Synopsis: After being kept in his chambers for so long, you finally decide to willingly give in and show EO how human biology works!
Genre: Sub!Captain EO x Dom!AA male reader
WC: 1.4K ⚠࣪ Ë
The observation chamber hums low and steady, the only light a soft amber glow along the floor seams. You're sitting on the edge of the examination table, bare feet dangling, when the door slides open without a sound. Captain EO steps inside, his white uniform and multicoloured catching the dim light in scattered flickers.
EO's luminous eyes tracked the data-stream on a floating panel, not you. Never you.
"Respiratory rhythm unchanged," EO murmured, breathy, almost to himself. "Epidermal temperature elevated zero-point-three degrees from baseline."
He just stands there, scanner in hand, those glittering eyes fixed on you with that same hungry curiosity you've grown used to. It used to make your jaw clench. Now it almost makes you smile.
"You gonna stand there all night?"
His mouth curves, just barely. He moves closer, and you don't tense. That's the thing that surprises you both-- your shoulders stay loose, your hands stay open on your thighs. He notices.
You watch his face as he watches the readings, his lips parting, his breath catching.
His fingertips graze your forearm-- light, deliberate, tracing the texture of your brown skin. He goes still. That complete stillness he does when something fascinates him beyond words.
"You've scanned me a hundred times," you say, your voice low in the quiet. "If you want to understand what I am, you have to look."
You closed your hand around EO's wrist. The captain's pulse jumped under your thumb, right where the glove ended and warm skin began. you held it there, pressed firmer, and lifted his gaze until EO's luminous eyes finally met his.
The bioprobe scanner beeped, ignored, its amber light strobing unanswered across the dark. EO's lips parted. His gloved fingers spread, trembling, over the beat.
"What is this signal?"
You didn't answer with words. You let go of EO's wrist, reached back, and pulled your shirt over your head. The cool recycled air of the observation bay hit your bare chest, tightening your skin, raising the hair along your arms. The shirt dropped to the deck.
"Your-- " EO's voice cracked. "You removed the coveringâŚ"
"Yeah," You took EO's gloved hands and worked the fingers free, peeling the leather off one hand, then the other. The gloves joined the shirt on the floor. EO's bare hands were warm, the palms slightly damp, the fingers long and fine-boned and trembling, worse than before. You pressed them flat against your own chest.
EO's breath stopped.
"This is skin," you said matter-of-factly, holding EO's hands there, letting the heat sink in. "Feel that?"
EO's fingers curled into the hair on your chest, then spread, tracing the shape of his pectorals, the give of the soft flesh over muscle. "It's.. warm. It's alive." The word came out strangled, reverent.
You stand. Your pants and underwear follow now. A quick shove down your thighs, kicked aside. You're naked now, your skin warm under the gold scanner light, and your cock is already thick, rising. You wrap your hand around the shaft, stroke slow. "This is what arousal looks like," you say. "Blood fills it. Makes it hard." EO's eyes fixate on your moving hand. His luminescent skin flushes-- a deep rose shimmer spreading across his cheeks, his throat, his chest.
His body ripples. The sequined uniform seems to shift as his form shifts. Between his legs, flesh sculpts itself into a human cock, uncut, already leaking clear beads of pre-cum. "I want to know," he breathes, voice cracking. "What you feel. Show me." You reach out and wrap your fingers around his newly-formed shaft. He gasps a sharp, stuttering inhale-- and his whole body trembles. You guide him backward. He lies back on the table and spreads his legs, surrendering.
You spit into your palm, slick your cock with it, and press the swollen head against his virgin alien hole. The tight ring of muscle resists for one breathless second-- then gives, and you push in, burying yourself deep inside of him in one slow, steady thrust. EO's back arches off the bunk. A high, broken whimper escapes his throat, his glittering eyes going wide and wet. His fingers dig into your shoulders, clinging, his whole body trembling around the intrusion.
"Full," he gasps, melodic voice shattered into something raw and human. "I feel fullâŚ"
You pull back and drive in again. His hole clenches wetly around your shaft, slick with spit and the pre-cum leaking from his own flushed cock. You set a deep, relentless rhythm-- pounding into his ass, your balls slapping against his cheeks with every thrust. Fast. Hard. The sound of it fills the dim chamber: wet flesh meeting flesh, his breathless moans, your grunts.
The glowing scanner lies forgotten on the bunk beside his hip, its gold light pulsing in time with your thrusts-- just watching.
You angle your hips and hit the swollen knot of what would be his prostate. EO screams a sharp, startled cry, his cock jerking against his stomach, leaking thick pre-cum that pools in his navel. His hole flutters around your dick, gripping you in rhythmic spasms.
You don't. You pound into him faster, relentless, chasing the tight heat of his ass as his moans climb higher and breathless. His legs wrap around your waist, pulling you deeper. His nails rake down your back.
"Fuck, I'm close" You say, catching your lower lip between your teeth as you drive in to the hilt and release, pumping hot semen deep into his ass in thick, pulsing spurts.
The sensation pushes him over. EO's cock spurts untouched, thick white cum streaking across his own stomach in rope after rope-- his hole spasming around your spasming cock, milking you through every pulse of your release. His cry breaks into a sob of pleasure, then silence.
His breath slows. His body goes limp beneath you, and he collapses against your chest, eyes fluttering shut.
Your softened cock slips out of him with a wet sound, and a slow trickle of your mingled semen follows, warm against his inner thigh. EO doesnât stir-- he only nuzzles deeper into the curve of your neck, his breath small and even against your skin. His reshaped body is pliant and warm against your side, all that alien tension gone. You trace one finger down the long line of his spine, feeling the new human architecture-- each vertebra, the dip at the small of his back, the damp heat still radiating from his skin. On the floor beside the bed, the scanner pulses once-- a single flicker of gold-- then fades to darkness. EOâs weight settles fully against your chest, and his breathing slows until it matches yours, synchronized in the dark.
The darkness of the observation chamber is complete now, the stars beyond the viewport hidden behind some slow-passing nebula. You lie still, one arm wrapped around EO's pliant body, feeling the residual tremor in his muscles as they finally relax. Your own breathing has slowed, your heartbeat settling back to something like rest. The mingled scent of sweat and semen hangs in the warm air, and the sheets beneath you are damp with both.
EO stirs against your chest.
It's a small movement, just the shift of his cheek against your chest, the brush of his reshaped nose along your collarbone. His hand, which had been curled loosely against your ribs, opens flat against your skin.
"Stay," he whispers.
The word is so soft you almost miss it. His voice is thick with sleep, stripped of every trace of the clinical detachment he wore when you first met him. Just that one syllable, breathed against your neck.
"Stay in my quarters tonight."
You don't answer with words. You just tighten your arm around him and begin to shift your weight, preparing to rise. EO makes a small sound, not protest, exactly, but something close to gratitude, as you slide your other arm beneath his knees and lift him.
His reshaped body is warm and damp against your bare chest as you stand. His legs wrap loosely around your waist, instinctive, and his softened cock brushes against your stomach, still slick, still warm. You carry him through the dark corridor. The ship is silent except for the soft pad of your bare feet on the cool deck plating.
EO's quarters are dim, lit only by the faint glow of a standby indicator near the door. You find the bed by memory and settle him onto the fresh sheets. He releases a soft, involuntary sigh as his back meets the mattress, a sound of pure relief, his reshaped spine arching once before relaxing.
You climb in behind him, pulling the covers over you both. Your chest presses to his spine, your arm draping over his waist. He nuzzles his face into the curve of your neck, his breath small and even against your skin, and within moments it slows into the deep, synchronized rhythm of shared sleep.
A/n: so⌠how we feeling.. ? I decided to actually contribute to mjyaoi today so heh⌠hope ya like, inspired by @angelpuppyf4ce
Comment to get added to the taglist! (Also taking reqs in the mailbox)
Tags: Rough sex,Shy Michael!, very submissive Michael, manipulative John landis(heâs the worst), Creampies, Overstimulation, marking, Dacryphilia, mentions of the making of thrilller, virgin Michael, fluffy(ish)?, horribly written smut I actually hate this a lot but itâs been in my drafts forever so wth.
âHold still babyâ Michael whimpered as he tried to stop shaking as Johnâs big dick entered him. âCanât itâs so big John.. how is it so big?â He closed his eyes as he tried to relax against the door despite his comments. John chuckled and slapped the outside of his thigh delighting at the way Michael clenched and yelped. âI thought you wanted me to help you with thriller huh?â John teased meanly bringing himself flush against Michaelâs back as he pulled Michaelâs leg up to go deeper groaning at the tightness âI do I do!"
Michael mewled hoarsely and he blinked to try and combat the tears that fell down his face. Clenching his hands into fists trying his best not to shake at the weird pleasure he was receiving.
He knew he had to make Thriller worth Johnâs time but he never would have thought that the favor John needed to work on it wouldâve been this. When John confronted him about it heâd been ready to pay him however much and to promote his works.
Little did he know John wanted something else. Something no oneâs had until now. Somehow he ended up with his pants and boxers pooling between his ankles as he was pressed against the door. John fingered him for what felt like hours watching in cruel amusement as Michael came all over himself at the first press against his prostate. He begged for a break afterwards but John kept going. Michael broke down pleading with him but the onslaught didnât stop.
âWhere did you go Mike?â John panted into his ear as he moved away from Michael pressing his big hands over Michaelâs hips. He marveled at the way his hands almost touched around his thin waist. He pressed his thumbs into Michaelâs hips molding his back to arch admiring the stark differences in their skin tones. Michaelâs brown against his pale white. He let out a scoff Michael let out a guttural yelp when he thrusted his length in bullying his cock into his guts right on his prostate. "You can take it."
âJohnnnnnn~â Michael yelped the inflection of his voice changing with each rough thrust. His hands fell behind him to grab Johnâs stomach as he trembled . âJohn I feel weird I- mphâ he choked on a particularly deep thrust that struck his sweet spot his eyes crossing. âJohn s-slow down please..â John stopped his movements spreading Michaelâs plush cheeks to look at his pucker watching the way he clenched around his length. "Fuckk so fucking tight youâre doing so good Michael so good."
Michael squirmed he felt his face get impossibly hot with embarrassment as his most intimate parts were exposed "Stop being so crudeâŚ"
John felt his heart race as he heard Michaelâs soft wrecked voice âCrude you mean like your lewd hole huh angel face?â Michael hid his face in his arms shaking as he whimpered at the pet name. John followed his movement bringing Michaelâs face close to his for a filthy kiss. He moved his hands from his hips to his stomach making his way up to his chest playing with Michaelâs nipples. âGot you all to myself so pretty so prettyâŚâ John mumbled into the multiple wet kisses he gave Michael.
Michael moaned into the kiss his eyes rolling with each pump of Johnâs hips. He broke the kiss to cry out pathetically when John hit his prostate his thighs trembled and his back arched as he came against the door shaking like a leaf in Johnâs grip. He let out shaky breaths as he tried to come down from the most intense orgasm heâs ever had.
