“Mikey, it’s normal I promise.” You slowly moved his hands from his eyes, his shy nature coming into play. He couldn’t bear that you could see him in such a vulnerable position.
He’s on the couch, denim jeans and boxers pulled down to the middle of his thighs, his chest heaving as he looked into your seductive eyes. You were stroking his hard length with a small smile on your face.
“A-are you sure? This feels…wrong.” He said glancing around your dolled up room. You nodded giving him a genuine smile, hiding the fact you want to so badly hear his whimpers fill your room.
“It’s so hard, I just wanted to help you out.” You cooed at him rubbing his thigh with your opposite hand making his abdomen clench at the feeling. He slowly nodded, thinking of how he ended up here.
••••
You guys were simply watching television, blabbing about his music ideas. He recalled you reaching over him to grab your empty cup, that was previously filled with orange juice.
When you leaned over, his eyes drifted to your cleavage that were directly in his line of view. He closed his eyes, a bit too late clearly, feeling the slow ache in his boxers.
“Be right back.” You exclaimed walking to the kitchen and once you were out of his line of sight, he tried to adjust his pants, attempting to hide the stiff print becoming more obvious.
Fortunately, unfortunately you noticed it, and offered to help. He didn’t put much of a fight, continuously spewing of how y’all are friends and he’ll be okay. You so easily shooed his words away, settling on your knees.
••••
“Oh g-god.” Michael shivered once he felt your warm mouth on him. His hands came to rest on your shoulders, as a shield from the overwhelming pressure he just received.
His eyes rolled back as you only took him deeper, your hands coming to rest on his large ones moving them out of the way. You placed them by his sides, using the strength you had to hold them down.
You began to speed up your pace, as he let out a river of whimpers, hands clenching into fist. “T-too much.” His voice cracked, hips uncontrollably bucking into your mouth. His tip hit the back of your throat, cuing a gag reflex. Michael would’ve hated to admit it, but it made him so much more turned on.
You moaned around him, enjoying the pre-cum easing out of his tip, only encouraging you to suck him harder. You released one of his wrists to grasp the rest of his dick that couldn’t fit into your mouth, gently rubbing up and down.
“P-please.” Michael whimpered, legs quivering as his free hand rested on top of your head. You hummed around him, not slowing down. “I’m close.” He whimpered, as his hand on your head began to slowly push you farther down.
He didn’t mean to do it, he wasn’t even thinking about it, brain practically melting from your mouth. He was in a different world, as his orgasm began to rise in his stomach.
His hips couldn’t stay still, grinding into your throat as your tongue swirled around him. “C-coming!” He called out with a broken moan as ropes of his sperm spilled into your mouth.
You happily swallowed, still sucking him through his orgasm until he was whining. His hands came up to push you off, and you gave one final suck, getting up with a pop.
۫ ܸ ❤︎ ׅ ۫ jaafar putting you in headlock ໒ྀི⠀ ⁺
cw. 18+ mdni. written from this thought. he's hitting it from the back. size kink? maybe ooc jaafar ? he's just stern n uses his strength. nicknames (babe & ma).
jaafar's fingers dig into the plush of your hips, angling them upward to meet his thrust. while your spine curves, face pressed against the now soaked pillow from you drool. eyes rolling back when jaafar's cock sinks the length of his cock back into your heat, nudging that too hard to reach spot just right.
"i know, babe," he coos in a hushed tone, a hand pawing at your hip when you let out a gurgled hgn, "doing s'well takin' it."
leaning down he places a peck on your shoulder, slowing his pace to roll his hips, his cock snug within your cunt. nudging his nose against your nape, adorning another kiss on your damp skin.
when you turn your head away from him, eyes screwed shut as you try to push yourself further into the pillow ⎯ further away from from jaafar and the weight of his toned body pressed against yours and the stretch of his cock.
"c'mon ma, wanna see you," he rasped, forehead falling against your shoulder. the sounds of your whines has him pulling up off of you, his feathery touch tracing down your back until they land on the plumpness of your ass.
it's still, just for moment. the room is no longer filled with the sound of skin slapping and squelching, now replaced with the heavy breathing between you two.
the sudden movement of one of jaafar's hand soothes up and down your back, his pinky accidentally brushing against the side of your breast each time. it takes you by surprise when the same hand grips at the crook of your neck before swiftly enclosing your head between his forearm and bicep, pussy flutter around his length from the unexpectedness of the action.
his hold on you isn't rough, but it's stern, causing your head to lull back. a whimper slips out when jaafar places his weight back on you, his head dipping back down to meet yours so that there's no other choice than for your glossy eyes to meet his.
"please⎯" you choked out, lifting your hips up, hands clawing at the messy bedsheets at your attempt to escape your boyfriend's hold, "it's t'much."
"i know, ma," voice laced with fake sympathy, "but you can't be askin' for me and then running from me at the same time." leaning down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss.
pulling away from kiss, a few strings of saliva breaking, "but that's okay, this'll keep you from runnin'," he purs.
Genre: SMUT!!(MDNI), Established Relationship. University!AU
Warnings: AGAIN SMUT!! (MDNI), I mean pure filth. Que-Dawg!Jermajesty (Valid warning). Jermajesty pretends to be non-chalant(ends up very chalant.) Cussing. Use of the ‘n’ word. Jealous!Jerpapi. Arguing. Reader is manhandled more than once. Violence. Reader is referred to as Jermajesty’s “Bitch”, Car sex. Toe sucking. Coochie slapping (once). Oral!(Fem. Receiving). Squirting! P in V, Unprotected! Possessive sex. Slight breeding kink (?), Slight dacryphilia (?). Twin I can’t lie, this is overly freaked out..
Summary: Everyone knows that you and Jermajesty are the ‘it’ couple on campus. Everyone also knows your boyfriend is president of the most notorious frat there, Omega Psi Phi. At the biggest party of the year, during their routine stroll, Jermajesty gets a little too beside himself. Since you aren’t one to be taken for a fool, you decide to get beside someone else.
W.C: 5.4k
Author’s Note: Credit for this log idea and moodboard goes straight to @siiighrns. Y’all, I fear I went a lil ham on this one. BUT it’s really good! (I’m biased). As always, thank you for reading! Share what you think, reblog if you love it!
-Love, B. 🤍 ↪ The Archive.
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The music is already shaking the walls by the time you step inside. Heat hits first, then the smell of smoke, sweat, and liquor. Bodies press shoulder to shoulder, and people dance wherever they can find space; others cling to the walls like a lifeline. Someone’s yelling over the music about body shots, a sorority girl is laughing too loudly, and in the darker corners of the house, couples are already latching onto each other, swapping a little more than spit. Homecoming always does this: turns the whole campus into one restless cesspool of drunk, loud, horny twenty-somethings. This party is the one everybody’s been waiting for; the football game against the opposing university had been won with a staggering victory, and now it was time to let loose. Omega Psi Phi always does it big, and this year is no exception.
You stick close to your girls as you move through the crowd, eyes adjusting, taking it all in. The energy bothers you. Everything feels too loud, maybe even reckless. The mess around you isn’t your problem; Jermajesty is. The way he’d been acting all day had pissed you off. Short answers, stuck off in his phone, hellbent on like you were his biggest inconvenience.
You tried to talk to him more than once, wanting to know what crawled so far up his ass and died that he’d call you ‘bruh’ for most of the day. Still, he gave you nothing but annoyed sighs and kissed teeth. Fed up, you decided to go to the party on your own. Since your boyfriend wanted to act like you were such a bother, he didn’t have to worry about you.
Now you’re here, scoping out the scene, almost sure he’s cooled off by now. It doesn’t take long to find him, and when you do, your stomach drops. ‘Off the Leash’ by Gucci Mane blares in the background. He’s locked in on some bitch like you don’t even exist. She’s all up on him, titties nearly spilling out of her cheap dress, laughing and feeling on his arms. He’s eating it up, rolling his head from side to side, tongue flicking out with a smile, moving like he’s a free agent. He pulls his shirt off and tosses it somewhere in the crowd. The chain you got him for his birthday glints in the light against the wife-beater he had on underneath. His large frame hovers over hers. The muscles in his back flex as he moves. You stare for a second too long, and his eyes catch yours, winking before pushing himself back onto the girl.
“This nigga trippin.” You mutter, more to yourself than anybody else. Anger settles in your chest while you watch him, eyes stinging as you take in the scene before you. The longer you stare, the clearer it gets. He’s comfortable embarrassing you. He’s acting like you don’t even exist, like he doesn’t know the only reason you came was him.
Your jaw clenches so hard your teeth hurt, but you force your expression to stay neutral. You’re not about to be that girl, pressed, kicking and screaming in the middle of a party just because your man ain’t shit. The two girls you came with scoff, rubbing your back apologetically. Imani, your closest friend since freshman year, speaks first. “Leave that nigga where he is, baby. He’s clearly busy.” Your other friend, Niyah, pipes up next. “Yeah, girl, forget his ass! It’s plenty of niggas here that would kiss yours. Let’s go find em’ and get fucked up like we came to!”
Niyah was right about that, you looked the fuck good. Eyes had been on you since you walked into the cramped space. Your braids are freshly done, the face card never declines, and the outfit draping your frame didn’t help either, leaving very little to the imagination. Nothing extravagant, just a plum colored mini-dress that hugged you tight, coupled with a strappy pair of open-toed heels. Still, nobody does it like you. As you think about all the ways you can get even, the girl fawning over your boyfriend takes his hand and leads him deeper into the sea of people.
You make up your mind fast, and with a single nod to your friends, you let them guide you in the opposite direction, toward something that feels more in your control. As you move through the horde of undergrads, your mind focuses on the way your boyfriend practically disowned you in front of everybody, and it becomes crystal clear that liquor is going to be your best friend tonight.
Shot after shot passes through your glossed lips, slowly but surely numbing the irritation that has settled over your spirit. The hurt is still there, but it’s starting to blur at the edges. As the liquid courage flows through your veins, you get the bright idea to scale the kitchen counter and dance a little bit, hoping to distract yourself from him. Yells of encouragement from onlookers spur you on, and just as you get ready to bend over, your eyes find him again. He’s behind a different girl now, his hands roaming her body, softer than when it’s yours, whispering something in her ear with a smirk. The enthusiasm drains out of you as quickly as it came. Suddenly, the counter is too high to stand. on. You swallow the lump in your throat.
Before the pain can linger, rival frat Kappa Alpha Psi arrives. The sound of glass breaking rattles from the speakers as Soulja Boy’s ‘Prettyboy Swag,’ begins, changing from Omega's theme to Kappas. The crowd parts just enough, and eyes start drifting toward them. They stroll through, slow and steady. Instead of stepping back and ignoring it as is expected of you, you move fast. You place yourself right where you’ll be seen, with less than pure intentions. It doesn’t take their president long to lock onto you. Ah, Rakheem Jones. Tall, dark, and impossibly charming. An academic beast with a smile that could stop any girl’s heart, someone you’d explicitly been told to stay away from. Oh yeah, you’d hit the fucking jackpot.
He moves through the room like he owns the air around him, stopping the stroll in front of you with an exaggerated swagger. His eyes drag slowly from your face, down your body, and back up again, taking his time on purpose. All you see in front of you is quiet certainty, the kind that tells you exactly what he wants. He isn’t Jermajesty, not by a long shot, but you can’t deny that he’s pretty damn close. Close enough for you right now.
A smile breaks on his face as his frat brothers bounce in step. He spreads his arms out, palms facing up in an open invitation, and you let your body answer for you. Though you are no doubt very drunk, every movement is intentional. Jermajesty’s reaction is now an afterthought. If he could have his fun, why couldn’t you? Your lips curl into something slow and dangerous, the bottom one caught between your teeth as you step forward and spin around. You bend at the waist, hands sliding down your legs and stopping at your ankles, nasty and slow; a move typically reserved for the man making a mockery of you across the room.
As your hips rock from side to side, the dress hugging your frame rides up, showing off your lace panties; it’s retaliation disguised as a proposition, but Rakheem doesn’t need to know that. It’s effortless, the way your ass moves in this dress. It should be a crime. Shouts of approval ring throughout the room. Rakheem steps in, palming your rear like he’s been given permission. He presses into you, testing the waters, and when you don’t pull away, he makes another move. Next thing you know, his hands wrap around the back of your thighs, and you’re in the air.
High above the crowd, sitting on his shoulders, you feel the room erupt because everybody knows what that means. He’s claimed you for the night. Cheers break out all over.
“Ain’t that Maj’s girl?”
“Oh shit–it is!”
One of the other Nupes yells out, “Aye! She with the Nupes now!”
The words spread fast, cutting through the music and the noise. All eyes are trained on the two of you, and you can’t help but bask in it. Someone passes you a cup, and you raise it toward the sky. You toss the drink back, and with a shout, you unknowingly seal your fate for the night. “She with the Nupes now!” Across the room, Jermajesty hears it before he understands it. Ain’t no way he just heard…what he thinks he heard. He tries to ignore the commotion.
Tries to. He’s caught up in his own game of pretending he doesn’t care, but that nonchalant shit flies out the window when he takes a quick glance around the room. Everything stops. There you are. Elevated above everybody else, laughing, moving like you don’t have a care in the world…on another man’s shoulders, practically humping his head. The sight is like a slap in the face, and the shock turns to fury.
And it’s not just any man, you’re too petty for that. It was Kappa Alpha Psi’s fucking president. Jermajesty’s teeth grind together, and his hands ball into fists. The girl in front of him grabs his face gently, trying to bring his attention back to her. “Focus on me, baby. She don’t mean nothing.” When he registers her acrylics grazing his jaw, he nearly growls in disgust, no longer interested in her advances. With an open palm and five fingers, he mushes her back, “Fuck off me.” She stumbles and looks at him like he just lost his mind. She just might be right about that. Jermajesty doesn’t waste any more time and pushes through the crowd, fuming.
By the time he gets close, you’re fully gone, rolling your body, completely unbothered. Then your eyes meet his, and you laugh. Not small or nervous, no, one big boisterous cackle that displays just how little you care. Again, while looking him dead in the eye, you chant, “She with the motherfuckin’ Nupes now!” Your smile stretches ear to fucking ear. Rakheem follows your lead, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Real slow like, the rival Greek plants his hands firmly on your waist and lifts you over his head, guiding your body down until your feet hit the floor. Rakheem then presses a deep arch into your spine, positioning you exactly how he wants you, eyes locked on Jermajesty the entire time. He only has time to roll his hips once. That’s it, the disrespect is too loud for him to ignore.
Jermajesty snaps, shoving you aside roughly, fist already in motion. It connects clean with Rakheem’s jaw, the crack sharp enough to cut through the music. Just like that, everything explodes. Omegas step in immediately, forming up behind their president without hesitation. Kappas surge forward just as fast, not about to let theirs get dropped without response.
The party morphs into shouting, pushing, and different hues of purple and red colliding with each other. Phones come out, and flashlights illuminate the brawl; the partygoers are having a ball with this, no doubt staring lives and reporting in on Snapchat. The frat's reputation could very well be on the line, but Jermajesty could give a fuck less. All he cares about is bodying the nigga dumb enough to touch his bitch. He’s got Rakheem by the back of his shirt. “Fucked up!” he yells, fist connecting again. “You. Got. Me. Fucked. Up.” Each word lands with another hit. Rakheem tries to defend himself, but he’s outmatched. Jermajesty is bigger, stronger, and fueled by nothing but alcohol and jealousy. The poor Kappa’s licks are as soft as cotton balls.
Your boyfriend doesn’t stop until Rakheem’s limp, no longer able to fight back, and far too weak to hold himself up. He leans in, making sure the Kappa’s president looks him in the eye. Voice low and dangerous, he speaks, “Try that shit again. Watch what I do.” He drops Rakheem and stands to his full height, chest rising fast, and finally looks around. His brothers are still fighting, having dealt out the same kind of damage to the rest of Kheem’s posse. Jermajesty can’t let this get any worse, or he’ll have a meeting with the dean come Monday. He inhales once, then lets out a loud bark. His fraternity falls back, bellowing out their own barks in response to his call. Across from them, the Kappas hesitate, but ultimately decide they’ve taken a big enough loss tonight. They pull away, dragging Rakheem with them, and just like that, it's over. The music creeps back up, loud chatter resumes, and bodies start to move again, like nothing even happened.
When the dust settles completely, and Jermajesty is sure no one else is going to try him, he turns to face you, “Say your little goodbyes, and take your ass to the car.” His voice holds a finality that you really can’t argue with. You stand there for a moment, testing whether or not defiance would fare well for you. When he blows through his nose, you understand the answer is no. Doing as he says, you find Mani and Niyah and offer them quick hugs. “Ooh! Somebody in trouble!” Niyah starts, “Mhmm, little Ms. ‘She with the nupes now!’ Nah, more like she done did it now!” Mani finishes. You roll your eyes. They’re right, you’re in deep shit, but you won’t admit it.
“Shut up. That nigga had it comin’.” They giggle and kiss your cheek goodbye, wishing you luck. As you make your way toward the door, you feel eyes on you again. Some of Jermajesty’s frat brothers cast betrayed glances in your direction. “Fuck are y’all looking at?” They shake their heads and wave you off, “Nothing, Nupe.” You sigh, completely over tonight. The walk to the car is long and uncomfortable as you reflect on how everything unfolded. The thought that you might’ve done too much crosses your mind. Did Jermajesty really deserve that kind of betrayal? Flashes of him caressing someone else with so much care and tenderness replay. Yes the fuck he did.
The sleek, black BMW, which had been given to Jermajesty as a graduation gift, comes into view. It was fully loaded: all-black interior, leather seats, moonroof, and custom headrests with his and your initials. Arms folded, you lean against the door, anxiety washing over your bones. What if he breaks up with you over this? The move you made was bold and not something to be taken lightly in the Greek world. You still love him, but god does he piss you off. While you ponder, his voice cuts through the air as he says his goodbyes. You shift on your feet as an unsettling feeling nestles deep in your gut. He stalks toward you now, aura anything but safe, letterman jacket clutched tightly in his right hand. Jermajesty’s head tilts to the side as he lifts his free hand to his face, brows furrowed, rubbing his jaw as his gaze locks on you. His gait is strong; each step he takes feels like it has the magnitude of a devastating earthquake. He’s pissed.
“The fuck was that? Huh?” Jermajesty asks, eyes hard, voice eerily calm. Your arms unfold, and you stare at him in disbelief. Did he seriously have the nerve to be calling you out right now? “I could ask you the same damn thing, Jermajesty!” He cuts his gaze to the side, trying to keep his composure. “You’ve been pissy all fuckin’ day. I tried over and over again to check up on you, make sure you were straight, and what do you do? Treat me like I’m some regular bitch, that’s what!” Your arms fly around frantically as you speak. His eyes return to yours, daring you to keep going. You accept, and double down continuing the tirade, “And THEN, when I pull up to this fuck ass party, that I didn’t even want to be at by the way, what do I find? You. Snug as a bug in a fuckin’ rug with some random. Get the fuck outta my face with that ‘Fuck was that?’ bullshit, Majesty. Seriously.”
He glances away, nodding a few times before speaking, “You done?” That’s it? That’s all he has to offer you? Having reached a boiling point, a response dripping with venom leaves your lips. “Nah, nigga. We done.” Jermajesty chuckles, unlocking the car and tossing his jacket in the backseat. “Yeah, okay.” He didn’t think you were serious. Sure, you’ve both been through this song and dance plenty of times before, but you always stay. With a huff, you throw your arms up and spin on your heels, starting in the other direction, hoping it’s not too late to catch a ride with Mani. “How the fuck you gon get home, y/n?” He asks, amusement lacing his tone. You growl and turn back around, “I don’t know Jermajesty! Maybe the Kappas will take me in.”
His eyes darken, and in two quick steps, he’s in front of you. “Get your ass…in the fuckin’ car.” You roll your eyes and push his chest, creating some distance. “Fuck. No.” You snarl, “This ain't even the first time you’ve pulled some shit like this. I’m fucking done, Jermaj—” Your words catch in your throat when his right hand wraps around your wrist, and he drags you into him. His other hand comes up to grip your chin as he pulls you into a searing kiss. You curse internally, feeling yourself melt as his soft, plush lips move against yours. The hand holding your wrist moves to your back, pressing you closer as he deepens the kiss. It trails down further, cupping your ass and squeezing. The action makes you gasp, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth.
