، summary𓈒 michael is often busy with rehearsals and you ain't have no pleasure in a good minute so you just politely ask him to just use his fingers.
، pairing𓈒 michael jackson x black!fem!reader
، warnings𓈒 SMUT, 18+, masturbation, no use of y/n, kissing, fingering, crying, oversimulation, use of "baby".
، notes𓈒 I ain't write for michael in a minute (IM SORRY—i was feening for his brother), this was a bit rushed, but it literally based off this post- like wym his fingers was nearly five inches long??? bye; enjoy my strange ladies.
It was about 2:14 in the morning the last time you checked the green digital clock on your nightstand before going downstairs, and you done switched sides on the couch for what felt like the fifty thousandth time. You were curled up on said couch in the living room, the only light in the room coming from the warm, amber glow of the flickering television screen playing on mute. You had a satin robe tied loosely around your waist with your silk slip underneath, and your bare legs tucked under a thick throw blanket.
The house was too damn big when he wasn't there. You’d been trying to watch some late night sitcom reruns, but your eyes kept drifting to the heavy doors of the entrance.
You had the AC humming at a cool seventy degrees, but under this blanket, you were burning up. And it wasn't because of the weather outside. It was a deep, simmering heat right in your bones, settling heavy and tight right between your thighs.
Lord knew you loved your man. You loved his drive, his genius, the way his eyes lit up when a new idea clicked in his head. But this tour prep? It was running him ragged, and by default, it was leaving you high and dry; but shit, if you didn't miss your man.
And more than just missing his conversation, your body was aching for him.
You stared up at the ceiling. I ain't had no real lay down in...what? Three weeks? Four weeks? A whole fucking month.
It had been almost a full month since the two of you had really, truly connected. A month of quick, sleepy kisses in the mornings, brief phone calls during his fifteen minute lunch breaks, and falling asleep on opposite sides of a king sized bed because he was too physically exhausted to do anything but pass out the second his head hit the pillow.
Just yesterday, the desperation had gotten so bad you actually tried to take matters into your own hands. You’d dim the lights, pulled down your panties, and tried to get some relief. But it was a disaster. Every time you tried to find the right angle, your hand would cramp, or you’d lose the rhythm, or you just couldn't quite reach the spot that was aching deep inside your pussy. The frustration had built up so fast, hot and heavy behind your eyes, until you just ended up curling into a ball and crying actual tears of pure, unadulterated aggravation.
Imagine crying over some damn fingering. You’d felt so pathetic, sitting there with wet cheeks and a throbbing ache that wouldn't quit.
And now, here you were, twenty four hours later, and the ache was only worse.
Your skin was practically buzzing. Every little rub of the satin robe against your thighs felt like a tease. You’d spent the last hour just thinking about him- his hands, his voice, the way he breathed against your neck when he got worked up. You were needy, plain and simple. You wanted him, and you weren't planning on letting him just slip into sleep tonight without giving you a little piece of himself.
Just as you were about to give up and let sleep take you, the heavy thud of the front door finally echoed through the house.
You sat up, throwing the blanket off your legs. Your heart did a little flutter as you heard the familiar, exhausted sigh, followed by the soft rustle of his jacket being hung up in the closet.
A moment later, Michael walked into the room.
He looked absolutely beautiful, but incredibly worn down. He was wearing black pants, a loose, button down shirt over a white tee, and his black loafers. His curls were damp, clinging to the back of his neck and framing his face in sweaty spirals. His shoulders were slumped, and his eyes heavy with exhaustion.
When he noticed you sitting up on the couch, a soft, weary smile broke through his tired face.
"Hey, beautiful," he murmured, his voice incredibly deep, raspy, and quiet from a long day of singing. "What are you doing up? It's so late."
"Waiting on you," you said, your voice soft but carrying that smooth, slow drawl. You stood up from the sectional, stretching your legs, letting the silk robe part just enough to show a sliver of your thigh. "You look beat, baby."
Michael walked over to you, his movements slow. When he reached you, he just collapsed his forehead right onto your shoulder, letting his arms wrap loosely around your waist. He let out a long, shuddering breath, breathing in the scent of your cocoa butter lotion and the sweet perfume you’d lightly sprayed before he got home.
"I am," he whispered against your collarbone. "We did the choreography for 'Billie Jean' and 'Beat It' back to back today. Frank wanted to run the lighting cues over and over. My knees are aching, sweetheart. I feel like I could sleep for a whole week."
You gently stroked the back of his neck, your fingers slipping underneath the damp curls at his nape. You felt a wave of maternal warmth for him, but right beneath it was a burning, tight sensation in your lower belly.
"Mmh, I know you tired, Mike," you murmured, shifting your hips slightly so they brushed against his. "But I been missin' you. Like, really missin' you."
Michael pulled back just an inch, his dark eyes looking down into yours. He had that soft, gentle gaze he always got when he was looking at you, but there was a distinct fog of fatigue over his pupils. "I miss you too, girl. So much. Let's just go up to bed and cuddle, okay? I just want to hold you."
He reached down to take your hand, intending to lead you toward the grand staircase, but you didn't budge. You held his hand, but you anchored yourself, stepping closer into his space.
"Michael," you whispered, looking up at him with wide, glossy eyes. The desperation in your face must have shocked him, because his gaze instantly sharpened as you continued. "I don't just want to cuddle. I'm bout to go crazy. I swear to God I am. I ain't had none of you in a whole month."
"Have you been crying?"
You bit your lip, a hot flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You didn't want to admit it, but you were too far gone to care about your pride.
"Yeah," you confessed, your voice cracking slightly. "I was. Yesterday. And tonight."
Michael’s brow furrowed, his thumbs soothingly rubbing circles into your hips through the thin silk of your slip. "Why, baby? Tell me. What happened?"
"I just did! Because of this," you burst out, gesturing vaguely down between your bodies.
Michael let out a soft, breathy chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He reached up, gently tapping his fingertips against your chin. "Sweetheart, I love you, and you know I want nothing more than to lay you down right now. But my back is so stiff, and my body is literally aching. I don't think I have the strength to give you what you need tonight. Let me get some rest, and I promise you, tomorrow morning I'll make it up to you."
"Tomorrow morning you gotta be back at the arena by eight, and you know it," you pointed out, stepping even closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. You looked up at him through your lashes, letting your lips part slightly. "And I can't wait that long. I'm practically dying over here."
"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, kissing your forehead gently. "I just don't have the energy for a whole session."
"I ain't asking for all that," you murmured, your hand sliding down his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart through his shirt. You let your fingers trail down, stopping right at his waistline. "I know you tired. I know your knees hurting. So you don't gotta do all that..."
Michael raised an eyebrow, a slight, intrigued smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Oh, really? And what are you suggesting?"
"Just use your fingers, baby," you whispered, your voice a smooth, seductive purr against his ear. You nipped gently at his earlobe, making him shiver. "Just sit back, relax, and use your pretty hands on me. That's all I need. Just a little taste."
Michael groaned softly, his grip on your waist tightening just a fraction. You could tell he was fighting his own exhaustion, but the temptation of your touch, combined with the desperate tone in your voice, was starting to wear down his defenses. He loved how much you wanted him. He loved that even when he was completely drained, you still craved his touch above everything else. His eyes searched your face, taking in the dilated pupils, and the absolute raw hunger written in every line of your expression. He let out a long, shaky sigh, his head tilting back to look at the ceiling before closing his eyes.
"Oh, sweetheart," he groaned, bringing his head back down to look down at you. "You really know how to play with fire, don't you?"
"I'm burning up, Michael. Put it out."
He looked down at you with hooded eyes, a slow, dangerous smile creeping onto his lips. It wasn't his usual sweet, boyish grin. This was the smile of a man who knew exactly what kind of power he held over you, a man who was about to take his sweet, precious time.
"You're a bad girl," he muttered. "So needy. Using my weakness against me when I'm too tired to fight back. Can't even let a man rest."
"I ain't hear you say no," you teased, your heart racing. "Please, Michael? Just touch me. I'll do whatever you want, just don't leave me dry tonight."
Michael closed his eyes for a brief second, inhaling deeply, before opening them again. The exhaustion was still there, but now it was mixed with a heavy, simmering heat. He looked down at your lips, his gaze darkening.
"Alright," he whispered, his voice incredibly thick. "Alright, sweetheart. But we're doing this my way. And you have to promise to do exactly what I tell you."
"Always, baby," you breathed, a thrill running down your spine.
Michael took your hand and led you slowly up the stairs. The house was dead silent, the only sound being the soft pad of your bare feet and his loafers on the carpeted steps. When you reached the master bedroom, the massive space was cool and dark, lit only by the moonlight streaming through the large doors that led to the balcony.
Michael didn't turn on any lights. He preferred the darkness, the intimacy of the shadows.
He walked over to the massive king sized bed, kicking off his loafers before sitting down on the edge of the mattress. He leaned back against the headboard, his long legs stretching out in front of him. He looked up at you, standing at the foot of the bed.
"Come here," he commanded softly.
You walked over, your heart hammering against your ribs, really trying not to smile at how happy you were to be getting someee. You stopped right between his outstretched legs, looking down at him.
Michael reached up, his long, slender fingers catching the tie of your satin robe. With a slow pull, he undone the knot. The silk parted, pooling around your elbows and revealing the lace slip you were wearing underneath.
Michael’s eyes swept down your body, taking in every single curve, the rich warmth of your skin, the way your chest rose and fell with your shallow breathing. He let out a soft, appreciative hum, his hands sliding up your thighs, his palms warm and slightly calloused from years of dancing.
"You look so beautiful," he whispered, his hands smoothing over your hips, resting on your waist. "So beautiful. My sweet girl."
"Michael, please," you whimpered, the heat between your legs blooming instantly at his touch. "I'm already so wet for you."
"Shh," he murmured, his fingers gently digging into your hips, anchoring you. "Don't rush me. I told you, we're going slow. If I'm doing this, I'm taking my time."
He pulled you closer, guiding you to climb onto the bed. "Sit on my lap, facing away from me," he instructed, his voice all low and steady.
You did as you were told, turning around and straddling his thighs, your back pressing against his chest. The feeling of his broad chest against your back, his warm breath tickling the back of your neck, made you shiver.
Michael wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, kissing the soft spot right beneath your ear.
"You feel so good," he murmured. "So soft. So warm," he whispered, moving his head up, his lips brushing against your temple. "And you smell so good. What is that?"
"Cocoa butter. The one you like," you mumbled, your hands finding his thigh, tracing down to his knee. "Now stop stallin', Michael."
He let out a tired but rich laugh that vibrated against your chest. "Alright, alright. Impatient little thing."
His hands slowly slid down from your waist, moving over the smooth fabric of your slip, down to where your thighs met. You parted your legs slightly, giving him access, but Michael wasn't in a hurry. He kept his palms flat against your outer thighs, gently rubbing them in slow, circular motions.
"Michael..." you groaned, shifting your weight, trying to press your pussy against his hand.
"Stop moving," he whispered against your ear, his voice firm but gentle. "Just relax. Let me handle it."
You let out a breathy sigh, forcing your muscles to relax, leaning your head back against his shoulder.
Slowly, agonizingly so, Michael’s right hand slipped inward. His long fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, light as a feather. You trembled, your fingers gripping the bedsheets beside you. He trailed his fingers up, closer and closer to the lace of your underwear, but just when you thought he was going to touch you, he retreated, sliding his hand back down to your knee.
"Michael, stop teasing me," you whined. "You playin' too much. Just touch it."
Michael let out a soft chuckle against your neck. "You've been waiting a month, a few more minutes isn't going to kill you."
He repeated the motion, his fingers tracing patterns on your inner thighs, slowly acclimating your body to his touch, building the anticipation until you were literally panting, your hips involuntarily twitching.
Finally, his hand slipped underneath the lace material.
When his bare fingertips made contact with your swollen, soaking wet center, you let out a loud gasp, your back arching off his chest.
"Oh, fuck..." you breathed, your eyes closing tight. "Michael..."
"Mmh, look at that. Look at you," his voice incredibly soft, almost reverent. He felt how warm and slick you were, his fingertips instantly becoming coated in your juices. "You're soaking wet for me, girl. You really were needy, weren't you?"
"Yes," you confessed, your fingers gripping his bicep, your voice cracking. "Yes, baby. I been wanting you so bad."
Michael didn't immediately start stroking you. Instead, he just rested his palm against your mound, letting you feel the heavy, warm weight of his hand. He began to apply a slow, steady pressure, moving his palm up and down, grinding your sensitive flesh against himself. Michael might have been too tired to move his body, but his hands had a mind of their own.
And though friction was intense, it wasn't enough. You wanted his fingers in you.
"Please, Mike. Put 'em in. Just a little bit," you begged, turning your head slightly to try and catch his lips.
Michael turned his head to meet yours, pressing a deep, slow, open mouthed kiss to your lips. He tasted like sweet mint. He kissed you thoroughly, his tongue lazy and heavy, mirroring the slow rhythm of his hand down below.
While he kissed you, his middle finger slowly slipped inside of your pussy.
You let out a muffled moan into his mouth, your walls clenching tightly around his finger. They were so long, and the intrusion felt incredibly deep and full.
Michael pulled back from the kiss, his eyes heavy, watching your face in the dim moonlight. He saw the pleasure written across your features, your lips parted, your brow slightly furrowed as you tried to cope with the sensation.