"J-John plaheseâ he cringed internally he sounded like a cheap whore. "mn?" John pulled out and turned Michael around picking him up before carefully putting him on his back on the coarse carpet he watched as Michael looked at him with wide teary eyes.
"Oh you didnât think we were done yet did you? Thatâs the second time youâve come donât be selfish." Michael covered his face with his arm âhhhh-hnnn, gosh I donât I donât- I didnât mean to hhhgh, Iâm sorryâ. His words were incoherent and sloppy. âPlease msorry msorry felt so goodwas sgoohd.â He let out a gasp trying to stifle the noise in his throat as more tears fell down his face.
"Shh shh itâs ok angel face you did good" John kissed both sides of his face a stark contrast to the rough unrelenting way he fucked Michael just minutes before. âJust once more baby you can do that canât you Bambi?â He watched as Michael nodded his head slowly his breathing calming down "Good boy".
He leaned back to look at Michael in all his glory his curly hair spread and gorgeously wild the hickeys and love bites all over his lower body and the dark prints of his hands around his waist to his aching cock already getting hard again.
He spread his thighs and entered him again watching his face intensely for any sign of discomfort. Michael just whimpered gazing at John. When he was all the way in stretching his tight walls to the limit whatever train of thought Michael might've had left as his mouth opened to mewl. The feeling more pleasurable since he came sensitivity at an all time high. John was quick to cover Michaelâs soft lips with his own pounding harder with every sweet little cry the younger man made.
Tags: Shy Michael!,play-fighting,making out, fluff, submissive Michael(ish?), gender neutral reader,(my first tumblr post be nice pls:/)
Synopsis: You and Michael decide to sneak out to his room after a performance of his-to promote Off the Wall. He gets sad when you tell him you would be out of town for a while. Play fights occur.
âIâm sorry your what?â Michael looked at you with big sad eyes his gaze no different from a baby deers. You smiled affectionately at the thought but quickly corrected your expression when you saw the hurt flash in his eyes.
You grabbed his big hands and rubbed your fingers over his knuckles. âNono no baby Iâm sorry.â Iâm not smiling because I want to leave.â You brought one of his hands to your lips pressing a kiss so soft he barely felt it you watched fondly. As soon as you let his hands go he brought them to his face immediately,his bright cheeks curved in a way you adored. âItâs only for a little while itâs just a family trip Michael you know Iâve done this before.â
Michael looked at you with understanding, though his eyes were sad in a way you saw more often with the new release of the his album. You knew your boyfriend was stressed to hell and it hurt you to see him like this it hurt even more to leave him. You hardly had time together with his gigs as a family and solo artist. Hell just this evening you and Michael had to sneak out a back door to avoid the press and even then you didnât interact much in order to keep up public appearances. You hate to imagine what would happen if your relationship was to be revealed in any way.
You watched Michael as he looked off to the side of his bed looking at a vinyl placed neatly beside the bed sheets that you were seated on. You sat closer to him until your thighs touched and held his hand gazing at his face waiting for him to talk to you.
Although Michael could be very outgoing and even whimsical he had trouble out right saying what he felt in his home for obvious reasons. Even when that man wasnât there the comfort it brought to stay quiet still stayed. You held your breath when he gazed at you with his bright eyes and breathed a sigh of almost relief when you saw he didnât look as sad anymore.
âI know⌠Iâm sorry Y/N.â You playfully shoved your shoulder against his and scoffed. âBaby thereâs no need at all for you to apologize itâs more than ok to feel upset. Youâre allowed to feel upset ok? Iâll be back before you know it I swear.â
You felt a push and gasped trying to hold onto your surprised laugh as you fell to your back on Michaelâs bed closing your eyes as you did so. When you opened them you felt a pressure on your hips and there your boyfriend was sitting on your lap with a pillow in his hands. âWhat did I tell you about swearing you punk!â Michael exclaimed you could tell he was trying to sound serious but you caught the amusement in his tone.
âOh Iâm the punk huh?â You asked scandalized as Michael hit your sides with a pillow and giggled. âInnit what I said Y/N you arenât gettin old on me are ya?â You couldnât hold in your laughter then. You found the way his accent slipped out cute and beyond funny. He just frowned and hit you again while you squealed and yelled for mercy.
Michael soon tired and paused you took it as an opportunity immediately flipping your positions straddling his lap. He looked up at you dazed his kinky fro surrounding his head like a halo. You took the pillow from him and threw it off to the side leaning down to hug him instead of continuing your play fight.
He melted into your touch and hugged you back immediately the somber mood returned. âI know what you were doing.â He made a noise of confusion shifting to see your face but you held him there. âTrying to make me forget how upset you were.â You explained your gentle hands moving to his fro as you carefully played with it.
You moved from your hiding spot between his neck and brought a gentle kiss to his cheek. âHow did you know..?â The words came out mumbled as he looked away embarrassed. âI just do, just like you know me right baby?â You brought your nose close to his and rubbed them together in a Inuit kiss delighting in the way he squirmed as his hands twitched by his sides moving from a notion of touching your waist to back to gripping the bedsheets underneath.
You stopped your movements and breathed out an amused sigh your pretty face inches away from his. â You can touch me you know that right Michael?â You questioned your voice honey sweet and dangerously teasing.He looked like a deer in headlights and you could have sworn that you saw his complexion brighten as if blushing.
He brought his big hands up to your waist and whimpered when you littered his neck in kisses softly moaning with each suck. âWant me to show you how much Iâll miss you babyâ? Michael nodded his hands now gripping your waist tighter but never tight enough to hurt. You smiled affectionately finally kissing him pouring your love into it trying to convey how much you loved and cared for him.
You sat back and broke the kiss watching with dark eyes how messy and disheveled he looked from light petting âIâll take care of you baby.â
Wow, what a way to start things off with footage of the Neverland Ranch raid from 2003, which was an obvious PR stunt carried out by the prosecution, who aimed to make a media spectacle of it for the world to see. Mind you, they found absolutely nothing in said raid, or in any other raid carried out against Jackson from 1993 onward.
The first person they bring in is J. Randy Taraborrelli, a known liar and tabloid whoreâand donât any of you worry, thereâs plenty more where that came from that Iâll cook as well in other posts.
Randy Taraborrelli has written two books about Michael Jackson over the decades, none of which Michael himself ever endorsed. And in these books, he embellishes many stories about Michael, and throughout the editions of these books, his stories continuously change. He claims to be close friends with Michael (and has for decades), and yet he only met Michael one time because Taraborrelli was head of a Diana Ross fan club and got the opportunity to meet and interview Michael when they were both teenagers. There is exactly one photograph of them together, from the 70âs, pictured below.
In Randyâs book Michael Jackson: The Magic, The Madness he tells a lie that Emmanuel Lewisâ mother did not want Michael to be around the child star and put an end to their friendship. In reality, this did not happen and Emmanuel Lewis himself has stated such. He also tells a tale of the 1993 strip search Jackson was forced to submit to by police, a specific version of a story told in Victor Gutierrezâs book Michael Jackson Was My Lover, a book that he was sued for (along with a slanderous interview in which he told Hard Copy he had a video of Michael Jackson sexually abusing his own child family member),which effectively bankrupted him. He also borrows heavily from Ray Chandlerâs (Evan Chandlerâs brother) book All That Glitters, which ALSO borrows from the above mentioned Gutierrez pedo fantasy novel. In fact, most of MJWML and ATG are nearly identical, aside from the alleged sexual acts. This is because Ray Chandler and the rest of the Chandler family worked with Gutierrez to create this CSA hoax in the first place. Remember, Gutierrez managed to somehow tell these stories first (in 1997), while Ray didnât until 2004. Thatâs Gutierrez telling the exact same version of events from the Chandler camp 7 full years before they did themselves.
Now, letâs move on, seeing as Iâve already displayed all the ways in which Randy Taraborrelli is not a credible source for anything pertaining to MJ.
Martin Bashir is a highly unethical âjournalistâ, yet no outright mention of the criminal behavior he and BBC took part in regarding Princess Diana to be found in this hit piece!
Martin Bashir tells a lie claiming that Michael brought Gavin in to be a part of Bashirâs slanderous documentary LWMJ, yet in the 2005 criminal trial, Gavin Arvizo himself testified stating that Michael planned to have Dave Dave (David Rothenberg) in the documentary, and that Bashir then completely omitted Dave Dave from the documentary.
Gavin Arvizo testimony March 14th, 2005. ^
Dave Dave was a close friend of Michael and was an adult at the time, though heâd known Jackson from childhood. Bashir insisted on having Gavin in the movie instead, as Gavin was still a child.
Martin Bashir, in this netflix hit piece, goes on to tell a complete lie about Michael supposedly sleeping in bed with Gavin, and then playing a clip from his movie, despite this longsince being proven edited.
What was not originally aired, and what continues to be perpetuated by the media and these hit pieces is Michael supposedly saying he slept in a bed with Gavin. What he went on to say was âalways give the beds to the companyâ.
Oh and by the way, Bashir told Gavin to put his head on Michaelâs shoulder and instructed them to hold hands behind the camera. Because while Bashir was filming Michael, Michael had his team secretly film him without him knowing. This documentary was proven to be maliciously edited in court, Bashir took the stand and refused to answer questions saying he had protections as a journalist under shield law, and even Gavin said that the portrayal of Michael in Bashirâs film was not truthful.
Letâs move on to the next person interviewed: Diane Dimond.
Diane Dimond has had a 3+ decade career built upon slandering Michael Jackson. She has lied and claimed he possessed CP, she allowed tabloid liars onto her show Hard Copy (a 90âs tabloid TV show), most notable being Victor Gutierrez.
This is the interview Michael Jackson sued him for and won, being awarded 2.7 million dollars, which bankrupted that bitch. Victor then fled the country and was later convicted of the same shit in Chile. Michael sued Diane Dimond too, but she was let off the hook, claiming journalistic privilege. Same thing Bashir did. Noticing a pattern yet?
đŹ 0  đ 4  â¤ď¸ 19 ¡ The origin of the ânude photos of boys being found at MJâs propertiesâ allegation came from a tabloid TV show called Hard
additional post Iâve made with sources about another lie in these allegations Diane Dimond allowed on her show ^
and yet another source to show the ways in which Diane Dimond allows lies to run rampant. this video shows proof of a boy being coached to lie on MJ. it aired on her tv show Hard Copy. ^
She smiles here with glee at seeing footage of Gavin with Michael, recalling the Chandler allegations. Why the apparent happiness if she believes it to be true? It is not shocking Dimond finds glee in guilting Michael Jackson; she clearly holds a deep contempt toward him. Look no further than how she speaks of him here in this video I posted.