You both wrestle for dominance, but another firm squeeze to your behind leaves Jermajesty as the victor. When you part, his lips are covered in a thin film of gloss, matching yours. “Ma,” He whispers soft and low, “If you think you leavin’ me…you out yo fuckin’ mind. I’m not gon’ tell your little ass again, get in the car.” This time, dazed, you listen. Slipping into the passenger side and clicking your seatbelt in place. Jermajesty follows suit, starting the engine and peeling out with a quickness. As he drives, you notice the way his large hands grip the wheel, knuckles white as he seethes.
After some time, he pulls into an empty parking lot, throws the beemer in park, and gets out. The back door on the driver’s side swings open, and he slips in. Your boyfriend leans back and spreads his legs wide. You look over your shoulder to find his eyes locked on you. “Strip.” He says, low and dark. Unsure of whether or not he’s serious, you freeze. He lifts a brow, wondering what’s taking you so long. Message received. You shimmy out of your dress in the seat and work on your heels next. Once finished, you move to climb over the center console. “Uh-uh, all of it.” You pause, glancing down at your body, still clad in your bra, and the same panties you were so keen on showing off earlier. Peeking back up at your boyfriend, you see his arms are now resting behind his head as he waits with practiced restraint.
Sitting back, gradually, you peel the last layer of clothing and dignity off your body. Jermajesty revels in your beauty, eyes raking up and down your form twice, before patting his thigh. Now, given permission, you slip into the back of the car and onto his lap. Jermajesty's head is tipped up, and his hands, rough and calloused, hold your waist softly, as if he’ll break you if he isn’t careful. He lets a deep breath out through his nose and looks into your eyes, “You know I love you, right, mama?” Though it didn’t feel like just moments ago, you still nod, big doe eyes peering back at him. “Good, because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”
He then reaches for something near him. You hear it rustle before it comes into view. The letterman. He holds it up and only says three words: “Put it on.” Hesitantly, you slide your arms into the sleeves and shrug it the rest of the way on. “Gorgeous.” Jermajesty slides you off his lap gently and pushes you toward the other end of the car, “Lie back.” You ease down, and your legs part in the process. He takes in the sight of your dripping heat and lets out an appreciative groan. Your legs stretch past his face, and your toes touch the glass next to him. In the soft moonlight illuminating the car, your boyfriend notices something dancing on your ankle. Delicate gold lace, adorned with a pendant shaped like a 'J', rests there.
The visual nearly undoes Jermajesty. He takes your leg in his right hand and bends your knee. His fingers curl around your toes as he places soft kisses along your foot. His left hand trails up to caress the rest of your leg. Eventually, the hand holding your toes slides down to your heel. Jermajesty's kisses grow more urgent, less controlled. He moves feverishly, and before you can process what is happening, your big toe is in his mouth. He swirls his tongue, and a deep moan reverberates in your ears. You didn’t expect it to feel as good as it did, and the action earned a soft moan. Maybe it was the sensuality, but your body shakes with need. The slick between your thighs becomes unbearable. While your boyfriend continues his ministrations, you reach down. Your clit is aching, and the soft circles you begin to rub are barely enough to satisfy you.
When a whimper escapes your chest, and before you can pick up the pace, a sharp slap to your hand stops you. Jermajesty pulls off of your toe with a pop. “I didn’t say you could touch my shit, ma.” He then leans over and spreads you wider, wrapping his hands around your thighs and lifting your back off the seat. You look at him in surprise, and Jermajesty holds your gaze, blowing cool air over your clit. Frustrated, you whine out, “Maj, please—” He chuckles and shakes his head. “I can’t admire what's mine, mama?”
You let out a huff and try to sink back down. Big, veiny arms keep you steady, though. Jermajesty tuts at your bratty behavior, “Fuckin’ spoiled.” As you go to make another complaint, his lips wrap around your clit, sucking hard. “Oh, fuck— Maj!” He eats like a man starved, slurping like you’ll run dry if he stops. The sounds of your sins echo in the confined space. His tongue trails down to your ass and back up. He pushes the wet muscle deep into your pussy, earning a high wail from you. He stays there for a moment, savoring your taste, before moving back up toward the bundle of nerves hidden in your folds. Stars form behind your eyelids when two fingers dip in, making up for the empty feeling.
It’s all too much, too fast. You feel yourself careening toward the edge as he pumps them into you. He quickens his pace, knowing your body like the back of his hand. The digits buried inside of you press into that spongy spot over and over again. “Give it to me.” He murmurs into your heat. As if your body were waiting for his command, euphoria crashes into you. You tense as your eyes roll back, and his name slips off your tongue as you ride out your high. Jermajesty doesn’t stop, drinking your juices like he’s found the fountain of youth.
Overstimulation racks through your body, and you push him off your center. He leans back, breaths labored, chin glistening with your essence. You’re breathing just as hard, unsure if you’ll be able to withstand what else he has in store for you. “Baby—” He shushes you while pulling the wife-beater over his head. His jeans come off next, then his shoes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. The outline of his arousal leaves your mouth watering. No matter how many times you fuck him, you never get used to it. “Turn around f’me. Arch my shit the way I like it.” Itching for more, you do as he says, sinking into a sinful arch. Your pussy is on full display, and that beautiful, round ass has him thanking whichever god sent you down to him.
Your ears pick up on his movement, sure that he’s slipped out of the last layer between the two of you. You feel his heavy cock against your inner thigh, pre-cum smearing against it. The feeling leaves you clenching around nothing. Jermajesty leans down, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, “When I’m done with you…you gon remember you ain’t fuckin’ with no little ass puppy.” With that, he lines himself up with your heat. The tip nudges against your entrance, teasing you to the point of tears. In one long, slow thrust, Jermajesty bottoms out and has you split wide around his length.
Your mouth opens, and a loud moan tears from your chest. It burns so fucking good, he’s filled you to the brim. Your boyfriend waits for you to adjust, and when you nod, his strokes begin slowly, dragging along your sopping walls with deliberate patience. His cock is covered in your slick, and it takes everything in him to hold steady. He wants you to beg. “You forgot who I am, ma?” He asks, while still digging you out. Already too cockdrunk to speak, you shake your head with a muffled “Mm-mm.” Not satisfied with your answer, Jermajesty switches gears, picking up the pace. He feeds you harder, faster strokes, hips slamming into your ass roughly, “Nah. Tell me, baby.” He breathes out, “You forgot?”
Your breath hitches, and you throw your head back, drool sliding down the corners of your mouth. “Noo— Neverrr,” you drag out, surprised by the sudden change in tempo. Jermajesty catches the underside of your chin in his right hand, pulling you up as he props up his left leg near your side for better leverage. Again, he speeds up, driving mean strokes into your already abused pussy. A series of grunts leaves his lips before he lets you drop back down against the seat. The same foot he has propped up comes to rest on the side of your face as he reaches new depths in your core.
“Which frat you with— Shit!” The new angle leaves both of you weak. You search for the right words, but his fat mushroom tip bullying into your g-spot has you stupid. “I don’t know, Maj!— Fuck, I can’t—” He presses more of his weight into you, a ‘Thwack!’ rings through the air, and you struggle to catch your breath. “You don’t know? Sure you do, baby girl.” The strokes are heavy and slow now, grazing over your pleasure center again, and again. “I don’t, I swear.” Jermajesty laughs then, rich and smooth. “You really don’t? Guess I gotta stop then huh?” He says, still stroking deliciously slow. Panic washes over your blissed out face, “NO!— I just… Maj, give me a hint!”
His shoulders bounce as he realizes he has you right where he wants you. Too fucked out and stupid to think about anything but his dick, “What jacket you got on, baby?” Hell, if you know, all you're worried about is the heat pooling in your belly. “Majesty. Please, baby— I don’t know!” He grips you by the waist and pulls you off of him. A cry rips from your body, and tears form in your eyes. Jermajesty flips you onto your back, “It’s okay, pretty girl, don’t cry.” He utters mockingly, "I'm gon’ give you what you want.” he finishes, leaning down to lick away your tears.
In one swift move, Jermajesty pulls back and enters you again. A chortled gasp reaches his ears, and he smirks. He holds himself there for a moment and then decides that he wants to wreck you completely. He folds you in half, your knees almost touch your ears, and the tips of your toes touch the window behind you. The filthy mating press leaves your faces just inches apart. Jermajesty breathes out slowly to ground himself, “Omega. Psi. Phi.” He whispers, voice sweet like honey. Your face contorts in ecstasy as he punctuates each Greek letter with heavy, relentless blows to your pussy.
“Those are the only words I wanna hear.” He leaves no room for you to process and begins pounding into you like he’s got a personal vendetta against your cervix. “Ughh! Maj!— Fuck- Slow down!” Your boyfriend ignores your plea, driving into you harder. “Who. You. With? Hm?” Your brain is sent into overdrive, and instead of answering, your hand comes up to push against his stomach, hoping to slow down the brutal assault on your pussy. “Move it,” He grunts out, head dropping to watch where the two of you are joined together. His hand shifts up to squeeze your right tit, moving yours out of the way in the process.
The sensation makes your body twitch. Everything feels like jelly, and it’s hard to keep your eyes open; with them half-lidded, the only thing you’re able to see properly is the gold chain that dangles over you, thumping against his chest with every stroke. He presses delicate kisses across your chest before moving up to that sensitive spot on your neck. He sucks harshly, and a deep purple mark forms there. “I’m not askin’ again, you better tell me before I stop.” He says, nipping at your neck as his girth bullies into your g-spot, “Omega— Fuck! Psi Phi!” You yelp. Not yet satisfied, your boyfriend leans up, steadying most of his weight with one hand on the back of your thigh. “Louder.” He growls out, cracking his other hand down on your dripping snatch. Repeating the name is a feat you’re only able to accomplish by the grace of god. It still isn’t enough for Jermajesty.
“Again.” He orders, thumbing at your abused clit. Tight, fast circles send pleasure shooting up through your spine. “Omega!” He nods along in encouragement, “Mhm,” he groans, “Give it to me, baby”, eyes still focused on the way your warm, wet hole swallows his length. His hips hammer into yours at an impossible speed, sweat beading on his forehead. “Psi— Ooh Shit!” He moves to nuzzle his face in your neck, now struggling to hold himself together. His hand leaves your clit, and presses down just above your mound, adding to the whirlwind of stimulation. “Come on y/n— Fuck! Almost there. Give it to me!” With a piercing scream, the final letter tumbles from your throat. You feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin. “There it is. Shit, that’s so fucking good.” His praise adds to the familiar warmth settling into your core. You feel it coming hard and fast, “Maj, wait! The seats—” His heavy body drags against yours, “Fuck the seats. Gimme my shit.”
It only takes a few more seconds of him pistoning into you before you fall apart. Your vision goes white, and your toes curl, and your jaw drops with a silent cry. Violent streams of pleasure spurt around your boyfriend’s dick and across his abdomen. Jermajesty is right behind you, grip so tight you’re sure it’ll bruise. “Fuck! Gonna cum.” His stills as his balls tighten, and a loud groan rips from his chest. Thick globs of his spunk coat your insides. He stays put until he’s sure you’ve taken all of it.
You both breathe heavily as you come down from your highs. Your boyfriend slides out of you gently and moves to look at the mess he’s made of you. As your body twitches, completely and utterly spent, his eyes flicker to your half-lidded ones, and a smirk creeps onto his face. “A Nupe, can’t fuck you like this. Remember that.”
Summary: The night after losing his virginity, Michael Jackson finds he can't control his body or his obsession. What begins as a tense ride home from the AMAs erupts into a raw, relentless claiming in the one place he was always meant to be innocent: his childhood bedroom. (established relationship)
Word Count: 4530
Tags: off the wall era, smut, porn with plot, oral sex (f receiving), prone bone, sexual awakening, sort of romantic smut?, michael is pussy drunk y'all, slight praise kink, marking, unprotected sex, creampie (oop) overstimulation,
Authors Note: this was a request. people want more otw mike! and another anon requested pussy drunk michael otw era as well, so NATURALLY this was born. im so sorry if this is not what either of you had in mind lmao. rarely see smut or much at all in this era tbh (ITS HIS BEST??? ARGUE W THE (off the) WALL -- hAH get it?)
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18+ minors dnu!!!
The ride home was a cocoon of tense silence. The streetlights shimmered in the night a silent parade past the tinted windows.
Michael sat in the far corner of the plush limousine seat, a beautiful statue carved from desire and anxiety.
He’d been radiant at the 1980 American Music Award presentation, his neat afro, a soft light-brown cloud, his smile shy but genuine as he spoke to peers about Off the Wall.
And for the entire three-hour affair—from the first sip of prosecco to the final standing ovation, he’d been visibly, achingly hard.
You had whooped and cheered for him as he won in three separate categories. He made sure to point and thank ‘his girl’ for being the perfect muse. You couldn’t even comprehend the wins, as you were pointedly looking at his crotch, how he was trying to hide himself.
You’d borne witness to it all.
The subtle, tortured shifts in his wide-legged trousers. The way his elegant hands would flutter to his lap, pressing down, trying to angle the thick, insistent line of his erection against the lean plane of his stomach, or try to keep it in the waistband of his pants.
It was a futile, beautiful struggle. A faint sheen of perspiration had highlighted his forehead, and every time he leaned in to whisper a thank you, his breath was hot and unsteady. When he spoke with you, his eyes were alert, fervent, and his breath carried the scent of mint and sweet juice. He was coming apart at the seams.
Last night had been his first time. The loss of his innocence. A decision arrived at with trembling anticipation. Three whole years of held hands, of kisses that never deepened, of him whispering, "Let's do it when it’s perfect, baby. When it’s right.”
He’d finally decided it was right. “I love you,” he’d breathed into the darkness, his body taut above you. “I know I’m going to marry you—so why should I wait any longer?”
It had been a burst of frantic, bewildered sensation, over almost before it began, leaving him curled around you afterwards, whispering “thank you” over and over like a sacred vow into your skin.
You’d thought it a one-time gift, at least for a while, while he grappled with the guilt of stepping outside the bounds of his religious past.
The limo purred to a stop on the familiar Hayvenhurst driveway. He was out before the engine died, opening your door with a hand that trembled violently.
“Night, Mike. I’ll pick you up again tomorrow morning at nine sharp—you’ve got that radio show interview–” Bill called after him.
Michael wasn’t listening. He didn’t even take your hand up the path like he usually did.
He walked ahead, as if on a warpath, his posture rigid, his stride a careful, stiff thing meant to disguise the persistent, telling bulge in his trousers.
The house was a sleeping giant. You both climbed the grand staircase at speed. You struggled slightly in your heels, your long silk dress pooling at your feet. He led you away from the guest room you used to frequent, down a quieter hall lined with framed gold records and awkward school portraits. He stopped at a familiar door and pushed it open.
His childhood bedroom.
It was a sanctuary of preserved innocence. A smaller double bed with a faded blue comforter.
Shelves bowed under the weight of countless Disney figurines: Cinderella’s castle, a parade of Seven Dwarfs, a lonely-looking Dumbo. A mobile of the solar system, coated in a fine layer of dust, hung motionless from the ceiling. The air was a blend of old paper, the faint sweet smell of vinyl, and the crisp, clean scent that was uniquely, essentially him.
You smiled as you took it in; it looked exactly as you remembered from when you first started dating. He had insisted you both use the guest room because he didn’t want to face moving any of his memorabilia. It just so happened his childhood bedroom was furthest from his family, his parents in the opposite wing, Randy down the stairs and Janet three doors down.
He went to the bed and sat down, his back to you. With a concentration that was borderline funny, he bent and began untying the laces of his polished dress shoes.
The act was so simple, so boyish; a child in his refuge, shedding the costume of the outside world, that it made your heart ache.
In public, he was poised, adult, a persona he wore like a tailored suit. But here, he was the boy who believed in magic, who trusted too easily, whose curiosity was your favorite thing, the way he’d absorb everything about a subject, a time period, a movie, just as he did with music.
You stood by his old wooden desk, your fingers brushing the cool plastic of a model rocket. A ceramic figurine of Bambi watched with wide, glassy eyes.
“I saw it all night,” you said, your voice a soft intrusion in the quiet.
His hands froze on the second lace. He didn’t turn. “Saw what?”
“How hard you were. During the speeches. While you were eating. You kept trying to hide it, but you couldn’t. It was all I could think about.”
A visible tremor ran through him. He straightened slowly, but kept his back to you, head bowed as if in prayer. “It wouldn’t go away,” he confessed, his voice thick. “My body… it wouldn’t listen to me. The more I remembered last night, the harder it got. It was getting… painful.”
“I noticed your frustration,” you whispered, taking a step closer. The floorboard sighed beneath your weight. “And it made me wet. Drenched. Every time you adjusted yourself, every time you got that look in your eye… I could feel myself getting slick for you.”
He turned then.
His face was flushed, his beautiful lips parted. The need in his eyes had taken over; the shyness was a thin veneer over a bedrock of hunger.
“Wet?” he breathed, as if deciphering a complex lyric. His gaze dropped to the front of your gown. “Tell me what that’s like.”
You closed the final distance.
You took his right hand and lifted it. You placed his palm firmly against the damp silk covering your mound.
He gasped—a sharp, startled sound.
“Feel,” you instructed, your voice low.
His fingers trembled against you. You guided his hand down, under the heavy fabric of your gown, past the delicate lace of your stockings, until his cool fingertips met the soaked, feverish silk of your panties.
A choked, ragged sound escaped him.
“I can make you feel this way?” he stammered, his voice full of awe. “So warm… so… wet…”
“That’s for you,” you said, holding his wrist, making him feel the undeniable truth. “All night. That’s what the thought of you did to me.”
He was shaking now.
You hooked your fingers into the lace at your hip, drawing the fabric aside. Then you guided two of his long, elegant fingers inside of you. He was good with his hands; he had a rhythm like no other, skilled and precise. It was ironic that he knew how to play instruments so well, and now you wanted him to learn to play your body like one.
He went perfectly still. His eyes widened, the dark pools swallowing the light from the nightlight.
He was still feeling the intimate, velvet clutch of your body.
“Ohh…,” he whimpered, the sound pulled from his soul.
“Curve them,” you breathed, your own composure fraying. “Like you’re reaching for something.”
He obeyed; a slow, deliberate flexion. The pad of his middle finger found a spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. A low, throaty moan tore from you.
“Mmmhh—!”
The sound shattered his last restraint. A deep, guttural groan echoed in his chest. He began to move his fingers, it wasn’t really with skill, just a frantic curiosity. In and out, curling, exploring. The tops of his fingers were softly pressing against your G-spot.
He watched your face, utterly captivated, as his hand worked beneath your gown, his expression one of rapt, hungry devotion.
“This… this tight, soft, warm feeling… is what I was thinking about at dinner,” he panted, his breath coming fast. “This is what I wanted… right there and then, but couldn’t have.”
He withdrew his fingers, staring at the glistening evidence. Driven by an instinct deeper than reason, he brought them to his lips and… tasted.
His eyes fluttered closed.
“Y’taste so good,” he mumbled, his voice thick and sweet. “You taste like heaven.”
He pulled his fingers from his mouth with a soft, slick pop. The look he gave you then was one of pure, pussy-drunk awe. The shy boy was submerged, replaced by a devoted lover.
“I need to feel you,” he said, the words rushing out. “I need to be surrounded by you. I need to have all of you.”
He fumbled with the buttons of his sparkly silver shirt and yanked off his bow tie, his usual grace abandoned. He shed it, let it fall onto a stack of comic books. The black trousers were shoved down, kicked away. He stood before you, naked in a room crowded with childhood dreams, fully, magnificently erect. You inwardly rolled your eyes at the fact he hadn’t worn briefs to the ceremony.
The juxtaposition in front of you, though, was devastatingly intimate. Him stood in this room, bearing himself, when a month prior he still struggled to get dressed in front of you.
He didn’t ask before diving in at you.
