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pairing : michael jackson x maid's daughter!reader
wc : 6.2k
rating : fluff
era : 1970s (j5 through otw)
summary : you were never supposed to leave your portion of the house. the rules were simple: stay in your wing, don't wander, don't forget who you are and who they are. but seven years later you're on a balcony in the rain and michael is finally telling you what you've both known for years, like it's been eating him alive.
warnings : none really, slow burn, time skips, slight class difference & power imbalance, i introduced a pet rat named ben lol, mutual pining & jealousy, mild angst, emotional tension, angry rain confession, no use of y/n
playlist :
: ̗̀➛ the things we did last summer - jo stafford
: ̗̀➛ i’ve got a crush on you - ella fitzgerald
: ̗̀➛ tonight may have to last me all my life - nancy wilson
: ̗̀➛ be my baby - the ronettes
: ̗̀➛ i’ll be there - jackson 5
: ̗̀➛ just the way you are - billy joel
a/n: based on this request. i enjoyed writing this! i hope u like it :c
Encino, California — May 1971
The house smelled like fresh paint and somebody else's life. Like someone had just finished making a house into a home and you were arriving right at the tail end of it. That was the first thing you noticed when your mother led you through the side entrance of the Jacksons' new Encino home.
Your mother was not a small woman in any way that mattered, but she looked small that day, wearing her “good” blouse that she saved for job interviews and church, clutching the strap of her pocketbook with both hands. She had taken the housekeeping position three weeks earlier, after two other arrangements had fallen through and the landlord had made it clear the apartment on Crenshaw was no longer a possibility. Katherine Jackson had offered the live-in arrangement as part of the compensation—a comfortable suite right across the wing from the kitchen.
Your mother had cried a little, signing the papers. Not from sadness, but relief. You had been in the car and couldn't see her face, but you knew from the way she drove that something had been decided. We'll be fine here, she'd told you that night, while you sat on the edge of the motel bed and watched her pack. The Jacksons are a good family.
The suite was comfortable—there was a queen size bed, a dresser, a window that looked out on the backyard. You counted eight Jackson kids in the front hall, the onetime you'd been near enough to look. There was an oldest one, Rebbie, who was already married at the time and moved in with her husband. Now, the oldest one was a boy who was a grown adult, and the youngest still small enough to be carried. You had never in your life seen a family with so many members living under the same roof. Your mother said, "Stay in our part of the house, baby. We're here to work, not play. Don't mingle too much."
The first week you did not leave the kitchen wing except to use the bathroom down the hall. Before the move, you had checked six books out of the Inglewood library and arranged them on the windowsill in the order you planned to read them. You read A Wrinkle in Time in two sittings and started it again from the beginning, because the due dates were still three weeks away and there was literally nothing else to do. This was something your mother had always been adamant about. You would be educated, you would read. It was not a conversation.
Sometimes you could hear the house through the walls, it was rarely quiet. Even at two in the morning you would sometimes wake to the sound of a voice somewhere far above you and would lie still, listening to it until it stopped. That was the thing about that house, you heard music and vocals constantly. The way music happened in other houses, was either on the radio or from a record player at a respectable volume, but that was not the case at Hayvenhurst.
On your ninth day, Katherine put a stop to the kitchen-wing arrangement.
You were eating breakfast alone at the small table where the rest of the staff took their meals. Your book propped against a glass of orange juice and a bowl of oatmeal next to it. Katherine appeared in the doorway in her housecoat and looked at you which made you sit up straight.
"How old are you?" she asked, caressing the back of your head gently.
"Thirteen, ma'am."
"Come eat with the family," she said. It was not phrased as an invitation. "From now on, at the long table. You sit near Michael and Randy, they're close enough to your age."
"My mother said—"
"I know what your mother said," Katherine said, and she wasn't unkind about it. "Come on now, bring your bowl."
So you reluctantly did.
The long table was exactly that—long, dark wood, with a bench on one side and mismatched chairs on the other, and it sat more people than you had ever eaten a meal with in your life. You learned their names by sitting there. Jackie who was the oldest, barely looked up from his plate. Tito was the quiet one, you could tell even on the first day. Jermaine made you nervous in a way you couldn't explain to yourself. Marlon was the one who asked your name first. La Toya smiled at you once and Randy talked the entire meal about something to do with a bicycle but nobody really listened. At the head of the table sat a man you understood immediately to be the father and you did not look at him for long. Janet was next to Katherine on the bench, still being fed, spoonfuls of something you couldn't see.
Michael was harder to place. He came to the table sometimes and sometimes didn't. He had big, dark eyes and a face that was still soft with from his young age. He had a way of saying please that sounded like he meant it, which distinguished him from most people you'd met. You exchanged, in that first month, perhaps only a dozen words.
Pass the rolls, please.
Thank you.
The butter, if you don't mind.
A few weeks later, you heard about it before you saw it: Michael brought in a rat. He had found it or been given it or in some other way acquired it, and had named it Ben. He had brought it into the house in the pocket of his jacket, and when the fact of the rat became known there was a response of significant volume from his brothers and considerably more volume from the sisters. The upshot was that Ben should be confined to Michael's room only.
You knew all of this because you were sitting in the kitchen doing homework when Marlon walked through saying there is a rat in this house, I'm telling you right now, there is a living rat in this house and went out the back door to cool off. That made you giggle but now you were curious about the rat.
You had never had a pet of any kind. Your mother did not believe in pets, which was a belief rooted in the conviction that anything you loved too much would eventually require either money you didn't have or grief you couldn't afford. But you had also read enough to know that small animals were frequently more interesting than their size suggested, and that people who loved animals were often more interesting than people who didn't. That made you curious about Michael as well.
So at dinner, you started to notice Michael more carefully. Waiting for him to mention something, anything about Ben at all. Nobody brought it up, which suggested it had been established as a territory no one wanted to enter. But every so often, in a lull between one conversation and the next, you would see something cross his face. His eyes wandering off as he picked at the food in his plate and a smile threatening to tug at his lips but it was gone before anyone else noticed it. That was the expression of someone trying not to look like they were thinking about something that made them happy. You did the same thing sometimes when thinking about your favorite book, or the afternoons in the park near your old apartment.
You saw Ben for the first time on a Saturday in November.
Your mother was cleaning the upstairs. Stripping linens, wiping down baseboards, the weekly deep-cleaning that was her specialty, and you had been asked to bring fresh towels to the rooms as she finished them. You knocked on doors that were closed, left towels on hooks and handles of rooms that were empty.
Michael's door was the last one on the right.
You knocked.
"Come in," he said.
You pushed the door open and immediately registered two things: Michael sitting cross-legged on his bed with a book open in his lap, which you had expected, and a small rat asleep on his shoulder, which you had not.
"I have towels," you said, because you needed to say something.
"You can put them on the dresser," he said.
You put them on the dresser. Then, because you could not come up with anything else: "What's his name?"
"Ben," he said.
"From the movie?"
He was curious now. "You watched it?"
"I read about it." You turned around. The rat had woken up, you realized, and was now regarding you with small bright eyes. "I didn't get to see it. We were—we moved a lot. I missed some things." You crossed the room and looked at Ben at closer range. He was smaller than you'd expected.
"He likes you," Michael said.
"How can you tell?"
"He usually hides when he doesn't like someone."
You stood there with a rat investigating your finger and thought about the fact that you had just exchanged more words with Michael than in the entire previous five months.
"Your brothers don't like him," you said.
"No."
"That doesn't bother you?"
He thought about that for a moment, like he was trying to come up with a good answer. "No," he said. "They don't have to like him. He's not their friend."
That made complete sense to you. "I think he's fascinating," you said.
Michael smiled and it changed his face completely, he looked at you again with a twinkle in his eyes. "Most people think he's gross and they get scared."
"They don’t know him,” you said. You put the towels on the dresser and left. But you thought about that smile of his for the rest of the day.
1973
By the end of the second year you could navigate the house in the dark by feel alone. You knew the creak on the third step of the main stairs and learned to step wide of it. You knew which bathroom on the second floor had a door that stuck in humid weather. You had, by this point, read every book in the house's half-organized library—Katherine had said you were welcome to it early on. The shelves were more decorative than anything, books arranged by size in some places and by nothing at all in others, spines uncracked on most of them. Nobody in that house was much of a reader except Michael, but Michael kept his books in his room. He had his own small shelf that you had never been invited to and would not presume to ask about. So you worked through what was available.
The boredom was physical. It lived in your shoulders, in your hands, in the agitation of feet that want to be somewhere else. You were fifteen, and the world outside the house was enormous and inaccessible to you, and the world inside was fascinating and absolutely not yours.
You couldn't sit still. Your skin felt too tight. You had read every book in the house twice over, finished your summer assignments in the first two weeks of June, and spent the remaining weeks of July and August in a state of persistent desire to walk through doors you weren't supposed to open. You wanted to go somewhere. But there was nowhere to go.
One night in August, at approximately half past midnight, you got out of bed. You told yourself it was because you couldn't fall asleep, but it was more than that. You wrapped yourself in a cardigan and left the kitchen wing.
The service corridor led to the main hallway, and the main hallway stretched both ways—toward the front of the house with its formal rooms and its dark windows facing the street, or toward the back and the stairs and the ascending strangeness of rooms you had walked past or entered only for work. You went up the stairs slowly, lifting your feet carefully, placing your weight on the outside of each step where the wood was least likely to complain.
The second floor hallway was dark except for one exception. A thin gold line under a door at the far end, light from a room that was supposed to be dark at this time. You knew whose room it was. You did the reasonable thing, which was to stop at the top of the stairs and intend to turn around. You thought it was the most reasonable thing to do because what if someone opened the door and—
Then the door opened.
He was in an undershirt and pajama pants, barefoot, his hair a little messy from whatever it had been in during the day. He had a book in one hand—his finger still between the pages, holding his place—and the expression on his face was not startled exactly, but genuinely puzzled.
You were frozen solid. Your hands were at your sides, your feet were not moving and you were aware with great clarity, that you had no reasonable explanation for standing in this hallway at half past midnight.
"You good?" he asked.
"I was looking for the bathroom."
He looked at you and then down the hallway, which contained at its other end, a very visible bathroom. He looked back at you.
Then he laughed the way he usually does, covering his mouth.
You felt your face go hot and your own mouth curve upward against your will, the helpless response of embarrassment curdling into something else.
"The bathroom," he said between giggles, "is the other way."
"I know, I was going there." you said.
"I figured."
Now, you were waiting for him to stop laughing. It was becoming humiliating at this point.
"I couldn't sleep," you said finally.
He nodded, like this answered something more than the original question. "Me either. Happens a lot."
"Yeah," you said. "I hear you sing sometimes at night."
He was quiet for a second. "Does it bother you?"
"Not at all, I think you should pursue it professionally." you said jokingly.
"You think so?" he said, like he was genuinely weighing it. "I wasn't sure."
You were glad he was playing along with your horrible joke. Then he pursed his lips to keep himself from bursting into laughter again and stepped back from the door, opening it wider.
"You can come in," he said. "If you want. I'm just reading."
You stood in the hallway for one full second, internally negotiating between your two personas. The person who followed the rules and the person who had gotten out of bed at midnight to walk around a house that wasn't hers. The fifteen-year-old rebellious you decided to go with the latter.
You sat on the floor with your back against the bed because that's where the lamp was and it seemed less strange than the desk chair. Michael sat cross-legged opposite you with his book balanced on his knee, and for a few minutes neither of you said anything and this was somehow not uncomfortable.
"What are you reading?" you asked.
He turned the book so you could see the cover. The Little Prince.
"I've read that," you said.
"The fox?" he said, which was a question and also a test.
"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly—" you said.
"—What is essential is invisible to the eye." He smiled.
You settled more comfortably against the bed. "I like that it's a book for children that isn't actually for children."
"All the best ones are like that," he said.
"The Phantom Tollbooth."
"Yes. And Charlotte's Web."
"Stuart Little."
"Where The Red Fern Grows," he said. "Because of the ending."
"I cried reading that one," you admitted.
He looked at you with a different expression than he'd had at dinner tables and in hallways. Something more open. "I cried too," he said. "Don't tell anyone."
You laughed, quiet so as not to wake anyone. He laughed too, and the room felt different after that.
You went back to the kitchen wing at four that morning, moving fast and careful down the dark stairs, and you lay in your bed and looked at the ceiling and felt, for the first time in two years, not lonely.
After that, midnight became a country you governed together. It had laws, like countries do. The first law was that neither of you spoke about it in daylight. The second law was that you always came to him, because your room was the easier departure point. The third law, which was never stated but was understood by both parties, was that in his room you could say things that would not have made sense anywhere else.
You began to learn the shape of him. You expected the gravity of the stage and fame, expected him to be the serious boy who sang with everything he had, and he was that boy absolutely; but he was also someone who found things helplessly funny. Who would begin to explain something and start laughing in the middle of it, who would catch your eye across the dinner table when something absurd happened and then have to look away because he knew you were both going to lose it.
You also learnt that he was lonely. It was the first thing you recognized almost immediately because you were lonely too, but his loneliness was different from yours. He was lonely in the middle of crowds, in the middle of stages, in the middle of rooms full of people who loved him in an abstract way and had very little access to him. He had his family, and he loved them, and they loved him back, but it was not enough. You learnt that he got a lot of love, but love at a distance doesn't keep you warm. What he wanted was so simple it made your chest hurt a little to think about it. Someone to sit with him on the floor at midnight. Someone to let him talk about the things he loved without watching the clock. Someone who wanted to be in the same room as him for no reason that could be written down or explained or justified. Not for what he could do, what he had, or what his name meant to the rest of the world.
And without realizing, that’s exactly what you became to him.
The following spring, Michael gave you flowers. When you came to his room one night, there was a small bunch of things from the garden sitting in a glass of water on his nightstand—jasmine mostly, some lavender, a sprig of something yellow you didn't know the name of.
"I thought jasmine might be your favorite," he said.
"How did you know that?"
"You always stop at the fence and smell it before you go inside," he said.
You had not known he'd seen that. So he walked over to you and tucked a piece of jasmine in your hair. You could tell he was looking at it fondly; but you did not say anything about that because your cheeks were burning and you did not want to scare that boy away by saying something stupid.
Your mother noticed the jasmine the next morning and asked whether you'd been picking flowers from the garden.
"No," you said. "Someone gave it to me."
She looked at you for a moment longer than usual. "Be careful," she said, which could have meant many things, and you chose to understand it as the most harmless one.
"Mrs. Jackson spoke to me today," she said. “Something about you and Michael spending time together in his room.”
Your stomach dropped through the chair and the floor and the kitchen below it and somewhere into the earth. "Mother, I can explain—"
She used your full name, which meant this was serious. Then said, "She's not upset."
You stopped. "She's not?"
"She says Michael has been—" Your mother paused, choosing her next words. "Happy. Happier than she's seen him. She wanted me to know that she doesn't mind. She was kind about it, baby. She was very kind."
"I wasn't doing anything wrong," you said. "We just talked. We just—"
"I know." Your mother set down her tea. "But I want you to be careful," she said finally.
"Not because he's a bad boy, he seems like a good boy. But because you are my daughter and this is their house, and I need you to understand the difference between us and them."
"I do understand it, mother," you said looking down.
"Then understand it every day," she said. "Not just today."
You nodded. She reached across and took your hand and held it once, briefly, and let go.
After that the midnight arrangement was not a secret, it simply became known to everyone else in the house that you and Michael were now friends. To other family members, you were still you. Still just someone with a name. But it mattered less when you noticed the jasmine on your windowsill was always morning-fresh, which meant you were the first thing he thought of before the house was even awake. Every day. You were the first thing.