đŹ 1  đ 3  â¤ď¸ 20 ¡ I can't believe Maureen Orth is allowed to be able to write at all after that racist bullshit from 2003. Like seriously? V
Not only did Diane Dimond state of Victor Gutierrez (a self admitted pedophile and NAMBLA member) âIâve never had a doubt about this person, ever!â, but she was in bed with the prosecution and DA Tom Sneddon during the trial and the media swarm leading up to it. They regularly leaked biased info to her which she reported.
Diane, in Netflixâs doc, lies and states that the 1994 Chandler civil settlement is what caused the Chandler allegations to never go to trial. However, what no one makes mentions of is that the Chandler allegations and evidence from 1993-1994 were tried alongside the Arvizo case in 2005âs criminal trial.
This was due to CA Evidence Code 1108, otherwise known as âprior bad actsâ evidence, which allows a prosecution in the state of California to bring in evidence of an alleged similar sex crime against a defendant even if they were never previously charged, such as in Jacksonâs case. This means that the Jury did in fact hear and see evidence of BOTH allegations, and still met a unanimous not guilty.
What she also fails to mention is this: IT IS NOT POSSIBLE FOR A CIVIL SETTLEMENT TO PREVENT A CRIMINAL INVESTIGATION OR CRIMINAL TRIAL IN THE UNITED STATES!
Nothing can stop the government from charging someone with a crime. Jackson was forced into a settlement with the Chandler family due to his rights being violated by the judge, and being deposed for the civil trial while the criminal investigation was pending. Had he given deposition, it would have revealed his entire defense to a prosecutor actively hunting him down, which the DA could then take and use to tailor his criminal case against Jackson.
The criminal investigation continued for half a year following this civil settlement. The reason the Chandlerâs never went to trial in 1994 was because they stopped cooperating with the police, and the accuser Jordan Chandler refused to testify. Despite his refusal, DA Sneddon brought 2 grand juries (one in LA and another in Santa Barbara) to review evidence for the case. They convened, reviewed the evidence and heard witness testimony from 400+ people, and then said they wouldnât indict Jackson.
She goes on later in this doc to tell a tale of complete fabrication with ZERO evidence to substantiate it, a story she made up and put in her book where she tells plenty of other lies. She claims Michael was âentertaining a group of teenage boys who all spoke Germanâ, where they were all, Michael included, heavily drinking liquor and smoking cigars. Yeah, likely story there, Dimond.
Honestly, I would need an entire thread to go through Diane alone, but letâs move on to Vincent Amen.
Vincent Amen alleges that Michael Jackson gave Star Arvizo the nickname âblowholeâ, showing off Polaroid photos that were evidence in the 2005 trial. But this is a lieâStar Arvizo testified and stated numerous times that HE chose that nickname for himself and stated he made it up himself.
Star Arvizo cross examination testimony March 8th, 2005 ^
Now, to address Vinnieâs lie about nudist magazines with kids being circled in a magazine for order:
Which he has been telling for decades and selling to tabloids mind youâŚ
There is ZERO evidence to prove Michael ever owned such a thing, let alone circled things like this. Vinnie even went to the prosecution and they deemed him inconsistent and non credible, refusing to call him as a witness. The prosecution, who called upon some of the least credible people Iâve ever seen in any court case, chose not to call this guy who claims he had proof that MJ was trying to get ahold of CP? Yeah, again like Dimond, likely fucking story bud.
Amen owns this magazine, and has for decades, sold stories about it for decades, but supposedly itâs MJâs? What the hell, sure!
DA Tom Sneddon who was spearheading the prosecution never notated anything about Helios or any such related DVDs that Amen claims were circled throughout any court filing or within any search warrant and seizure from 2003-2005. And none of the items supposedly circled were ever found in Michael Jacksonâs possession.
Michael did own nudist magazines from the 1930âs which were not pornographic, as confirmed in actual documentation. None of these materials had DNA evidence on them, either, as confirmed in forensic examiner testimony.
Michael owned thousands of books of all sorts of things, and collected all sorts of stuff. The man was borderline a hoarder. Said ânude childrenâ were not the focus of these magazines. They were part of a nudist community. Any pornographic or erotic material found focused solely on adult women.
And I should also mention: Vinnie Amenâs wife, Rina Oh, was literally a pimp for Jeffrey Epstein. Epstein victimâs have accused her of this. đ¤đ¤đ¤ Me thinks this circled CP is his idkkkkkkk guys lol
Now, letâs talk about Dr. Stanley Katz
Dr. Katz came into contact with the Arvizo family through Larry Feldman. Larry Feldman was referred to the Arvizo family by their at the time attorney Dickerman, who admitted to referring them in his testimony. It was stated that Feldman was the âgo-toâ guy on anything Michael Jackson, which is quite peculiar, seeing as Feldman only ever worked on ONE case involving Michael Jackson: the Chandler allegation of 1993. Similarly, Dr. Katz admitted that Larry Feldman was plotting to file a civil lawsuit on behalf of the Arvizo family, which Dickerman corroborates in his testimony, stating he has a fee-sharing arrangement with Feldman.
Of course, DA Sneddon lied to the media and claimed the Arvizoâs didnât want money, yet both attorneys they had stated otherwise and the psychologist they queried did as well.
After being referred to Larry Feldman, Feldman then referred the Arvizo family to Dr. Stanley Katz, a psychologist who specializes in the field of child sexual abuse. More importantly, this is the same exact psychologist that interviewed Jordan Chandler in 1993. Dr. Katz was formerly also involved in the highly controversial McMartin preschool trial. He was the Director of Training and Professional Education at the Childrenâs Institute International (CII). Kee McFarlane, who initially interviewed the McMartin children, worked under him. During his cross examination at Jacksonâs 2005 trial, Dr. Katz testified that he did the assessments of the McMartin children. The CIIâs role in the McMartin case has been widely criticized in professional circles. Their interviewing techniques are considered coercive and manipulative which may lead children to make false allegations of sexual abuse.
Dr. Stanley Katz, who operated his organization CII in the 1980âs, and one which resulted in HUNDREDS of falsely coerced child sex abuse allegations and mass hysteria, was the prosecutionâs star witness.
Credibility? Nada đđť
Remember, if you donât fact check, that means you donât care. So donât eat garbage from Netflix and take it as truth. I still have 2 more parts to power through, and I intend to, but for tonight Iâm clocking out and enjoying the rest of my evening free from glue sniffer delusions đ¤Ł
Iâll leave you with these two comprehensive threads discussing both the Chandler allegations from 1993 as well as the Arvizo allegations from 2003-2005 for your reading pleasure đ
đŹ 0  đ 6  â¤ď¸ 14 ¡ The Chandler Allegations ¡ On August 17th,1993 the Los Angeles police department opened an investigation against Michael J
đŹ 1  đ 0  â¤ď¸ 10 ¡ The Arvizo Allegations ¡ Here we will be breaking down the timeline, inconsistencies, provable lies, and evidence of the A
And to all my fellow moonwalkers out there, stay fun and fresh and keep silencing these lying assholes
maybe max mocking daryl for being his first time and using it to his advantage but a fluffy aftercare except that max sucks in being gentle but somehow that makes the whole thing better (?)
MDNI
maxryl first time oneshot đ¤ Darryl loses his v card over winter break. they start out ok, quickly turn very antagonistic, and by the end of it things get sweeter.Â
Warnings: very dubcon, rough pain play (choking, slapping, biting, minimal prep anal), intoxication (both of them), light feminization near the end.
Words: ~6500 (basically all smut đĽš)
i had such a blast (!!!) working on this one, thanks for the lovely idea and request anon! đ
Want It Bad
The first time smoke hits his lungs, it burns like fire, and he spits out half the hit, hacking up clouds of the good stuff.
"Whatchu doing!" his friends holler, heavy hands clapping his back. Darryl chokes out laughs between his coughs.
But then the next several hits go down smoother, and maybe that's because the weed makes his pain--hm, not less intense? More intense, in a way? But like it's not entirely a part of him, like he can sit back in the audience and watch it smolder in his throat.
And that's dangerous, he thinks at first, because he has a lot of pain generally speaking, and this is so much better than just plain feeling it. But his high takes his worries away and before he knows it, it's 4am, he's rolling around on the floor, sloshed on a few blunts and too many nips of fireball.Â
"You look stupid as hell," Max says with a lazy smile, and that's the first time all night Darryl has felt self conscious at all. This feeling, too, is changed by the high. Sharpened like a blade.
"Man, shut up." The last of their other friends had just trickled out of the condemned building, leaving Darryl with nobody to deflect Max's barbs onto.
"Homeboy rolls up in his pea coat and oxfords like he's some hot shit and he can't even hit the dutch without giggling like a schoolgirl about it. You look stupid, D."
"They're not oxfords," Darryl mumbles in response, knowing it'll piss Max off, taking no small pleasure in the chance to be petty.
"Now you sound stupid, too." Max fishes another blunt out of his pocket and lights up. Darryl watches with irritation from his position on the floor, unwillingly admiring the ease and grace with which the other wraps his lips around the thing and pulls.
He sometimes gets lost watching Max. He usually does his best to hide it--but tonight, his defenses are chemically stripped bare. His eyes are glued to the column of Max's neck, watching as he inhales deep. At the peak of his draw, Max's eyes slip closed. He holds his breath for 1, 2, 3, and then he purses his lips and lets the cotton come rolling out.
When Max does it, he has the grace of a lion. No giggling, no coughing. He opens his eyes to look directly at Daryl, watching him, being watched.
"What's your problem?" Max asks. But there's no heat in the challenge. His eyes are hooded, red. The weed softens his normally jagged edges.
But it seems to exacerbate Darryl's. He normally keeps himself under tight control, always maintaining a front. Darryl at college, Darryl at home, Darryl with his friends. Tonight, no matter how hard he tries, he's just Darryl, and that frustrates him.
"Just give me that." He cant keep the ire out of his tone.
"With that attitude? Nah, man."
Darryl considers this briefly. At the conclusion of the thought, his id takes over. He launches himself at the other man, bowling him over and drunkenly attempting to yank the blunt of his hands.
"Hey! The fuck!" And those saw toothed edges are back now and Darryl likes it better that way because that's so much easier to deal with, so much more familiar.
The two boys have been friends since middle school--it is far from the first time they've tussled. But Darryl is faded, and his coordination is strained.
"Let me have it," he demands, words slurring. One arm wriggles around Max's neck, the other wildly gropes for the doobie. One of Max's elbows digs into his side in retaliation. He easily holds the still-lit prize out of reach.
"You really wanna do this? Okay." And suddenly they're flipped around and Max is pinning him down, knocking his breath out of him, getting dust and dirt and ash all over his clothes. Dimly, he thinks he'll have to wash them before his mom sees.
He thrashes wildly, growling and cursing under his breath. But Max is like a statue over him. Why is he so fucking strong? He takes another slow drag, blowing the smoke right in Darryl's face.
