Summary: Michael can't stand being away from his Daddy for too long. Naturally he gets ansty, moody, and unable to focus. He doesn't need some after-party to celebrate his big win tonight. He needs his daddy's love.
Tags: 18+(MDNI), Sub!Michael, Dom!Male!Oc, Slight Brat!Michael, Slight Brat-Taming, Daddy kink, Implied age gap, Fluff and Comfort, Finger Sucking, Slightly erotic
wc: 631
A/N: This was actually gonna be The Jacksons era Michael, but I changed my mind.
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The moment Michael had nestled his head into the lap below him, it was like a heavy weight had been lifted off of his chest. The lightness which followed was freeing; it felt like being a bird that, after weeks of being caged, was finally able to roam the sky to its heart's content.
The warmth of his Daddy's skin seeped through the fabric of his trousers and into Michael's own cooler temperature, until they both shared the same body heat. Daddy's hand combed through his curls, and his lengthy lashes fluttered, fanning light shadows on his face that was now bathed in the dim amber light of the room.
He felt his own lips curl upward subconsciously into a contented smile as Daddy's hand continued its motions.
Only then did his muscles unclench, his body going lax as he shifted to rest his gloved hand on the older man's strong legs.
"Daddy?" His voice came out in soft, breathy calling.
"Yes, angel?" That deep, rumbling voice responded, smooth as velvet and as rich as hot chocolate. Michael instinctively nestled in even closer at the comforting sound of his Daddy speaking.
"... Nothing," Michael sighed, eliciting a surprised chuckle out of the older man.
"Then why did you call me, baby?" Daddy humored.
"Just wanted to." Michael replied, somewhat flippant. Daddy's hand tightened imperceptively around his curls in subtle warning, which made the noiret's breath catch. The touch went straight to his crotch, his cock already twitching to life, and before he could stop it, a faint moan slipped free. He loved it when his Daddy kept him in check, however little his transgression were.
Daddy chuckled again at his boy's barely concealed arousal. "Really?" He didn't need to elaborate, they both knew what he was getting at.
A brief quietness fell over the two again, and the other man continued to card through Michael's raven locks, while the young man leaned into his touch without hesitation.
"Daddy?" Michael called again, words slightly muffled.
"...Yes?"
Michael giggled through his following response. "Nothingggg..."
"Boy─"
"Haha!" Michael interrupted with a higher squeal of laughter. He scrambled up and back onto Daddy's lap, this time with his ass pressing down on those strong thighs. His hands found purchase in the shirt that stretched over the older man's broad shoulders. "Hehe..."
"You play too damn much," Daddy muttered, his handsome face softening into something simultaneously annoyed and fond.
"That's cause I wanna play with you, Daddy," Michael countered mischievously, "None of the other daddies wanna play with me."
"There aren't any other daddies," the older man scoffs, his thick fingers pressing into the younger man's hipbones.
"Exactly!" Michael's eyebrows raised high as if he just made a profound point of some kind. "...Just want you to play with me... you alone.." he mumbled, eyes zeroing in on his Daddy's lips as he leaned in.
Chuu...
One kiss became two... then three... then... more. The gentle, wet sounds of their lips meeting filled the quiet space, his Daddy's hands guided his hips until the supple mass of his ass was pressed right up against the other man's half-hard, clothed dick. Michael let out a high-pitched whine around the tongue in his mouth. "Daddy...!"
"Be quiet," Came Daddy's quiet command. "You want your reward tonight, you hush. Understood?"
"Yes daddy," Michael breathed in such a needy tone of voice.
"Open." Daddy's index and middle finger pressed against his plump lips, which obediently fell open, wrapping around the two fingers eagerly.
The older man's eyes had now gone cloudy with a hint of lust as he wordlessly watched his boy suckle his two fingers. For a second, Michael imagined his Daddy's cock instead of his fingers, and his eyes fluttered shut again at the delicious thought as his cock gave another little twitch.
— SUMMARY: Michael oozes sex appeal without even trying. He’s the world’s biggest sex symbol, he dances like someone that puts women through mattresses, and his songs are filled with longing to make sweet love to women. So, why won’t he fuck you?
— WARNINGS: sub!michael, objectification/perversion, voyeurism, dacryphila, slight somnophilia, inspection kink, accidental edging, overstimulation, pain kink, face sitting, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, aggressive sex, mike is pussy drunk, soft dom!reader, cockwarming, aftercare (finally!), fluff. not proofread (yet)!
— WC: 7k (I really don’t know how to shut up…)
— A/N: Based off a prompt from this poll. Yeah, it’s gon get real nasty in here. Also, imagine the biggest L-shaped couch in existence. It’ll make a lot more sense that way, trust me. Please like, comment and reblog. Thank you all so much for 300 followers!
It was getting ridiculous. 10 and a half months of tension and torture. You were getting so desperate, you started feeling like a hormone-driven, college-aged man.
Seriously, you were objectifying Michael’s every action like some pervert. The way his tongue swirled around his lips after they’d gotten a little dry. Putting on lipgloss just to ‘share some’ with him. Purposely asking him to play his grand piano so that you could watch his fingers work over every tooth. Even objectifying the soft sighs of content he’d make in his sleep.
Your body was aching for his touch.
It all came to a head after you watched your tape of Michael’s Dirty Diana performance in Wembley. Michael had his team take personal videos for you since you couldn’t make it due to work obligations. He was going over the videos with you in your house’s upstairs loft, excitedly gauging your every reaction to the show he put on.
I imagined you standing right on stage with me in this one, he’d told you, handing you the copy so you could put it into the VCR.
As you watched it, you couldn’t help but focus on every detail. He looked so desperate and sang so sensually. Naturally, it turned you on, especially since you’ve been so hungry for him for so long. You were squirming with every thrust, leaking through every hungry whine that seeped past his lips. After the video stopped, your panties were embarrassingly soaked.
He stared at you expectantly and finally cleared his throat after you sat there eyes wide and silent for 4 whole minutes.
“Michael,” you said evenly, voice coming out smoother than you felt.
“Did you like it?” he asked, aching for your approval.
“Like? Mike my panties are soaked,” you admitted with a longing sigh. You were edging over the precipice of insanity.
“O-oh…?” he responded bashfully, not sure how to insert his commentary into this topic.
Admittedly, Michael was insane about you. He kept up a good front when needed, but there were so many times he almost fully let himself go for you. The time you made brownies together and he purposely swiped his index finger around the remnants inside the mixing bowl, presenting his finger so that he could feel your tongue and cheeks suck around his skin. Or, the time you’d left your shared bathroom door slightly ajar, him eagerly peeking in while he watched you clean your sex precisely, his mouth going dry at the sight of your delicate fingers touching your glistening pussy.
He even got turned on by you crying after the two of you watched a particularly devastating romantic movie. The sight of your eyebrows scrunching together was reminiscent of the few times you’d let your makeout sessions turn into heavy petting and your face would mold into the same look when his hardened length desperately ground against your pajama-clad clit.
Still, your admission left him flustered. You broke the silence.
“Why won’t you fuck me?” you asked him, eyes pleading pathetically for his answer.
“Pardon?” he asked, taken aback by the direct question.
“I said,” you inched closer to him on the couch, hand creeping onto his, “Why don’t you fuck me?”
“I-i want…I will…I think about it?” his confession turning into a question as he started losing himself at the feeling of your fingers atop of his. He composed himself and started over.
“It’s just…I want to learn you. I sing all these songs about sexual pleasure and desire, but I feel like a poser. I wanna learn your body. I want to know what exactly makes you squirm, what touches bring you over the edge. Most importantly, I wanna please you. Above anything, I want your pleasure to be put before mine. I want to give you everything before I let you take all of me. Before I make love to you.”