1976
By 1976, Hayvenhurst had stopped feeling like the Jackson house. You weren't sure exactly when it happened—there was no single morning you woke up and thought this is home now. The biggest surprise was your mother. She had come into this house five years ago with her back straight and her rules firm and a very clear map of what this arrangement was and was not permitted to become. She had drawn the lines early and communicated them without sentimentality because she loved you and because sentiment, in her experience, was something people in your position could not always afford. She stopped asking where you'd been when you came in late. She stopped reminding you to come straight back after dinner. When you mentioned Michael in conversation she no longer got that particular careful and worried look on her face.
After that her warnings changed. She had stopped saying don't spend too much time over there. Now she said don't stay up all night again. She had stopped saying remember whose house this is. Now she said take a sweater, the balcony gets cold, which meant she knew exactly where you were going. She had stopped saying remember who you are and who they are. She had not replaced that one with anything but had simply stopped saying it. Your mother had decided Michael was a good boy. She asked after him when he was traveling. When he was sick once, briefly, a bad throat from too many late rehearsals, she brought him tea with honey and lemon without anyone requesting it and when he thanked her she waved it off saying of course, what else would I do, and you had stood in the doorway watching this and had to leave before either of them saw your face.
Now that the both of you were eighteen, you had started noticing him differently sometime in the past year and hated yourself for it. His face had changed, it had been changing for a while. Sharpening into something that was no longer the face of the boy in the hallway but something older and more defined, the jaw and the cheekbones and the eyes that had always been large and dark but now caught light differently, and his voice had settled and his shoulders had gotten broader. He still had the shy smile, still covered his mouth when he laughed, still sat cross-legged on the floor with a book like a child, but strangers looked at him now in a way that was categorically different from how they had looked at him before and you were aware of this every single time it happened.
You were aware of it when girls waited outside the gates of Hayvenhurst whenever he left the house.
You were aware of it when female celebrities, sometimes twice his age, flirted with him endlessly on national television.
You were aware of it when the fan mail arrived, which it did constantly, in quantities that required sorting. A few years ago, the letters had been mostly harmless. Girls your age writing in round handwriting about how cute he was, how much they loved his voice, how they had kissed his poster goodnight. You had found this funny.
By the time he turned nineteen, it was not funny anymore.
The envelopes started arriving heavier, more perfumed, some of them sealed with lipstick kisses pressed directly onto the paper in shades of red and pink that struck you as obscene. Who are these girls? Why do they think it’s okay to send this? You thought to yourself. The handwriting changed—less round and careful, more deliberate, more adult. The return addresses were from women who were not girls your age. Some of them were not girls at all.
You were in the kitchen one afternoon when you heard Michael in the next room say, with complete genuine puzzlement, "Marlon, what does this mean? Why is there—what is—"
"What? Spit it out, Michael!" Marlon said in a frustrating tone. The two brothers were reading their fan mail that accumulated over the course of a week. All envelopes were of different sizes, some were even packaged boxes of something you didn’t even want to know.
"Looks like.. measurements of some sort? She says I'm five-foot six, thirty-six..twenty-four..thirty—"
Marlon's eyebrows shot up toward his hairline in amusement. "Oh brother, she got the tape measure out and everything. Let me see!" He lunged across the couch.
"Why is she sending me her measurements?!" Michael asked, hiding the letter behind his back to keep Marlon from taking it away.
"She wants you to know what she’s working with, basically."
"How did United States Postal Service even allow this to come through? She also has a phone number at the bottom.." Michael folded the letter and put it back into the envelope. Not interested in reading it any further.
"If you're throwing it away, pass it over." Marlon said, half jokingly.
You had made the mistake of hearing that conversation and didn't want to hear any further. You told yourself this was about respecting Michael's privacy and not about the fact that knowing what girls thought about him made you feel something cold and ugly deep inside. You knew you were lying. You were extremely jealous, had been for longer than you wanted to admit. What you didn't know was that he was feeling his own version of the same emotions.
It started with the neighbor's son who had come home from college for the summer. He was tall and handsome, looked like one of the college jocks who spent their summers outdoors partying and having fun. Randy, Marlon and him were going back and forth under the hoop while you had been reading, mostly, glancing up occasionally whenever there was movement nearby. You were sitting on the porch steps with a book, which was where you often ended up on warm afternoons. A shaded spot, close enough to the garden that you could smell the jasmine, far enough from the kitchen that no one could find you with a task.
Upstairs, Michael had wandered over to the front window without really meaning to. Bill found him there eventually, standing with one shoulder against the frame, watching the game below with far more concentration than the score seemed to warrant. He came to stand beside him, following Michael's gaze until he spotted exactly what had caught his attention.
"You know you're staring," Bill observed.
Michael didn't answer immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the driveway where the neighbor's son had just peeled his T-shirt off and thrown it over the porch railing before calling for the ball again.
"I just think," Michael said at last, "you don't have to be shirtless to play basketball."
Bill looked out the window again, then back at him.
"It's seventy-four degrees."
"It's not that warm."
"You're telling me you've never taken your shirt off to play?"
"Not in somebody else's front yard," Michael said. "And certainly not with the ladies of the house sitting right there. I don’t like boys like him, you don’t know what they’re after."
Bill let out a short laugh. "Michael, the boy's been here twenty minutes. So far he's only played basketball and nearly tripped over the garden hose. I'd hardly call that suspicious."
Michael frowned without taking his eyes off the yard. "You don't know what boys our age are like."
Bill turned to look at him. "...Michael. You are boys your age."
Michael finally looked away from the window, as though that technicality had never occurred to him. "I'm talking about the other ones. You know that."
Bill laughed so hard he had to step away from the window.
1978
What nobody told you about falling in love with your best friend was that it would happen in the most mundane possible moments. It started much earlier, but you refused to acknowledge it until Michael tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear because the wind was blowing it in your face while you were trying to read. When he realized he did it without thinking, he went absolutely still with his fingers still near your jaw, both of you frozen.
"Sorry," he said.
You couldn't look at him. "It’s okay."
"Okay," he said quietly.
You stared at the same paragraph until the words dissolved into nonsense. He stayed perfectly still beside you, like he was afraid any shift might break whatever fragile thing had just passed between you. Eventually you both pretended to return to what you’d been doing—him with his sketchbook and you with your book.
Your face stayed warm for the rest of the evening. At dinner you caught him looking at you twice, and both times he glanced away first, ears faintly pink. That night you sat on the edge of your bed in the dark, hands pressed to your flushed cheeks, and thought it clearly for the first time, I’m in love with him.
Michael was twenty years old and the world was starting to pull at him harder than ever. The brothers were still together, but the cracks were showing. He spent more and more time away from Hayvenhurst—in studios with Quincy Jones, listening to new sounds, pushing boundaries the rest of the family wasn’t ready for. Late nights turned into early mornings. You watched him leave for meetings in crisp shirts and come back buzzing with ideas he could barely contain, eyes bright, hands moving as he explained concepts you only half-understood.
You were happy for him but also terrified. The more the world wanted him, the less this house—and you—seemed to fit inside his future.
One October evening, it had been raining since dusk—a relentless California storm that turned the backyard into a dark blur. You told yourself you were just checking if the windows in the sunroom were closed, but your feet carried you toward the back staircase like they always had.
You found him on the second-floor balcony off the family room, the one that overlooked the garden. He was soaked. Shirt clinging to his shoulders, curls heavy with rain, leaning on the railing like he was trying to decide whether to climb over it or not.
"Michael," you called softly.
He didn’t turn around at first. When he did, his eyes were fierce.
"You shouldn't be out here," he said.
"Neither should you."
Rain drummed against the roof, against the leaves, against the wooden railing.
"I'm leaving soon," he said finally. "For good. Not just for a tour. For…everything maybe. Quincy wants me to do my own thing. My own album. My own sound." He laughed, but there was no joy in it. "Joseph thinks I'm crazy for throwing everything away."
You stepped closer and rain immediately soaked through your shirt. "You're not crazy."
"I know that," he snapped. "But I don't know if I can do it without…" Michael turned fully toward you. Water ran down his face. His eyes—those huge, expressive eyes—were shining with something wild and angry and scared.
"Without you," he said, and it came out like an accusation.
You froze.
“I’ve tried,” he continued, voice rising over the rain. “God knows I’ve tried to keep it like it was. Just friends. But I can’t anymore. Every single time I leave this house, all I think about is getting back to you. I'll be sitting in the studio, Quincy will be talking, everybody's working, and somehow..." He clenched his fists in frustration. "...somehow I end up wondering if you're on the balcony. If you've eaten. If you're waiting up."
He looked away for a second, swallowing hard.
"I'll write something I love, and the first person I want to play it for is you. Something good happens..." He laughed again, "...I want to tell you before anybody else. Something goes wrong..." He shook his head. "I want you."
The rain had become heavier now, soaking through both of you.
"And I'm angry." His voice rose slightly. "I'm so angry because I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that." He took another step until there was barely any space left between you.
"I've got this chance—this one chance I've wanted my whole life—and every day it feels like it's pulling me farther away from the only person I've ever wanted to come home to."
"I hate leaving you here." His breathing had become uneven and his eyes were shining now, though whether from the rain or something else, neither of you could tell.
"And I hate..." His voice broke completely. "...I hate that after everything I've worked for... after everything I've dreamed about..." He shook his head helplessly. "None of it feels complete if you aren't in it."
The rain swallowed the silence. You couldn't speak.
You had imagined this moment a hundred times—always in secret, always right before sleep when your imagination was kinder than reality. In every version, it had been soft. Never with him standing in front of you like his heart had been torn open and left bleeding in the storm.
"You don't have to say anything," he whispered.
The anger had drained out of him, leaving only exhaustion. "I just…" He swallowed hard, shaking his head as his eyes dropped to the soaked floorboards between you. "I've spent so long pretending this wasn't happening that I don't know how to stop. I couldn't leave without you knowing."
Michael dragged a hand down his face. His voice was barely audible beneath the rain. "One day you were the girl who sat on my bedroom floor reading books with me and then somehow you became the first person I look for every morning. The last person I think about before I fall asleep."
He stepped closer, rain trembling on his lashes.
"I don't know when it happened. I only know it happened to me."
Your chest ached with the weight of every unsaid thing you’d carried for years. You decided to reach for his hand, fingers interlocking with his—warm despite the cold rain. He looked down at your hand like it had answered every prayer he’d ever been afraid to speak.
When his eyes lifted again, they were glassy.
"So I wasn't imagining it," he breathed.
You shook your head, tears mixing with the rain. "I've loved you for so long, Michael… that I don't remember what it felt like before."
He stared at you, stunned.
"I love you. I'm in love with you," you said again, clearer this time, voice breaking.
Something inside him finally shattered. Michael rested his forehead against yours with relief. Your noses brushed.
"I love you too," he whispered, the words raw and reverent against your lips. "God, I love you. I've loved you for years." He said it like the confession had been waiting his whole life to be set free.
"So many years…" he murmured.
"So many." You repeated.
His hand came up slowly, brushing rain-soaked strands of hair from your face exactly the way he had months ago on that same balcony. This time he didn’t apologize, his thumb lingered on your cheek.
"Is this okay?" he asked softly.
You leaned into his touch and that was all he needed.
He kissed you—first so gently it was barely a kiss at all, just the softest press of his lips to yours. Then deeper, surer, seven years of almosts melting away. His hand slid behind your neck, yours fisted in his soaked shirt, holding on like the storm might still try to tear you apart.
When you finally parted, foreheads still touching, neither of you opened your eyes. For the first time in years, coming home meant the same thing for both of you.
❤︎ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ after party pillowtalk
⸝⸝ off the wall era michael jackson x fem reader
│ summary: your best friend happens to be renowned successful photographer who got invited to an all exclusive party at club 54, where many were celebrating the release of michael jackson's album "Off the Wall." luckily for you, she invites you as her plus one to come mingle among the high and mighty as a recent normal college graduate looking for some fun. that fun just so happens to be michael jackson himself.
│ byi: 18+ (nsfw - smut!) phone sex, male masturbation, female masturbation, (mutual masturbation)
│ a/n: i was originally gonna make this 2 parts but i kinda got carried away, and im still not happy with this, i rewrote it a gazllion times but i hate it!
│ w/c: 3.8k (if there's spelling errors- no there isn't)
"Jenny, are you sure about this?" you asked, tugging nervously at the hem of your shirt as the two of you stood outside the glittering entrance to Studio 54. The line stretched down the block, pulsing with bass you could already feel in your chest.
Jennifer flashed you that confident, million-dollar smile of hers, camera bag slung over her shoulder. "Relax, babe. You're with me. Nobody's gonna card you or question you when you're my plus-one. Besides, you look hot. Those jeans are doing wonders, trust me." She winked, patting your butt two times before looping her arm through yours and pulling you toward the velvet rope.
Your friend Jennifer had landed and excellent internship a year ago for photography in Africa, and after the company posted her photos and credited her for every picture, they were plastered on almost every magazine out there and caught the attention of the biggest names in the industry. Now she was one of the most sought-after event photographers in New York, and tonight that meant Studio 54 was hers to capture.
You had barely just graduated college as an undergraduate a few months ago, still figuring out what came next. Late nights studying mixed with part-time jobs had left you feeling like an ordinary girl in a world that suddenly felt very glamorous. But Jennifer insisted you deserved a night to celebrate too.
After showing her photocard that hung from her neck to the bouncer in the back, and explaining that you were her plus one, the two of you were waved inside without a second glance. The heavy doors closed behind you, and suddenly you were swallowed by the magic of Studio 54.
Whatever you had imagined previously paled in comparison to the real thing. The air was thick with perfume, cigarette smoke, and pure electricity. Lights flashed in every color, sweeping across the packed dance floor. Music pulsed so loudly through the speakers, you could feel the vibrations in your chest. Celebrities were everywhere—faces you'd only seen in newspapers and on TV—dancing, laughing, living their most glamorous lives.
You felt like the black sheep in a herd of peacocks. However, Jennifer was in the zone, confidently working the room, snapping shots of unsuspecting people just doing their own thing.
Upon reaching a booth full of some celebrities you could name at the top of your head—Diana Ross and Quincy Jones, Jennifer introduced you with ease.
Jennifer sat casually on one of the armrests right next to Diana Ross, "Heyyy, how you two doing tonight? This is my best friend—she's joining us tonight because she's never been to one of these before!"
You smiled shyly, exchanging pleasant hellos while your heart raced. "Well, for good reason." You smiled meekly, clasping your hands in front of yourself. Way to seem so cool, you thought. These guys probably just thought you were mooching off your best friends' success to be invited to these kinds of things.
"Well hey, since I'm here, wanna get a couple of shots of you three together?" Jennifer suggested brightly, already lifting her camera lens to her face.
You posed awkwardly for a few photos with the legends, trying not to look too starstruck. After a bit more mingling and photos, Jennifer finally grabbed your hand. "Okay, enough of the professional stuff—let's go have some real fun!"
You followed with a very pale expression, "I can't believe I just got professional pictures done with Diana Ross and Quince Jones. Please tell me you're going to post those, I can so brag to my coworkers about them!"
Jennifer laughed and squeezed your hand. "Of course I will! Now come on, let's dance already!" She groaned, tugging you further into the crowd of people.
You both hit the dance floor, laughing and letting loose through several upbeat songs. For a little while, you forgot about feeling out of place. You let the music carry how you moved, the rhythm flowing through you with each sensational sway of your hips. You pretended you were the main character for just one night.
After a couple of songs, you were both worn out and breathless. Jennifer fanned herself. "Tell me that wasn't so much fun!"
