Summary - you and your boyfriend michael went to an event and things got heated.
Pairing - michael jackson x black!fem!plus-sized!reader
Warnings - Fingering, spitting, slapping, choking, oral (f receiving), no usage of y/n, a bit of hair pulling, and public sex?
Notes - This is my writing in YEARS 😭😭 so please leave any recs or ideas you want to see me write in the future !! ALSO I DIDN’T PROOFREAD THIS sorry for any mistakes lollll. anddd this was a late night thought
The show was beginning soon, but of course you and Michael love to arrive fashionable late and speak to everyone. After about 15 minutes, everyone settled down into their seats and the show began. The host began introducing himself.
30 minutes later, Michael finally got called up to collect his award. After giving his speech, you stood up and clapped loudly and gave him a big hug as he was coming back to his seat. “Congratulations, honey !!” he smiled softly. “Thank you my baby.”
The after party began and everyone was drunk and high. You and Michael went your separate ways to talk to your friends. You were talking to Latoya until a man walked up to you and started a conversation with you. You could feel Michael's eyes burning the biggest hole in your face.
Michael walks over and gently grabs your elbow. “Hey, sweetie, can I speak to you for a quick sec?” you knew he wasn’t asking he was telling You
“Michael I,“, before you could finish exposing yourself, he walks to the ladies' restroom and locking the door behind him.
You knew Michael was annoyed but no one else could. That’s what you loved about your relationship with him. His eyes are low and dark. Never have you seen him like this.
“What was that?” you turned your head, looking into the mirror, catching Michael’s beautiful side profile. He grabbed his chin. “No, no, look at me and explain yourself.”
“Well, I really don’t know,“ He interrupts by grabbing your neck and kissing you softly, slowly tightening his hand around your neck he pulls away from the kiss and whispers softly in your ear “You don’t know? What did I tell you about speaking to other guys?” His hand slides down your back to your round ass and gives it a big squeeze. “Hm? Can’t talk baby? Come on open those pretty soft lips. Open.” You open your mouth slightly. “Why are you being shy, like you're not always a slut to me? Open wider.”
You opened your mouth wider, letting his spit slide onto your tongue and down your throat. “I didn’t even need to tell you to swallow. Good girl.” He roughly pulled up your dress and pulled your thong to the side. “You’re going to watch me eat your pretty pussy okay?” you nod as he slowly slides down to knees looking up at you as he slowly sucks on your clit and gripping your thick thighs “MY baby tastes so fucking good no one else is allowed to know how u taste.” you couldn’t do anything but answer with whimpers as u gripped the bathroom sink. Michael was making small circle on your clit as you felt two fingers slide into you. “Oh my god much-“ you gripped onto his hair throwing your head back as his fingers went faster hitting every spot.
He abruptly stopped and stood up causing him to whimper loudly. “shush baby, I’m here. I've got you. It felt so good, didn’t it?” You nodded “words baby. “Yes, Michael, it felt so good.” He raised his hand and slapped me, gripping my jaw? “what did I tell you about calling me that I’m your daddy.?" Turn around facing the mirror.” he unbuckled his pants pulling out his girth brown dick and forcing it inside of me. “Daddy!!” he kissed your neck looking at you in the mirror losing yourself just from the tip “baby…relax it only the tip you should be used to my dick.” he giggles softly.
Michael pulled my hair, forcing me to look at him in the mirror, pushing his dick all the way inside my pussy “Daddy!!” “Shushhh take it.” he starts thrusting harder and faster while grabbing my boob while biting his lip. “You’re so fucking tight I might cum early baby.” his hand finds your clit and starts rubbing faster “look at me while you cum.” the faster he rubbed, the quicker your chest fell up and down he kissed your neck “daddy im going to cum!!” he sucked on your neck marking you and pulling your hair harder “cum for me baby and only me.” as soon as he said that you release all juices onto his dick and floor.
He slowly pulled out, letting you come down from your orgasm. “You okay my baby?” You nodded your mind all mushy. Michael fixed you back up as best as he could. “Good?” “I think so” you both giggles “I think we should leave and have round 2 at home or…my limo.” he kissed you on the cheek as you giggled and you both made your way to the exit barely saying your goodbyes to everyone.
THE END !!
Hopefully this was good enough for my first one if not i’ll do better in my next one !!
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pairing: benito martinez x wife!black!fem!reader summary: He said just the tip. cw: 18+ mdni, p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk (lwk) & wtv i wrote
a/n: i use lots of ‘—’ no it’s not ai
Benito had promised just the tip.
That's what he'd whispered against your mouth when he walked through the door, still smelling like the studio—cologne and that particular heat that clung to him after hours of tracking vocals. His hands had found your waist before he even kicked his shoes off, pulling you into his chest while your name fell from his lips like a prayer he'd been holding in all day.
"Mami, los niños—"
"Asleep," you'd told him, your own hands sliding up his arms, feeling the tension knotted in his shoulders. "Been down for an hour."
The groan that rumbled out of him was pure relief. Pure want. He'd pressed his forehead to yours and let out a long breath, his thumbs tracing circles against the fabric of your robe, that thin silk thing you'd thrown on after bath time, after story time, after the long ritual of tucking your babies in and kissing their foreheads and turning on their nightlight.
And then his mouth found yours, slow at first, like he was tasting you for the first time all over again. But you knew better. You knew that slow burn. You knew the way his hands tightened on your hips, the way his tongue swept past your lips, the way his breathing changed, shallow and hungry.
So when he pulled back and said it—just the tip, just a little, he'd be quick—you'd laughed, soft and knowing, and let him lead you to the bedroom.
Now you're on your back, your honey brown hair fanned across the pillow in waves, twenty inches buss down that cost a pretty penny and makes him go feral every time. His fingers are tangled in it, gripping the nape, tilting your head back so he can lick down your throat.
"Benito—"
"Shh, mami." His voice is rough, wrecked already. He's still half-dressed, jeans undone, shirt hanging open, that tattooed chest on full display. "Déjame cuidarte."
His hand slides down your body, palm hot against your stomach, then lower, past the waistband of your panties. You're already wet—you'd been thinking about him all evening, about the way he'd looked this morning, half-asleep and reaching for you before the kids came stumbling in. And when his fingers find your clit, you gasp, your hips bucking into his touch.
"Ay, Dios mío," he breathes. "Estás tan mojada. Todo para mí?"
"All for you," you manage, and he groans like the words hit him somewhere deep.
He pushes your panties aside, not even bothering to take them off, and you feel the tip of his cock pressing against you. Thick. Hot. That familiar weight that always makes your breath catch.
"Solo la puntita," he promises again, and you almost believe him.
Almost.
