angel

sideblog. 19. he/they. michaelbrain

[hisgoodfish]

hii im angel, i made this sideblog for michael and so i could put my thoughts somewhere else than my head. i'll probably write male!reader x michael drabbles from time to time, i forget tumblr exists every few months :p plus theres a DROUGHT of male reader fics.

im black + asian, 19 and Like really really gay. Expect rlly homosexual self indulgent fics :)

masterlist divider by @dollywons

[callmeoncette]

Werewolf Michael boyfriend hcs

sfwish version! there’s a small moment of groping but that’s all

⋆☾⋆ is already a sweetie, cutie pie, baby boy, sugar bear, and every other cutesy name out there normally….but the week before the full moon??? It’s off the charts!

⋆☾⋆ makes it his mission to be the first person the compliment you everyday. The world would simply explode if he didn’t remind you of how beautiful and amazing you were. It’s just…the closer to full moon night he gets the more….creative….his compliments seem. “Your eyes are so pretty…” “awww thank you Mike-“ “I’d probably kill the next person you look they’re so pretty…” “…” “ya know…cuz you’d be looking at them and not me.”

⋆☾⋆ like their animal counterparts, werewolves are pack animals. They’re affectionate and are rarely alone. So the week leading to your boyfriend’s “time of the month” be ready for him to become your shadow. You walk to get a snack in the kitchen? He sitting on the counter gossiping away as you fix yourself something. You head out to check the mail? He’s right beside you side eyeing the paperboy and mailman. You have to use the bathroom? “Anyone ever tell you how cute you look while you pee?” “Get out!”

⋆☾⋆ in addition to following you he’s way more touchy. He always has a hand on you somewhere….anywhere. So don’t be surprised if you wake up after dozing off during a little movie night with him and he’s casually groping you with one hand and eating popcorn with the other.

⋆☾⋆ this mf becomes the definition of possessive!!! He can somewhat play nonchalant and chill normally but when the full moon comes closer he can’t stand people encroaching on whatever (or whoever) he claimed. His big bright eyes that usually seem so warm and inviting harden into steel like voids the second someone gets too close to you. You’re shocked the first time you hear the deep chilling growl bubble from his chest when someone has the nerve to talk to you and take your attention off of him.

⋆☾⋆ when the actual full moon comes and he transforms he’s worried. Yes he told you about him turning and prepared for any possibility but he didn’t know if he could handle you staring at him in fear. Looking at him as if he were the monster he was. He actually lost sleep thinking about it.

⋆☾⋆ color him shocked when your eyes aren’t wide with fear but concern! The process of turning under the full moon is extremely painful and while he’s somewhat gotten used to it over the years it still isn’t something he looks forward to. He never noticed how his face scrunched up in anguish or how he’d groan in pain. But you did. It lead to you babying him with tears in your eyes until the sore feeling faded. After that he may or may not exaggerate how he’s feeling so you’ll shower him with kisses every time he turns.

⋆☾⋆ in his werewolf form he is the biggest puppy dog ever! The first thing he does is that sniff test dogs do to their owners after not seeing them for a bit. He mostly does it to hear you laugh because you’ve told him it tickles and how cold his nose is.

⋆☾⋆ the second thing he does is eat you out of house and home! He rarely eats normally but it’s like the wolf is determined to make up for it and eats anything in sight. The kfc family buckets became your life line.

⋆☾⋆ once he’s had his fill he’s ready to play! He wants to play and chase you all night if he can. You even convinced him to play fetch. At first he took offense because he’s not some mindless pet dog you can just throw a stick for…..but after you threw the stick he suddenly had a new understanding for dogs.

⋆☾⋆ he’ll hunt something for you every time and will take it really personal if you don’t like it. So you force a smile and take it so he can growl and howl all happy while running around.

⋆☾⋆ when it starts getting later and the moon is falling you head to bed while he continues his playing and prowling. When the sun does start to rise and he turns back he climbs into bed with you slowly so he doesn’t disturb you. He’ll wrap his arms around you and drift off himself grateful you love him enough to not be scared off.

⋆☾⋆ “you’re really not scared of me? Not even a little?” “Michael….I watched you run into a tree following a butterfly once. The scariest thing about you is your inability to wink.” “Hey!”

[lovelyways]

Michael and Louie (1983) ♡

[prettyangeliczz]

well, i have thoughts, plenty of thoughts. his watches, yum.