His words stunned you. Obviously, Michael was the most romantic and compassionate person ever, but an insecure part of your brain had convinced you he just didn’t want it. He didn’t want you in that way.
“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.” You were embarrassed now. Your eyes started brimming with tears, embarrassment flooding over you for ruining the moment.
“Hey, what’s the matter, baby? C’mere. Why’d you ask me that?” he asked you, his slender form slinking closer to yours, engulfing you into a tender hug. He ignored the arousal threatening to bubble through his actions at the sight of your tear clad face.
You hurriedly wiped the tears that were desperately inching to slip from your eyes.
“I dunno. I just thought you didn’t want me in that way. You always stop anything before we can let it get too far. You even cover your eyes when I get naked in front of you.” You let out an airy laugh at the thought. He slightly leaned his body away from yours, capturing your face in his gigantic hands.
“Of course I want you in that way. Didn’t you see my performance? I basically begged for your body up there. I guess I just suck at asking for it.” He scratched the back of his neck, the realization of his lack of direct communication now weighing on him.
“Then do it,” you demanded, the need in your voice almost turning it into pleading. “Ask for it. Beg. Show me you want me.”
He expression turned serious, eager to please you.
“I will.” It was a promise, leaving no room for questions or confusion. Immediately, the weight in the air turned from confusion and insecurity to unbridled lust and determination. He was gonna learn you the way he described.
Faster than you could protest- not that you would- he adjusted your positions. He gently leaned your back onto the enormous, expensive black couch and positioned both of his legs on either side of your torso.
“I’m gonna kiss you first. But please, tell me everything you like. Tell me what you want. I’m going to give everything to you,” he stated, and he leaned in for the kiss.
It was explorative and wandering, his tongue prodding here and there with unspoken questions of your desires. He’d bite your lip, pocketing away your reaction as if he were studying it for a test. When he started sucking your tongue, a loud grumble settled deeply in your chest, and he responded with a groan, pleased with his findings. You were nasty, like him. He liked that.
His kisses escaped your encapsulating lips and immediately found their way to your ear. This was something he was curious about. He parted his mouth and gave your lobe a curious graze, looking up at you from under his long lashes. Your back arched infinitesimally as you let out the quietest whine known to humanity. He dove back in and bit harsher, and you whimpered desperately.
“Hmm,” he noted to himself.
His lips and tongue explored your neck next, eager to have an excuse to mark you through in his study of your body. He was fully committed to his research, obsessively sucking and biting the supple skin of your neck as he cradled the side of it in a vampire-esque way. The way you gasped and groaned whenever he sucked harsher bruises into your skin was magnetic. His mind was driven to please.
He continued his journey to your tits, the sight of them short circuiting his brain momentarily. He removed his mouth from the swell of them and groped them greedily, his palms pressing deliciously against your braless nipples through the fabric. He wet his lips at the erotic sight of you. You looked up at him, a silent plea in your eyes for more, and he curled his fingers around the neckline of your tank top.
“Do you want-” Michael began.
“Take it off. Want your mouth on my nipples,” you instructed. You sat up as he followed your command instantly, his hands removing your shirt with precision.
You didn’t know how much you needed this. The moment his lips met your erect nipples, your brain seized with an electric jolt of pleasure.
“Mmm,” you sighed, basking in the pleasure and heat. He was sucking at your breast like he was thirsty, every twitch from your body giving him encouragement. He tried your other breast and you reacted even more so.
“This one’s more sensitive.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. He was still researching your body.
“Y-yeah- shit,” you let out an expletive at the feeling of his tongue flicking up and down on the sensitive nub, and you could sense a teasing demeanor slip through his ministrations. You grabbed onto his head and aggressively mashed it against the plush area, eliciting a whimper from him. Your dominance turned him on.
He popped off after your grip on his head loosened. His body slithered down your own like a serpent, sliding down in a way so fluid you would’ve applauded if not for the situation you were currently in.
Then, he just stared at you. Your hair was in a disarray and your nipples were wet and hard. You had the evidence of his possessiveness littered all over your neck and collarbones. To top it off, you were whimpering and panting underneath him. He absolutely adored you like this.
He grew a little more confident, testing your limits here. He had a sneaking suspicion you were into something else. Experimenting with this theory, he ran his hands up and down your torso, preparing for his surprise. Then, you felt a hypnotic jolt of pleasured pain shoot up your spine and let out a cry.
He’d pinched both of your nipples. Hard. After seeing your reaction, he did it again, testing how much harder he could go.
You were an absolute mess. You couldn’t even speak, just letting out whines of approval.
Michael just kept watching.
He dragged his nails up and down your body, starting from the dips in your collarbones to the tops of your knees. It was exhilarating. Particularly, his hand being so close to your neck. You grabbed for it a bit when he was dragging his hands down, but he misread that as you wanting him to go lower. You decided you’d bring it up later.
“Can I take your jeans off and you turn around, please?” he questioned you, an idea evident behind his dark eyes.
You obliged suspiciously, throwing your bottoms on the stack of tapes you’d watched earlier.
As soon as you settled comfortably onto your stomach, Michael lowered his body onto your thighs and slapped your ass so hard that you felt stars. You immediately arched up into his touch, the movement causing his crotch to rub against the back of your thighs. You both moaned out- you lewdly, him embarrassed- at the contact. He rubbed the sensitive area pervertedly, gripping onto your cheek in an unintentionally obvious way.
“S-so you like pain.” Again, not a question, but a note he was taking on this crash course of your desires.
“Mm- yeah i love it,“ you revealed in a tone Michael had never heard you use before. He’d already started making you feel so far gone and he hadn’t even traveled to where you wanted him most.
“Oh god,” he whispered to himself. You heard it, though.
“What?” you asked through ragged breathing, craning your neck the best you could to see his face.
“Keep talking like that, please. I’m into it.” He closed his eyes slightly and rocked his hips onto your thighs subconsciously as the tone of your voice echoed in his brain.
“Hit me again, Mikey. I want it.” You sounded like a pornstar. The tone in your voice was stuck between being full on moans and needy whines.
He obeyed without second thought, his eager eyes watching as the skin under his large hand recoiled and got darker.
“F-uck!” you hiccuped out. You felt tears stinging your eyes at the sensation. The pain was so fucking good. You could feel your pussy glue to your panties from all of the arousal drooling from it.
You arched your ass up higher now, your body craving for more of him. You wanted him everywhere.
He let out a little yelp at the sensation, but then his eyes got distracted.
You were wet. Really, really wet.
Without thought, his hand fluttered straight to the spot on your panties, running over it once so he could feel the stickiness on his fingers.
“Can I please take your underwear off? I wanna look at you,” he asked with patheticism in his voice.
You lifted your ass up higher and let out an ‘mhm’ giving him the okay to slide them off for you.
As he dragged them off your feet, he got off of your body and gently pushed you forward a little more.
“Can I have you stay exactly the way you are, but just on your knees?”
You obliged, leaving your head and torso against the couch while your ass went higher into the air, like you were gonna take him from behind. The image made you clench longingly. He caught that movement immediately.
Then, he sat on his knees right behind you, positioning his face right in front of your core. He leaned in and fanned his hot breath over it, watching you flinch and clench again. He took his middle finger and ran it up and down your folds annoyingly slow. His finger went inside of you just barely, testing how tight it was and teasing you by rolling it around slowly. He pulled out and sucked loudly on his finger for you to hear. Your hole leaked a clear, slick liquid.
He moaned at the flavor, tattooing it to his memory, before he took that same finger and rubbed it into your clit with a feather-like touch.
He knew you wanted more, and he wanted to give it to you, but God, the way your pussy reacted to everything was so captivating. He could watch it clench and leak forever. He dragged his finger back toward your entrance and spread you open with it, inspecting every ridge and fold that his eyes could register. His mouth watered.