Because the second he pushes in, just the head, just a little, his eyes roll back and his hips stutter forward and suddenly it's not just the tip anymore. It's him sinking into you, inch by inch, that thick stretch that has you crying out, your nails digging into his shoulders.
"Benito— you said—"
"Lo sé, lo sé, mami." He's already breathless, already lost. "Pero te sientes tan bien. No pude— ay, coño—"
His hips press forward and he bottoms out, and you both moan together, a harmony of sound that fills the room. "Mmm, shit, Beni—
He starts moving. Slow at first, deep strokes that drag against your walls and make your eyes flutter shut. His forehead rests against yours, his breath hot on your lips, and every thrust is punctuated by a grunt, a whisper, a "puta madre" or an "ay, Dios" that tumbles out of him like he can't help it.
You can feel every inch of him. The way his cock pulses inside you. The way his thighs press against yours. The way his hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, pinning your hand to the mattress.
"Mírame," he commands, and you open your eyes. His are dark, blown wide, locked on yours. "Quiero verte cuando te vengas."
"Then fuck me like you mean it."
The grin that spreads across his face is wicked. "Oh, ¿sí? Así quiere ella?"
He pulls out, and before you can complain, he's flipping you over. Your knees hit the mattress, your chest pressed into the sheets, your ass in the air. You hear him groan behind you—a low, guttural sound that makes your pussy clench around nothing.
"Mira ese culo," he mutters, more to himself than to you. His hands land on your hips, squeezing, kneading. "Dios mío, mami. Este culo me va a matar."
He lines himself up and pushes back in, and the angle is different now, deeper, harder, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. Your mouth falls open, a sharp cry tearing out of you.
"¡Ay, coño!" he growls, picking up the pace. "Así— así— mierda, qué rico—"
The sound of him fucking you fills the room. Wet and rhythmic, skin slapping against skin. You're dripping down your thighs, soaking the sheets, and every time he thrusts you feel it in your throat.
"Beni— right there— fuck—"
"¿Ahí? ¿Ahí te gusta?" He pounds into that spot, relentless. His hand reaches around, fingers finding your clit, circling it in time with his strokes. "Dime. Dime cómo te sientes."
"So good— ahh— so fucking good, Benito—"
"Mmm, sí. Grita mi nombre. Quiero oírlo."
And you do. You scream it when he hits that spot again, your fingers gripping the sheets, your whole body trembling. "Benito! Benito!"
"Así, mami. Así."
He slows down, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, torturously slow. You whimper, pushing back against him, trying to get more, but his hands hold you still.
"Tranquila," he purrs. "Disfrútalo."
He fucks you like that for what feels like forever, deep and slow and deliberate, every stroke hitting places you forgot existed. Your legs start shaking. Your breath comes in gasps. You can hear yourself making sounds you don't recognize—high and desperate.
"Te siento," he whispers, leaning over your back, his mouth against your ear. "Te siento apretándome. Estás cerca, ¿verdad?"
"Yes— yes, Beni, I'm—"
"Ven conmigo. Vamos juntos."
He speeds up again, his thrusts losing rhythm, getting sloppier, needier. His breathing is ragged, his grip bruising, and every word out of his mouth is a curse or a prayer.
"Mierda— te quiero— esta pussy es mía—"
"Yours— fuck— all yours—"
"Dilo otra vez."
"All yours, Benito— ahh— I'm gonna—"
He hits that spot one more time—slap, slap, slap—and you shatter. Your orgasm rips through you like a wave, pulling you under, and you hear yourself screaming his name, a long, breathless "BENITO!" that echoes off the walls.
He follows right behind you, a guttural "¡Ay, coño, mami!" as he buries himself deep and spills into you, hot and thick, his whole body shuddering against yours.
You collapse together, a tangle of limbs and sweaty skin and ragged breaths. He's still inside you, softening, and neither of you moves for a long moment.
Then he kisses your shoulder. Your neck. The curve of your spine.
"Te amo," he murmurs against your skin. "Perdón por la mentira."
You laugh, weak and breathless. "You're not sorry."
"No," he admits, grinning against your back. "No lo siento."
all rights go to @𝐁𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗕𝗔𝗥𝗕𝗜𝗘 . i do not agree with my content to be stolen nor to be translated without my permission.
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pairing : marlon jackson x black!fem!reader
content : the jacksons era ( 1970's ) . joesph jackson . mentions of physical abuse . not proofread . let me know if i've missed anything . synopsis : in which — marlon jackson shows up outside your window in the middle of the night, you become the only place he feels safe.
( authors note:: had to write something for my favoriteee jacksonnn )
Clink.
You shifted in your bed, brows furrowing. Before you could fully process the sound, it came again, louder this time in the silence of your room.
Clink.
You jolted upright, heart racing as your eyes darted around the darkness. The room was barely visible except for the pale strip of moonlight slipping through the curtains and spilling across the corner of your floor.
Then another small tap echoed through the room.
Your gaze drifted toward the window.
Pushing the covers off, you carefully slid out of bed, avoiding the creaky floorboards so you wouldn’t wake your parents.
You pulled the curtain aside and squinted into the dark.
A familiar figure stood near the tree outside, hood pulled over his curls.
“Marlon?”
He waved his hands frantically, trying to make sure you could see him.
You quickly pushed the window open, confusion clouding your face. “Are you crazy? It’s like two in the morning, Mar.”
“I know,” he whisper-yelled. “Please.”
The desperation in his voice made your expression soften immediately.
You nodded and motioned for him to come up, watching as he climbed the tree before squeezing himself through your window.
This wasn’t unusual for Marlon. He showed up at your house unannounced all the time. But never this late. Never at two in the morning.
You and Marlon had been close ever since you were kids. Your families attended Kingdom Hall together, and the two of you had grown even closer after ending up in the same youth group. Somewhere along the way, he’d become your best friend.
“I’m gettin’ real good at it,” he said proudly as he brushed dirt from his hands and jeans.
“You’re gonna break your neck one day.”
He looked up at you, and that’s when you finally saw his face clearly.
His eyes were red and swollen, like he’d been crying.
Your voice softened instantly. “Marlon…”
He looked away.
You stepped closer. “What happened?”
He shrugged, trying to brush it off, but you saw right through him.
“Joseph.”
You sat down on the edge of your bed and gently pulled him down beside you. “What did he do?”
Marlon fidgeted with the sleeves of his hoodie. “Nothin’ new.”
That alone told you it was bad.
He let out a bitter laugh. “We been rehearsin’ all day, and I messed up one part. One little part.” He stared down at the floor. “And he just… went off.”
Your chest tightened.
“He said I wasn’t focused enough. Said I don’t work hard enough.” His jaw clenched. “Always the same thing. ‘Be like Michael. Do it like Michael.’”
His voice cracked slightly at the end.
“I’m never gonna be good enough for him.”