[amnesia-sc]

[hisgoodfish]

yup youre becoming a photocard yup nothing u can do about it sorry happy pride month jaafar

[fusebl0wn]

june 24 2009

[hisgoodfish]

shoots myself in the head

[supernovelnova]

Beauty in The Eye of The Beholder

Michael Jackson x Male!Reader

Featuring: Artist Reader, Insecure Michael, Morning Sex, Anal- Michael bottoming.

A/N- sorry for the long wait, NSFW fics don’t glow as easy in my mind as SFW, I get caught up in making sure it’s not too horrible rushed and makes sense :,)

Sleep had always eluded Michael. He was the last to fall asleep, and the first to rise. Usually.

This morning was a rare occasion; for once, you had woken to Michael's sleeping figure, softly snoring from behind you. You had no intention of disrupting him, you would've laid there all day if you had to- if it weren't for the pressure growing in your bladder.

It took a few minutes to successfully detangle yourself from Michael without waking him up. And by the time you got back, he was still fast asleep. Not wanting to wake him up— because, god, did he need more sleep — you decided to one something else to do, rather than getting back in bed with him.

Not straying far, you grabbed your charcoals, curling up in a chair in the corner of the room. It was a perfect vantage point for drawing your muse, fitting too, to have chosen charcoal as your medium, when Michael had been the one to buy them for you.

You hadn't intended on buying anything when you had stepped into that pricey art store, you just wanted a look, some inspiration. But of course, Michael had noticed your eyes lingering, and had attempted to buy the store's entire stock. It had taken a lot of pleading to make him knock it off, you even had to drag the man out of the store by his sleeve. It didn't end there though, as things never do when it comes to Michael; he tends to always get his way. The next day when you came home, there they were, the pack of charcoal sticks on the table, surrounded by high quality papers, powders, brushes, and blending stubs. Michael had looked up at you with pleading eyes and a soft smile, making it impossible to be upset with him.

It took a while to get used to drawing with charcoal, it left a mess on you hands and smudged easily. Each new attempt had left you frustrated and willing to give up, to trash the damn things and get it over with- but every time, Michael would beg to see what you had made — how could you deny him? —and deemed it fine art of the highest praise. He'd been the one to buy you the materials, and he was the reason you stuck with it.

Finally confident in your skills, it was time to draw him, and now was as good a time as ever.

His sleeping face held a softness to it, none of the stress he tried to dampen in your presence, nor any of the false joy he put on around fans. It was purely Michael.

The sun was starting to seep in the windows, softly illuminating his face, amplifying his beauty.

First you sketched an outline of his sleeping figure, one arm curled behind his head, and one stretched out in the spot you had previously lied in, reaching out for you in your absence. You sketched the blankets draped over his lower half, the minor divot in the mattress where he lay.

His mouth was slightly ajar, lashes fanning down on his cheeks. His hair was untamed, splayed on the bed behind him, on the pillows, curls laying across his face.

You had drawn his jaw and nose, beginning to shade them in as he began to stir. His arm slowly stretched further across the bed, feeling for you, his eyes fluttering open as he realized you were missing.

"Mmm, wha' you doin' over there…" Michael's voice was rough and sloppy with fatigue, he took in a deep breath, rubbing his eyes as he shifted in the bed, propping himself up as he leaned on his arm.

"Just admiring the view" You replied, tearing you eyes away from his form as you attempted to finish the sketch of his prior position before his new one distracted you.

'Nothin' special to draw here, don't waste that charcoal."

Your eyes flick up from the drawing pad. Michael was now avoiding your look, staring straight up at the ceiling instead, watching the fan go around and round…

"Don't say that, Michael". You slowly rise from the chair, the portrait of Michael still in your hands, the charcoal long forgotten.

He finally turns his head to you, glancing at the drawing pad in you hand. "You make me look better than I actually do." He whispers.

"Bullshit." Despite the harsh word, your tone was soft. You reach Michael in the bed, placing the picture on one of the pillows as you climb over to him. "I could never capture you in all your beauty, nobody could, you're far beyond the capacity of man."

"I wouldn't say that-" he begins, but you cut him off, reaching out to cradle his face. "I would. And I mean it. You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen, Michael."

Your hand moves,tracing the bridge of his nose, the charcoal on you hands smearing on his face. Your fingers move down to his mouth, it's still parted slightly, his breathing is labored, like he's attempting to restrain — to soothe — himself. His tongue quickly darts out to wet his lips, and licks the tips of your fingers.