"Fuck you."Â
"Always picking fights you can't finish," Max grunts. And that's just not true. Only Max knows how to push his buttons, stoke his anger until it boils over like this.
He tries to jam a knee between them, but the burst of fury that had fueled his first attack is quickly fading. Now, he's just stuck.
"Let me up, man." Even to his own ears, the demand sounds weak.
"Are you done?"
"Just let me hit the damn thing."
Max pauses, considers. And then he brings the blunt to Darryl's mouth. Darryl glares at him--this isn't what he meant--but he nevertheless takes it between his lips and lets his eyes slip closed and breathes in deep, deep, deep.
His rage simmers down to embers, not so overwhelming anymore. He laughs, then coughs up smoke as a wave of euphoria gently washes over him. Did he really just do all that?
Max cracks a smile too, barking out a laugh from his belly.
"Feels good, don't it. You play nice, you get nice things." Always so patronizing.
"You never play nice."
"Guys like me don't need to. Guys like youâŚ"
"The hell is that supposed to mean?"
Max snorts. "Fuck you think? I got you pinned with one hand, sippin' on just what I give you with the other."
And that pisses him off to hear, but it also does something else to him. He feels his face heat, his hips shift. The whiskey makes his pulse pound loud in his ears. He's always been comfortable touching his friends, but suddenly Max is way too close, his breath leaving tingles in its wake where it touches Darryl's skin.
Terrifyingly, Max seems to notice his discomfort. He quirks his head. "You like that? Oh, shit. You like that."
"Can you just let me up?" Darryl wishes he could curl up and die right now.
Max only smirks.
"Make me."
And if he wasn't horny before, he sure is now, the way those words shoot straight to the pit of his belly, mixing with the anxiety gathering there.
"C'mon, you know I can't," Darryl huffs, beginning to struggle again, more motivated by shame than rage this time.
"That's right," Max breathes. He takes another hit and shifts his leg to settle between Darryl's, pressing his solid thigh right up against the bulge beginning to form in the other's pants.
"Ah!" The sound comes out like a gasp, high and reedy. Darryl can't stop his hips from rocking up into the pressure. The weed heightens the sensation in a way he's never felt before. Like every touch is a piece of lightning, loud and bright and overwhelming.
"I always wondered about you," Max admits, low and husky, "with your makeup, your pretty face." Darryl would bury it in his hands if he could. Because honestly, he's wondered too. He's caught himself staring at Max more times than he'd like over the years, pondering the lines of his neck, the slim angle of his hips, how his brows knit together when he scowls.
He's never acted on those thoughts, never thought they'd ever lead him anywhere good. But right now the other man's heavy weight crushes into him in all the right ways and he can't not think about the body over him.
"What are you doing, Max?" It takes Darryl a moment to brave the question. He feels laid bare, vulnerable.
"Tell me you like it."
Darryl's eyes are big and round, searching Max's gaze for any hints of the cruelty he expects. He can't always read him right. But tonight, the cocktail of intoxicants they've shared keep both men more honest than not. And Max looks comfortable, relaxed, happy, even. Not mean. Not tonight.
"I like it," he barely whispers. He thinks he sees Max's pupils dilate ever so slightly.
"Say you want it," Max orders him, words colored by a growing smile. His thigh grinds down, making Darryl's eyes roll back.
"I want it," he admits, amazed at the way his voice trembles. What's happening to him?
"Yeah. You want it bad." Max lowers himself, not quite pinning Darryl anymore, but laying his body down over the other's, pressing them together hips to torso. He feels solid, warm, good. He holds the blunt out again, and Darryl eagerly hits it, wanting to think a little less, feel a little more. He lets out the hit with a groan and his arms come up to rest on the other's back. One of Max's big hands cups his cheek, thumb on his chin, turning it left, then right, looking at him from all angles.
"So fuckin' pretty," he mutters, and it sounds like the words have bypassed his conscious thought entirely. Darryl's stomach flips. He's unsure what to do with the compliment.
"Lemme try something," Max continues. And, sure, yeah. He thinks he'd let Max try just about anything right now. The man takes his own turn with the blunt, but this time, instead of letting the smoke free, he lowers his head, purses his mouth, and then they're kissing, and Max's lips feel soft and plush, tender, unlike every other part of him.
And then more smoke is rolling into Darryl's lungs, Max's hit becoming his own. He sucks it down like he's drowning.
"Where'd you learn that?" he asks afterwards, enjoying the way the smoke curls up from his mouth, the way he can literally watch Max's air roll out of himself.
"They never teach you to shotgun up at college?"
"Ha. No."
And he's kissing him again, and that's weird, Max is kissing him, for real. His body moves with a mind of its own, hips still working against Max's leg, fingers gripping and releasing the fabric of Max's jacket, feeling his broad back shift underneath, and his mouth, god, his mouth. Darryl yields to Max's movements like water, welcoming him in. Lips sliding, closing, pressing, giving in again. He hears these high breathy noises, realizing after the fact they're coming from his own throat.
Max ends the last kiss with a slow, gentle, bite of his teeth over Darryl's bottom lip, not enough to hurt, just enough to work the flesh and tug slightly, at last slipping free with a sigh.
"How come you're so good at that?" Darryl wonders, aloud, mistakenly.
Max chuckles and takes another slow drag of the now-roachy blunt. "Ain't my first rodeo, D."
Darryl doesn't love the thought of that. Max always talks a big game about girls, always brags like he's got something to prove. He'd assumed Max was getting maybe a fifth of the action he claimed.
The irritation must show in his face, because Max huffs in annoyance. "Don't go bitchin' about it now," he says.
"I didn't say anything."
"Good."
Max's lips are back again, one hand offering him the last of the roach (it goes down hot and harsh, but he barely notices), the other guiding Darryl's head to the side so he can plant kisses along his neck. He shivers, goosebumps pebbling over the skin there. Max's breath sounds so loud beside his ear.
"You're sensitive," Max notes, before laving his tongue hard over a spot that makes Darryl keen in pleasure.
"Do that again," he says. He stretches his neck out, opens himself completely.
"You don't tell me what to do." Max says it soft, matter of fact. Darryl rolls his eyes.
Max turns him the other way, giving the left side of his throat attention. And, ok, fine, this is more or less what he wanted. This time, Max sucks a hickey high up on Darryl's pulse point, the sensation once again making him tremble and moan. Max pauses to watch the blood flow to the spot as a small bruise blossoms over the steady thrum of Darryl's pulse.
"I'm gonna have to cover that." He doesn't even wanna think about what his mom would say.
"Mm." Max licks again over the spot, leaving it wet with the evidence of his attention. He begins to travel downward, tugging open the buttons on his coat, exposing the slender lines of his collarbones.
"We really doin' this here?" Darryl feels dirty on the floor.
"You got any better ideas?"
And, no, not really. Max leisurely pulls down the zipper of Darryl's hoodie next. Finally, the bigger man leans back so he can untuck Darryl's shirt, pushing it up and baring his torso. The chill air of the building washes over his body. He tries to suppress his shivers as he watches Max's expression, gauging his reaction.
"Why you lookin' at me so scared?" Max asks. He spreads his hands over Darryl's hips, his stomach, his chest, fingers idly running over his hardening nipples. Darryl squirms. He's too cold, too aroused.
"'M not scared. I just⌠never did this before." That stops Max in his tracks. Oh, no.
"What? You still got your cherry? Ain't there any pussy at Princeton?"
Darryl huffs, shoving Max off of him, scooting back. He tugs his coat back around him.
Max laughs. "There you go bitchin' again."
"You're bein' an ass!"
"Ain't my fault you're a virgin," Max pushes, "in fact, I'm tryin' to help you out here."
"No you're fucking not," Darryl hisses.
"I am," Max insists. "Let me." He crawls forward, back between Darryl's legs, reaching to palm his erection through his jeans. And he lets him, god damn it, because it was so much nicer when they were doing that instead of talking.
But Max--stupid fucking Max--won't shut up now.
"So I'm your first, then. First to touch you here?" He squeezes, wrenching a low moan from Darryl's diaphragm.
"Obviously," he pants.
"First to mark you up with a hickey."
"What do you think?" He wanted it to come out with more venom than it did.
"⌠First to kiss you?"
"Will you just shut up and do it again?" He tries to thrust into Max's grip, but Max follows his movements, not giving him what he wants.
"You're gonna have to be patient. Gonna take my sweet time with an untouched thing like you," Max says, and the mixture of embarrassment and desire it provokes surges straight to his groin. Max likes that he's inexperienced.
Finally, finally, Max returns to what he was doing, again exposing Darryl's chest, still palming his dick when he lowers his head to taste the other's nipples. The sensation tingles, just this side of too intense, charged by the high.
Darryl's scratches his fingers through Max's short hair. Max's tongue makes slow, wide swipes across one areola, before his lips latch on and he sucks hard, pain mixing with pleasure. "Ah!" Darryl gasps, his back arching into the touch.
"Tell me how it feels."
"Um, good."
"It hurt?" Max presses.
"A little," Darryl pants. Then Max fucking bites him. Not hard enough to draw blood, not even to bruise--but enough that it hurts more than a little. "Ah! Yes, it fuckin' hurts."
"You like it?" It seems Max is genuinely asking this time.
Darryl pauses to consider. "I don't know. Do it again."
A corner of Max's lip tightens. "What'd I say about tellin' me what to do?"
"Jesus. Fine. Will you try it again?"
"Say it nice, boy." Darryl wants to hit him.
"Will you please⌠bite me⌠again?"
"Mm. Was that so hard?" Max lazily shifts to Darryl's other nipple. He gently places his teeth around the little nub, then begins working it, steadily increasing the pressure until Darryl is keening and twisting under him. Somehow, Max knows just how much to give him to keep him this side of horny.
And then he lets up. The tension in Darryl's body releases. Tingles dance around the sensitive spot.
"I like it," he marvels, breathless. Why does he like it so much?
"A lot of girls do," Max says, obnoxiously.
"I'm not one of your girls, Max."
"You sure like bein' touched like one." It makes Darryl scowl. But he doesn't have time to respond before Max gets back to it, kissing, licking, nibbling, working his nipples to tenderness.
Then he travels downwards, sucking more pain-pleasure hickeys into Darryl's ribs, his stomach, even his ticklish sides. Darryl's moans fill the empty air of the cold building, echoing slightly up a stairwell.
Max leaves one more bruising kiss in the hollow of his hip, right under the waistband of his jeans, before undoing his belt and popping open his fly. Darryl obligingly lifts his hips to let the other tug down his pants. He wedges his coat underneath himself so he doesn't have to lay his ass on the filthy floor.
Max's big hand settles over the bulge in his briefs. It feels so intense now, hotter, heavier, only separated by a thin strip of cotton.
"AhhâŚ" Darryl's hips can't stop grinding. Max obliges him this time, squeezing and gripping his dick through the fabric, smirking over him.