“That’s not true.”
Marlon didn’t answer.
Silence settled over the room while moonlight filtered through the curtains, catching the tears he was trying so hard to hide.
“Marlon.”
He finally looked at you, and the look in his eyes nearly broke your heart.
The moment your arms wrapped around him, his breath hitched. He froze at first, almost like he didn’t know how to react. Then, slowly, his shoulders sagged and his arms slipped around your waist.
“I got you,” you whispered softly.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, trembling as quiet tears soaked onto your shirt.
For a while, the only sounds in the room were the soft hum of the ceiling fan and Marlon trying to steady his breathing.
Eventually, he pulled away, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie before letting out a small, embarrassed laugh.
“I’m supposed to be tougher than this.”
“Says who?”
He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. You already knew.
Instead, he kicked off his shoes and stretched out across your bed. Shaking you head, you laid on your back, placing your head on his stomach.
“You can stay here awhile,” you whispered.
He lifted his head slightly to look at you. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Long as you stop throwin’ rocks at my window.”
It felt like forever, but it was finally over, completed. And he couldn't wait to see, her. ℘. black fem! (ex girlfriend) x Cameron Cade (possessive, slight stalker ish. smut fr) word count, around 5k
"Don't call me again." Those words repeated so many times.
You hang up the phone for the last time. He kept calling, calling, and calling. You broken up awhile back just before Cameron had went off to training. You all seemed okay before all of this, cordial even. But now? Its like something changed in him. A flip switched. A wire cut or even a screw loose. All of a sudden, hes talking to you like he dont even care what comes out his mouth.
“I still love you. I ain’t letting you go. You hear me?”
'"You think you can just ignore me? Do I gotta pay someone a visit?"
“…I still got love for you"
"I miss you"
"Answer the fucking phone y/n!"
"You so fuckin— look just call me"
Ridiculous, you'd mutter under your breath. Cam was never like this, so it made you wonder what the hell happened? You pray he got better, because this isnt the Cameron you know, or remember. You ran into him a few times, each time was a hit or miss.
You happened to be with a friend when one situation happened. The whole day was doing good, you got your nails done and took a pic of em, posting them to your insta. Now you were out n about with your friend.
(Just some inspo <3)
You both were shopping for some cute stuff. You went all over the store looking for anything that caught yalls eye. You stopped in your tracks and went over to the dress isle. You saw a dress that screamed you. You walked over to it and pulled it out, "Hey girl isnt this—"
But before you could finish, she gently taps your shoulder. You glance at her and make a "wassup?" Face. She tilts her head towards a certain direction. Your eyes follow the direction until you see a familiar face. Cameron cade. Your ex. "Gosh," You mumble to yourself. He comes walking over, hands by his side, like nothing happened.
"Hey y/n" he then nods to your friend, she gives a tight lip awkward smile.
"You need a sec?" She asks you quietly. Cam and you both reply at the same time.
"No."
"Yes."
You look over to him, annoyed. A quiet sigh leaves you as you nod toward your friend. She looks between the two of you, reading the tension instantly. “I’ll be outside,” she says, giving you a quick look before walking off.
The second she’s gone, it’s just you and him.
Cameron’s eyes don’t leave you. Not once.
It makes your skin warm. Something about him feels different—quieter, heavier. Like he’s not about to joke or brush anything off this time.
You look away first.
“I don’t really got nothing to say to you,” you mutter, turning back to the racks like he’s not even standing there.
You start flipping through the clothes, one hanger after another, not really looking at anything now. Just needing something to do with your hands.
He scoffs slightly, “Don’t got nothing to say,” he repeats. “Funny… you had a lot to say before I showed up.” You dont bother that with a response, you put something in the cart. Cameron just watches you.
“You been good?” he asks, more serious now.
You hesitate slightly. Just for a second. “Yeah im good” you say quickly.
He watches you, not buying it. “Don’t sound like it.”
You roll your eyes, finally turning to face him. “Why you even care?”
His jaw tightens slightly, but his voice stays even.“Cause I do.”
That lands. You hate that it does. You shake your head, looking away again. “You got a funny way of showing it.” Another pause.
“Yeah,” he admits quietly. “I know.” You keep flipping through the rack like he’s not even there.
“I don’t have anything to say to you" you say again.
“Mm,” he hums behind you, like he don’t fully believe that.
You pull another hanger forward. “I’m serious.”
“I can tell,” he mutters. “That’s why you still standin’ here.”
You pause, then glance at him over your shoulder. You wasnt gonna leave simply because he decided to pop up. If anything he needed to go. “You always gotta say something, huh? Cant never just” you do a hand motion, meaning to shut the fuck up.
He shrugs a little, stepping closer, casual but not really. “Only when it matter.” You was able to smell a little bit of his cologne, comforting and incredibly nice.
You scoff, turning back to the clothes. “Nothing about this matters. In the past actually."
“Aight,” he says quietly. “So I’ll leave.”
You exhale, a little annoyed now. “Then go.”
He tilts his head slightly. “You want me to?”
You finally turn, brows pulling together. “Clearly, why you asking me?”
“Cause you ain’t say it like you meant it,” he replies, calm. That hits a nerve, why cant he just go on somewhere.
“You swear you know me so well,” you mutter.
He steps in just a little, eyes steady. “I know you enough.”
You roll your eyes, but your voice drops. “You don’t know anything, Cade.”
“Yeah?” he says, quieter now. “Then why you lookin’ at me like that?”
“Cameron, go the fuck away. Now.” It hurts to say it, but it needs to be said. You missed him. You did. But, right now wasn't a good time.
His face shifts just slightly, eyes darkening, that controlled intensity settling over him. He stares at you for a long beat, like he’s weighing whether to push or back off.
Finally, he takes a small step back, just enough to give you space. “Aight,” he mutters, nodding once, jaw tight.
He lingers for another second, eyes still locked on yours, like he’s making sure you really mean it. He steps back, finally giving you space, like he’s actually done this time. Then his eyes drop to the dress in your hands.
“…That what you picked?” he mutters. You don’t answer, just giving him a stare.
He smirks faintly, but it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “Gonna have people staring” he says low. “Like always.”
A pause. Before you can react, he leans in and presses a quick kiss to your cheek. Not soft. Not playful. Just… him.
“Still love you,” he mutters under his breath, rough. He then starts stepping back, jaw tight.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” he adds, almost under his breath. Then he turns and walks off, not looking back.
Flash back ends ୨ৎ
That was awhile back. You still think of that moment, it plays in the back of your head. You start walking up the stairs to your house. You just got home from picking up some stuff, you put your key in the door and twist it open. You walk in, placing the bags down and lock the door tightly. You start going through your stuff, fruits, juices, meats and noodles.