You let out a soft whimper when his finger probed your hole again, your resolve weakening.
“Michael stop fuckin’ teasin’ me,” you whined.
“I’m sorry baby, you just look so pretty down there,” he responded, slipping his digit inside immediately. The way you clenched around it was like ecstasy.
“Yeah! Mmm, Mike. Go in ‘n out fast ‘n c-curl your finger up when it’s inside. I- ahh- like it rough.”
You liked it rough. Those were the words that influenced the rest of his actions for the night.
He added his index finger and pistoned them both into you harshly, letting your moans fill up his ears and be his driving force.
“Like that, baby! Fuck! F-feels so fucking good,” you mewled.
He leaned down and slightly nipped your ass cheek, eager to see you squirm and feel your hungry pussy suck his fingers deeper inside.
You shrieked and pushed your ass back farther, your walls closing in against his digits. It was getting harder and harder to move inside you.
“You have to relax, love,” he coaxed you gently.
“Ngh- j-just feels too good,” you babbled out. Your brain was making it feel like every nerve of your body was receiving a sensual kiss. You could barely think. Then his tongue was on you.
He latched onto your clit with perfect accuracy and started sucking cautiously, knowing the area was particularly sensitive. Your legs spasmed and you got up onto your hands, needing some grounding. You moaned out his name and the sound hit him like a symphony, encouraging him further.
“Mmm, Michael. You’re so good. Perfect, feels perfect.” you praised him, unable to say proper sentences.
He hummed against you, still keeping up that aggressively brutal pace with his fingers, and you started to see white.
“Ohhh my- I’m s-so close!” you called out, feeling the all too familiar whisper of release heightening your senses and settling into your abdomen.
He sat back, his chin covered with your essence, and set his pace with his fingers faster. Then, he stopped and pulled them out hurriedly.
“I wanna see you. Can you look at me while you cum?” he asked as he slid directly under shaking body, your dripping pussy directly above his face. He pulled you strongly by your thighs, settled you onto his mouth, and continued feasting. His eyes trailed from your beautiful breasts right up to your contorted face, and he moaned loudly at the sight.
You sat up, feeling your orgasm approach again, and rode his mouth and nose for dear life, grabbing one of Michael’s hands to play with your nipple. You watched his face as you ground back and forth.
You looked too good to be true. He got lost in the meal and lightly grazed your clit with his teeth, wanting to learn just how rough he was allowed to get.
Your legs suddenly locked up and you buried his nose deep into your pelvis, blocking all of his air. Then, he felt it.
Your eyes rolled up and your hand gripped from his and slotted into his hair and you let out the most broken moan imaginable. Your warm, sticky release soaked the entire bottom half of his face.
“F- OH!” was all you could say as it dawned on you.
Michael couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t want to. He lapped at you through the whole thing, his vision blacking out as he lost air. You leaned forward and collapsed your body right above his head, having enough sense to remember to let him breathe. Again, Michael didn’t want to.
He got a fierce hold on your spent body and sat you right back on top of him, wanting more of your juices. He would happily pass out over and over from you suffocating him with your pussy if it were up to him.
“Not done yet,” he stated as he dove back in, this time groping your ass and pulling you onto him by it. He shoved his nose forward, fiercely taking his air away, while looking up at you like you were treasure.
“Mike! S’ too m-much.” You started sobbing above him, the pleasure overwhelming you. A tear spilled over your cheek and landed on his forehead. Yet, you secretly didn’t want him to stop. The fire in his eyes to please you was intense and infectious.
Michael ignored your words, eyes glazing over at the sight of your pleasure evident tears, as he started losing oxygen again. He moved his nose away and inhaled the air desperately, ready to lose it all again.
Unbeknownst to him, your second orgasm was running toward you at full speed, not giving you enough time to prepare for it. You choked out a glorious sob of his name and jerked your hips up, the tip of his nose sitting proudly under your clit.
Underneath you, he was smiling like a lunatic
You slid down and laid atop of his body, catching your breath for the second time, after not even really catching it the first.
He looked down at you on his chest, worried he’d pushed you too far.
You could feel his loaded gaze on you.
“Not done. Just need to catch my breath,” you said as you looked up and gave him a lazy smile.
It took his breath away. You looked ruined. Your eyes were red and wet with tears, your hair was a mess, the hickeys and scratches on your skin were darker. And you were drooling.
“You’re breathtaking,” he told you with a genuine gasp.
“So are you,” you complimented. He looked just as fucked out as you did, and he wasn’t even getting touched.
“I need you. I want you inside of me, and I want you to fuck me senseless. Give it to me,” you remarked, not caring to catch your breath anymore.
Your hand traveled to his belt and worked it open without waiting for a response. You unzipped his pants, and then looked back up at him.
“Take these off. And your shirt,” you ordered him bluntly. His cock throbbed ravenously at your dominance.
“Yes. O-okay,” he said as he gently slid from beneath you and followed your orders, throwing his clothes right on top of yours.
You licked your lips at the art in front of you, his beauty something you swore was inhuman.
You lips met his hungrily as you carefully laid back on the couch, mimicking your earlier position. You pulled him between your parted legs and flush against your chest, gently rocking back and forth with his heavy length going between your clit and stomach. You felt his precum dribble right above your pelvis as he let out a broken whine. You broke away from the kiss.
“I need you inside Michael,” you said, dangerously close to begging him.
He sat up and grabbed your face between his large palms, his eyes giving you a serious look.
“I love you so much, my pretty girl. You tell me if it hurts or if you get uncomfortable or wanna stop, okay? And tell me when it feels good, please,” he asked you passionately.
“I will,” you declared, your heart softening at the depth behind his words.
He positioned his leaking length between your folds and grazed his tip against your clit, teasing himself in the process. You bucked your hips up with a huff. Michael grabbed you by them, leaned forward to kiss you, and pushed himself in at the same time.
You both moaned against each other’s mouths, and Michael stopped halfway, resting his forehead against yours. The tightness of your pussy was dangerous. The length and girth of his dick was too.
He was fucking huge. His dick was splitting you open hungrily and you were clenching around him like you craved it all.
“Holy shit, you’re huge. Oh my, fuck. Put it all in,” you demanded and you pulled him forward needily.
You’d never felt so filled in your life. You could see him in your cervix, feel him in your veins, and even taste him on your tongue.
Michael was also absolutely losing it. He never knew sex could feel this good. You guys hadn’t even started properly making love yet, but he felt incredible. Your walls were basically choking his dick. Each clench you gave him was like a vice. His instincts took over and he started thrusting into you hungrily.
The sounds that left your mouth were downright sinful. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were faking your moans. They sounded like cascades of love, and very pornographic.
“Michael, oh my god. Yes!” He found your g-spot. “Right there! Fuck me harder!” you exclaimed. Then, you remembered something. “Ch-choke me. Baby- shit. Choke me Michael.”
“Yes ma- ahh- hmm. Yes, baby.” He was fucking you senseless. He watched as your eyes rolled back and your tongue lolled out of your bruised, plump lips and he went deeper and gripped your neck. You were losing yourself in the pleasure he was giving you, and that’s exactly what he wanted.
“B-baby. Look at me please. Wanna see you,” he said desperately, craving the approval from your eyes. He moved your head by your neck to look at him, and your eyes traveled back his face. Your gummy walls clenched around his engulfing dick at the sight of him. He was fully crying, the tip of his nose turning red.
“Oh, Michael. You’re heavenly,” you praised him causing him to shyly duck his head. You thrusted your hand up and forced his face up by his cheeks, squeezing them ferociously.
“I wanna see your expressions too, angel face. L-look how good you’re fucking me.” You pulled his face down to look at where the two of you became one, and directed his face back to yours, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss.
