𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐞|| {18+} 𝗠𝗝

𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄 - ad-dick-tion

There came her weak attempt to defend herself, her voice cracking under the weight of her tears. "You is not finna' talk to me like I'm some low down dirty whore! I stuck by ya side-"

"I never asked you to, Lakeisha." Michael groaned, standing up from his spot on the couch, walking into her personal space, towering over her five feet stature. He sniffled, and rubbed his nose then continued speaking the ill words his heart carried. "Let's be honest, you self-proclaimed yaself my girl, after a month. When did I ever ask you to be mine?" He asked her, his index finger caressing the soft skin of her chin, tilting her head up so he could stare into her beautiful hazel eyes. They were wet with tears and pain, his favorite sight.

"Michael, this not fair-" she tried to say but got interrupted again, this time, by a loud kiss he put on her lips with his, before licking them, whispering 'life isn't fair' on them, kissing her again.

"You chose this life, I didn't make the choice fuh you. So you gotta deal with the consequences, Lakeisha. You're one fine ass bitch tho. Fuckin' you is always a pleasure." He finished then let her face go, smacking her ass cheek before walking away towards their bedroom. He left her there, crying all the tears she still had left within her, wondering why she was even allowing him to treat her like shit, breaking her self-esteem every time he'd open his mouth. Well at that point, she was used to it, so she'd just take it and accept it.

She sniffled away the last few tears, dropping the pictures she was holding, on the floor, before marching towards their bedroom. He was there, standing at the window, staring at a faraway point into the sky which was changing colors as the sun began to set above their city. It was a beautiful pink, stained by some blue still present. His chest was naked, his numerous tattoos adorning his discolored skin due to his vitiligo. He had a hand in his pants, his other one holding the butt of the blunt that he was almost done smoking. His hair— soft curls styled into a Jheri curl, the 80s hairstyle he was still rocking in 2019. It suited him, so he didn't care.

He put the butt of his blunt on the ashtray, then walked back towards their bed, laying down comfortably on his back, his leg spread, his left arm under his head serving as support. His eyes became heavy with sleep, but as soon as he saw her walking out of the bathroom, dressed in her satin booty short and white tank top with her goodies in full display, bouncing with every step she'd take, his sight became as clear as day. His low eyes due to how high he was, studied her movements closely, his hand moving deeper in his pants as he grew hard. That was the power she had over him. He never fronted about how her body did things to him. As addicted as she was to his dick, it was the same when it came to him and her body.

Lakeisha Jonette Savage was blessed in every way, by God himself, from front to back. Her skin-- rich melanated brown skin, was the cherry on top. Her ass was heavy, and sat perfectly above her toned legs she perfected in the gym. Her breasts were perky to the point where she didn't even need a bra. Men and women detested Michael for how he was treating such a gift from God when they knew she deserved way better. But, being treated that way was her own choice.

He kept on watching as she strutted around the room, walking to the drawer where a good amount of his firearms were located. She pulled it open, drawing one of the G19s it contained, then closed it with her foot. A smirk pulled at Michael's lips, as he was still watching her. She got into the bed, straddling his ap, stretching her arm with the gun in her hand, aiming it at his head. Her face was closed, bearing no emotion. She was staring straight into his eyes, pressing the gun against his forehead, her thumb fumbling with the safety.

They were both quiet for two long minutes, Michael seeming unbothered on the outside, completely confident that nothing would happen, on the inside. He knew her all too well. She was about that life, and could shoot him if she wanted to, but she wouldn't shoot him. She could never bring herself to. She drew in a sharp breath, finally pulling the safety, pressing her index on the trigger. Michael laughed, caressing her thighs, his hands slowly inching towards her ass. He kissed his teeth, then looked at her.