"You really are a virgin. Look at you moanin'. I'm barely touchin' you."
Words like that call for an elbow to the gut, but the sensations are too loud for him to think straight. He can't tell where the weed ends and his body's nerves begin. Every feeling is heightened, sharpened.
"Shh, pretty little thing. We'll fix that soon." What did he just call him?
"'M not--"
"Mmhm. Let's see what we're workin' with here." Why's he have to say it like that? Max pulls his briefs off and he's finally completely naked, completely exposed. He shivers, cold. Max, on the other hand, is still decent head to toe. Of course.
"Cute," Max says, lightly flicking his erection. Darryl jumps. It throbs.
"You are such an ass," Darryl bites out. He's always been a little insecure about his dick--what college-aged boy isn't? God blessed him with four and a half average inches. He's tried to appreciate it for what it is instead of what it could be.
"Sure, but I ain't wrong." Max reaches to fish his cock out through his fly, and, fuck, it's thick. Thick, and long, and heavy when Max slaps it over Darryl's. There go any notions he'd had about Max overcompensating. He stares, both irritated and aroused.
"See? Cute as hell." Max picks it up and drops it, letting its weight land on Darryl's length over and over. The worst part is he can't deny it. The visual comparison makes him feel smaller than ever. Max is uncut; Darryl's sensitive cockhead is exposed. Max must have at least a couple inches on him, not even fully hard; Darryl, who can feel his pulse throbbing in his cock, is easily dwarfed by Max's hand.
Max grasps both of their shafts, squeezing. Aided by some spit, he begins to jerk their cocks together. His grip is hot, tight, full of delicious friction. It wrenches a groan from Darryl and he covers his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Nuh uh. Lemme hear you." Max's free hand tugs his wrist, guiding it down to the floor and holding it there. He briefly struggles against the hold, only experimentally, wanting to feel how he's trapped by it, by the solid body over him. Max looks at him sharply, gives one hard thrust against him, before Darryl relaxes into the restraint. Breathy moans and gasps float up from out of him.
"Ain't you done yet?" Max asks. When Darryl scoffs, he continues, "No, really. Answer me. Are you done or are you gonna keep fightin' me like you ain't been jerkin' to the thought of me for years."
Darryl stills. How did he know about that?
Max barks out a laugh. "Thought so. Man, the look on your face."
Why must he be this way? Darryl bucks violently, trying to shake him off for real this time. Anger once again colors his shame.
"Fuck you, fuck you to hell, Max," he grits out, thrashing. Already tired from their earlier tussle, and this time burdened with an unflagging erection, he doesn't get very far.
"Fuck me? For givin' you what you want?"
"You think I want you humiliatin' me like I'm just some dumb cheap fuck to you?" Try as he might, he can't keep the waver out of his voice. He can't cry, not like this, not now.
"Yes," Max says, completely honestly. "You do. It ain't what you are, but you do."
That makes Darryl freeze on the spot.
"What am I, then?" He spits it out with as much bite as he can muster, and if it wasn't clear he was on the verge of tears before, it sure as hell is now.
"Don't be stupid," is the shitty non-answer he gets.
"Get off of me." He plants a foot on Max's chest and kicks hard.
"Shit. Wait," Max says, with an "oof" as he's shoved backwards.
"Go fuck yourself," Darryl spits. He scrambles to gather his clothes.
"Wait! I didn't mean it like that."
Darryl laughs in disbelief. "How the fuck did you mean it then?" He's back on his feet, clothed now but disheveled, too inebriated, ready to leave and be anywhere but here.
"Will you just let me explain? 10 years friends, and you think I only want in your pants." The frustration is clear in Max's tone. Good.
"The fuck else am I supposed to think? You treat me like dog shit."
"Because you piss me off! So fuckin' pretentious. Nothin's ever good enough for you, I sure as shit never have been. You think I want to be like this? Think I want to want you like this? I ain't even gay for chrissake."
Oh. The knot of resentment and fury that's had Darryl's chest in a vice grip loosens just a hair. This is new.
It's not that Max doesn't care about him. It's that he's too emotionally stunted to know what to do about it.
It doesn't make any of it ok, he's behaved like a monster tonight. But it's enough for Darryl, for now. It's more than he ever thought he'd get.
"Talkin' like that, and you're callin' me the stupid one."
"Am I fuckin' wrong?" There's an edge, a rawness to Max's words. And Darryl eats it up. Loves that he's not the only one feeling adrift, confused, in pain. He pushes.
"Yes," he says, "'cause how can you be callin' yourself straight when you've been up in a man's junk all night?"
Max snarls, advances, all anger and hunger and hurt. Darryl wants to make him worse, then better. He wants to bite down and then soothe the wound that bleeds.
He backs up until Max has him cornered against a wall and its crumbling paint chips are dirtying his coat. He towers over him, boxes him in until Darryl's world shrinks to the cage the other's body forms around him.
"You barely count as a man," Max hisses. But his barbs don't sting like they did before. He tears open Darryl's shirt, roughly gropes a pec, grabs at his throat.
"If that's what you need to tell yourself," Darryl says, and then Max squeezes until every breath is a conscious effort. Darryl smiles up at him, drinking in the fire he's fanned, high off the power he's discovered.
"You little bitch," Max spits. He throws Darryl down to the floor. "Hands and knees."
"You gonna fuck me now? Gonna take what you want?" Despite his teasing, Darryl eagerly obeys.
"Shut up." Max descends on him. He shoves Darryl's pants back down, this time completely ignoring his dick, instead palming the ass that's been presented to him.
"Come and fuckin' take it," Darryl whispers. He presses back into the hands squeezing him, yelping when one lands a sharp smack on his left cheek.
"Sick of your games." Max follows it up with another spank, even harder this time. The pain bursts and simmers on the sensitive spot. A keening whine spills from Darryl's throat as his body cringes from the impact.
His dick twitches where it hangs underneath him, harder than he's ever been in his life. "PleaseâŚ"
"I said shut up. Only sounds I wanna hear from you are your pathetic moans when I fuck you open," Max growls. Darryl bites his tongue, partly in submission, partly anticipation.
Max pulls apart Darryl's ass cheeks, exposing his virgin pucker.
No one, not a soul, has ever looked at that part of him, and god, is Max looking. When a coarse thumb swipes over it, Darryl feels himself clench involuntarily. A natural reaction to this most private and intimate part of his body being forcibly spread open and toyed with, yet the feeling is completely foreign to him.
Max spits onto it and rubs the moisture around. Darryl gets little warning before a finger is unceremoniously working its way into him. The act itself is less pleasurable than the thought of the conclusion it promises. Max's hands are rough, ungentle. With his other, he continues to paw at Darryl's ass, occasionally slapping it again, working it like a stress toy. And the stretch--it's dry and unyielding.
But it means that a part of Max is inside a part of him, and he's dreamed about this exact moment for so long that the stinging discomfort of everything else becomes paradoxically enjoyable. He wants to sting for Max.
So he pushes back, taking Max's finger to the base. He groans, savoring the violation.
"Needy whore," Max breathes in amazement. He wastes no time in adding a second digit.
"Agh!" Darryl marvels at the sound of his own strained moans.
"Tonight could've been nice for you. Was gonna take my time, remember?" Oh, he remembers. "Not anymore. Now you're gonna take it, when I say, how I say."
"Want you to give it to me," Darryl moans, "want you to fuck meâŚ"
The crack of the next slap to his ass reverberates through the empty building. Darryl's cry of pain follows right after. His body tries to flinch away, but Max's hold on him keeps him pinned in place, ass out and up.
"What'd I say?" Max mauls at the freshly sore spot, digs his nails in.
"No--no talking."
"That's right, slut. You don't need any words tonight." Max shoves another finger inside of him. The stretch of it burns, drags at his skin internally. "'Cause it don't matter what you want. It's about damn time someone put you in your place."
Then, the fingers are gone from him. The pain recedes, but the ache that springs from the sudden emptiness in him feels god awful. He whines, pushing back, wiggling his ass, begging for it as much as he can without words.
Max lands one last brutal spank on his other cheek. He'd be surprised if he didn't bruise by morning. Then he's being flipped around, maneuvered onto his back again. The tatters of his shirt frame his torso and all the love bites sprinkled on it. Max impatiently pulls his pants all the way off and retakes his place between his spread legs.
"Wanna see your face when I put it in. Wanna watch you grit your teeth and take it like a bitch when I fuck your virginity away. No matter what, I'll always be the first one who touched you, who fucked you. First to get up inside you. I'm changin' you forever tonight. I'm takin' you." Darryl savors every filthy word that falls from the other's lips.
And then that girthy cock is pressed up against his little hole, lubed only with spit, and it presses, demands entry into Darryl's underprepped body. He whimpers.
"Take it, take it, take itâŚ" Max repeats the words like a chant, grinding forwards, holding the body under him in a vice grip. Darryl tries to reach for his aching cock, but he doesn't even get his fingers around it before Max swats his hand away and slaps him across the face. Not hard enough to do any lasting damage, but enough to make his eyes water and his head spin.
"You get what I give you, bitch." And then the head of that fat fucking pole pops inside of Darryl and stars burst behind his eyes from the pain of it. His tears spill over, his body clenches everywhere. He lets out a guttural noise of pain.
Finally, Max hesitates. His face softens, a hint of concern colors his expression. It makes Darryl's heart swell and ache like nothing else. Devastatingly, Max begins to pull backwards. Darryl can't let that happen. He locks his legs around the larger man and yanks him forwards as a sob wracks his body. Max slides an inch deeper. The friction is unbearable.
At that, Max's eyes darken. His cock throbs inside of the tight hole spasming around it. He places a hand over Darryl's throat, presses just enough to make his hold on the other's breath felt, and leans in to drag his tongue along the wet streaks of tears down Darryl's cheek.
"You need this," Max marvels, fucking forwards, impaling Darryl on his shaft. "You need me so fuckin' bad. You need me forcin' open your virgin body. Need my cock, don't you? I'm gon' fuckin' give it to you, so fuckin' take it."
And with another thrust of his hips, he's all the way inside. Darryl wails, sobbing, overwhelmed. It's everything he wanted. His body is taut like coiled lightning, hot and tender where it joins with Max.
Max groans and savors the hot, raw squeeze around his shaft. "Always thought you were so pretty when you cry, so pathetic." He presses his face up against Darryl's throat and sucks another rough hickey into it, biting, licking. "Such a cute little pathetic thing, ain't you, D?"
A moment later, he is roughly sawing in and out of Darryl's ass, making obscene noises where their hips meet. The friction is too much, there's no way it can be completely pleasurable for him, either.
But then his cock glances against a spot inside of Darryl that makes his brain short circuit and his hole weakly twitch. "AhâŚ"
"Mmhm." Max notices, of course, and grinds into that sensitive place. Pain and pleasure bleed together, mix into this drug-enhanced all-consuming ball of sensation that grows and grows until Darryl's entire body, every nerve, is swallowed up in it.