You nodded, too breathless for words yourself.
Jennifer placed her hands on your shoulders to talk in your ear over the music. "I need to run to the bathroom real quick. Wait for me right outside the doors, okay? I'll be fast."
You nodded again, waving her to go off first, that you'll follow her. You made your way through the crowd and leaned against the wall near the restroom entrance, examining your nails, occasionally taking your teeth to the skin around them.
You were so lost in your task, you weren't really paying attention to those around you, and accidentally got bumped into. You almost lost your footing when a hand grabbed your upper arm to pull you back upright. "Oh my goodness, darling I'm so, so sorry. Are you alright?"
You could recognize that british accent anywhere. Snapping your neck up to look at the perpetrator, it was none other than Elton John himself.
Your eyes widened. "I—I'm fine! Really, it's okay," you stammered, cheeks burning.
"Look what you did you twat, almost knocking the poor girl off her feet." Another english voice emerged from behind Elton, one you also knew all too well. Rod Stewart slapping his friend Elton on the back with a tight smile towards you.
Your mouth dropped to the floor, hands clenching at your sides. "Oh wow— You're—"
Elton rolled his eyes, turning to look at Rod. "Don't you start with me because we both know how this is going to end. Spoiler, it's not pretty."
You couldn't help but laugh softly at their playful bickering. Elton gave you a kind, apologetic smile and grabbed Rod by the back of his neck forcing him to walk the other direction with him.
You barely had time to register everything that just happened before another voice spoke up right behind you, "Excuse me… those jeans really are incredible."
You whirled around on your heels and everything else faded away.
Michael Jackson stood there. Glowing under the club lights. Soft fro framing his face. He wore a sleek navy-blue vest over a crisp red and purple striped shirt, and those big, expressive brown eyes met yours.
Your heart slammed against your ribs. Michael Jackson. The Michael Jackson. You were a huge fan. Actually, you were the biggest fan. And screw everyone else who claimed to be.
"O—Oh my gosh, you're... I'm— You're—" You caught yourself, forcing a deep breath and trying desperately to play it cool even as your head wanted to start screaming and jumping up and down. "Hi. I mean… wow. Hi."
He gave a gentle, bashful laugh, adorably way that made your knees feel weak. "Hi. I'm Michael." His voice was soft and warm, like he was just as nervous as you were.
You nodded before you spoke. "How could I not know who you are?"
"I guess my albums have been everywhere." He said shyly, dragging his foot across the tile floor. He then quickly looked up at your through his lashes. "N—Not to brag or anything."
You couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound warm. "No bragging at all. Off the Wall has been on repeat in my apartment for weeks. It's incredible. Really." You tried to keep your voice steady, but the fan-girl inside you was doing backflips. Still, talking to him felt surprisingly natural.
Michael's cheeks flushed a little, but his smile grew brighter. "I'm honored."
The conversation flowed like you'd known each other for years. You told him about graduating college a few months ago and still figuring life out. He listened with sincere curiosity, sharing his own thoughts about the whirlwind success of the album.
You fiddled with the hem of your shirt between your fingers, peering up at him with the best sultry look you could, "So, Michael, are you usually this sweet on the ladies?"
Michael's eyes widened for a second, a surprised laugh escaping him as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Me? Sweet? I… I don't know about that," he said, his voice soft and a little flustered. "I just… I like talking to people who feel real. And you feel really real." He tried to hide the smile that was forcing its way to his face but failed miserably.
The way he looked at you made your stomach flip. Out of all the people in this glittering, larger-than-life club, Michael Jackson was looking at you like you were the most interesting person in the room. The connection was instant and deep—like long-lost soulmates finally finding one another.
Then the opening beats of "Get on the Floor" hit the speakers.
Your eyes lit up. "This is my favorite!"
Michael's face broke into the brightest smile. "Really? Mine too!" He paused for a moment, looking back to the crowd of people rushing to hit the dance floor, then offered his hand to you, "Come dance with me?"
You took his hand without hesitation. His grip was gentle as he led you onto the floor. He was graceful and full of energy, but he kept being silly—doing funny dance moves that made people turn their heads and laugh at him.
But above all, Michael was in his element. He danced like there was no one watching, like the music just poured right into him, and he was releasing that energy right back out.
You danced together like it was the most natural thing in the world, the chemistry between you electric and effortless. You laughed until your sides hurt, spinning and moving in sync as if you'd done this a thousand times before.
You were lowkey throwing it back on him during the slower parts—feeling the heat of his body close behind you. Surprisingly, but also not so surprisingly, Michael didn't say anything but matched your pace, basically letting you do whatever while his hands stayed respectfully off of you.
When the song faded and the smooth, romantic melody of "Reunited" by Peaches & Herb began to play, you sarcastically said, "I suppose you don't want to slow dance, huh?"
"Actually… I'd really like that," he said, his hands hovering and stopping right next to your waist, fully serious. You smiled, stepping into him as he gently pulled you closer.
You put both of your hands around his neck, while his found themselves on your waist. Your bodies fit perfectly.
Around you, everyone found their own partners to waltz around slowly to the song, but it felt like the rest of the club had faded into the background. It was just you and Michael.
You looked around, before looking back up at Michael through your lashes. Completely at a loss for words for the fifth time tonight.
Michael smiled, his cheeks heating up, "What? Don't look at me like that."
You bit your lip, trying (and failing) to hide your smile. "Like what?" you teased softly, even as your heart raced.
"Like… like you're seeing right through me," he admitted quietly.
He was so sweet, so adorable, you felt your heart melting. The night felt like pure magic.
When the song finally faded into another upbeat disco track, you stayed close for a few more moments, neither of you quite ready to let go.
After a few more tense awkward moments of staring deeply into each other's eyes, Michael finally let go, clearing his throat.
"C—Can I call you sometime?" he asked shyly, pulling out a small notepad. "I'd really love to keep talking to you. You made tonight feel so special."
Your eyes lit up and so did your entire face. No way, you thought.
"Of course!" You gave him your number, watching as he wrote it down carefully, a sweet smile on his face.
Just as Michael seemed like he was gonna confess his unyielding love for you (probably not), Jennifer popped in out of nowhere.
"There you are!" she exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as she looped her arm through yours. "I've been looking all over." She then looked over to see who you were talking to, "Michael!"
Michael gave her a polite, sweet smile. "Hey, Jennifer. Nice to see you again."
Jennifer's grin turned mischievous as she glanced between the two of you. "Oh, I see how it is. I leave you alone for five minutes and you steal the man of the hour?" She teased, nudging you playfully.
Michael rolled his eyes playfully, "Come on Jenny, it wasn't like that, really."
Your face deepened into a frown, "It wasn't?" You crossed your arms over your chest, pouting playfully.
Michael's eyes widened, a flustered laugh escaping him as reached out to touch your arm. "No, no! I mean— it was… I really enjoyed talking to you. It's just that she—"
You giggled, pushing him lightly, "I'm just messing with you, Michael!"
Michael let out a relieved laugh, his shoulders relaxing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "You got me," he admitted. "I thought I messed up already."
Jennifer watched the exchange with an amused smirk. "You two are adorable. But seriously, babe, it's getting late. Let's get you home before you have to explain to your boss why you were late tomorrow."
Michael nodded, his expression softening as he looked at you one last time. "It was really nice meeting you. I meant what I said—I'll call you soon."
You smiled, your heart still racing. "I'd like that. A lot."
The entire ride home, you couldn't stop smiling, replaying every moment in your head. After waving goodbye to Jennifer, and practically running up the stairs of your complex, you kicked the door open with the back of your foot, light streaming in only from the outside.
The TV was still faintly playing sound from today’s news, and the occasional fast car speeding down your empty street. You began to pluck your earrings off, and peeling off your jeans and shirt into some more comfortable soft pjs.
Upon brushing your teeth and leaving some wet food out for your cat, Candido, you faceplanted on your couch, tired enough to lay down, but still not enough to sleep in bed yet.
Just as you lifted your head to the side to blind yourself with the glare of the TV, your landline began to ring.
Your heart jumped. You knew it could only be one person this late.
You scrambled up, nearly tripping over your own feet as you rushed to answer.
"Hello?" you said, trying to sound casual.
"Hey… it's Michael." His voice was soft, like he was smiling on the other end. "I'm sorry, I hope I'm not calling too late."
"No, no, no, you're fine, I was just uh, watching TV." You sank back onto the couch, phone pressed tight to your ear, a giddy smile already spreading across your face.
Michael let out a soft, relieved laugh. "Good. I… I couldn't stop thinking about tonight. I had so much fun with you. Like, more than I've had in a long time."
Your stomach flipped. 'I had so much fun too. You’re even sweeter in person than I imagined." You twirled the phone cord between your fingers, the feeling all too familiar for a young teenage girl in high school. "The way you danced, the way you looked at me… I kept replaying it the whole ride home."
He got quiet for a second, then you heard that little chuckle. "You're gonna make me blush over the phone."
You bit your lip, shifting on the couch as heat shamefully pooled low in your belly. "Good thing, I hope."
Michael sighed through the phone deeply, "Of course."
The conversation turned easily, warm and flirty. You complimented him a lot—how sweet he was, how his smile made your heart race. Every time you did, he got more flustered, laughing softly and trying to deflect with "You're too nice to me" or "I'm just happy you had fun too."
Eventually, the tension thickened. You were the one who gently steered it there.
"You know Michael, I kept thinking about how warm your hands were." You murmured, voice dropping. "I wish you were here right now."
Michael's breathing hitched. "Yeah?" he said softly, flustered but clearly affected. "I… I wish I was there too."
"I'd do a lot of things if you were here, Michael."
Michael’s breathing quickened audibly on the other end. "Yeah?" he said softly, his voice already a little shaky. "Like… what?"
You smiled, shifting on the couch as heat spread through you. You kept your voice gentle, leading him slowly. "I'd sit you down on my couch, kiss your neck the way I wanted to when we were dancing. Feel your hands on my waist, maybe a little lower this time."
"That sounds… really nice," he whispered, voice trembling a little as he got more worked up.
"Yeah?" you murmured, voice low, but inside you were screaming. Who the heck were you to be so dirty with him? "You're so sweet, you know that? I didn't think you could be so gentlemanly."
Michael let out a soft, shaky breath. "I… I try to be," he whispered, voice already trembling a little.
"But I wouldn't mind if you weren't for a little bit," you murmured, voice low and teasing as you leaned back fully on the couch, your legs spreading just a little.
Michael let out a soft, shaky breath. "I...."
Silence. Just the occasional sigh through the other side of the receiver.
You could practically hear him blushing. You smiled gently, "Michael?"
"...Mhm?" His voice was so quiet you had to focus hard to hear it.
"Are you touching yourself?"
Michael let out a soft, embarrassed sound, almost a whimper. "I… yeah," he whispered, voice barely audible.
You smiled, sliding your hand down your stomach. "It's okay, Michael." You bit your lip as your fingers dipped under your sleep shorts, your middle finger pressing lovingly against that lovely bundle of nerves through your panties. "I'll do it with you, okay?"
He let out a shaky breath. “Okay… yeah. I… I don't really— I don't usually—"
You giggled again, "Mike, I told you, it's okay." You shifted a little, letting your panties and shorts fall to your ankles, your fingers now prodding and smearing your slick all over your heat. "If it helps, I'm really wet. And it's all because of you."
He whimpered softly, the sound so genuine and overwhelmed it made you throb.
You pressed firmly enough on your little nub and started slow circles, your breathing turning more ragged each time you spoke, "You sound so adorable honey."
Michael let out another soft, shaky whimper. "You're… you're making me feel so good," he whispered, voice trembling.
You let out a soft moan after pushing two fingers inside yourself, tenderly exploring your warm insides. "You gonna tell me what you look like? What it looks like?"
Michael sighed, but you could tell he was smiling, "You're so dirty!" He was silent for a moment, but caved—he let out a soft, embarrassed whimper. "I… I'm in my bedroom. Lying on my bed. I'm… I'm really— it's really hard..."
His voice was so shy and flustered it made you clench around your fingers. "Mmm, I bet you look so pretty like that. All flushed and shy for me. I'm so wet, Michael… fingering myself thinking about how you'd feel inside me."
He whimpered again, letting out a little squeak, "...Mhm... I… I'm stroking myself a little faster now. Is that okay?"
You nodded, biting your lip, but realized he couldn't have possibly seen that, "Mhm, yes— keep going, 'm so close baby..." You curled your fingers now, nudging that sweet spot inside, thumb circling your nub faster.
"You sound so cute when you get all shy like this. I'm imagining you on my bed, all flushed and hard for me... I'd make you feel so good."
Michael let out another soft whimper, "That sounds… You feel so good in my head."
You put everything into the pace of your fingers, slipping in and out of you with a perfect rhythm, the coil in your belly burning hot. "Michael.... Michael— I'm— 'm gonna come!" You whimpered into the receiver, which was now loosely gripped in your other hand.
He'd be lying if he said the sound of his name on your lips didn't go straight to his dick.
Michael let out a shaky whimper, breathing hard. "I… I'm close too," he admitted softly. "You sound so pretty like that…"
You came first, moaning his name as your walls clenched around your fingers, pleasure crashing over you in waves. Michael followed shortly after with a sweet, overwhelmed whimper of your name, "Oh— oh... baby I'm—" His spend covered his lower stomach and fingers in filthy little ribbons.
Afterward, the line was quiet for a moment except for your shared heavy breathing. Then Michael let out a breathless laugh. "Wow, that was— you were incredible. I don't think... I can't honestly say I've ever felt something as good as that."
You smiled, curling up on the couch, body still tingling and warm. "Me too. Not bad for our first "date."
Michael's face fell, "Awh, no— This can't be... Let me take you out proper. I— This isn't very gentlemanly of me..."
You giggled softly, "Michael, relax. I wanted it. And... I wouldn't mind a date." You twirled your finger around the cord of the receiver.
Michael let out a relieved sigh. "Good. Because I really want to see you again. Like, a real date. Dinner, maybe a walk… whatever you'd like. How about tomorrow?"
You bit the inside of your cheek, "Mmm, I work tomorrow honey."
Michael sighed, defeated, "Oh, okay... Uhm..." He thought for a hard moment, tapping his finger on his pillow, "How much do you get paid a day?"
You sat upright, confused, "What?"
Michael also sat upright, pulling out his checkbook from his nightstand, "I'll pay you double—no—tripple."
You burst out laughing, falling back onto the couch. "Michael! You can't just pay me to skip work!"
He chuckled on the other end. "Why not? I want to see you. And it's not like I can't afford it. Please? I'll make it worth your while. A nice dinner, maybe some more… just us."
You shook your head, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt. "You're ridiculous. I'm sure my boss wouldn't care too much if I called out sick."
Michael's voice lit up. "Really? Great! I'll call you in the morning to figure out the details. Sleep well, pretty."
"Goodnight, Michael." You placed the receiver back on the box of your landline, the line going dead. You squealed quietly, and immediately went to wash up in the bathroom.
For anybody not caught up: Tennessee just passed a new map that pretty much makes it so black neighborhoods have no power in local votes. Two things about this. While protestors were chanting "No Jim Crow", white Tennessee lawmakers were caught laughing on video. On top of this, Representative Justin Pearson and his brother KeShaun Pearson were arrested for trying to give their takes on the matter (which is not only their legal right but literally his job). If you give a shit about black people, help fight this. We can't allow a return to Jim Crow.
making 18+ works of characters who are not 18+ is weird asf and i'm tired of yall pretending it's not, it's borderline ephebophilia and it's disgusting.
on a similar note it's also gross when writers / artists age up a minor character purely for sexual purposes as the sexual attraction originated from a character that is a minor or presented as a minor.
megumi from jjk is a perfect example of this. I feel like I constantly see smut works of him that don't even try to pass it off as an age up, even more disgusting since he doesn't even appear in modulo or have a canon adult character.
writers / artists are shamelessly sexualizing minors and I don't see nearly enough people talking about it. this is as bad as it is because it can encourage pedophilia related thoughts / behaviors and can also make them seem easier to get away with since it is so minimized and rarely spoken on in this day and age.
please help me spread this message to make tumblr a safer community !!