"You're so tight," he whispered, his finger remaining completely still inside you. "So warm."
"Move it, baby," you pleaded, your hips giving a desperate little twitch. "Please, move it."
"Shh, easy," he murmured. "Let me stretch you out first."
He slowly curled his finger inside you, hooking it slightly against your front wall. The sudden friction against your g-spot made your eyes roll back, a loud broken moan escaping your throat. "Oh, shit- ! Michael...Michael!"
"I got you," he whispered, his voice incredibly deep and steady.
He slowly slid a second finger, his index finger, inside alongside the first. The fit was incredibly snug, making you stretch around him. He began a slow, rhythmic in and out motion. It wasn't fast, and it wasn't rough.
He began to move his fingers, but it was agonizingly slow. He would slide it almost all the way out, letting you feel the slick friction of his exit, only to push it back in with a slow thrust that was incredibly deep. With every stroke, his fingers coated themselves in your slickness, the wet, squelching sound filling the quiet bedroom, making your face burn with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal.
Over and over, he kept the pace tortuously slow. He was making sure you felt every millimeter of his fingers sliding inside you.
You were losing your mind. Your body wanted him to move fast, wanted to ride his hand to get that quick, explosive release, but every time you tried to speed up the pace, tried to really buck your hips and fuck yourself on this man's hand like a bitch in heat, Michael’s hand on your hip would tighten, holding you firmly in place.
"No, no," he cautioned, his deep voice vibrating against your back. "Don't rush, baby. Just feel how good it is."
"It's too slow, Michael," you cried out, a tear of frustration and pleasure escaping the corner of your eye. "You torturing me."
"I'm loving you," he corrected softly, his finger finally finding your highly sensitive clit.
He didn't rub it. He was just pressed down gently, holding his finger there while his fingers on his other hand continued its slow, deep curls inside of you.
The combination of the deep, slow penetration and the steady, heavy pressure on your clit sent a massive wave of electricity straight to your core. Your legs began to shake, your inner muscles contracting violently around his finger.
"That's it," Michael murmured, feeling the pre orgasmic ripples of your body. "You like that, don't you?"
"Yes, yes, right there, Mike," you gasped, your voice completely wrecked. "Right there."
He kept his movements steady, his long fingers working inside you with a masterful, lazy rhythm that was driving you over the edge. He didn't have to strain himself; he just lay there, watching your face in the dim light, enjoying the way he could make you unravel with just a fraction of his effort.
"I'm not going to let you come yet," he whispered, his voice dripping with a playful, dominant malice.
And just like that, he eased up. He pulled his fingers almost completely out, his fingers lightly brushing away from your sweet spot, leaving you hovering right on the edge of a cliff, completely suspended.
You let out a frustrated, heartbroken groan. You grabbed his thighs, turning to look up at his handsome, smug face. He looked so incredibly handsome, his features all soft and full of love.
"Michael, why you doing me like this?" you whined, completely exasperated. "You know I'm right there. Don't play with me like this, baby, I'm begging you."
Michael down at you, his eyes incredibly soft but holding a deep, intense hunger. He reached over, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb wiping away the stray tear of frustration.
"Because I want it to last," he whispered honestly. "If I let you come right now, you're going to fall asleep, and I won't get to feel you like this for another long time. I want to enjoy you, sweetheart. I want to see how much you can take."
You looked into his eyes, seeing the genuine, deep affection mixed with the primal desire to possess you, to dominate your pleasure. The frustration faded instantly, replaced by a deep submission.
"Okay," you whispered. "Okay. Do what you want. Just don't stop."
Michael smiled, a beautiful smile. "I won't stop."
He reached down, his hands catching your thighs and spreading them wider, draping your legs over his own. He adjusted himself slightly, leaning back a bit more so he had a clear view of your pussy.
He dipped two fingers into your slick pool of moisture, coating them completely before he slowly pushed both fingers deep inside you, a sharp gasp escaping your lips.
"Ohhh- hnnmm," you whimpered, your hands moving down to grip the sheets for dear life.
Michael began to pump his fingers inside you, but he kept the pace slow, steady, and incredibly deep. He was curling his fingers upward, hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over again with a wet, rhythmic squelch that echoed.
His other hand reached up, his thumb gently circling your clit, match the slow rhythm of his fingers. Every slide of his fingers made you lose your breath. You closed your eyes, your head rolling back against his shoulder, your hips rolling against his hand as you let out low moans.
You were completely at his mercy. Every touch was calculated, designed to build the tension in your lower belly until it was almost unbearable.
"Michael...please...I can't..." you cried out softly, your hands clutching the satin sheets, your toes curling. The pleasure was rolling through you in waves, so overwhelming because you had waited so damn long for it.
"Yes you can," he whispered, his voice a soothing, hypnotic tone. "Just ride the wave, baby. Let it build. I've got you."
He kept you on that agonizing edge for what felt like hours, but was likely only fifteen minutes of sensory torture. He would build you up until your thighs were shaking uncontrollably, asking you to "Look at me, baby," with a hypnotic tone, his finger applying a perfect, steady pressure to your clit while his other fingers stroked deep inside you, and then he would slow down even more, whispering sweet, encouraging words into your ear, kissing your neck, your ear, your lips, until your body settled just enough for him to start the build up all over again.
By the time he finally decided to let you go, you were completely spent, your body vibrating with a tension so tight it felt like a coiled spring. "You love it when I touch you like this?" he asked, his voice a low, commanding purr.
"I love it...I love you, Mike...I'm about to..." you sobbed softly, not even able to finish your sentences, your fingers digging into his thighs, likely leaving light red marks that you couldn't see because of his pants. "I need to come. Please, baby. Let me come."
Michael looked down at you, his own breathing heavy now, his face flushed with heat. He saw how completely undone you were, how entirely devoted you were to his touch in this moment.
"Alright, baby," he whispered, his voice incredibly tender. "Come for me. Right now."
He suddenly sped up his movements, his fingers thrusting deeply and rapidly inside of you, while his thumb rubbed your clit in fast, intense circles.
The sudden shift in pace was too much. Your body instantly locked up.
A loud, soul shattering cry tore from your throat as your vision went completely white. Your walls clamped down on his fingers in tight, rhythmic spasms, squeezing him with incredible force. You arched your back, before your entire body began shaking violently as the intense, delayed orgasm crashed over you in waves, going on and on, seemingly never ending because of how long he had held you back. Your hips bucked against his hand, your chest heaving as you rode it out.
Michael held you tightly against him, his fingers staying deep inside you, feeling every single contraction of your climax. He buried his face in your neck, letting out a low, satisfied groan of his own as though he were the one nutting, completely intoxicated by your pleasure. He let you shake, kissing away the happy tears that gathered at the corners of your eyes.
"Yes, baby," he whispered against your skin, his voice all thick and warm. "That's it. Let it out. Give it all to me."
You collapsed against his chest, your muscles completely jelly, your heart pounding like a drum. You were panting heavily, sweat lightly shining your forehead, letting the contractions gently squeeze him until the worst of the tremors faded into a lazy, warm afterglow.
Slowly, carefully, Michael slipped his fingers out of you. He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a soft hand towel to clean himself and you, his movements incredibly tender and caring.
Once you were both cleaned up, he pulled you back into his arms. You collapsed against his chest, completely spent, your forehead resting right over his heart. You could hear it beating- a steady, comforting thump thump, thump thump.
"You alright now, needy girl?" he teased softly, his chest rumbling against your cheek.
You released a soft, satisfied hum, wrapping one leg over his thigh, tangling your bodies together. "I'm perfect. Thank you, baby."
"Anytime," he murmured, his voice incredibly heavy now, his eyes already fluttering shut. "Now...let your man get some sleep."
"Go to sleep, Mike," you whispered, kissing his warm chest.
Within minutes, his breathing slowed into a deep, even rhythm. You lay there in the quiet of the bedroom, warm, fully satisfied, and completely loved, listening to the soft sound of his breathing as the neon green clock ticked away into the morning.
𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 : michael jackson has a vagina! and tits! degradation, male reader, pussy stepping, humping, latex, toes?? (very little), not proofread further, oral (you recieving), use of "daddy"
the latex suit squeezed michael's breasts so nicely, his pert nipples visible through the tight-fitting fabric. a wide slit was left to allow the man's vagina to be seen, slightly hairy folds on full display. he struggled to breathe as the suit started from his neck, leaving no other part of his body exposed.
it felt so nice to be enveloped fully aside from what needed most attention. michael whined and laid back with his legs in the air, he spread them open and bent one knee, curling his slender toes as his delicate fingers spread his burgundy folds open in the shape of a v.
you bit your lip at the sight, such a sweet man becoming so needy at your feet, so pathetic. "not yet baby, im gonna need you to show me just how badly you want my dick." michael all but whined and mumbled under his breath, "what was that angel? you'll need to speak up for me." you towered over the man and lifted his chin up with your thumb and pointer finger.
michael nodded and begged frantically waiting patiently as you sat in front of him. he took in your appearance, and most importantly the array of belts you had wrapped around your thighs. he had reccomended the style a while ago and you grew to like it sure, but michael loved seeing you dress like this.
he carefully crawled towards you, back arched and hips swaying as if he had a tail attached that was curling elegantly. he finally stood to settle on your lap, muscular thighs and ass noticeably flexing through the fabric of his suit as he began to grind slowly. sure you could've allowed him to get off on your thigh, that would be hot, but you wanted to see him beg. you stopped his hips with a tight grip, much to his dismay he whined in protest, "get back on your knees" he obeyed begrudgingly and slinked back down to the floor.
he instead settled by your heavy leather boots and sat in a riding position using your belts as support. "daddy please fuck me..." is the first thing he mewled as his hips began to rock against the hard surface. you could only watch as he gradually made a mess of himself at your feet. his hips circled up and down as the natural lubrication of his pussy helped ease the slide. he drooled and moaned out "daddy...fuck....mmmgh...im your slut!" his breasts bounced and his eyes were lidded at how drunk on pleasure he was.
you unbuckled your belt to free your now hard and throbbing dick. you pulled it out entirely to give him a peek of what he so desired and he couldnt help but clench at the mere sight of your thick veiny shaft. "since you've been so good i'll let you suck me off baby" you complimented with a smile and caressed his red face.
michael moaned in satisfaction and rushed to get his pretty mouth on you.
he stuck out his sharp tongue to lick long strips from base to tip around the front, you hissed as his fingers teased the tip and rubbed at the foreskin. he had his ass sticking out, pussy now puffy and clenching on air between his thighs. he knew it would be a challenge to swallow the whole thing so he wanted to make sure you got lots of attention first.
he teased your tip on his tongue for a small taste before gripping the base and sinking his entire mouth down. his eyes rolled to the back of his head and you moaned loud and deep sending vibrations straight to his clit. his tongue swirled around you and you could feel the clench of his throat. he gagged and pulled off, swiping his hand up and down as he breathed deeply before spitting on it and going back for more.
his nose was buried in your pubic hairs as he held your balls in his hands, massaging and squeezing them to keep himself grounded as you gripped his head and fucked his mouth harshly.
"ggh..gg.." is all you heard as his ass grinded shakily in the air, his eyes lidded and sweat now dripping down his forehead. "such a fuck doll huh, your mouth's only good for sucking dick." you groan and he arches in response.
before you can finish you pull his hair to get him to stop, he makes a whine of disapproval as he pulls of your dick with a pop.
there was saliva everywhere, he looked a complete mess, but you knew he needed more.
"lay on the floor puppy and you can't cum until I allow it." you lightly kicked him backwards with your heavy boot. he laid onto his back, arms clasped over his tummy, tits being squeezed between them.
his flexible legs spread wide with his body in the shape of an m on the floor. you get up from your spot, belts clanging as you walk over to him.
you take your heavy boot and press it against the soft flesh of his cunt, he gasps at the pain and bites his swolen lips in ecstasy. he felt so embarrassed to be humiliated and treated like nothing, but it made it more embarrassing how much he loved this.
he grinded his sensitive clit over the rough sole of your boot, fingers clutching at the thick material. high whines and mewls escaped him as he chased his high, orgasm building in the pit of his stomach.
before michael can cum you rip away your boot, watching as his thighs shake at the denial, he writhes and yells "daddy! please! fuck i was so close...mmmhf"
you snicker and lower to his level, planking over his body to face him.
your dick hangs hard and proud almost touching his throbbing hole. his hips stutter upwards i desperation.
you lower your lips to his into a teeth crashing kiss. it was a mess. saliva-filled, tongues exploring, moans falling between you.
you decided enough was enough and your hand went down to your dick, grabbing it to line up with michael's fragile entrance.
"please daddy....i..." he begins to say between kisses but you cut him off with a sharp plunge into his cunt.
you're fucking him into the floor, pulling out to rub around the left over cum and arousal on the thighs of his latex suit as lube. your thrusts are deep and quick, michael's sleeved arms grabbing at your back jacket for stability.