You were losing yourself in the feeling of it all, already being so overstimulated from earlier, and you felt your third orgasm of the night approach you. You tried pushing away for a second to warn him, but Michael’s lips chased yours instantly. He was completely gone.
You opted for using your free hand to reach down and circle your abused clit to take you over the edge. The doubled friction was so good, it only took a few harsh rubs, and you were gone.
As you came, your body went completely limp under his, your legs flattened on the coach cushions and your hand dropped from his now sore cheeks.
He kept going, even as you came down. This man was completely lost inside of you, and he was moving in a way that suggested he didn’t wanna be found.
“Mikeyyy,” you moaned out at him, the sensitivity numbing your brain too much to finish your thought.
He didn’t listen to your protest, or couldn’t. He just wanted you to keep feeling good, and the way you continuously sucked him in showed him you were still enjoying it. He felt so good, but he didn’t want to let go. He displayed his strongest act of willpower, edging himself over and over with each one of your orgasms. He almost came when he fingered you, when ate you out, hell, even when you told him to take his clothes off.
He slowed down a bit, learning every ridge inside of you and committing it to memory. He savored the slower pace as well, burying himself to the hilt and holding his dick deep in you after each stroke.
You could practically taste heaven on your tongue.
His curly hair was stuck to his forehead and he was giving you the biggest puppy-dog eyes you’d ever seen on a human.
You could feel yet another orgasm coming, this one coming in like a thunderclap before lightning; you could sense it with enough time before it happened to warn him.
“Mik-ey. G’na cum again.” You turned your head and kissed the inside of his wrist next to you.
“Please. Please cum again, pretty. I wanna feel it again,” he pleaded. He leaned down closer to you, his whimpers falling into your ears while he thrust harder and harder, drinking up the bliss painted on your face.
You came around him with a heartbreaking whine, your bottom lip jutting into a full on pout and your chest heaving with sobs. You’ve never felt so good in your life.
He slowed down a bit more, albeit not coming to a full stop, and wiped your tears with one hand.
“P-please one more, doll. Please. I’ll cum with you this time. Jus’ need one more. Need you to cum on- ngh- on me again.
At the realization that yes, he hadn’t cum at all, your pussy throbbed at his act of service. He was physically holding himself back just to ruin you like you told him to. He was such a good listener.
“Oh, my sweet boy,” you cooed at him reaching up to grip your fingers into his hair. “Take another one from m-me. I can handle it,” you stated, determination creeping into your voice.
He let out a beautifully tragic whimper at your demand, and picked up his pace. He lifted himself up and propped one of your legs onto his shoulder, determined to get you there as soon as possible.
It was like a new hunger bubbled up inside of you. Your body was still aching with sensitivity, but it was as if you still hadn’t been touched. The aggression in his moves had you seeing God.
“I wanna get on top,” you let out before you could even think. Your lips were moving faster than your brain had time to filter your thoughts.
“God damn,” he responded at your declaration. He flipped your bodies over expertly and held your waist in anticipation. You looked him in the eyes and placed your hand into his neck to steady yourself.
He let out a choked moan at the contact looking up at you in shock.
“Can you squeeze my neck, please? Please choke me,” he begged, his mouth parted desperately.
You gave it a rough squeeze and you took his ginormous dick inside of you. The dual pleasure was pushing him to the edge. He rolled his eyes back and smiled like he was on psychedelics, the lack of air making everything feel like ecstasy.
You released his neck slightly, giving him room to breathe, as you started bouncing up and down, your tits bobbing seductively above his face as you did so. You dragged your free hand up to your tits, holding them under your arm to stop the harsh drag of them. That only made it worse for him. The roundness of them became more prominent with the strain of your arm.
You looked back down at him with your eyebrows knitted and your eyes lowered with lust. You reached back down and kissed him intimately, squeezing his neck tightly and opening your eyes to take in his expression. He looked like lust personified. Then, you felt it coming and you broke the kiss. You removed your hand from his neck and lightly smacked his cheek, signaling him to look at you.
“G’na cream that big dick of yours M-Mikey. You gotta cum with me. ‘M so…I’m g…I- FUCK!”
This orgasm tore through you like a tsunami, crashing over and over in brutal waves.
Michael came as soon as the first clench came from your pussy. He cried out the prettiest moan you’d ever heard, the sound rivaling his singing vocals.
“Please, please, please, thank you. Y-yes! GOD, oh, thank you, I love you,” was all he could say between sobs.
You collapsed on top of him and caught your breath, letting his dick soften up inside you. After a moment, you pulled him out of you and felt both of your releases spill onto the couch. Michael could feel some of it slide down his own dick and he whined at the feeling. He was that sensitive.
“My god Michael, you’re insane,” you said, breaking the silence.
He let out a breathy laugh.
“Only for you,” he responded, looking at you with lazy eyes.
“Yeah, you better,” you said only half joking, your hand coming up to his face to squeeze his cheeks together again.
The two of you got up and stretched, joints aching with the activities of the night.
“Let me run us a bath, pretty girl. I’ll be right back,” Michael stated, still so eager to service you. He gave you a kiss, took your scattered clothes, and disappeared into your room’s shared bathroom, turning on the faucet of the huge bathtub and pouring in bubble soap and bath salts. He dimmed the lights and turned on the mini radio that sat atop the spacious counter, humming along to the jazzy instrumental crackling from its speakers. He left the bathroom, leaving the bath to run, and walked into your shared walk-in closet.
He picked out simple pajamas for the two of you. He got a plain white tee and tartan pajama pants for himself, and a pair of boyshorts and one of his comically oversized graphic tees for you, knowing you liked wearing it as a nightgown sometimes. He smiled to himself as he folded the clothing and placed them on top of the bed, awaiting your arrival.
You’d walked into the room shortly after, having tidied up the living room and cleaning up the cum from the couch. Your legs were aching from the sex and walking up the steps. You opened the door with a creak, legs almost giving out.
He turned around to face you, having just completed his task of putting both of your soiled clothes in your shared laundry basket. He grabbed your hand as he went to turn off the faucet in the bathtub, followed by sounds of you complaining. He didn’t want to walk away from you while you just came in, but your legs felt like you were moving in quicksand. He dipped his hand inside, testing the water and motioned for you to check for yourself. You gave him a thumbs up.
“You actually ruined me, Mike,” you complained dramatically as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
“That’s exactly what you asked me to do. Multiple times, at that! Can’t go back on your word now, silly girl.” He chuckled softly and booped your nose before stepping into tub, grabbing onto your hand to help you in like a gentleman.
“I’m not, I just wasn’t expecting…all that. It was like you were a different person. Very sexy of you, by the way.” You settled in front of him and he grabbed your loofah, doused it with soap, and started washing your back for you like it was something he was used to. He scrubbed you like you were the most delicate thing in the universe.
“I dunno what came over me either, honestly. I really was jus’ cravin’ you that much. I didn’t even know needin’ you more than I usually do was possible.” He paused, his usual shyness creeping back in. “And, uh, you were very sexy as well. Better than I ever imagined you’d be,” he tacked on, flustered.
“Thank you, angel.” You leaned your head back and gave him an upside-down kiss on the lips, feeling a shy smile creep into his lips. You picked your head back up and twisted your upper body around to face him.
“Aww, my baby,” you cooed at him.
“Y’know that nickname makes me shy,” he says, referring to ‘angel’ and all variations of it. He lifted your arms and scrubbed your sides and your stomach, traveling his way to your breasts as you responded.
“How can I not when you have such an angel face? You’re so precious, c’mon,” you fake pouted at him. Sweet vanilla and warm cinnamon filled your nostrils. Your favorite body wash. “See? You even act like an angel. You replaced my favorite body soap for me ‘cause it ran out.”
