synopsis. In the fresh modern age of 2026, the last thing you'd expect was to get thrown in a Back to the Future plot. You and your totally basic life go haywire during a moment of curiosity when you decide to test out a stubborn retro camera with mixed up dates. What happens when it wasn't just any old camera? What if it had taken you back to the 20th century? And what will you do when you find the chance to change his fate?
starring. multiple eras!michael jackson x time traveller!reader
content warnings. death, sexual content later in the story, tobacco, alcohol, mental and physical abuse, michael's childhood, and many more content labels yet to come! muahaha
MASTERLIST
(total episode count has not been determined yet)
—episode 1 | Say cheese!
—episode 2 | This is far out!
—episode 3 | Oh, dear child...
—episode 4 | Funky 21st century girl!
—episode 5 | ...
—episode 6 | ...
—episode 7 | ...
—episode 8 | ...
—episode 9 | ...
—episode 10 | ...
—episode 11 | ...
—episode 12 | ...
—episode 13 | ...
—episode 14 | ...
—episode 15 | ...
—episode 16 | ...
—episode 17 | ...
(Further episodes will be decided later on.)
If you would like to be tagged for this series or for my general taglist, please let me know!
some of the fanfics i’m seeing under the michael x reader tag are very obviously AI-generated, and it’s actually ridiculous. if you have an idea for a fanfic, please just request it anonymously to a REAL writer who doesn’t use AI, so we don’t have to sit through the robotic-ass dialogue ChatGPT writes for y’all.
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,
ಇ . . . superboy-prime yaps while fucking you silly !
"no, oh my god, babe," he chuckles, hot mouth kissing the column of your neck so sweetly, letting his mumbled info-dump seep into your skin. "see, togruta and twi'lek appendages have completely different functions—"
you moan, soft and unsteady and all too susceptible to the way his cock sits so snugly in you. he rocks into your heat, seemingly unaffected by the way you gasp and flutter when he brushes the spot that makes your head spin and your pussy squelch like one of the eldritch monsters he loves.
and he just keeps talking.
he presses his flushed cheek to yours. sinks the thick fingers of his left hand into the plush of your thigh, plays with your slick, throbbing clit with his right thumb. casually lets a smirk play on his stupid, cute mouth—you can feel the impression of his dimple—as his voice dips into gravel against the shell of your ear:
"twi'lek lekku are prehensile and have some limbic cortex function, so physiological expression of emotion and language—"
sharp need coils tighter in your belly, making you whimper into the warmth of his neck. "mm, c—"
"shh, i know, baby," clark rasps, letting the hand on your thigh travel up and press firmly below your navel. you feel all of him, every ridge and vein, slipping out a pitched sound caught between a choked groan and a squeal.
he continues, though this time thrusting a little more urgently, thank god. "and togruta lekku are connected to their montrals, which—fuck, you just got so tight—ah, are used for echo-locative purposes because their species is carnivorous..."
"'m gonna cum, clark," you pant, eyes squeezing shut as the pads of your fingers press against his scarred, sculpted chest desperately. he hums, nosing your cheek and flicking your swollen bundle of nerves like a joystick.
"okay, okay, 'm sorry," is the hushed, completely unapologetic reply. clark's cock lets the filthy, wet sound of him plunging in and out of your cunt speak for his mouth, which is sucking a new hickey into your shoulder.
still, you can tell that he wants to talk—the tense line in his broad, muscular shoulders says so.
"that's it, that's it, c'mon sweetheart, give it to me..."
you cum on his cock with a choked cry, senses dimming as your system sharpens on the overwhelming pleasure spilling from your core, the rhythmic clench of your walls around him.
"shit, shit," he whimpers, syllables spilling out of his mouth as he starts to rut into you with renewed vigor, chasing his own orgasm and pushing you deeper into his batman-patterned sheets. "okay, lemme explain reverse cursed technique before i bust."
Slight smut, mentions of blood, mdni!, best friends to lovers?, sexual content, girl on girl, harsh language, experimental, first time.
Tytyty @2bun22 for encouraging me to write!!! Ilyyy! I tried my best with this if there’s mistakes I’m so sorry!! I hope you guys like it I’m gonna try to write more!
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃✍︎
You and Jennifer were best friends and had sleepovers all the time. Tonight was no different. Jennifer lost all her friends once people found out who she really was—what she really was. But you stayed. Jennifer started liking you as more than a person usually likes their friend. She always thought you were beautiful girl but there was more to it. She never felt that way about another girl before. It excited and scared her at the same time because she was confused by this new feeling.
You two are sitting in her bed together, just talking and watching random cartoons that played. She sits next to you on the bed, her knees against her chest as she hugs onto them. Suddenly, she pushes strands of your hair away from your face and pulls you on top of her. You gasp in surprise. It wasn’t unusual of her to brush your hair away, but she’d never pull you on top of her like this. “I want you…” She whispers before leaning in suddenly. Her eyes flutter closed as your lips meet in a soft, sweet kiss that gradually grows more passionate. You melt into the kiss quickly and hold her face in your hands. This is something you’ve wanted for a long time, but you didn’t think she felt that way. “God, you taste so good.” She whispers before softly moaning against your lips. She grabs your waist to pull you even closer to her. She gently runs her hand through your hair, her other hand drifting down your back, feeling the softness of your skin. She deepens the kiss, her tongue gently parting your lips as it explores your mouth. You let her do as she pleases before pulling away just a little. “Do you know what you’re doing?” You ask with a smile. Jennifer’s eyes flicker open—dark, hungry, and a little dazed. She grins up at you, all sharp teeth and mischief. "Uh duh," she purrs, "I'm worshipping the hottest girl in town." Her hands slide lower on your hips as she tilts her head. "Unless... you're saying I should stop?" She drags out the word 'stop' like it's a joke. Like there's no way in hell she would. “Hottest girl?” You chuckle. “This isn’t your usual thing, Jen. Are you sure?” As far as you knew, she was straight, which is exactly why you never acted on your feelings towards her.
Jennifer laughs softly, her hands gently tracing idle patterns over your thighs. "Of course, I'm sure, babe," she murmurs, her voice a low, husky whisper. "I've wanted this for... way longer than you'd think. It's not my 'usual thing,' that's true, but with you...? It just feels...right." She gently tugs at the hem of your shirt, as if asking for permission to remove it. You nod and help her slide your shirt up to reveal a red lace bra. Jennifer lets out a soft gasp, her eyes roaming over your exposed skin. She runs her fingers over your chest and stomach, almost reverently, as if she's seeing you for the very first time. “Goddamn, you're so beautiful." She whispers, her gaze fixated on your body. She gently lifts you up and lays you back against the bed, positioning herself on top of you, her knees on either side of your hips. Her lips connect to your neck, giving you soft kisses and gentle love bites as she explores your skin. Your hands gently roam her body, softly stroking. You let out soft moans as she kisses and sucks on your neck, leaving behind a small, dark mark. Her hands find their way to your wrists, and she pins them gently above your head, her grip firm and possessive. "You're so damn sensitive," she murmurs, her lips grazing over your ear as she speaks. "I could just eat you up, you know that?" You can’t but want to tease her. “Mm, is that a threat or a promise?” You say with a grin. Jennifer chuckles darkly, her teeth grazing over your earlobe as she grins. Her eyes are almost predatory, gleaming in the dim light of the room.