"Good bitch," Max grunts. Oh, Darryl likes that. He shouldn't, he doesn't want to, but it makes butterflies flutter inside his occupied guts. He clenches around the cock invading him.
"So fuckin' tight. No virgin anymore, huh? Just a whore now. My whore. My fuckin' whore, stuck on me, changed forever on my cock. I own you." Max is rambling now, lost in Darryl's pliant body, ramming over and over into that tender knot of nerves deep inside Darryl's hole. "I've marked you up and claimed you and now you're fuckin' mine. This hole is mine. Gonna train you up on my cock, make a real bitch out of you, teach you how to please a man right. How to please me."
It takes every last thing Darryl has not to babble along with him, affirming every lurid bullshit thought Max spits out. But he desperately, desperately wants to be good for him. So he only moans louder, sluttier, cries harder, pushes back needily with every merciless thrust.
"No more of your stupid games. No more disrespect. Knew you had a good, obedient little bitch hidin' inside of you. Always fuckin' knew it, that I'd fuck you open and coax that good girl bitch outta you one day."
"Ah, ah, ahâŚ" Darryl feels insane. Everything is so much, too much. His peak rapidly approaches. "Max⌠Max⌠I'm gonnaâŚ"
"Shhhh. Don't need you to talk anymore." Max squeezes down on his throat until he doesn't have air for words. It makes his pleasure spike, and when Max's next thrust crashes into his prostate again and lights up his nerve endings, it finally tips him over.
Breathlessly, wordlessly, silently, he orgasms. He feels his hole arrhythmically spasming, milking Max's cock deep inside of him. Feels himself clenching unbelievably tight, feels his lungs start to want for oxygen, feels his untouched cock throbbing and spurting and making a mess all over his belly. His fingers powerlessly tug at Max's hands on him, his eyes roll back. His spine arches and he writhes.
Max groans. "Oh, fuck. God, you're so fuckin' tight. That feel good? See how good it can feel? Sweet little thing, cummin' so fast. God, you came hands free, didn't you. Your pussy like it that much, huh?"
And then Darryl is coming down, gasping for air when Max lets him breathe, and the dick inside of him is still pounding away at his oversensitive hole. As his tension unspools, so too do his emotions, and they come pouring out him in tears. It's too much, it's all too much.
"Sh, sh, sh, baby⌠I got you. I knew you could be good. So good for me. Let me use you." Max's touch turns surprisingly tender then. He lays his body down over Darryl's, pressing his heavy weight into him and grounding him. Max's hips continue to pump, short movements deep inside of him, relentlessly grinding into Darryl's abused prostate, hurting his aching rim.
"Almost there, D. Just a lil' longer."
Darryl can only whimper and cry in response. His sobs are muffled by Max's shoulder. The flood of neurochemicals hitting his brain let loose feelings he's held bottled up inside him, not just from tonight, but from the last decade of knowing Max. Years of wanting him, cumming to the thought of him, sometimes with his hand down his pants, sometimes untouched in the dead of night when his dreams dragged him to indulgence in the fantasies he was often too ashamed to chase in daylight.
But Max is here, over him, pressed to him, inside of him. Max is grunting and panting in pleasure because of him. Max is kissing his neck and embracing him. Max, Max, Max, here for him and him alone. His hands snake up and around Max's back to grip the fabric there and hold on tight.
"Mm. 'M close. You ready for it?"
"Please, please, pleaseâŚ" His whispered begging is punctuated only by the sobs still bubbling up out of him.
"Ugh. Fuck yeah. Lemme give it to you baby." And then Max tunnels deep, pressing hard as he can, filling Darryl completely.
"AhâŚ" Darryl weakly clenches around him, milking him for everything he has, trying to make his orgasm feel as pleasurable as possible.
Max lets out a low groan, his hips giving tiny aborted thrusts as his cock jerks inside of that impossibly tight hole. Then he relaxes to stillness, letting his breathing slow, settling over Darryl like a weighted blanket.
Fear of what comes next keeps Darryl from moving a muscle. He wants to stay here, in this moment, forever. His whole body aches--his chest, his face, his throat, his ass, his insides. His back and knees from where they've dragged against the rough ground. His heart, from all it's suffered tonight. He'd take these present pains a thousand times over what might come next. Because if, after all this, Max is going to leave him, he doesn't think he can handle it.
At that thought, his weeping intensifies again, his body heaving under Max's weight. But then Max's hands are cupping his face and wiping his tears.
"Stop crying, man. Ain't we good now?" Darryl wants to roll his eyes. Max sucks at this, has always sucked at this. But Darryl's getting more gentleness from him that he ever has before, and for Max, it must mean a great deal. He's trying.
"Yeah. We good," Darryl answers hoarsely. It's easier for him to say than "I'm sorry" or "What the fuck is your problem" or "What happens next?" In a way, he appreciates Max's total emotional ineptitude. It means the bar is low for them both.
"Good." And with that, Max is pulling out, lifting himself from Darryl's debauched body. The cold returns, unpleasantly chilling the layer of sweat that covers him. He blushes and makes a face when he feels a glob of thick cum spill from his abused hole. He's so sure that as much as he hurts all over now, tomorrow (today? he wearily notes the sunrise beginning to color the windows) will be so much worse.
"You got any vaseline at home?" Max has already dusted himself off and tucked his cock away.
"Yup."
"Good. Use it for your ass, it'll help with any burnin'."
"Where'd a guy like you learn a thing like that, huh?" Darryl regrets the question as soon as it comes out. He'd meant it innocently enough. The last thing he wants to do is challenge Max again. He's tired of butting heads for now.
But the dig he expects in return never comes. Max answers him honestly. "Janine. She said it helped when we did it up the butt."
"Really? Janine let you hit it back there?" Darryl laughs. He tugs off the remains of his ruined shirt and uses it to wipe up the mess dripping from him. He makes sure to dab up stray stains on the floor too, not wanting their haunt to stink like cum and sex next time their friends come 'round.
"Brother, it was her who brought it up," Max says with a chuckle. This is nice, Darryl thinks. This is normal. He scrubs the last of his tears from his face.
Max gathers up Darryl's dusty clothes and tosses them in his general direction. He shakily gets to his feet and makes himself decent again. His head is starting to ache--he guesses that's the hangover kicking in.
"I'll bring lube next time. Won't hurt so bad then," Max offers. Darryl shoots him a questioning look.
"Next time?" Desperately, he hopes the yearning doesn't show in his tone.
"What, you think I'm gonna let an ass like that go to waste now that I've tapped it just the once?" Max accompanies the words with a playful slap to Darryl's butt.
Darryl smiles, despite himself.
"Ugh. My mom's gonna flip when she sees my clothes."
"Let's hit up Dino's shop. He lets me do laundry free there."
Darryl nods, after a moment. "Alright. Yeah. Coffee after?"
"You're payin'."
The two friends stride out into the street. Darryl spares the rotting building one final look, knowing his memories of it will be forever defined by the night they've shared. And then he turns his face to the sunlight and lets it warm him inside and out.
I was thinking of an Off the Wall! Michael fic where he and Reader are best friends. At that time he was very close to Diana, so Reader and Michael (mostly mj) are talking about her, but then Reader gets jealous, and in a fit of jealousy he kisses him and things escalateÂż
Maybe some angst could be added, maybe Joseph realized what Reader felt before Michael did or something like that
idk, I feel like my explanation is super vague đâđť
"Stop talkin', I love you."
Michael Jackson (Off the Wall! Era) x Male AMAB!reader.
tags: slight angst, fluff, smut, best friends to lovers, arguments, jealousy, hate, hidden feelings, love confession, insecurity, reassurance, virgin Michael, experienced reader, first time, losing virginity, gentle sex, tears, oral (reader giving), fingering, rimming, spit as lube, breeding.
Word count: 5555
Note: I'm sorry for not including Joseph. I lowkey could not figure out a way to do that in a satisfying way, but I did include some angst like you asked!
Diana. That name left your best friend's mouth way too damn often. And every time, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
Michael talked about her so often sometimes, it felt like she had put him under a spell.
It was quite obvious, that Michael had a lot of trust in the woman, but something about her just did not sit right. Ever.
Yet, that did not stop Michael from talking your ear off about her constantly. It's all about how she's this and that, how she's so nice, the perfect woman, how beautiful she is.
You sat on his bed, now late at night because you had come over to play some Twister and talk about Michaelâs music. Which, was a topic you actually enjoyed. You loved hearing him talk about his work, the way his eyes lit up, his voice got so excited, the way he started to gesture with his hands. It was the cutest thing ever.
Yet, not even 30 minutes into your hangout, a game of Twister now abandoned on the floor as Michael was in the middle of yet another rant when you suddenly had enough. His words had honestly turned into background noise a few minutes ago, when you had begun to  dissociate trough the one sided conversation.
"Mike, please. I'm sorry, but I do not want to hear another word about Diana Ross."
Michael, abruptly stopped mid-sentence, looked at you with an unreadable expression. Sort of like, he was both shocked, yet kind of expected your reaction a little at the same time. Â His eyebrows knit together a little as he fidgeted with his hands.
"But I don't even talk about her that much, why can't I talk about her?" He asked with genuine confusion. Poor Michae, had no idea how much of his time he actually spent mentioning her. It wasnât even always constant, sometimes it was just a mention of âDiana would like thisâ or âif only Diana were here to see thisâ. But it had gotten out of hand.
"You really think that? Cause to me it seems like you don't even want to talk about anything else anymore, it's all Diana this, Diana that. We uses to talk about music, our interests, animals, yet now all you talk about is that woman."
His face visibly scrunched together at the "that woman". Like you had insulted her.
"Don't call her that. Her name is Diana."
You rolled your eyes. Great, you thought. Now heâs defending him.
Exactly what you needed. To sound like the villain, the guy who had some unreasonable hate for an innocent woman.
 What has that full grown woman been doing around a kid as young as he was when they met? And now getting the same kid talk about her like the love of his life, in his adulthood.  You did not like it. One bit.
One part of you said that the reason you couldn't stand Diana, was because something was off about her. The way she talked, the closeness with Michael, how he seemed to trust her with everything. How throughout childhood you remembered she was always so close to Michael, always around and he was already attached to her hip.
The other part, the one you try your hardest to ignore, knows that the reason you can't stand her so badly, is because you're in love with Michael. You have been for a while now. You don't remember exactly when or how it started, but you know the feelings were certainly not anything new. They had been brewing and brewing, until lately Michael's constant mentions of Diana had only made things worse.
You wanted Michael to yourself. For him to be yours to hold, to kiss, to fall asleep next to.
You tried telling yourself that he doesn't feel the same way, and you should move on. Even if there was a chance he felt the same, he is incredibly famous and would probably have no time for a relationship.