You move to settle between his legs, pushing the blanket away as he adjusts to your body against his. Your hand moves down to the crook of his neck, your thumb resting on his adam's apple.

"Don't say that," He whispers. You can feel his throat bobbing under your fingers.

"Why not?" You ask. "Do I need to show you how beautiful you are, how much I love you?" You begin to kiss down his chest, down to his navel, ignoring his cock filling out, and moving down between his legs. Michael's breath, stutters, and you look back up at him, admiring the trail of charcoal your hands have left on his body. His brows are furrowed slightly as he closes his eyes and begins to tilt his head of the the ceiling.

"No- Michael, sweetheart, look at me."

He swallows, and obeys, looking down at you through his lashes.

Under his gaze, you kiss the inside of his thighs, letting out a breathy chuckle as his muscles tense under your attention. You spread his legs further, and press a soft kiss against his hole.

He lets out a gasp, one of his hands moving down to your hair. "That's not- That's not fair…"

"What's not?" You lick up stripe up from his ass to his balls.

"You teasin' me like that! Kissin' all over me…" His fingers grab at the hair close to your scalp before releasing again, caressing you with shaky fingers.

"M'not teasing you, Mikey, just admiring you. Proving to you how pretty you are." And with that, you get back to work, softly licking and kissing him, hooking an arm beneath his leg to hike it up on your shoulder, granting you more entry.

Michael digs his heel into your back, hips tensing as he strained under your attention.

"C'mon…please…" He continues whining above you.

You relent, emerging from between his thighs, resting your face where his thigh meets his stomach, just inches away from his cock. "Please, what?"

"Touch me! Quit playin'…"

"I am touchin' you, is this not enough for you, pretty boy?"

He throws his head back, frustrated.

"Oh…I see" You move back, using a finger to circle his hole. "You want me to touch you." You bring you fingers to your mouth to spit on them, before bringing them back to him and prodding.

His leg on the bed spread even further, the one on your back digging in as he tries to gain more leverage and push into you fingers.

You slip a finger into him, slowly curling it as you kiss his thigh.

Michael begins to shift under you, getting needy.

"Greedy baby." You kiss his flushed tip, slowly swallowing him while to distract him as you insert another finger, slowly working him open.

His breathy moans increase as you continue, lithe muscles flexing as the dual stimulation melts his senses. Beneath you, he's struggling on which direction he seeks attention from, either your fingers in him or your mouth around him.

"Please, please, please…" He begins to mutter.

"What? You need more? Am I not giving you enough?"

"I just-"

You cut him off. "Are you ready for me? Do you think you can take it?"

"Yes! Please, I want it, I want you, all of you."

You slide your fingers out from where he was clenched around you, and he whines at the loss of contact. Eagerly, you peel off the boxers you had haphazardly thrown on earlier that morning, freeing your previously ignored cock from its confines.

Michael glances at you between his legs, and you could swear his pupils grow even larger- if even possible.

His legs wrap around your waist, drawing you closer.

You lean over him, moving to bracket his head with your for arms on the mattress, pausing halfway to align yourself with his hole before slowly pushing in.

The two of you remain still for a few moments as he adjusted. He was gripping you like a vice, and it took all your effort to just stay still.

Your face was inches from him, the two of you breathing into eachother. Michael closed the gap and kisses you, his legs tightening around your waist as you groan.

"Alright, alright, c'mon, please…" He begs.

You pepper kisses down his face to his neck where you bury your head, breathing him in as you begin to move your hips against him, a tantalizing grinding motion.

As your motions begin to quicken, your hips drawing back further and further before you rail back into him, his hands reach up, racking across your skin. One hand grasping at the hair on your nape, the other dragging trails across your back with his blunt nails. Later, he'd apologize, near tears, guilty about hurting you. You'd show him just how much you appreciate those marks, though.

For now, however, you focused on your goal on pleasuring him.

Picking up the pace, you pivot your hips up slightly with every thrust, your cock brushing against his prostate.

With each thrust, Michael let out quite gasps of pleasure.

"'Feels so good…" His hand tightens on your hair, guiding your face up from the crook of his neck so he could kiss you.

It ended up sloppy and wet, too much teeth to be soft, but neither of you wanted to calm your movements, both seeking release in eachother.

"Thank you…'so good to me" Michael's words are split up with kisses peppered to your mouth.