“That’s nothin’. I’d buy you a castle-” he paused, seeing the incredulous look on your face, realizing he was somehow helping your point. “Okay, okay whatever. You’re the one sent from heaven, though. Here, gimmie your leg ‘n hold onto my shoulder.”
Your face warmed up at the sincerity in his tone and the gentleness he used with you. As he continued his work, you watched him, filled with gratitude. He was so happy taking care of you like this, and you wondered how such a sweet person could truly exist.
As he finished you up he started washing himself up as you watched in adoration. You took his loofah and scooted to switch sides with him, washing his back as he did yours. He hummed along to the instrumental from the little radio, sounding identical to the saxophone singing from it. So beautiful.
The two of you dried your feet on the plush carpet beside the tub and stepped into the shower directly next to it to wash your hair and rinse off.
He washed his own hair as you rinsed off and cleaned your legs once more, both of you clingily standing under the huge showerhead that was big enough for more space between the two of you. You were just craving each other more than usual after crossing that final line.
You stood behind him as he wrung his hair, in no rush to free your eyes from the sight of his sleek, yet toned back in front of you. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of his shoulder and ran your hands up and down his waist once. Lurching forward, you grabbed your shampoo, and Michael took it from you unexpectedly.
“Wet your hair for me?” he asked, squeezing a glob into his hand and lathering it up.
You did just that and he turned you away from him, massaging the shampoo into your scalp as he combed your hair simultaneously. The domestic action made you want to drop to your knee and propose to him right there.
You reached your hand back and rubbed it up and down his arm in a silent ‘thank you’, too content to break the silence.
He grabbed it and gave it a romantic peck, rinsing the shampoo off and gently placing it back to your side. After he finishing working in and rinsing the conditioner, he stepped out of the steamy shower, leaving the water running for you. He grabbed your towel and beckoned you out, wanting to make sure you stayed warm the whole time.
He stepped back in and turned off the faucet and you wrapped yourself up, and then unraveled your towel and dried you off. He patted your hair dry and wrapped it up, as you made your way to the sink counter to get your blow dryer. You turned it on its second coolest setting and blew the water out of your hair, not focus on getting it to look a certain way.
He drained the tub, rinsed it out, and then dried off as you finished with your hair. He handed you your bathrobe.
“Here sit down,” he motioned to the plush ottoman sitting in there for whenever you moisturized your body. He grabbed your lotion and kneeled down, lathering it into your neck and shoulders, then down the front and back of your torso, lifted you up so he could get your ass, rubbed into your thighs and legs, and finally massaged your feet.
“Baby, you don’t have to do all this,” you protested, feeling bad that he was spending more time on your showing process than his own.
“I want to. I told you, I wanted our first time together to be perfect. That includes aftercare, baby. Besides, this is bare minimum.” He scoffed at your protest, offended. He placed your foot down and looked up at you, eyebrow raised.
You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
He lotioned himself with his own scent with super speed, and out in his own bathrobe, then reached for the blow dryer. While he dried his own hair, you washed your face and moisturized it, letting the cool products seep into your skin. You picked up both of your towels and put them into your bathroom hamper as he quickly washed his own face. You slinked out of your bathrobe, hanging it up on the rack, and he followed behind you, turning off the light and closing the door behind him.
You saw the clothes folded up on the foot of the bed and smiled at him lovingly.
“You are so cute, did y’know that?” you asked him as you took in the setup before you.
“Enough of that,” Michael said, feigning annoyance. He was really just flustered. “Here, step in.” You pulled your boyshorts up your legs and over your naked sex and bottom. He ignored the way they fit on you and then stood up and pulled his t-shirt over your head. He hurried into his clothes and lifted the blanket on your side of the bed, leaned you into it.
“Gonna turn off the light,” he said as he ran to the wall and back to the bed, not really giving you time to notice he was leaving.
As the mattress slightly does on his side, you reached out for him and laid your head onto his chest, smelling the scent of your body wash and his own lotion on him. You softly sighed.
“Thank you for being so good to me,” you said tiredly.
“No, thank you. I’m so happy I made you my girl, ‘n I’m so grateful I got to express my love for you physically today.” He gave you a kiss on your forehead and pressed your body closer to his. “Can I have a kiss?” he asked you shyly.
“You don’t have to ask, y’know,” you said with a chuckle as your lips met his. You deepened it slightly, suddenly getting another flood of arousal at the feel of his body through his thin clothing. He did too, and you could feel it.
“I’m for sure too tired for a round three of a sixth orgasm, but we can try something,” you mused.
“Yeah, ‘n what’s that?” he asked with a smirk.
You pulled down his pants just enough to free his hardened sex, and pulled your own undies to the side. You gave him one more kiss and turned around, pushing it into you with a soft whine leaving both of your lips.
The stretch did just enough, as did your tightness around him. He slightly throb inside of you, the feeling of your cunt around him acting as a sensual hug. He adjusted just slightly, subconsciously aching for the friction he felt earlier. You both lazily met the other’s slow grinds, too tired to chase release, but still desperate for just a little bit more. It felt magical and poetic. You eventually stopped moving, too tired to take anything more from each other.
“Goodnight, my darling girl. Thank you for accepting the raw, unfiltered version of me. I’ve never been this vulnerable with anyone, n’ I’m so grateful that it was with you. I can’t wait to learn you more. I love you so very much,” he declared.
“I love you too, baby,” you said, exhaustion lacing your voice. “You’re perfect, all of you. Thank you for being comfortable for sharing it all with me. ‘N thank you for wanting to meant me. You make me feel so appreciated and adored. Sleep well, my love.”
You both felt eternally close to each other now, physically and emotionally. The activities of today blanketed your figures in a heavy gratefulness.
He pulled you back, wanting to be even closer to you somehow, and pressed kisses up and down your neck and the side of your face. He hummed a soft tune and stroked your hair softly as the two of you drifted off to sleep.
We spend so much time anxiously wondering why what we want isn't showing up yet. But the truth is that manifestation is instantaneous by nature. The moment a desire takes shape in your mind,in the 4D, it is already done. It is already complete. In that realm, there is no such thing as time or waiting because everything you imagine is already real and existing in its perfect state.
The delay we feel in the physical world is not some technical requirement for things to happen. It is just a reflection of our own assumption that time is a real thing. Every time we think that a desire needs to travel to us or that we have to go through a waiting process, we are just confirming to ourselves that we do not have it yet. And the 3D world has no will of its own. It is just a mirror. If you assume you have to wait, it will give you exactly that, a delay that you have turned into a law.
It is not that creation is slow. It is that we keep projecting the idea that it has to be slow. The real hurdle is this need to constantly check the 3D to see if it has arrived yet. That habit alone betrays your trust because it implies you still see your desire as something far away.
When you stop treating the 3D like a scoreboard, you take down the wall you have built yourself. Living from the assumption that it is already yours means acting, thinking, and feeling as if it is already here, which makes searching for proof completely unnecessary. It is never about when it is going to arrive. It is about how willing you are to stay anchored in the assumption that it is already here. Once you stop focusing on the lack and start living in the fulfillment, the search ends and you just step into it.