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since when was it okay to bash writers based off of the content they make or the way they write? (obviously unless it’s incest/rape/pedophilia)
i’m personally pretty new to tumblr, but in the short few months i’ve been active, i’ve experienced so many amazing works and kind writers who don’t deserve a fraction of the things being said about them.
the burn book page that @/tojioffline has started is immature and defeats the entire purpose of this platform. what’s supposed to be a safe space for people to write and express themselves and their ideas has turned into a petty and judgmental environment.
if you have a problem with a writer or their content, all you have to do is block them, but in no way is it okay to bring down people that have already been brave enough to put themselves out there and share their work.
the fact that some people believe it’s okay to harass writers or send death threats is beyond me and should not be normalized. it’s okay to dislike something/someone, it’s NEVER okay to threaten their safety or make public, childish gossip just because they don’t align with your own preferences.
i urge anyone who sees this to report @/tojioffline for bullying and please, please support any writers you come across.
(in light of all this, here are some of my personal fav blogs)
they encourage cruelty behind the safety of being anonymous.
their claim about being innocent in this doesn’t count. YOU give them a platform to bully and downright being hateful. YOU encourage them and as consequence the haters will only become more bold to send their hate directly to the writer.
mental health. my god, i can’t stop mentioning that enough. you don’t know what a single person on these targeted blogs going through. people have killed themselves for less.
they create a culture of fear that also will affect smaller blogs and future writers.
valid criticism never goes unheard. yes, big blogs have a large following and many followers would defend them. but if there’s something really problematic about them then you’ll be heard and valid in calling them out. and until now i haven’t seen a valid point.
what we can do against these blogs:
usually after some time they run out of content to post or it’s always the same recycled shit.
BLOCK. DONT ENGAGE.
if you’re a big blog: DONT MAKE POSTS ABOUT THEM.
like that one blog did they send asks to the writers and hours later several posts about these blogs popped up. i get that you want to warn your followers, but as a consequence you lure the haters out of their holes.
inform your friends privately. maybe create a copy and paste private message. it’ll lead to a chain reaction without giving these blogs attention.
stay safe, my writer friends. if you want to talk my blog is a safe space.
rewatched amazing spider man 🤤 i dont think i can finish this.. as a matter of fact i dont think i can finish any piece these days!! but whatever! let's all look up to the night sky and wave to the astronauts
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Summary : Hiromi, your husband, has been paying less and less attention to you and more and more attention to his work. So what happens when his needy wife tests his limits and sees how much he can take before going feral for her?? Surely he'll give in quickly!! Or so you thought. How pent up was he?? How much stamina does he even have?? How determined is he to FUCK YOUR BRAINS OUT?!
Content [ MDNI!! ] : SMUT + FLUFF. fem!wife!reader, overworked!husband!Hiromi, stressed! Hiromi, teasing, lingerie, desk s, oral (fem rec.), tongue f, rough s, multiple orgasms, overstím, dúmbifícation, filthy s, slightly mean hiromi ( with apologies ), making it fit, hes talking you through it, cIit play, pússydrúnk higuruma, missionary, chokíng, manhandIing, pronebone, sIight níppIe stim, creampíes, cúmpIay, aftercare, pet names, swéaring.
Pairing : Hiromi Higuruma x Reader
Word Count : 3.7k
A/N : MY FIRST FIC YAY!!
I was sleepy and had work to do, so yes, I know this sucks, bear with me !!
(╥﹏╥)
Your husband never failed to overwork himself. He would spend hours of the day and night focused on any part of his lawyer duties, accidentally neglecting his poor wife of the basics of attention.
He would work overtime and come home late, tired, and sometimes drunk. But you knew he would never cheat. Not at all. Not when he bellyflops on top of you, drowning you in cologne and the bedsheets at 10:46 at night. Not when he grumbles about how tired he is or how his day sucked, mostly because of his co-workers. Not when he kisses your neck mid-complaint.
But he doesn't do all of that anymore. He's been more tired and too distant recently. You know he loves you, but why can't he make more time for you?
Your husband is passionate about his work. To spend more time with his work than with you? He's always taking on these super hard cases and spending way too much time on them, often leaving you to just be alone most of the time.
It was almost as if the romance had gone from your life. You didn't regret marrying Hiromi. But how could you bring that spark back into both of your lives? How could you get his attention? You have to win his attention back!
Your attempts to get your husband's attention away from work failed. It was a lot harder than it had seemed. You had been trying all the tricks in the book; you'd been at it for almost a month now! But you really thought the recent ones would do something!!
First, you “accidentally” knocked his stapler off his desk, bending over to grab it while “coincidentally” wearing his favorite miniskirt. Of course, he looked. But that's it. He checked you out for about 2.83 seconds before thanking you for retrieving the escaping stationery and then just going back to work.
Second, you just so happened to spill cold water on your tight white tank top, the day you weren't wearing a bra. Once again, he only looked. And then went to get a towel and a new shirt. That one confused you. Your whole tits were out for him to see through the thin shirt, and he just looked?! Didn't even say anything?!
Third, you were sure to do something. He just so happened to come home and open the bedroom door at the same time that you were rocking up and down on your pretty pink dildo, moaning his name. There's no way it wouldn't work!! But he was only flustered, apologized for not knocking, and left for his study.
Maybe it wasn't him, but you? Were you just not attractive to him anymore? That couldn't be the case! Every time you had done something to get his attention, he was always blushing, so flustered. scrambling to hide the growing tent in his pants. It seemed like he was at least a little turned on, but why wouldn't he give in? Why wasn't anything working??
That night, Hiromi was in his study. Reading over his annoyingly confusing case files, brows furrowed while a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. He was tense. The clock on the wall was barely visible in the room lit only by Hiromi's desk lamp. But it was late into the night. 1:38 AM. It was already morning, and you were still waiting for your husband to join you in bed.
“Don't worry, honey..I'll be over there…just give me 30 minutes, okay?” was what he had promised you. Three hours ago. So you just decided to get out of bed, slide on your nice silk slip dress, and lean against the doorframe to watch over the stressed workaholic you called your husband.
You had decided to give him a little tease, to act all seductive for him. Another attempt to pull his attention away from work and back to you.
“Honey..you told me you were coming to bed soon! I'm lonely without you…” You pouted. “I miss you…”
Hiromi smacked his lips, opening his mouth to speak. But he was cut off when he saw how you looked, standing in the doorframe. A strap of your slip had fallen off your shoulder, and the cold of the silent house was enough to bring goosebumps over your body, hardening your nipples enough to outline the silk, your legs freshly shaven and smooth, long compared to the shortness of your sleepdress.
You could swear he was having a heart attack from the look on his face and the stillness of his body. And yet, you took it as a sign to trot over to him with that wickedly sly smile on your face.
Your fingers brushed over his shoulder and skimmed his neck gently as you circled him like a shark. “You're so tense…” You whispered. “Miss me?” Hiromi was flushed red at the contact. Still and shy. You helped yourself to sit on his lap, a side saddle with your arms around his neck. Looking at him with focused, doll-like eyes, while he looked away shyly.
You gently cupped his cheek and pulled him closer, and planted soft, intimate kisses against his jawline, pulling a quiet whimper from his lips. You trailed your lips across his cheek and closer to his lips, and he guided his big, rough hands to your hips. You repositioned yourself to a straddle with your legs holding him down against the chair.
You went in for the kiss, but he gently pulled you away and turned his head. “No, baby…” Hiromi groaned. “I gotta work…” You felt a wave of disappointment tumble over your nerves.
You had just about enough.
“But you always have to work! When can I have some of you for myself?” You cried. You craved his attention for so long, and you thought you finally had him! He must be doing it on purpose!
Hiromi looked at the neediness of your expression and sighed. Leaving a soft smile on his face. “You're right. I haven't been paying any attention to you recently. I'm sorry, baby. I'll wrap it up right now, and we can go to bed.” He moved to get up from the chair, but the not-so-tragic alignment of the positions you both were in drew a pleased gasp out of you.
He was half-erect in his slacks, thanks to your previous teasing, so when he moved to get up, the ridge of his cock slid over your clothed clit. You couldn't help the sound that pulled out of you, or that you kept rocking over it desperately to get the amazing feeling of friction back. You were just getting more wet, biting your lip to muffle the sounds you were making. Looking down at him with questioning eyes. Almost as if asking a mix of “is this okay?” and “does it feel good for you too?”
The sounds that Hiromi made answered for him, though. He panted and whined silently as he pushed back into his office chair. He didn't even know he was desperate for this feeling, too.
His gaze was fixed on where you were grinding against him. He gently pushed your slipdress up your waist and pushed his hips up in a gentle thrust to meet yours. Matching your speed-increasing rhythm.
“Oh fuck…” he cursed under his breath. You could feel his dick twitching and pulsing underneath his slacks. “Oh yeah…ride me, baby…”
You gently tilted his chin up so that he would make eye contact with you, but within the few seconds of his obeying, he pulled himself up to kiss you. Hungrily. One hand cupped the back of your head while the other pushed your hip down against his growing bulge.
He gently pushed you forward against his desk while he desperately and quickly dry humped you. You struggled to breathe while all this was happening. Especially with his tongue down your throat. You were soaking through your panties, and he was also getting a wet spot on his pants. But it was unclear if it was from you or the precum that just couldn't stop leaking out of the pretty cock he had packaged away from you.
“Take these off,” Hiromi demanded. Mentally, you screamed in victory, and physically, you quickly threw your panties over his shoulder and onto the chair behind him. He just grabbed the lacy thong and put it in his pocket for later.
He lowered himself to his knees with you lying back against his desk. He quickly snapped your legs open and kissed along the areas next to your needy, soaking, cunt. Of all times to tease, he chose now?
Still, you couldn't hold your moans, or stop your legs from twitching, or your needy cunt from throbbing desperately, expecting something from its usual visitor.
His tongue traveled across your inner thigh, running over the tense tendon, working to hold your legs open. He looked so starved, so why was he teasing??
“Hiromi…baby- mnn!! Fuck!! Why are you teasing me??” You stuttered out to the man crouched in front of you. “You're killing me!! Please!!”
He smiled to himself and took two fingers to your pussylips, snapping them apart and leaning in to press soft, loving kisses to your clit. By now, he had absolutely nasty sounds tearing through your throat. You hadn't felt anything that good in so long, and now he was making up for that time. And he was just getting started.
Hiromi started to leave sloppy kisses all over your nub. His tongue slowly lapping and pulling at your swelling clit. He makes you shiver with every stroke, even if he was just being slow. And then you caught on to what he was trying to do. The tricky bastard!!
He was trying to get you all sensitive and weak beforehand!! He wanted to drive you crazy so that he could be the only one on top!! That's just not fair!! You've been trying to fuck him for almost two months, and he's trying to steal your show!!
“Hiromi, I know what you're trying to-!! F-fuck!!” He cut you off!! He got his hands and used his thumbs to pull your entrance open, throwing your legs over his shoulders. He savagely stuck his tongue out and quickly shook and rolled it over your pulsing hole. Head swaying around your wetness, his beautiful nose flicking over your clit. He was making a whole mess of your juices, eating you like his last meal.
You couldn't even form words; all you could do was moan and whine. Going dumb over your husband's head game. He picked up on the signs you were giving. Shuttering legs, filthy noises, head snapped back like some cheesy horror movie. You were about to cum.
“Cum in my mouth, baby,” Hiromi demanded. “Soak my face.” he teased, looking up at you from between your legs before we quickly went back down again to feast.
You silently nodded, holding a moan behind your bitten lips as the coil tensed in your gut. Completely forgetting about him not letting you top, you didn't even care. You just wanted him to fuck your brains out, if you even still had any left.
Hiromi quickly strummed his tongue back and forth over your clit, and then jammed two fingers into your gummy walls, quickly thrusting his fingers exactly into your g-spot, making you whine loud enough to echo through the apartment.
He watched as your juices ran down his palm like a waterfall, continuing to finger-fuck your G-spot, splashing your fluids over his shirt. “Our neighbors hate us,” he laughed to himself. Watching you struggle to catch your breath.
“Baby??” you sighed.
“Hm?”
“Why are your clothes still on??”
“Huh??”
“Take them off.” You commanded him, and to no surprise, he looked a little flabbergasted. Like all his confidence flew out the window the second you came. To take him out of his trance, you bit your lip and arched your brows at him, putting two fingers over your slit and rolling them in circles. Giving him a little show as you touched yourself.
And just like that, he sprang up. Throwing off his wet button-down shirt and started clumsily fiddling with his belt. His eyes flicked between you and then back to the pants he was desperately trying to peel off.
You giggled at him when he finally got his pants off, but the laughing stopped when he got his boxers off, and you saw what he was hiding under there for the past two months.
His shaft looked heavy, thick, and had maybe a vein or two, while his tip was flushed red with a glossed layer of precum over it. You weren't sure if your poor pussy could take it!!
Before a word could leave your mouth, he rushed over you and used his hand to roll his throbbing tip around the edges of your sweet, sensitive sex. And before you could even process, he had a hand on your waist and one on your hip, and pushed his length into your warmth at a slowish, painful pace. And yet you couldn't stop mewling into his sleeve.
His cock bottomed out inside of you, kissing and nudging at your cervix. Hiromi gently pushed himself up into your sweet spot, just to feel your walls flutter around him and your legs quiver at his hips.
“S-shit..” Hiromi gasped. “I love this pussy…” He kissed your earlobe as he held the sides of the table and started to thrust himself into you, back and forth. The table rocked into the wall repeatedly as your husband fucked you. The feeling of your tailbones on the hardwood table was oh so uncomfortable, but you've been waiting for this sex for so long that it would have to do.
He started to slam himself into you at a dizzying pace, your sopping cunt soaked his balls, making a wet slapping sound against your ass amongst the quiet night. You couldn't stop yourself from shaking and felt tears well up at the corners of your eyes, teasing their release.
“You gonna cum again??” Hiromi growled into your ear. “Gonna cum all over my cock??” He pushed you all the way onto your back and started ruthlessly pounding that sensitive gummy spot deep inside you. Filthy sounds flooded the room as you went absolutely stupid for him.
“Mhm!!” You moaned behind pouting lips. “I love you!!” You cried. Mind flooded with emotions for your lover. It had been so long since he was in your firm walls, and it felt like home.
“Fuck yeah, y/n.” He smiled at you. “That's my girl. Tighten for me, baby.” He gripped your hips hard and pulled you right to the edge of the desk. You did just as he told you, like a dog. You clenched around him as if you were doing kegels, and just as you did,
You felt your orgasm tear out of your guts and spill between your legs.
Hiromi didn't give you any time to recover; instead, he picked you up and held you right against him, your legs with no choice but to wrap around him as he slammed his cock into you. Letting your body bounce over his hips every time he bucked upwards into your spasming pussy.
“Fuck!! Oh my god!!” you screamed into his shoulder, as if it muffled anything. The stamina that this man had was insane!! He could've been in the Olympics the way he was running your pussy!!