"love how you fuck my pathetic cunt daddy, please cum in me im so empty..." michael gasps out between thrusts. you quicken your pace and let your tongue wander down his neck onto his clothed chest.
his hard nipples were hard to miss as they erected through the suit. you suck on them greedily, biting and nipping at them harshly. michael was halfway passed out by now, the immense pleasure taking him over. all he could do was lay with his tongue out, eyes glossed over, and sweaty black hair sticking to his forehead.
you finally cum deep inside him, his toes flex and whole body shakes, "hah...daddy....hah...thank you..." he whispers out of breath as his womb filled with your seed. you pull out and let your release leak out of him before plugging it with your fingers for a bit.
you look him over and pepper kisses over his entire face with so much love. he laughs lightly. oh how you loved this angel. his pussy was a tender mess, jaw aching and eyes full of dried tears. you search through some belongings close by and find a thick plug to replace your fingers.
once the plug was in, you carry michael's limp body in your arms and make your way into the bedroom to take care of him for the rest of the night.
𓏵♡ ㅤ.⋆ . ֗ ۪ . ׂ ˚
i want to improve my writing for you all! maybe expect fluff next time so i won't be just horny on this app...lmk if you enjoyed! . . . effie
yes ive been putting off writing bc im trying to do smut with a plot and writing another story thats only fluff but i get distracted by mj’s puffy pussy & pretty tits being on my mind 24/7
— SUMMARY: Michael is always so shy whenever you two are intimate, so you work him up so you can hear him pleasure himself while you “sleep.”
— WARNINGS: sub!mike, masturbation (m), whining, voyeurism, getting caught, humiliation kink, somnophilia, use of daddy to tease, use of mama, smut with not much plot (who cheered), not proofread (yet!)
— WC: 2.2k
— A/N: Loosely ib this tweet. Took me forever to get around to this because i wanted it to be perfect, but i got wine drunk and wrote this in one sitting lol..
“C’mere ‘n kiss me, pretty boy.”
You knew that was gonna get him going, and that’s exactly why you said it.
Michael practically flew to the bed after shutting off your shared bedroom’s light and almost throwing his reading glasses on his nightstand. A small part of you wanted to roll your eyes at the subconscious action; he never wanted the lights on, and all you wanted to do was see his pretty face contorted in pleasure while he fucked you into the sheets. The only light coming through the room was from the TV on your dresser, silently humming in the background.
“Mmm, you smell so good,” he whispered to you shyly in between pecks.
You knew. You took extra time with your skincare and shower tonight, purposefully applying lotions and body oils that you noticed made him crazy.
Making a conscious decision not to give him any sort of relief, you changed your position from being on your side to straddling his thighs, careful not to to grind the prominent bulge growing underneath his endearing money-print pajamas. He wasn’t wearing underwear, perfect.
He pulled away, eyeing you with heavy lids. He was so easy for you and you took advantage of that fact any time you could.
“This lil’ number…You look perfect. Like a doll.” He bit his lip and adjusted your strap as his gaze traveled down the length of the red slip dress you were wearing. His favorite color.
Cupping the back of your neck with his hand, he pulled you in for another kiss, this one hungrier than the last.
His tongue immediately darted into your mouth the moment your lips parted, wasting no time for a buildup. He was starving.
You pulled away as far as you could with his strong grip on your neck.
“Someone’s a little eager. You hungry, daddy?” you teased, drawing out ‘daddy’ the way you did when you wanted to push his buttons. It worked. He made a little tortured sound at the back of his throat and cleared it to hide it.
Irritated with his bashfulness, you started slowly grinding against his thighs, stopping just short of his surely leaking sex.
“‘Cause I am,” you added.
He fluttered his eyes, not leaving them closed nor open, torn between shutting them in anticipated pleasure or watching the dreamlike scene in front of him.
“Stop hidin’. I wanna see those pretty eyes. Please, baby?” you asked him sweetly. The two of you loved this little game you had; you pretended he was daddy, and you asked him please, and you told him thank you, but you were always in control. Something about the act of asking for ‘permission’ and taking the ‘control’ from Michael added to the fun.
His eyeballs flew open immediately, almost comically bulging. Leaning down teasingly slow, you connected your lips once again, and his large hand, still at the nape of your neck, held you impossibly close. With your tongues swirling and your core still grinding painfully close to his, he was swimming in need. It only worsened when you started moaning into his mouth like a cat in heat. He wanted to whine out so badly, but the idea of you hearing how pathetic he was getting stopped him.
His free hand snaked its way to your waist and attempted to pull you closer, to break that infinitesimal gap between you. Not wanting to give in, you slapped it away harshly and placed your hand on his neck, daring to squeeze.
“Oh, God. You’re gonna drive me insane, baby. Please,” he almost whined. He attempted to dive back in for another kiss to conceal how flustered he was. You pressed your other hand to his chest and pushed him into the pillows.
“Whatcha pleadin’ for?” you questioned seductively, tightening the grip around his neck ever so slightly.
“C’mon, you gonna make me say it?” He looked at you, offended.
“Use your words, love. I’m not a mind reader y’know.” You felt on top of the world.
Michael was soaking through his pajama pants now; you could feel a wet spot on its fabric. With this in mind, you faked a yawn, setting your plan into action.
He still said nothing.
“Mmm, well I’m tired. Gonna go to sleep, ‘kay?” You adjusted your hands and position on top of him so fast, it seemed almost impossible that you were close to making him cum untouched.
“W-wait, we didn’t even get to do…I want…” he trailed off.
“Hm?” You pretended to be confused, feeling him adjust himself beneath you.
“I…ah-” Your body pressed against his hard on, as you pretended to innocently give him a hug, “N-nothing. G’night, angel. I love you.”
You pressed a kiss to his chin, shifting your hips against his again, and whispered, “I love you, Mikey. Gonna dream of you.”
He slightly titled his body over to let you roll off of him, and tucked you under the blankets tenderly, trying his hardest to ignore the unattended lust growing inside of him.
Michael decided to try and pay attention to the old black & white comedy on television, but every few minutes, he’d take a look at you and his dick would throb hungrily. You were wearing nothing under your slip dress, and your bare ass and sticky folds were peeking through the edge of the blanket on top of you.
After about 10 minutes, you made a show of taking loud, even breaths in an attempt to prove that you’d fallen asleep. You started softly sighing and whimpering ever so slightly—the way you knew you always did in your sleep—only this time more suggestively.
Around minute 14, you’d almost given up on the whole act, realizing Michael was probably too shy to even think about touching himself next to you, even if you were asleep. You were wrong.
He couldn’t take it. He tried. Really, truly tried, but he was hurting, and it’s not like he’d have to tell you.
Hesitantly, after lifting the blanket off of your backside to reveal your naked body to him some more, he quietly drooled into his hand and dipped it into his pants. His fingers lingered on his pelvis, trailing teasing paths around the area just like you would. The thought of your hand there made him lose himself too quickly, and his wet and sticky hand found his sore dick and tugged graciously from base to tip.
The absolute…pervertedness of his actions only somehow turned him on more. The fact that you could wake up to take a sip of water, or you could turn over to him wanting to cuddle…It all added to the desire.
A secret part of him wanted to be caught. To be humiliated by you seeing the worked up state you coaxed him into.
The waistband of his pajama pants became a barrier, a nuisance of an obstacle stopping him from experiencing the extent of pleasure that he wanted to. If he was gonna do this, he might as well go all the way, right?
So, he slid them off with his legs, not enough care in his mind to see if the movement made you stir in your sleep.
He jerked himself with an easier motion now: up and twist, and down and tug, and up and twist. Over and over and over. The exact way you did with both of your pretty hands.
“Mmph,” he whimpered. Silently, but it was still louder than he’d usually let you hear.
Your heart pounded brutally. He was really doing it.
Being greedy, you stirred a bit in your ‘sleep,’ positioning yourself in between being on your back and on your side, in his direction. You let out a theatrical sleepy moan, and Michael froze.
He looked you over for a bit, focusing on your face to make sure you weren’t looking. Then, his horny gaze flitted to what was in between your thighs, wide open and fully on display for him. He continued.
She’s still so wet for me, he thought to himself.
The truth was, you were unfortunately getting wetter and wetter just by hearing him while you were turned around.
Facing him without watching was proving to be a challenge though, because he started making noise, and lots of it.
“God– yes. Please…please…” he begged. He was still looking at you through lidded eyes and tugging his dick at a relentlessly slow pace, imagining you teasing him and making him beg for it.
You squeezed your thighs together a little too harshly, feeling the pressure on your clit at the action.
He looked at you more intensely then, still pumping himself, but taken by surprise at the loud slap of your legs closing.
“No…” he whispered to himself. He wanted you to stay spread.
He reached his free hand over and separated your legs again, taking in just how close you’d gotten to him while you tossed and turned. The scent of your body oil hit the back of his throat at the same time he twisted his wrist at his tip, and he moaned. A full, throaty moan of erotic pleasure and need, and he didn’t even care.
Still having half a mind not to wake you, he ghosted his fingers over one of your inner thighs. He needed to touch you. To ground himself. That only made it worse, though, because he felt your arousal half dried on your thigh.
“O-oh. Angel, please...L-love it when…” He was speaking nonsense now, just saying any thought that came into his head. He’s never been this loud masturbating even completely alone.
His pumping grew faster, and you could hear the lewd sounds of his precum and spit squelching around his patterned dick. You wanted to look so badly.
“P…lease, I-I’ll be good. Please, please…” he babbled.
What’s he thinkin’ about? you wondered to yourself.
He was trying to edge himself. Just like you did. He was gripping his base harder and speeding up his jerking just the way you would whenever you were working him to an orgasm, only to snatch it away from him.
His hand snaked closer to your pussy, and he collected the arousal. He was craving this. He stuffed his fingers into his mouth, and his eyes fluttered shut at the taste.
“Ngh, so good, b-baby,” he moaned around his fingers, complimenting his mind’s imagination of you. He was being unabashedly loud now, the desire to be caught fucking his own fist like a needy loser ever growing.
The feeling of your body heat next to him while he did this was only adding fuel to the fire rising to his abdomen. He was so close. Droplets of his precum were landing on his pelvis in bursts.
“So close– ngh– ahh– I need–” He yanked his hand away immediately, having almost orgasmed.
“Dammit…” he protested to nobody. Removing his fingers from his drooling mouth, he looked at you and started pumping his crying sex slowly again.
“S-so pretty…” He scooted closer to you, his shoulder grazing yours, and placed his hand right back on top of your sticky pussy.
“‘M sorry, mama. Th-this is so dirty..” he apologized as if you could hear him. It was more to spare his own guilt, though. Your eyes fluttered slightly, and he traced one long finger across your clit, making you mewl silently. At the sight and sound of you getting worked up in your ‘sleep,’ he grew even more desperate than before. The pace he had set for himself quickened, and he flattened his hand against your folds. He wasn’t moving it, he just wanted to feel you.
Up, twist, down, yank, up, twist, down, tug.
His pace was almost unforgiving, his hand was moving so fast he couldn’t even believe he was doing it himself. The atmosphere felt electric. His precum was settling between the webs of his fingers, he was fully twitching against your side, and his eyes never left the sight of his huge hand blanketing your core.
“F-fu…I’m…AGH–” His body jolted upwards and his scream caught in the back of his throat. The pressure of Michael’s release felt like a water balloon hitting asphalt; a violent shatter. His toes curled in a way that would surely make them cramp later, he gripped your inner thigh, and his hips stuttered and spasmed as he milked himself dry. He moaned and whimpered and cried and thanked your relaxed figure.
Your heart was hammering, and you squinted just enough to see him in this state. He was beautiful. His hair was stuck to his forehead and flat against the back of his head. Cum was splattered against his abdomen, thighs, and pelvis. His mouth was shaped in an ‘O’, and his eyebrows were knotted so tight, it looked like it should hurt. You were awestruck.
He finally fell limp after what felt like the longest orgasm known to humankind, and he slid his hand off of you and scooted away a bit. His mind was unfogging just enough to care about your personal space and beauty sleep now.
Breathing finally even, he stretched his hands up and took a deep breath, feeling unbelievably satisfied and guilty.
Your eyes were fully open now, staring the side of his head down, and he hadn’t noticed. Reaching over silently, you swiped a droplet of cum off of his stomach and sucked your finger, moaning around it loudly. His heart nearly fell to his toes when he looked at you, guilt written all over his face.
“Thanks for the show, daddy. You sing beautifully.”
⤷ ೃ ◛* (18+) just got my first wax ever and of course, my horrid mind got an idea. sooo sub top dangerous era!michael who becomes insatiable after you get your first brazilian wax.
After sitting your boyfriend down on the bed to show him a “surprise”, you unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them down along with underwear to show him the heart you had your wax technician leave with your pubic hair.
“Like it?” You questioned innocently, as if your bare pussy wasn’t being flaunted in his face. He was shocked, but pleasantly. You had to stop him from trying to devour you right then and there, telling him that you were told to wait at least three days before any intercourse.
You don’t think you’ve ever seen Michael more needy in your life in the days that followed, with him being extra clingy, doing silly things like standing behind you while you brushed your teeth in only your panties, watching intently while you undressed for your showers, and giving you puppy dog eyes while trying to convince you to let him just touch you, saying things like “only your clit”, to which you denied countless times. He resorted to just staring you down as you walked the house, only thinking about stuffing his face, hands, or better yet, his dick in between your bare cunt.
His last straw came when he awoke from his slumber and saw you cooking breakfast in his favorite nightgown that you owned. He stood to the side of you, hand wrapped around your waist as he peered onto the pan of sausage you were cooking.