"A bit of both, beautiful," she says, her words a low, dangerous purr. "And let me tell you something. Threats and promises from me? They're all the same." She lets go of your wrists and begins to kiss down your chest, her lips, teeth, and tongue exploring every inch of you like you were her very own personal playground. You gently touch her again and watch her kiss and lick down your body. Jennifer's eyes stay locked on yours as she makes her way down your body, leaving a trail of soft, wet kisses and love bites in her wake. She reaches the edge of your bra and pauses for a moment, her expression hungry and impatient. She gently traces her finger over the strap. "Can I take this off?" she murmurs, her voice thick with desire. “Only if you’re sure…” you answer carefully to make sure she’s sure she wants this. You also can’t help yourself from wanting her to take it off, so you lift your upper body just enough for her to unclip it. Jennifer’s eyes flash with something between frustration and hunger—she hates when you doubt her. "Y/n. Please." Her voice is rough, almost pleading as she flicks the clasp of your bra open with one practiced hand. "I don't do anything I'm not sure about." The second the fabric loosens, she pulls it off entirely and tosses it aside like trash—her gaze ravenous on your exposed skin now. She licks her lips slowly before diving in to claim a peaked nipple between her teeth, biting just hard enough to make you gasp. “Fuck…” you tense in surprise. “Jenny…don’t bite…”. Jennifer pulls back instantly, her eyes wide and panicked—like she just snapped out of a trance. "Shit—shit, fuck, I'm sorry," she babbles, hands hovering over you like she's afraid to touch now. "I didn't mean to—I just got carried away. Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?" Her voice is shaky with genuine concern despite the hunger still burning in her gaze. “Shh, it’s okay, just be careful…” you reassure her and softly pet her head. Jennifer lets out a shaky breath and nods, her body relaxing slightly under your touch. Her gaze softens as you pet her head, and she leans into it, like a touch-starved puppy. Like she hasn't been touched like this for god knows how long. Which is very much the truth. Everyone’s terrified of her but not you…
"Okay," she whispers, her expression still a bit sheepish as her hand gently squeezes your thigh. "I'll be more careful. I just... got a little excited, I guess. Sorry, again." You can’t help but smile a little. “It’s okay, Jen..” Jennifer nods again, taking another shaky breath to calm herself. Her hands return to your body, but this time they're gentler—slower, more tender. She kisses your skin with an almost reverent worship, as if your body was a holy place to be savoured. Her lips drift lower and lower until she reaches the waistline of your shorts, and she pauses, her fingers dancing over the waistband. You bite your lip with need and excitement. Jennifer's smirk returns—wicked, slow, and full of promises as she leans in to nip at your jawline. “Told you I was sure," she breathes against your skin. "And just so we're clear..." She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes with a devilish grin, "I'm not stopping until you're screaming my name.”
Jennifer hooks her fingers around the waistband of your shorts and starts to tug them off. She tosses your shorts aside, her gaze roaming over you with an obvious hunger now. You bite your lip and prop yourself up on your elbows to watch her. “Come here..”. Jennifer's smirk widens as you beckon her closer. She crawls up your body like a feral cat on the prowl, her eyes locked on yours with a heated intensity. "Bossy tonight, aren't you?" she purrs in a low, throaty voice, straddling your waist and trapping you beneath her. "I like it." You chuckle and rub her thighs. You sit up to hold her in your lap and you slide your hands up her body to take her shirt off. She freezes for half a second before melting into it, her body going pliant in your lap. "Fuck," she breathes, "Guess I'm not the only one with teeth." Her shirt lifts easily under your hands, and she raises her arms obediently to let you toss it aside. You smile and gently hook your fingers under her bra straps, slowly bringing them off her shoulder. Jennifer's breath hitches as you toy with the strap, her body arching slightly into your touch. You finally move your hands to the hook of her bra. "Christ—" she mutters under her breath, "You're gonna kill me." Her hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise as she watches you unhook the bra with agonizing slowness. The second it loosens, she doesn't even wait for you to fully remove it—just yanks it off herself in a frantic rush before crashing back against you bare-chested. Her skin is feverishly hot where it presses flush against yours. You brush her hair out of her face and tuck it behind her ear. “Slow down, sweet girl…take your time with it…” you hum. A soft whine escapes her lips as you brush away her hair—your gentle touch sending a shiver through her body. She lets out a shaky breath, forcing herself to still despite how badly her body is aching, how desperately she wants to devour you, to claim you as her own.“I—I'm trying," she pants, her voice cracking with a raw need, “but when I'm this close to you... I can't think straight."
“Clearly.” You let out a chuckle. “We don’t need to rush anything, baby…it’s your first time with a girl…just let it happen…” It wasn’t your first time, so you wanted to make sure you made her first memorable. Jennifer's breath hitches at your words, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink. She looks downright exposed—not just physically, but emotionally too. "You're right," she admits in a quiet murmur, "It is my first time with a girl." Her fingers trace slow circles over your bare waist as she processes that. "Which means... I'm gonna be shit at this," she adds with an awkward laugh, like she's already bracing for you to judge her. “No, baby…you’re doing so good…I’ll take care of you and teach you whatever you want…no judgment here, okay?” You assure her. Jennifer's entire body relaxes at your words—her grip on you loosening just enough to be tender instead of desperate. A quiet, disbelieving laugh escapes her as she presses her forehead against yours. “Fuck... you're too good for me," she mumbles, but there's no self-deprecation in it this time. Just awe. Her hands slide up to cradle your face like something precious as she leans in to kiss you again—slower now. Softer. Like she's memorizing the shape of your lips between shaky breaths: "Tell me what feels good...”. You nod, “It’s easy…I know you know how to make yourself feel good, right?” You ask in almost a teasing tone. Jennifer's face burns red at the question, her grip on you tightening reflexively. She lets out a strangled noise halfway between a scoff and an embarrassed groan.“Wha—? I mean—! That's not the same as this!" she splutters, like you've just called her out for something mortifying.