"Shhh…” You silence him, shifting your weight to one arm as your other hand moves to his throat, slightly squeezing.

Michael lets out a groan, his eyelids fluttering at the gesture.

"Just giving you what you need, sweetheart. You deserve the world … 'n so much more." With your words, you quicken your pace, the hand on his throat moving down to grip his cock between your bodies.

Circling your thumb around his head, you smear the precum that had begun to pool, using it to soften the friction as you began to flick your wrist in time with your thrusts.

He begins to babble beneath you, pleading for release.

"You gonna come for me, baby?"

"Yes, yes, please, I need it." His face is contorted with pleasure as he frantically nods. You can feels his muscles beginning to tighten all around you.

"S'alright Angel Face, I got you- I'm right here with you."

When he comes, it's with a final whimper of pleasure, his cum spurting between your fingers, painting your stomachs sticky. His ass tightens around you, and you find you can no longer hold back either, cumming inside him, biting down softly on the crook of his neck.

You both remain still for a while, catching your breaths, the morning sun beaming in through the windows. Michael's hands tracing circles on your back. He's the first to speak, "Did you really mean what you meant earlier?"

You hum questioningly into his neck.

"Y'know…" He trails off, self conscious.

You left your head up, pressing your forehead against his. "I've never meant anything else more. You are the most beautiful man in the world Michael. Don't you ever, not for one second, think anything else."

"You're just sweet on me." He leans up to capture your lips in a slow, soft kiss.

"What, do I need to show you again?"

"Mmm.." He pretends to think for a second. "Maybe once more, just to be sure." He gives you a sly smile.

You chuckle, finally detangling from him, slowly pulling out your softening cock from him as he groans.

"C'mon Mikey, let's go take a shower, we made a mess"

Beneath you, he was glistening with sweat, smudges of charcoal running along his body from where you had touched him, cum spattered on his stomach. Shame the picture would be washed away in the shower. Maybe you should draw him like this sometime.

[mjssluttyfish]

lay back in my tenderness

warnings: 18+ minors dni, cunnilingus, pussy drunk, yearning, coochie warming(lmao), sub!michael, whining, begging, hints of oral fixation, your own personal rose, thriller era!michael, somnophilia, overstimulation if you squint, absolutely no plot.

pairing: michael jackson x fem!reader

wc: 1k+

how could you resist him when he says things like this, while looking up at you like that?

“lay back in my tenderness, lemme taste you girl.”

“ i want to touch you all over, all over baby please I’ll be good for you”

“ i just wanna make you feel good, I’ll be good f’ you”

“lemme just feel it girl, need you on my tongue”

“It’s so cold in here baby, lemme keep her warm for you”

It starts the way it always does with him on his knees.

He's already hard before he even touches you, his cock straining against his jeans as he presses his face into the inside of your thigh. He breathes you in, deep and slow, like a man taking his first lungful of air. His doe eyes are half lidded, dark and glassy, his lips parted. He's not begging yet. Not out loud. But the way his fingers tremble against your skin says everything.

"Please," he finally breathes, voice hoarse. "Please, baby. Let me taste you. Just a little. Just—" He kisses the crease where your thigh meets your hip, tongue darting out to taste salt and warmth. "I need it. I need it."

You barely nod before he's burying his face between your legs.

Michael doesn't start slow. There's no teasing, no gentle buildup. He goes straight for your clit with the flat of his tongue, laving it in long, broad strokes that make your hips jerk. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, holding you open for him like you're a meal he's been starved for. And he has been. Every hour away from you is an hour of withdrawal, of craving, of counting down until he can have this again.

He moans against you, the vibration sending a jolt straight to your core. His tongue flicks faster, circles, presses flat, then flicks again. He's sloppy. Desperate. There's no technique to it just pure, unadulterated hunger. Saliva and your wetness mix together, dripping down his chin, and he doesn't wipe it away. He wears it like a badge of honor.

"Fuck," he mutters against your cunt, the word muffled by your flesh. "Fuck, you taste so fucking good. Sweet. So sweet. I could—" He stops talking because his mouth is too busy, too full of you.

He loses track of time down there. Minutes blur into hours. His jaw aches, his tongue cramps, but he doesn't stop. Can't stop. Every time you try to shift away, oversensitive and trembling, he tightens his grip on your hips and pulls you back. His nose presses into your pubic bone, his lips sealed around your clit, sucking gently at first, then harder, then letting go only to dive back in.