“Smells good,” He mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eye. “What is today?”
“Monday..? Why’d you ask?” You looked at him with a chuckle and raised eyebrows, confused at the odd question. Before you could prod him further, he now stood behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist while laying his head on your shoulder.
“Mmm,” He groaned sleepily, hand traveling up your body to grip your breast over your clothes. “That’s wonderful.” you could hear the cheeky smile in his voice.
“Michael. Hands off. Wait until tonight,” You swatted his hand away before picking up the spatula to flip the food, holding the handle of the pan with the other. You were surely horny and ovulating, but you still didn’t want to risk anything.
“Baby please,” He muttered, and with a quick movement of his hand, the back of your nightgown was pulled up to reveal your bare ass. “And you’re not wearing anything under here. You want me to go crazy.” He whined, and you let out a loud sigh before quickly reaching back to hit his hand again.
“Michael. You don’t listen. I told you, just wait until tonight. I’m gonna burn this damn meat if you don’t leave me alone right now.”
“Let me just look, please..I won’t do anything.” He asked again, but he didn’t need to as he took matters into his own hands and lifted up your gown again, pulling up the fabric to bunch it up at your abdomen as he stared at the fat of your ass—and best of all— the cute little heart that sat on your pubis.
You ignored him at this point, letting him take the piss, rolling your eyes to yourself as you went back to cooking, lifting the pan up to shake the goodness, making your ass jiggle a bit in the process. Michael audibly groaned at this, gripping your ass in his hands and shaking it again for his entertainment.
“Cut it out. You’re getting worked up,” You strained, lowering the heat now as your sear on the meat was almost perfect. “Go sit on the couch and wait for the food. I’ll give you a little attention then.”
There was silence, and you thought he was thinking it over like a rational person, until you felt something hard pressing at your folds. You let out a gasp, ready to completely go off on him, but within seconds his cock was already slid deep inside of you. Completely taking you from behind, he let out a drawn out moan at the feeling he had been craving, his big hands coming around to grip your upper thighs for leverage. Your jaw dropped open at the sheer audacity, as well as the pleasure that was now surging through your body.
“God,” He cursed under his breath as he got used to your warmth, gyrating his hips in a circular motion that had your brain going dumb. “I’m so sorry,” He half apologized, beginning to slowly pull himself in and out of you, coating himself in your essence. “Woke up thinking about you, about this..”
“You’re beyond full of shit..” You choked out, breathlessly, wobbly hands going to turn the fire off under the food you knew wasn’t getting finished anytime soon.
“I know, I know,” He whined sleepily. He pulled your back flush to him, leaving little to no room between the two of you, moving his hands from your thighs to grip both of your clothed tits as he sped up his thrusts. “But I just can’t help it. You’re so wet.”
Broken moans began to fall out of your mouth as he was practically using you for his pleasure, leaving you helpless in his grip.
“I love you baby, mean it,” You could hear his mouth fall open, panting heavily as you could feel his breath against your head. The wet noises coming from him fucking you were obscene. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. Forgive me.” He whimpered and panted heavily in between his thrusts, moving one of his hands down to cup your pussy, thumb running over the patch of hair.
“M’ gonna cum, inside of you, right now,” He babbled aimlessly in your ear, far too gone from the pleasure, letting out all kinds of desperate noises whilst he thrusted his hips into you similarly to a horny dog in heat.
With one last shaky thrust of his hips, he spilled inside of you, coming completely undone as his body convulsed and cock twitched harshly inside of you.
“Oh, baby, shit,” He moaned almost too loud in your ear, rocking his hips a few more times before coming to a stop and cockwarming you. “I’m sorry.” He placed a kiss to your cheek, acting as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on.
synopsis: after losing his virginity, michael is basically hard 24/7.
cw: smut, mentions of oral (m!receiving), mentions of virginity loss, dry humping, p in v, creampie (sorry this is like a baseline for all my fics atp), handjob, wet dreams, praise, dirty talk, whiny!michael (my fav), mutual obsession..? yo gang i stink at tagging stuff
requested !! (ty anon ily)
based off either otw/thriller!michael
michael’s face was buried so deeply in the crook of your neck that his desperate whines were muffled directly against your skin.
he was shoved deep inside you, his chest pressing into yours as he frantically thrusted, his hips jerking with a clumsy urgency that overrode his usual gentleness.
he couldn't stop the high whimpers escaping him every single time his hips slammed flush against yours, his hands clutching at the sheets on either side of your head because he was absolutely losing his mind.
should you say that you didn’t expect this?
no, you definitely did.
ever since the night of the 1980s grammys, your relationship had been rewritten into something insatiable.
you had both come home riding the high of the awards and lost your virginities to one another, and god, did that unlock a monster.
they always say that once you finally cross that line, it changes your body completely.
it was true.
giving your innocence to one another didn't satisfy the craving; it only made the hunger twice as bad.
now that your bodies knew exactly how good it felt to fuse together, the physical need for each other had become an actual addiction.
it was like a switch flipped, and suddenly neither of you could get enough of each other. you were just as obsessed with him as he was with you, but michael was so much worse at hiding it.
he would literally whine and beg to take you, his voice cracking with a needy pitch that left him embarrassed afterward – yet he just couldn't help himself.
he got hard the absolute second you crossed his mind.
sometimes that desperation got so overwhelming – so violently thick between you, that there wasn't even time to pull your clothes off. he’d get so needy that he would grab you by the waist, dragging you onto his lap to straddle him.
you’d both start humping against each other like animals in heat, grinding together with a feverish friction that left you both mewling into each other’s necks as you chased the relief.
your underwear would already be drenched, soaked through with your slick arousal. michael would lose his mind at the wetness of it, his hips jerking uncontrollably against yours, fucking into you harder and harder until he’d choke out a broken cry as you both came, soaking right through your clothes.
it was a constant, beautiful torment for him.
frequently, you’d wake up in the dead of night to the heavy press of his weight. he’d be trapped in the grip of a vivid wet dream, his long fingers subconsciously wrapped around your waist to anchor you tightly against his hips.
hearing his frantic breaths and the desperate whines vibrating against your neck, you'd reach up to gently run your fingers along the ends of his curls, softly whispering his name to pull him out of it.
he’d wake up with a shudder, his movements coming to an abrupt halt. the second he realized he’d been dry-rutting you in his sleep, he’d squeeze his eyes back shut and bury his face deep into your shoulder, his skin burning hot.
"’m sorry," he’d mumble, sounding embarrassed.
“‘s okay, baby” you’d whisper, stroking his hair to settle him as you reached back down between your bodies, your fingers slipping under his waistband.
michael would let out a gasp at the contact, his body locking up tight. he’d be too embarrassed to say anything else, just letting out a small, needy whimper as his hips instinctively jerked forward into your palm, his body quivering as he shot his cum straight into your hand.
and it didn't matter how public or innocent the setting was; his mind was entirely corrupted by you.
just a few weeks ago, during a particularly hot day by the pool, the backyard had been full of his siblings laughing and playing music. you had been sitting on the edge of a lounge chair, completely oblivious, casually eating a blue popsicle to stay cool.
across the pool, michael had been completely hypnotized.
he watched the way your lips wrapped around the popsicle, his chest tightening as his mind drifted to how good it felt when you hollowed your cheeks to suck him just like that, or how incredibly filthy it would look to see his creamy white cum dripping against the bright blue stain on your tongue.
his eyes dragged down, eyeing just how good your body looked in that swimsuit, fiending over the sight of you.
he couldn't stop staring at your soft curves, his gaze locked onto how plump your ass looked pressed against the lounge chair.
he felt so dirty – so guilty for thinking that way about his sweet, precious girlfriend, but the blood rushed straight to his dick so fast it made his head spin. he just couldn’t seem to look away.
it could be something as sweet as you gently playing with his curls, absentmindedly tracing shapes on his chest while cuddling under a blanket, or even just the mere scent of your perfume. all of it – every single little thing you did – had him losing his mind.
whenever you caught him like that – feeling the thick length of him pressing against you during a simple hug – you couldn't resist teasing him.
you’d shift just enough to grind subtly against it, whispering a soft, teasing comment about how bad he wanted you, even though the sheer sight of his needy state made your own thighs rub together, completely soaked with the knowledge that the slightest thing you did could turn him like this.
which was kinda how you ended up in this predicament tonight.
you were standing by the edge of the dining room, just listening to the loud chatter of the family gathering, when you felt the unmistakable warmth of michael hovering right behind you.
without speaking a word, he leaned over your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against your jawline before trailing a slow path down the sensitive skin of your neck.
your stomach flipped. you quickly looked around the crowded room, your heart hammering against your ribs as you tried to make sure no one was watching.
"michael..." you whispered, your voice a nervous warning as his mouth sank right into the crook of your shoulder.
he didn't care.
he didn't even look up at the crowd, engulfed by the scent of your skin. his fingers slipped down to lock tightly with yours, his palm burning hot as he gave an insistent tug and started guiding you away from the room. you obviously didn’t object. you wanted him just as bad.
so you swallowed hard, letting him lead you quickly past the noise of the hallway and straight up the steps.
the second you crossed the threshold of his bedroom, the door clicked shut, wasting no second to lock it.
michael didn't even give you a second to breathe before he was pressing you back against the wood.
he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that started out deceptively gentle. it made you melt against him, but it only lasted for a heartbeat.
you let out a soft sigh, and his tongue took advantage of that, pushing past your lips. he completely consumed your mouth, his tongue deep and demanding as it slicked over yours with an uncoordinated hunger.
you could hear the wet, sloppy friction of your lips sliding together, the heat of his saliva slicking your chin as he tilted your head back to get a deeper angle.
he swallowed your quiet gasps as his mouth tasted you, his tongue stroking yours with heat. you mewled into his mouth as your thighs shifted together, trying to relieve the ache between them.
“michael–” you tried to gasp out, your hips jerking forward to grind against his cock.
he interrupted you, muffling the sound of your voice under another kiss, his mouth sliding hungrily over yours. you managed to pull your mouth away from his, your breaths coming in ragged pants.
“michael, wait– they’re gonna notice we’re gone,” you breathed out, your head tilting back against the door to look up at him.
he didn’t care though, his eyes were glued to your mouth. instead of answering, his lips dropped to your neck. he sucked hard, bruising the sensitive skin under your jaw, leaving a mark that will definitely darken later. his tongue lapped at your skin as a moan escaped your lips, which only drove him crazier. your moans alone were pulling guttural groans from his chest.
his hands were all over you.
his long fingers dug bruisingly into your waist, anchoring you tight before his palms slid down, his large hands roughly cupping the plump flesh of your ass through your clothes and lifting you slightly to grind his rock-hard cock right into your dripping center.
a breathless whimper tore from his throat into your mouth, his grip tightening as his hands slid back up your torso, his palms slipping hungrily under your shirt to map out every inch of your bare skin.
he was squeezing your waist, his thumbs tracing the curve of your ribs, utterly fiending for the feel of you as the kiss grew messier.
“oh god, baby, please– need y’so bad,” he gasped out against your lips.
michael's hands slid down your sides to hook firmly under your thighs. he hoisted you right up off the floor, your legs locking around his waist. keeping you anchored against his chest, he stumbled away from the door, his long legs moving quickly across the room towards the bed.
he leaned forward, laying you down flat on your back as he climbed over you, his frame crowding over yours. he was breathing like he’d been running, his fingers shaking as he hooked them into the hem of your shirt.
"take it off, baby. lemme see you," he rasped.
he yanked it up and over your head in one clumsy motion, tossing it onto the floor. you didn't wait either, your hands scrambling to take his shirt off, peeling the fabric off his shoulders.
you planted your open palms firmly against his bare chest and gave him a push, catching him off guard just enough to roll him over onto his back, shifting your weight so you were the one straddling his lap.
your hands flew down to your waist, quickly peeling your bottoms and underwear off your legs and kicking them away entirely.
sitting bare on top of him, you felt his throbbing cock pressing perfectly against your soaking core through his jeans.
“need to be inside you,” he rasped.
you reached down to unbuckle his belt and pop the button of his pants, shoving the denim down his hips just enough to let his length spring free. his cock was obscene – flushed dark, with veins raised under the skin, the tip slick with precum.
you leaned your weight forward, holding yourself up with your hands as you ground yourself over him, a slow slide from the base of his cock all the way to the wet tip.
the friction was dizzying.
the contrast of his searing heat rubbing directly against your sensitive, soaking folds felt so overwhelming, sending a wave of electricity to the pit of your stomach.
michael looked like he was losing it beneath you. his head rolled back into the pillow, his jaw locked tight as his chest heaved for air. he could feel every single ridge of his cock being squeezed and slicked by your wetness.
"baby, please... you're killing me," he choked out, his voice strained with desperation.
his fingers dug bruisingly deep into the flesh of your hips, his knuckles turning white as he completely lost his grip on his self-control. "i can't... i can't take it– need to feel you..."
before you could grind against him a third time, his large hands clamped down hard on your waist, halting your movement. with an upward thrust of his hips, he guided his tip and buried himself all the way inside you in one deep push.
your head snapped back, a loud, high-pitched moan ripping from your throat that michael quickly caught by throwing his hand over your mouth, his own body trembling violently as he filled you completely. he let out a shuddering groan against your neck, his eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy.