You tried to swallow these feelings, but everything the lump in your throat only got bigger and bigger, until it felt like it was suffocating and not moving anywhere anymore.
It was impossible to ignore. Like a sharp pebble in your shoe.
 You snap back to reality when Michael calls your name, making you aware of the fact you had dissociated once again.
"You there? You've been silently starinâ at my carpet for like 2 minutes now, I was starting to worry you'd burn a hole through it." Michael adds one of his soft laughs to release the tension.
One thing he doesn't know, the laugh only makes things way worse. Now you can't stop replaying the sound in your head. The breathy softness, the ease, the way it sounded so pretty even though he was teasing you a second before.
You finally look up to meet his doe brown eyes, feeling yourself already getting lost in them.
You cringed slightly at how pathetic that sounded. You had begun to be unable to look away from him lately. If you did, it was like the previous episode of dissociation, where you'd zone out completely just so you didn't have to listen to anything he says about the topic you so despised.
"Yeah. I'm okay Michael. But please. Stop talkinâ about Diana. It's getting real annoying."
That came out a little meaner than you originally had planned, making it sound like you're annoyed at him, not Diana.
"...I'm annoying you?"
You could see his eyes getting the slightest of glossy, as he tried to not let the tears escape.
You knew he hates feeling like he's annoying or "too much", and right now you did exactly that. You had made him feel like you were annoyed at HIM, not the topic he was repeating over and over.
You instantly felt your heart drop to your stomach as you realized what you had done, but it was too late. You noticed a tear escape in the corner of his eye, as he tried to avoid eye contact with you, embarrassed that he was crying over such a meaningless thing at his age.
But, you did not find it even the slightest bit of embarrassing. You knew how hard it was for him to make friends due to being so famous, and how much it meant to him to have a friend he can feel open and safe with. How painful it was for him, to feel like he was being too much. You did not blame him for this reaction.
You blamed yourself for making him feel like he was the problem. Like he had to tone himself down for you.
He wipes his eye and pouts slightly, turning away from you.
"Mâsorry for annoying you I guess... I did not know I was so bothersome."
You felt yourself frown at that. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
"No no no Mikey, please I'm so sorry, I did not mean it like that and you know it. I am not annoyed at YOU, I'm annoyed at the fact you always talk about Diana."
He finally looks at you.
"What is your problem with Diana? What did she ever do to you for you to be so annoyed at her? Did she say something to you?" His voice now trembling a little.
"She is nothing but kind to me, why would she bother you? I don't even see you two interact together. What could she have possibly done for you to be this upset at her?" His voice only got higher and higher. It sounded so wrong, Michael, who usually had such a soft way of speaking, never raising his voice around you, suddenly was speaking in such a way that made something turn in your stomach.
Partly, because he was poking you for an answer. An answer about why exactly you disliked Diana. Why. Why did you hate her so much? Well, that answer was pretty clear. You were in love. For fucks sake, you were so in love with him, it made it hard to fall asleep most nights. It's like you woke up in a cold sweat after yet another dream about him, unable to think about anything else because in the dreams he was so close, so soft, so... yours. And it felt so real.
That was the worst part. It did not feel like a dream, like something distant, fake, made up by your hippocampus. Yet, your amygdala always lit up like a damn Christmas tree, quick to add the intense emotions you could not escape already in your waking life.
Even in sleep you were trapped.
You looked at his face, staring back at you with an upset expression and a pout. Even now he looked so beautiful. The tear stained cheeks, the flushed cheeks, the slightly red eyes. He was beautiful even when upset at you.
"Tell me why you hate her!" His voice suddenly snapped you back to reality once again.
Enough is enough, you thought. There was no way you could keep this to yourself anymore. To suffer like this, and make him suffer because you couldn't keep it a secret anymore.
"Tell me or I will ask her myse-"
You cut him off with your lips on his.
Horrible, horrible idea you thought. Fuck. This was truly the worst idea you have ever had. To kiss someone while you had no idea how they felt about you, AND was upset because of you?
Such a stupid, impulsive idea. Or, so you thought. Because while you kept panicking in your head, something in you was not ready to pull back, pretend it was an accident, apologize and move on. Something, had already gotten addicted to the softness of Michael's plush lips, the warmth, the slight wetness from where he kept licking them earlier. Something you had noticed he does quite often when nervous.
You were too busy analyzing the feeling of his lips on yours, to realize he had closed his previously widened eyes, and pressed back into you softly.
He was kissing you back.
You felt his hand reach up to your sweater, clutching it to pull you even closer, if that were possible. His hand slightly shook as tried to keep himself steady during the whole situation.
Which was hard. Because, fuck. You were kissing him. On the lips. The kiss was quick, more like a peck, soft and unsure. Unsure about whether you were allowed to do this, not if you wanted it. You know you wanted it more than anything.
You pull back only to see him follow your lips slightly, as if expecting another kiss, not wanting to separate. You watch his eyes softly flutter open again, his mouth parted slightly as he tried to process what had happened just now.
"I don't like you talkinâ about her because I'm in love with you, idiot."
You finally said it. You said the words. You didn't even care so much about the part where you didn't like talking about her, but the excitement of your love confession made your skin buzz. It felt so real as the words left your mouth. As if you had spoken them out into the real world, and suddenly they gained gravity. Like they were actually out there, and not hanging in the space between real life and your mind.
Michael flicked his eyes up to look you in the eyes and smiled softly while letting out a soft breath of air as a laugh.
"I'm not the only idiot here, I've been in love with you too, but you were just too dumb to see it. " He smiled again, as it was now your turn to process that whole sentence.
He's been in love with you as well. You weren't just stupidly in love with someone you couldn't have, you were stupidly in love with someone, who felt the same type of dumb love for you.
It all felt so unreal, like you were dreaming again. You almost looked down at your hand to count your fingers, try to put your hand through your palm, read a clock, something to test if you were in some sort of lucid dream.
Because there was no way this was truly happening.
There is no way, your long time crush just confessed back to you.
But, it was very much real. And now, Michael was pulling you back in closer again. Your mind went a little blank, but you quickly regained consciousness once you realized what he wanted. He was trying to get you to kiss him again. To feel your lips dance against his this time, sure of it.
Your lips touched again, but this time you both pushed in for more. Closer. Your hand found his waist and squeezed slightly, which made him let out a little gasp, giving you an opportunity to slip your tongue in.
You could tell he was inexperienced by the kiss, but he was not bad.
Your tongues pressed together as your lips continued to move, teeth clacking slightly at the awkward position, which you corrected quickly by pulling him into your lap and tilting your head to the side.
Your hands now found the dip of his back, moving lower, lower, until it found his ass.
You pulled back a little to give him a look, asking for permission, which was granted as he responded with a little nod, going back to capture your lips as if he couldn't get enough. Neither of you could. His large hand had come up to your cheek, the other tangled in the hair on the base of your neck.
Giving his ass a squeeze with both hands now, you could tell Michael got a little more shy again, but you could tell he wanted to continue. You turned both of you around, laying him down on the bed you were sitting on, leaning over him without breaking the kiss.
Your knee found its way between Michaelâs thigs, arms on either side of his head. You break the kiss and lean back slightly âDo you want to continue Mikey? â asking for consent.
Michael nods. âyes⌠yes I want it. Iâm not experienced, but I want to⌠toâŚâ
You smirk a little at his shyness. Adorable.
âWhat is it that you want angel face? Tell me.â
He visibly blushes an even deeper shade of crimson at the name. He loved when you called him that, he always got so shy, trying to hide his face from your view. Which, is what he tried to do now as well. Turning his head to the side and biting his lip.
âYou.. you canât just call me thatâŚâ
âWhy not? You like it. Donât lie to me.â
âI do! But.. yâknow it gets me shyâŚâ
You chuckle softly. âyeah, I know. Thatâs why I say it pretty.â
A new name you hadnât called him before, except when complimenting him and calling him pretty. âYou look pretty today Michaelâ is something youâd say sometimes. But you have never used âprettyâ as a petname before.
He hits you chest slightly and pouts. âStop callinâ me all sorts of sweet names, you gonna make me pass out hereâ
You lean closer to his ear and whisper
âoh weâre just getting started baby. Youâll have plenty of time for passinâ out later.â
That sent a shiver down his spine. Excitement. Nerves. He knew both of you were on the same page now, both of you wanting more. But, he knew you knew he wasnât experienced. That alone made you even more excited, knowing you could be the one to be his first. It made you feel even more special.
Hell, that could be his first kiss for all you knew. Knowing him, it probably was. He wasnât the type to go mess around with random strangers. He was looking for something real. And the fact that he was willing to let you have him like this, told you he wasnât just seeing you as a meaningless crush, but as something more. Something real. Something possible.
You left a trail of kisses from his jaw, down to his neck which made him shiver. He hadnât imagined getting his neck kissed would feel this good. But, to your luck, he was very sensitive around his neck area, evident by the soft noise that escaped his lips and made you smile into the kisses.
 You decided to test the waters even more, by giving his soft warm skin a little bite. Not harsh, just ever so slightly nibbling with your teeth around the area where his jugular vein was. Soft breaths filling your ears only made you harder.
You lifted the hem of his shirt, pulling it off his frame and tossing it somewhere in the room, not caring where it landed. You looked down to see the obvious bulge in Michaelâs pants, licking your lips before moving down until your head was face to face with Michaelâs crotch.
âw-wha- what are you doinâ â
You smile up at him and reach up to push his chest down so he lays back down.
âshh, just relax, Iâll take care of you baby.â
 He laid back down and shut his eyes out of nervousness and pure arousal, as he had never been this horny before. He wanted this so bad, but he didnât even know what âthisâ was, he didnât know where he even wanted to start. His nerves completely scrambling his brain.
He hadnât even noticed you pulling his pants down and freeing his cock which now rested against his stomach, pre already dripping down from his slit. His eyes flew open as he felt your breath against the tip of his cock, before you gave it a few soft kitten licks, tasting the salty flavor, which made you hum.
His hand flew to your head, grabbing the hair but not pushing, trying to anchor himself into reality. His mind was buzzing.
You gave the underside of his flushed cock a long lick, before going down and letting his shaft fill your throat. He was big, making you choke slightly at the size.
âmhmph im s-sorryâ Even like this, he is ever so gentle and soft. His politeness was one of his most attractive and cute parts of him.
You hummed as you began to move up and down, applying a light suction and jerking the base of his cock where your mouth couldnât reach. Because yes, he was that big. Big enough to leave some of the shaft unreachable by your mouth, unless you were really pushing yourself.
He was now moaning, still shy about it and trying to silence himself with a trembling hand over his parted lips, the other bunched in the sheets now after abandoning your locks.
You pull off his cock for a quick second to speak, jerking it with your hand and reach up with the other to pull his hand off his mouth.