He gathered you in his strong, lean arms and laid you back on the blue comforter, pushing the skirts of your gown up to your waist, not even bothering to undress you fully because his need was too crazed, too immediate.
He settled between your thighs, his cock; thick, proud, flushed with wanting—pressing against your dripping heat. He looked down, his expression one of solemn, hungry wonder.
“I love you,” he whispered, but it sounded like a truth that made all this not only permissible, but necessary.
“I need to feel this. Every part of it. I didn’t feel you fall apart last night. It was too fast. This time… I want to feel you come apart around me. I want to be inside you when you lose yourself.”
He pushed in.
It was a slow, inexorable claiming that made the breath hitch in his throat. He sank to his base, a long sigh escaping him. He was so deep it felt like he was pressing on your heart.
“Perfect,” he breathed, his eyes closing. “You are… so good, laying there all pretty for me.”
He began to move, a deep, rolling rhythm that was less about thrusting and more about communion.
“You take me so completely… like you were made for me…”
But then his movements changed. His hands, which had been braced gently beside your head, slid down to your thighs. His touch, usually so tentative, became firm, purposeful.
He pushed your legs apart wider, then hooked them, bending them sharply to the side, opening you to him utterly. The new angle was deeper, more exposing. A soft cry left your lips.
“Yes,” he murmured, his voice taking on a darker, more resonant timbre. “Like this. I need to feel all of you like this.”
He began to move again, and this time, there was a new roughness to his rhythm. It wasn’t violent, but it was relentless, deeply possessive. Each stroke was a full, powerful drive, his hips meeting yours with a solid, wet slap-slap-slap that filled the quiet room. The bedframe began a steady, rhythmic protest against the wall.
He was lost in it. His eyes were open, watching your face, but they were glazed, seeing only the sensation.
“You’re so beautiful like this, how have i gone so long without this sight?,” he groaned, his words coming between panting breaths.
“Surrendered to me. Letting me feel you. You’re my good girl, right?”
His dirty talk wasn’t crude; it was sensual, almost poetic, ripped from the core of his overwhelmed being.
He drove into you, harder, his control slipping into something more primal. It became messy, clumsy—the way he gripped your thighs, the way he shoved into you—the want of his release overtaking his rationale.
You knew there’d be bruises where he held you tomorrow.
He pulled out briefly, flipped both your legs to his right, then entered you with your legs together—the sensation for him even more distinct, squeezing his cock even tighter.
His hands were on your sides now as he drilled into you. He leaned over as he pounded, his face so close to yours.
You couldn’t look away, totally entranced by the primal look in his eyes. He’d been taken over by the sensation, totally overthrown.
“I want to drown in you… I want this feeling…” He thrust fast and deep now, as if he was fucking the sensual words into you. “Forever, let me have it forever—God—”
You could feel your climax coming in, a slow, tectonic pressure from the deep, relentless pounding. You moaned loudly, your fingers tangling in the blanket.
“Ah—ah—!”
“I feel it,” he gasped, his rhythm becoming more urgent, though no less deep. “I want to make you feel good… I want to see the pleasure blown out in your eyes.” He was muttering now between gasps of pleasure.
“I’m going to write about how filthy and utterly ethereal you look in this moment,” he moaned, cupping your breasts with his hands.
His words; the romantic filth of them, spoken in that breathy, wrecked tenor were your undoing.
Your orgasm erupted, a deep, feeling within you; your whole body convulsed mercillisly.
You clenched around him in rhythmicly, uncontrollably.
A broken cry was torn from your throat—“Michael—!”
you could feel how wet you had become from your orgasm, and by the slick, slapping sound of his slow, deep thrusting, it was driving him wild.
He cried out with you, a sound of pure, triumphant awe.
“Yes! that’s my girl. I have waited so long to see you so dirty like this, to see your face in agonizing heat…”
But he didn’t stop after your come down.
He couldn’t.
The feeling of your climax around him seemed to fuel a deeper, more desperate hunger.
His thrusts became harder, faster, losing their measured pace, becoming a frantic, driving rhythm. The bed shook. A figurine of Mickey Mouse toppled from the shelf with a soft clatter.
“I can’t… I can’t stop,” he sobbed, his voice breaking. He was fucking you now with a pure, unadulterated need, the romantic poet consumed by the primal animal. “It’s too good… you’re too good… I need more… I need to be deeper…”
He was overstimulated, lost, chasing a feeling that kept escalating. He hooked your legs higher, over his shoulders, bending you nearly in half, and plunged into you with a force that stole the air from your lungs. His words dissolved into a litany of your name, interspersed with gasped, sensual fragments.
His eyes roamed frantically, but then settled on the sight of his own motion, biting his lip as he watched the remnants of your undoing pool at the base of his cock.
“My heart… is in your skin… your taste is in my mouth…” he moaned, breathlessly inbetween pumps.
He flipped you over with ease, onto your stomach. You had a brief moment to prepare yourself before he settled over you, pressing you into the mattress, and drove back into your from behind.
“You’re mine, all mine, this is just for me, always—”
His own end took him by storm.
His body locked, every muscle straining. A raw, ragged shout was torn from him—“Fuuuu--GOD-- Y/N–” a sound that held no artifice, only pure, shattering release.
You felt his hot seed, pulsing into you, flooding deep within, a claiming that felt endless.
He trembled violently through it, his hips jerking with involuntary aftershocks, still buried to the hilt.
When the last tremor passed, he collapsed forward, but caught himself on his elbows, still sheathed inside you. He was panting, sweat dripping from his nose and afro onto your back. He looked down at you as you glanced back, his eyes wide, dazed, full of a wonder that bordered on fear. You both just started grinning at each other crazily.
“I think I got carried away,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and ruined. “In you. I completely… got lost.”
"mhmm," you noted back, "ya think?"
He slowly, carefully, withdrew, and rolled to the side, pulling you instantly against him. His arms wrapped around you, tight, possessive. His heart hammered against your back.
He was silent for a long time, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your stomach.
“I don’t know how I held off for so long,” he murmured finally, his lips against your shoulder blade.
The scent of sex; musky, sweet, and profoundly intimate hung thick in the air of Michael’s old bedroom, a new perfume overlaying the old smell of books and toys.
Minutes bled by, measured only in the gradual slowing of breath. You felt spent, hollowed out and filled up, drifting away on the aftershocks.
Then, a shift in the energy beside you.
He lowered his arm.
In the soft gloom of the late evening, you saw his profile. His eyes were open, staring at the dusty mobile of the solar system behind your head. His lips, swollen and damp, parted. He looked so young like this, but he was grown now. The change you felt in him, even in the last few days was ludicrous. You fondly remembered how Michael would struggle to even hold your hand longer than 30 seconds, or he’d start madly blushing.
"Can I…" he started, his voice a ruined, raspy thing.
He stopped, swallowed and then started again, the words tumbling out in a hushed, guilty rush.
"Can I put my mouth on you? Right now?"
The question hung in the air, inappropriate, vulnerable, filthy in its innocent hunger.
You turned your head on the pillow. "Michael… you just… you finished in me. It's… it's mixed."
He turned his head too.
His eyes found yours, and there was no shyness there, only a dark clarity.
"I don't care," he whispered, the declaration simple and absolute. "I want to taste you for real. I want to taste where I was. Please."
He didn't wait for a final answer. The "please" was a formality.
The decision was made.
He moved with a sudden, fluid grace that belied his exhaustion, sliding down your body like a man descending to an altar. He pushed your thighs apart with a firm insistence, his gaze locked on the glistening, spent evidence of your joining.
He hovered, his gaze fixed so intensely.
“So beautiful,” he breathed, the words barely a whisper, soaked in awe. “Like a rose that’s just… bloomed for me.”
His hands, which had been resting on your hips, slid inward. His touch was a little demanding, but still just as tender. His fingers came to rest on your outer lips, applying the gentlest pressure.
He began to part you.
It was a slow unveiling. The soft, swollen flesh, glistening with the combined evidence of your passion, yielded to his patient hands. He opened you like the pages of a cherished, secret book he was terrified to damage.
A soft, shuddering sigh escaped him. “Oh… wow.”
He was looking at the heart of you, fully exposed to him in the dim light. The intimate, intricate folds, flushed a deep, needy pink, the glimmering wetness that coated everything, the tight, hidden entrance that still pulsed gently from his recent possession.
"Look at you,” he murmured, his voice sounding almost deliriously drunk with pleasure.
“All pretty and pink and wet for me. Just for me.” He leaned closer, his nose almost touching you, inhaling deeply. The sound he made was one of a man tasting water in a desert; a low, guttural groan of pure, starving need.
"Oh, God…" he mumbled, his voice muffled against your flesh. "S'sweet… and salty…"
He was lost instantly. Any hesitation, any remnant of fastidiousness, was incinerated by the addictive, complex flavor. He ate at you with starving intensity. His tongue was blunt and demanding, lapping up every trace, diving deep to clean his own release from inside you with thick, curling strokes.
The sounds were obscenely wet, sloppy, loud in the quiet room. He moaned continuously, a low, pleasured hum that you felt in your bones.
You writhed, oversensitive, a confusing mix of shock and overwhelming arousal knotting in your belly. "Michael… ah! Too… im so sensitive…"
He lifted his head, his chin dripping. His eyes were black pools of delerium. "No," he breathed, the word a gentle command. "I haven’t had enough. Sit on my face."
It was a desperate, worshipful plea.
He lay back flat, his hands coming to your hips, guiding you, pulling you up and over him. You braced your hands on the headboard, above his scattered pillows and plush toys, and lowered yourself, trembling, onto the waiting heat of his mouth.
Your world and everything in it, narrowed to sensation.
His mouth was a godsend; it was devoted hunger. As you settled your weight onto him, he let out a choked, blissful sound underneath you and his arms wrapped around your thighs, locking you in place.
There was no escape, and in seconds, you didn't want any.
He feasted. His tongue speared into you, fucking into the tender, well-used channel with a rhythm that was all his own. He alternated between deep, penetrating licks and frantic, fluttering sucks on your clit, his nose buried against you, breathing you in like oxygen. His hips began to move in tiny, abortive thrusts against the empty air, the blanket beneath him.
You were in disbelief at what had gotten into him – the boy you once knew had well and truly been replaced by a man. A handsome, steadfast partner, who clearly didn’t have any thoughts of leaving you for anyone else; even in his fame.
You looked down at him from where you were perched over his face. And the sight… unwound you completely.
His eyes were squeezed shut in ecstasy, his beautiful face a mask of utter surrender.
Your eyes roamed away, and then you saw against his stomach, his cock was already fully, achingly hard again, thick and flushed and leaking a fresh pearl of pre-come onto the skin just below his belly button.
The sheer, wanton need of it and the fact that tasting you, servicing you, had him rock-hard and throbbing in seconds sent a violent, possessive thrill through you.
The power dynamic shifted on a dizzying axis.
You rose off his mouth, ignoring his grunt of protest. You moved backwards, straddling his hips instead of his face. His eyes flew open, confused, desperate.
"Wha—?"
You didn't let him finish. You wanted to show him that other positions were just as good. You remembered something you’d read, a way to take control…
You reached between your legs, took his hard, slick cock in your hand, and guided it to your entrance, still wet and open from his mouth and his seed.
You sank down onto him slowly, sheathing him completely inside your sore, sensitive heat.
A dual cry tore through the room—his a sharp, shattered gasp of "God Damn–!", yours a long, low moan of exquisite, overwhelming fullness.
For a second, you both froze, impaled, connected.
You saw the shock in his eyes, then the dawning, wild comprehension. You were in control. You were taking what you needed from him.
Then you began to move.
You rode him slowly at first, a deep, rolling grind, using the muscles inside you to clench his length.
His head fell back, a string of broken, sensual praises falling from his lips.
"Yess… ride me… use me… you feel so good taking your pleasure from me… only me baby"
But Michael was not a passive lover. He was jealous, stubborn and petty at times and this had to manifest in your sex life too.
The submission was a feint, a precursor to a different kind of power.
His hands, which had been gripping the sheets, flew to your hips. His grip was iron, his long fingers digging into your flesh. The gentle, curious boy was gone. In his place was a man consumed, only you on his mind and in his sightline.
"Harder," he growled, his voice darker than usual.
He thrust his hips up to meet your downward stroke, a sharp, punishing impact that stole your breath.
" harder. Take what you want. Use me."
He began to dictate the rhythm from below. He bucked his hips, meeting each of your descents with a powerful, upward drive, controlling the depth, the angle, the force. He was fucking himself into you from the bottom, his strength surprising, his need an inferno.
"Yes! Like that!" he chanted, his eyes blazing up at you, watching your breasts bounce, your face contort in pleasure.
"Good. keep going. I wanna feel you tighten around me again whilst you come for me"
His physical domination from beneath you was the spark that lit the fuse.
You cried out, your rhythm breaking into frantic, shallow bounces as the orgasm ripped through you, violently, your nerve endings completely shattered from what was going on.
He felt it. He saw it. And it unleashed the final, raw animal in him.
With a roar that was half-sob, half-triumph, he gripped your hips and lifted you off of him. In one violent, graceful motion, he flipped you onto your back and was surging over you before the cry could leave your throat. He slammed back into you to the hilt, hooking your legs over the crooks of his arms, folding you nearly in half.
"Mine," he said, the word a primal, guttural claim against your lips.
His rhythm was brutal, perfectly aimed despite his inexperience, a relentless, piston-drive fucking that had the bed slamming into the wall with a frantic, wooden THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD.
He was everywhere, his sweat dripping onto your chest, his groans hot in your ear, his hands gripping your legs like vices.
He was a beautiful, desperate machine, chasing his own end with fury, using your body to get there, giving you everything he had in the process.
"I think…m-gonna fill you up… again…" he panted, his rhythm fracturing into erratic, deep jabs.
"Mark you… inside and out… so you never forget… whose girl you are… Ah—! Ah, God—!"
His release was silent. His body locked, every muscle corded and straining. His mouth opened but nothing came out, his eyes wide and unseeing as he emptied himself into you in hot, pulsing jets, deeper than seemed possible.
He collapsed forward, but caught himself on trembling arms, still buried inside you, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath sobbing into your mouth.
Slowly, he softened and slipped out. He didn't roll away. He collapsed onto you, a dead weight of satiated obsession, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His arms slid under you, binding you to him completely.
His lips moved against your damp skin, the words slurred, thick with exhaustion and a profound, drunken awe.
“They are gonna have to lock me up in a padded room to stay away from you now”
Pairings: Pre Off the Wall era! Michael x Wife! Reader
Warnings: Loss of virginity, minor insecurity, overstimulation, Michael loses control, squirting, he has a praise kink, michael talks you through it.
Synopsis: Long into your first night together as man and wife , Michael’s sweet touch evolved into an unstoppable hunger.
Wc: 1,569
The air in the grand ballroom was thick with the scent of expensive lilies and old-world perfume. The year was 1978, and the wedding of the decade had just concluded. Michael looked breathtaking in his white tuxedo, his eyes never leaving you as you glided across the dance floor. To the world, he was the superstar, the voice of a generation, but as he pulled you flush against his chest for their first dance as husband and wife, he was just a man trembling with a desperate, overwhelming love for you.
As the music slowed, both of your family members began to filter out, leaving the two of you alone in the dim, golden light of the reception hall. The silence that followed was heavy with anticipation. Michael didn’t let go… instead, he slid his hand down to the small of your back, pressing your hips firmly against his. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.
"I thought I was going to die during the vows," he whispered, his voice a soft, melodic vibration that sent shivers down your spine. "All I could think about was getting you alone. I want to feel every inch of you. I want to take you."
He began to move with you, not a dance anymore, but a slow, sensual grind. His hand wandered lower, cupping your rear and squeezing firmly, pulling you into the hard bump of his cock through the fabric of your wedding dress. You let out a soft moan, and the sound seemed to break something inside him. Michael whimpered, a small, needy sound, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
"Please," he breathed, his voice cracking. "Tell me you want me as much as I want you. I'm shaking, baby... I need you so bad."
The honeymoon house was a secluded haven where the rest of the world ceased to exist. In the master bedroom, the moonlight spilled across the silk sheets in pale, shimmering ribbons, casting a ghostly glow over the two of you. Michael was a wreck of nerves, his movements tentative and shaking as he helped you out of your dress. His fingers fumbled with the fastenings, his breath hitching every time his skin brushed yours. When the fabric finally pooled at your feet and you stood before him completely naked, the sight of you made him gasp. He stepped back for a heartbeat, his eyes wide with pure, unadulterated adoration, looking at you as if you were a miracle he wasn't worthy of touching.
He laid you down gently, his touch light and almost reverent, as if you were made of the finest porcelain. As he began to explore your body, his lips trailing a path of fire down your stomach, his voice became a constant, needy stream of soft pleas. "Is this okay? Do you like this?" he whispered against your skin, his voice trembling. "Tell me you love me, baby... please, I need to hear it."
When he finally positioned his hard, throbbing cock at your entrance, he paused. He didn't just push in; he stopped, resting his forehead against yours, their breaths mingling in the quiet room. He was trembling violently now, the sheer emotional weight of the moment crashing over him. "I want this to be perfect for you," he whimpered, a small, broken sound of desperation.
As he slowly pushed inside, the searing tightness of your pussy walls gripped him firmly. Michael let out a long, shaky groan of pleasure and effort, his muscles locking as he sank deeper into your heat. You gasped, your fingers digging deep into the muscles of his shoulders, and the sound of your first moan triggered something primal and starving within him.
"Yes... please, yes, moan for me," he pleaded, his voice breaking. He didn't rush; he moved with an agonizing slowness, savoring every millimeter of friction, his breaths coming in ragged, needy whimpers. He wasn't just taking your innocence as you took his, he was worshipping it.
He spent what felt like hours just moving shallowly, the head of his cock teasing your entrance while he showered your face in kisses. He begged for reassurance, his voice a frantic whisper, asking if he was making you feel good, if you could feel how much he loved you. His heart hammered like a trapped bird against your chest, the rhythm accelerating as the tension built to an unbearable peak. When he finally lost control, he drove deep one last time, spilling his warm cum inside you with a loud, desperate cry of your name that echoed through the velvet silence of the room.
Long into the night, the sweetness evolved into a hunger. Michael had discovered how sensitive your body was, and it had become an obsession. He found you in the kitchen getting a snack, and before you could speak, he had you hoisted onto the counter, your night dress pushed up to your waist.
He didn't go for the penetration immediately. He spent an hour with his tongue, licking and sucking your clit with a rhythmic intensity that had you screaming. He was vocal, moaning loudly into your folds, whimpering when you arched your back.
"You're so wet for me... look at how much you want it," he gasped, looking up at you with blown-out pupils. When he finally slid inside, the friction was electric. He began to pump into you with a newfound urgency, his voice cracking as he begged you to tell him how good it felt. He pushed you to the edge over and over, refusing to let you finish until he had you sobbing his name, finally letting you peak in a violent explosion that left him shaking and spent.
By the next morning, Michael’s stamina had become tireless. He didn't just want sex, he wanted to consume you. He trapped you against the bedroom wall, his hands gripping your thighs and hoisting them around his waist.
"I can't get enough of you," he whimpered, his voice strained. "I need to be inside you every second of every day."
He fucked you with a raw, desperate energy, his hips slamming against yours with wet, slapping sounds. He was constantly talking, his singer's voice modulating between deep growls and high, needy whimpers. "Tell me I'm yours... tell me you'll never leave me."
He discovered that by flicking your clit while thrusting deep, he could make you lose control. You came three times in a row, your body shaking, but he didn't stop. He kept driving into you, his eyes locked on yours, obsessed with the way your walls clamped around him. He filled you to the brim, his cum pulsing deep inside you as he sobbed into your shoulder, overwhelmed by the intensity of his bond with you.
The obsession had shifted into something more intense. Your body had become so attuned to him that the mere sight of him made you ache. Once afternoon came, he walked into the room and simply brushed his hand against your inner thigh, you let out a sharp gasp.
When he pushed you back onto the bed and entered you in one smooth, deep thrust, the sensation was too much. The instant your walls closed around his cock, you screamed, your body snapping into a violent orgasm. A huge spray of fluid erupted from you, soaking his thighs and the sheets.