“You're my little whore for the night, aren't you, baby??” Hiromi whispered those sexy insults into your ear as he carried you to the bedroom. He threw you onto the bed and quickly took off the remainder of his suit. “Take that shit off.” He nodded his head to your wet, silky nightgown. And without hesitation, you threw it into the laundry basket across the room.
Hiromi grabbed your hips and threw you onto your stomach. The messy comforter on the bed skimmed your hardened nipples like a massage as Hiromi forced your back into an arch.
“Hmnn?! You're still going?!” You exclaimed. At this point, you were just never going to sleep.
“I've gotta cum too, yknow?” He pointed out as he slammed himself into you from behind. Knocking all the air from your lungs and forcing them out in a moan. “You have no idea how hard it was to try and stay focused on my work, so hard when my sexy wife kept teasing me when I had important work!!” It seemed as if he was taking out his pent-up frustration from work on you. He was almost rearranging your guts with his harsh slams.
“This is all I've wanted!!” you yelled back at him. “I just wanted you, Hiro!! I wanted you to notice me!! Be with me!!” You tried to hold a serious conversation, even if you were mid intercourse. “You don't always have to lock yourself away!! Just let me be your weakness every once in a while!!”
That's where he just about had it.
Hiromi wrapped his arm around your neck and choked you with his bicep, holding you in a headlock as he seemed to be strangling you. But it was still so hot. “Is this what you wanted?? You wanted my attention, right?!” He yelled at you. “You want me to pump this pretty cunt full of my cum?!”
“Fuck!! yesyesYES!!” You cried, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you choked out your words. “I missed everything!! I missed you!! I missed all the things we did together!! I missed this dick!!”
He pistoned himself all the way in and grunted through his release. Hot robes of sloppy seed littering your tunnel. Punishing your guts as you came one more time around him, milking him for his cum.
Hiromi gently pulled out of you, looking at the wreckage between your thighs as if he were an artist admiring his latest masterpiece. Like Norman fucking Rockwell.
You caught your breath, and he held onto you and pulled you to his chest. Kissing your cheek. Catching up in a soft moment of intimacy together. It felt so nice to finally do something together for once.
“So how have you been, baby??” Hiromi breathed out.
After both of you had cleaned up, you slid on a new nightgown and joined your husband in bed, a comforting sweetheart's cradle for aftercare.
“I'm so sorry for neglecting you in my attention, y/n.” Hiromi apologized. “You mean everything, and I just got too carried away with my work and-!!”
“Shhushhh…” You comforted. “It's okay, I'm not mad.” You smiled for reassurance.
“And I'm sorry I said you were my whore for the night!!” He quickly stumbled out. “You're so much more to me than that!!”
You couldn't help but giggle at how apologetic he was. Compared to how he was unapologetically ruining you an hour ago.
“Let's go out tomorrow!! Let's have breakfast together!!” Hiromi demanded. “You deserve everything, and I need to catch up on loving you!!” He pleaded to you as he sprang from the mattress.
“Alright, but that's later.” You shifted him back down to the pillow. “Now, it's time for us to sleep.” You gently rested your head back down on his chest.
“...finally.” you whispered.
He let out a little giggle, but then drifted to sleep so quickly.
“y/n?!” Hiromi called through the apartment. “You ready to go?? It's almost time for the reservation!!” He anxiously checked his silver watch beneath his brown winter coat.
“Yeah!! Coming!!” You applied your last brush of mascara and two quick puffs of perfume before rushing to the door. Slipping on your cute fur boots in front of your husband as he towered over you. “Let's go!!’ You exclaimed as you laced the last string. Taking Hiromi's hand to lift you.
“It's cold out, you gonna get your scarf?” He suggested. He didn't want his darling wife to get cold now, did he??
“I'll be fine!! Now come on were already gonna be late!!” You took him and rushed the two of you out the door.
“And whose fault is that?” He joked. You just swatted at his arm as he laughed to himself.
The two of you reached the elevator and joined your two neighbors, who were a lovely older couple.
God, you hoped they didn't hear you last night.
The cold from the building was already sending goosebumps down your body, and you were used to the warm blankets from last night that you overlooked everything. It was embarrassing, but you had to admit that Hiromi was right.
“Honey?? Could you hold the elevator for me??” You blushed before you could even say it. “I'm gonna go get my scarf…” Hiromi's face lit up in an “I told you so” kind of way.
“Of course. Just be fast, sweetheart.” Hiromi smirked. “Don't hold us up.” He teased you again. God, he sure was cocky the morning after.
You rushed down the hall back to your apartment, leaving your husband with the sweet couple in the elevator.
“She is a doll, isn't she??” The old lady complimented. “You are a lucky boy!” She let out a soft smile to the shy man. The lady holding her husband's arm.
“Yes, I am.” Hiromi blushed, failing at hiding his smile. “Shes the light of my life. Don't know what I’d do without her.”
“You two are just like my husband and me when we were younger!! Now we're just lazy old bums!!” The older lady joked. The couple laughed together. Hiromi laughed with them.
“I think it's sweet that you two have stayed together that long.” Hiromi returned a compliment.
“You and that girl have a spark that my wife and I have. I'm sure that you two will grow old together just like us.” The old man smiled at Hiromi in his flustered state.
“I'm sure we will.” Hiromi smiled. A moment of silence passed in the waiting elevator.
“You know, I think it's wonderful that the two of you are trying for a baby!!” The old lady misunderstood. They definitely heard last night.
It took a moment to register in Hiromi's lagging head.
“WHAT?!”
A/N : hope u liked it !! lmk if u want a part twoo !!
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All written content belongs to @snuxxy! do not reupload, translate, or feed my work into ai. I do not own the original characters, art used, or banners above.
Summary : Hiromi, your husband, has been paying less and less attention to you and more and more attention to his work. So what happens when his needy wife tests his limits and sees how much he can take before going feral for her?? Surely he'll give in quickly!! Or so you thought. How pent up was he?? How much stamina does he even have?? How determined is he to FUCK YOUR BRAINS OUT?!
Content [ MDNI!! ] : SMUT + FLUFF. fem!wife!reader, overworked!husband!Hiromi, stressed! Hiromi, teasing, lingerie, desk s, oral (fem rec.), tongue f, rough s, multiple orgasms, overstím, dúmbifícation, filthy s, slightly mean hiromi ( with apologies ), making it fit, hes talking you through it, cIit play, pússydrúnk higuruma, missionary, chokíng, manhandIing, pronebone, sIight níppIe stim, creampíes, cúmpIay, aftercare, pet names, swéaring.
Pairing : Hiromi Higuruma x Reader
Word Count : 3.7k
A/N : MY FIRST FIC YAY!!
I was sleepy and had work to do, so yes, I know this sucks, bear with me !!
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Your husband never failed to overwork himself. He would spend hours of the day and night focused on any part of his lawyer duties, accidentally neglecting his poor wife of the basics of attention.
He would work overtime and come home late, tired, and sometimes drunk. But you knew he would never cheat. Not at all. Not when he bellyflops on top of you, drowning you in cologne and the bedsheets at 10:46 at night. Not when he grumbles about how tired he is or how his day sucked, mostly because of his co-workers. Not when he kisses your neck mid-complaint.
But he doesn't do all of that anymore. He's been more tired and too distant recently. You know he loves you, but why can't he make more time for you?
Your husband is passionate about his work. To spend more time with his work than with you? He's always taking on these super hard cases and spending way too much time on them, often leaving you to just be alone most of the time.
It was almost as if the romance had gone from your life. You didn't regret marrying Hiromi. But how could you bring that spark back into both of your lives? How could you get his attention? You have to win his attention back!
Your attempts to get your husband's attention away from work failed. It was a lot harder than it had seemed. You had been trying all the tricks in the book; you'd been at it for almost a month now! But you really thought the recent ones would do something!!
First, you “accidentally” knocked his stapler off his desk, bending over to grab it while “coincidentally” wearing his favorite miniskirt. Of course, he looked. But that's it. He checked you out for about 2.83 seconds before thanking you for retrieving the escaping stationery and then just going back to work.
Second, you just so happened to spill cold water on your tight white tank top, the day you weren't wearing a bra. Once again, he only looked. And then went to get a towel and a new shirt. That one confused you. Your whole tits were out for him to see through the thin shirt, and he just looked?! Didn't even say anything?!
Third, you were sure to do something. He just so happened to come home and open the bedroom door at the same time that you were rocking up and down on your pretty pink dildo, moaning his name. There's no way it wouldn't work!! But he was only flustered, apologized for not knocking, and left for his study.
Maybe it wasn't him, but you? Were you just not attractive to him anymore? That couldn't be the case! Every time you had done something to get his attention, he was always blushing, so flustered. scrambling to hide the growing tent in his pants. It seemed like he was at least a little turned on, but why wouldn't he give in? Why wasn't anything working??
That night, Hiromi was in his study. Reading over his annoyingly confusing case files, brows furrowed while a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. He was tense. The clock on the wall was barely visible in the room lit only by Hiromi's desk lamp. But it was late into the night. 1:38 AM. It was already morning, and you were still waiting for your husband to join you in bed.
“Don't worry, honey..I'll be over there…just give me 30 minutes, okay?” was what he had promised you. Three hours ago. So you just decided to get out of bed, slide on your nice silk slip dress, and lean against the doorframe to watch over the stressed workaholic you called your husband.
You had decided to give him a little tease, to act all seductive for him. Another attempt to pull his attention away from work and back to you.
“Honey..you told me you were coming to bed soon! I'm lonely without you…” You pouted. “I miss you…”
Hiromi smacked his lips, opening his mouth to speak. But he was cut off when he saw how you looked, standing in the doorframe. A strap of your slip had fallen off your shoulder, and the cold of the silent house was enough to bring goosebumps over your body, hardening your nipples enough to outline the silk, your legs freshly shaven and smooth, long compared to the shortness of your sleepdress.
You could swear he was having a heart attack from the look on his face and the stillness of his body. And yet, you took it as a sign to trot over to him with that wickedly sly smile on your face.
Your fingers brushed over his shoulder and skimmed his neck gently as you circled him like a shark. “You're so tense…” You whispered. “Miss me?” Hiromi was flushed red at the contact. Still and shy. You helped yourself to sit on his lap, a side saddle with your arms around his neck. Looking at him with focused, doll-like eyes, while he looked away shyly.
You gently cupped his cheek and pulled him closer, and planted soft, intimate kisses against his jawline, pulling a quiet whimper from his lips. You trailed your lips across his cheek and closer to his lips, and he guided his big, rough hands to your hips. You repositioned yourself to a straddle with your legs holding him down against the chair.
You went in for the kiss, but he gently pulled you away and turned his head. “No, baby…” Hiromi groaned. “I gotta work…” You felt a wave of disappointment tumble over your nerves.
You had just about enough.
“But you always have to work! When can I have some of you for myself?” You cried. You craved his attention for so long, and you thought you finally had him! He must be doing it on purpose!
Hiromi looked at the neediness of your expression and sighed. Leaving a soft smile on his face. “You're right. I haven't been paying any attention to you recently. I'm sorry, baby. I'll wrap it up right now, and we can go to bed.” He moved to get up from the chair, but the not-so-tragic alignment of the positions you both were in drew a pleased gasp out of you.
He was half-erect in his slacks, thanks to your previous teasing, so when he moved to get up, the ridge of his cock slid over your clothed clit. You couldn't help the sound that pulled out of you, or that you kept rocking over it desperately to get the amazing feeling of friction back. You were just getting more wet, biting your lip to muffle the sounds you were making. Looking down at him with questioning eyes. Almost as if asking a mix of “is this okay?” and “does it feel good for you too?”
The sounds that Hiromi made answered for him, though. He panted and whined silently as he pushed back into his office chair. He didn't even know he was desperate for this feeling, too.
His gaze was fixed on where you were grinding against him. He gently pushed your slipdress up your waist and pushed his hips up in a gentle thrust to meet yours. Matching your speed-increasing rhythm.
“Oh fuck…” he cursed under his breath. You could feel his dick twitching and pulsing underneath his slacks. “Oh yeah…ride me, baby…”
You gently tilted his chin up so that he would make eye contact with you, but within the few seconds of his obeying, he pulled himself up to kiss you. Hungrily. One hand cupped the back of your head while the other pushed your hip down against his growing bulge.
He gently pushed you forward against his desk while he desperately and quickly dry humped you. You struggled to breathe while all this was happening. Especially with his tongue down your throat. You were soaking through your panties, and he was also getting a wet spot on his pants. But it was unclear if it was from you or the precum that just couldn't stop leaking out of the pretty cock he had packaged away from you.
“Take these off,” Hiromi demanded. Mentally, you screamed in victory, and physically, you quickly threw your panties over his shoulder and onto the chair behind him. He just grabbed the lacy thong and put it in his pocket for later.
He lowered himself to his knees with you lying back against his desk. He quickly snapped your legs open and kissed along the areas next to your needy, soaking, cunt. Of all times to tease, he chose now?
Still, you couldn't hold your moans, or stop your legs from twitching, or your needy cunt from throbbing desperately, expecting something from its usual visitor.
His tongue traveled across your inner thigh, running over the tense tendon, working to hold your legs open. He looked so starved, so why was he teasing??
“Hiromi…baby- mnn!! Fuck!! Why are you teasing me??” You stuttered out to the man crouched in front of you. “You're killing me!! Please!!”
He smiled to himself and took two fingers to your pussylips, snapping them apart and leaning in to press soft, loving kisses to your clit. By now, he had absolutely nasty sounds tearing through your throat. You hadn't felt anything that good in so long, and now he was making up for that time. And he was just getting started.
Hiromi started to leave sloppy kisses all over your nub. His tongue slowly lapping and pulling at your swelling clit. He makes you shiver with every stroke, even if he was just being slow. And then you caught on to what he was trying to do. The tricky bastard!!
He was trying to get you all sensitive and weak beforehand!! He wanted to drive you crazy so that he could be the only one on top!! That's just not fair!! You've been trying to fuck him for almost two months, and he's trying to steal your show!!
“Hiromi, I know what you're trying to-!! F-fuck!!” He cut you off!! He got his hands and used his thumbs to pull your entrance open, throwing your legs over his shoulders. He savagely stuck his tongue out and quickly shook and rolled it over your pulsing hole. Head swaying around your wetness, his beautiful nose flicking over your clit. He was making a whole mess of your juices, eating you like his last meal.
You couldn't even form words; all you could do was moan and whine. Going dumb over your husband's head game. He picked up on the signs you were giving. Shuttering legs, filthy noises, head snapped back like some cheesy horror movie. You were about to cum.
“Cum in my mouth, baby,” Hiromi demanded. “Soak my face.” he teased, looking up at you from between your legs before we quickly went back down again to feast.
You silently nodded, holding a moan behind your bitten lips as the coil tensed in your gut. Completely forgetting about him not letting you top, you didn't even care. You just wanted him to fuck your brains out, if you even still had any left.
Hiromi quickly strummed his tongue back and forth over your clit, and then jammed two fingers into your gummy walls, quickly thrusting his fingers exactly into your g-spot, making you whine loud enough to echo through the apartment.
He watched as your juices ran down his palm like a waterfall, continuing to finger-fuck your G-spot, splashing your fluids over his shirt. “Our neighbors hate us,” he laughed to himself. Watching you struggle to catch your breath.
“Baby??” you sighed.
“Hm?”
“Why are your clothes still on??”
“Huh??”
“Take them off.” You commanded him, and to no surprise, he looked a little flabbergasted. Like all his confidence flew out the window the second you came. To take him out of his trance, you bit your lip and arched your brows at him, putting two fingers over your slit and rolling them in circles. Giving him a little show as you touched yourself.