"y'have to be quiet, sweetheart" he choked out, his hips twitching inside you as he adjusted to the heat of your core.
the sensation of being buried deep was too much to handle.
a broken whine tore from his throat as his body took over, entirely overriding his brain.
he completely lost control of his hips, his lower body jerking up against yours in frantic, uncoordinated twitches. his cock pulsed within your gummy walls before he could even find a rhythm.
"can't– baby, i can't stop," he panted, his eyes completely blown out.
michael gripped your waist and pushed you backward, forcing you flat onto your back. you let out a squeal as his large hands slid down to hook under your knees, lifting your legs high and draping them over his shoulders.
he let out a high, pathetic mewl at how incredibly tight you felt from this angle, his face flushing a deep red.
he didn't waste another second.
gripping your hips for leverage, he began fucking into you, slamming his pelvis against yours with a frantic urgency.
the bedroom filled with a symphony of filthy noises. loud schlick, schlick, schlick sounds echoed with every thrust, his cock dragging a creamy ring of mixed precum and your own arousal out before plunging right back inside.
the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin was deafening. every single time he slammed flush against you, his pelvis hit perfectly against your clit.
both of you were miserably failing to muffle your noises. the force of his desperate ruts was so intense that the headboard began slamming violently against the wall.
any thought of staying quiet was completely forgotten. despite his own warning, michael was far too gone to care anymore, letting out loud, unbridled whines with every slam of his hips.
"ah... god, you're soakin' through the sheets, baby," he rasped. "milkin' me so hard... it's so wet, makin’ such a mess."
hearing those vulgar words come out of his usually polite mouth made a hot blush rise to your cheeks. a thrill shot through you, causing your walls to instinctively squeeze around him.
"m-mike, michael," you stammered out, your voice cracking, completely breathless as your head thrashed against the mattress. you were so overwhelmed by pleasure that you could barely mutter coherent words. "you feel so fucking good–"
the words dissolved into a high whine as he gave a particularly deep thrust right into your sweet spot.
it felt so heavenly, the pleasure was so intense, that hot tears slipped from the corners of your eyes and dripped down your temples.
his pace sped up even more, his curls damp with sweat as he looked down at you like you were his entire world.
"’m so close, michael, please," you whined, your hands tightly clawing at his bare shoulders.
michael let out a broken moan at your begging, a breathless sob tearing from his throat. he looked so overwhelmed – almost in pain from how good it felt.
"gonna give it all t'you, baby. every single drop," he choked out.
he didn't slow down for a single second. the headboard battered against the wall as he buried himself to the hilt.
michael went rigid after he gave one final thrust.
a high, broken cry tore from his throat, his head dropping onto your shoulder as his eyes squeezed shut.
the first rope of his cum shot out of him with a pulsing force, flooding your womb.
michael let out a trembling sob against your neck, his fingers digging bruisingly deep into your thighs as his cum spurt inside you in heavy ropes, painting your insides, filling every single fold and crevice until you were overflowing with his seed.
the volume of it felt endless, coating your walls and sending a wave of pleasure that triggered your own climax.
"baby, baby, baby," michael whimpered as his hips continued to twitch helplessly against yours.
he was spent, his chest heaving heavily against yours as he melted into you.
even as the spurts slowed, he didn't pull away.
he collapsed into the crook of your neck, his face buried deep as his skin burned hot. he let out small, shuddering breaths as the creamy mixture of his cum and your slick slowly began to leak out from between your thighs, cementing the mess you had made together.
michael shifted slightly, lifting himself up on his elbows just enough to look down. his gaze drifted to where you two were still joined, staring right at the thick white mixture slowly oozing out onto the sheets as he pulled out.
"you're so nasty, michael," you teased, though you couldn't take your eyes off it either.
michael huffs out a breathless laugh, biting his bottom lip as a deep blush rushes to his cheeks.
"you're lookin' too," he mumbled softly.
"but you looked first," you countered with a soft laugh, fingers gently tracing at the nape of his neck as he shook his head at you.
once the silence of the bedroom settled over you both, the house suddenly felt terrifyingly quiet.
michael shifted slightly, his cheek pressing against your shoulder. he blinked for a second, the fog in his brain clearing just enough for the stillness of the house to register.
"christ..." he breathed out. "do y'think they heard that?"
you let out a weak laugh, your hands playing with the ends of his hair. "michael, you literally slammed the bed into the wall for like fifteen minutes straight."
he raised his hands, hiding his face as his skin burned a bright red. "don't say that... oh, god, please don't say that. we're never going back downstairs."
───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───
sorry i always get carried away w/ sub!michael
also i edited this like 8 times n i got sick of rereading so if anything sounds off PLEASE let me know n ill take a look
tgs ◞ sexual tension, black fem reader, smut, soft dom michael, inexperienced reader, sub reader, michael getting a bit whiney and needy, praise, taken virginity, michael guiding reader
The heavy, humid air of the studio lounge always smelled faintly of expensive cologne, old leather, and the metallic tang of reel-to-reel tapes. It was past two in the morning. The rest of the engineering crew had packed up and left hours ago, leaving behind a graveyard of half-empty paper coffee cups, crumpled lyric sheets, and the quiet hum of the mixing console.
You sat on the edge of the oversized velvet sofa, a heavy binder resting on your lap. As his personal assistant, your job description was technically straightforward: track his schedule, manage his lyric folders, and ensure he actually ate something between twelve-hour vocal sessions. But over the last few months, the lines had blurred into something much heavier, something that made your chest tight every time the studio door clicked shut and left the two of you entirely alone.
Across the room, Michael stood near the soundboard. A few loose, glossy curls escaped to frame his jawline, shadowing his features under the low, amber track lighting. He was humming a bassline, his shoes clicking a rhythmic, syncopated beat against the hardwood floor as he listened to a playback of a vocal track.
You watched him. You couldn't help it. The rich, warm brown of your own hands trembled slightly against the edge of the binder. You had spent weeks observing the way he moved, the perfectionism that drove him, and the quiet, gentle authority he carried. But lately, there was a shift. A gravity.
Michael suddenly stopped humming. The track looped to a silent halt.
He didn't turn around immediately. Instead, he rested his long, slender hands on the edge of the mixing board, his head bowed. The silence in the room stretched, thick and suffocating. The tension between you two had been building for months—felt in the way his hand would linger on yours when you handed him a cup of hot water with honey, or how his voice would drop an octave, becoming thick and raspy, whenever the crowd cleared out.
Slowly, he turned his head, his dark, doe-like eyes locking onto yours from across the room. The sheer intensity in his gaze made your breath hitch.
"You're quiet tonight," Michael murmured, his voice a soft, velvety purr that vibrated straight down your spine.
"Just... organizing the notes for tomorrow’s session, Michael," you said, your voice a little too breathy, a little too tight. You looked down at the papers, desperately trying to focus on the typed lyrics to keep your heart from hammering out of your chest.
In your nervousness, you shifted on the couch to rearrange the heavy binders spread across the coffee table. You reached forward, leaning your body down to gather a stray stack of lyrics. The movement caused your skirt to ride up your thighs, exposing a generous length of your smooth, rich brown skin against the dark velvet of the sofa.
The rustle of paper ceased. From across the room, you felt his gaze instantly shift, sharpening.
Michael didn't answer right away. The sight of your bare thighs, the soft curve of your hips under the fabric, and the vulnerable position you were in completely shattered the carefully maintained wall of his professional restraint. He let out a sharp, barely audible intake of breath.
He began walking toward you. His movements were deliberate, slow, and predatory in the gentlest, most mesmerizing way possible. With every step he took closer to the couch, the air in the room seemed to thin out, leaving you lightheaded. You tried to pull your skirt down, your cheeks burning, but before you could, his shadow fell completely over you.
He stopped right in front of you, towering over where you sat. The scent of his perfume—something rich, musky, and distinctly him—enveloped your senses, making your stomach do flips. His gaze felt entirely unfiltered, stripping away any defense you had left.
"Don't," Michael whispered softly, tilting his head. He stepped closer, his knees brushing against yours, preventing you from fixing your clothes. His large, dark eyes tracked the expanse of your exposed skin before rising back up to lock onto yours. "Don't hide from me."
The contrast of his slim, dark trousers against your bare knees sent a jolt of electricity through you. "Michael, I'm just trying to finish up—"
"Are you really just organizing notes?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave, thick and demanding yet laced with an undeniable sweetness. He reached down, his slender hand gently gripping your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His thumb stroked your lower lip, parting it just a fraction. "Because I haven't been able to think about a single lyric all night. Not with you sitting right here."
The honesty of his words made you gasp. The sexual tension that had been building between you for months felt like a rubber band stretched to its absolute limit. It was agonizing.
"Michael..." you breathed, your hands coming up to rest tentatively on his thighs. The fabric of his clothes was warm from his body heat.
"Tell me what you want," he murmured, his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your cheek. "Tell me, sweetheart. I need to hear you say it."
"I want you," you whispered, the confession tearing out of you, raw and honest. "Please."
A small, satisfied smile touched his lips, but his eyes remained intensely dark, burning with a hunger that made your knees weak. "Good girl," he cooed softly.
He didn't rush. Michael was a perfectionist in everything he did, and it became instantly clear that he treated pleasure no differently. He slowly removed his jacket, letting it slide off his shoulders and onto the floor, leaving him in a simple, tight t-shirt that clung to the lean, muscular contours of his chest.
He sat down next to you on the couch, invading your space entirely. Before you could even process the proximity, his hands were at your waist, lifting you effortlessly. You gasped as he guided you to straddle his lap. Your thighs bracketed his hips, and you could feel the hard, undeniable ridge of his desire pressing firmly against your center through your clothes.
"Michael, I..." You froze, a sudden wave of panic and insecurity washing over you. You looked down, unable to hold his gaze, suddenly acutely aware of your own body, your own lack of experience. "I need to tell you something."
He placed two fingers under your chin, gently lifting your head back up. His expression was soft, completely devoid of any judgment. "What is it, beautiful? You can tell me anything."
"I... I haven't done this before," you confessed, your voice barely audible. Your cheeks burned. "I'm... I don't have experience. I'm inexperienced, Michael. I don't want to ruin it for you."
Michael stared at you for a long moment, his dark eyes softening so intensely it made your chest ache. A beautiful, tender smile spread across his face, and he let out a soft, breathy sigh. He reached up, gently cupping your face with both hands, his long fingers caressing your jawline.
"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice dripping with an overwhelming sweetness. "You could never ruin anything for me. Look at me." He waited until your eyes locked with his. "That makes you even more precious to me. Do you understand? I'm going to take such good care of you."
The sheer relief that washed over you was intoxicating. Michael leaned in, and finally, finally, his lips met yours.
The kiss was everything you had imagined and more. It started out agonizingly slow, his lips soft and pillowy as they molded against yours. He groaned softly into your mouth, his hands moving down your back, pulling you flush against his chest. The kiss deepened, becoming hungrier, his tongue sliding past your teeth to tangle with yours in a rhythm that made your head spin.
You whimpered, your hands tangling into the thick, soft curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. The friction of your bodies rubbing together was driving you insane.
"Ah, God, you feel so good already," Michael panted against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling sharply. "Let's get these clothes off you. I want to see you. All of you."
With gentle but firm commands, he guided you through shedding your clothes. His hands lingered on your bare shoulders, his fingers tracing the smooth, rich brown of your skin. When you were down to your underwear, you tried to cover yourself, suddenly self-conscious under the bright studio lights.
"Hey, no," Michael chided softly, his voice full of a gentle authority. He gently but firmly pulled your hands away from your body, pinning them to his chest. "Don't hide from me. You are absolutely breathtaking. Your skin is so beautiful, sweetheart. Let me look at you."
He worshipped your body with his eyes before leaning down to worship it with his lips. He kissed his way down your neck, finding the sensitive sweet spot right where your shoulder met your collarbone. You arched into his touch, letting out a loud gasp as his lips sucked gently on your skin.
"Michael, please," you whined, the sensation completely overwhelming your uninitiated senses.
"Shh, I've got you. Just breathe for me," he instructed, his voice a soft command. He slid his hands down to your hips, his long fingers digging into your flesh, grounding you.
He shifted, guiding you off his lap and onto the plush cushions of the sofa. He stood up for a brief moment, his eyes never leaving yours as he quickly rid himself of his clothing. Watching him strip away his layers revealed a body that was pure, lean muscle, sculpted from years of dancing. He was beautiful, and the sight of him fully aroused made your breath hitch.
When he settled back down over you, his weight was a comforting, solid warmth. He braced himself on his forearms, framing your head with his arms.
"Are you ready for me, sweetheart?" he whispered, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. "If it's too much, or if it hurts, you tell me right away, okay? I'll stop. I'm in control, but you tell me what you need."
"I'm ready," you whispered, your heart pounding. "I want it to be you."
Michael’s gaze flared with an intense, possessive heat. "It was always going to be me," he murmured darkly.
He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your wetness. You gasped, your thighs jerking outward as he began to stroke you gently, prepping your body. He was incredibly patient, using his thumb to circle your clitoris while inserting one, then two fingers inside you, stretching you gently.
"You're so tight, so sweet," Michael whimpered softly, his face burying into the crook of your neck. He was already getting impatient, his own desire reaching a boiling point. "God, you're so wet for me, girl. It's driving me crazy."