When you're in bed, he crawls under the covers without a word. You feel his hot breath against your inner thigh before his mouth finds you, half-asleep and warm. He nuzzles into your cunt like a man seeking comfort, lapping lazily at your folds until you're wet and sighing in your sleep. He falls asleep that way sometimes his cheek pressed against your thigh, lips brushing your clit, breathing you in. He wakes up hard, aching, and immediately starts all over again, licking you awake.

During the day, it's worse.

He'll pull you into the studio under the pretense of needing your opinion on a new track. The door clicks shut, the blinds close, and suddenly he's on his knees again. He shoves a pillow under him not for his comfort, but to get the angle right. His chin tilts up, his tongue out, waiting. Begging with his eyes.

"Just a taste," he whispers. "I'm stuck. I can't write. I can't think. I need—" He presses his forehead to your thigh, breathing hard. "I need your pussy, baby. She's my muse. She's the only thing that makes the words come."

And you let him. Because it's true. The moment his mouth finds you, the tension in his shoulders melts. His hands roam your ass, squeeze, spread, pull you closer. His tongue works you until you're gasping, your fingers tangled in his hair, your hips grinding against his face. He moans with every flick, every suck, every time your cunt clenches around nothing because his tongue is right there, pressing into your entrance, tasting your cream.

He comes in his pants without realizing it.

The first time it happens, he's so focused on your pleasure that he doesn't notice his own cock throbbing, pulsing, spilling into his jeans. The wet patch spreads warm against his thigh, and he only becomes aware of it when you're done, panting and limp, and he pulls back with a glistening chin. He looks down at himself, blinks, and then grins, sheepish, embarrassed, but also proud.

"Sorry," he mutters, but he's not sorry at all.

It becomes a pattern. Two pairs of jeans a week. Sometimes three. He starts buying cheap brands because he knows they'll be ruined. The laundry basket fills with stiff, stained denim, and he never complains. He just shuffles to the drawer, pulls out another pair, and gets back on his knees.

You have to push him away.

It's the only way it stops. When your clit is raw and swollen and every flick of his tongue makes you flinch, you press your palm against his forehead and shove. He resists at first, whining against your skin, trying to chase your taste as you pull back. "No," you say, breathless. "Michael. Stop."

And he does. But only because you said so. Only because your voice has that edge of finality that he can't ignore.

He sits back on his heels, chin wet, lips red and puffy, eyes glazed. His breathing is ragged, and there's a smear of your arousal across his cheek. He licks his lips slowly, savoring the last traces.

"Sorry," he says again, but his voice is thick. He's not sorry. He's already thinking about the next time, counting the hours until he can taste you again.

He crawls up the bed and curls against you, pressing his face into your neck. His hand is still wet, still slick with your juices, and he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean one by one. His eyes close. He's content. Sated. But only for now.

Because tomorrow morning, before the sun rises, he'll be between your thighs again. His tongue will find your clit before you're fully awake. His mouth will seal over you, and he'll hum in satisfaction, drinking you down like a man dying of thirst.

And he'll whisper, half to himself, half to you: "Not my fault you taste so sweet."

He says it like a prayer. Like a confession. Like the truest thing he's ever known.

(a/n: andddddd yet another old note turned into a mini fic posted, been thinking about how michael has the most insane case of ‘coochie pls🥺’ eyes I’ve ever seen for a long while)

[mikeysbadgyal]

— Michael’s girl ౨ৎ

pairing - michael jackson x black fem!reader

rating - explicit (18+)

word count - around 3.4k

summary - after a producer flirts with you, michael can’t help but want to claim what’s his.

warnings - smut, profanity, michael is all possessive and jealous oral (reader receiving), p in v, pet names, praise kink, reader is kinda oblivious to someone else’s flirting towards her. dom!michael, sub!reader exhibitionism/voyeurism themes, hair pulling, backshots, missionary, aftercare mentioned + a little choking, overstim and fingering.

A/n : i got inspired by @michaelsfavgirl fic called word to the jealouss and decided to write this 😋

As you and Michael walked in, you smoothed your dress the black silk clinging to your frame, simple but elegant, the kind of fabric that hugged without trying too hard his arm stayed around your waist as you two walked in together.

His new album had done exactly what everyone expected it had been a massive success, breaking records. So his team threw a party to celebrate its success.