And just like that, he sprang up. Throwing off his wet button-down shirt and started clumsily fiddling with his belt. His eyes flicked between you and then back to the pants he was desperately trying to peel off.
You giggled at him when he finally got his pants off, but the laughing stopped when he got his boxers off, and you saw what he was hiding under there for the past two months.
His shaft looked heavy, thick, and had maybe a vein or two, while his tip was flushed red with a glossed layer of precum over it. You weren't sure if your poor pussy could take it!!
Before a word could leave your mouth, he rushed over you and used his hand to roll his throbbing tip around the edges of your sweet, sensitive sex. And before you could even process, he had a hand on your waist and one on your hip, and pushed his length into your warmth at a slowish, painful pace. And yet you couldn't stop mewling into his sleeve.
His cock bottomed out inside of you, kissing and nudging at your cervix. Hiromi gently pushed himself up into your sweet spot, just to feel your walls flutter around him and your legs quiver at his hips.
“S-shit..” Hiromi gasped. “I love this pussy…” He kissed your earlobe as he held the sides of the table and started to thrust himself into you, back and forth. The table rocked into the wall repeatedly as your husband fucked you. The feeling of your tailbones on the hardwood table was oh so uncomfortable, but you've been waiting for this sex for so long that it would have to do.
He started to slam himself into you at a dizzying pace, your sopping cunt soaked his balls, making a wet slapping sound against your ass amongst the quiet night. You couldn't stop yourself from shaking and felt tears well up at the corners of your eyes, teasing their release.
“You gonna cum again??” Hiromi growled into your ear. “Gonna cum all over my cock??” He pushed you all the way onto your back and started ruthlessly pounding that sensitive gummy spot deep inside you. Filthy sounds flooded the room as you went absolutely stupid for him.
“Mhm!!” You moaned behind pouting lips. “I love you!!” You cried. Mind flooded with emotions for your lover. It had been so long since he was in your firm walls, and it felt like home.
“Fuck yeah, y/n.” He smiled at you. “That's my girl. Tighten for me, baby.” He gripped your hips hard and pulled you right to the edge of the desk. You did just as he told you, like a dog. You clenched around him as if you were doing kegels, and just as you did,
You felt your orgasm tear out of your guts and spill between your legs.
Hiromi didn't give you any time to recover; instead, he picked you up and held you right against him, your legs with no choice but to wrap around him as he slammed his cock into you. Letting your body bounce over his hips every time he bucked upwards into your spasming pussy.
“Fuck!! Oh my god!!” you screamed into his shoulder, as if it muffled anything. The stamina that this man had was insane!! He could've been in the Olympics the way he was running your pussy!!
“You're my little whore for the night, aren't you, baby??” Hiromi whispered those sexy insults into your ear as he carried you to the bedroom. He threw you onto the bed and quickly took off the remainder of his suit. “Take that shit off.” He nodded his head to your wet, silky nightgown. And without hesitation, you threw it into the laundry basket across the room.
Hiromi grabbed your hips and threw you onto your stomach. The messy comforter on the bed skimmed your hardened nipples like a massage as Hiromi forced your back into an arch.
“Hmnn?! You're still going?!” You exclaimed. At this point, you were just never going to sleep.
“I've gotta cum too, yknow?” He pointed out as he slammed himself into you from behind. Knocking all the air from your lungs and forcing them out in a moan. “You have no idea how hard it was to try and stay focused on my work, so hard when my sexy wife kept teasing me when I had important work!!” It seemed as if he was taking out his pent-up frustration from work on you. He was almost rearranging your guts with his harsh slams.
“This is all I've wanted!!” you yelled back at him. “I just wanted you, Hiro!! I wanted you to notice me!! Be with me!!” You tried to hold a serious conversation, even if you were mid intercourse. “You don't always have to lock yourself away!! Just let me be your weakness every once in a while!!”
That's where he just about had it.
Hiromi wrapped his arm around your neck and choked you with his bicep, holding you in a headlock as he seemed to be strangling you. But it was still so hot. “Is this what you wanted?? You wanted my attention, right?!” He yelled at you. “You want me to pump this pretty cunt full of my cum?!”
“Fuck!! yesyesYES!!” You cried, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you choked out your words. “I missed everything!! I missed you!! I missed all the things we did together!! I missed this dick!!”
He pistoned himself all the way in and grunted through his release. Hot robes of sloppy seed littering your tunnel. Punishing your guts as you came one more time around him, milking him for his cum.
Hiromi gently pulled out of you, looking at the wreckage between your thighs as if he were an artist admiring his latest masterpiece. Like Norman fucking Rockwell.
You caught your breath, and he held onto you and pulled you to his chest. Kissing your cheek. Catching up in a soft moment of intimacy together. It felt so nice to finally do something together for once.
“So how have you been, baby??” Hiromi breathed out.
After both of you had cleaned up, you slid on a new nightgown and joined your husband in bed, a comforting sweetheart's cradle for aftercare.
“I'm so sorry for neglecting you in my attention, y/n.” Hiromi apologized. “You mean everything, and I just got too carried away with my work and-!!”
“Shhushhh…” You comforted. “It's okay, I'm not mad.” You smiled for reassurance.
“And I'm sorry I said you were my whore for the night!!” He quickly stumbled out. “You're so much more to me than that!!”
You couldn't help but giggle at how apologetic he was. Compared to how he was unapologetically ruining you an hour ago.
“Let's go out tomorrow!! Let's have breakfast together!!” Hiromi demanded. “You deserve everything, and I need to catch up on loving you!!” He pleaded to you as he sprang from the mattress.
“Alright, but that's later.” You shifted him back down to the pillow. “Now, it's time for us to sleep.” You gently rested your head back down on his chest.
“...finally.” you whispered.
He let out a little giggle, but then drifted to sleep so quickly.
“y/n?!” Hiromi called through the apartment. “You ready to go?? It's almost time for the reservation!!” He anxiously checked his silver watch beneath his brown winter coat.
“Yeah!! Coming!!” You applied your last brush of mascara and two quick puffs of perfume before rushing to the door. Slipping on your cute fur boots in front of your husband as he towered over you. “Let's go!!’ You exclaimed as you laced the last string. Taking Hiromi's hand to lift you.
“It's cold out, you gonna get your scarf?” He suggested. He didn't want his darling wife to get cold now, did he??
“I'll be fine!! Now come on were already gonna be late!!” You took him and rushed the two of you out the door.
“And whose fault is that?” He joked. You just swatted at his arm as he laughed to himself.
The two of you reached the elevator and joined your two neighbors, who were a lovely older couple.
God, you hoped they didn't hear you last night.
The cold from the building was already sending goosebumps down your body, and you were used to the warm blankets from last night that you overlooked everything. It was embarrassing, but you had to admit that Hiromi was right.
“Honey?? Could you hold the elevator for me??” You blushed before you could even say it. “I'm gonna go get my scarf…” Hiromi's face lit up in an “I told you so” kind of way.
“Of course. Just be fast, sweetheart.” Hiromi smirked. “Don't hold us up.” He teased you again. God, he sure was cocky the morning after.
You rushed down the hall back to your apartment, leaving your husband with the sweet couple in the elevator.
“She is a doll, isn't she??” The old lady complimented. “You are a lucky boy!” She let out a soft smile to the shy man. The lady holding her husband's arm.
“Yes, I am.” Hiromi blushed, failing at hiding his smile. “Shes the light of my life. Don't know what I’d do without her.”
“You two are just like my husband and me when we were younger!! Now we're just lazy old bums!!” The older lady joked. The couple laughed together. Hiromi laughed with them.
“I think it's sweet that you two have stayed together that long.” Hiromi returned a compliment.
“You and that girl have a spark that my wife and I have. I'm sure that you two will grow old together just like us.” The old man smiled at Hiromi in his flustered state.
“I'm sure we will.” Hiromi smiled. A moment of silence passed in the waiting elevator.
“You know, I think it's wonderful that the two of you are trying for a baby!!” The old lady misunderstood. They definitely heard last night.
It took a moment to register in Hiromi's lagging head.
“WHAT?!”
A/N : hope u liked it !! lmk if u want a part twoo !!
ദ്ദി◝ ⩊ ◜.ᐟ
All written content belongs to @snuxxy! do not reupload, translate, or feed my work into ai. I do not own the original characters, art used, or banners above.
Summary : Hiromi, your husband, has been paying less and less attention to you and more and more attention to his work. So what happens when his needy wife tests his limits and sees how much he can take before going feral for her?? Surely he'll give in quickly!! Or so you thought. How pent up was he?? How much stamina does he even have?? How determined is he to FUCK YOUR BRAINS OUT?!
Content [ MDNI!! ] : SMUT + FLUFF. fem!wife!reader, overworked!husband!Hiromi, stressed! Hiromi, teasing, lingerie, desk s, oral (fem rec.), tongue f, rough s, multiple orgasms, overstím, dúmbifícation, filthy s, slightly mean hiromi ( with apologies ), making it fit, hes talking you through it, cIit play, pússydrúnk higuruma, missionary, chokíng, manhandIing, pronebone, sIight níppIe stim, creampíes, cúmpIay, aftercare, pet names, swéaring.
Pairing : Hiromi Higuruma x Reader
Word Count : 3.7k
A/N : MY FIRST FIC YAY!!
I was sleepy and had work to do, so yes, I know this sucks, bear with me !!
(╥﹏╥)
Your husband never failed to overwork himself. He would spend hours of the day and night focused on any part of his lawyer duties, accidentally neglecting his poor wife of the basics of attention.
He would work overtime and come home late, tired, and sometimes drunk. But you knew he would never cheat. Not at all. Not when he bellyflops on top of you, drowning you in cologne and the bedsheets at 10:46 at night. Not when he grumbles about how tired he is or how his day sucked, mostly because of his co-workers. Not when he kisses your neck mid-complaint.
But he doesn't do all of that anymore. He's been more tired and too distant recently. You know he loves you, but why can't he make more time for you?
Your husband is passionate about his work. To spend more time with his work than with you? He's always taking on these super hard cases and spending way too much time on them, often leaving you to just be alone most of the time.
It was almost as if the romance had gone from your life. You didn't regret marrying Hiromi. But how could you bring that spark back into both of your lives? How could you get his attention? You have to win his attention back!
Your attempts to get your husband's attention away from work failed. It was a lot harder than it had seemed. You had been trying all the tricks in the book; you'd been at it for almost a month now! But you really thought the recent ones would do something!!
First, you “accidentally” knocked his stapler off his desk, bending over to grab it while “coincidentally” wearing his favorite miniskirt. Of course, he looked. But that's it. He checked you out for about 2.83 seconds before thanking you for retrieving the escaping stationery and then just going back to work.
Second, you just so happened to spill cold water on your tight white tank top, the day you weren't wearing a bra. Once again, he only looked. And then went to get a towel and a new shirt. That one confused you. Your whole tits were out for him to see through the thin shirt, and he just looked?! Didn't even say anything?!
Third, you were sure to do something. He just so happened to come home and open the bedroom door at the same time that you were rocking up and down on your pretty pink dildo, moaning his name. There's no way it wouldn't work!! But he was only flustered, apologized for not knocking, and left for his study.
Maybe it wasn't him, but you? Were you just not attractive to him anymore? That couldn't be the case! Every time you had done something to get his attention, he was always blushing, so flustered. scrambling to hide the growing tent in his pants. It seemed like he was at least a little turned on, but why wouldn't he give in? Why wasn't anything working??
That night, Hiromi was in his study. Reading over his annoyingly confusing case files, brows furrowed while a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. He was tense. The clock on the wall was barely visible in the room lit only by Hiromi's desk lamp. But it was late into the night. 1:38 AM. It was already morning, and you were still waiting for your husband to join you in bed.
“Don't worry, honey..I'll be over there…just give me 30 minutes, okay?” was what he had promised you. Three hours ago. So you just decided to get out of bed, slide on your nice silk slip dress, and lean against the doorframe to watch over the stressed workaholic you called your husband.
You had decided to give him a little tease, to act all seductive for him. Another attempt to pull his attention away from work and back to you.
“Honey..you told me you were coming to bed soon! I'm lonely without you…” You pouted. “I miss you…”
Hiromi smacked his lips, opening his mouth to speak. But he was cut off when he saw how you looked, standing in the doorframe. A strap of your slip had fallen off your shoulder, and the cold of the silent house was enough to bring goosebumps over your body, hardening your nipples enough to outline the silk, your legs freshly shaven and smooth, long compared to the shortness of your sleepdress.
You could swear he was having a heart attack from the look on his face and the stillness of his body. And yet, you took it as a sign to trot over to him with that wickedly sly smile on your face.
Your fingers brushed over his shoulder and skimmed his neck gently as you circled him like a shark. “You're so tense…” You whispered. “Miss me?” Hiromi was flushed red at the contact. Still and shy. You helped yourself to sit on his lap, a side saddle with your arms around his neck. Looking at him with focused, doll-like eyes, while he looked away shyly.
You gently cupped his cheek and pulled him closer, and planted soft, intimate kisses against his jawline, pulling a quiet whimper from his lips. You trailed your lips across his cheek and closer to his lips, and he guided his big, rough hands to your hips. You repositioned yourself to a straddle with your legs holding him down against the chair.
You went in for the kiss, but he gently pulled you away and turned his head. “No, baby…” Hiromi groaned. “I gotta work…” You felt a wave of disappointment tumble over your nerves.
You had just about enough.
“But you always have to work! When can I have some of you for myself?” You cried. You craved his attention for so long, and you thought you finally had him! He must be doing it on purpose!
Hiromi looked at the neediness of your expression and sighed. Leaving a soft smile on his face. “You're right. I haven't been paying any attention to you recently. I'm sorry, baby. I'll wrap it up right now, and we can go to bed.” He moved to get up from the chair, but the not-so-tragic alignment of the positions you both were in drew a pleased gasp out of you.
He was half-erect in his slacks, thanks to your previous teasing, so when he moved to get up, the ridge of his cock slid over your clothed clit. You couldn't help the sound that pulled out of you, or that you kept rocking over it desperately to get the amazing feeling of friction back. You were just getting more wet, biting your lip to muffle the sounds you were making. Looking down at him with questioning eyes. Almost as if asking a mix of “is this okay?” and “does it feel good for you too?”
The sounds that Hiromi made answered for him, though. He panted and whined silently as he pushed back into his office chair. He didn't even know he was desperate for this feeling, too.
His gaze was fixed on where you were grinding against him. He gently pushed your slipdress up your waist and pushed his hips up in a gentle thrust to meet yours. Matching your speed-increasing rhythm.
“Oh fuck…” he cursed under his breath. You could feel his dick twitching and pulsing underneath his slacks. “Oh yeah…ride me, baby…”
You gently tilted his chin up so that he would make eye contact with you, but within the few seconds of his obeying, he pulled himself up to kiss you. Hungrily. One hand cupped the back of your head while the other pushed your hip down against his growing bulge.
He gently pushed you forward against his desk while he desperately and quickly dry humped you. You struggled to breathe while all this was happening. Especially with his tongue down your throat. You were soaking through your panties, and he was also getting a wet spot on his pants. But it was unclear if it was from you or the precum that just couldn't stop leaking out of the pretty cock he had packaged away from you.
“Take these off,” Hiromi demanded. Mentally, you screamed in victory, and physically, you quickly threw your panties over his shoulder and onto the chair behind him. He just grabbed the lacy thong and put it in his pocket for later.
He lowered himself to his knees with you lying back against his desk. He quickly snapped your legs open and kissed along the areas next to your needy, soaking, cunt. Of all times to tease, he chose now?
Still, you couldn't hold your moans, or stop your legs from twitching, or your needy cunt from throbbing desperately, expecting something from its usual visitor.
