CW: angry sex, squirting, dirty talk, michael receiving head, messy sex, michael's big pp, creampie
Word Count: 3k
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1994
You and Michael arguing non-stop, turning the house into an emotional minefield. Like repelling magnets, you found yourselves gravitating to opposite corners of the house, maintaining a careful distance as if the very air between you was charged with tension.
It all started off because you couldn't stomach his latest stunt. What, are you supposed to be his personal cheerleader, nodding
along to every harebrained scheme? Give me a break.
Now you're both playing this stupid game of emotional chicken, tiptoeing around the house like it's a game of hide and not seek. It's not like you asked for this silent treatment bullshit, but hell if you're gonna cave in first. Michael can stew in his own idiocy for all you care. You're not about to crawl at his feet, begging for forgiveness like some pathetic, kicked puppy. Let him make the first move, if he's got the balls.
tap, tap, tap
You slumped against the living room window, letting out a sigh as raindrops pelted the glass. The late-night downpour was oddly soothing, a welcome distraction from the tension hanging in the air. Despite everything, you found yourself relaxing into the rhythmic patter, almost hypnotized by the silvery trails streaking down the pane.
Your eyes traced the zigzagging paths of water droplets on the window, picking two to pit against each other in a race. It was a mindless distraction, reminiscent of long, boring car rides from your childhood. Back then, you'd entertain yourself for hours with these made up games.
Creeeaak
The door creaked open, and you caught sight of Michael through the glass panels. "Oh, for fuck's sake," you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes. What the hell did he want now? Probably here to spout more bullshit or pick another fight. You braced yourself, already feeling your blood pressure rise. This better be good, or you swear to God...
You expected Michael to at least acknowledge your existence, but nope! He breezed past you like you were invisible, snatched a book off the shelf, and walked out without so much as a glance. What a dick move. Now you were sure he was just trying to get under your skin. Well, two could play at that game. You silently flipped him off as the door clicked shut behind him.
Fucking prick. Seriously? He drags his ass all the way over here just to play mind games? Two can tango, asshole. Time to give him a taste of his own bullshit. I'm about to make his life a living hell.
You leapt up, fueled by petty rage, and stormed into the hallway. There was Michael, strutting down the corridor like he owned the place. Perfect. You picked up your pace, aiming straight for him like a heat-seeking missile. As you closed in, you "accidentally" rammed your shoulder into his arm, hard enough to make him stumble. Without breaking stride, you breezed past, a smug grin playing on your lips.