He aligned his length against your opening. He paused, looking down at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of intense lust and deep tenderness.
"Look at me, sweetheart. Keep your eyes on me," he commanded softly.
You locked your eyes onto his. Slowly, deliberately, Michael began to push inside you.
The initial stretch was overwhelming, a sharp pressure that made your eyes widen. You let out a small, pained whimper, your hands gripping his bicep tightly, your nails digging into his skin.
Instantly, Michael stopped. He didn't push any further, holding himself perfectly still. His face contorted into an expression of pure, agonized restraint. He let out a shaky, high-pitched whine, his chest heaving.
"Oh, God... shh, baby, I know. I know it hurts," Michael groaned, his voice strained and whiney as he fought his own urge to thrust. "You're so tight... it feels like heaven, sweetheart. Just breathe through it for me. Don't tense up. Relax your hips for Michael. Come on, girl, do it for me."
He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, showering you with affection to distract you from the sensation. He began to rock his hips in tiny, agonizingly slow circles, just enough to help your body acclimate to his size.
"That's it... just like that," he murmured, his voice dropping into that soft, dominant register that made you want to melt. "Open up for me, baby. You're doing so good."
As the sharp sting began to fade, replaced by a deep, throbbing ache that felt entirely too good, you let out a soft sigh, your hips tilting upward instinctively to meet him.
That small movement broke whatever restraint Michael had left.
With a low, ragged groan, he pushed the rest of the way inside you, burying himself deep within your warmth. The sensation was explosive. You let out a loud cry, your eyes fluttering shut as a wave of intense pleasure rippled through you.
"Ah, sweet girl, look at me!" Michael whined, his voice thick with unadulterated pleasure. He began to move, pulling back slightly before sliding back in, establishing a slow, deep, agonizingly perfect rhythm. "Open your eyes, look at what you're doing to me."
You forced your eyes open, meeting his hooded, dark gaze. Michael looked completely undone. His jaw was clenched, his head tilted back slightly as he let out soft, breathless gasps with every push. Sweat began to glisten on his collarbones, his loose curls bouncing slightly with his movements.
"You feel... oh my God, you feel incredible," Michael whined, his voice taking on a needy, desperate edge. He was experienced clearly, guiding your body exactly where he wanted it, but he was completely helpless against how good you felt around him. "You're squeezing me so tight... ah, damn, sweetheart."
He reached down, grabbing your thighs and hooking them over his shoulders, opening you up even deeper. The change in angle made him hit a spot deep inside you that made your entire body shake.
"Michael! Oh my god, Michael!" you cried out, your hands flying to his hair, holding onto him as your first orgasm began to threaten the edges of your consciousness.
"Yeah? Right there?" he panted, a smug but breathless smile crossing his face. He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, more urgent. The sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the quiet studio lounge, a primal, intimate soundtrack to your undoing. "Take it, baby. Let it go for me. I've got you."
He was guiding you through it, his hands keeping your hips locked in place as he pounded into you, delivering a pleasure so intense it felt spiritual.
"I'm coming, Michael, I can't—"
"Go ahead, girl, give it to me," he whimpered, his own voice cracking as he reached his limit. "Let me feel it. Squeeze me, baby, squeeze me!"
Your body tightened completely, the waves of a powerful, shattering orgasm crashing over you. You arched your back, a loud, uninhibited cry escaping your lips. The intense contraction of your walls around him was the final straw for Michael.
He let out a loud, high-pitched cry, his entire body going rigid. He buried himself as deep as he could possibly go inside you, his hips bucking rapidly as he came, filling you with his warmth. He let out a series of needy, whiney groans, his face burying into your neck as he shuddered against you, completely spent.
The silence of the studio returned, save for the sound of your tangled, heavy breathing.
Michael stayed heavy on top of you for a long moment, slowly rolling to the side but keeping you pulled flush against his chest. He wrapped his long arms around you, pulling a soft throw blanket over both of your bare bodies to keep you warm.
He was breathing softly against your hair, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your hip.
"You did so good, sweetheart," Michael whispered into the dark, his voice returning to that gentle, protective purr. He kissed the top of your head, holding you tighter. "My beautiful, sweet girl. I've got you."
⊱ I didn’t realize until halfway I forgot to reply to the request
mj religious angst is so good as someone whose religion has deeply shaped my life for better or for worse and i NEED it. a fic about him breaking free 😞 its as if im doing it too
tags ༯ black fem reader, sub michael, dom reader, hint of manipulation, taken virginity, p in v unprotected, michael being a jehovah witness, crying, praise, creampie, in place of gary Indiana, religion mentioned ⚘
The heavy July heat hung over Gary, Indiana like a damp wool blanket, pressing down on the asphalt of Jackson Street until the air itself seemed to shimmer. Inside your living room, the slow, rhythmic hum of a box fan sitting in the window did little to cool the room, mostly just shifting the warm air around and rustling the edges of the lace curtains.
You sat on the edge of your velvet couch, a glass of sweetened iced tea sweating in your hand, condensation rolling down your knuckles. You weren’t watching the television turning static in the corner. Your eyes were locked on the window, tracking the lone figure moving down the sidewalk.
It was Michael.
Everyone in the neighborhood knew him, of course, but lately, he had been coming around under a different pretense. Even on his rare days off from the grueling schedule of his skyrocketing music career, he wasn’t resting. He was dedicated, devout, and deeply conflicted. Clad in a crisp, short-sleeved white button-down shirt, dark slacks that hugged his lean thighs, and a neatly knotted black tie, he looked every bit the dedicated missionary.
He carried a small stack of watchtowers and a worn leather Bible pressed tightly against his chest, like a shield protecting him from the very world he was trying to save.
You had been watching him for months. You’d watched the way his curls caught the midwestern sun, the way his dark eyes cast downward with a heavy, innate shyness whenever someone spoke to him too sharply, and the way his long, elegant fingers gripped his books. But more than that, you noticed the secret, lingering glances he gave you whenever you happened to be out on the porch. There was a hunger in him—one he tried desperately to pray away, one that made his shoulders tense and his throat click whenever you caught his eye.
You were an experienced woman. You knew the look of a man who was starving, especially one who believed starving was a virtue.
As he neared your walkway, his pace slowed. He hesitated at the gate, his knuckles whitening around his Bible. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing sharply against his collar. He was fighting himself. You could see the internal war playing out in the rigid line of his back.
Smiling faintly, you set your tea down on the coaster, smoothed down the front of your silk sundress—a deep, rich maroon that contrasted beautifully against your rich brown skin—and walked to the front door before he could even find the courage to knock.
You pulled the screen door open with a soft creak. "Well, hello there, Michael. Aren’t you burning up out here?"
Michael jumped slightly, his wide, doe-like eyes snapping up to meet yours. A sudden, fierce flush crept up his neck, darkening his high cheekbones. "Oh! Uh... hello, Sister," he stammered, his voice dropping into that soft, breathless register that always made your stomach do a slow flip. He quickly cleared his throat, trying to find his footing, though his eyes darted nervously down to your collarbone before snapping back to your face.
"I—I was just... out in the neighborhood today. Sharing a few words of encouragement from the scriptures. It’s a beautiful day, isn't it?"
"It’s a hot day," you corrected gently, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe, deliberately letting the fabric of your dress shift. "Too hot to be walking these streets in a tie, Michael. Why don't you come inside for a minute? Get some shade. I just poured some iced tea."
His eyes widened, a flicker of sheer panic crossing his features, quickly followed by a desperate, longing vulnerability. He looked down at his scuffed loafers, then back up at you through the thick fringe of his eyelashes.
"Oh, no, I... I shouldn't impose. I have a few more blocks to cover before sundown, and—"
"Michael," you murmured, your voice dropping an octave, rich and commanding, yet dripping with a honeyed warmth. "Look at you. You’re sweating. Just a few minutes. I won't bite."
That did it. The subtle authority in your tone made his chest heave with a sudden, sharp breath. He licked his lips—a quick, nervous habit—and nodded dumbly. "Just... just for a moment, then. Thank you."
You stepped aside, allowing him to pass. As he walked by, the scent of him hit you—an intoxicating mix of expensive cologne, fresh laundry starch, and the faint, clean scent of his own skin. You shut the heavy wooden door behind him, turning the lock with a distinct, heavy click.
Michael froze at the sound. He stood in the center of your living room, looking incredibly small despite his height. He held his Bible to his chest like body armor, his eyes darting around the softly lit room. The blinds were drawn, casting long, amber shadows across the hardwood floors. It felt intimate. It felt like a trap, and they both knew he had walked right into it willingly.
"Sit down, Michael. Make yourself comfortable," you said, walking over to the small kitchen alcove to fetch him a glass.
"Thank you," he whispered. He didn't sit on the couch; instead, he perched himself on the very edge of an armchair, keeping his knees pressed tightly together, his posture stiff as a board.
You returned with a tall, frosty glass of tea, the ice clinking musically against the glass. As you handed it to him, you made sure your fingers brushed against his. They were warm, slightly trembling. Michael gasped softly at the contact, nearly dropping the glass before catching it with both hands.
"You're so tense," you noted, moving to stand right in front of him. You didn't sit down. You stood over him, looming over his seated form, projecting an easy confidence that you knew was making his pulse race. "Is preaching the word really that stressful?"
"No, it's... it's a blessing," he choked out, taking a quick, desperate gulp of the tea. A single drop escaped the corner of his lips, trickling down his chin. Before he could raise his hand to wipe it, you reached down, your thumb catching the drop of liquid. Your bare skin against his jaw made him shudder violently. His eyes fluttered shut, his head tilting back just a fraction into your touch, an instinctive, submissive reaction he couldn't control.
"Michael," you whispered, your thumb tracing the soft line of his jawline, feeling the rapid, frantic fluttering of his pulse against your palm. "You’ve been looking at me for weeks. Don't think I haven't noticed."
His eyes snapped open, filled with a mixture of profound guilt and agonizing desire. "I... I haven't... I mean, I shouldn't..." He stammered, his voice cracking. He tried to pull away, but it was a half-hearted attempt. His body was betraying him, locking in place under your touch. "It's a sin to harbor... thoughts like that. Unclean thoughts. I've been praying on it, I swear I have..."
"Have you?" You smiled, a slow, knowing expression. You took the glass of tea from his unresisting hands and set it on the table beside him. Then, slowly, deliberately, you straddled his lap, settling your hips against his.
Michael let out a high, choked sound in the back of his throat, his hands flying up to grip your waist to push you away, but the moment his palms met the soft, warm skin of your hips, his fingers curled into the silk of your dress instead. He was trembling so hard you could feel it vibrating through his entire frame.
"Please," he whimpered, his head dropping against your shoulder, his forehead resting against your collarbone. He smelled like pure temptation. "Please, don't do this to me. I'm not strong enough. You don't know... you don't know how hard it is."
"I know exactly how hard it is," you murmured, shifting your weight just enough to feel the stiff, rigid proof of his arousal pressing hard against your thigh through his trousers. He groaned, a deep, pathetic sound of pure surrender, his grip tightening on your hips. "You've been holding it all in, haven't you? Being the good boy. Doing what everyone expects of you."
"Yes," he sobbed out, a tear finally escaping his eye and wetting the skin of your shoulder. "I want to be good. I want to be righteous. But I look at you... and I forget the scriptures. I forget everything."
"Good," you whispered, reaching down to cup his chin, forcing his face up so he had to look at you. His large eyes were swimming with tears, his lips parted and trembling, completely at your mercy. He looked so beautiful like this—stripped of his stardom, stripped of his rigid religious armor, just a young man desperate to be handled, desperate to give up control. "Forget all of it, Michael. Just for today. Let me take care of you."
"You... you promise?" he whispered, his voice entirely devoid of his usual performing strength, reduced to a fragile, pleading plea. "You won't... you won't tell anyone? If they found out..."
"Shh," you silenced him, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his full lips. He gasped into the kiss, his mouth opening instantly, practically begging for you to take more. He tasted sweet, like the sugar from the tea, but underneath it was a fierce, untapped heat. "This is just between us. You're safe here. You don't have to be in charge. Just let go."
A shuddering breath left his lungs, and with it, the last of his resistance shattered. His head fell back against the cushion of the chair, his arms dropping limply to his sides, his palms open in a gesture of total, absolute submission.
"Okay," he whispered, a tear rolling down into his temple. "Okay. Whatever you want. Just... please, make me forget."
You smiled down at him, your hands moving to the knot of his black tie. You untied it with slow, agonizing deliberation, tossing it to the floor. Michael watched you with a dazed, intoxicated expression, his chest heaving as you unbuttoned his white shirt, one button at a time, revealing the smooth, golden-brown skin of his chest. Beneath your fingertips, his heart was hammering like a trapped bird.
"Look at you," you purred, leaning down to press your lips to the hollow of his throat, right where his pulse was racing. Michael let out a weak whimper, his hands twitching against his sides, wanting to touch you but clearly waiting for permission.
"Can I... can I hold you?" he pleaded softly, his voice trembling. "Please?"
"You can hold my waist, Michael. But you don't move until I tell you to. Understood?"
"Yes... yes, ma'am," he choked out, the honorific slipping out of him naturally, a testament to how deeply he was sinking into his submissive state. His hands wrapped around your waist, remarkably gentle, his long fingers anchoring you to him as if you were his only lifeline in a stormy sea.