You got ready to put them up, opening bags when all of a sudden your phone rings. You look over to your phone, placed on the counter. Some random number, but you already knew who it was.
So, you didn't bother answering.
You continued putting some stuff up. Dry ingredients, flour, cornmeal, spices and cereals. You turned your back, but your phone kept ringing and ringing.
"Damn it, its like he knows when I get home" you mutter underneath your breath. You slowly grab your phone and slide the button, "Hello?" You say with a hint of regret.
"Hey" a quiet voice responds. Cameron.
"No caller ID this time?" You asked while putting the phone in between your ear and shoulder. You continue putting the rest of the stuff up.
"Ion got no reason to hide from you" he responds.
You didn't say nothing in return, you waited for him to come out his mouth again. You couldn't wait to hang up. To your surprise he didnt do any of that.
"Hey look um" he says quietly. "I apologize for the way ive been acting. You don't deserve that" he starts off. You don't say anything back, but you're tuned in.
"Training did a lot on me, but that's no excuse to treat you the way ive been doing. I'm sorry, and I really do mean that. I just, wanted to give you one last call before I don't speak to you again. I know the calling was annoying," he finished.
You stood against your counter quietly, deciding. "I'm glad you came to your senses Cam, because that isnt like you at all." Is all you say.
No, "I accept your apology," none of that. What he did was not okay, and he needed to know that.
"I know—I know I'm sorry. Can you ever forgive me? However long it takes. I'm willing, I just, I need to hear you say you forgive me," for once he actually sounded sincere. Like he cared about your feelings enough to finally give you an apology. But, you were still unsure.
"I'm going to need time to think about it," is all you say. He didnt say nothing for awhile, he was quiet on the other line.
Then he spoke, "Okay, take all the time you need. Again, I'm sorry y/n, for everything ive done. I love you"
That "I love you," you knew he wanted you to say it back, just for confirmation that you still loved him too. You did but, he needed to be let go.
"Thank you for your apology, have a good one Cameron." And just like that you hung up. No I love you back, like old times. Just cordial talking. Like he was nothing. A small part of you missed him dearly, but you had to let it go.
ᥫ᭡.
The house was quiet, no more phone calls or text. You finished putting all the groceries up and decided to relax. You took a good shower, caring to yourself. Your body needed it. The hot water ran down against your skin, washing some of the tension away, loosening the tight knots in your shoulders. You lathered up with your favorite chocolate-scented soap, the rich, sweet smell filling the bathroom, mixing with the warm steam.
A little shower oil glides over your skin, making it soft and smooth. Once done, you apply your scarf, the beautiful satin cloth around your hair. You head to your drawers and slip out your burgundy night gown. You put it on and then your slippers.
You walk back to your kitchen, comfortable. An eazy breeze rnz through all the parts of your body as you walked. You reach into your freezer for some ice cream, you needed something comforting and sweet. You walked over and grabbed your favorite.
You got a spoon and started scooping out small parts, making sure to get mostly the cookie bites. One goes straight into your mouth, the warm sweetness hitting your tongue before you go back for more. You took another bite before going back to scooping. As you do, you hear a small creek in the floor. You slowly stop, and listen.
"Did I sound convincing?" A voice asks. But you knew that voice. Cameron.
You put the spoon down, your body feeling heavy, you knew it was too good to be true. You slowly swallow the leftover ice cream in your mouth, "How did you get in here".
"The way I usually do"
"You don't have a key," you replied.
"I don't need a key. Never did."
You didn't even want to turn around, but you needed to know if you were hallucinating. So, you slowly turn and see him standing tall. His face serious, but in a way pleased to see you. Jeans and a hoodie, with his chain he always wore. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Cameron…” he tilts his head, watching you like he’s seeing you for the first time and remembering everything all at once.
“Yeah,” he says, almost under his breath. “It’s me. I missed you," he says staring.
"Wish I could say the same" you reply with a little bit of bitterness. "I was glad when you were gone. I finally had....apiece of mind." You weren’t even sure if you were telling the truth. Not really. Not even to yourself.
A small part of you wanted it to be true, wanted the relief, the excuse—but another part… another part still remembered him too well. The way he looked, the way he moved, the way he could make your chest tighten with just a glance.
"Yeah I was gone, and I lost my fucking mind. And when I needed you the most, you left."
"We broke up before that I didn't-"
"Didn't fucking matter y/n. I needed you," he said harshly, cutting you off. You stood there, feeling a tad bit guilty. You didn't know. But this is what he does, try to make you think you're in the wrong. Wrong for setting boundaries, deciding on no contact from each other.
"I told you how I felt, Cameron."
"Don't say my name like that, like you done with me"
"I am. I'm clear on that"
"That why you standing in that?" He asks in a rough tone.
You felt seen, you take a step back. "You broke in you fucking dumbass. If I knew you were here i'd—"
"You'd what?" He mocked you. "Call the police on me? Call yo momma n family on me? You think they'd believe id ever do something like that to you?" He asks you stepping closer to you.
Too close. You stare at him. He looks down on you, that smug look still on his face, "Hm… no, right?" he asked softly, tilting his head like he already knew the answer.
"You're wrong" you spat at it.
"Call em" he said pushing your phone to you. "See what happens."
You quickly grab your phone and start walking away from him. You needed to dial the cops or someone.
"I'll pay em a vist" he simply says.
"Cameron im not fucking playing with you. Get out my house" you walk away fast. He follows after you and grabs your hands twisting it and snatching your phone.
"Or what? Huh?" He asks you. You stare at him, of course he was fucking playing you. He didnt mean that stupid ass apology, he just wanted to get back with you.
He then starts backing you up against the counter, your back presses the cold marble.
"Ion wanna be this way with you," he says quietly. His hands find your waist, trapping you in. “But sometimes…” he breaths, shaking his head slightly, eyes locked on yours, “You make it hard not to.”
“What don’t you understand?” you say, voice tight. “We’re not together. And we’re not getting back together either.”
You shake your head at him, eyes narrowing. “You’re not the same person anymore, Cameron. You’re… fucked up now. Completely.
His eyes squinted at you, "Yeah, well… work’ll do that to you,” he mutters, jaw tightening. “Especially when the one person you thought you could count on just up and left."
Your mouth opens like you’re about to snap back, but nothing comes out. The anger that was sitting on your tongue suddenly feels… heavier. You felt bad, you didnt know what was happening while he was away in training.
You look away from him, shoulders dropping slightly.
“That’s not—” you start, but your voice trails off.
Because part of you knows exactly what he’s talking about.
You swallow and shake your head, quieter now. “Cam… we broke up before all that happened. You know that."
“When everything started getting crazy. When the pressure hit. All that shit.” His eyes flick back to yours. “You were gone. Couldn't call you or anything. You wouldn't answer." He then leans in close to you, making you lean away.