"...Okay yeah," *she mutters after a second, "But with you it’s different. Like... my hands don’t know where to fucking go." You giggle. “Jennifer. I’m a girl, meaning if you know how to touch yourself, you can do the same to me…just relax…” you pull her into a sweet kiss to relax her nerves and maybe your own. Jennifer melts into the kiss, her body going pliant against yours as she finally—finally—lets go of that stupid tension. When you pull back, her smirk is all lazy satisfaction and newfound confidence. "Okay...okay," she breathes out like it's a revelation, "So if I do..." Her hands slide down your sides with purpose now, dipping under the waistband of your panties without hesitation this time. "...this?" Her fingers brush over where you're already wet for her—her eyes darkening instantly at the proof that yeah, you want this too. You gasp and whimper. “Fuck…wait..you don’t have to…mph..” you instinctively move against her hand without thought. Jennifer's eyes are glued to your face, drinking in every expression you make. The way you gasp and whimper when her fingers explore you makes her shiver all the way down to her core. "Shut up," she murmurs, her voice low and rough, "I definitely have to." Her hand moves in slow, languid motions against you, just enough to tease without giving in to the desperation crackling between you two. "You want me to stop..?" She asks, a wicked grin twisting her mouth. You quickly shake your head. “No..” you whimper. Jennifer's grin turns downright feral as she finally—finally—gives in, her fingers curling against you with a purpose that makes your back arch. “Didn’t think so," she breathes, her other hand pinning your hip down to keep you from grinding up into her touch too fast. "Slow. You said slow." You cursed yourself for saying that now. Her thumb circles over where you need it most while two fingers sink deeper inside at an agonizing pace. Her eyes are locked on every twitch of your expression like she’s memorizing how to ruin you just right. You moan, and your upper body pushes against her more. You kiss her deeply, muffling your noises. Jennifer groans into the kiss, her fingers stuttering for half a second when you push against her—like she wasn’t expecting how good that would feel. She recovers fast, twisting her wrist to drag those sinful fingers just so as she licks into your mouth. "Fuck—" she pants between kisses, "You taste so damn good everywhere." Her hips jerk involuntarily against your thigh, proving exactly how much this is affecting her too. You pull her hand out of your panties before you get the chance to fall apart. You lead her hand up to her mouth. Jennifer's eyes widen in shock for a split second—then darken with something downright filthy as she registers what you're doing. Her breath hitches when her own fingers press against her tongue, the taste of you on them making her shudder. “Holy shit," she rasps around your slick coating her skin, “That’s—fuck, that’s hot." Her hips buck up helplessly against nothing as she sucks two fingers clean with slow, obscene intent. You moan as you watch her. When her fingers pop free from between those pretty lips? She grins at you like a predator who just found their new favorite toy. You grab her hips and flip the both of you over. You hover over her and leave kisses and licks down from her neck to her chest before gently sucking on her peaked nipples. Her hands fly to your hair, gripping tight—not to push you away, but to anchor herself. "Fuck—fuck, right there," she babbles, "I didn’t know—I didn’t know girls could do that—" Her words cut off in a strangled moan when your teeth graze over one peaked nipple. Her hips jerk up against nothing again, desperate for friction she's not getting. You can’t help but giggle. “Do what?” Jennifer's entire body flushes red—her face, her chest, even the tops of her ears burning with embarrassment. She grabs a pillow and smacks it over her own face with a groan.
"Make me feel like I'm about to fucking die, y/n," she mumbles from under the fabric, "You're evil. Evil and pretty." She peeks one eye out from behind the pillow just in time to see you smirking at her—then yanks it back down with another whimper. You smirk and start moving lower on her body. Jennifer’s breath hitches as you move lower, her hands flying to grip the sheets beneath her like she's bracing for impact. Her legs twitch involuntarily—already spreading for you before she can even think about stopping herself. "W-wait," she stammers, "I mean—fuck, I don't know if I can handle this yet." But the way her hips tilt up toward your mouth betrays just how badly she wants it anyway. Her face is a masterpiece of conflicted need: all flushed cheeks and bitten lips and shaky exhales. You stop your movements but note the way her body begs for it. “It’s okay, just tell me when you’re ready..” you say softly. Jennifer's breath shudders out of her slowly, her body going slack as your movements come to a stop. The look she gives you is somewhere between desperate and grateful—like she needs this so damn badly, but she's also secretly relieved that you're reading her so well. She nods, licking her lips as she gives you a shaky smile. "Thanks. Sorry. It's... a lot." Her hips roll up, as if to prove her point before she can stop them. Then she gives you a guilty pout. You nod and hold her hips down. “What are you the most comfortable with? We can just kiss for now..” Jennifer lets out a shaky breath, her body melting into the mattress as you pin her hips down. Her eyes dart over your face—searching for any hint of frustration that you're not getting what she clearly wants. "Kiss? Yeah. Fuck, yeah," she mumbles, "That's... that's easy." She reaches up to pull you back down against her mouth in a slow, open-mouthed kiss—but the second she feels your weight settle on top of hers? Her hands slide lower than before with an impatient whine against your lips. You grab her hands to stop her from getting too far ahead of herself and you shift so you can sit in front of each other while you kiss. You really want her to keep touching you, but you don’t want to move too fast either. Jennifer lets out a soft sound of protest as you grab her wrists, her frustration flaring for half a second before your intentions click in her mind. When you shift to sit in front of her, she lets out a soft 'oh' of realization. She melts into the new position instantly, her legs shifting to cradle you between them as her free hands slide over your waist like a needy, possessive grip. Her kiss takes on a new, hungry edge now that she can pull you flush against her body instead. “You can still touch me if you want…I’ll just wait till you’re ready to touch you..” you say softly, not being able to help how needy you are. "You're too damn good to me," Jennifer grumbles between breaths, her voice low and ragged. Her hands are roaming again, but more slowly this time—her eyes locked on your face as she registers the new rules. She explores your curves, her thumb tracing over your hip bone and down to your thigh with an almost reverent touch. Her gaze is a heated mirror of need as she whispers against your mouth: "Can I leave marks?" You think for a second. “Fuck it…yeah..I’ll cover them later…but be careful, I’m not one of your meals..” you tease. Jennifer's eyes darken, the sharp edge of her grin turning downright possessive at your reply. It's like she's got your explicit permission to mark you up as hers, and she's damn well going to take advantage of that fact. "You're not a meal," she breathes, "You're something way better." Her fingernails dig into your hips as she pulls you against her, her lips and teeth already moving along your jawline and neck to search out the softest, most sensitive spots like a woman on a goddamn mission. “You get two bites only…leave as many hickeys as you want..” you say with a warning tone.