His tongue traveled across your inner thigh, running over the tense tendon, working to hold your legs open. He looked so starved, so why was he teasing??
“Hiromi…baby- mnn!! Fuck!! Why are you teasing me??” You stuttered out to the man crouched in front of you. “You're killing me!! Please!!”
He smiled to himself and took two fingers to your pussylips, snapping them apart and leaning in to press soft, loving kisses to your clit. By now, he had absolutely nasty sounds tearing through your throat. You hadn't felt anything that good in so long, and now he was making up for that time. And he was just getting started.
Hiromi started to leave sloppy kisses all over your nub. His tongue slowly lapping and pulling at your swelling clit. He makes you shiver with every stroke, even if he was just being slow. And then you caught on to what he was trying to do. The tricky bastard!!
He was trying to get you all sensitive and weak beforehand!! He wanted to drive you crazy so that he could be the only one on top!! That's just not fair!! You've been trying to fuck him for almost two months, and he's trying to steal your show!!
“Hiromi, I know what you're trying to-!! F-fuck!!” He cut you off!! He got his hands and used his thumbs to pull your entrance open, throwing your legs over his shoulders. He savagely stuck his tongue out and quickly shook and rolled it over your pulsing hole. Head swaying around your wetness, his beautiful nose flicking over your clit. He was making a whole mess of your juices, eating you like his last meal.
You couldn't even form words; all you could do was moan and whine. Going dumb over your husband's head game. He picked up on the signs you were giving. Shuttering legs, filthy noises, head snapped back like some cheesy horror movie. You were about to cum.
“Cum in my mouth, baby,” Hiromi demanded. “Soak my face.” he teased, looking up at you from between your legs before we quickly went back down again to feast.
You silently nodded, holding a moan behind your bitten lips as the coil tensed in your gut. Completely forgetting about him not letting you top, you didn't even care. You just wanted him to fuck your brains out, if you even still had any left.
Hiromi quickly strummed his tongue back and forth over your clit, and then jammed two fingers into your gummy walls, quickly thrusting his fingers exactly into your g-spot, making you whine loud enough to echo through the apartment.
He watched as your juices ran down his palm like a waterfall, continuing to finger-fuck your G-spot, splashing your fluids over his shirt. “Our neighbors hate us,” he laughed to himself. Watching you struggle to catch your breath.
“Baby??” you sighed.
“Hm?”
“Why are your clothes still on??”
“Huh??”
“Take them off.” You commanded him, and to no surprise, he looked a little flabbergasted. Like all his confidence flew out the window the second you came. To take him out of his trance, you bit your lip and arched your brows at him, putting two fingers over your slit and rolling them in circles. Giving him a little show as you touched yourself.
And just like that, he sprang up. Throwing off his wet button-down shirt and started clumsily fiddling with his belt. His eyes flicked between you and then back to the pants he was desperately trying to peel off.
You giggled at him when he finally got his pants off, but the laughing stopped when he got his boxers off, and you saw what he was hiding under there for the past two months.
His shaft looked heavy, thick, and had maybe a vein or two, while his tip was flushed red with a glossed layer of precum over it. You weren't sure if your poor pussy could take it!!
Before a word could leave your mouth, he rushed over you and used his hand to roll his throbbing tip around the edges of your sweet, sensitive sex. And before you could even process, he had a hand on your waist and one on your hip, and pushed his length into your warmth at a slowish, painful pace. And yet you couldn't stop mewling into his sleeve.
His cock bottomed out inside of you, kissing and nudging at your cervix. Hiromi gently pushed himself up into your sweet spot, just to feel your walls flutter around him and your legs quiver at his hips.
“S-shit..” Hiromi gasped. “I love this pussy…” He kissed your earlobe as he held the sides of the table and started to thrust himself into you, back and forth. The table rocked into the wall repeatedly as your husband fucked you. The feeling of your tailbones on the hardwood table was oh so uncomfortable, but you've been waiting for this sex for so long that it would have to do.
He started to slam himself into you at a dizzying pace, your sopping cunt soaked his balls, making a wet slapping sound against your ass amongst the quiet night. You couldn't stop yourself from shaking and felt tears well up at the corners of your eyes, teasing their release.
“You gonna cum again??” Hiromi growled into your ear. “Gonna cum all over my cock??” He pushed you all the way onto your back and started ruthlessly pounding that sensitive gummy spot deep inside you. Filthy sounds flooded the room as you went absolutely stupid for him.
“Mhm!!” You moaned behind pouting lips. “I love you!!” You cried. Mind flooded with emotions for your lover. It had been so long since he was in your firm walls, and it felt like home.
“Fuck yeah, y/n.” He smiled at you. “That's my girl. Tighten for me, baby.” He gripped your hips hard and pulled you right to the edge of the desk. You did just as he told you, like a dog. You clenched around him as if you were doing kegels, and just as you did,
You felt your orgasm tear out of your guts and spill between your legs.
Hiromi didn't give you any time to recover; instead, he picked you up and held you right against him, your legs with no choice but to wrap around him as he slammed his cock into you. Letting your body bounce over his hips every time he bucked upwards into your spasming pussy.
“Fuck!! Oh my god!!” you screamed into his shoulder, as if it muffled anything. The stamina that this man had was insane!! He could've been in the Olympics the way he was running your pussy!!
“You're my little whore for the night, aren't you, baby??” Hiromi whispered those sexy insults into your ear as he carried you to the bedroom. He threw you onto the bed and quickly took off the remainder of his suit. “Take that shit off.” He nodded his head to your wet, silky nightgown. And without hesitation, you threw it into the laundry basket across the room.
Hiromi grabbed your hips and threw you onto your stomach. The messy comforter on the bed skimmed your hardened nipples like a massage as Hiromi forced your back into an arch.
“Hmnn?! You're still going?!” You exclaimed. At this point, you were just never going to sleep.
“I've gotta cum too, yknow?” He pointed out as he slammed himself into you from behind. Knocking all the air from your lungs and forcing them out in a moan. “You have no idea how hard it was to try and stay focused on my work, so hard when my sexy wife kept teasing me when I had important work!!” It seemed as if he was taking out his pent-up frustration from work on you. He was almost rearranging your guts with his harsh slams.
“This is all I've wanted!!” you yelled back at him. “I just wanted you, Hiro!! I wanted you to notice me!! Be with me!!” You tried to hold a serious conversation, even if you were mid intercourse. “You don't always have to lock yourself away!! Just let me be your weakness every once in a while!!”
That's where he just about had it.
Hiromi wrapped his arm around your neck and choked you with his bicep, holding you in a headlock as he seemed to be strangling you. But it was still so hot. “Is this what you wanted?? You wanted my attention, right?!” He yelled at you. “You want me to pump this pretty cunt full of my cum?!”
“Fuck!! yesyesYES!!” You cried, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you choked out your words. “I missed everything!! I missed you!! I missed all the things we did together!! I missed this dick!!”
He pistoned himself all the way in and grunted through his release. Hot robes of sloppy seed littering your tunnel. Punishing your guts as you came one more time around him, milking him for his cum.
Hiromi gently pulled out of you, looking at the wreckage between your thighs as if he were an artist admiring his latest masterpiece. Like Norman fucking Rockwell.
You caught your breath, and he held onto you and pulled you to his chest. Kissing your cheek. Catching up in a soft moment of intimacy together. It felt so nice to finally do something together for once.
“So how have you been, baby??” Hiromi breathed out.
After both of you had cleaned up, you slid on a new nightgown and joined your husband in bed, a comforting sweetheart's cradle for aftercare.
“I'm so sorry for neglecting you in my attention, y/n.” Hiromi apologized. “You mean everything, and I just got too carried away with my work and-!!”
“Shhushhh…” You comforted. “It's okay, I'm not mad.” You smiled for reassurance.
“And I'm sorry I said you were my whore for the night!!” He quickly stumbled out. “You're so much more to me than that!!”
You couldn't help but giggle at how apologetic he was. Compared to how he was unapologetically ruining you an hour ago.
“Let's go out tomorrow!! Let's have breakfast together!!” Hiromi demanded. “You deserve everything, and I need to catch up on loving you!!” He pleaded to you as he sprang from the mattress.
“Alright, but that's later.” You shifted him back down to the pillow. “Now, it's time for us to sleep.” You gently rested your head back down on his chest.
“...finally.” you whispered.
He let out a little giggle, but then drifted to sleep so quickly.
“y/n?!” Hiromi called through the apartment. “You ready to go?? It's almost time for the reservation!!” He anxiously checked his silver watch beneath his brown winter coat.
“Yeah!! Coming!!” You applied your last brush of mascara and two quick puffs of perfume before rushing to the door. Slipping on your cute fur boots in front of your husband as he towered over you. “Let's go!!’ You exclaimed as you laced the last string. Taking Hiromi's hand to lift you.
“It's cold out, you gonna get your scarf?” He suggested. He didn't want his darling wife to get cold now, did he??
“I'll be fine!! Now come on were already gonna be late!!” You took him and rushed the two of you out the door.
“And whose fault is that?” He joked. You just swatted at his arm as he laughed to himself.
The two of you reached the elevator and joined your two neighbors, who were a lovely older couple.
God, you hoped they didn't hear you last night.
The cold from the building was already sending goosebumps down your body, and you were used to the warm blankets from last night that you overlooked everything. It was embarrassing, but you had to admit that Hiromi was right.
“Honey?? Could you hold the elevator for me??” You blushed before you could even say it. “I'm gonna go get my scarf…” Hiromi's face lit up in an “I told you so” kind of way.
“Of course. Just be fast, sweetheart.” Hiromi smirked. “Don't hold us up.” He teased you again. God, he sure was cocky the morning after.
You rushed down the hall back to your apartment, leaving your husband with the sweet couple in the elevator.
“She is a doll, isn't she??” The old lady complimented. “You are a lucky boy!” She let out a soft smile to the shy man. The lady holding her husband's arm.
“Yes, I am.” Hiromi blushed, failing at hiding his smile. “Shes the light of my life. Don't know what I’d do without her.”
“You two are just like my husband and me when we were younger!! Now we're just lazy old bums!!” The older lady joked. The couple laughed together. Hiromi laughed with them.
“I think it's sweet that you two have stayed together that long.” Hiromi returned a compliment.
“You and that girl have a spark that my wife and I have. I'm sure that you two will grow old together just like us.” The old man smiled at Hiromi in his flustered state.
“I'm sure we will.” Hiromi smiled. A moment of silence passed in the waiting elevator.
“You know, I think it's wonderful that the two of you are trying for a baby!!” The old lady misunderstood. They definitely heard last night.
It took a moment to register in Hiromi's lagging head.
“WHAT?!”
A/N : hope u liked it !! lmk if u want a part twoo !!
ദ്ദി◝ ⩊ ◜.ᐟ
All written content belongs to @snuxxy! do not reupload, translate, or feed my work into ai. I do not own the original characters, art used, or banners above.
Summary : Hiromi, your husband, has been paying less and less attention to you and more and more attention to his work. So what happens when his needy wife tests his limits and sees how much he can take before going feral for her?? Surely he'll give in quickly!! Or so you thought. How pent up was he?? How much stamina does he even have?? How determined is he to FUCK YOUR BRAINS OUT?!
Content [ MDNI!! ] : SMUT + FLUFF. fem!wife!reader, overworked!husband!Hiromi, stressed! Hiromi, teasing, lingerie, desk s, oral (fem rec.), tongue f, rough s, multiple orgasms, overstím, dúmbifícation, filthy s, slightly mean hiromi ( with apologies ), making it fit, hes talking you through it, cIit play, pússydrúnk higuruma, missionary, chokíng, manhandIing, pronebone, sIight níppIe stim, creampíes, cúmpIay, aftercare, pet names, swéaring.
Pairing : Hiromi Higuruma x Reader
Word Count : 3.7k
A/N : MY FIRST FIC YAY!!
I was sleepy and had work to do, so yes, I know this sucks, bear with me !!
(╥﹏╥)
Your husband never failed to overwork himself. He would spend hours of the day and night focused on any part of his lawyer duties, accidentally neglecting his poor wife of the basics of attention.
He would work overtime and come home late, tired, and sometimes drunk. But you knew he would never cheat. Not at all. Not when he bellyflops on top of you, drowning you in cologne and the bedsheets at 10:46 at night. Not when he grumbles about how tired he is or how his day sucked, mostly because of his co-workers. Not when he kisses your neck mid-complaint.
But he doesn't do all of that anymore. He's been more tired and too distant recently. You know he loves you, but why can't he make more time for you?
Your husband is passionate about his work. To spend more time with his work than with you? He's always taking on these super hard cases and spending way too much time on them, often leaving you to just be alone most of the time.
It was almost as if the romance had gone from your life. You didn't regret marrying Hiromi. But how could you bring that spark back into both of your lives? How could you get his attention? You have to win his attention back!
Your attempts to get your husband's attention away from work failed. It was a lot harder than it had seemed. You had been trying all the tricks in the book; you'd been at it for almost a month now! But you really thought the recent ones would do something!!
First, you “accidentally” knocked his stapler off his desk, bending over to grab it while “coincidentally” wearing his favorite miniskirt. Of course, he looked. But that's it. He checked you out for about 2.83 seconds before thanking you for retrieving the escaping stationery and then just going back to work.
Second, you just so happened to spill cold water on your tight white tank top, the day you weren't wearing a bra. Once again, he only looked. And then went to get a towel and a new shirt. That one confused you. Your whole tits were out for him to see through the thin shirt, and he just looked?! Didn't even say anything?!
Third, you were sure to do something. He just so happened to come home and open the bedroom door at the same time that you were rocking up and down on your pretty pink dildo, moaning his name. There's no way it wouldn't work!! But he was only flustered, apologized for not knocking, and left for his study.
Maybe it wasn't him, but you? Were you just not attractive to him anymore? That couldn't be the case! Every time you had done something to get his attention, he was always blushing, so flustered. scrambling to hide the growing tent in his pants. It seemed like he was at least a little turned on, but why wouldn't he give in? Why wasn't anything working??
That night, Hiromi was in his study. Reading over his annoyingly confusing case files, brows furrowed while a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. He was tense. The clock on the wall was barely visible in the room lit only by Hiromi's desk lamp. But it was late into the night. 1:38 AM. It was already morning, and you were still waiting for your husband to join you in bed.
“Don't worry, honey..I'll be over there…just give me 30 minutes, okay?” was what he had promised you. Three hours ago. So you just decided to get out of bed, slide on your nice silk slip dress, and lean against the doorframe to watch over the stressed workaholic you called your husband.
You had decided to give him a little tease, to act all seductive for him. Another attempt to pull his attention away from work and back to you.
“Honey..you told me you were coming to bed soon! I'm lonely without you…” You pouted. “I miss you…”
Hiromi smacked his lips, opening his mouth to speak. But he was cut off when he saw how you looked, standing in the doorframe. A strap of your slip had fallen off your shoulder, and the cold of the silent house was enough to bring goosebumps over your body, hardening your nipples enough to outline the silk, your legs freshly shaven and smooth, long compared to the shortness of your sleepdress.
You could swear he was having a heart attack from the look on his face and the stillness of his body. And yet, you took it as a sign to trot over to him with that wickedly sly smile on your face.
Your fingers brushed over his shoulder and skimmed his neck gently as you circled him like a shark. “You're so tense…” You whispered. “Miss me?” Hiromi was flushed red at the contact. Still and shy. You helped yourself to sit on his lap, a side saddle with your arms around his neck. Looking at him with focused, doll-like eyes, while he looked away shyly.