"But that's not gonna happen again, I got you now." With that he glances to your lips, soft and unkissed, then back up at you. You breath quietly, staring at him. He then takes his hand and traces the bottom of your gown, lightly dragging it up. He doesn't look down, he testing on how you're gonna respond. You say you wanted him gone, forever, prove it.
But you don't. You missed him.
His hand slips to your bare skin, fingers lightly groping the skin. "I still love you" he says quietly. "But right now" he doesn't finish his words before he starts pulling down your robe. You feel the warm air brush over your shoulder, like a warning of whats gonna happen next.
He leans into you, slightly kissing you on your neck. Teeth lightly scraping, "You smell like chocolate" he says quietly. He then comes up and pauses before your lips. "Tell me to go" he says quiet. You dont, you stand there against the counter, waiting. Your heart starts beating, your eyes start ticking lightly.
A small smile reaches his lips, "Yeah I thought so."
Before you could talk back, he's already kissing you. Starved and desperate. He missed you so fucking much. He'd read old messages, listen to old calls, just to hear your voice again. He kisses you hard, you let out a small grunt against his lips. He then grabs your hips, picking you up and setting you up on the counter. He presses you up against himself, your hands go to his face, kissing him back. His hands wrapped around your waist, heavy. Almost as if he was just waiting.
Even in all of this, you still tried to fight it. The feeling of him, but while one part of you tried to fight, the other was slowly giving in. He parts from the kiss standing back lightly, "And im still gonna be nice to you" he says getting low. He then pulls down your panties, dragging your legs open in the process. He takes it all in.
You were wet and slightly embarrassed. Of course you were. He looks down at the wetness forming between your folds. He then gently brushes his hand over your bare pussy, "Whos this for?" He asks glancing up to you. You glare at him, not wanting to say anything to him.
"You was gettin ready to play with it huh?" He says looking up at you.
Gosh he was so fucking vulgar. You scoffed at him. "Just shut up."
"I came at a good time" He goes down to get closer to your pussy, he gives a small kiss right on your clit. Still looking at you he starts kissing more, and slowly slurping. You try keeping your mouth shut, you didn't wanna give him any type satisfaction. But, he continued his motions, his tongue slipping through your folds, tasting your wetness. He let out a small groan, as if remembering just how sweet you tasted against his tongue. He made sure to run it around your clit in small circles, just like you liked. You hesitantly grab his head, pushing him deeper in your pussy. He let out small kisses noises as he did.
"You needed this huh?" He presses a kiss right on your pussy again. "You know I take care of you" more sloppy licks find your clit. You let out a soft moan, still holding his head.
"Pretty girl got her pussy all over my tongue" he says glancing up to you. He sucks going a little faster at your clit, making your legs lightly shake. You let go of his head to grab the counter, keeping yourself balanced. He then replaces his tongue with his thumb, rubbing it in a fast circle.
"That feel good y/n? Yeah I know it do, pussy jumping for joy" he mocks you. You rolled your eyes at him, but he was right. Everything he did felt too good, he knew your body well. He knew just how to make it talk for him. He rubs your pussy faster, he watches as it drips even more for him. He smiled and glanced up at you. Your breathing started getting heavy, your head tilted back, you try to hold it back, but you could feel it. Just as you're about to cum he stops, you looked back down at him, mad and a little desperate. "Not so fast" he says putting you back on your feet. You stood in front of him, heart beating fast and your pussy still wanting more.
He hummed lightly and grabbed your wrist, "Cmon" he said walking over to the couch. You sucked your teeth as he dragged you along his side roughly. This wasn't supposed to happen, but it did. Instead of pushing him away, standing on what you said, you fell back. He watches it happen, like he knew you would. No rush, no reaction—just that same calm look.
Cameron drops onto the couch, spreading out like he owns the space, eyes still on you.
He nods once, subtle. “C’mere.”
You roll your eyes annoyed, trying to hold onto whatever attitude you had left. But your feet move before your pride can catch up.
Slowly, you walk over, stopping right in front of him.
He doesn’t say anything else, just looks up at you, expectant. You lower yourself down, settling on your knees between his legs. For a second, it’s quiet—just the tension sitting heavy between you.
His hand comes up, resting lightly against your face, thumb brushing once like he’s testing you.
You looked up at him, he seemed taller than ever. He slowly undid his jeans, revealing his grey boxers. Underneath was his dick—standing right at attention for you. You glanced at it and then back at him.
"What you want me to do with that?" You replied arching a brow. “Floss with it?”
You were bullshittin. Cameron was far, from small. A good 8, a good size and perfect girth around him.
He goes quiet for a second, biting down on his tongue while his eyes settled on you. His eyes drag over your face slowly, like he’s deciding whether to snap or laugh.
He knows exactly what you’re doing—trying to piss him off. And for a moment it almost works. Then his expression shifted, something calmer… almost amused.
“Yeah,” he mutters, tilting his head slightly. “Keep talking.”
He slips out his member, “I got something for that.”
Next thing you know he brings your head down, being careful he doesn't mess up your scarf. He lightly tapped his sticky tip against your lips, telling you to open. "I aint playing either"
You slowly, open up your mouth, taking him in. He hums quiet, lightly pushing your head up and down his length. You slide back up and suck over his tip gently. His eyes follow your movements, pleased.
"There you go pretty girl, mhm" he says quiet.
You hated that he called you that, it made your pussy twitch so good. His voice was low and taunting, like he wanted you to say something else to him. He then removes his hand away from your face, letting you work his dick.
"Better be nice to you right now,” he says, settling back against the couch, eyes still on you. “’So I can fuck you up later"
You scoff. “What, you gonna make me your bitch or something?”
He lets out a quiet hum, looking you up and down like he’s thinking about it.
“Mm,” he mutters. “Don’t gotta make you do nothin, you be doin’ that all on your own," he then nods to you. "Keep sucking"
So you do, you keep sucking, but don't add much effort. Purposely. You slowly tease his tip, blowing spit all over it, then taking it back in your mouth. You slowly wrap your hand around his dick, giving lazy slow strokes. He let's out a quiet groan, "You playing" he says. You give a look at him, before swirling your hand around his tip, pumping your first over him. Even if you weren't putting in much effort, he still felt everything little thing. He was glad to see you, to feel you again, finally. You give another small kiss to his dick before looking up at him. He chuckled and pulls you to your feet. He guides you on the couch, making you arch. He takes his dick stroking himself a few times before rubbing it close to your entrance. You knowingly open your legs wider for waiting so he can have better access.
"Got yo pussy ready huh?" He asks making a mess of your pussy with his tip. He then slowly slides in, making you press against the couch.