You unbuckled his belt, the metallic clink sounding incredibly loud in the quiet room. Michael closed his eyes, his breathing growing shallow and ragged as you slid his slacks and underwear down his long, lean legs, leaving him completely exposed to you. He was fully erect, a sharp contrast to the soft, weeping mess he was turning into above the waist.
You reached down, your warm palm cupping him, stroking him up the length of his shaft. Michael let out a loud, high-pitched gasp, his hips arching off the chair instinctively before he remembered your rule and froze, a look of pure agony and ecstasy tearing across his face.
"Ah! Oh God... please," he cried out, his knuckles turning white where they gripped your dress. "It's too much... it feels too good..."
"You like that, Michael? You like me touching you?" You asked, your thumb rubbing over the crown of his length, catching the bead of moisture gathering there.
"I love it... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I love it," he sobbed, the guilt still fighting with his pleasure, making the experience all the more intense for him. "I've thought about your hands on me every single night... please, don't stop."
"I'm not going to stop," you whispered, shifting your hips. You reached down, guiding him to your opening. You were slick and ready for him, the heat between your thighs matching the sweltering Indiana afternoon.
Slowly, you lowered yourself down onto him, taking his length inside you inch by inch.
Michael’s eyes flew open, his pupils dilated so much they were almost entirely black. A long, ragged groan tore from his throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated release. His head thrashed to the side, his teeth biting into his lower lip so hard it nearly bled as you sank all the way down, burying him inside your warmth.
"Oh... oh my... heavens," he gasped, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He felt so big inside you, so hard, yet he was completely immobile, waiting for your next move, his body trembling under the sheer weight of the sensation.
"Hold on to me, Michael," you commanded softly, beginning to move your hips in a slow, rolling grind.
He let out a weak cry, his arms wrapping tightly around your back, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He was weeping openly now, the overwhelming sensory overload shattering his fragile composure. Every time your hips came down against his, he let out a soft, pathetic hitching breath, his body twitching beneath yours.
"You're so good for me, Michael," you praised him, speeding up the pace just a bit, feeling the friction building, the intoxicating heat of the afternoon wrapping around you both like a second skin. "So sweet, so quiet."
"I want to be good for you," he whimpered into your skin, his lips brushing against your neck with every word. "I want to please you. Tell me what to do... please, tell me what to do."
"Just take it," you whispered, your movements becoming more urgent, harder, driving him deeper into the cushion of the chair. "Just let me love you, Michael."
The word love seemed to undo him completely.
He gave up any remaining semblance of restraint. He didn't try to take control; instead, he just rode the waves of pleasure you were giving him, his voice rising in a series of soft, melodic whimpers and gasps that filled the room. He was a submissive mess in your arms, completely unraveled, his mind entirely consumed by the feeling of your body sliding against his.
The climax hit him suddenly, a violent tremor racking his entire body. His grip on your waist tightened to bruising levels as his eyes rolled back.
"I'm coming... oh God, I'm sorry, I can't hold it—!" he cried out, his voice cracking with emotion.
"Let it go, Michael. Give it to me," you ordered.
With a final, desperate sob, Michael arched his back, throwing his head back as he ejaculated powerfully inside you, his body pulsing in long, deep waves of pure release. You rode him through his climax, the intense contractions of his release triggering your own, sending you crashing over the edge right along with him. You collapsed against his chest, your breath hot and ragged against his skin, as the room settled back into the quiet hum of the box fan.
For a long time, neither of you moved. Michael’s arms remained wrapped tightly around you, his chest heaving as he slowly came down from the high. The silence of the room was heavy, thick with the scent of sex and sweat.
Then, the quiet sniffling began.
You lifted your head, looking down at him. Michael was staring up at the ceiling, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, tracking down into his damp hair. The crushing weight of his guilt had returned, swift and merciless, the moment the pleasure faded.
"Hey," you whispered softly, reaching up to wipe his tears with your thumb. "Look at me."
He shook his head miserably, trying to turn his face away. "I'm a hypocrite," he whispered, his voice broken and thick with shame. "I have the holy scriptures in my hands, and I... I did this. I'm supposed to be setting an example. What am I going to tell them? What am I going to tell God?"
You didn't scold him. You knew his world, knew the heavy burden of expectations placed on his young shoulders from every angle—his family, his faith, his fans. You smoothed his damp curls back from his forehead, your touch tender and grounding.
"Michael, listen to me," you said firmly but gently, forcing him to meet your gaze. "You are human. You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders every single day. God knows your heart. He knows you're tired."
He looked at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable, desperately searching your face for condemnation and finding none. "You... you don't think I'm bad?"
"I think you're beautiful," you murmured, kissing his forehead, then his cheek, and finally his soft, bruised lips. "And I think you needed this. There is no shame in wanting to be held, Michael. There is no sin in letting someone take care of you when you spend your whole life taking care of everyone else."
A long, shuddering sigh left his body, the tension finally draining out of him completely. He pulled you down against his chest again, burying his face in your hair. He didn't say anything else, but the way his fingers gently stroked your back told you everything you needed to know.
The midwestern sun began its slow descent, casting long, red-gold shadows through the blinds, but in the quiet safety of your living room, the young missionary finally found his peace.
an: hiii, i hope you guys enjoy my debut post! feel free to leave comments and requests!
~for my new friend @tlcfrmmike
you let out an exasperated huff of air as you flip onto your back for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. no matter how much you turned and adjusted, you couldn't seem to find a position that was comfortable.
the bedroom is swallowed in darkness, save from the angry red numbers glowing 3:14 from the alarm clock and the pale moonlight spilling through the window. both serving as cruel reminders of how well into the night it is—and just how awake you are.
images of the two of you kissing just hours ago keep replaying in your head, keeping you alert and tormented. how he cupped your face in his hands, so firm and sure of himself. it's like you can still feel the warmth of his hand on your cheek. taunting, mocking you, filling your body with a familiar throb as you try to find the relief sleep refuses to grant you.
with another restless sigh, you turn toward your sleeping lover.
moonlight stretches across the room, washing over michaels features with a soft silver glow. his face lies peaceful, completely void of stress and exhaustion that has plagued him recently. his lips rest parted, quiet snores slipping past every so often. messy curls are strewn across his forehead, and his bare chest rises and falls in a slow, steady rhythm. even in sleep, he never misses a beat.
you've seen him like this a hundred times before, yet the sight of him never fails to undo you. the ache in your chest never fails to be relentless; as though loving him has become something your body physically carries.
God, just simply looking at him is fucking you up.
you tuck your chin inward and shut your eyes, clamping your thighs together as heat pools at your lower stomach and another throb pulses further below. and for a second, you almost let yourself get lost in it, letting the quiet intimacy of being beside him become enough, before the sight of his peaceful expression pulls you back.
a wave of guilt sours your mouth almost instantly. here he is, finally getting some well-deserved rest and you're lying beside him all horned up like a silly teenager. it made you ashamed of yourself, but you just couldn't help it.
michael’s been so busy lately. ever since tour started, his life has been consumed by never-ending obligations. between rehearsals, performances, endless interviews, and a schedule that never seems to slow down, he’s completely worked himself to the bone. he barely has time to sleep, let alone take care of his own needs, and there’s been so little of him left over for you. you know he’s exhausted, and you understand he’s doing the best he can, but that doesn’t stop the ache of missing him. it doesn’t stop you from craving the closeness you haven’t had in weeks, or from wanting the attention and affection that have been pushed aside by everything else demanding his time.
you’ve tried to deal with your urges on your own when he’s away, but there’s only so much your fingers can provide. your body desperately needed michael. it's been nothing short of torture.
and yet, you couldn't have been more proud of him. michael loved what he did with every piece of himself, and it showed. he never settled, never cut corners, always searching for ways to be better than he was yesterday. perfectionism was woven into everything he touched, and while it often left him exhausted, he believed it to be the most rewarding. it was one of the things you admired most about him, and also why you found it hard to be upset with him when he's away-- because you knew he wasn't choosing to leave you. he was chasing a dream that he loved with every fiber of his being.
there's something so undeniably sexy about how he handled it all.
your eyes drift back to the red digits slowly passing by. racking your brain on ways to fall asleep when all you want to do is wake michael and have him keep you company. you flop onto your back, disturbing the stillness in the room and sending a ripple through the bed.
michael shifts from the disruption, eyelids slowly squeeze before fluttering open, heavy with sleep. turning tiredly, he glances at you looking at the ceiling.
'baby...you're still awake?' his question cuts through the silence, voice thick with sleep and rasp; lord, you think you might've soaked through your nightgown.
'oh mike, i didn't mean to wake you. go back to sleep, baby.' regardless if this is what you wanted all along, his rest is something you refuse to take from him. you know how hard he struggles with falling asleep, how rare it is for him to have a full night of peace, and he needs all the rest he can get-- especially with his big show at Wembley tomorrow night.
he ignores you, sliding his arms around your waist and tugging you close to his chest. his nose buries into your curls, softly inhaling the floral sweetness of your jasmine shampoo from yesterday's wash day. your back settles against his front as your ass nestles against the crotch of his pajama pants.
'can't sleep?' the vibrations from his chest rumble your back. you hum, backing your ass against him, so desperate it's humiliating. but you just want to be as close to him as possible. if it was up to you, you'd live in his skin.
michael's breath hitches in your ear, feeling your ass gently rub against his member. his thumbs brush gently along your sides through the silk of your nightgown, the fabric bunching beneath his hands as he gathers you closer until he's completely curled himself around you.
you tilt your head back, resting against his shoulder and giving in to the warmth he provided. michael lowers his head, peppering little kisses and soft kitten licks along your throat, feeling your pulse jump on his lips as he lightly sucks in various spots. enough suction to leave a red blotch but not enough to bruise.
the air between you feels alive, charged with intensity that makes every touch, every breath, every lick feel too real. the hairs on your neck rise as goosebumps ripple across your skin; like you're painfully aware of everything around you and within you. the ache coursing through your cunt so intense, it's almost unbearable to handle. the grinding on his cock never ceasing, only escalating when you feel him lightly buck back at you.
michael's hands release the material and slide underneath it, exploring every bare piece of skin he could touch. fully aware of there being nothing under your nightie, he rubs his nose against your temple, reveling in how soft you feel. '...michael, please baby...' you beg, entirely at his mercy.
his fingertips graze up your thighs and against your navel before slowly dipping between your thighs, his middle finger easily slipping into your folds with little effort. the slick that's completely soaked your cunt and inner thighs, paints a sluggish smile on his face, and he lets out a breathy laugh. no wonder you can't sleep. he could only imagine the throb that's been keeping you wide awake, if you're wet like this. he feels a little bad as he wasn't aware of your state. soaked and horny right beside him while he slept. probably wanting to touch and have your way with him.
'oh sweet girl, why didn't you just let me know you wanted some dick.' his voice laced with disbelief, genuinely taken aback that you'd rather lie there suffering than wake him. he's told you countless times to wake him whenever you needed him. and secretly, somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd hoped that one day you would.
embarrassment overtakes your body. that's easier said than done. waking michael up just so he can fuck you through the mattress seemed self-centered. you shake your head at his words. 'i don't like waking you for stupid things like that. you need to rest.'
michael scoffs at your admission, too tired to properly scold you sometimes you're so stubborn for no reason--hardheaded and always so sure you know what's best for everyone. why can't you just do what he tells you to do? or better yet, do what you know you've been wanting to do?
you feel him turn on his back with you still lying in his arms but now on his chest. he shifts upwards in bed until his back is resting against the headboard, you nuzzled between his legs. he slides the bottom of your nightgown up, high enough to expose your bare cunt, the moonlight illuminating the arousal that's seeping from your lips.
your legs spread wider as michael uses his feet to push your ankles apart, placing his middle and ring finger on your clit and slowly circles. a slow, agonizing pace with a delicious amount of pressure, consumes your clit. the sensation makes your hips jut in his hand, needing more but adjusting to what he's giving you for now.
his lips graze the shell of your ear, breath hot and uneven. 'when you want dick, ask for it. no matter what 'mdoing, ya' understand?' michael says softly, pulling his hand away to deliver a sharp smack to your cunt. a quiet splash echoes through the room when he makes contact with you before continuing to rub your clit. a yelp tears through your throat, the sting producing more slick to slide out and downwards, towards your asshole. you're pretty sure the sheets are sticky with your slick.
‘yes-s baby’ he grunts in approval, swirling his fingers around the nub before dipping them into your entrance, burying them until the bottom of his palm is flat against your clit.
it’s as if he’s stolen all the air in the room. his fingers, so long and filling, kissing the tip of your cervix as he begins to lightly pump in and out. a gasp escapes you as your back arches off his chest, trying to escape the sudden intrusion, hands reaching michael’s thighs for support.
it's been so long since you've had michael, it feels like finally eating after years of starving. every touch leaves you greedier than the last, desperate for another taste before it can be taken away again. michael wraps his free arm across your breasts, pulling you back and trapping you against him as he increases his pace. your head falls to his shoulder, surrendering yourself to his attack on your cunt.
this is the feeling you’ve been dying for. the feeling of being stuffed so full, you have no choice but to take everything he's giving you. your body feels like it's on fire, hips bucking every time his fingers slip back into the warmth of you. 'wow mama, you're doing so good.'
your whines fall into michael’s ear from his praise, encouraging him to give you more. he grabs your left hand with his free one, bringing your hand down and pressing four fingers against yourself before rubbing.