You mean to tell me some of y’all see these photos and think mature era mike was a mean dommy daddy…? Because idk y’all...This looks like a man who would literally tear up and beg you to just let him watch you SHOWER.
manifestation is instant because time doesn’t exist
the true explanation of the common term thrown around in the loa community
if you find yourself saying “but how does time not exist?” or “why don’t i have my desires?” then this post is for you
i believe almost everyone here has been confused by the common term “time does not exist”, or “manifestation is instant”. if it was instant, why didn’t i have my desires already?
time does not exist because there is no past or future. it is what you are aligning yourself with that you are experiencing.
let me go further in depth: when you are “remembering” the past, you are visualizing a moment that you associate in the past, and label it a “memory”. it is scientifically proven each time we remember something further from the present, we never remember it entirely accurate. we may add or miss details that may or may not have ever happened.
when you think about the future, you are visualizing something that has not happened yet. let’s say you have a concert tomorrow. you feel excited, you envision yourself walking or taking the bus/train to your designated area. you imagine how the music will sound, or maybe potential interactions you will have with your friends or the people around you. most importantly, you are happy in this moment, one that has not happened.
the key thing that happens with both remembering the past and envisioning the future, is that it stems from imagination. you are imagining a moment and deciding that this is what happened, or what will happen. and what is the #1 thing talked about in law of assumption? how our imagination dictates our life.
by now, i’m sure you’ve gotten my point. if not, I’ll simplify it: time does not exist, because we merely visualize a moment and label it a memory of the past, or an expectation of the future. we deem this to be true, and it is reflected into our 3D. this means that the only thing that truly exists, is now. it is the present.
so we know only the present is real, then how do we tie this back to how manifestation is instant?
if the only moment happening is the present, the moment we say “i have my desire”, it is done. we do not visualize this happening in a day, or a week, but now, because that is the only moment in time that we truly live in.
we don’t focus in what “time” has passed, because again, it does not exist. there is no delay. instead, it is an identity shift that we go through; it is the shift from aligning your inner man from being someone who identifies with the old story, into your dream self. the manifestation itself does not take time to materialize. the only reason you are still in the old story, is because you are further identifying your 3D with a moment you visualize and assign with a past memory.
your undesired past does not exist if you don’t want it to. a future filled with anxiety and fear does not exist if you don’t want it either. it always starts with the mind, and what you are imagining yourself in.
so yes, manifestation is instant. you already have everything you want!!
theodore spencer is known for many things. well, depending on who you ask at least. some would say the mayor’s delinquent son, all snark and trouble with nothing good to show for it.
others might be a little nicer, simply referring to him as number five: the hotheaded captain of your university’s hockey team. an insanely talented defenseman whose led them through several winning seasons, and never finishes a game without battering something—or more likely someone—in his path.
what never occurred to you, though, was that beneath the cockiness, the iron fists, and the layers of gear he wears like impenetrable armor, there was actually something of substance at his core. a heart.
because if you hadn’t been so eager to get out of training early that afternoon, you might have never discovered that it’s teddy who’s responsible for all of the beautifully crafted, anonymous handwritten letters being tucked into the sliver of space between your car window.
dividers by @cursed-carmine
𑣲a/n lmk if you’d like to be tagged! can’t wait for yall to readdd 🤭 we finna get into some thangs. ciao for now! <3
pairing ⁀➷ bully! cameron cade x plus-size! black reader.
synopsis ⁀➷ cameron has teased you for years on end, but suddenly wants your help with schoolwork. you oblige, but soon find out his hatred for you is not as it seems.
song of chapter ⁀➷ ‘wish you well’ by brent faiyaz (unreleased)
word count + warnings ⁀➷ 3.9k || 18+, nsfw content, no minors! bully!cam, nerd reader, jealous! cam, teasing, nitpicking, mentions of masturbation, one-sided crush, soft fem domme reader, body appreciation, slapping (cameron likes it🤭), jerking off.
‘darling, i don’t wish you well. when you ain’t with me, i want you crying.’
ᥫ᭡
bully! cameron, who seemed to despise your entire existence.
you couldn’t quite figure it out, but each shoulder check, mocking laugh and condescending comment, let you know he for sure hated your guts. you only shared one class with the highly esteemed quarterback, but ran into him on a constant basis in the college hallways.
it was like cameron’s unpaid job was to put you down. pointing out any little mistake you might make—from tripping on your on two feet to dropping your books on the school's floor, cameron is there to let you know how pathetic you really were.
can’t see where you’re going? you’d think with glasses that fucking thick, you’d be able to see miles away.
you ignored him each time, continuing on with homework assignments for your next class without a word. this thing between you two had gone on since your days of high school—you couldn’t understand it. you would’ve thought after years of teasing, he’d grow tired and find someone else to pick with, but cameron’s attention remained lasered on you.
it’s your bully cameron who asks for a request from you. you’re face deep in a cell biology book when he approaches you in the reserved study room. you often found yourself in the library long after school hours, catching up on school work and spending spare time here instead of parties or social functions. you only had one best friend and didn’t do well in large gatherings. school, family, and home were your main priorities.
when cameron sits across from you at the table, you immediately note the expression on his face. he looks serious. more serious than you’ve ever seen him before. he usually held this demeanor during practice or before a big game. while part of you is annoyed, the other half is intrigued. what did he want?
cameron is the one to ask if you could tutor him throughout the week. he’d heard from classmates about the essays and homework you contributed to. you were a fucking genius and able to help almost everyone get their grades up to at least a ‘c’ average. he desperately needed to get his grades together, or he would risk being kicked off the schools football team.
you’re unsure. this was the same guy who made fun of your glasses at any chance, picked on your height and joked about your smarts. he now wanted your help?
“absolutely not.” you’re firm on your stance.
that is until—
“i’ll pay you good. whatever price you want.”
a day turned into weeks and your sessions with cameron continued. the two of you worked on a multitude of subjects. anything cameron needed help with, you were willing to provide. he made sure to pay on time before each session, and you made sure to help him receive the best grades possible. you couldn’t quite put your finger on cameron cade. he was interesting, but he remained quiet—a complete difference from the way he behaved when his friends were around. he worked, listened to what you asked of him and went back to home as usual.
at least that’s what you believed.
unbeknownst to you, cameron cade didn’t always go directly home after every study session.
it didn’t start like this initially.
cameron truly found you annoying.
your perfect hair, starched clothing and positive energy pissed him off. why were you so chipper at 9 in the goddamn morning? why did you know the answer to every question the professor asked? why did seeing your face make him so fucking angry?
he couldn’t understand it.
the one thing cameron was able to manage was his actions towards you. berating and calling out everything you did to was easier than sitting with his true feelings.
the feelings that hit cameron late at night when it was only him and his thoughts in the comfort of his bedroom. not a sound or soul around—just the whir of a nearby fan blowing throughout the room and the ache of his dick trapped behind boxer briefs.
those same thoughts made his vision blur as he imagined your frame underneath the stockings and pleated skirts you wore. he’d think of how you’d look on top of him. would you take your time and ride him slow—or be just as desperate as he’d been and ride him as wildly as you could?
it was the same thoughts that made cameron growl into the air as he came hotly—sticky white substance dripping over his chest and hand, before he washed up to imagine it all over again. maybe a different fantasy this time—one of you, and he crammed in the back seat of his car. he wouldn’t mind, cameron would find a way to make space for you.
cameron’s maladaptive daydream is interrupted as there’s a sound right outside his bedroom window. cameron lived at home with his parents as it was easier to attend school and save money at the same time. he remained in his childhood bedroom and often gazed out the window to look down on the neighbors and their current shenanigans, but it’s during this that he notices a familiar face and shape.
it’s you…
it’s you and cameron’s next door neighbor.
his neighbor lived at home with his parents, just like cameron. he also played football for the school’s rival team, so cameron has no clue as to why you’re meeting with him. he’s obviously an enemy, but you’re downstairs being best friends with him.
cameron watches as the young man hugs you goodbye and proceeds to walk to your car. you smile stupidly in his face before starting your car to drive off into the night, leaving cameron as confused as ever.
“what the fuck?”
cameron lets the time pass. he writes the interaction with you and his neighbor off as a tutoring session, believing that you wouldn’t be in any kind of relationship with someone like him. it helped put his mind at ease for just a bit.
that is, until he encounters the two of you once again.
you both were exiting a local restaurant just as cameron was crossing the street. it’s late at night and cameron is supposed to be walking the family dog, but finds himself eavesdropping on the conversation you two hold. back pressed to the brick wall of a nearby building, cameron listens carefully as you bust into genuine laughter at his neighbor’s joke.