Jennifer shivers against you, her tongue tracing over the pulse point of your neck before she growls out a single, guttural word against your skin: "Deal." She starts slowly, her lips and teeth gentle but relentless as she sucks a dark mark into your neck. But the second your breath hitches to give away how good it feels, her grip on you goes tight—her teeth sinking into your soft flesh like something hungry just beneath the surface. You wince and tense up. Jennifer jerks back instantly, her eyes wide and wild with panic. Blood smears across her lip—she licks it away reflexively before freezing in horror. "Fuck! Fuck, I'm so sorry—I didn't mean to, I just got too carried away," she babbles frantically, "You're okay? Do you need ice? A towel?" Her hands hover over you like she's terrified to touch again without permission now. Her chest heaves as she stares at the small trickle of blood on your collarbone with something close to genuine distress. You touch the fresh wound to find the thin stream of blood. Your first thought is the blood might tempt her. “Are you okay? Should I go? Is the blood too much?” You panic for her sake, not wanting to temp her. Jennifer's entire body locks up at the mention of blood—her pupils dilate, her breath hitches. For a second, she looks terrified, like she’s about to lose control. "No—no no no," she rasps, "I'm fine. I can handle it." But her hands are shaking where they grip your shoulders too tight. "Go get ice or something for yourself," she blurts out in a rush, "Just... give me five seconds to breathe before you move around with an open wound."
“I-okay..yeah..” you quickly get out of bed and search for your clothes, quickly pulling your panties and shirt back on. You look at her once before rushing to the kitchen to get ice from the freezer. You wipe the wound with a napkin and put ice in a bag. You wrap the bag of ice in a towel and put it on your neck before you dig in the medicine cabinet to get rubbing alcohol to disinfect it. You put a paper towel covered in rubbing alcohol between the cut and the toweled ice bag. You stay in the kitchen for a few minutes to give her time. After a while, you slowly open her bedroom door and peek in to see if it’s safe. Jennifer is sitting stiffly on the edge of her bed, hands clenched into fists in her lap. She is fully clothed again. Her breathing is ragged, but she seems to have gotten herself under control—for now. When you peek in, she lifts her head and gives you a shaky smile. "Hey... come here," she murmurs, "I'm okay now." She pats the spot next to her with an unsteady hand—still nervous about how close your blood-scented skin will be when it's fresh. But there’s something painfully soft in the way she watches you press that makeshift ice pack against your neck like it physically hurts her too. “Are you sure? I didn’t put a Band-Aid on yet…” you say softly. Jennifer shakes her head, a scoff escaping her like she can't believe you're so damn chill about what just happened. "Don’t care," she murmurs. "Please just... come talk to me. Please." Her voice is low and pleading now—and it breaks your heart a little when you walk closer and realize how hard she's shaking. She needs this reassurance, needs to know that you're not scared of her or afraid. “Oh Jennifer..” you whisper as you pull her into a hug. Her hands clutch at the back of your shirt like you're the only thing keeping her from drowning. "I'm so fucking sorry," she mumbles wetly into your skin, "I didn't mean to—I swear I won’t ever do that again." Her body is still trembling slightly, but she doesn’t push you away. “Shhh it’s okay…I know it was an accident…we can do this another time…” You speak up to assure her, “..you wanna just lay down?” You ask quietly not pushing. She nods and looks up at you. “Okay..let’s lay down and get some rest..” You let go of her and the two of you lie in the bed together. You rest your head on her chest. The two of you cuddle and fall asleep watching cartoons tangled in each other’s limbs…
Lowkey Toxic!reader x lowkey toxic and manipulative!Gojo Satoru, not a prof writer or a fluent English speaker, don’t hate gang!!! ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)
This is smut guys…slightish maybe dubious consent in one area, alluded pee kink, it isn't a pee kink guys, infidelity, hitting but it's consensual and very much enjoyed by the other party, they are both okay with it, degrading inner talk, corny dialogue low-key, overstimulation, squirting, creaming, cumming inside, some kink shaming, guys idk what else…
Were you going to hell or heaven? You weren’t really sure, to be honest. But, you might take a wager.
“Don’t—Oh my god—Fuck—don’t stop.”
You moaned as you tried to hold onto his sweaty and hot pecs harder, Gojo could only groan as a smirk fell upon his face and his feral eyes were so dilated to heaven, you could barely see his annoyingly beautiful eyes anymore. He just grabbed you’re left leg and put it over his shoulder as he sat on you’re right leg and kept pushing his thick cock into you, the white tuffs on his part giving a weirdly fun feel when connecting to you’re tuffs of hair, god this stupid idiot had infected you so badly with his stupidity. What the fuck were you even feeling anymore? You could feel his large balls slap against you as the musty smell of sex penetrated the entire bedroom.
The bedroom that you shared with your boyfriend of three years, the one you were using to fuck your most hated person, fucking Gojo Satoru. The bane of your existence since meeting him freshmen year of Jujutsu college, since he was chosen as President of the curses of Japan Society because he was a Gojo and he was the strongest. Never mind the fact that you could go toe to toe with him, you were a commoner and a woman first before you were a sorcerer. So why the fuck were you doing this massive loser.
“Baby—ah come on, come back to me. Come back to daddy—“ Gojo panted only to stop as you gave him a slap, you hated when he would use those gross nicknames during sex, even if it brought some heat inside you, made you feel some weird type of pleasure. You were already doing the idiot, you still had some morals and that was beyond cringe—ugh. He only gave a large smile as he grabbed at your clit and rubbed it harsher in a way you hated in the middle of sex. You hated how overstimulated you get, you hated to be so much more vulnerable around him. Even when the end results felt so freeing and made you unable to stand. You couldn’t stand the fact that he brought that feeling to you. You never felt even a tinge of the emotions you felt during sex with Gojo with your boyfriend. Never as warm or as good.
You only slapped his chest with the hand that was already there and left a large print of red onto his pale and hot skin. “All right, I’ll stop…you enjoyed it though. I know you did.” Gojo's smile turned into a smirk as he took his hand away from your clit to focus on your nipples, you never felt much from it but seeing him play with it always brought such strange and enjoyable emotions that you didn’t mind, you could see him bend as he started to suck and lick at your nipples that were starting to get erect. You could feel his hand start to slide down from your feet and onto your ass as he held it tight.
You already knew it was gonna bruise, thank goodness you healed fast. From beyond his face on your chest and his eyes that wouldn’t leave yours, you could almost see his large and flushed cock beating inside of your vagina. He took the hand that was playing with one of your nipples and started to play with just above your clit, that's how you preferred to be touched. Your clitoris always felt so sensitive. Gojo stopped sucking your nipples and grinned at you, as he started to murmur to your boobs.
“Oh, you girls taste so good, acting real good for daddy. Aren't you?”
This fucking weird ass bastard, why did you sleep with him again? Why did you start?
Oh right—after you forced him to spar with you when you’re boyfriend forgot your anniversary so you needed a release. There might've always been tension of the sexual kind, well no. It was just tension of hate. Well, hate often leads into lust and he was pinning you and you felt so frustrated and angry that you kissed him and pulled away instantly in shock, only for Gojo to gaze at you in complete surprise and then elation and lust as he then pulled you back, and now a year later you guys were here. Fucking ontop of the sheets you bought.