"Ah-" you say quietly into the cushions. Cameron starts giving you a few deep strokes, just enough for yourself to adjust to his size.
"Yeah you miss me too," he says before pounding you. This time, he wasn't gonna fuck you nicely. He was gonna fuck you how you needed, rough n deep. Just so you can learn a lesson about trynna get away from him. His hands are locked on your hips as he slams you back against his dick. His fingers groped into your meat, making it impossible for you to run away from him.
"W-wait go slow—" you tell him. His pounding felt too good you couldn't handle it. You needed time to get used to his size, you felt yourself stretching around him each time he slammed against you.
"Whats that? You wanna go slow? All sweet n gentle?" He asks you tilting his head. You slowly nod your head, resting it against the edge of the couch.
He goes quiet for a second, just looking at you.
Then he lets out a small huff, almost like a laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t even believe that,” he mutters. Despite his words, he eases his rhythm, drawing back slow before plunging in deep with each thrust, making you feel every inch of his dick.
"Ion mind giving it to you, but girls like you needa get fucked like this every once in a while," he says quietly.
"Especially with all the shit you talk. Drives me crazy. Had me calling you every damn day, had to ride around just to come see you" he says in your ear, his hips rolling in a measured grind. "—Fuck, " he says grinding slow into you. Your back is kept arch, your lips bit as he continued to fuck you good. He grabs your hair through the scarf and pulls it back, just so you can look at him.
"You like when I fuck yo pussy like this?" All you could do is moan in response while holding on. He pulled your hair back even more, he quicken his pace "I asked you a question. You like when I fuck yo pussy like this?"
"Yesss, Cam. Pleaseeee"
"Mhm answer when I'm talking to you" he lets go of your hair, letting you relax your head. He started pounding your pussy with extra strength. The noises of skin slapping got louder, you gripped onto the cushions, trying to stay in position. Your pussy gushes from the fast pounding, not getting a chance to relax. Just more heavenly sensations after the next. You never got fucked like this, but you were glad it was happening. Your hand tries to press against his abdomen, but he grabs it instead.
"Cmon mamas take that dick" he says encouragingly. "I know you can, arch it up more" he tells you before changing his pace again.
He rolls up his hoodie, taking it off but leaving on his chain. He grabs your buttocks spreading it open and slowly going deeper. Each stroke resulted in a desperate groan from you, he loved it. He then leans over again.
"Want you to look at me" he says quiet, waiting for you to turn your head. You slowly turn your head to look at him. Your eyes heavy and low, your lashes lightly damp and your mouth parted.
"Want you to see who doing this to you," his arm comes across, grabbing the top part of the couch.
"Plus, I wanna see that look when you cum," a small knowing smile forms to his lips. You glare at him, still letting your body pound against his.
"Or you want me to hold like this?" Your breath catches as his hand snakes up, fingers wrapping firmly around the back of your neck, pulling you in with a possessive grip. He kisses you sloppily, his lips smacked against yours, his body crowded over you. He hummed deeply as you kissed him back messily. Your tongue slipped around his in the kiss. A deep hum rumbles from his throat, vibrating into your mouth as you kiss him back with equal messiness. He parts from the kiss, giving you a love tap, before going back to what you need.
Your hand slowly moved to your clit, rubbing it in fast circles. You were desperate to cum, you were just on the edge.
"Mhm rub that pussy so you can cum" he encouraged you, going a lil faster. You moaned low as you did, back arched, pussy still holding onto him for dear life. He felt you close up around him, he moaned lowly. You then look back at him, your nails digging into the couch.
"Pussy gon cum for me?" He asks looking down at you, you respond nodding your head.
“You gon get rid of me?” he mutters.
You shake your head quick, words coming out before you can stop them. “No— I’m not.”
“Yeah,” he says under his breath. “Didn’t think so.”
He tilts his head, “You always do all that talking,” he adds quietly, “But you don’t mean half of it. Told yo friends you done with me, but look at you now?"
Your breath catches, and you try to push out a response, but it doesn’t come out right. “Cam, just—m'sorry" you lightly cry out.
"I know baby, I know," he gives you a few good strokes, being sure to pound you hard. You feel your pussy gush, getting more sloppily than it already is.
"Shit—m'gonna cum" you tell him.
“Go ’head,” he says under his breath, smiling. ''Cum," he tells you, hips still snapping against your ass. He keeps going, eyes on you, like he’s reading every reaction.
You give your clit one final rub before the wave crashes over you. Your pussy clenching tight around his dick, creamin all ova it. You let out a quiet whine, "Shitttt"
"Hm just like that" he grunts low, still stroking n out your pussy, helping you ride it out. You calm down from your high, lightly closing your legs, trying to keep the feeling.
He then slowly pulls himself out your creamed pussy. "Come here" he says, he lightly brings your face lower. He strokes his length over your face, letting it tap your cheek. He grunts as white nut comes pumping out his tip, hitting your cheek and some parts of your lips. He finished, wiping the rest on your cheek. Teasingly you lick your lips up at him. He then leaned down and kissed your lips softly, "Still love you, can't stop"
@cherrishkissed
🫶🏽notes ♡
HOPPING DICK DICK DICK HOPPING DICK DICK DICK im sooooo hungry rn. I need it sbbbb (u shouldnt want this irl for obvious reasons...) but thanks for reading I'll edit laterrrr 😋
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Your best friend calls, voice raw, and you realize he’s jerking off to you. The call spirals into a dirty, tense back-and-forth—him confessing all the nasty things he wants to do to you, you teasing between sweet and cruel, letting him see just enough to break him. He cums hard for you, then you make him listen while you play with yourself and orgasm. At the very end, you drop the sweetest bomb—and hang up, leaving him ruined, obsessed, and wanting more.
★2,827 words, old story, smut/explicit sexual content(18+), lots of dirty talk, masturbation, praise & a tiny bit of degradation, pet name/name calling (e.g, ma/mama, baby, sweetheart, honey¹, and slut¹), you're a little mean but he likes it, etc★
★18+ 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝑫𝒐 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕★
"Hello?" you call, picking up on the third ring. The room is quiet, the only light the coming from your amber lamp and the blue glow from your screen reflecting off your freshly done nails.
"H-hey," his voice scrapes out on the other end. It’s a wrecked sound—ragged, breathless, and vibrating with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.
Your brows pull tight, a slow worry already beginning to tug at your lips. "Are you okay? You sound... off."
You picture him for a second. Maybe he’s sweaty from a run, his chest heaving under a thin t-shirt. Or maybe he’s been lugging another Amazon dresser for that old lady down the block—always the good guy, always helping somebody. But as you listen to the heavy, rhythmic hitch in his breathing, you realize you’re wrong.