౨ৎ

The first hour passed in a blur of introductions and polite smiles. Michael kept his hand on your lower back the entire time, the kind of touch that said she’s with me.

“You okay?” you asked, turning your head to face him.

He was watching something over your shoulder, his jaw moving slightly, a muscle ticking under his skin.

“Michael?”

His eyes snapped back to you, and the tension in his face softened. “Yeah, baby. I’m fine.” He said, kissing your forehead. “You need another drink?”

“I’m good,” you said, shaking your head slightly.

He nodded, but his hand stayed where it was against your spine.

౨ৎ

“You’re Michael’s girl, right?” a producer said, sliding in beside you while Michael was pulled into a conversation with Quincy near the piano. “I’ve seen you at his recording sessions.”

You gave a polite smile. “Yes.”

“I can tell,” he said his eyes dropping to your mouth, lingering there a bit too long.

You let out a small, nervous laugh in response.

For the rest of the night, he kept finding reasons to stay near you.

He brought you a fresh drink when yours was half-empty, leaning in close to explain the background of another producer you didn’t really care about he yapped away letting his hand brush your waist when he gestured toward the bar.

You didn't think much of it. You were friendly by nature always had been and the champagne had made you warm and loose tongued. You laughed at his jokes. You nodded along when he talked about the label's upcoming projects.

Across the room, though, Michael went quiet as he watched you both laughing together, trying to figure out why he felt so damn comfortable with his girlfriend.

౨ৎ

Michael was laughing with Quincy, nodding at something a dancer said, accepting a congratulations with a soft smile but his eyes kept drifting towards you everytime time you turned back to check on him, he was already looking at you.

Over the next few minutes, Michael made his way back towards you.

He excused himself from a conversation mid-sentence, irritated he was so tired of seeing you laughing with another man. When he reached you, his hand slid around your waist, gripping you possessively as his eyes flicked to the man beside you.

“Hey, baby.”

He kissed you on the lips before you could even respond, right there in front of him.

"Hey." You smiled up at him, tipsy and happy. "Quincy done with you?"

"For now." He pulled you close enough to press your hip against his. "You having fun?"

“I am.” You smiled, motioning to the man beside you. “He was just telling me about-“

“I know.” His words came out as if he was annoyed…because he was. “Come sit with me.”

He didn't wait for an answer. As he guided you toward the far end of the lounge, where a curved love seat sat half-hidden behind a marble pillar. He sat first, then pulled you down onto his lap.

In front of everyone.

You laughed softly, surprised. “Mikey, people are watching.”

“Let them.” His hand settled on your thigh, thumb tracing slow circles against the silk of your dress. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “You were too far away over there.”

“I was right across the room.”

“Too far, sweet thing,” he mumbled, his eyes scanning the room for the producer who had been too damn close to you.

౨ৎ

He somehow made his way back over to you again ten minutes later. When Michael stepped off to chat with a choreographer, you now stood near the windows.

“Another one?” he said, appearing beside you with two glasses in his hand. He offered one to you with a wink.

“I’m cut off,” you said, smiling. “Michael’s been watching my intake he doesn’t want me to get too tipsy.”

“Smart man.” He kept the glass out, though, waiting. “One more won’t hurt. I’ll take the blame.”

You hesitated, then laughed and took it. “You’re trouble.”

“That’s what they tell me.” He leaned in slightly. “You know, I’ve been trying to figure you out all night.”

“Oh.”

He looked at you, his gaze warm, a little too intimate for a man you’d met hours ago. “How does a pretty girl like you end up with someone like him?”

His question caught you off guard, a hint of offense slipping into your voice. “What do you mean, someone like him?”

“I mean.” He shrugged. ‘He’s Michael Jackson. He’s not exactly available to the world, I guess. I just wonder how you fit.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but a hand closed around your wrist before you could speak.

“She’s done with this conversation,” Michael said, pulling you away.

“Michael-“

“Now,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

His fingers tightened around your wrist but not enough to hurt. “Excuse us.”

౨ৎ

You and Michael had ended up leaving early.

He was walking fast, his hand still wrapped around your wrist, until he reached a door marked Private Suite.

Michael let go of your wrist as the two of you walked into the room. He stood with his back to you, shoulders tight, hands sliding into his pockets as he took a deep breath.

“ What was that with him?”

His voice was terrifyingly calm. You knew he was mad.

You closed the door behind you, frowning.

“What?” you added. “He was asking me a question.”