He was so lucky, he was hot and somewhat charming at times. Lucky, that the man you were with could barely go a round before stopping, forgetting half the time about you and your pleasure. But, fuck could he be weird. He even named your breasts.
You felt his cock slip out from you and you could only whine, this fucker even had you whining, that's how good it felt with him. Gojo only shushed you as he quickly put you’re leg down from his shoulder and you could only bend you’re leg a few times as you felt it creak from the position it held for so long.
“Why—why—” You tried to murmer but he stopped you with his mouth and you felt the forceful push of his lips press against yours. Swallowing all your complaints and feeling his tongue dart out to dance with yours, feeling all the salvia between you two be exchanged and so good. Heaven or hell, you could never decide when you were with him. You were definitely going to hell but, god did he feel like heaven.
Gojo pulled away and only gazed at you with a strange expression, an expression you have seen directed to you for so long now, one that you knew you would find on your own face now. You didn't understand how you guys gazed at each other like these but hated each other so badly. Maybe, you guys hated each other in a special way? It was so fervent and pure and yet sinful. So contradictory, yet just like you guys to be so contradictory.
You hated this fucking loser. You hated him. You really did. Bu, fuck.
“Can we…can you get on top?” Gojo asked with a hopeful smile as he panted, he really wanted to see you on top, it was favorite position alongside doggy style. You were often in either with him alongside whatever new one he wanted to try out, which was often.
You looked to the left and tried to grab your phone only for him to stop you and grab it himself as he seemed to read something that had him grinning. “What did you see and what time is it?” You asked as you felt a bit sleepy, sex always made you sleepy but you had to make sure your boyfriend wasn't coming home soon as he always came at a certain time.
Gojo only shook his head as he cheekily answered, “Just seeing the time—we got three hours before the bastard comes.” You probably should've defended your boyfriend but you hardly had the care to do so, he barely defended you so why should you?
“Then fucking continue already, get on your back.”
The snark coming from you only had Gojo’s eyes brighten as he snarkily replied back, “Oh, of course as her majesty demands.” as he grabbed your waist and rolled you above him. You could feel his abs below your pussy, and you couldn't help but rub yourself against him as you groaned, he could only smirk as he held your waist and helped move you along his abs.
“Yeah, you like that don't you? Wanna finish like that?” He whined as you felt your wetness help you slide against him easier, god should you have peed before this? It did feel better holding it. What the actual fuck has this asshole done to you? You definitely did not have some weird kink, but it for some reason felt better holding it. Whatever, but you did know one did.
“No—fuck no. Just, put it in now please.”
You moaned as you felt the rising tension start to build up from your core. Gojo stopped your movements and pull you towards his dick, putting you just above it and being an asshole by making the tip of his cock rim you, moving you up and down like you were a sex toy for his pleasure. God, you hated the fucker.
You pushed his hands away from your waist roughly and moaned loudly when you dropped onto his dick as he gave out a large cry himself. It was as if your entire breathe was taken from you as you felt yourself be filled so thoroughly by Gojo’s cock, could you breathe? Have you ever breathed before—what the actual fuck. You felt it so deeply, you moved you’re hips to make it more comfortable and felt Gojo whine a bit from your movements, as his eyes started to appear a bit out of it before you forced yourself to be more on your knees and pushed up before dropping down again as you both groaned.
You kept riding his dick so hard, you think you felt him in your womb. His gigantic ass dick, how the fuck was he blessed with it when he's so annoying?
You gave his cold pierced nipples a kiss before sucking on the left and twirling your tongue around it while you forced two of your fingers into his mouth as he swirled his own tongue on them, his whine muffled by it.
You could feel him suck your fingers as his mouth started drooling. He put his left hand on your left hip and started to help you ride him and you felt that tension that had started to fall was rising again too fast and you felt him push your fingers out of his mouth as he took a large breathe, he forgot to breathe through his nose.
You pull away from his nipples, with the silver captive bead ring now warm and his nipples erect. Looking at him with a small smile as he smiled back with a wet mouth. His pink lips looked so soft and juicy, you couldn't help but lean in as you sloppily made out with him. His smile seemed to brighten before moving as well. Your tongues were dancing furiously as his right hand seem to pull you deeper into his face as if he couldn't get enough of it. Like he would die happily deprived of air as long as it was like this.
As he panted and huffed from the kiss, he shakily said, “Ima cum, I’m gonna—please. Fuck—” his distorted words were pausing every second as if he was forgetting to talk. You could only nod as your bouncing seems to reach crazy heights. You didn't even notice the door from the front of the apartment opening and closing.
All you cared about was taking every inch of Gojo and absorbing his cum into your very veins. God, you just needed it so bad. It feel so good, you were going crazy as you felt yourself get louder and louder until you started to wail as the loud sounds of skins slapping and the musty smell seemed to create a sex barrier of sorts as you and Gojo seem to share the same mind as to how good it felt.
He was starting to talk crazy to your pussy as he started to rub above your clit which drove you even crazier, hearing the fast footsteps barely made a dent in your sex crazed mind as you heard yourself scream for him to go harder.
“Yeah–oh fuck yeah—keep going crazy, baby. Daddies almost here.”
You could only nod like a fucking psycho who has lost their damn mind, and turned your head slightly when you heard the bedroom door open but you didn't even care even as you saw your boyfriend at the door because the only thing that mattered was that crazy rush of feelings that suddenly overflooded you. You felt his sperm completely cream you as you felt yourself squirt so much that you genuinely felt your eyes roll and kept twitching as you bounced on his cock. He forced your head down to kiss you even as he could see your boyfriend right there screaming at you both. You didn't even care, what the hell. It was so good, you felt Gojo smirk as he panted against you lips as he moved his head away slightly.
“Well, why are—why are you still here? Can’t you see your girls in good hands?” Gojo laughed maliciously as he held your waist with his left arm, you feel your boobs touch his chest. You were completely out of it as you heard your name called and looked up slightly.
“I don’t even fucking care anymore, we’re done.”
You panted as you genuinely could not give a single fuck, you were tired of the bastard and lost feelings a year ago, you were only with him because you didn't want to be alone but honestly, looking at Gojo. It was quite clear you wouldn't be. Honestly? You also didn't deserve a loser like your now ex-boyfriend, plus you could live without him.
Your ex seemed to whine rather grossly about some stuff but you hardly cared as you only rested your head on Gojo’s shoulder and felt knocked out.
Yeah, you hated Gojo but maybe not as much as you might’ve thought, he had a cute smile sometimes, and he had pretty eyes and you guess he was charming at times, but most important he had a really huge dick and he knew how to use it. So, yep—you were definitely going to hell, but, you were gonna go hopefully while riding that big dick.