Right now, your best friend is laid out on his bed, the sheets a mess beneath him. His sweatpants and boxers are shoved down to his mid-thighs, his brown skin damp and glowing in the dim light of his room. His stomach is corded, muscles tightening and rippling with every long, desperate drag of his fist. His dick is a dark, heavy weight in his hand—slick, flushed, and dripping through his fingers.
He’s slowly but firmly stroking himself to the thought—and now the sweet, taunting sound—of your voice. Precum is already smeared over his knuckles, his thumb rolling lazy over his slit before pressing harder, coaxing a deep, guttural grunt from his throat.
"Mgh—nothing. Just... talk to me," he rasps, the friction of his hand audible through the speaker.
Your frown deepens, your heart is starting to race. "Why? What’s wrong, baby?"
The pet name slips out easy, unthinking. But the effect is immediate—he moans low, a broken, helpless sound, like you’d reached through the line and wrapped your hand around him yourself. He lives for when your voice turns soft like this, when you stop clowning him and get sweet. His fist moves quicker now, his hips pushing up into his palm, seeking the friction he can’t get enough of.
"I'm fine, I promise. Just keep talking. Please."
You fall quiet for a beat, leaning back against your headboard. You listen harder. You hear the wet, squelching sounds of his grip. The sharp little hitches of breath. The low, animalistic sound he makes when his fist squeezes tighter at the base.
And it clicks.
"...You’re jerking off."
Silence. Just the heavy, frantic sound of his breathing. Then a broken, self-deprecating laugh. "Yeah. M'sorry. Can’t stop. Not when it’s you."
Your breath stutters, a prickle of heat blooming low in your belly. "You’re getting off to me? On the damn phone?"
"Every time," he admits, his voice rough and needy, but with a sudden edge of raw honesty. He wants you to know. He wants you to feel the weight of it. "Think about you all the time. That mouth. Those tits. The way your ass looks in those shorts." His pace picks up, the slick, lewd sounds of his hand working his dick filling the line. "Fuck, I’d do anything to see you ride me, just once. Just to see what that look on your face is like when I’m deep inside you."
You bite your lip, your pulse kicking against your throat. "That’s disgusting. Using my voice to get your nut. You’re nasty."
He groans like you’ve just blessed him with a touch. "Yeah, I know. But you're all I think about... you’re the only thing that gets me this hard."
"That's nice, honey. But you really shouldn't think of me like that... you know we're just friends," you murmur, your own hand sliding down to rest heavy on your thigh, the silk of your shorts cool against your palm.
"Don’t say that." His tone cuts sharp now, all the nice playfulness you've come to love is gone. "I’m not your fucking friend. You call me every day. You tell me you love me. I told you from the start—I’m not your friend." His breath hitches, the wet sounds of his fist speeding up, becoming more frantic. "You let me talk to you like this. And you let me—You let me be in your life knowing how I feel about you."
Your acrylic nail drags slow across your bottom lip. "Maybe. But I can't give you what you want, and I do love you, but don't throw it in my face," you drawl, a cruel, satisfied smirk pulling at your mouth.
"It’s kinda sad. Stroking your dick to a girl you’ll never have. We'll never be together. I’ll never let you fuck me. All you get is your hand."
He chokes out a moan, his hips snapping up into his fist with a raw, mechanical rhythm. "Yeah? Then give me something else. Show me. Facetime me, ma. Please."
You hesitate, the heat pooling heavy and agonizing between your thighs. Then, you click over.
The screen flickers to life. His camera is shaking, his breath filling the dark room. Sweat beads at his temples, his face flushed a deep, beautiful bronze, his lips parted. You know that tremor in the camera—it’s the force of his fist moving fast.
"Thank you," he exhales, the word almost reverent as he takes in your appearance.
"Hi, baby. Let me see your face," you don't ask it like a question. You order it.
He obeys instantly. His face fills the screen, his jaw tight and corded, his sharp fade a bit messy from the heat and the friction.
"You look good," you compliment, but the little laugh that follows makes it sting.
"Keep talking." He’s close, you can hear the strain in his voice. "Don't stop."
"I want to see."
He blinks, his eyes glazed and dark. "What?"
"I'm not repeating myself."
He lets out a breathless, desperate laugh, knowing your patience is thin. "Take your shirt off then. Let me see what I'm working for."
You narrow your eyes at the audacity, but you reach down and tug the pajama top off anyway. Your lace bra catches the light, the fabric straining against the fullness of your breasts. You don’t cover yourself; he’s seen you in less, and you want him to see exactly what he’s missing.
"Fuck," he groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated pain. He flips the camera.
Your breath catches. Your mouth goes dry. His dick is a complete mess—his fist is working tight and fast, the dark, veined length of him glistening with pre-cum. White streaks of cum are already dried tacky over his thighs from previous rounds, and his stomach is flexing with every pull. His abs are glistening, his skin slick with sweat. His thumb smears a fresh bead of precum over the flushed, velvet head until it gleams, dripping onto his knuckles.
You bite your lip hard, heat twisting through your belly, your shorts already sticking damp between your thighs.
His moan rips through the line, a guttural, animal sound.
You whisper his name, your voice low, trembling, and possessive. "... I really want you in my mouth."
His head snaps back against the pillow, a broken curse ripped from his lungs. "If I had you here? I’d fuck that throat till you cried. Till you gagged around me and begged for air. I’d hold your head and make you take every fucking inch."
You hum, a low, taunting vibration. "You’re not tough enough for that."
That pulls a dark, dangerous laugh from him. His hand works faster, the veins straining down his forearm. "Say that shit again. I’d hold your face down and shove my dick so deep you’ll feel me in your chest. I’ll make you swallow every drop."
Your thighs squeeze together, wetness soaking through the crotch of your shorts. "All talk. You’d fold the second it touched my tongue."
He groans, deep and pained. "God, you drive me fucking insane." His breath stutters, then—"Take your bra off for me. Now."
You tilt your head, slow and teasing. "You want a show?"
"Take it off." His voice is rough, a plea threaded with a hard command.
You hook your fingers into the lace, slipping it down your shoulders, letting it fall. Your breasts sit full and heavy in the camera’s glow, your nipples tight and peaked in the cool air.
He chokes on his own breath. "God, look at you. Perfect. Fucking perfect."
Your fingers lift, tugging lightly at one nipple, rolling it between your fingers. "Like this, baby?"
His hand drags hard down his dick, the slick sound of it filling your ears. "Yeah—play with them for me. Pinch ‘em. Roll ‘em." His eyes roll back for a second, his mouth slack. "Fuck—I wanna cum all over those tits. Paint you, watch it drip down your stomach. You’d look so good messy with my cum."
You coo, your voice dirty and soft. "Yeah, baby? You wanna ruin me like that? Wanna cover me ‘cause I’m yours?" You pinch harder, moaning low. "Mmh, I’d let you do it however you want."