"You know what."

"I don't."

He stared at you, then laughed a short, breathless sound that didn’t match the tension in his body.

“You don’t even realize,” he said, shaking his head as he paced toward the window.

“Baby.”

“You let him touch you,” he said, stopping and turning back to face you. “You let him stand that close. You laughed at his jokes, you took his drink.”

“I was being polite.”

“You were being friendly,” his voice dropped, softer now and somehow that was worse. “Too friendly.”

“I’m friendly with everyone, babe.”

"That's the problem."

“Mikey…” you said, stepping toward him. “I don’t even remember his name. He was just some producer. I didn’t-I wasn’t trying to-“

"I know."

"That's what makes it worse. You don't even know what you do to me."

“Every time another man looks at you, I lose my patience,” he said.

“Every time you laugh at someone else’s joke, every time someone touches you, I have to stand there and act like it doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re mine. I can’t help it.”

You reached up and touched his cheek. He leaned into your palm, needing the contact more than he’d admit.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“You’re okay, mama. It was him he wants what’s mine.” He said pressing a kiss to your palm.

“ Michael. I don’t give a fuck about that producer.”

His hand tightened at your waist as he pulled you in and kissed you slow at first, then deeper. His hands moved to your face, cradling you with both hands, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones as he kissed you, his tongue in your mouth and everything.

This was the kind of kiss that made your knees weak.

“Mm mikey…” you breathed against his mouth.

“Fuck, I love kissing you,” he said, backing you toward the bed until your thighs hit the edge.

“My girl,” he murmured, kissing your jaw, then your throat. “Wanna hear you say it.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were all wild.

“You’re mine aren’t you?”

“ Yes i'm yours,” you whispered.

“And who do you belong to?” he asked as his hand slid up your neck, his fingers squeezing.

“You.”

“I belong to you, Michael im all yours forever.”

When you said that its like the tension in his shoulders released, and he exhaled like he'd been holding his breath all night.

“That's what i wanted to hear princess.”

౨ৎ

The air left your lungs in a soft gasp as your back suddenly hit the duvet, his body following yours. His hands were already moving pushing the silk straps off your shoulders, dragging the black fabric down until your breasts spilled free.

He didn't stop to admire them. Not yet. His mouth was already lower, pressing hot, open kisses down your sternum, your ribs and your belly.

He took his time you were something truly precious in his hands.

His hands followed the curve of your hips, your thighs.

“Don't wear that dress again.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll remind me of him.” He said biting the skin just above your navel, not hard enough to break, but enough to leave a mark.

"And i won't be nice about it next time." He said hooking his fingers into your panties pulling them down your legs. Tossing them somewhere behind him without looking.

Then he pushed your thighs apart.

“You’re so gorgeous.”

You moaned softly at his words, threading your fingers through his hair.

He pressed kisses to the inside of your thigh, then another a little higher, before shifting to the other side. He took his time, working his way upward his lips tracing over every inch of your skin avoiding where you wanted him most.

“Michael...”

“Be patient.”

“No, Michael, please.”

“I want it now.”

He smiled against your skin a slow, wicked smile. “That's not how this works. You spent all night giving another man your attention. Now you're gonna give me every sound you got.”

“I wanna hear every sound.” He said and then his mouth was on you.

His tongue pressed flat against your cunt dragging from your entrance up to your clit in one long stroke. You cried out, your back arching off the bed, but he didn't let up. He did it again. And again.

Each pass slower than the last, his tongue pressing harder, until you were gripping the sheets, gasping his name without thinking who might hear.

“Taste so fucking good,” he murmured against you, the vibration making your hips jerk.

“Been starving all night thinking about this pussy.”

He sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked with full force, causing you to see white in your vision. His tongue flicked rapidly against the sensitive nub, while his fingers found your entrance and slid one, then two inside you without warning.

“Shit baby,” you breathed.

“You feel that?” His voice was like silk against your skin.

“That's me inside you. Nobody else is ever gonna be inside you.”

“Nobody else-fuck-nobody else, Michael-“

“That’s my girl.” He said as he held you down with one hand on your stomach.

He didn’t slow down, though. He fucked you with his fingers while his mouth worked your clit relentlessly and possessively, as if he was trying to crawl inside you through your pleasure.

Every time you got close to coming, he pulled back just enough to keep you teetering on the edge, and then he dove back in harder.

“You gonna come for me sweetheart?”