Summary : An odd variant of Clark Kent bursts through your window and starts explaining your importance to the Superfamily, you think you would feel flattered if he hadn’t decided you were now his personal partner and you shouldn’t be helping anyone else.
A/N: I KNOW I KNOW, I just posted, but I have fallen down a hill known as Superboy Prime and I needed to do a temperature check for you guys before he burrowed farther into my brain and just started including himself into headcanons.
Prime:
“You know, Clark wouldn’t have survived half as long if you didn’t help him.” The man rants.
“Thanks… I think?”
“And don’t even get me started on your Superboy. He left you for Cassie, which is beyond idiotic-”
“CAN YOU SHUT UP FOR ONE SECOND.”
…
“That's even hotter in person…”
You stand up, “I’m leaving.”
In an unnecessary show of strength, he puts an index finger on your shoulder and simply pushes down, “Not yet. I need your help.”
“You, Superboy Prime. Need my help? I’m just an eye on the road.”
He sighs, “You weren’t listening to a thing I said earlier-”
“In my defence, you said alot.”
“They need you, just like I need you. I also plan to use you for your entire worth as well, not just as a lap dog but we can tackle that letter.” He winks.
“Ew.” More to level his ego than anything, “I don’t think you have the right person. I’m just the assistant. So either you’re lost, or you’re in the wrong universe.”
Silence.
He steps closer.
Careful.
Like approaching something that might disappear if he moves too fast.
“…You fix things,” he says.
It’s not a question.
He’s not wrong.
You’ve become the ‘fixer’ for your little family.
Ensuring your little ‘family’s’ lives stay normal when they land.
A jack of all trades, a healer, the lawyer, the guide, the incase of emergencies button.
Your fingers twitch toward the emergency beacon in your pocket out of habit. “Among other things.”
Another step.
Now he’s close enough that you can see it
the problem
His problem
He is falling apart at the seams.
He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.
His hair is a mess
His suit is threadbarren in some spots.
From a distance he looks fine, but up close, you start to realize why he took you here.
“You’re breaking down.” You whisper.
He shrugs, “Never completely fallen apart.”
Your head tilts, staring at him intently, “For multiple reasons, I doubt that.”
“…If I did,” he says slowly, “you wouldn’t be able to fix it.”
You meet his gaze.
Steady.
“Maybe not,” you admit.
Then, softer-
“But I’d try.”
Something in his expression falters.
Just for a second.
Like a crack forming in glass that’s never been touched before.
You might not be all that he seems to think of you, but you are not about to let another super fall apart.
Especially not one who wants you around.
He smiles, bright and excited, “I knew I’d get you to like me. It’s just like when Superman contacted you for the first time-”
I read a yandere prime superboy about like what if he just swoops you up and tells you all the things he knew about you and how you’re a fiction, just with a rare excitement in his eyes.
As a person who struggle with dissociations (mostly derealization) I would’ve freak the fuck out.
(I need to read superboy prime, tell me fun facts about him)
Prime feeling success while reader is about to have a meltdown with this info:
Lowkenuinely whipped up this blog in an hour to write superboy prime x reader fanfiction because the tag is fucking BARREN. I’ve been reading his comics & now I got brainworms. If that’s something people are interested in, slide into my ask box and put in a request :3 (I also will write about other characters/fandoms here’s a list)
Summary : An odd variant of Clark Kent bursts through your window and starts explaining your importance to the Superfamily, you think you would feel flattered if he hadn’t decided you were now his personal partner and you shouldn’t be helping anyone else.
A/N: I KNOW I KNOW, I just posted, but I have fallen down a hill known as Superboy Prime and I needed to do a temperature check for you guys before he burrowed farther into my brain and just started including himself into headcanons.
Prime:
“You know, Clark wouldn’t have survived half as long if you didn’t help him.” The man rants.
“Thanks… I think?”
“And don’t even get me started on your Superboy. He left you for Cassie, which is beyond idiotic-”
“CAN YOU SHUT UP FOR ONE SECOND.”
…
“That's even hotter in person…”
You stand up, “I’m leaving.”
In an unnecessary show of strength, he puts an index finger on your shoulder and simply pushes down, “Not yet. I need your help.”
“You, Superboy Prime. Need my help? I’m just an eye on the road.”
He sighs, “You weren’t listening to a thing I said earlier-”
“In my defence, you said alot.”
“They need you, just like I need you. I also plan to use you for your entire worth as well, not just as a lap dog but we can tackle that letter.” He winks.
“Ew.” More to level his ego than anything, “I don’t think you have the right person. I’m just the assistant. So either you’re lost, or you’re in the wrong universe.”
Silence.
He steps closer.
Careful.
Like approaching something that might disappear if he moves too fast.
“…You fix things,” he says.
It’s not a question.
He’s not wrong.
You’ve become the ‘fixer’ for your little family.
Ensuring your little ‘family’s’ lives stay normal when they land.
A jack of all trades, a healer, the lawyer, the guide, the incase of emergencies button.
Your fingers twitch toward the emergency beacon in your pocket out of habit. “Among other things.”
Another step.
Now he’s close enough that you can see it
the problem
His problem
He is falling apart at the seams.
He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.
His hair is a mess
His suit is threadbarren in some spots.
From a distance he looks fine, but up close, you start to realize why he took you here.
“You’re breaking down.” You whisper.
He shrugs, “Never completely fallen apart.”
Your head tilts, staring at him intently, “For multiple reasons, I doubt that.”
“…If I did,” he says slowly, “you wouldn’t be able to fix it.”
You meet his gaze.
Steady.
“Maybe not,” you admit.
Then, softer-
“But I’d try.”
Something in his expression falters.
Just for a second.
Like a crack forming in glass that’s never been touched before.
You might not be all that he seems to think of you, but you are not about to let another super fall apart.
Especially not one who wants you around.
He smiles, bright and excited, “I knew I’d get you to like me. It’s just like when Superman contacted you for the first time-”
Tags; short, crack, fluff, this is my first time writing for prime plz dont execute me, reader is oblivious+idgafer final boss, gender neutral pronouns, reader is also more of a marvel fan, confessions, proof-read by my friend so if anything goes wrong thats them
“I’m just saying that it will be a better use of our time,” you hear the agitating, grating voice of the symbiote in your head.
You groaned internally, “No, Venom—staying at our crappy hotel watching TV while snacking on chocolate is not a better use of our time.”
Let’s go over this one more time—
“You’re not this spider person you think you are,” said Venom.
Can’t even let a person dream these days.
You ignore the parasite and continue on with your mental recap. Venom was almost—no, they were sure you were losing your mind.
You’re not from around here.
You got into a classic truck crash from saving a kid and woke up in Gotham with an alien in your head.