 âDonât. let me hear you Mike. You sound so pretty. â
He nodded shyly, his curls bouncing across his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. He bunched his now free hand into the sheets as well, as you went down to give attention to his throbbing length again.
Your tongue found his slit and played with it, which only made him even more twitchy and let out another louder moan. His back arched involuntarily and he could not stop his hips from thrusting ever so slightly into his mouth, like his body moved without his control. âmâso sorry⌠mâso sorry, I canât help it⌠feels sâ good⌠oh godâŚâ
He thought he was hurting you. When actually, the thrusts only made your eyes roll back as his tip hit the back of your throat while you took him even deeper. You loved the feeling of choking on his cock, gagging slightly and humming in pleasure.
âglk glk glk â and wet, filthy sounds as well as Michaelâs shy moans that escaped every once in a while despite him trying his very best to keep them in, were the only noise filling the room.
His hips were thrusting more erratic, his moans had gotten more high pitched and his cock throbbed in your throat which all pointed to him getting close. Before he could cum though, you pilled off his cock and leaned back up. He had covered his eyes with his forearm, mouth open and letting out little gasps.
You have him a kiss on the cheek before trailing more down his chest and to his stomach, until eventually you found his thighs.
The first kiss you left on his inner thigh made him jerk slightly.
The first bite got a whine. Noted. He was sensitive around his thighs as well. Perfect. You left a trail of licks as you kept moving closer and closer to his hole.
âThis might feel a little weird at first baby, but I promise it will feel real good after. â
You watch as he looks down at you with his doe eyes, and nods. He watches you with such attention its actually adorable. Â
You pull him closer to you by his thighs, which gets a surprised yelp from him, and you push his legs back towards his chest by his thighs, giving you a better view of his ass.
You move closer to his hole, giving it a little testing lick. A gasp leaves his lips, as he had never felt anything like that before. You start licking more, your tongue moving around the rim making everything so wet. You start to push your tongue inside, deeper and deeper, starting to thrust it in and out, sealing your lips around the ring of muscle and sucking slightly.
Gasps and shaky whimpers let you know that whatever you were doing was definitely working. You felt him relax a little bit, which was exactly your goal. You added a finger, still licking at the rim and sucking on it, prepping him slowly and patiently, since it was his first time and you had to go steady. You kept going until you felt him relax even more, getting used to something being inside him.
One finger turned into two, and you were now already scissoring your fingers to open him up a little more, earning even more gasps from him. Your fingers hooked a little, adding pleasure and distracting him from the slight burn of being opened up for the first time.
When you felt like he was prepped enough, you removed your fingers from his hole and pulled the waistband of your sweatpants off, revealing your hardened cock with no underwear. Your tip was flushed an angry red, desperate and leaking.
You liked to wear no underwear sometimes, including now. Your pants fell on the floor as you stepped out of them, kicking them away god knows where and abandoning them, before you took your own shirt off, and pulling Michael to the edge of the bed where you now stood.
You looked him in the eyes as you spit on your hand and gave your cock a few pumps, asking for permission.
âYou ready? Itâs gonna hurt a little at first, try to relax.â
Michael couldnât do anything but nod and look at your cock. You were big too, thick, delicious.
His mouth watered at the sight. He desperately wanted to try sucking your dick, even though he had never done it before. But, for you he wanted to try. He wanted to taste it, to feel it in his mouth, his spongy throat. To make you feel good. But the need to be filled up by you was just as strong, almost pulling him into two directions. Suck your dick, or have it inside of him.
âdonât drown in your drool there angel face. You can blow me another time, right now just let me make you feel good.â
He snapped back to reality and nodded, excitement buzzing under his skin again.
You take your stiff cock and rest the tip against his entrance, pushing up against it slightly, but not quite inside yet. Just easing him to the feeling of it.
He let out a little impatient whine, which made you smirk again.
âPatience love, good things come with waiting.â You finally decided to stop teasing, and pushed in slowly. So slowly, as gently as you can to not overwhelm him and make this a bad experience. You were trying your hardest to not hurt him, to make him feel good so he can remember losing his virginity as something good, pleasurable, happy, not painful and rushed.
You had the patience of a saint, especially when you knew you had to be considerate of him. He however, did not. He wanted you to fuck him for so long, and now that it was actually happening, he was still shy no doubt, but itâs like his body made up for the lack of words leaving his mouth, speaking on itâs own.
He had never felt this kind of feeling before, this electrifying want, that made his eyes glassy and chest rise and fall so quickly like he had just ran a marathon. He wanted to be filled so bad. Itâs like his body recognized something his mind didnât quite yet. Like, he felt this was the most natural thing in the world. This was a need, not a want.
A gasp left his lips once again, as you kept pushing in deeper and deeper, until you were all the way in. You rested there for a bit, letting him adjust to your length filling him up, letting him stretch around your shaft, hearing him hasp and let out loud breaths form his mouth which was hanging open now. You kissed his cheek and neck again, murmuring soft praises and reassurance, making him relax more.
âshhh shh shh⌠I know baby, I know. Youâre alright. Youâre doing so good Mikey, so good.â
He practically melted at your words, turning into jelly under your arms. One of your hands trailed softly against his hip, to give it a soft rub to ease him. After he relaxed and settled more into the sheets, you kissed him again before taking one of his hands and pressing it next to his head, interlocking your fingers.
âYou ready baby? Iâm gonna move now.â
He nods again. âBe gentle please⌠â
Now was your time to nod. âOf course angel, Iâm gonna be real soft witâ you tonight. â
With that, you slowly started to pull out, not all the way, but just enough to make a difference. Your movements were shallow at first, to get him used to the feeling.
Soft moans replace a hiss, letting you know that he is starting to feel pleasure, instead of pain. Your thrusts got less and less shallow, until you could pull almost all the way out before pushing back in. You werenât gonna slam in fast yet, is what you thought as moans filled the room. You groaned at the tightness of Michael squeezing around your cock.
âMore. Faster⌠mghhhh,,â He had started to softly push back into your dick as he got more used to the pleasure, chasing more like he couldnât get enough.
He wanted more, so you were gonna give him more. Your pace quickened a little, still careful to not overdo it, as wet slaps filled the room now.
After a moment, you halted your movements which earned a whine from under you, as you reached for Michaelâs waist to gently flip him over onto his stomach, raising his hips up a bit and spreading his legs again, you lined up and pushed back in.
Michael let out a pleased sigh, now addicted to the feeling of being filled up. You could already tell he is gonna be a handful to deal with, now that heâs gotten a taste.
You started to move again, this time even quicker and deeper, earning a whole new genre of noises leaving Michaels lips. He let out a little choke at one point, and you noticed the tears spilling out of his eyes. You halted your movements once again, worried it was too much for him. âAre you okay baby? Did I hurt you?â
âNO! no⌠no you didnât⌠please. Please donât stop. It feels so goodâŚâ He managed to choke out before leaning back to fuck himself on your cock all by himself now. That visual only made you even more turned on. Fuck, he looked so fucking good splitting himself open onto your thick length like that. So desperate, so pathetic. Like a fucking puppy.
âFuck baby, you look so hot right now, I wish you could see yourself.â
You saw the back of Michaelâs neck and tips of his ears turn red, and leaned down to lay some gentle kisses on his neck from the back, nibbling softly to get a shudder down his spine.
You began to move your hips again, now both of you moving against each other in a perfect rhythm, chasing your release.
âYouâre doing so good baby. So goodâŚmaking me feel so good. Fuck.â
You grabbed his hips on both sides and started to pull his ass back onto your cock even faster, making him moan out louder and push the side of his face into the pillow under him.
âIâm gonna cum inside you, yeah baby? Dâyou want that?â
With his face smushed into the pillow, he tried to answer between his whimpers, voice slightly muffled in the pillow.
âYes, yes, please, make me yours, fill me up please I beg youâŚâ
Make him yours⌠That is exactly what you wanted. The ache for that was underneath your skin, unsatisfied and denied for an agonizingly long time, but right at this moment, it felt so close. So real. You could finally reach out to it, the light of hope warming your skin like a sun beam.
Make him yours.
Have him all to yourself, let no one else have him.
Be his, have no one else.
 No one else mattered.
Not at this moment, not ever.
Both of you could feel your release approach, Michaelâs moans getting whinier, his hole even tighter, squeezing you even more as if heâs trying to choke you. You yourself had thrown your head back and let out gasps of pleasure.
You leaned over him now, caging him in under your arms as you began to move at an even faster, almost animalistic pace. The thrusts made his cheeks jiggle and slap with a nasty, loud sound. Both of you were so fucking close. You reached around to stroke his cock at the pace of your thrusts, wanting him to cum before you, like the gentleman that you were.
âIâm- Iâm gonna- fUhhk Iâm-â
 He could barely let a word escape his lips, but you understood him. You already knew he was gonna cum. And very soon.
âCome for me baby, let go, itâs okay.â
You could barely finish your sentence, as like on cue, he came with a loud whine, spurting cum all over his belly and chest, some spilling over your hand as you stroked him through his orgasm.
You kept thrusting into his now overstimulated hole, chasing your own release as well.
You finally came with a loud groan right in his ear, which sent another shiver down his spine, filling him up to the brim with your hot load.
He moaned at the feeling of being filled, plopping down onto the bed like his muscles stopped working.
You slowly pulled out of him, your head spinning ever so slightly, you are sure you had never cum like this before.
You look down at Michael, who looks so fucked out, resting against the sheets, unable to move. âYou okay baby? How do you feel?â You check up on him, brushing a few curls away from his sticky forehead.
âMmhPmhh⌠sâgoodâŚâ he had this dopey smile on his face, so smug and satisfied. He looked high. Perhaps he was. High on the feeling of having his brains fucked out like that, cummed inside of and loved so tenderly. Yeah, he was high. Not on drugs, but on love. On pleasure.
You smiled yourself as you gently rubbed his back an kissed his tear stained cheeks. âYâdid so good for me baby. Such a good boy⌠Iâm proud of you, angel face.â
He shut his eyes and smiled even more, satisfied as he laid there.
You got up to clean him up, after which you held him in your arms and gently stroked his back, leaving soft little kisses on his head every once in a while.
âYou were so sweet⌠thank you⌠â He managed to croak out, just when you thought he had fallen asleep.
âOf course baby, You deserve the best.â
Both of you rested like that for a while, until you felt his breaths become more soft, body completely limp in your arms, as he drifted off to sleep with you following short after.
Tomorrow you might wake up, talk about tonight, your feelings, what to do next, but for now, the two of you lay tangled up with satisfied smiles and exhausted bodies.
Idk if this is just me AND NO SHADE TO ANYONE i love all mj fics but i physically cannot imagine michael as a hard!dom. Sorry im a sub/soft dom truther... is this just me?...yes?...ok. i just cannot imagine him being like...aggressive or degrading....looks to my left...looks to my right..gulps...