Michael froze, his eyes widening. "Did you... did you just cum from me just entering you?" he whispered, his voice trembling with excitement.
He didn't pull out. He began to move, and every single thrust triggered another wave. You were squirting uncontrollably, the bed becoming a lake of your juices. Michael was losing his mind, whimpering and moaning with every splash, his voice breaking as he realized he had total control over your pleasure. "You're so sensitive... my sweet, sensitive girl. I'm going to make you squirt until you're empty."
The final stage of his obsession was the desire to leave a permanent mark. He pinned you to the plush carpet of the living room, his eyes dark with a singular focus. He didn't just want pleasure; he wanted a family.
"I hmm- want to fill you," he whimpered, his voice a soft, needy rasp. "I want eighteen children, baby. Eighteen little versions of us. I need to fill you until your belly is round and you can't think of anything but my seed inside you."
He entered you with a brutal, possessive force, pushing deep into your cervix. Every time he hit that spot, you creamed, lubricating his cock as he hammered into you. He was vocal, pleading and begging, his voice cracking. "Please, take it all... take every drop. I want to plant a baby in you right now. Tell me you want my babies! Tell me you want to me to fill you!"
He didn't stop even when you were shaking from overstimulation, pushing through your climaxes with a relentless rhythm. As he reached his peak, he gripped your hips so hard he left bruises, letting out a loud shout as he unloaded a massive amount of cum deep inside your womb, whimpering with a mixture of love and lust, promising to do it again and again until his dream of eighteen children was a reality.
A/N: Inspired by this twt vid. I’m making a book for Wattpad and thought of a scene that would probably suit it…which is this. Still a beginner by the way, not too much. No specified name of fem reader. porn with no plot btw.
Tw: smut, spit, oral (both parties)
18+
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Lemme try somethin.” She stood up and turned her body parallel from him. He couldn’t fight the sharp inhale, seeing her glistening pussy in front of his face.
Michael felt his mouth salivate, swallowing before he seemed like an inexperienced grown man — which he was. She adjusted backwards a bit until her face was directly above his pulsing dick.
“You ready baby?” She asked him in a sultry tone, grasping him in her hand causing his stomach to contract from the new feeling. A small ‘mhm’ left his mouth, too focused on the need to shove his tongue between her wet folds.
As soon as her warm mouth captured his length, his tongue darted out to connect with her pussy. She knew he was an eater but she may have underestimated him a bit as he continued to suck and lick all over her clit.
She took a deep breath trying to calm herself down enough to return the favor. She took him deeper in her mouth, swirling her tongue around. He moaned into her pussy, tongue flicking rapidly, sending pleasurable vibrations through her body.
She couldn’t help the soft moans spilling out of her mouth, muffled from his dick practically in her throat. She felt spit foaming in her mouth as it dripped down his length, her head constantly in a bobbing motion.
He gripped her hips tightly, eyes rolling back at her tongue providing him the pleasure he wasn’t used to. He was always to himself, too scared to interact with girls for too long — believing they’ll get tired of him.
But this — her mouth, her pussy and her moans — he’s glad she’s the one to take him this far. His eyes closed relishing in the taste of her, he never knew he could enjoy this so much. He always thought his brothers were over exaggerating when they spoke about their sexual festivities with women but he may just truly be in heaven.
Her hand came down to gently grab his balls, massaging them between her fingers. They sat heavy and warm in her palm, just begging for a nut.
His grip tightened against her ass, holding on to anything to ground himself into the new sensations. His whimpers were muffled by her pussy in his mouth but they didn’t go unnoticed. He bucked his hips automatically, pushing him farther down her throat.
Her throat accommodated the farther intrusion, feeling him hit the back of it. He was pushing her mouth to the limit, Michael is just truly that big. As she continued working her magic on him enjoying the equal amount of pleasure, she felt movement behind her.
She glanced back noticing Michael scooting up a bit, leaving his original position where he was flat on his back. He began to prop himself up on to the cotton white pillows on her bed. “M-Michael?” She questioned.
His eyes were closed, hands kneading her ass like dough. Her breathing became uneven and rattled at his desperation to please her. She tried to focus back on her original task, taking his still hard dick in her mouth but that only encouraged him.
She felt him lean back a bit giving the smallest amount of air between his mouth and her pussy before spitting directly on it. She gasped in shock, not expecting that from him. Before she could protest, he went back in spreading the liquid around. She couldn’t deny the fact that it turned her on even more.
“Oh f-fuck, M-Mike wait.” She told him as her legs shook. Her eyes rolled back, as her hands gripped the sheets. Her hips grinded into his mouth, giving him more leeway to stick his tongue inside of her pussy.
“Oooo shit.” She cried out, her head fell onto the bed, while his dick stood stiffly beside her head. His tongue made constant circles on her pussy as he mindlessly ate her out. He couldn’t think about anything else but her taste on his tongue.
She came to the conclusion, he was absolutely pussy-drunk. The pleasure coursed through her veins, almost becoming too much as she inched forward. She felt his head slightly chase after her wetness, not wanting to disconnect his lips from her.
Before she could even get a few centimeters farther, his hands gripped her hips pulling her back to fully cover his mouth. “Mmm come back mama.” He mumbled holding her against his mouth.
She could’ve cried as his lips wrapped around her clit, giving it a firm suck causing her legs to shake. Her breathing sped up as he moved her hips up and down his face, tongue dragging all through her folds.
“You gon’ make me cum baby.” She whimpered out. Him hearing those words gave him a second wind, tongue flicking against her clit with the speed of lightning.
The room filled with her moans, and the wet sounds of his tongue swirling against her pussy which made her cry out. By the hard grasp she had onto his knee he can tell she was close. “Cum mama.” He mumbled.
Those two words made her body tense up before feeling that surge of pleasure release through her. Michael’s mouth stayed opened and ready, licking up her nectar coming out of her clenching hole.
He licked her through her orgasm, finally loosening his grip on her. She panted, turning to fall flat on her back on the bed. “Michael what the fuck?” She said still in utter disbelief.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, doe eyes staring innocently at her.
“I liked that, can we do it again?”
A/n: I’m working on my writing but I did want to try this idea. Hope it was a bit alright!
everybody too focused on acting righteous that they didn’t even notice that we have Jermajesty crumbs during the making of Michael…oh but i noticed😋 that’s MY dada
I’m so glad this community is waking Tf up about the parasocial behaviour that’s been going on, you’re all as bad as those who treated Michael poorly. Quit pretending to be these virtuous people because you’re not.
I need everyone to take a step BACK and realise that a lot of your behaviour has been genuinely insane, let’s start off with jaafar and maddie, the way you two treat this couple is fucking wild, the concern trolling and virtue signaling is out of this world, A LOT of you don’t care about maddies past posts supporting Israel, a lot of you are simply jealous over the fact she’s with jaafar, it’s blatant by the fact all you lot talk about IS the relationship and her appearance and how you don’t get how they’ve been together for so long and aren’t married. The infantilisation of jaafar is also wild, he’s not some poor little boy who isn’t aware of what’s going on around him, Quit acting like he is.
Now with jermajesty and Randy jr, the fact that two days ago you lot were basically jumping these man’s leg like a bunch of horny dogs and now bc they(liked a post????) you’re cancelling them?Are we fucking mad? 😭 it’s insane, so what they liked a post??
This is how ik that as a society we need to hop off the internet because we are too quick to sensationalise and then cancel someone within days.
┊ ♡ ﹒ summary : michael is a lovesick loser boy and you get off on that. you say jump, and he says how high. why? because you’re pretty, give him attention and you have the pussy he can’t last three minutes in.
┊ ♡ ﹒ byi : smut! 🔞, submissive michael, mentions of face fucking.. but its not you getting your face fucked :), full on intercourse, reader is a D1 dirty talker, michael struggles with premature ejaculation, talks of loss of virginity, age gap (reader in mid to late twenties, michael is twenty one), strong emotional dependency, jealousy, codependent tendencies, idolization/idealization of a partner, insecurity (michael), power imbalance, bossy reader, lovesick michael. “daddy” is used to tease. reader is also a socialite. girl idk! there’s a lot to unpack here.
The roller rink was pulsing with life beneath a haze of colored lights. Purple, blue and red beams chased each other across the polished floor, reflecting off sequined jackets and the mirrored disco balls suspended from the ceiling.
The venue itself smelled of an array of things: hints of red icee and cotton candy, colognes, heavy hairspray and cigarette smoke as music thundered from enormous speakers mounted in the corners, bass vibrating through the walls and floor alike.
The rink was one of Los Angeles’ worst kept secrets. On any given weekend, half the city seemed to pass through its doors, LA personalities, aspiring musicians and even well known ones, actors, and industry kids all looking for a few hours of normalcy beneath the disco lights. Michael had even performed there once or twice over the years, drawing crowds that packed the floor shoulder to shoulder. Tonight though, he was there because it was Friday night, the music was good—or so he says.
He sat perched on the edge of a vinyl booth near the rink, one leg bouncing restlessly beneath the table. At twenty one, he occupied an awkward space between abandoning boyhood and stepping into superstardom. Off the Wall had transformed everything. People stared now. People whispered. Girls gathered the courage to approach him and then dissolved into nervous giggles halfway there. Yet somehow he still looked slightly uncomfortable with the attention, dressed in a fitted button down and dark bell bottoms, curls falling around his face as he watched the skaters glide by.
Across from him sat Bill, who had spent the better part of the evening pretending not to notice Michael checking the entrance every five minutes.
“Gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep doing that, Joker.”
Michael looked away from the doors immediately. “Doin’ what?”
Bill chuckled. “Keep those feet still.”
Beside them, one of Michael’s managers leaned back with folded arms. “She’s not coming.”
Michael frowned. “Who?”
That earned him three unimpressed stares.
The manager laughed first. “Right. Sure.”
Michael rolled his eyes and reached for his orange juice, hiding a shy smile. “You guys are trouble..” The real truth was embarrassing enough without them making a spectacle of it.
You’d simply mentioned a few days ago that you might stop by the rink on Friday night around eleven. Any accusations that he was waiting for any particular person were completely unfounded. Baseless, even! The fact that he’d arrived early, picked a booth with a clear view of the entrance, and couldn’t seem to stop looking toward the doors was merely an unfortunate series of coincidences. Right? Right.
The music shifted into another song, drawing a fresh wave of skaters onto the floor. Michael watched absentmindedly, fingers drumming against the side of his cup.
Unfortunately for Michael, the second he saw you every carefully constructed fantasy he’d been rehearsing in his head before he went to sleep these past couple nights went poof! Oh, baby had the vision planned out so perfectly too. You would arrive alone, right? Perhaps a little late knowing how you girls were. Your eyes would find him across the rink.. he’d wave you over with a pretty smile, say something clever to make you giggle, something charming to make you blush, and the two of you would spend the whole evening together. Simple! Romantic! And honestly.. the sort of thing that only ever seemed possible in his imagination.
Instead, you arrived wrapped in a world that had nothing to do with him.
You were laughing before you had even fully stepped inside, surrounded by friends who seemed to orbit you as naturally as planets around the sun. One of them hooked an arm through yours. Another leaned close enough to whisper something that sent you into another fit of giggles. You moved through the crowd completely absorbed in your circle, tucked safely inside a bubble of conversation and affection that Michael found himself staring at with an intensity that bordered on painful.
It was ridiculous, really. He knew that. These were your friends. People who loved you. People who had every right to occupy your attention. Yet all he could think about was how easily they had access to you. They could stand beside you without overthinking. They could make you laugh without rehearsing every sentence beforehand. They could touch your arm, lean into your space, steal your attention for entire evenings without their heart threatening to beat itself clean out of their chest. Michael hated the ugly little stab of jealousy the realization inspired but it settled in anyway, impossible to ignore.
The worst part was that you looked so happy. Not even looking for him. Not wondering if he had shown up. Not scanning the room in search of a familiar face. You were perfectly content exactly where you were and that simple fact managed to burst his fantasy more effectively than outright rejection ever could have. It forced him to confront the embarrassing truth that while he had spent the better part of a week thinking about you, you had probably spent the week simply living your life.
His fingers tightened around his cup as he watched you laugh again, your head tilting back beneath the colorful lights. God, you were beautiful. So beautiful it almost felt unfair. There was something doll like about you tonight, something soft and luminous that seemed untouched by the chaos around you. For a moment, Michael forgot entirely about the drink in his hand. Orange juice slipped over the rim and splashed across the table, but he barely noticed. The pounding in his ears had grown so loud that the rest of the rink seemed to fade into the background.
All he could see was you.
And all he could think, with a mixture of longing and frustration that made him feel like an awkward teen instead of twenty one, was that every single person standing between him and you suddenly felt like an obstacle because they were occupying the exact place he wished he was.
The pounding in his ears was so loud he didn’t even hear Bill calling for him. “Michael.”
No response. “Michael.” Still nothing.
“Yeah, that brotha’s starvin’.” Bill says shaking his head, causing the other two in his party to chuckle at how adorably absurd this entire situation was.
The longer he watched, the worse it became.
At first, Michael told himself he was being dramatic. You had only been there a few minutes. There was no reason to assume you wouldn’t acknowledge him eventually. No reason to let his imagination run wild simply because you were occupied talking with your friends.
Yet with every passing moment, his confidence seemed to shrink.
You looked so settled over there. Every now and then another person would stop to greet you, extending the circle around you further. You laughed, listened, smiled, completely absorbed in whatever conversation was unfolding. Meanwhile, Michael remained exactly where he was, nursing a cup of orange juice and feeling increasingly foolish for having spent the entire evening waiting for you.
The ugly little voice in the back of his mind began whispering all the things he hated most.
Maybe you hadn’t come for him. Maybe you’d only mentioned stopping by in passing. Maybe you hadn’t even noticed he was there.
His stomach twisted.
The more he thought about it, the more embarrassed he became. Suddenly every hopeful fantasy he’d entertained over the past week felt very childish. Of course you weren’t looking for him. Why would you be? You had a life, friends, people you genuinely wanted to see. You were a socialite. The world did not stop spinning simply because Michael Jackson happened to have a crush.
Across the table, Bill watched the slow collapse unfold in real time. The slumped shoulders, distant stare, the deepening pout.
“Don’t start.”
Michael frowned. “’M not startin’ anything.” Oh! He has a little funky attitude now.
“Alright now.” Bill warned and Michael looked away.
For a moment, Michael seriously considered leaving the booth altogether. Maybe he’d skate a few laps, find something else to focus on. Anything was preferable to sitting there feeling sorry for himself while you remained blissfully unaware of the emotional catastrophe taking place twenty feet away.
Then it happened.
Your laughter softened as the conversation around you shifted, and for the first time since you'd arrived your attention wandered. Almost absentmindedly, your gaze swept across the rink drifting over the crowd until it landed on him.
Michael forgot how to breathe.
The feeling was instantaneous and overwhelming. One moment he had been sitting there stewing in his wounded pride, thoroughly convinced that you hadn’t noticed him all evening. The next, he found himself trapped beneath the weight of your attention, every insecurity he’d managed to accumulate over the last ten minutes suddenly feeling ridiculous.
Because you had noticed him.
And apparently, you’d noticed him quite a while ago. A smile began to form on your lips, and Michael felt his stomach drop for an entirely different reason.
It wasn’t a grin nor was it playful enough to be teasing or sweet enough to be innocent. It was something far more dangerous than either of those things. A smile touched with amusement and recognition, as though you’d caught sight of something you found particularly endearing. As though the sight of him sitting over there, staring at you from across the rink like a lovesick puppy had confirmed something you’d suspected all along.
Heat climbed his neck and the longer you looked at him, the more certain he became that you’d seen everything.
You’d seen him checking the entrance, seen him watching your group from across the room. Seen the way his mood had visibly soured the longer he convinced himself you weren’t coming over.
The realization should have mortified him. Instead, all it seemed to do was make him feel validated.
God.
You looked beautiful.
The colorful lights flashed across your face as you stood among your friends on the rink, completely at ease in a way Michael had always envied. While he spent half his life overthinking every conversation, every interaction, every glance, you moved through the world so effortlessly confident that made everything look easy. You never seemed concerned with whether people liked you. They just did. You never chased attention because it found you anyway.
And right now, all of that attention was directed at him.
Neither of you looked away as the skaters continued moving around you. Music thundered from the speakers. Laughter echoed throughout the rink.
Yet somehow the space between you felt strangely quiet.
Then you lifted your hand.
Just one finger.
Crooked toward yourself.
Come here.
It felt like a command because it absolutely was, with the confidence of someone who already knew exactly what would happen next. And the truly humiliating part was that you were right.
Michael was on his feet before his brain had fully processed the gesture. His knee struck the edge of the table and all the drinks nearly spilled over as the booth rattled violently.
A chorus of protests erupted behind him as he nearly sent the entire setup crashing to the floor, but Michael barely heard any of it. He was already moving through the crowd, abandoning every ounce of composure he’d spent the evening trying to maintain.
Behind him, Bill watched the scene unfold with the exhausted expression of a man witnessing something both embarrassing and completely predictable.
“Oh, man. That boy is gone.”
Because after all that moping, it had taken exactly one finger to get Michael Jackson moving. Not a greeting or even his name.
Just a look and a simple little come here.
And off he went.
You stood on the other side of the low barricade that separated the rink from the seating area, balanced easily on your own personal skates. Colored lights skimmed across the polished wood beneath your feet, catching on your jewelry every time you moved. Up close, Michael found you even more distracting. You smelled so good.
The journey across the rink had done absolutely nothing to improve his condition. If anything, it had made it worse.
“Hi, Michael.” You tilted your head slightly as you looked at him, your smile lingering at the corners of your mouth.
“Hi.” The response came out embarrassingly quiet.
For all the confidence he’d managed to summon while crossing the room, it deserted him the second he arrived. He was suddenly intensely interested in the floor, the barricade, the wheels on your skates, anything except your eyes.
A soft laugh escaped your lips. “You look nice.”
Before he could respond, your hand rose to straighten his collar. The gesture was casual and like muscle memory, and Michael felt every nerve in his body come alive beneath your touch. Your fingers smoothed the fabric before sliding behind his neck, settling briefly against the nape.
Your acrylics scratched lightly through his curls just enough to send a pleasant shiver down his spine.
You noticed the way his shoulders stiffened and your smile widened. “Miss me?”
Michael swallowed. The honest answer sat so heavily in his chest that he couldn’t think of a clever way around it.
“Yeah..” His voice was barely above a mumble.
You heard him but you pretended like you didn’t just to hear him say it again. “Hm?”
Then he nodded and a little louder, “Yeah.”
Something softened in your expression, satisfaction. You’d suspected that was going to be the answer and you were merely waiting to hear him say it.
“That’s sweet.”
Michael felt his face grow hotter. You, meanwhile, appeared completely unaffected.
“Go get skates.” You ordered
Michael blinked. “Pardon?” He wasn’t listening, he was staring.
”Go get skates.” You gave his shoulder a light push. “You’re not gonna sit over there all night, are you?”
“Oh, right!” Another blink. “Okay.”
You stared at him.
Michael stared back.
A laugh escaped you. “Michael.”
“Yeah?”
”Go.”
He nodded immediately. “Right. Okay.” Then he turned and started walking away to rent some skates for the night.
By the time the night was halfway over, the pattern had become impossible to ignore.
Michael had spent most of the night orbiting you.
Not hovering awkwardly across the room or lingering nearby under the pretense of doing his own thing. Deadass on you. Every time you moved, he ended up moving too. If you skated toward the opposite side of the rink, he followed. If you stopped to talk to someone, he appeared a few feet behind you waiting for you to get done. More than once, you’d looked over your shoulder only to discover him on your heels, wearing the innocent expression of a man who had absolutely no idea how he’d gotten there.
The funniest part was that he never seemed aware he was doing it, but you were no better.
At one point you’d hooked a finger through one of his belt loops and dragged him through a crowd because he kept getting distracted by people stopping to talk to him. Michael hadn’t protested, he was right where he wanted to be and simply allowed himself to be steered wherever you wanted him, weaving obediently between skaters and crowds alike while your friends tried not to laugh. Which by the way? You didn’t like very much, because you should always be the one giggling him out of his underwear.