His hips jerk up into his fist, his cock flushed dark, thick, and veined. The head is shiny with slick, and your eyes stay locked on it, transfixed by the weight of him in his palm.
You whisper, almost reverent. "I can’t stop watching your hands. They're so big and veiny. So strong. You're twitching in your grip—look at you, baby. All that for me."
He groans raggedly, his fist slapping wetly down the length of his shaft. "All for you. Always for you." His voice cracks, desperate. "Squeeze 'em, touch your tits harder. Let me see you play with those pretty nipples."
You squeeze your breast, pinch your nipple harder, tugging it until you gasp, your eyes locked on his fist pumping. The sound of it—wet, obscene, skin slapping skin—is the only thing in the world.
"Fuck," he grits out, his voice frayed. "I’d drag you down and smear every drop over you. I wanna fill you up."
You laugh softly, mean but sweet. "Yeah? You’d mark me up? Cover me so everybody knows this pussy’s yours? Even though you’ll never get to fuck it?"
He groans, almost breaking under the weight of the tease. "Stop—don’t say that. I’d fuck you stupid, ma. I’d split you open. Make you cry for me."
You hum, stroking your breast with slow, deliberate circles. "I bet you would. But right now? All you’ve got is your hand. And me watching."
His grip tightens, his strokes becoming rough and fast. His stomach flexes, his breath tearing ragged from his chest. You lean close to the screen, your voice low and syrup-thick.
"Cum for me, baby."
He moans, a high, guttural sound.
"Yeah," you coax, squeeze your breast, shifting them again, "make a mess for me. Let me see you shoot it all over yourself. Come on. Show me how much you want me."
"Fuck—" His hips stutter up into his fist. Precum spills slick down his shaft, his knuckles shiny and wet.
"Begging you, sweetheart," you whisper, cruel and filthy. "Paint yourself for me. Cover that stomach, those big hands—show me what I do to you."
He chokes, his eyes squeezing shut, his jaw locked tight as his body begins to coil for the release. "M’close—oh fuck, I’m gonna—"
"Do it," you purr, sharp and commanding. "Cum for me, baby. Now."
His whole body jerks. A shout rips from his throat, raw and primal, as thick, hot ropes of cum spill over his hand, his chest, dripping down his stomach in heavy white streaks. He pumps through the release, groaning brokenly, the cum splattering messy and hot across his skin.
You sigh, watching the way it looks against his skin, your voice turning sweet again. "That’s it. Good boy. Look at that dick, dripping for me. You made such a mess."
He’s panting, ruined, his hand still twitching around his softening length. "Fuck... fuck, I love you."
You tilt the camera, watching him still sprawled—sweat dripping, stomach streaked with cum, hand twitching.
"Mmh," you hum, soft and wicked, "look what you did, baby. Got me all wet."
His head snaps up, eyes heavy but blazing. "Show me."
You smirk, slipping your hand under the waistband of your shorts, dragging the damp fabric aside. Glossy, honey-thick strings pull as you spread yourself open, the phone angled just enough to flash him a glimpse of your soaking wet center. "See that? All for you."
He groans, his chest heaving. "Touch it for me. Play with yourself—please, ma."
Your laugh is low and cruel. "Not a chance. You already got your show."
His jaw tightens, his voice rough. "Don't play with me. You don't let me watch, I'll make you beg next time. I'll make you sorry."
You lean close to the screen, your smirk sharp and triumphant. "Try me. You don't scare me, baby. I said no."
His fist curls against his stomach, frustration pouring through the camera. "Then... at least—fuck—at least let me listen. Please. Let me hear it."
You bite your lip, dragging your fingers slow through your slickness, making yourself whimper. "You’re nasty."
"Yeah," he rasps, desperate. "For you. Only for you."
You sigh, soft and sweet, pressing two fingers against your clit until your hips twitch. "Fine. You can listen. But that’s it. Just your ears."
Your moans slip out, low and syrupy, filling the line. His breath shudders at the sound, ruined but hungry again. Your fingers circle your clit, the wet, squelching sounds of your own pleasure bleeding into the line. You bite your lip, letting a whimper slip, knowing he’s eating every sound alive.
"That’s it," he rasps, his voice still raw from cumming. "Rub that pretty pussy for me. God, I wanna be there so bad—wanna hold your thighs open and eat you till you’re crying."
Your head tips back, your breath shaky. "Mghn—You talk so nasty, baby."
"You don’t even know," he grits out. "I’d spread you out and pound that pussy till you scream. I’d fuck you till you smell like me. I'd never let you leave the bed."
A moan rips out of you, high and breathless. Your fingers circle faster, your hips rolling up off the bed as the tension coils.
"You like that?" he groans. "Knowing how bad I want you? Tell me you’ll give it up one day. Tell me I’ll get to fuck you for real."
Your laugh cuts sharp and shaky. "N-No, baby. You’ll never have me like that."
He curses, a guttural sound of frustration. "Fuck. You’re killing me, ma."
Your moans rise, sharper now, your body coiling tight. "Keep talking. Don't stop."
He obeys, his voice a low, gravelly anchor. "I’d hold your hips down. Spit in your mouth while I fuck you raw. Fill you up and make you go for hours."
That does it—your back arches, your thighs clenching tight as your orgasm rips through you. A sharp cry tears from your throat, your fingers working frantically over your clit as waves of pleasure slam through your body. You gasp his name, shuddering and trembling, your juices dripping messy against your hand.
He groans raggedly, listening to the sound of your break like it’s gospel. "That’s it—fuck, that’s it. Cum for me. Good girl. Good fucking girl."
You collapse back, chest heaving, sweat dampening your skin. You let out a low, satisfied hum. "Oh, shit... see what you did? You made me cum, handsome."
His breath hitches on the other end, broken and reverent. "...I’d do anything to see that."
Your breathing slows, your chest still rising and falling heavy. Your fingers slip from your soaked folds, leaving a wet sheen on your thighs. The line is quiet except for the sound of you both catching your breath.
He’s the first to break it, his voice ragged. "Man... I swear, one day—"
You cut him off with a sweet, dismissive little laugh, curling back into your pillow and pulling the covers up. "Shh. Don’t start again."
The silence stretches, thick and heavy with the things he wants to say. You can feel the ache in his voice, how close he is to spilling confessions you aren't ready to hear. So you give him something else. Something cruel, but honest.
"Thank you," you murmur, soft and sweet. Almost tender. "I love you so much, baby."
The phone goes quiet. You can picture him—eyes wide, lips parted, his heart clenching around those words. You know exactly what you’ve done to him.
You smile to yourself, curling the blanket over your bare chest. "Good night."
And you hang up before he can even find his voice to answer.