Fine and dandy, am I right?
It would’ve been fine and dandy—
if you had only been transmigrated into your fandom.
You were ultimately as clueless as a newborn baby when you awakened and immediately saw cops chasing a criminal who was knocking down trash cans, a mugging happening right in front of a convenience store, and some bat with a kid wearing Christmas colors beating a couple of goons on the rooftop of the building you were leaning on for support.
Everything was also in monochrome for some odd reason. Except for the kid wearing Christmas colors.
It was safe to say you instantly clocked that you weren’t in the Marvel universe.
You remembered saying goodbye to the dream of having an upside-down kiss with Spider-Man.
You scrunched your nose at how you had to get used to the pollution in Gotham. The stink and water there were no joke.
At least you had your buddy—Venom—with you.
You were surprised that you had transmigrated with the symbiote—a pleasant surprise, though.
It was relieving to have some sort of protection—and something familiar you understood—with you in this new place.
You don’t want to go into all the details and adventures you and Venom had in Gotham, because it would take too long.
One thing was for sure—you had fun. With Venom.
The run-ins with the bats were pretty A-okay.
You were sure a superfan would sell their soul to be in your place, but when you only know four things—like you—it wasn’t all that. (With the exception of being in a world where actual superheroes exist—that was, like—really, really cool.)
The first thing you knew was Superman. Everybody knows Superman, duh.
Since you realized you were in Gotham (if it wasn’t already painfully obvious from how depressing the city was) from a huge sign on a billboard, that came second.
Third was that Batman is Bruce Wayne.
Fourth, Bruce Wayne is like Tony Stark but more emo.
Fifth, Nightwing fans are Larpers. (You didn’t even know who Nightwing was.)
That was actually five things, but you don’t really care. Venom had no idea until recently that you’re from another Earth or whatever—since you set up a boundary that they weren’t allowed to poke around your mind.
You adjusted the strap of your bag while you unhurriedly walked down the streets of Metropolis. You were only in this city for business (buying comics and manga that weren’t released in Gotham yet).
That business actually brought you to meet your sort-of-new friend.
Clark Kent.
Nope—not the one you know.
The one who went bonkers from the destruction of your home. The one who got a redemption arc recently and is working in a comic bookstore.
Chill guy, am I right?
The two of you met in said comic bookstore, 500 Days of Summer record store scene style.
You were looking over the new releases and maybe accidentally said a Marvel reference under your breath—because that man went dashing to your side.
He was THRILLED to meet you as one of the last remnants of your homeworld. And hey, you were thrilled too, because someone could finally tell you what’s up.
And when he heard you were the Venom in Gotham, boy—you thought he was about to combust. (He earned a lot of shushes and glares that day.)
He basically yapped your ears off (not that you minded), to the point the manager had to grab his attention to assist the other customers.
When you checked out the comics, he complimented you on your taste—and slid his number, written on a piece of paper you assumed he had torn off in a hurry.
[You]
Hi
+67 67676767
Meet me tomorrow at Super Café 3pm
[You]
Ok
And that encounter led you to even more hangouts. Yay to a new friend. He was really helpful, because you finally clocked on who Nightwing is (labeled as “blue weird guy” in your brain).
This Saturday at 3 PM in the afternoon—because that was prime time apparently—you were on your way to meet CK again at Super Café.
Venom usually does whatever they do in your brain because they don’t want to hear your “nerd discussions for nerds.”
They were interested. Sometimes. Often. Seldom.
Oh hey, you're finally here.
Clark waved—grinning already. His dark hair was tousled like usual, and his glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. He was wearing a plaid red-and-black jacket with a black T-shirt underneath and pants.
He kind of looked like a millennial, if you were being honest.
You walked closer. He had picked one of the more secluded tables outside the café, an umbrella shielding you both from the sun. You’d mentioned once that you liked being outside—how you could actually feel and see the sunshine in Metropolis.
“Hi, Clark. Sorry I was late,” you greeted, taking the seat across from him.
“Late?” he said, like he had to process it for a second. Then he smiled. “Nah, it’s fine. You’re here.”
He slid a drink across the table toward you. “I ordered for you. Same as last time.”
You took the plastic cup. Nice—still cold.
“Thanks, buddy,” you nodded, taking a sip through the straw, the cold drink cutting cleanly through the warm afternoon.
He looked proud of himself. Maybe you should order a venti with one extra sweet drizzle caramel latte with two pumps of vanilla extract, whipped cream, two extra shots of espresso, plus a rainbow unicorn smoothie with pink sprinkles instead of rainbow and low-fat milk instead of regular cow next time.
He kept looking around, but he finally blurted out, “You should come by often.”
You were busy taking another long, comically loud sip of your drink.
You licked your lips. “Where?”
“—the comic bookstore,” he said quickly, like he’d been holding it in for a while. “I mean—not just for the comics. I just—” he scratched the back of his neck, glancing away for half a second. “It’d be nicer to have you around more.”
You nodded with a hum.
“True. But don’t you have other buddies there?” You raised a brow, setting your drink down with a soft thunk.
He huffed a laugh—quick, almost disbelieving, like the question didn’t even make sense.
“Uh, no. Not really.”
Then he leaned forward slightly, more serious now.
“You’re the only one who actually gets it.”
Yeah, you kind of—already got used to his weird mood swings, so you just laughed it off. He said that a lot—you being the only one who understands him or something.
“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off lightly, leaning back in your chair. “I get it. I’m special. Try not to cry about it.”
“I’m not—” he cut himself off, exhaling through his nose. “That’s not what I—whatever.”
You snorted, tapping your fingers against your cup. “Relax, I’m messing with you.”
“So,” you tilted your head, “what are we arguing about today?”
His eyes lit up almost instantly, like a switch flipped.
“Okay—no, because I’ve been thinking about this,” he leaned forward again, elbows on the table, fully locked in. “That run we talked about? The alternate timeline one?”
“The depressing one where everything goes wrong because people can’t communicate?” you deadpanned.
“That’s not—” he stopped, frowned, then pointed at you. “Okay, yeah, a little, but that’s not the point.”
“It’s a pretty big point.”
“You’re missing it,” he insisted, faster now, words starting to stack over each other. “The whole thing is about how one change affects everything. Like, it’s not just bad decisions—it’s cause and effect. It matters.”
'This guy is really geeked out.' surprisingly, Venom speaks up.
You hummed, dragging your straw around the inside of your cup. “I still think half of it was just the writer wanting an excuse to make everyone miserable.”
“That’s not—” he leaned back for a second, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to reset. Then he leaned in again. “No, because if you look at the original version—”
“I have looked at the original version.”
“Then you should know it’s not as developed.”
You raised a brow. “Not as developed? That version actually takes time with the character instead of throwing him into a suffering speedrun.”