“no, but seriously, y/n, you’re fucking amazing and i really appreciate you.”
“oh, it’s nothing,” he hears you giggle and you never giggled while you were with him. the sound of your beautiful laugh makes his chest tighten. he wished he’d been the reason for your joy. “i can’t wait to see you again. have a good night, babe.”
babe?
the pet name enrages cameron. he holds enough irritation to knock down this entire brick wall, race over, snatch you up and knock that loser the fuck out.
but cameron does nothing.
you weren’t his. he had no rights to you, no rights to behave this way towards you.
days later, cameron’s phone vibrates in his pants pocket.
it’s a text message from you.
hey, i’m sorry to cancel on you, but i won’t be able to make it today. maybe we can meetup sometime next week?
cameron’s eyes lowered as he read over the message once again. he took a deep inhale and clicked on the power button to his phone.
you and he met in the city’s library for tutoring lessons every wednesday and friday without fail. for weeks, cameron spritzed cologne over his neck and wrists, applied oil to his short hair and made sure to keep a tube of mint scented chapstick in his bookbag for…educational purposes. he absolutely looked forward to sessions with you. whether they be one-sided with only your voice speaking throughout the library or silent altogether—wednesday’s and friday’s were his favorite days of the week.
yet, you cancelled.
cameron couldn’t understand it.
are you sure? we can probably meet sometime later tonight, i really don’t to fail this upcoming exam.
cameron paces his room as he awaits a response from you, hoping his excuse doesn’t sound too desperate.
you won’t fail. we can meet up next week.
you wouldn’t budge, and cameron can’t come up with another reason.
“fuck,” he huffs, tossing his phone onto the bed. cameron takes only a second to collect his thoughts before racing to change out of his current outfit and into looser attire.
he needed to blow off some steam.
a two-hour workout session helped to clear cameron’s mind just a little, but not nearly enough. a few bench presses, a jog on the treadmill and a boxing session with a punching bag—yet he kept thinking of you and the message you’d sent earlier. part of him wanted to let you know how he felt—to tell you the resentment he held towards you was misplaced and that he didn’t know how to regulate emotions regarding you. the other half wished you could read his mind and know exactly what he wanted.
cameron passes the school’s library as he leaves the gym. had it been any other day, cameron would’ve went home as usual, but the cancellation of today’s session was getting to him. he couldn’t fucking think straight. he stopped inside and decided to take a seat at the table you and he usually sat in. cameron sorted through his bookbag and fetched textbooks for tomorrows exam, eyes darting over the words as he tried to comprehend the reading material.
you would’ve helped him to understand it.
your calm voice reading over the text before asking what did he think about it. you would’ve cracked open a notebook and wrote down important information with your black ball point pen. you would’ve taken your time and used real-world situations to compare with the homework, helping him learn everything he can before a big test.
you’re all cameron can think about.
so much so that he swears he can hear you.
it’s the same laugh he’d heard for the first time the other day, and cameron is positive he’s completely lost his mind until he sees you and his neighbor emerge from a study room. cameron hides behind the large textbook to avoid his cover being blown. he listens closely and peers from behind the spine of the book as you hug and peck the cheek of his neighbor.
cameron can only sit for so long—waiting until his neighbor has left the library to follow behind as you slip into the basement area of the building.
you don’t hear or see him—cameron makes sure to keep quiet as he tiptoes behind you, searching for words to perfectly convey his thoughts.
“what the fuck are you doing, y/n?”
there’s aggravation in his tone, and the sound of his tenor causes you to flinch—not jump, but simply raise your shoulders in surprise. you turn on the toes of your leather loafers, eyes widened in surprise at cameron cade’s presence.
“are you following me?”
cameron ignores your question. “answer me, y/n.”
“i’m minding my business, cameron, that’s what i’m doing. now answer my question, are you following me?”
cameron pushes past you to walk further into the dusty basement, brushing towards a nearby book case before he speaks. “why are you dragging this nigga all over town? smiling in his fucking face, hugging him and shit.”
“because i can, cameron. why does any of this matter to you? why are you watching my every fucking move.”
“you and that stupid motherfucker are flaunting around town, i can’t help but to see it.”
he expects you to make a run for it—for you to angrily march up the stairs and never talk to him again, but you instead hold a conversation with pinched brows on your gorgeous face. he can’t help the way his stomach whirls when he’s able to see you fully. the basement of this dusty library is dimly lit, just a flicking light bulb that sways back and forth in the corner of the room, but it helps cameron to see you.
you looked beautiful as usual, but a bit more laid back tonight. boho braids flowing around your shoulders—free from the tight bun you often wore, a small hue of blush upon your round cheeks and no glasses on your pretty face.
you weren’t wearing your glasses.
he only takes a second. brief and steady as he glances over you. “where are your glasses?”
“huh?” you squint and it’s not because you weren’t wearing said glasses. usual black frames are not on your face because you were looking for a change in appearance, at least for tonight.
“you heard me. where are your glasses, y/n?”
you’re surprised cameron picked up on it, but cameron forgot absolutely nothing when it came to you. he’s like a wolf hunting prey. he can’t miss the curls strewn through your hair, the neat pressing of your outfit or the heady scent of the perfume you’re wearing.
“and you’re wearing fucking perfume…you-you put that on for him, didn’t you?”
“who?”
“who? you tell me, y/n, who is the nigga to you?”
you’d never seen him like this. so hostile and on edge over you, but it’s at this moment that reality sets and you remember who you’re dealing with. you don’t owe him anything. not an explanation or even an excuse. you push forward and wiggle out of cameron’s intimidating stance.
“it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t matter what i do, or who i do it with, cameron. you aren’t my boyfriend, so it’s none of your business, and i think it’s best that you leave.”
you walk towards the entrance and hold the heavy door open, waiting for cameron cade to exit onto the other side of it, but he just stands in place. icy eyes peer back at you and they’re unforgiving. the only thing that diverts cameron’s attention is the sound of a notification of your phone as it pings from your book bag.
shit.
it’s a short race between you and cameron as you both rush over to grab the device. you should’ve knew better. a 6-foot behemoth was easily going to overpower you. the most athletic thing you conquered was a brisk walk up a flight of stairs to enter your favorite coffee shop.
“give me my phone, cameron!” he holds a hand outward to block the catty hits you give in attempt to get your phone back.
cameron forgets his place.
the idea of someone else having access to you made him go crazy. cameron could almost handle the thought of him not being with you, but someone else getting the pleasure of being near you was enough to drive him through a wall.
“i don’t recall this being any of your fucking business, cameron. why does it matter what i’m doing?!”
“because you’re fucking hugging and kissing him after canceling a tutoring lesson with me.”
“i was helping him study cameron—there! does that make you feel any fucking better?”
“fuck no! you’re getting fucking dressed up for him, but bailing out on me, i’m fucking pissed.” you can sense the genuine anger surging through cameron as he speaks. his usually light irises darken as they pierce into you.
“i’m sorry, cameron.”
but it’s not enough.
“nah, i need to talk to that motherfucka, i need to know something.”
“you’re going to talk to him for what, cameron? i’m confused as to how this is any of your concern. you hate me, so why are you so worried?”
you and cameron begin to tussle. he’s attempting to push past you, searching all throughout your book bag for the vibrating cell phone. you’re holding him by the arm to stay in place, but cameron’s strong—tall, big—any of the words you could think of, so you have little to no fight at this moment, being easily brushed to the side as he moves about.
it’s a last-minute effort, but the heavy smack you send to his left cheek stops him in his tracks. the inside of your palm rings, while a stinging red mark forms on the side of cameron’s face. you’re about to say something—an apology of sorts when cameron forces you to pause. he releases the tiniest surprised moan—low and trapped in the back of his throat, as you watch his dick twitch behind the confines of his shorts.
cameron is silent. pleading eyes wandering over you as he tries to understand why do you turn him on like this? your book bag and the contents inside fall to the ground once cameron drops it.