Then later, there was a point where the music grew too loud and you’d grabbed his jaw to pull his face closer so you could hear him better.
“What?”
You’d tugged him forward. “What’d you say?”
Michael had repeated himself, this time barely three inches from your ear. The poor thing had nearly short circuited.
Now he was standing at the concession counter retrieving the drink you’s sent him to get, and your friends were watching him with poorly concealed amusement.
“Girl,” One of them said, glancing between you and Michael. “He’s been overly going. All night.”
A smile tugged at your mouth. “I know.”
Across the room, Michael accepted the drink from the cashier before immediately turning to look for you. The second he spotted you, he started heading back like clockwork.
You watched him approach, taking in the sight of him weaving through the crowd with such earnest determination that somehow managed to be both charming and ridiculous.
“He’s just as cute in person, right?” you asked.
Your friend barked out a laugh. “He’s cute but what if the shy thing is for appearances?”
You shrugged, not minding her. “I’ve known him for a while through my dad, he’s really like that. I think it’s charming.”
“How old is he again?”
“Twenty one.”
Your friend made a face. “Girl..”
“What?” You laughed. “I’m twenty (number).”
"I don't know— younger guys.. they be lowkey annoying.”
Your gaze drifted back toward Michael. He was almost there now, protecting the drink from being knocked out of his hands while navigating around people.
The sight made something warm settle in your chest.
“Mm.” You tilted your head slightly, she eyes him. “He’s been good to me though..”
Michael finally reached the group and immediately held out the drink you’d asked for and his expression brightened the moment you took it.
Like he’d just accomplished something so important.
You were feeling generous tonight, maybe even a little possessive.
That was the only explanation you could come up with later, because the way the evening had escalated felt almost absurd in retrospect. One moment Michael had been trailing after you everywhere you went, carrying drinks, accepting orders, allowing himself to be tugged through crowds by his ear whenever he drifted too far away from you. The next, you were standing beside him beneath the flashing lights, watching him laugh again at something one of your girlfriends said, and making a decision that surprised even you because usually you were much more.. tactful.
Maybe it was the way he’d spent the entire night looking at you or the fact that he’d never once complained. Maybe it was because every time you called his name, he appeared instantly.
Whatever the reason, you’d found yourself gliding up beside him as the night began winding down. Michael was midway through a conversation with Bill when you hooked a finger through the front of his shirt and pulled him down slightly.
He went without resistance.
Of course he did.
The music was still loud enough that nobody else could hear you as you leaned close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.
“You’re coming home with me tonight.” You felt him go completely still. “Say bye bye to Bill and your people, ‘kay?”
For a moment, Michael simply stared at the floor and you watched the reaction spread down his neck. When he finally looked at you, there was something dazed in his expression, as though his brain had temporarily stopped functioning.
“Okay.” The answer came so fast you nearly laughed.
Not where?
Not why?
Not even a hesitant really?
Just: “Okay.”
You bit back a smile and wave at Bill as she glides away back to her table and Michael had barely managed three words of explanation before Bill figured it out.
Not that there had been much mystery to solve, the equation practically solved itself.
Bill sighed heavily. “You serious?”
Michael nodded. “Yeah.”
“She askin’ or tellin’?” Bill immediately had his answer when Michael coughed in response.
Michael looked down at the floor and Bill shook his head. “Son, one of these days you’re gonna have to stop jumpin’every time that woman points somewhere.”
Michael’s embarrassment deepened. “I don’t do that.”
The thing was, Bill liked you. You made Michael happy. You were good to him. You looked after him in your own way.
Bill had no objections there. His issue was the complete collapse of Michael’s spine whenever you entered the equation.
The boy had spent all evening following you around like he’d been hired for the job. “You know she already likes you, right?” Bill asked.
Michael blinked. “Huh?”
Bill rubbed his face. “She already likes you.”
Michael stared, the very suggestion seemed impossible to him. “But..”
Bill already knew where this was going. “But what?”
Michael shrugged awkwardly.
“She’s..”
“Pretty?” Michael nodded.
“Successful?” Another nod.
“Older than you?” A smaller nod.
Bill threw his hands in the air. “And?”
Michael didn’t answer, because that was the problem.
Somewhere deep down, Michael still couldn’t understand why someone like you would choose him when you could have anybody. Meanwhile, everyone around him had been forced to watch you practically drag him around a roller rink all evening.
Bill snorted. “Son, if you don’t quit feelin’ sorry for yourself."
Michael frowned. “I’m not..”
Bill laughed. “She got you fetchin’ drinks, carryin’ her stuff, followin’ her around, and lookin’ at her like she hung the moon.”
Michael buried his face in his hands.
You looked over your shoulder at him across the room, probably to see what was taking so long and the second Michael noticed, he straightened.
Bill caught it and a long, exhausted sigh followed.
Then he patted Michael’s shoulder. “Go on. Use protection.”
Michael sputtered. “You’re talkin’ dirty! I’m a gentleman.”
Bill shook his head. “You hopeless.”
The funny thing is Bill didn’t dislike the dynamic. He probably finds it adorable. He just spends a lot of the time trying, and failing, to convince Michael that being loved by a confident woman did not require acting like he’d been personally selected by royalty every single day. Michael, unfortunately, would continue acting exactly like that.
Because he loved bossy women.
You were beautiful—everyone knew that. It wasn’t exactly a revolutionary observation. People noticed when you walked into a room, they turned their heads and stumbled over conversations, found reasons to linger a little longer in your presence.
But Michael’s problem had long since surpassed simple attraction, because your pussy was the closest thing Michael thought he’d ever get to experiencing heaven while he was still on earth.
The thing about Michael was that he was sort of person who experienced affection through proximity. He liked sitting close enough for your shoulders to touch. He liked feeling your weight beside him on a couch. He liked the absent minded ways you occupied space, the little touches that seemed insignificant to everyone else but somehow lingered in his mind for days afterward.
The truth was that he never quite got used to you, even more so because you were the one to take his virginity.
Some people eventually acclimated to affection, they normalized it and over time, they came to expect it. Michael never seemed capable of doing that. Every act of intimacy, no matter how small, retained its ability to affect him. A hand on the back of his neck. Your fingers smoothing his collar. Your arm looping through his. Tiny gestures that should have become ordinary by now somehow remained extraordinary.
There’s unfortunately just a small part of him still couldn’t believe he was being chosen.
For Michael, intimacy was never something separate from affection. The two were hopelessly intertwined. Physical closeness carried an emotional weight that he couldn’t easily detach from which is why he’s so enamored with you. Where other people might eventually grow accustomed to being loved, Michael seemed determined to remain grateful for it. The familiarity never dulled his appreciation.
You’re no longer just the woman he has a crush on. You’re the person he trusted with something deeply personal. The person who guided him through an experience he had spent years imagining, worrying about, romanticizing, and building up in his head.
The irony is that it probably makes him less focused on sex itself and more focused on you.
Because afterward, what’s left isn’t necessarily the memory of the sex. It’s the memory of your kindness. Your patience. The way you looked at him during. The fact that you wanted him there with you. The feeling of being accepted completely, without performance or expectation.
For someone like Michael, that would be difficult to separate from love. Very difficult.
“Fuck, Michael,” You feel breathless, hands resting on the sides of his abdomen as you wrap your legs around his waist. Michael balances his weight above you, palms spread out on your soft bedding as you pull him closer with each thrust deeper into your pussy. Your pubic bones met with each movement, curly bushes intermingling and creating a friction. “That feel s’good, baby. Can’t believe you’re fuckin’ me this good..”
Michael’s face twists with a cute strain, his eyes squeeze shut so tightly his brows pinch. Every muscle in his body goes rigid as he fights the overwhelming to pump his nut inside of you. He can’t cum now. It’s too early, it’s way too soon. He can’t. He can’t. It’s barely been three minutes! But the filth spilling from your pretty lips in such a nasty tone makes his dick fucking throb and jerk against your tight walls. ”Lovey.. stop—stop.. stop talkin’ for a second..”
You know exactly what you’re doing, but you don’t mind. He’s been very generous with his mouth tonight and you can’t even count the amount of times you used his tongue to get off. Emphasis on you using his tongue, he’s eager to please but he still needs a little guidance. So, usually when he’s between your legs, you’re practically face fucking him. Hands in his curly coils to hold him in place as you roll your clit along his tongue.
Your heavy breasts bounce and sway with each sloppy thrust, jiggling provocatively under his straining chest. You reach up, soft palms cupping his tense cheeks, tenderly stroking his sweaty skin as you whisper.
“Look,” You tilt his face down, forcing him to look directly beneath the two of you—making him watch. “Look at that dick fucking your pussy, daddy.” He lets out a particularly pathetic whine as the nickname, you only use it to tease him but he seems to like it even though.. he’s not really the ”daddy” type. He watches as his slick, latex covered cock pushes relentlessly in and out of your pretty petaled pussy. The smooth wrapper makes his shaft glide effortlessly, pumping in and out as his dark skin contrasts against the lighter colored latex. Fuck, it’s pretty. All six inches of it.
“Who’s pussy is this? Let me know..” You grab his jaw, making him look at you as you gently runs a finger down his bottom lip to watch it pop back into place.
“It’s mine..” He whimpers out.
“Yeah? ’s all yours?” You smile, slipping her ring and middle finger into his mouth.
“Mhm..” He nods, closing his eyes again as he sucks on her fingers.
“Look at me, baby..” You say and he reluctantly does as he’s told. “I love watching you fuck me this good..” You look up at him with those big soft eyes, your expression melting into a breathtaking mix of pure adoration and overwhelming affection. Right now, there’s nothing dirty in your gaze now, only a deep, lovesick tenderness that reciprocates his same feelings for you—and it completely unravels him. Seeing you look at him with such.. love is his absolute undoing, shattering his control instantly.
Michael’s hips start to stutter and falter, his rhythm breaking as he approaches his high. His face contorts with distress, a mixture of pleasure and panic etched into his features.
“Oh—m’god..” He pants, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Can’t.. that's gonna make me..”
“Make you what, angel face? Cum?” You smile.
“I can’t—I really can’t..” There’s really no warning.
Michael’s body suddenly goes rigid and his hips press deep as he buries himself completely inside you. His muscles tense and twitch as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over him, filling the condom with thick ropes of hot, sticky cum.
Michael collapses fully onto you, his strength completely spent as his body trembles uncontrollably. His hips continue to rut instinctively, pathetic little twitches driving his spent cock deeper into your warmth as he rides out the overwhelming aftershocks. His face buries into you shoulder, whimpering softly.
“Sorry.. sorry—felt too good..” There’s always a sense of shame that sits on his chest because since he’s been having sex, he’s been struggling with prematurely finishing. But you always tell him it’s not his fault when he brings it up hours later, his body has never known a woman until relatively recently. It just makes his body notoriously hypersensitive and prone to finishing too soon. It takes some time to build an endurance. But what he lacks in lasting, he makes up for with his refractory period which is seemingly nonexistent.
hii so I was thinking something along the lines as sub!mike gets caught masturbating then is punished for playing with himself and has to beg for forgiveness and attention..
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐝| 𝐌.𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧
Michael missed you with every fiber of his being. A family emergency in New York had forced you away for over a week, and with little contact between the two of you, the separation was becoming unbearable. Desperate for any trace of your presence, he found himself lingering over your laundry and staring endlessly at the photo of you tucked inside his wallet, searching for comfort in your absence.
But today was different, he needed something. Anything to hear your voice again, even going up in the attic and going through boxes from when the two of you first got married. Unopened wedding gifts & thousands of photos, smiling to himself as he found a picture of you in your wedding dress
Just as he began to flee from the attic an old vhs tape slipped out of a box. Picking it up he wasn’t sure what it could be because the two of you had so much recorded footage from over the years..every family get together and any event that was special was recorded. But this tape had no label on it which was unusual
“Hmm” he said as he tapped his finger against the tape
Bringing it downstairs he blew the dust off of it before inserting it into the vhs player in the bedroom the two of you share. Sitting patiently in front of the tv it took awhile before anything happened
“Yesss baby keep going just like that!”
Michael’s eyes immediately grew twice the size they already were once he realized this was the sextape the two of you made on a vacation back in Guam a couple years ago
The video captured Michael fucking you in back shots while holding the camera and using his other hand to smack your butt and keep your cheeks spread open so he could capture your fluids leaking out and all over his dick
“Baby you’re soaked” he grunted
Immediately Michael knew the right thing to do was cut it off but he became infatuated with what he was seeing. His pupils enlarged and his dick grew in size as his arousal peaked, he hadn’t orgasmed in almost two weeks and everyday it was becoming harder to fight the urge, feeling his balls get heavier everytime he got hard
Grabbing a bottle of lotion off the bathroom counter he returned to the homemade footage and coated himself in the cold lotion before wrapping his dominant hand around his dick and stroking from the base and slowly worked his way up to the tip
“Baby I need you so bad” he said to himself
The sounds of you moaning followed by Michael pressing further into you allowed him to shut his eyes and relive that moment of passion. Fantasizing about how good you felt and the sweet whimpers you made
Just as Michael found himself getting lost in his own thoughts the sound of something heavy hit the floor causing his eyes to shoot open and cover himself in embarrassment
It was you.
Standing in the doorway with your suitcase and the angriest look on your face as you watched him masturbate
“Wait baby I promise it’s not what you think” he protested “As soon as I realized what it was I was gonna shut it off”
Without saying anything you slammed the door shut and kicked your heels off to kneel in front of Michael
“I left you for one week… seven days Michael”
“I’m so sorry darling I swear. I just missed you so terribly. Look at me”
Grabbing your hand and allowing you to feel the heaviness of his balls from the lack of orgasms
“My poor baby” you kissed his forehead gently and used your pointing finger to rub his tip
“You missed me that bad didn’t you?” You whispered in his ear before sucking on it
“Mhm” nodding profusely
“I’m here now—you wanna cum I’ll make you cum”
Michael was so desperate for your love and attention that he completely missed the double meaning behind your words. Instead, he simply gave in to them, nodding eagerly as he hung on to every syllable that left your lips
Sitting with Michael in between your legs and began making out with him while rubbing your hands all over his chest. Taking your sweet time to reach his dick before gripping it tightly
He gasped softly in your mouth which gave you dominance over his tongue. Sucking and spitting in his mouth as you jerked him off
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” You asked pulling away
“I needed this so badly…I thought about you everyday you were away from me”
“Like what baby?”
“The way you smile at me, your soft hands in my hair, your kisses…kissing all over my body and the way you grip around my dick when you’re on top—fuck me” he yelled out
Taking your eyes off of Michael’s face you felt his orgasm exploding all over your hand as you continued to stroke his dick. The energy in the room shifted once Michael realized you hadn’t stopped
“Baby?” He asked breathing heavy and fast “Baby what’s going on?”
“You wanted to cum so badly right? You just couldn’t wait for me to get home and please you right? So now I’m gonna make you cum until you can’t do it anymore”
Michael noted the sinister nature in your voice and the heavy chuckle as you continued to jerk him off. His body tensed harder than before. You knew how sensitive his dick was after an orgasm, a sense of deep pleasure but also slight pain as well. Something that could hurt so much that it starts to feel good
“Baby I’m sorry—I just started when you walked in here I didn’t get far at all”
“Shhh, my sweet baby boy don’t worry about it” kissing his temple “I told you relax”
Michael could feel his stomach tightening up as his orgasm began to creep up on him “Baby please I’m sorry I don’t wanna cum anymore I learned my lesson”
You simply ignored him and watched his entire body jerk forward as his second orgasm hit like a constant motion of waves. His back was covered in sweat and he was so ashamed that he was moaning so hopelessly
“Michael why did you disobey me?”
“Because I can’t stand to be away from you. I need you all the time”
“Awww you’re so sweet” you coo’d
Standing from your position you cleaned your hand off before stripping out of your bottoms and returned to Michael
“Open your mouth for me baby” you spoke softly as you ran your fingers through his hair
Nervous as ever he opened his mouth and watched as you spit in gently, eagerly he swallowed your saliva making his dick jump. Swallowing the lump in his throat
“Please give me more…please?” A soft gasp coming from him
“I have something better” you pushed his head back into the mattress and began grinding your pussy into his mouth. Fucking his face and guiding the rhythm of his tongue until the two of you went into sync
His tongue stiffened inside of you as you continued to ride his face. Your breathing became uneasy and your stomach quivered
“You know what Michael? You wanna act like a slut I’m gonna start treating you like one” you moaned
“So desperate you couldn’t even go a couple days without me so you had to dig through some old boxes just to watch me get fucked” You bitterly replied
“What am I gonna do with you Michael?”
You pushed your clitoris into his nose and rode him faster as he sucked your pussy and gripped onto your ass as if he was begging for more of you. His head shook side to side forcefully
As much as he loved being submissive to you he loved making you cum. Feeling your pussy shake uncontrollably in his mouth he came for the third time while groaning inside of you, making you cum harder than before
As you separated yourself from his mouth he sucked one last time making a loud noise making you shudder desperately. Getting on your knees pecking his lips and allowing Michael to feel relief
“You’re still not out the dog house…perv” biting down on his lip before grabbing his face and walking away, leaving him in a sticky mess and a wet face
And even with the treatment that Michael received, he still wanted more from you. His dick jumped watching your ass jiggle as you walked away
omggg I live for your writing and need more sub!mike, I was thinking maybe something along of them playing twister and things get a little heated 👀👀 I want to see how you’d play this out but also having him yearn for his lover
𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝| 𝐌.𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧
“Michael you know I suck at this game” you whined
“C’mon you haven’t even tried yet” Michael chuckled
You watched your boyfriend beaming as he pulled out the twister mat and neatly push out the creases in the plastic. This was one of his favorite games despite your loathing for it. Crossing your arms and taking a deep sigh, Michael hovered over you and gently rubbed your elbows, staring in your eyes before placing a kiss on your lips
“Just one round ? For me please? Then we can do whatever it is you want before we go to bed”
“Just one round” you protested holding up a finger
His smile glowed even brighter than before as he hugged you tightly before grabbing the spinning board
“Okay you go first” he announced
You were now in an awkward position with nothing for support. Your feet spread apart followed by your hands in front of you both on blue circles
“Michael can you please tell me how I’m supposed to spin the board from this position??”
He grabbed the board and chuckled before he laid eyes on you, then his laughter quickly died out as he began staring at your backside. The way your cheeks were spread apart and how noticeable it was through your fitted dress
Still staring, he became lost in a trance biting down on his lip and fantasizing about what he would do to you given the opportunity
“Michael!” You yelled out as your leg gave out causing you to collapse onto the mat
“I-“ he scrambled coming to your aid, accidentally pressing his dick against your butt trying to reach for your arms
“What were you doing back there? I held that position forever waiting on you”
“I….spaced out”
The two of you now standing as Michael rubbed your shoulders
“How’s your leg, bunny?”
You blushed as you looked down at it “it’s fine it’s just a little—“
“A little what?”
That’s when you noticed his boner, more noticeable than ever sticking out of his jeans
“Michael you’re hard aren’t you?” You began toying with his zipper
His stomach slightly caved in and he backed into the wall with you hot on his trail, still not giving up
“That’s why you didn’t say anything you were watching me weren’t you?”
Michael couldn’t resist you. Especially when you spoke in a soft voice and began touching him. As you began unbuckling his pants and pulling it from around his waist and allowing the metal matter hit the ground
“Isn’t it true?”
“Yes” he whimpered
“So why didn’t you just tell me you wanted me Michael?”
As your hands snaked down his pants he began to shudder at your physical touch. Your warm hands around his member as you gently stroked him while smirking directly in Michael’s face, making him feel vulnerable
“Because I-I was lusting after you”
“That’s normal Michael…we all have urges”
“You have them also?” He asked innocently
“Mhm” you giggled as you guided him over to the bed
“Sit right here for me please?” You pointed at the floor in between your legs
Immediately Michael dropped to his knees and sat in front of you with a look of despair in his big beautiful eyes. Itching with anticipation as you slowly moved your straps down and revealed your perky breasts
“Is this what you want Michael?”