“That’s the point!” he said again, louder this time, earning a glance from a nearby table. He lowered his voice slightly, but the intensity stayed. “It shows what happens when things don’t go the way they’re supposed to.”
Wow, he is fired up about this stuff. Memories flash in your mind where you successfully rage-baited him by saying Wolverine should be on the Mount Rushmore of superheroes instead of Wonder Woman.
You glanced at the sidewalk, watching a teenager attempt to do a skateboarding trick—only to fail horrendously.
“Okay. You're not even listening to me,” Clark flatly said, taking one long sip of his drink.
You stuck your tongue out at him. “You need to take a chill pill. And we need to talk about something better.”
He stared at you, unimpressed.
“Yeah, dude. Chill pill.” You nodded. “You’re like—two sentences away from writing a whole essay on why continuity is the backbone of society.”
“It is important,” he muttered, but there was less bite in it now.
“Mm-hm. Sure. We’ll circle back to your manifesto later.” You waved your hand dismissively. “New topic.”
He leaned back in his chair, arms still crossed, but he was listening.
“…Fine,” he said. “Pick one.”
You looked up at the sky, as if it has all the answers. Then you perked up. “I know! Comic couples.”
You went on, “My personal favorite is Gwen Stacy and Peter Parker—”
He immediately coughed, loud and dramatically covering his mouth like he’d just been personally attacked.
“BIASED!” he choked out, coughing again for emphasis.
You shot him a look. “Dude. Okay, fine—maybe it’s because of The Amazing Spider-Man movies, but—”
he drawled, “Biiiaaaased,” pretending to sneeze right after.
You ignored him and continued, “Mary Jane Watson is, like, obviously cool too. She’s perfect for him, and we need Paul DEAD—” you waved your hands around. “Okay, enough about that. How about you, Clark? What’s your favorite comic pairing?”
He scoffed, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “I don’t give a fuck. It’s just writers bashing each other’s pairs. One run is this couple, the next is that. It’s the same shit over and over again.”
You rested your cheek on your hand. “Yeah… but what’s your favorite pair?”
Clark took a second too long to respond, but he mumbled out, “superboyandvenom.”
“What? Didn’t quite catch that, buddy.” You leaned in slightly closer.
“Superboy and Venom,” he said—absolutely certain this time.
You blinked at him.
“Okay. Wow. Didn’t take you as a rare pair guy, but—” Clark opened his mouth to argue, but it died on his tongue as he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed instead.
“It’s okay, buddy. I don’t judge.”
“…You are literally judging me right now.”
“I’m not,” you said immediately. “I’m thinking. There’s a difference.”
He dropped his hand from his face and looked at you—really looked at you this time—like he was trying to decide if you were messing with him or if this was just how you operated as a person.
“...You’re unbelievable.”
“Thank you,” you nodded, taking another sip of your drink.
“Superboy and Venom?” you repeated, slower this time, tilting your head. “Like—romantically? Or are we talking… like a team-up?”
“Take it as anything you want..” Clark replied vaguely, his ears were tipped red. Poor guy, must've gotten slammed for shipping Venom and Superboy back then.
Huh.. You've never considered Eddie Brock and Conner Kent though. (Yes you know conner thanks to Clark.)
It would be an interesting duo.. to say the least.
You leaned back in your chair, straw still between your lips, eyes unfocused as your brain started connecting dots that probably shouldn’t be connected.
“…That’s kind of insane.”
Clark immediately perked up. “Right? It's nice though rig—”
“No, like—actually,” you continued, lowering your drink. “You’ve got a person who willingly shares their body with an alien parasite—”
‘WE prefer partner,’ Venom cut in, mildly offended.
“—and then a super with, like, pre-installed identity issues,” you finished, gesturing vaguely with your cup. “Thats like, wow. Already tons of problems.”
Clark shook his head immediately. “No, it’s not. It’s—” he hesitated, searching, then leaned forward like he’d just found the perfect argument, “—it’s complementary.”
You stared at him, “Yeah—okay? maybe I see it,”
“Think about it—one of them chose what they are. The other one didn’t get that luxury,” he said, a little bit more defensive.
You clicked your tongue. “Still sounds like they’d argue every five minutes.”
“They would,” he admitted.
You rubbed your temple. “Anyway—point is, yeah, it’s interesting. In a ‘this could go horribly wrong’ kind of way.”
Clark’s lips twitched, like he was holding back a smile. “...Or right.”
You snorted. “You’re really rooting for this, huh?”
And he definitely put a lot of thought in this pairing. Venom groaned, like they were getting something you weren't.
“Also, isn't the age gap big—like eddie is,” you were about to continue but Clark stared at you so dumbfoundedly.
“What eddie—? Do you seriously think I'm talking about Eddie Brock right now—” Clark lets out a frustrated groan, burying his head on his hands.
“IM TALKING ABOUT US! YOU AND ME!”
The other customers glanced at your table, making your cheeks go warm. Or was it because of Clark saying that you two would be a good pair—ugh whatever. You don't know.
“Oh.” you said out of automatic response, then paused—“Ohh…” as realization finally dawned on you.
Clark looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
His ears were still red. Actually—worse now. He dragged a hand down his face again, groaning under his breath. “Yeah. ‘Oh.’ Great. Awesome. Glad we got there.”
His hands were still in his hair, shoulders tense, like he was trying to rewind the last five seconds and failing miserably.
“I didn’t mean—” he started, then stopped, groaning under his breath. “No, I did mean it, just—not like—”
“Like what?” you asked, tilting your head.
“I mean, I did mean it—just..” he forced the words out, “Not in the team way,”
“Wait—so this whole time—you weren’t talking about Eddie Brock and Conner?”
Clark stared at you like you’d just asked if air was optional.
“No.”
“And not, like, hypothetically?”
“No.”
“And not in a ‘cool concept, would be fun to read’ way?”
“No,” he repeated, more tired now.
“I mean,” you shrugged after a second, “you could’ve just said that.”
Clark let out a disbelieving laugh. “I tried.”
“When?”
“Just now. And earlier. And—” he gestured vaguely, clearly exasperated. “You just—keep missing it.”
“Well, you should've been more specific—”
Clark let out a breath, leaning back in his chair, one hand covering his eyes now. “Unbelievable.”
You tapped your fingers against your cup again, glancing at him.
“…So,” you said, casual—too casual, “you think we’d work?”
‘He literally just technically said that, you dumb oaf,’ Venom, once again voices out another unwanted opinion, and you once again, ignore them.
Clark didn’t answer right away. His hand dropped from his face, and he looked at you again—less flustered now, more certain.
“Yeah,” he said.
Great. Because you think so too.
A/N; I am literally taking shots in the dark rn. Plz let me know if i shot atleast one. Reader is based off on this fic, check it out its so good.
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