“you like that? y-you like me smacking you around?” you’re taken aback by his reaction.
cameron remains quiet, but his dick answers whatever questions you have. you can practically feel the heat radiating from it, as he grows harder, continuing to flinch around underneath his clothes.
“answer me, cameron.”
it’s like chewing glass, and cameron can’t swallow the broken pieces down fast enough to speak. he’d kept these feelings locked away for years. years of longing, aching and needing to be near you vanished into thin air from a harsh slap you’d given him. cameron can’t believe the magic you hold.
“answer me, cam,” you’re on the tips of your leather shoes, lush lips skimming across his neck as you speak. you await an answer, but only draw out another shaky moan from him. “tell me, cameron and i can help you feel better. i gotta hear you say it.”
he gulps sharply, forcing his eyelids closed as he tries to regulate. “f—fuck, fuck, yes, yes.”
you began to soften up some. smugness to your voice when you question him, finding delight in the sorrowful position you have him in.
“can i see it, cameron?”
“w-what?” he stutters. “you—you want to see me?”
cameron’s been convinced you were disgusted with his entire presence, hearing your words makes his dick stiffen more. cameron can’t think clearly, but he knows he wants this, knows he wants you to want it as well.
“let me see you, baby.”
you’ve switched—and so quickly at that. cameron’s not sure if you’ve always been like this, but starting as a timid nerd and turning into a sweet voiced domme, shakes him to his core. cameron’s willing, though. he’s happy you were into it like he was.
so cameron obeys.
untying the string to his shorts, cameron starts to fumble with the clothing items until they fall to the ends of his ankles. and the expression on your face cannot be contained—a mix of surprise and satisfaction. you expected a handsome boy like him to have a nice dick—well groomed and beautiful in color, but his length? cameron was a fairly decent size. you would rather not give him too much credit, but his umber tinted dick truly took your breath away.
“you’re big, cameron.”
“yeah?” he’s breathless as he responds.
nodding your head as you continue. “yes and you’re so pretty, you look so good, baby.”
cameron could die happily with the way you’re talking to him, his dick bobs in appreciation from the complimentary words you utter.
“show me what you can do.”
and cameron’s on it immediately, willing to do whatever he can to please you. his large hard drags over his hard dick in a fast motion, jerking along the tightened shaft without regard or concern. his eyes flick back and forth—from you and down to his piece in hand, while you watch.
“you’re rough.”
you giggle a bit as you cross over the room, taking a few steps to get closer to him, as cameron continues to jerk his dick raggedly. he’s too excited—too anxious to reach his nut, that he can hardly contain himself.
“what’s the rush? we got all the time in the world.”
cameron’s looking to you for relief, awaiting whatever you can give him to get off completely. you step beside him and attempt to reach his height from the short distance you stand, clothed breasts brushing the outside of his strong arms as you linger.
the pad of your soft thumb traces over the end of his chiseled jaw, slowly finding your way to
his bottom lip as you grin softly. “open your mouth, cam.”
you only have to ask once because cameron trusts you. he doesn’t know why, but a major part of him knows you’d get him there without a hassle. cameron’s tongue wraps around your thumb without hesitation, moaning in satisfaction at the faint smell of perfume along your skin. his eyes fall closed in satisfaction of the contact.
“drool on that dick, baby, i want you to get it wet for me.”
you pull your hand away from his lips and cameron follows the instructions, opening his mouth wide enough that an elongated string of spit hits the base of his dick without pause. it’s fucking sexy when he does it, hand holding onto a nearby bookshelf as you watch intensely. you try not to moan and only enjoy the show, but it’s almost impossible with a star football player falling apart the simple commands you give.
“do you want me to touch it, cam? want me to make you feel good?”
and it’s more than anything he’s ever wanted in his life. cameron’s skull could rattle with how fast his head shakes. you only give him a little, gentle fingertips twisting at the head of his dick while he shivers in response.
“yes—yeah, please, y/n, please.”
then you think. “but, do you deserve it? have you been good, cameron?”
cameron knows the truth—he’d been acting a fucking fool as of late, but he was here now and he was willing to try, willing to try and be good just for you.
“i can—i can be better, y/n. i can be calmer, nicer—fuck, just touch me please.”
“promise me cameron. promise you’ll be good from here on out. promise you’ll listen to me.”
he nods furiously, “yes, yes, i’ll be good, i’ll be good and i’ll do whatever you want.”
with the lubrication of his spit, you’re easily able to tug on cameron’s big dick, opposite hand finding purchase around his wide neck. you choke him softly, just enough that it takes his breath way and makes him moan at the same time.
“lift your shirt up, i wanna see you, baby, i gotta see you.”
with hardly any focus, cameron scrambles to unzip his jacket and raise his plain t-shirt like you commanded him to. your soft hand grazes the rippled skin of his abs in admiration. his skin is damp from a previous workout and the anxiety of being in your hold and you can smell it on him. the scent of his natural sweaty aroma combined with a woodsy cologne makes your pussy clench around nothing.
you wanted him.
you didn’t mind the idea of cameron bending you over this bookcase and fucking you like nobody’s business, but you knew better—knew you couldn’t give it to him that easily. cameron would have to earn it. you jerking him off was an act of kindness after canceling the tutoring session. anything from this point forward would require some serious effort.
disclaimer: this is based off of my personal experience and what worked for me!
1. stop “trying”
- i was constantly preventing myself from getting the results i wanted because i was trying, instead of just being. law of assumption is all about being, assuming, and deciding. one thing that clicked for me was that my constant listening to subliminals, checking the mirror constantly, finding something new to fix, was just holding me back
- i was able to finally stop “trying” and instead just “be” when i just told myself there was nothing to fix, because i was already going to manifest my desired appearance, it was inevitable. this allowed me to stop the constant checking in the mirror, obsession with subliminals and affirmations, and beauty rituals. it was already done, so theres no reason to try.
2. i acted like the version of me who already had my desired appearance
- i took a second to reflect and think about what the future version of me who already had the appearance that i wanted would do. for example, my current self was counting calories. but in my head, i knew the “ideal” version of me would never do that, she would simply just eat healthy without needing to track it constantly. so thats exactly what i started to do. i imagined this future version of myself would drink coffees and yogurt bowls in the morning. so thats what i started doing.
- another example would be, my current version was mainly wearing baggy shirts and jeans everyday. but when i reflected, i realized that the version of myself that i wanted to be, would never wear that. i knew she would wear more fashionable and feminine pieces. so thats exactly what i started to do.
- did i feel insecure at times, or as if i wasnt “ready” to do these actions yet? sure. but i persisted, and although at times i felt uncomfortable, deep down i knew i was on the right path, like i was actively becoming who i wanted to be. that feeling was very satisfying
3. i persisted
- i didnt try hard, affirm more, or listen to more subliminals. i just persisted in my belief that the appearance i wanted, was already mine. i was already beautiful. it wasnt about convincing myself or forcing myself to “feel” beautiful, but just knowing i already was, and any thought that contradicted that, i just let it pass by. i didnt engage with it at all.
y'all have GOT to stop with the ai fics. put ChatGPT+ down, put Grok down, put microsoft CoPilot down and whatever the hell else!! AI is a learning software, meaning when you plug your writing & creative content (yo lil headcanons and fic ideas) in there, it is STORING IT and then circulating it out to other people who are asking it "give me a fanfic idea." !! It is also REGURGITATING other people's ideas back to YOU.
if it really gets that serious just take a hiatus 😭but baby i'm begging you to get off that stuff PLEASE