Nodding his head unable to take his eyes off of them “Yes…oh goodness yes I think about them all day long”
Motioning with your finger you commanded Michael scoot in closer than he already was. Placing your hands on the side of his face, tilting his head up and kissing him gently for a few seconds. As soon as Michael tried to deepen the kiss with his tongue you pulled back, watching him struggle to keep his composure
“Now I want you to suck on them until I say stop okay? Can you do that for me?”
“Yes! Yes whatever you want”
“Suck”
Michael latched onto your nipples like his life depended on it, you watched his tongue sloppily swirl around your nipples and even the way he struggled trying to place your entire breast in his mouth at a time
Your head dropped slowly and you let out a desperate moan before you looked back at him “Fuck Michael, you’re so greedy tonight”
He rotated your nipples in his mouth and when he wasn’t sucking on the other nipple he used two fingers to play with it and provide stimulation
“Michael” your voice frantically shaking
But this didn’t move him, he continued to moan into your nipples and lose himself in the process. Sucking on them as if that was his way of showing you how much he loved you
Unexpectedly your clit began to quiver and you came in your thong. You came so hard that it leaked out and made a puddle underneath you. Moaning at the top of your lungs as he continued to suck until you gave out and collapsed into the bed
“Michael how did you do that??”
“Did I do a good job?” Pity hiding behind his voice
“Yes baby you made me cum so fast , just from sucking on my nipples..that never happened to me before”
“Can you make me…you know?”
Grabbing Michael by his hands you guided him to the bed and pushed him down, crawling on him and kissing his neck and chest before attacking his lips
“Tell me what you want from me Michael…anything”
His face burned hot red, so embarrassed he had to close his eyes before speaking
“I-I want you to get on top of me…this time without our clothes in the way. I wanna feel you on the inside”
The both of you completely naked and burning with desire for one another. You were purposefully rubbing your wet folds against his dick for a tease “How does that feel baby?”
“It feels like you’re driving me crazy” he gasped
“Bunny you don’t know how badly I want this. I feel like I’m gonna explode if I don’t have you, I’m throbbing so bad down there that it’s starting to hurt me. Please don’t do this to me” he begged
You loved making Michael bed for you, it wasn’t that you needed it but you loved it. How weak he’d grow for you and how he didn’t care for sounding desperate
Finally you sat on his dick and began grinding into him before getting comfortable and rolling your hips into his. Watching Michael completely fall apart made you want to cum just seeing how pleased he was already
“Fuck Michael you’re so big” you whimpered
He grabbed your breasts and squeezed them giving you even more pleasure, watching them bounce around in his large hands
“Can you go faster please? You’re so wet I can feel you leaking all over me”
Following his command you began bouncing on his dick with your hands pressed into his chest for support, every bounce was met with a gasp spilling from your mouth “Fuuuuuck” you moaned
“Just like that” Michael repeated over and over again
“Oh my g- bunny you look so pretty when you fuck me like this”
You seemed shocked as you watched him move your hair to the side, he nodded his head as if he read your mind
“You get so messy just to please me..I love it”
“I’d do anything for you Daddy”
The two of you covered in sweat trying to keep up with each other but fighting the urge to orgasm
“Bunny I don’t want it to be over”
“Me either baby” you gasped “but I’m ready to cum”
You buried your face in Michael’s neck and bounced using your knees until that urge in your stomach became unbearable and you squirted all over him while biting his neck. Michael grabbed you by your hips forcing you to keep fucking him until he reached his peak and came inside of you, holding you in place as he dug deeper with his dick chasing the high of his orgasm
“Thank you, thank you, thank you” he repeated as tears began to fall from his eyes
“Baby why are you crying?” Stroking his face
“Nobody ever made me feel this good before bunny, you do something special to me every-time we have sex. The way you touch me and cater to my body..I love all of it”
“You’re such a good boy for me Michael. I love making you feel like that because you do it for me, the way you’re such a gentleman for me is what makes me fuck you like this”
Getting out of the bed you went and cut the shower on for you and Michael. Once inside you watched him wash off ever inch of your body before he thought about himself
Michael was your first real boyfriend and he was the sweetest person you ever met. He was always on time, anytime you needed him he would show up for you, always had flowers for you, planned dates, and never expected anything in return. That’s why you loved Michael because he loved you genuinely and never looked at you the way other guys did, he was different in so many ways. He was patient. The night you two lost your virginity to one another was the most special bonding moments the two of you had together
A/N: I absolutely love when yall send in requests ! I love reading and bringing these fantasies to life. Please keep sending in :)
synopsis: despite being jermaine’s girlfriend, michael’s always had a huge crush on you. the infatuation only growing when you show up at his house in a skimpy bikini — giving him the most agonisingly hard cock he’s ever had. so, of course as the best big sister-in-law ever, you have to help him out!
warning; sexual themes, smut, 18+, sub!mike, cheating, age gap (not that much), soft dom!reader
Michael was sweating.
Maybe it was because of the blistering Californian sun.
Or maybe it was because of you.
Regardless, the way the sweat poured off his skin, trickling down the back of his neck, had him shivering despite the scorching sun that beat down on him.
You were tormentingly forbidden — something to, guiltily, stare at but never touch. Never have. Something that would bug Michael every chance he’d catch your eyes across the room, or when he’d let his gaze linger too long on your perfect frame, or when you brushed past him with that sickly sweet smile you always wore with a soft ‘’Scuse me, honey’. Something he’d be kept up at night pondering on.
Forbidden as you belonged to someone else.
That someone else being his brother.
Which made his private infatuation with you a million times worse — the shame lingering deep in his chest whenever he feels his heart jump whenever you grin at him.
But the guilt that often crept up his spine in an obvious crawl was eerily absent today — instead a familiar yet unaccustomed feeling loitered deep inside him. Michael couldn’t quite put his finger on it — he was certain he’d felt like this before when he looked at you, but it was clear he’d never acted on the feeling before.
It was something about the way that you laid oh so deliciously on the sun-lounger — legs crossed at the ankle, displaying your pedicured, white toenails glistening in the sun, skin a sun-kissed glow from the sunscreen you’d lathered on yourself, hair in a messy ponytail, eyes shielded in Armani sunglasses and a Pina Colada in hand. You were tanning — and it had Michael spiralling.
But, the best part? Your striking, baby-pink, string bikini.
The one that he knows his sister bought you for your birthday a mere few weeks ago, now deciding to bring it out for its first wear. Michael cursed the day you accepted that gift as he was now fighting the urge to let his cock twitch desperately in his swimming shorts at the sight of your exposed body — gawking at the way the condensation from the Pina Colada glass dripped down your manicured fingers, before dropping and sliding down the curve of your breast.
He shuffled uncomfortably on the sun-lounger next to you — trying his best to shift his shorts to display his achingly hard cock in a less obvious way. His eyes though, locked onto your glistening frame, your relaxed stance had him admiring the way you got comfortable — your fingers curled calmly by your sides, sometimes reaching up to twirl the string of your bikini bottoms between your manicured digits, or the way you sighed out loud every now and again, tongue darting out to wet your dry lips. Michael gawked at each movement — wondering whether you sighed that gracefully when you were tired, or whether it was a noise of content? Or was that the kind of noise you’d make as his fingers would slide over your skin, or whether it reached a higher octave when he’d slide his fingers insid—
“Michael, sweetie?”
Your sweet voice made him jump — his startled eyes now connecting with your sun-glasses clad ones, a playful smile on your face, “Would you be an angel and put some sunscreen on my back, honey?”
Michael took a stunned few seconds before he answered, lips parted in shock ever so slightly, “I—uh, sure. D-Do you not want me to grab Jermaine?”
He hated the way his chest tightened in envy at the mention of your boyfriend.
You sat up slowly, eyes never leaving his slim frame — his curls slightly frizzing up in the heat, smile deepening at the adorably innocent expression plastered on his face, “He ain’t out here, is he?”
Michael swallowed thickly, his eyes flicking to his brother, Jermaine, in the large pool that covered the backyard of Hayvenhurst, watching as he swam after his other brother, Marlon, before averting his gaze back to you, “‘Suppose not.”
“Then come over, baby, don’t want me to start burnin’, do ya?”
Michael sat up too, shuffling in a way that avoided his still hard cock to be concealed by his shorts, not leaving anytime soon after the casual nickname fell past your plump lips, before perching on the edge of his lounger.
“Atta boy.”
Michael sighed shakily, picking up the sunscreen lotion that laid beside your chair, flicking the cap open gently before squeezing a generous amount onto his clammy palms. You had already situated your bare back to face him, humming quietly to a song Michael recognised as one of his own, awaiting his touch.
You had no idea what you did to him — that’s what killed him most. You, humming away subconsciously to one of his songs, waiting patiently, half-naked, for him to rub lotion into your skin. Jesus.
Michael reached forward, a gentle, yet shaken, hand colliding softly with the leanness of your shoulders — his large hands beginning to lather the protective lotion into your skin. He tentatively avoided your bikini, to avoid staining the material in the grease of the lotion, but also knowing if he had to touch the very clothing that had him so antsy with desperation that it would definitely send him into tachycardia beyond rescue.
As he moved smoothly down your back, the cream now slicking your supple skin, he couldn’t help but admire the painfully obvious ink that clad your spine. He cleared his throat behind you — eyes never leaving the trail of flowers that bloomed in black, slightly faded, ink on your skin.
The artistic sentiment of your dainty tattoo had him pondering — mind trailing over to how different you were to him. You were older, closer in age to Jermaine and La Toya than you were him, oozed confidence like you were the most important person in the room, wore expensive, out-going, feminine outfits that always caught his eye whenever you’d visit the family home, had wit quicker than he’d ever seen and a flirtatious attitude that had him blushing every time you’d compliment him subtly.
You were polar opposites — he was shy, quiet, gentle and, some would say, insecure, despite his superstar persona. On the surface, he pretended he didn’t know why he was so infatuated with you — but, deep down he knew it was because you were something he couldn’t have, but so desperately wanted.
“Gone real quiet back there, Mr, you doin’ okay?”
Your voice dragged him out of his daydream once again, a blush creeping up onto his cheeks, “Sorry. Was just looking at your..thing.”
“My thing?” You laughed softly, “Funny way to describe my tattoo, honey.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Michael chuckled behind you, hands still moving gently against you, “Your tattoo, I mean. It’s very..different.”
“Good different I should hope. I had that done a few years ago.” You revealed, “Had some good reviews from it.”
Temptation crept up Michael’s neck at your alluding comment, the devil on his shoulder screaming at him to ask what you meant by such a sentence. He gave in. “What do you mean?”
You smirked, turning around to face him, “I’ll let you figure that out, sweetie. If not, ask your brother.”
Michael couldn’t hide the shy smile that curved up onto his lips, skin now flushed bright red at your sexual insinuation, “So cute.” You teased, reaching a hand around to pinch Michael’s rosy cheeks, giggling as his timidity.
Your casualness in regard to discussing such promiscuous acts and touching him so sweetly had his boyish crush on you flourishing — his hands trembling as they moved down to your lower back, now scarily close to your plump behind.
“Did it not hurt?” Michael questioned sincerely.
“Hm? Oh, no, not at all.” You spoke, “I like the pain.”
Oh, now that made him twitch — his bottom lip coming between his bottom teeth to steady himself at the way his cock throbbed achingly beneath his shorts, mind running away with itself at the thought of you enjoying pain.
“Hey, you two!” La Toya’s high-pitched voice filled both your ears, “Come in! We wanna play Chicken!”
You gasped, “Ooh, I love that game!” You stood quickly, missing the way your backside came in Michael’s full frontal vision, his eyes flashing open in shock, before turning around to face him, “Thanks, baby.” You whispered, squeezing his chin between your index finger and thumb, before strutting off towards the pool.
Michael couldn’t help himself but stare at the way your bikini bottoms had ridden up around your round ass, now curved between each cheek, displaying your plumpness to him perfectly.
“Lord.” He whispered to himself, rubbing his slicked up hands across his thighs, ridding himself of the lotion, before rising to his feet himself.
You slid into the pool gracefully — sighing as the cold temperature cooled your warm body, swimming towards the rest of group who formed a circle, awaiting the two of you. Michael climbed in after you, eyes locked on the way your tits bounced as you jumped across the length of the pool, barely being held down by the flimsy material of your bikini.
Michael watched from the edge of the pool as you let La Toya climb onto your shoulders, heart thumping as you laughed loudly while you attempted to keep her steady on top of you, before hopping towards Marlon who held Jermaine on his shoulders.
“You’re going down, baby.” Jermaine teased, eyeing his girl from his brother’s shoulders.
“Yeah, right, weakling. I know Toya’s gonna shove your sorry ass into that water, right, Toya?” You sassed back, missing the way Michael clenched his jaw at the causal flirtatious tone of both of your voices.
Michael watched from afar as you and his siblings played multiple rounds of Chicken — not caring to join in himself, just enjoying admiring you from across the pool, pretending as if his brother wasn’t there when he swam close to you or leant down to press a kiss to your cheek inbetween games.
“Hey, Mike! Your turn!”
Michael peered over at the group through his Aviators, who were all now staring at his relaxed frame.
“N-No, I’m good.”
“C’mon, Mikey, I’ll get on your shoulders and play Toya, how about that?”
The nickname you gave him hit him straight in the chest — heart now pounding in his throat. It’s almost like you knew, from the way you said it, that it had an effect on him.
“Okay.” Michael mumbled in defeat, moving through the water to join you.
“That’s my boy.”
Michael swallowed a groan that threatened to leave his lips — you were literally killing him with every word you spoke, his cock now painfully hard in his shorts.
Once he got to you, you slithered behind him, hopping from the edge of the pool and onto his shoulders, giggling as you settled against him. Michael swallowed as your thighs enclosed around his head, his shaking hands coming up to rest on your bare thighs — his head was reeling. He couldn’t help but let his mind fill him with the imagery that your clothed cunt was pressed up against the back of his neck — your clit practically rubbing against him as you got comfortable.
“Tighter, Michael. Don’t want me to fall now, do you?” You commanded, grabbing his hands and pressing them further into your skin, smiling as he tightened his grip, “That’s more like it, babe.”
God, he had to be a pervert the way his dick was jumping around in his briefs at every comment you made. You were turning him into a lustful man — something he strived to not be. But, he couldn’t help himself when you acted like that.
And you didn’t make it easy for him — not when you laced your manicured fingers through his ringlet curls, twirling them around one of your digits as you awaited for the game to begin. Michael let out a shaky breath he didn’t realise he was holding as Marlon called out ‘Aaand go!’
You squealed above him, your hands leaving the comfort of his hair to collide with La Toya’s — thrashing one another back and forth, giggling as you play-fought. Michael’s hands remained planted tightly on your wet thighs, doing exactly as you told him, trying to ignore the way the lower half of your body pressed further into the back of his head.
With a scream and a splash — you were pushed backwards, falling into the water, sliding off of Michael’s shoulders. Michael, ignoring La Toya’s squeal in delight at winning the childlike game, turned to face your submerged frame. Worry flashed in his heart at the possibility you may have hurt yourself falling so abruptly into the water — eyes flickering all over you underwater. His worry soon depleted at the sight of your elegant frame sliding out of the water, hands smoothing down your drenched hair, eyelashes fluttering the droplets away so beautifully his lips fell agape at the sight.
He couldn’t help but stare as you fully rose from the water, a playful smile creasing your lips — and your bikini strap fallen loosely down your arm.
“I—uh, um, your—“
Words failed Michael as he pointed sheepishly at the strap of your bikini, now teasingly revealing the curve of your right breast, falling dangerously down your chest to where one jump and your perky nipple would be free for him to see.
Another twitch!
You peered down at the astray strap, giggling out a breathy laugh as you shimmied it back up, before swimming close to him, “Thank you, sweetie.” You whispered, leaning up to press a soft, tantalising kiss to his damp cheek — only worsening the now painful boner he hid beneath the water.
You swam around him, unaware you’d left him speechless, congratulating La Toya for winning the game. Michael shut his eyes briefly — letting them flicker shut, gulping down his pride, as composed himself. He was surely a goner after this.
Sure you flirted with everyone, even making playful, promiscuous comments towards his sister’s, but you did it with him the most. Even more so than with your own boyfriend. He tried to pretend he didn’t notice it — but when you touched and teased him so often, it was becoming all he could focus on.
Michael rose out of the pool quickly, swift feet already dragging him halfway across the backyard before his name was called. He didn’t stop to turn around, just called out that he was ‘getting too hot’, continuing racing into the house before anyone could convince him otherwise, running up the stairs to the quiet of his bedroom.
His bedroom door slammed shut as he tripped over his own feet, scrambling to his bed, kicking off his shorts as he went. He couldn’t wait any longer — his cock was so hard from your relentless teasing that if he didn’t do something about it right now he was certain he was going to cry. He situated himself on his back, cock, now free from the confines of his damp swimming shorts, bobbed against the bare of his stomach, begging to be dealt with.
Michael’s eyes fluttered shut — hand hovering over his aching length, the fight between arousing relief or prolonged innocence battled in his head.
But, the sound of your sweet, loud laughter through his open bedroom window had him wrapping a firm first around the base.
A quiet gasp left his parted lips, eyes still squeezed shut as he stroked himself tantalisingly slowly — a whine bubbling in the back of his throat. His chest heaved, hips twitching as he bucked up into his own hand, pre-cum now drooling from the mauve tip of his stiffened cock — the relief he had been begging for all day now finally being washed over him.
The swift motions of his hand had his head falling back against the pillow — hips jerking upwards wildly, chasing his own hand as he fucked his palm like a mutt in heat, quiet little whines of pleasure filling the quiet room, along with a subtle yet equally as needy whimper of your name fell past his lips, only adding to the oozing drip of pre that fell from his swollen tip.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”
In his state of engrossed arousal, Michael hadn’t noticed your presence in the doorway to his bedroom — your half-naked frame leant against his doorframe, droplets of water from your soaking wet bikini, one that had him in the lustful trance in the first place, falling onto the plush of his carpet. He shot up from the mattress, now perched on the edge, both palms now shielding his obvious hard-on from you as if you hadn’t watched him stroke himself to you a mere few seconds ago.
“I—oh, God, I-I wasn’t, I—“
“You’re so sweet, Michael.”
Your words forced his furrowed eyebrows together in confusion — sweet? Sweet for fucking his hand while moaning his brother’s girlfriend’s name? Surely you must be mistaken?
You slithered into the room, shutting the door behind you and clicking the lock closed — a sound that had Michael’s heart thumping so loud in his head his ears rang. You turned to face him once more, a teasing smile plastered back onto your perfect face.
“What a treat you’ve blessed me with, baby.” You started, walking slowly towards him, your hair swaying behind, now fallen from your ponytail, “I just wanted to use your shower, honey, and I’m so glad I did.”
“I-I’m so sorry—“
“Hush, darling.” You whispered, finally approaching him with a finger to his lips, smirking at the way his trembling hands attempted to cover his bare cock between his legs. Your hand moved to cup his flushed cheek, “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s completely natural, sweet boy.”
“B-But, I-I said—“
“I know what you said, Michael.” Your voice as smooth as honey as your nimble fingers shuffled down his face to thumb his bottom lip, “I’m not angry at you, baby. I’m flattered, but also worried.”
“Worried?” He questioned, voice cracking as his frantic eyes never left your own, watching as you crouched in between his legs.
“Yeah, sweetie.” You comforted, your free hand now resting against the bare of his meaty thigh, smirk depending at the way he jumped, “Noticed how hard you were hours ago, baby. Must be so painful for my little Mikey, hm?”
“Oh, God.” Michael whined, embarrassment swarming his body, wanting nothing more than to cover his blushing face, but not wanting to reveal his slightly softening cock to you as you perched between him.
You giggled so sweetly despite the situation you were in, “Has it been painful, my baby?”
Michael attempted to ignore the way his cock began to harden underneath the grasp of his large hands at his referral as ‘your baby’. He gulped, breath hitching in his chest, before nodding meekly, face nestling into your palm innocently.