You gently cupped his cheek and pulled him closer, and planted soft, intimate kisses against his jawline, pulling a quiet whimper from his lips. You trailed your lips across his cheek and closer to his lips, and he guided his big, rough hands to your hips. You repositioned yourself to a straddle with your legs holding him down against the chair.
You went in for the kiss, but he gently pulled you away and turned his head. “No, baby…” Hiromi groaned. “I gotta work…” You felt a wave of disappointment tumble over your nerves.
You had just about enough.
“But you always have to work! When can I have some of you for myself?” You cried. You craved his attention for so long, and you thought you finally had him! He must be doing it on purpose!
Hiromi looked at the neediness of your expression and sighed. Leaving a soft smile on his face. “You're right. I haven't been paying any attention to you recently. I'm sorry, baby. I'll wrap it up right now, and we can go to bed.” He moved to get up from the chair, but the not-so-tragic alignment of the positions you both were in drew a pleased gasp out of you.
He was half-erect in his slacks, thanks to your previous teasing, so when he moved to get up, the ridge of his cock slid over your clothed clit. You couldn't help the sound that pulled out of you, or that you kept rocking over it desperately to get the amazing feeling of friction back. You were just getting more wet, biting your lip to muffle the sounds you were making. Looking down at him with questioning eyes. Almost as if asking a mix of “is this okay?” and “does it feel good for you too?”
The sounds that Hiromi made answered for him, though. He panted and whined silently as he pushed back into his office chair. He didn't even know he was desperate for this feeling, too.
His gaze was fixed on where you were grinding against him. He gently pushed your slipdress up your waist and pushed his hips up in a gentle thrust to meet yours. Matching your speed-increasing rhythm.
“Oh fuck…” he cursed under his breath. You could feel his dick twitching and pulsing underneath his slacks. “Oh yeah…ride me, baby…”
You gently tilted his chin up so that he would make eye contact with you, but within the few seconds of his obeying, he pulled himself up to kiss you. Hungrily. One hand cupped the back of your head while the other pushed your hip down against his growing bulge.
He gently pushed you forward against his desk while he desperately and quickly dry humped you. You struggled to breathe while all this was happening. Especially with his tongue down your throat. You were soaking through your panties, and he was also getting a wet spot on his pants. But it was unclear if it was from you or the precum that just couldn't stop leaking out of the pretty cock he had packaged away from you.
“Take these off,” Hiromi demanded. Mentally, you screamed in victory, and physically, you quickly threw your panties over his shoulder and onto the chair behind him. He just grabbed the lacy thong and put it in his pocket for later.
He lowered himself to his knees with you lying back against his desk. He quickly snapped your legs open and kissed along the areas next to your needy, soaking, cunt. Of all times to tease, he chose now?
Still, you couldn't hold your moans, or stop your legs from twitching, or your needy cunt from throbbing desperately, expecting something from its usual visitor.
His tongue traveled across your inner thigh, running over the tense tendon, working to hold your legs open. He looked so starved, so why was he teasing??
“Hiromi…baby- mnn!! Fuck!! Why are you teasing me??” You stuttered out to the man crouched in front of you. “You're killing me!! Please!!”
He smiled to himself and took two fingers to your pussylips, snapping them apart and leaning in to press soft, loving kisses to your clit. By now, he had absolutely nasty sounds tearing through your throat. You hadn't felt anything that good in so long, and now he was making up for that time. And he was just getting started.
Hiromi started to leave sloppy kisses all over your nub. His tongue slowly lapping and pulling at your swelling clit. He makes you shiver with every stroke, even if he was just being slow. And then you caught on to what he was trying to do. The tricky bastard!!
He was trying to get you all sensitive and weak beforehand!! He wanted to drive you crazy so that he could be the only one on top!! That's just not fair!! You've been trying to fuck him for almost two months, and he's trying to steal your show!!
“Hiromi, I know what you're trying to-!! F-fuck!!” He cut you off!! He got his hands and used his thumbs to pull your entrance open, throwing your legs over his shoulders. He savagely stuck his tongue out and quickly shook and rolled it over your pulsing hole. Head swaying around your wetness, his beautiful nose flicking over your clit. He was making a whole mess of your juices, eating you like his last meal.
You couldn't even form words; all you could do was moan and whine. Going dumb over your husband's head game. He picked up on the signs you were giving. Shuttering legs, filthy noises, head snapped back like some cheesy horror movie. You were about to cum.
“Cum in my mouth, baby,” Hiromi demanded. “Soak my face.” he teased, looking up at you from between your legs before we quickly went back down again to feast.
You silently nodded, holding a moan behind your bitten lips as the coil tensed in your gut. Completely forgetting about him not letting you top, you didn't even care. You just wanted him to fuck your brains out, if you even still had any left.
Hiromi quickly strummed his tongue back and forth over your clit, and then jammed two fingers into your gummy walls, quickly thrusting his fingers exactly into your g-spot, making you whine loud enough to echo through the apartment.
He watched as your juices ran down his palm like a waterfall, continuing to finger-fuck your G-spot, splashing your fluids over his shirt. “Our neighbors hate us,” he laughed to himself. Watching you struggle to catch your breath.
“Baby??” you sighed.
“Hm?”
“Why are your clothes still on??”
“Huh??”
“Take them off.” You commanded him, and to no surprise, he looked a little flabbergasted. Like all his confidence flew out the window the second you came. To take him out of his trance, you bit your lip and arched your brows at him, putting two fingers over your slit and rolling them in circles. Giving him a little show as you touched yourself.
And just like that, he sprang up. Throwing off his wet button-down shirt and started clumsily fiddling with his belt. His eyes flicked between you and then back to the pants he was desperately trying to peel off.
You giggled at him when he finally got his pants off, but the laughing stopped when he got his boxers off, and you saw what he was hiding under there for the past two months.
His shaft looked heavy, thick, and had maybe a vein or two, while his tip was flushed red with a glossed layer of precum over it. You weren't sure if your poor pussy could take it!!
Before a word could leave your mouth, he rushed over you and used his hand to roll his throbbing tip around the edges of your sweet, sensitive sex. And before you could even process, he had a hand on your waist and one on your hip, and pushed his length into your warmth at a slowish, painful pace. And yet you couldn't stop mewling into his sleeve.
His cock bottomed out inside of you, kissing and nudging at your cervix. Hiromi gently pushed himself up into your sweet spot, just to feel your walls flutter around him and your legs quiver at his hips.
“S-shit..” Hiromi gasped. “I love this pussy…” He kissed your earlobe as he held the sides of the table and started to thrust himself into you, back and forth. The table rocked into the wall repeatedly as your husband fucked you. The feeling of your tailbones on the hardwood table was oh so uncomfortable, but you've been waiting for this sex for so long that it would have to do.
He started to slam himself into you at a dizzying pace, your sopping cunt soaked his balls, making a wet slapping sound against your ass amongst the quiet night. You couldn't stop yourself from shaking and felt tears well up at the corners of your eyes, teasing their release.
“You gonna cum again??” Hiromi growled into your ear. “Gonna cum all over my cock??” He pushed you all the way onto your back and started ruthlessly pounding that sensitive gummy spot deep inside you. Filthy sounds flooded the room as you went absolutely stupid for him.
“Mhm!!” You moaned behind pouting lips. “I love you!!” You cried. Mind flooded with emotions for your lover. It had been so long since he was in your firm walls, and it felt like home.
“Fuck yeah, y/n.” He smiled at you. “That's my girl. Tighten for me, baby.” He gripped your hips hard and pulled you right to the edge of the desk. You did just as he told you, like a dog. You clenched around him as if you were doing kegels, and just as you did,
You felt your orgasm tear out of your guts and spill between your legs.
Hiromi didn't give you any time to recover; instead, he picked you up and held you right against him, your legs with no choice but to wrap around him as he slammed his cock into you. Letting your body bounce over his hips every time he bucked upwards into your spasming pussy.
“Fuck!! Oh my god!!” you screamed into his shoulder, as if it muffled anything. The stamina that this man had was insane!! He could've been in the Olympics the way he was running your pussy!!
“You're my little whore for the night, aren't you, baby??” Hiromi whispered those sexy insults into your ear as he carried you to the bedroom. He threw you onto the bed and quickly took off the remainder of his suit. “Take that shit off.” He nodded his head to your wet, silky nightgown. And without hesitation, you threw it into the laundry basket across the room.
Hiromi grabbed your hips and threw you onto your stomach. The messy comforter on the bed skimmed your hardened nipples like a massage as Hiromi forced your back into an arch.
“Hmnn?! You're still going?!” You exclaimed. At this point, you were just never going to sleep.
“I've gotta cum too, yknow?” He pointed out as he slammed himself into you from behind. Knocking all the air from your lungs and forcing them out in a moan. “You have no idea how hard it was to try and stay focused on my work, so hard when my sexy wife kept teasing me when I had important work!!” It seemed as if he was taking out his pent-up frustration from work on you. He was almost rearranging your guts with his harsh slams.
“This is all I've wanted!!” you yelled back at him. “I just wanted you, Hiro!! I wanted you to notice me!! Be with me!!” You tried to hold a serious conversation, even if you were mid intercourse. “You don't always have to lock yourself away!! Just let me be your weakness every once in a while!!”
That's where he just about had it.
Hiromi wrapped his arm around your neck and choked you with his bicep, holding you in a headlock as he seemed to be strangling you. But it was still so hot. “Is this what you wanted?? You wanted my attention, right?!” He yelled at you. “You want me to pump this pretty cunt full of my cum?!”
“Fuck!! yesyesYES!!” You cried, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you choked out your words. “I missed everything!! I missed you!! I missed all the things we did together!! I missed this dick!!”
He pistoned himself all the way in and grunted through his release. Hot robes of sloppy seed littering your tunnel. Punishing your guts as you came one more time around him, milking him for his cum.
Hiromi gently pulled out of you, looking at the wreckage between your thighs as if he were an artist admiring his latest masterpiece. Like Norman fucking Rockwell.
You caught your breath, and he held onto you and pulled you to his chest. Kissing your cheek. Catching up in a soft moment of intimacy together. It felt so nice to finally do something together for once.
“So how have you been, baby??” Hiromi breathed out.
After both of you had cleaned up, you slid on a new nightgown and joined your husband in bed, a comforting sweetheart's cradle for aftercare.
“I'm so sorry for neglecting you in my attention, y/n.” Hiromi apologized. “You mean everything, and I just got too carried away with my work and-!!”
“Shhushhh…” You comforted. “It's okay, I'm not mad.” You smiled for reassurance.
“And I'm sorry I said you were my whore for the night!!” He quickly stumbled out. “You're so much more to me than that!!”
You couldn't help but giggle at how apologetic he was. Compared to how he was unapologetically ruining you an hour ago.
“Let's go out tomorrow!! Let's have breakfast together!!” Hiromi demanded. “You deserve everything, and I need to catch up on loving you!!” He pleaded to you as he sprang from the mattress.
“Alright, but that's later.” You shifted him back down to the pillow. “Now, it's time for us to sleep.” You gently rested your head back down on his chest.
“...finally.” you whispered.
He let out a little giggle, but then drifted to sleep so quickly.
“y/n?!” Hiromi called through the apartment. “You ready to go?? It's almost time for the reservation!!” He anxiously checked his silver watch beneath his brown winter coat.
“Yeah!! Coming!!” You applied your last brush of mascara and two quick puffs of perfume before rushing to the door. Slipping on your cute fur boots in front of your husband as he towered over you. “Let's go!!’ You exclaimed as you laced the last string. Taking Hiromi's hand to lift you.
“It's cold out, you gonna get your scarf?” He suggested. He didn't want his darling wife to get cold now, did he??
“I'll be fine!! Now come on were already gonna be late!!” You took him and rushed the two of you out the door.
“And whose fault is that?” He joked. You just swatted at his arm as he laughed to himself.
The two of you reached the elevator and joined your two neighbors, who were a lovely older couple.
God, you hoped they didn't hear you last night.
The cold from the building was already sending goosebumps down your body, and you were used to the warm blankets from last night that you overlooked everything. It was embarrassing, but you had to admit that Hiromi was right.
“Honey?? Could you hold the elevator for me??” You blushed before you could even say it. “I'm gonna go get my scarf…” Hiromi's face lit up in an “I told you so” kind of way.
“Of course. Just be fast, sweetheart.” Hiromi smirked. “Don't hold us up.” He teased you again. God, he sure was cocky the morning after.
You rushed down the hall back to your apartment, leaving your husband with the sweet couple in the elevator.
“She is a doll, isn't she??” The old lady complimented. “You are a lucky boy!” She let out a soft smile to the shy man. The lady holding her husband's arm.
“Yes, I am.” Hiromi blushed, failing at hiding his smile. “Shes the light of my life. Don't know what I’d do without her.”
“You two are just like my husband and me when we were younger!! Now we're just lazy old bums!!” The older lady joked. The couple laughed together. Hiromi laughed with them.
“I think it's sweet that you two have stayed together that long.” Hiromi returned a compliment.
“You and that girl have a spark that my wife and I have. I'm sure that you two will grow old together just like us.” The old man smiled at Hiromi in his flustered state.
“I'm sure we will.” Hiromi smiled. A moment of silence passed in the waiting elevator.
“You know, I think it's wonderful that the two of you are trying for a baby!!” The old lady misunderstood. They definitely heard last night.
It took a moment to register in Hiromi's lagging head.
“WHAT?!”
A/N : hope u liked it !! lmk if u want a part twoo !!
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All written content belongs to @snuxxy! do not reupload, translate, or feed my work into ai. I do not own the original characters, art used, or banners above.
Why do toxic fanfics keep popping up on my fyp, like no I don't want Gojo cheating on me, fucking me as an apology and me actually FORGIVING him???. I need a man who is OBSESSED with me and wouldn't even think of looking at another woman. The only fanfics that truly still my hunger are yander fics.
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Synopsis₊˚ Every since your family expanded Gojo has been obsessed
Contents: Dad Gojo AU, fluff
It’s not like he hasn’t been obsessed with you since the moment he saw you, but something about seeing you pregnant made it different. Something about the thought of a mini growing in you him made his heart weak.
Everyday before work a kiss was placed on your temple and then on your stomach along with a whisper about excitement.
And when he came home to you laying on the couch his chest tightened. He kneels down, his head in your lap.
“I’ve missed you two so much.” He says as his hands wrap around your hips and a kiss is placed to your belly.
And when you were doing anything in the kitchen a hug from behind would find you. His warm hand settling under your stomach and his lips finding your neck. Then he would swiftly turn you around taking over what you were doing. Saying something about “over working yourself”
This went for anything, tying your shoe, reaching for something, showering, and even simple things like sitting down. Satoru lived to serve you, because all he thought about was you and the baby’s safety and comfort.
And when the baby came Satoru was right by your side. Encouraging words and a firm grasp on your hand. We cried even more that you out of fear and happiness. But when the baby came to his arms his tears were paused, his lips parting silently at the sight. As you rubbed his arm a smile grew and a soft “Thank you” escaped his lips.
When you were finally settled at home he never let you do anything, even more than before. Carrying the baby around everywhere he went, taking the responsibility of everything even night and diaper duty. He would do anything if it meant he could hold his baby and let your rest.
Many days you would wake up late to find him shirtless washing bottles in the kitchen. The baby curled into his warm chest, breath soft and slow. As your hand slid up his back you kissed the sleeping child and settled your head on his shoulder. Satoru pressed a kiss to your forehead looking you sincerely in the eyes.
“I love you both, more than anything.” He said pulling you closer and leaning into ur shoulder. “
Thank you for reading pls put request in the comments ₊˚⊹ ᰔ
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