'oh fuck!' the words fly from your mouth in such shock. it's like you're experiencing his touch for the first time from how your body reacts to him. he guides your hand, delivering harsh circles to your cunt as he drives his fingers in and out. it's everything you could want and more.
michael watches, completely mesmerized, as you begin to fuck yourself onto the both of your fingers. it's so pathetic how greedy you become when you go a few weeks without cock. he could give you every inch of him and you'd still beg for more.
'look at you, so impatient. you want me?' he teases lightly, slowing all movement on your cunt, wanting you to beg for it. you nod in a daze, willing to do anything if it meant you'd get to take him. 'oh baby please' moaning as he presses hard on your clit, circling the nub before slowing down again.
'pl-lease mikey, i can't go on much longer.' you weakly let out. michael kisses your shoulder, a smile grazing your skin. you knew he loved when you begged--when your fate was placed in his hands for him to decide what comes next. you're putty in his hands and he's going to stretch and mold you, however he sees fit.
michael completely separates from your flower, tapping your thigh as a signal to move off him. 'hop on top, pretty girl.'
you turn your head, eyes meeting with one another for the first time since he's been awake and take in his appearance. his hair is disheveled from your tugging, and his eyes are wide with need. he needs you.
wasting no time, you hop on top of his lap, slipping the silk over your head, letting your breasts fall from the fabric. michael's eyes fall on your brown areolas, mouth watering at the sight of your perked nipples. he leans forward, enveloping one in his warm mouth. you shudder at the way his tongue rolls your nipple, lightly tugging with his teeth and letting it snap back. you lightly grind against his clothed cock, smearing yourself all over the bulge threatening to bust through the fabric. michael lifts his hips up, just enough to slide his pants down right below his balls and free himself.
you honestly never get use to the sight of him. his cock was slightly curved near the top, long and thick enough to where he needs both of your hands to properly give him a hand job. his tip, fat and resembling a mushroom tip, has a thin piece of skin covering the head, just barely. and thick, juicy vein running from underneath the tip to the base of his balls. your favorite route to trace on him.
immediately, your hand wraps around his cock, pumping lightly as strings of pre-cum dribble from his tip to the curly bush that resides at his base. it was such a sight for sore eyes. michael lolls his head back against the headboard with a quiet thud, finally feeling some relief to his raging hard on.
‘oh yes sweet girl, just like that.’ he whispers, loving the way your hand twists when you get to his tip, smearing all his fluid around. his words go straight to your cunt as you position yourself over him, slowly gliding his head across your slit. michael sucks in a sharp breath as he feels you pop his tip inside, haven't felt you in some time, his hands come to your hips to steady yourself over him.
you wrap your hand around the back of his neck for support and slowly sink down, your hole eating every inch he has to offer. michael’s hands tighten around your hips as he adjusts to the warmth that surrounds all his senses. he doesn't move or guide you, just holds you like he needs some kind of anchor to this very moment. it's so tight, he thinks you might slurp the skin right of his cock.
‘yessss.’ you drag out, reaching about half-way down before feeling that sharp stretch. it’s been a while since you’ve taken big boy, forgetting just how full he makes you feel every time. but man does this make waiting very worth it.
you begin to bounce, resting your other hand over his heart as you find your rhythm. michael watches you with hazy eyes, entranced with the way your tits bounce and how your head swings back in complete euphoria. he loves when you lose yourself because of him, just this image alone makes him want to spill deep within you.
'that's right minnie, use me.' he urges, driving his hips upward lightly to meet with your bounces. every push of his hips, helps your cunt swallow more of him up, stretching wider as you near the base of his cock. tightening your grip on his neck, you push his head down till he's in line with your cunt consuming him, needing him to witness such acts. to remind him how he can never go that long with being buried inside you again.
you inhale and force yourself to bottom out, puffy lips sitting on his curls and balls, his tip kissing your cervix. he's giving you heaven and all you can do is flex around him as you try to handle the intense stretch. michael moans loudly, watching as you suck him up and hold him captive, the interaction so obscene it makes him shiver in delight.
'dear God,' he cries out, bucking up ever so slightly. it takes a few seconds for you to adjust to his size, for your walls to remember him before the intense feeling quickly evolves into great pleasure.
'mmm, mickey,' you slur, already cock-drunk and he hasn't even fucked you yet. you aren't ashamed though, if anything, you could care less how starved you seemed. your body knew better than to resist the way it yearned for michael.
squelches coming from between you, bounce off the walls as you start to ride him. it's like music to your ears. the steady smack of your cunt making contact with his soaked balls makes your belly twist into one big knot. michael grunts, the noises so lewd, he attempts to think of anything but this very second. the show tomorrow night, how he found you guys the perfect place to build your forever home, but all he can focus on is the death grip you have on him.
'oh bub, it's been too long.' you say breathlessly, increasing your pace, weeks of sexual frustration pouring out into every motion you deliver. his breathy gasps fill your ears in response, both of you forgetting just how good you feel to one another. you lean forward, mashing michael's face to your chest, wanting to feel him everywhere. you make sure to grind against him when you slide down before popping back up, just the way he likes it.
michael sucks on the swell of your breasts, trying to muffle all the whimpers you're drawing from him. he feels like he's edging the brink of insanity. you're invading every logical thought in his head. no longer capable of deciphering what's reality, just what you're giving him. reaching behind you, you grab his balls and give them a nice squeeze, gently fondling them as you watch michael’s expression morph into complete terror. ‘no, no, please stop.’ he begs, clenching his stomach, trying to keep his load in.
so much, all at once, is going to make him cum too quickly. every squeeze from your hand brings him one step closer, he wanted to wait! attempting to flee your grasp, michael starts to slide down the headboard and onto the bed, lying flat on his back with you on top. he digs his heels in the mattress, wraps his arms around your waist and does the only thing he can think of. he holds you down and starts fucking you from below.
his thrusts are sharp and intense, a different pace from the strokes you were doing. it rendered you completely speechless. the way he just shoves his way through every available space, leaving nowhere for you to run. his firm grasp weighs you down, making sure you’re right there, waiting to receive him when he returns. your whines transforming into pornographic moans as he has his way with you. ‘didn’t i tell you t’use me?’ removing one of his arms to spread an ass cheek, helping him stuff you to the brim. ‘why can’t you just listen, huh?’ he grits out.
your head falls into his neck, overwhelmed with the plethora amount of ecstasy taking over. you babble incoherent words back, so mind fucked you can’t do anything but let him ruin you. its only fair, you woke him up. the knot in your stomach getting tighter as you feel a familiar surge of bliss get intense. you clench around him, trying to keep it at bay.
‘mm- god. is minnie’s brain going mushy?’ he coaxes you, rhythm stuttering as he nears his own release as well, the noises you make do him no favors, making it impossible to keep himself together. you cry and blubber, words slipping further and further away, what's left is only primal instinct. tears slip from your eyes, and your cunt starts squeezing uncontrollably. ‘oh mama, go ahead. i feel you-u.. oh fuck’
its like a rubber band snaps inside your stomach. you feel yourself spray all over michael, white-hot bliss paralyzing you, as he continues to thrust upwards, fucking you through your orgasm. you can’t stop the spasms from overtaking your destroyed flower, your gummy walls provoking michael to spew himself deep within your womb. a wail tearing through his throat, eyes clamped shut, as he buries himself till he physically can't anymore, filling you nice and full of his seed.
your body goes limp, feeling him spurt long ropes of cum that don’t seem to end past the point of no return. michael holds you tenderly, thrusting every time you pulse around his cock, convinced you’re trying to milk him of everything he's got. ‘good girl, baby. you took me so well,' he whispers into your hair.
once you've got your bearings and he's softened all the way, michael shifts his hips to where he slips from your sloppy hole, slow and careful. you wince at the removal, your walls, who've grown accustomed to his cock, suctioning him in for a second before releasing him and all your mixed fluids.
thick globs ooze from yourself, sliding down your clit, to splatter against michael's lower stomach. you clench around nothing, trying to hold all his offerings inside; not wanting a drop to go to waste but it's useless, there's just too much. michael smiles and rolls you off him, lying you on the mattress and wrapping you in his sweat slicked arms.
for the rest of the night, michael keeps you close, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as his fingers trace patterns across your skin. leaving a lingering warmth wherever they wandered. eventually, the moon gives way to the sun, its golden rays spilling through the window to bathe the room-- and your entangled bodies-- in gentle light.
you listen attentively to the slow 'thrum' of his heart, memorizing each steady beat that kept him alive, letting its familiar rhythm lull you into a deep, much-needed slumber that had eluded you all night.
plz can u write an entire lil thing abt mj by the fireplace asking the kids what to name their brotherrr 🥺 just imagine they say his name and mj's pretty eyes swell and he's like "oh he's kicking up a storm now i think that's the one" and hugs them so tight bc his babies r so smart ☹️☹️
this is so cute!!!! im imagining him and the kiddies singing to his baby bump too :((( i will definitely write some fluff of mama mj soon anon! 🫂
𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 : mature era mj! nipple play, lactation, feminization, michael has a vagina! and breasts!, x reader/unnamed character, penetration, breeding talk, not proofread!
michael has always felt insecure about his breasts.
usually an omegas tits would puff up with milk during pregnancy to accommodate their newborn pups.
his, however, seemed to swell whenever he was incredibly aroused. he'd often come home with small stains on his shirt from the leakage after recieving spicy texts from his boyfriend, embarrassment following him like a rain cloud.
and they would hurt, his delicate fingers would press around the tender skin for relief and he'd sigh at the lukewarm milk that trickled down his plush stomach.
but that was before his boyfriend became his mate, his alpha.
his alpha loves everything about michael, including his swelling breasts.
the couple barely had time to be intimate anymore with the kids around 24/7 and michael's full attention to their needs. but when they would go to their grandmother's for the day, they just had to indulge on the opportunity. . .
in the blink of an eye, the horny couple moved to the couches, leaving a trail of their clothes behind.
michael is kneeled on the couch, slender thighs spread open with need. he moaned and pulled his laced panties to the side, exposing his open folds lubricated with slick. his alpha growled and used two fingers to tease at the entrance that was throbbing, begging to be filled. "what do you want baby? i'll give you anything you need once i hear the words" he grunted while pumping his throbbing knot.
"alpha please! please fill my cunt with your knot, breed me once more..." michael babbled, drool falling from his pink lips.
his alpha hummed and rubbed his knot around in the omega's natural lubricant, slapping the older's lips with the head of his cock to savor the sticky substance. michael's head was shaking in need, saying his alpha's name followed by, "breed me...breed me..please.." under his breath like a mantra.
the younger finally lined up with michael's gaping entrance. he gently pushed inside the plush walls, michael's back arching immediately at the intrusion. once he entered fully, before moving, the alpha pulled him off to change the position.
now, with michael sitting facing his alpha he sank down onto his knot once more. he bounced with fervor and need as his alpha also thrusted up into him.
michael moaned softly against his alphas lips as they kissed. the perfect dance of tongues causing a fire to erupt in his core. the omega can already feel his breasts getting heavy with nectar, mewling at the uncomfortable feeling and need for milking.
the omega's spotted arms were around the younger's neck, his perfect breasts bobbing up and down with him.
the alpha was mesmerized.
his omega's breasts were heavy and puffy, nipples an angry red. lovely milk was dripping from his orifice, begging to be drank.
the alpha did not waste any time bringing michael's tit into his mouth as he gently massaged the other. warm milk flooded onto his tongue, liquid falling between his fingers on the other. michael gasped in relief, letting his needy whines echo through the house.
the alpha lapped at the tender bud before giving the same attention to the other sore breast. goosebumps littered the omega's arms from the pleasure and alleviation.
his alpha gripped at michael's thighs, lifting the omega to lay onto the couch, one leg hooked over his shoulder as the younger plunged deeper into michael's greedy hole.
the alpha moved one of michael's hands to his own stomach, "feel angel, feel how deep my knot fills you. if i burst your stomach will fill with my seed and fertilize your womb. is that what you want? to be pregnant with my pups again, so that your fans know you're a cock dumb omega?"
michael's cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the thought of all the fans seeing his swollen stomach after just giving birth a year ago. his body reacted before his slack mouth could, breasts swelling once more at the mere thought.
"alpha i want to be stuffed with your pups, please..nah!" michael couldnt even finish his sentence when he felt his alpha's knot burst, locking them together tightly. the omega came at the feeling of fullness, a high pitched yell escaping at the new tightness in his pussy.
the omega smiled contently, belly full and satiated. he shifted to lay on top of his loving alpha who peppered his face with kisses and kissed around his now bruised breasts. "guess we'll have to tell the kids about baby number four..." michael joked with a giggle and looked up at the younger, shifting his hips to get comfortable.
his alpha hissed due to the tenderness of his knot and replied snarkily, "well if you dont be careful we might have triplets with how many times i'll knot you"
the omega only blushed and shifted his hips again as much as he could, sealing his fate for the rest of the day. . .
ㅤ𓏵♡ㅤ .⋆ . ֗ ۪ . ׂ ˚
im hoping to lengthen these as i continue practicing my writing! lmk what you think >< i love needy mj~ . . . effie
