping you up against his chest. He roughly pulled the tight fabric down and watched your tits bounce out, jiggling after being freed. He pressed his nose against your neck, “You look so good.”
“S’big,” you murmured as his fingers pinched your nipples, causing you to jolt in surprise. “You’re so big—“
“You’re my whore, arentcha?” He gave your tits one last squeeze before letting you go, softly pushing your body down on the toilet lid so that your ass was high up in the air. “You can take it.”
You whined, wiggling your hips and he watched how your ass cheeks were slapping against each other, his cock still buried deep inside of you.
Yuuta slowly pulled his softening dick from your hole, the squelching sound decorating the air before finally disappearing with his dick. He crouched on the floor, using one thumb to spread your pussy lips apart, watching the mixture of his thick cum and your juice dribbling down your thigh.
He pressed a soft kiss against your entrance, and you reached your hand out to push his face away, already feeling your cunt secreting more slickness at the touch.
“Yuuutaaaa…”
He chuckled, and instead of eating you out, he dipped two fingers in your soaking cunt, scissoring you wide open as soon as you swallowed his fingers whole.
You pressed your face against the ceramic of the toilet, gripping on it with your eyes shut.
Yuuta pumped his fingers in and out of your hole, watching in delight as you obediently took his fingers in, before adding a third one.
“I’m the only one who can see you like this,” he muttered, as you tried muffling your whimpers with the skin on the back of your hand. “Wet, full of cum, squirming around my fingers.”
You nodded your head, though you were not sure if he could see you or not.
He curled his three fingers inside your cunt, causing your knees to wobble under the weight of your sensitive body.
“Say it,” he urged, constantly curling them inside as if caressing your pussy walls.
“You— you’re the,” your mouth gaped, voice unclear from all the bliss, “the only one, see me— see me like— nghh—“
Yuuta scoffed at your lack of ability to do what he wanted, but he quickened the pace of his fingering, hitting you deeper with every thrust.
“Yeah,” he finally said, “we know you’re dumb for my fingers. Don’t gotta show it, you fucking slut.”
You whimpered, but you continued anyway.
“Yours,” you kept trying to say, insisting on him knowing that you belong fully to him and no one else. You cunt squeezed his three fingers, hips slowly rolling. “N-not Fushiguro’s—“
“Mhmm?” Yuuta raised an eyebrow, a small smirk etched on his lips as he felt his dick hardening again.
He really didn’t pick the wrong girl to be with, you were so perfect and so good for him, so faithful to him and just him.
“—n-not Inu— Inumaki’s—“
Yuuta pulled his fingers away and stood up, positioning his hardening dick on your entrance once again.
“—a-and especially n-not Ita— Itadori’s—“
He pummeled your needy hole again, satisfied at your pretty voice, telling him that you didn’t belong to any of those other guys.
“That’s it,” Yuuta pulled himself out of your cunt before slamming himself inside again, “pretty girl, my pretty girl.”
in this rooms lies a gojo satoru. he's laying on his bed — on his stomach to be exact — kicking his feet back and forth in a perfect rhythm. his phone is pressed firm on his ear. he's relishing in the way you're rambling about your day. although satoru doesn't understand who the "stupid bitch that took the lipbalm i saw first" is, he'll give his support to you.
all it takes to make satoru's day better is one thing and that is you. he doesn't have much to say other than "mhm" or "yes baby" until he did. one miraculous question from your side awakened him from auto-response mode.
"oh, by the way, can you open up 'toru?"
satoru sits up, crossing his legs together as he sighs, "you know, it all happened when i was born — everything just tumbled down."
"satoru, honey," you interrupt him.
"yeah?"
"i meant the door. the door, satoru. i'm outside your house."
it takes not a second before he hangs up. a cartoon-like red colour rises to the tips of his ears. he's... embarrassed to say the least! hopefully you'll forget it happened.
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