“Oh, angel.” You babied, your voice a sweet comfort to his embarrassed ears, now slightly hunched over as to make himself smaller in a situation where he felt so big and exposed, “Let me help you.”
Michael’s eyes shot open, “What?”
You smiled, lolling your head to the side, “I’ll make you feel so much better, sweet baby.”
“But, what about Jer—“
“Enough about him. He should be thankful he has a girl who wants to make his little brother so happy, hm?” You cut him off swiftly, your answers so reasonable yet so manipulative at the same time, going deaf upon his aroused ears, “What are big sister-in-laws for, huh, baby?”
Your smaller, more experienced hands enclosed around his own, tugging gently to move them away from imprisoning his cock — revelling in the way he whined bashfully, head turning the other way as his stiff dick sprung free. You sighed in admiration, eyes locked on the sheer length and girth of him — he was bigger than Jermaine despite the age and build difference in them, which only forced your eager mouth to salivate.
Your nimble hand wrapped around the base of him gently, sliding to your knees fully, as you gave him one languid stroke from shaft to tip. Michael whined so desperately it had you squeezing your thighs together at the sound of his arousal — a glob of pre-cum erupting from his flushed tip, drooling down your digits.
Michael couldn’t help but make the sweetest of noises as your plump lips, the one’s he’d been fantasising about since he met you, wrapped around the head of his cock — the feeling he’d once felt for you earlier, that he couldn’t place, crept up his spine.
Ah, so that was it.
Irrevocable, soul-destroying arousal.
He huffed, a whimper leaving his agape lips, now peering down at your frame beneath him — watching as you bobbed up and down his length, hand pumping him simultaneously at the base. Michael, never having had his dick sucked before, was still sincerely impressed with the way you managed to fit all of his cock down your greedy throat — moving your now free hand to squeeze his shaking thighs to provide him some comfort as your throat constricted around him, his tip punching the back of your throat so deliciously it had you gagging, and him gnawing on his bottom lip so hard he could taste blood to hold back his needy moans.
“T-This is s-so wrong.” He whimpered, hands bawled into fists at his sides, face contorted into one pure arousal.
You released off of him with a pop, hand continuing to pump him slowly, “But, you love it, don’t ya, angel?” You teased, pressed a gentle kiss to the head, revelling in the way he whined, “Just givin’ my sweet, baby brother-in-law a hand when he’s so het up ‘cuz of me.”
Michael groaned, eyebrow furrowing deeper into the crease of his forehead as you licked a stripe up the shaft of his cock, tracing the throbbing vein that adorned his length.
“Please.”
“Please, what, baby?”
“Please, I—I, I can’t—I need—Need more.”
You grinned, rising to your feet without a second thought at his submissive whines of need — reaching at your sides to pull at the strings of your bikini, letting the bottoms fall to the ground, revealing your perfect, slick pussy to his eager eyes.
A gentle yet commanding hand met his thumping chest, pushing him backwards onto the bed, letting his back hit the mattress before crawling up his slim frame. Michael’s exposed cock twitched and thrashed against his abdomen wildly as he watched you intently, awaiting your next move.
His breath caught in his throat as you straddled his hips, your bare pussy lips engulfed the girth of his hot cock — a strained squeak hitching in his mouth at the feeling of your warm sex against him.
“Have you done this before, Michael?” You questioned, your voice dropping an octave, now a sexy, teasing tone that had him suppressing another whimper, “Made love to a woman?”
Michael shook his head quickly, saliva moving slickly down his throat, ogling at the way you now reached behind your back, tugging the strings of your bikini top down — letting the flimsy material fall from your chest, exposing your perky tits to his enthusiastic eyes.
“Good.” You whispered, letting your hips move voluntarily against his own, the sleek of your cunt gliding against his manhood, meek whimpers leaving both of your lips, “I knew you were special, baby — hadn’t been ruined yet.”
Michael whimpered as you continued to rock back and forth against him, your stark naked body moving on him with experienced precision that had his head reeling — admiring the way you let your hands crawl up your body, now adorning glorious tan-lines, to cup your bouncing tits or rake through your hair. You were truly an angel that fell from heaven to bless him with your beauty.
“Touch me, Michael.” You coaxed, grasping his hands in your own to grab a handful of your pudgy hips, “Like I taught you earlier, remember? Don’t be afraid to hold me, sweet boy.” You leant down, breast pressed against his bare chest, nipples rolling against him, lips brushing against the shell of his ear, “I want to feel you everywhere.”
“Oh, Lord, please.”
Michael cursed the neediness in his voice as he tightened his grip on your hips, not enough to hurt you, but enough to make you aware of his burning desire to rid himself of the ache in his cock, now the hardest it’s ever been in his life.
“Shh, I got you, baby, it’s okay — I’ll make it all better.”
Your reassuring tone had Michael nodding hysterically — restless to feel better like you promised him so beautifully. Your hips lifted from his own, shushing him as he whined at the loss of touch. A tentative hand grasped the base of him once more, sliding the warm, oozing head between your slippery folds — sighing in content as he nudged your clit. You slicked him up with the essence of your lust — letting it drop down the length of him before lining him up to your willing entrance.
“Ready, baby?”
Michael couldn’t have nodded faster.
“Use your words, Michael. Need to hear my baby say how badly he wants to feel my pussy.”
“Please, god, please, baby, please — need it, need to—Ah!” Michael’s eyes rolled to the back of his head instantly with a gasp at the feeling of your clenching cunt wrapped around his virgin cock, only widening the smirk that clad your face.
You hummed in delight as you sank further and further down him — letting his thick cock stretch you open inch by inch, the burn you craved each time you fucked his brother now hitting you full force, the length you desired from a man now ramming you to the brim.
“So big, Mikey.” You sighed, a hand pressing against his chest to steady yourself, “So much bigger than Jer.”
“My goodness, baby, y-you’re killin’ me.” Michael admitted, catching his breath, doe eyes meeting your own, “Wanted this for so long.”
A breath of flattery left your lips as you rose all the way to the tip of his cock, and back down again, slamming your hips down onto his own, “You’re such a sweet boy, darling. My favourite brother in the whole family.”
Michael couldn’t contain the whines and groans that left him, hands now resting in the curve of your waist, following every calculated movement of your body as you bounced on his cock.
“Kiss.” Michael pleaded, eyes brimming with tears at the sheer volume of pleasuring stimulation he was experiencing, “Kiss me, please.”
Your heart, now fogged with blinding lust, ached at the innocence of him — even despite having the girl he was in love with riding his dick before him, he was still only desperate for a kiss.
You leant down, hand lacing into his curls once more, connecting your lips in a frantic, messy kiss, swallowing every noise that left his dirty throat. Michael’s tongue forced its way into your mouth — the hot muscle tangling with your own in a feverish dance that had your clit twitching against the pubic bone you ground it down onto. You broke away from the kiss to move down his face — the corner of his mouth, cheek, jawline, neck. And once you got there, you wasted no time in licking at the soft skin, basking in the salty taste of sweat on his sun-kissed flesh.
“Could eat you up all day, baby.” You whispered, sucking the sweet spot beneath his earlobe that had his hips bucking up into you, tip ramming against your cervix — hands tightening at your sides.
Sitting back up, not before pressing another kiss to Michael’s lips, you admired the sight beneath you — his puppy dog eyes clouded with lust, petering up at you in such admiration it had your heart bursting, his God-like body carved so perfectly you couldn’t help but rub your fingertips over each ridge of his abs, glistening in the sweat as the humid air in the bedroom increased, and his frizzed up curls now spread across the bed-sheets messily underneath him.
He looked so perfectly destroyable.
“Oh, God — I-I’m gonna—soon.”
Your hips ground down on him once more, continuing to rise and fall back down onto him — the slick of your pussy coating his cock in a sheen, a white, frothy ring of your juices forming at the base. As well as letting sweet, delicious moans of pleasure fall past your rosebud lips, you rolled your aching nub against the dense of his pubic bone — hitting his ears in such a way that had him throbbing inside you.
“Oh, Michael.”
The sound of his name leaving your lips, a scenario he was once imagining while he fucked his hand before you caught him in the act, had him moaning so loud, your hand came up to cover his ajar mouth.
“Gotta keep quiet, baby, or else I’ll have to stop,” You whispered, leaning down to lock eyes with the obedient boy beneath you, “Keep that mouth busy.”
Michael, set on pleasuring you in a way he was still figuring out, latched his mouth to the one thing he’d had his eye on since you arrived at his house — your tits. His puckered lips wrapped around your erect nipple — sucking sensually, soft sighs of content vibrating around the nub. Your back arched against him, tits now shoved into his face, not that he minded, his free hand from your waist, now cupping the lonely breast, fingers rolling the bud between his fingers.
Your erotic noises hit his ears in a way that had him buzzing with confidence — your eyes fixating on the way his tongue left your poised nipple to trace the newly forced tan-line around your breast.
“Fuck, Michael.” You gasped, jaw falling slack as your hips continued to grind against the rigid bone, stimulating your pulsating clitoris while Michael’s hands were busy, “‘Gonna fuckin’ cum on your cock, baby.”
“Mm, please,” Michael whined, his lips pulling from your tit, saliva connecting his lips to your swollen nipple in an erotic scene, “Wanna cum so bad, mama.”
Your head thrust back as you moaned — now succumbing to the pleasure that coursed through your veins, any ounce of dominance you once had now spilling away at the feeling of his tongue lapping at your nipple.
Michael, despite feeling guilty for not bringing the lady there before him, climaxed first — ropes and ropes of his fertile seed flooding your womb, whines only getting louder around the comfort of your breast, hands gripping around your waist tighter at the feeling of your cunt quivering around him.
“I love you, I love you, I love yo—Aah!” Was the only words that left Michael’s lips once he popped off your tit, a blush creeping up onto your cheeks at his admission.
You soon followed — one more roll of your clit against him and a suck against your breast had you orgasming around him so beautifully it left Michael speechless despite his own climax continuing. You looked so pretty like this — back arched, eyes rolled to the back of your head, cunt milking him for all he had to give, gorgeous little moans falling past your plump lips, as well as an ‘I love you too, Mikey’ that had him whining bashfully for the last time.
He felt as though any ounce of self-respect and maturity he had left in his body that threatened to fight his devotion and infatuation towards you had just been diminished to dust at the sight of you cumming around him.
You hummed in delight, flopping forward to lay tiredly on his chest — a hand tracing the definition of his peck, his cock still flush inside you, now softening, “Y’did such a good job, baby.” You whispered, tracing love hearts into his warm skin, “Do you feel better now?”
Despite the feeling of guilt that threatened to creep up his spine at the reminding thought that you still belonged to his brother, he pushed it to the back of his hazy mind, deciding the only acceptable and truthful answer was,
I have a fanfic request tho. So imagine reader lets Michael “practice” on how to go down on a girl and one thing leads to another…
Idk how to write it out but I basically just want a smut 😭😭 anyways thank you!!
t/w: smut, 18+ mdni, oral (f! receiving), fingering, p in v, creampie, squirting, inexperienced michael (between off the wall/thriller era) i fear i always have to add plot to the p!rn sorry
statement on ai
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You kept catching him looking at you.
Michael’s eyes would flick away quickly, acting like nothing was amiss. Which, technically, nothing was. The two of you were sitting on the floor leaning against his bed while watching a movie, a typical Sunday night in the Jackson household when things got calm for a rare moment.
You had thought he sounded a little off when he had called you to come over, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what.
Nervous didn’t really feel like the right word. Perhaps because you couldn’t think of a single reason why he would be. That very small and delusional voice in the back of your head whispered he was going to confess his feelings for you— but that would be insane.
The two of you had been friends for a while now after getting introduced to each other by a few mutual people and you had clicked.
It was easy, being around him. He probably had the same sentiments considering he still called you to hang out whenever he got a moment of down time.
When you caught him looking at you again, you decided to bite the bullet and nudge his knee with yours.
“You okay?”
“What? Yeah, fine.” He rushed. A little too quickly, in your opinion.
Your eyes narrowed. “Michael.”
His eyes slated to look at you for a moment, attempting to keep up the facade, but something in your expression made him cave.
With a sigh, he lowered the volume on the movie and turned toward you, suddenly beat red in the face and your mind was running a million miles an hour.
“I have a question,” he slowly started. Wringing his hands in his lap and suddenly not looking at you at all even though earlier he couldn’t seem to help himself.
Your eyes flicked over him, trying to get a read on what could possibly be going on but you came up blank. “Okay.”
“I…” Michael blew some air out of his mouth and suddenly laughed while looking at the ceiling. “God, this is crazy. Okay, so I, I uh… I need help with something.”
Your brows furrowed. “Okay?”
“It’s complicated and probably crossing some sort of line… and it’s also completely okay if you say no. I just want you to know first that this is in no way me trying to take advantage or trying to ruin anything. And I want you to know that I’m asking because I trust you and feel safe with you and I feel like you also feel the same way. I mean, I hope you do.” You could tell he just wanted to spit it out but looked as though he would vomit if he tried to before he was ready.
Leaning over to grab his hands, half in comfort and half to get him to stop twisting his fingers around, you gave his hands a supportive squeeze. “I do. And whatever you need help with, just know there is no judgement.”
He raised a brow at you, unsure. “None?”
“None whatsoever.”
Michael didn’t seem convinced so you held up your hand, “pinky promise.”
That got him to laugh a little bit, just a small amount of tension easing out of his shoulders as he locked pinkies with you to seal the deal.
He then let out a slow breath, eyes dancing back up to the ceiling as if in a silent prayer before he looked back at you. When his teeth sunk into his bottom lip for a moment you couldn’t help but look.
“I need to know how to go down a girl.”
You blinked.
“Pardon?”
He then covered his face with his hands, clearly embarrassed. “I knew I shouldn't have—“
“No, no, it’s just I wasn’t… I don’t know what I was expecting.” You pulled his hands from his face, your own cheeks their own deep shade of red. “It’s just, I mean— why me? What do you need to know? Do you want a bullet point list or a diagram—“
“I tried all that.”
“On a girl?” It slipped out before you thought better of it. Your envious curiosity being your downfall. You had absolutely no desire to hear about other girls he might’ve been with.
“No, the lists and diagrams, they just didn’t seem informative enough.” He said it slowly and wasn’t looking at you again.
It took an embarrassingly long moment for you to realize to what scale he was asking you to help him.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
You hummed, leaning back on your palms as your mind and heart tried to get each other to calm down. “I see.”
Seconds ticked by. All you could hear was your heartbeat and Michael started going a little blurry at the edges of your vision as flashes of dreams you’ve had flicked through your mind.
Dreams one definitely should not have about their friend.
“So?”
You crossed your legs, wishing for those things in your head to go away but then panic started bubbling up in your chest. “I mean… yes? Sure, but do you mean now?”
“No no no, there’s not really a timeline. Whenever you’re ready and comfortable. Are you positive this is okay?”
More than okay, actually. “Of course, just… helping a friend out.”
He laughed as he looked down, “right.”
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Well, fuck.
As soon as he shut the car door for you and it disappeared down the driveway, he felt like he could finally breathe again.
He felt like he had been on the brink of passing out the last two hours.
In all honesty, he was surprised he had even gotten the words out.
The idea had popped into his head a while ago, something he was ashamed but also intrigued by. He just heard things, stuff around him being discussed that piqued his interest. And then someone would ask him about his experience and he’d draw up a blank.
Even though he’s only in his twenties and lived a life worth a thousand lifetimes— he still fell short on some experiences. Mostly interpersonal or intimate.
There was also that little chirp in his head that said gaining more experience in that area would improve his song writing.
Always a working man, apparently.
And like Michael said, he had tried other avenues. Buying sex education books, published articles, magazines… but it was all too structured. Inorganic. Academic and cold.
He wanted more of a human touch, but given who he was it couldn’t just be anyone. And late one night, staring up at the ceiling as moonlight danced across his room, he thought of you.
He immediately felt ashamed about it. You were his friend, he shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. Although yes, he has admittedly found you attractive, he said he’d never go there.
But once his mind found a little footing on an idea, he couldn’t drop it.
Then the dreams started and that became a whole other hell.
⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹
Six days had passed.
Six days of feeling like you weren’t able to breathe.
You didn’t want to admit the amount of money you dropped on getting ready for this.
For Michael Jackson to eat you out.
God, you were going to faint.
You’d been waxed, showered, body oils, your nails done, a new pair of lace panties, the whole package really. Part of you felt like it was all over kill but it was Michael fucking Jackson.
You wanted it, you, to be perfect.
And although he was the biggest star in the world, you didn’t want him to feel intimidated. Intimacy was a new field entirely and he seemed anxious enough asking you.
So you stuck with an outfit that was simple but still a little spiced up. A cute skirt and a nice top that made the girls look nice. Your hair was done up in a messy sort of up do— he had complimented it when it was like this a few weeks ago.
And to top it all off a pair of heels.
He had called you the day before, telling you to knock on the door of the studio when you got there, not wanting his family to come snooping.
So you stilled your breath, heels clicking on the ground as you neared the door.
“I can do this.”
And you knocked.
Mere heartbeats passed before you heard the lock click and the door opened.
You smiled, trying not to come off as shy as you felt when your eyes met his.
“Hi, Michael.”
He seemed slightly taken off guard, clearing his throat after a moment. “Hey.”
You felt like you were in high school all over again.
“So, where are we doing this?” You cringed at your wording.
“Right.” He was blushing again as he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. “Follow me.”
Michael sneaking you through his house provided enough of an entertaining distraction to let you relax a bit. You were just helping him out. There were no stakes. No strings. Even if you wanted there to be.
The door to his room shut softly behind him and you watched in amusement as he slowly and quietly turned the lock.
“Hopefully it’s late enough so no one will bother us.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, maybe just put on some music.”
“Right, good idea.”
He looked adorable as his eyes briefly flicked to yours before looking away as he began to shuffle though his records.
“You look beautiful, by the way.”
You were going to melt through the floor. “Thank you.”
⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹
He watched you, quite intently, as you sat on the edge of his bed. Back straight and hands placed neatly in your lap.
You looked like an angel.
Your eyes were on his before flicking down briefly, messing with a bracelet you had on. “So, what do you already know? Just so I have an idea.”
He felt heat pool into his cheeks, briefly glancing at the ceiling before clearing his throat. He felt more nervous now than he did performing in front of thousands of people.
“Basics, I suppose. With oral sex for women, I’m mainly supposed to focus on the… the uh, y’know.” God, he felt aware of all of his bones. If he couldn’t even say it, how was he supposed to do it. To you.
You smiled at him, though not in any teasing way to make him retreat. “It’s funny, with stuff like this. Doing it is usually less intimidating than talking about it.”
Michael nodded, rubbing at the nape of his neck as he rolled a question around in his mind. One he couldn’t help but be curious about while also dreading to hear your answer.
But he couldn’t help it.
“Have you done this before?”
You blinked at him.
“You don’t have to answer that, I was just curious—“
“A few times. I mean, I wasn’t showing someone how to do it, like now. And they were alright, it helped me find out what I like, which is what I’ll tell you.”
Michael nodded. A little annoyed that other people had had the privilege but he decided not to dwell on the fact for now or come to terms for what that meant for him.
Your nails tapped a rhythm into your leg. “So, whenever you’re ready—“
“Can we play a game first? Just to, y’know, calm the nerves?”
Twenty minutes later the two of you were tangled up on a Twister mat. Laughing as one had to stretch uncomfortably and almost fall over.
The momentary distraction did help ease his nerves but it definitely made something else more apparent.
Your skirt was incredibly short.
You barely had to bend over for him to start seeing the subtle curve of your ass cheek meet your thigh. That sight alone was inticing… and then he saw the lace of your underwear.
Fuck me, was a statement that had been running through his mind. He tried not to look, really he did. But the thin lace was right there and not leaving much to the imagination, and then he’d remember what exactly you were here for.
Michael knew his composure was steadily unraveling and when you bent over again for your turn he cleared his throat.
“I think I’m ready.”
You stood up, brows raised slightly in surprise at his sudden statement, rouge bleeding into your cheeks.
“Okay, come here.”
And then your fingers laced with his as you walked back to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it and he was about to join you but you stopped him with your fingers hooked into his belt loops.
He looked down at you, that sight alone— that low voice in the back of his head wondering how lovely you’d look with his cock in your mouth right now…
What had gotten into him?
“Kneel.”
One word. That’s all it took, and he did as told.
Lowering to his knees in front of you, eyes on yours because he suddenly discovered he couldn’t— didn’t want to look anywhere else.
You held his gaze and you took his hands, bringing them to your knees. He got the hint, gently spreading them wider so he could slot between them easily.
Then you were laying down, his own eyes flicking lower and he could see the lace.
Really, your skirt was a pathetic excuse for a piece of sufficient clothing. Not that he minded given the circumstances.
Then his hands were dancing up, fingers dragging along your thighs and watching as goosebumps followed in the wake of his touch.
He was pushing your skirt up around your waist and when he finally got to see your underwear entirely he felt his heart skip a beat.
The bow at the top was adorable.
And you were right there… legs spread and only a thin piece of cloth hiding you away.
“Should I—“ he cleared his throat, given the words came out more hoarse than he intended. “Should I take these off?” His fingers looped on the string but you grabbed his wrist.
“Not yet.” Then you dragged his hand over, right above you and he could feel the heat rolling off you in waves. “The build up is just as important.”
He nodded, taking mental notes while he was still able to focus.
“Like you said, main point to focus on is here.”
His index and middle finger gently pressed down and he saw the muscles in your thighs twitch.
Noted.
Your breath came out a little heavier. “And if you slide down, just there, that’s the entrance. You can tease that through the lace as well.”
His fingers slid down to where you said, feeling the fabric cave in a little bit but that’s not what made him suck in a breath.
You were wet.
The lace already damp with your arousal, for him, and Michael felt the room start to tip slightly. His self restraint starting to lose its balance.
“You can choose to do it with your hands, but given what you— oh.”
He wasn’t thinking straight, or at all, lowering himself with little hesitation and his mouth latched onto your clit through your underwear.
A sound started to slip past your lips but you bit it back when he applied a rolling pressure with his tongue.
He wanted to hear it again.
His ears were ringing but he followed your instructions. Each one coming out in a more labored breath. His hands gripping onto the soft flesh of your thighs as he worked, focused, intent on hearing the way you tried to bite back whimpers.
And then he slid down, tongue teasing the entrance of your pussy as his nose brushed against your clit and you moaned.
It felt like he was hearing the trumpets of heaven and you tasted clean. Erotic. He didn’t know how else to describe it, but you were so fucking wet. Both from your own arousal and his saliva, that the lace was sticking to you like a second skin and he could almost see you. Almost.
And finally finally you told him to move your underwear to the side and when his eyes finally landed on your pussy he groaned before diving back in. Tongue tracing from your clit to your to your cunt and you tasted better than anything he had ever imagined.
Your back arched off the bed, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to hold back a shout.
“I wanna hear you,” he muttered, feeling hazy as his tongue flattened over your clit and his cock was so hard that it hurt.
You cried out, trying to muffle the sound with your hand and he almost missed the way you said his name.
He wanted to hear his name like that from your mouth for the rest of his life.
As if he were starving, his fingers dug into your thighs as he dragged his tongue down and started to fuck you with his tongue and lips and teeth. Being driven even further towards the brink of insanity every time you said more or right there.
Your hands twined into his hair, hips rolling up to meet his mouth and he was determined to make you come. To do it just right.
The thought of you making a mess all over his mouth made his cock twitch in his pants and he was half worried he’d finish right then and there like he was a teenager.
His eyes then flicked up, eyes catching yours and then you flat out moaned his name, the sound coming from your soul it seemed and he felt something in him snap.
Michael didn’t even realize what he was doing, two fingers dragging over your pussy before they slid inside, curving them to your body and you were so soft and fucking warm.
Then his fingers pressed against something textured and you would’ve flown off the bed if he hadn’t secured an arm over your hips.
The sounds in the room dancing just below the volume of the music were lewd. Sinful. Your body being contorted in pleasure as you grinded against his face.
All he could sense was you.
Then your muscles tensed, your head rolling back and God the way his name dripped off your tongue.
“Michael, I’m— I’m…”
And then you came, your pussy tightening in a pulse around his fingers and he could feel your heartbeat on his tongue.
He was lost. Completely.
Not being able to stop himself even as your legs tightened around his head. Not even as you cried it’s too much.
He wanted more like a man who had stumbled across paradise after wandering in the desert for too long.
Just too fucking thirsty.
“Michael.”
Then his lips and chin were suddenly very, very wet.
He blinked as he pulled back, meeting your wide eyes. Watching as your gaze flicked down the wetness covering the lower half of his face and you sucked in a breath.
His mind was short circuiting.
He’d read about when a woman does that, though not super often and Michael hadn’t even let it occur to mind that he could make someone do that.
Make you do that.
“Oh my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t even know I could—“
He felt like his common sense had taken a seat in the back of his mind because next thing he knew he was pushing you back onto the bed, crawling over you and lips crashing into yours. Hips rolling with a mind of their own and that first sensation of warmth and pressure against his cock even through his slacks made him shiver.
It was messy and wonderful. Teeth hitting against each other and tongues sliding in their own dance.
Your hands fumbled with his zipper and then—
“Fuck,” Michael’s face fell into the crook of your neck when he felt your hand wrap around him.
Your hand dragged up along the shaft, thumb swiping against his tip that had been leaking pre-come for who knew how long and he shuddered against you, hips seeking out more as he thrusted into your hand.
He was in such a lust induced haze he felt like the world wasn’t even real anymore. Just you and him and the edge heaven at the tips of his fingers.
It wasn’t enough. Not nearly.
Michael was desperate. His hips rolling in search of more and he accidentally slid the tip of his cock right up along your pussy. Gathering wetness and you were just so fucking warm— he wasn’t thinking. Honestly, he wasn’t.
His mouth met yours again and then his hips lowered, cock sliding in instead of up and he felt whatever willpower he had break.
You felt so fucking good and then you moaned and before the next breath he was in all the way to tne hilt.
His heavy lidded eyes met your own and when he slowly dragged out, watching in fascination as your pupils expanded into pools of ink with your mouth dropped open… who was he to put a stop to this?
So he thrusted back in. Back out. Slow and deliberate and so fucking wonderful.
“You feel like heaven,” his words came out broken, his own moan fracturing his speech.
His name left your lips in a cry, your legs wrapped around his hips and deeper he went. He wanted to go deeper in ways that weren’t physically possible and his eyes flicked down. Seeing the way your pussy took him so well and he didn’t even feel human right now.
Michael’s thrust became harder and his pace quickened into something more erratic and wild, mouth on yours, sloppy and wet and when he felt you tighten around him as you came again he tipped right over the edge with you.
Seeing stars behind his eyes as he came and he couldn’t stop. Something in his soul begging him to keep going. Making sure he got all of it inside of you, not a drop wasted because it really would’ve been such a fucking waste.
After what felt like a daydream finally concluding, Michael collapsed on top of you. Breathing heavy and his heartbeat so loud he felt like he was underwater.
Your arms were still wrapped around him as he settled between your thighs and against your chest, trying to catch your breath.
Your bodies were covered in sweat that made the air a bit cool against the skin and when he shivered, both from the temperature and his body coming down from the shock of pleasure, did it dawn on Michael of what exactly he just did.
God forgive me.
Slowly, he raised himself up on his arms, not being able to help himself as he watched his cock pull out, both of your releases covering him and seeping out of you. It was probably the hottest thing he’d ever seen but it wasn’t enough to overshadow the reality of what he’d just done.
“I didn’t mean to—“
“Michael, that was…” you blinked up at the ceiling. Looking fucked out and like an angel in his bed sheets. “Wow.”
He blushed, despite what he just did to you. Michael didn’t regret it, that he was sure of. In fact, he knew he wanted to do it again.
“I think I still need some more practice.” He muttered, leaning down to catch your lips with his and you hummed.
“Agreed. Same time next Sunday?”
He shook his head as he pulled back, teeth catching onto your bottom lip. “I was thinking tomorrow.”
submissive thriller mj has me SICKKKKKK him looking up at you when ur riding him with his big doe eyes saying “am i doing a good job mama?” such a pretty young thing getit hahahaha ..ngnnggg
suby!mike x softdom!fem!reader who just can't handle himself when you're riding him .ᐟ
youre concentrated on ridding, lifting your hips up and down on michaels impressive length, whilst all he can do is blubber and whine!
"p–please! mama, youre making me feel—so good!–" he grunts pathetically under you. his large hands trying to find purchase on your plush thighs.
your brows furrow as your legs strain, you grip tightly onto michael's shoulders as your rapid humping falters. "mikey, baby—help mama out." you meet his wide eyes as he quickly nods, desperate to pleasure you—aswell as himself.
he braces himself under you, gripping tightly onto the silky skin of your waist, before bucking into you.
you moan softly above him, which cause michael's hips to snap upwards quickly, his lustrous instincts puppeteering his body.
moans and whines fill the empty room, along with quick shlick–shlick–shlick.
poor baby can't help the tears that bubble in his waterline, your pussy just feels so good squeezing his leaky cock!
he glances up at you, watching your face contort with wanton moans as your hips meet his over, and over. his shaking hand wanders up to the swell of your breast, squeezing tightly. this makes your own hand leave his shoulder, overlapping his on your breast.
this causes another moan to tumble from your pouted lips, you glance down to the man. eyes hazy.
"am I doing a good job, mama?" he whimpers pathetically, bucking his cock in to your tight hole quicker.
"s–so good mikey! so good for mama!"
he grunted below you, arms moving around your waist to hug you too him. giving you more leverage to bounce, the tip of his cock ramming repeatedly into the spongey spot inside you, had your thighs buzzing.
"mama! please—oh god, I'm gonna cum!" he cried out helplessly beneath you.
you raise and drop quicker, slotting him in and out, in and out. your own finish beginning to wash over you, euphoric waves lapping at your senses.
michael vices his grip on your hips, faltering your movements as he burries himself in you.
you feel the warm spurts of his release paint your gummy walls, as he cries out.
you pull back enough to gaze down at him, a second later. he looked pathetic, watery eyes, pouty lips, face flushed burgundy.
"you did so well for me, baby."
a/n: shorter blurb, but i wanted to get something out today!! also not proof read so apologies!! thank you for all the love on 'back of your cadillac'! more works in the making!!
if you'd like to see anything specific, don't be shy, make a request!! ♡
warnings: 18+, nasty nasty nasty, blowjob, choking, degradation, manipulation, and more
“swallow m’ whole,” michael groans, pushing your head down further on his cock. “gonna cum down that pretty throat.” his legs spreading more so he could push your head down harder.
your hands lay on his thighs, trying to keep yourself up but oh no mikey doesn’t like that. “stop tryn’ get up.” he groans, slamming your head back down to the base of his cock. “not done til’ i say.”
he throws his head back as you choke on his dick, whimpering everytime you gag on him. he grabs a handful of your hair, pulling you off of him just so he can take a look at your ruined face.
his dick twitching and oozing above you, “spit on it, mama” you prop yourself up using his thighs, and slowly let the spit fall onto his swollen tip. he whimpers and his grip on your hair tightens.
“mm look at y’” he mocks, “such a nasty girl f’ my cock” he looks down at you, his brown eyes full of lust. you look down, but not before a hand meets your chin and forces you to look up to him.
“say it.” he demands, “s-say what?” your voice comes out soft a complete contrast from his. “tell me how bad y’ want mikey’s dick.” your chin hurting from his grip.
“s-so bad-” you start, bringing your mouth back to his pulsing dick. “p-please, mikey.” your tongue slides up and down his cock, groans and curses leaving his mouth.
"come on, baby," michael purrs, his voice low and commanding. "use that pretty little mouth of yours to worship my dick like you should." he pushes against your mouth, trying to thrust deeper inside.
his breath comes out in short, sharp pants as he fucks your mouth. his grip on your hair tightens, pulling you closer as he thrusts deeper. you can feel the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat with each movement.
"look up at me while you suck it," he commands. you obey, tilting your head back as you continue to bob your head on his length. he groans when he sees the tears streaming down your face and the spit dripping from your lips.
his dick hits the back of your throat over and over, making you choke and gag around him. spit and precum mix together, dripping down your chin and onto your tits.
michael groans deeply as your tongue works over his dripping slit, before he pushes you head back down to take more of him, "yeah, take it deeper," he mutters, watching your eyes water as you choke around him. "look at you, so good f’ me.”
with one hard thrust, he buries himself balls deep in your throat and comes hard, pumping hot ropes of cum directly down your throat. he holds your head in place, forcing you to swallow every last drop as he groans, “atta girl…”
note: okay i tried my best blowjobs are my weakness i hope u guys enjoy this my inner freak came out when i was writing this , manipulative michael>>>>>> anyways i hope u guys enjoy <3
As Michael Jackson’s assistant, you learn pretty quickly he doesn’t respond very lightly to mistakes in your job performance. The way he punishes you, you can’t promise there won’t be any more in the near future.
contains: mature!michael, smut (minors dni), michael being mean, edging, teasing, fingering, fingers in mouth, you sucking his rings, forced orgasm requests are open :3
You didn’t know the definition of sleep anymore the second you were hired to work as Michael Jackson’s assistant. Being able to land a job where you can say to people that you work for one of the biggest, universally loved pop-stars known to man, the amount of pressure you put on yourself to have everything be perfect for Michael started to have you begin to slip.
With how busy Michael’s life is, and a image he couldn’t have it be teared, he told you from the very beginning how consequences would be placed for any hiccups in your tasks that most of the time, if not all the time, affected him.
And he wasn’t bluffing.
Your back was pressed up against his chest, trying your hardest to not piss him off from all the squirming you’re doing right on his lap. This wasn’t the first time that you found yourself like this, seated on his thigh with a large hand between your thighs, pulling the most humiliating noises you attempt to bite your tongue on.
Your pants weren’t even fully disregarded, only the button popped off with the zipper down to give Michael enough room to easily slide his hand in past your panties, palming your cunt with enough pressure to make you ache for more. Sharp pulse of arousal shoots through you, trying to shift your focus instead on the paperwork he’s going through in front of him to distract the way your body is screaming to move your hips forward, to chase what he’s refusing to give you.
A slow, steady drag forward of his fingers were applied, then dragged back up, just as devastatingly slow. The coolness of his rings don’t miss your clit, nudging by for a torturous split second. Your bottom lip is sore from your teeth digging in to suppress the whimpers, but then he does it again, another drag of his fingers, painfully slower than the last.
You make the tiniest bit of noise, and you swore you heard a breathy chuckle leave his nose, yet he doesn’t say anything and continue his work splayed across on the desk.
You want to say something, anything, but your brain is static, blank, useless. What could you even say? An apology that never works in your favor?
He doesn’t want to hear your sorries on mixing up two different interviews, having him miss one completely because your memory failed you and told him it wouldn’t be until next week. He doesn’t want to hear your sorries on how you missed making a mandatory call to help advance his upcoming show, having talks of venue and flight arrangements never discussed.
All he wants to hear is how your mind is spiraling from his faint touches, not giving what you’re fighting to ask for, breath coming in short, shallow bursts.
Then, your body instinctively shifts towards his hand. You don’t mean to do it, but he stops his movements entirely, feeling the vibration of his chest against your back when he speaks.
“Don’t.” He scolds close to your ear, the smallest graze of his lips against the shell of it that sends shivers down your spine.
You forced yourself to find your voice, tone shaking with need. “Please, Mr. Jackson, I’m terribly sorry for what happened this past week, I—“ You couldn’t properly finish your sentence, your mind beginning to get dizzy from the heat of his palm against your soaked cunt.
He barely spares you a glance, eyes never leaving the documents he’s working on, yet he still humors you. “Are you?”
“Yes! Yes, I am!” You said almost immediately, having him hear what he wants so he can start back up the strokes of his fingers that made the heat curl deep in your core.
“How sorry are you?”
You felt the very first push of his fingertip against your entrance, just enough to make your body react, muscles tightening in anticipation. Your anger clashes with the barely there pleasure you are receiving, how calmly he focuses on his work like he doesn’t have a trembling assistant on his lap, willing to do anything for a fraction more of his burning touch.
“So, so so sorry…!” Your voice is downright pathetic, but you couldn’t find yourself to care. The tip of his finger keeps easing in, then out, working you up to crave the fullness of his digits he keeps denying.
“So sorry that you’ll take whatever I give you, and won’t dare to whine about it?”
You didn’t know how long he would keep this up, his fingertip sinking in, tricking your walls into thinking he’ll go further each push, but he eases his fingertip back out each time. The thought of him continuing this, attention not even on the way you writhe and whimper, working at his desk like you’re not even there, it couldn’t have you lasting another minute.
And so, you do whine.
You shake your head, barely registering the words you manage to form after a ragged, uneven exhale. “No, no no no, I can’t, I—“
“No?” You hear him hum, voice rich and indulgent. For the first time in ten, agonizing long minutes, he at last has his eyes on you. Yet now, you can’t even bring yours to meet. You let a strand of hair cover half your face, hiding from the way his eyes challenge you to keep talking.
“You think you don’t deserve this? Is that it?” His tone is anything but kind, watching every breath you shudder. You don’t answer, you couldn’t, but you’re guilty for thinking exactly that. You tried your best, you tried being his good little assistant, but he runs a strict program that tests every ounce of your strength. Although at times it seems like Michael is purposefully trying to seek out flaws in your tasks that he normally never cared much about until now, scouting for opportunities to fall easy on his lap to have you be punished, to be turned into a babbling, hot mess with cries of forgiveness.
You feel his soft smirk etching into the next words he speak, pushing his chest more into your back to have you lean forward slightly. “Okay then, I’ll give you what you think you deserve.”
Your body reacted faster than your mind did, body clamping down instinctively at the begrudging push of two fingers in at once, deeper than he’s ever gone since this started. Your hands bunch up the fabric of his jeans, feeling the way your walls clench helplessly, involuntary.
Your mouth opens for a cry, but Michael was faster. He uses his other hand to shove his fingers past your lips, cold rings pressing down firmly on your tongue that chokes up your noises.
His fingers pump deep, quick, relentless. No room for slow, to adjust, only a devastating controlled pace. You feel the rings on those two digits drag along every sensitive inch, somehow adding onto the already overwhelming pleasure flowing through your body.
It’s too much. It happened all too fast for you. The way he’s working you open, to take what he’s giving you, to claim every inch inside. You given yourself enough breath to string out a breathless plea, tongue moving as best as it can under the pads of his fingers still pressed on top.
“Please, wait, oh!” Your muffled voice fails you at the end, moaning at the beautiful curl of his fingers, hitting the spot that brings you into another realm of sensation.
“You don’t want me to wait.” He says so surely, and you hate how he’s right. How well he so soon knows your body, aware of what each twitch and squirm means.
The thrusts get sharper, unrelenting, shifting his wrist to move deeper. Your body jerks at a perfect stroke he gives you, to which he repeats over and over again.
You feel the inevitable coming, the way your thighs clamp tighter around his hand a giveaway. He doesn’t let you slip away from it, fingers working faster, sharper.
After another harder drive of his fingers to that sweet spot, your orgasm crashes into you, dragging you into a helpless cry. He feels your cunt pulse around his fingers, every spasm, basking in your ruin.
A string of saliva follows his fingers as he pulls them out of your mouth, snapping as it finds a new spot on your hips. The fingers inside you start to slowly pull out, the emptiness hitting you hard as you mewl.
Michael tsk’s at his rings coated in your slick, bringing them to your mouth. “Clean them.” He simply tells, watching the way you don’t waste another second and open your mouth to invite his two digits in.
The taste of yourself hits your tongue, swirling every crevice of his fingers, outlining the ridges of his thick rings. You suck on them a bit, not missing the way his breath catches, shifting in his seat.
You feel a tap on your back, signaling to be done, pulling away to set his fingers free. “You are to be dismissed. Go home and get cleaned up, will you?” You aren’t given time to even firstly button back up your pants, his lap jerking up to have you off and on your feet.
As you grasp the doorknob to turn, you hear his voice one more time.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Be good this time, hm?”
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