“Yes-yes-“

“This pussy is entirely yours, Mikey.”

“Good girl.”

"Come for me." His voice was muffled, rough. "I wanna feel you come on my tongue."

He pressed his tongue against your clit, flattening it as he rapidly circled it.

Simultaneously, his fingers fucked you deeper and rougher.

He groaned against you, savoring the sensation, and the sound of his groans, mixed with the vibrations, pushed you over the edge.

Your back arched off the bed as you cried out his name, and he drank every second of it as if he were dying of thirst.

Your thighs clamped around his head, your body shaking through wave after wave. He didn't stop he kept licking, kept sucking, kept drinking every drop of your release like he was claiming it, marking it as his.

When you finally stopped trembling, he pulled back just enough to look up at you. His face was wet, his lips swollen his eyes burning with satisfaction.

"You even taste like you're mine," he said.

He lowered his head again, spreading you open with his thumbs as he buried his face between your trembling thighs, his tongue plunging inside you once more.

The second orgasm hit you harder and faster. As you screamed his name, he pinned your hips down and continued licking until you were crying begging him to stop.

Only then did he pull away.

He crawled up your body afterward, kissing you and letting you taste yourself on his lips. He was still fully dressed, his shirt damp from your release.

“Better?” you managed, still gasping for breath.

“Not yet,” he replied, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’m not done.”

He rose from the bed and sat up long enough to remove his shirt, pants, and boxers. You watched him in the dim light the lean lines of his body, the smooth skin, and the way his dick stood firm against his stomach.

He settled over you the tip of his cock nudged against your entrance, “Feel it baby?” He said pushing just barely inside just enough to make you gasp.

“All this is just for you.”

The stretch was perfect as he slowly moved in, inch by inch, until he was fully seated. You could feel him everywhere. He lingered there for a moment, allowing you to adjust. His forehead pressing against yours.

“Uh uh, look me in the eyes while I fuck you,” he whispered as he began to move. You tried to maintain eye contact, but your eyes were about to roll back.

He slowly fucked you, with deep, rolling thrusts that hit that spot inside you.

His rhythm was hypnotic as fuck, his breath hot against your neck, as his hands gripped your hips.

He pulled out slow so slow you felt every ridge, every inch then he slammed back in hard enough to knock the air from your lungs.

“Fuck-“

"Yeah. That's it.”

“Whose girl are you?” he asked.

“I’m Michael’s girl,” you moaned.

“Yes, you are, baby,” he said, picking up the pace. He drove into you harder and faster the sound of your bodies meeting filled the room.

He set a punishing pace. Hard, deep strokes that drove you further into the mattress with every thrust. The room was filled with the wet sound of him fucking you, your breathless moans, his guttural grunts.

“You like this hm sweet girl?” He said, rubbing tight circles on your clit in time with his thrusts. “You like being fucked like this, huh?”

You just kept mumbling incoherent words as he fucked you stupid.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me,” he gripped your chin, forcing your gaze to his. “I want you to see who’s fucking you. I want you to remember.”

“I won’t forget,” you said.

“Good,” he kissed you, sloppily and hungry.

“Because I’m not gonna let you.”

He flipped you onto your stomach without warning, pulled your hips up, and entered you from behind. The new angle made you gasp, made you claw at the sheets.

“All mine.”

“Tell me,” he thrust deeper, harder. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” your voice broke on a moan. “I understand, I understand-“

“That’s right.”

He moaned as you tightened your pussy around him. He drove deeper and faster losing control. You were close, and he could feel it building.

And then

A knock at the door.

Three knocks.

"Shit." You tensed.

"Don't you stop." His hand clamped down on your hips, holding you in place. "Keep throwing that perfect ass back on me.”

He stopped moving for half a second, his head lifting. His eyes cut toward the door.

“Michael?” You were breathless and trembling. “Who is that?“

"Shh." He resumed moving, slower now, but no less deep. His hand pressed flat against your lower back, holding you steady. "You feel so good around me i don’t wanna stop."

The knock came again, louder this time. A familiar voice, slurred with alcohol, followed it.

“Hey, hello? Is this the wrong room? Is anyone in here?” He asked.

"Oh my gosh, that's-"

"I know who it is."

It was the producer who had flirted with you.

He didn't stop.

The door wasn’t locked either. You realized that when he started fumbling with the doorknob. He pushed the door open and stumbled inside. Michael didn’t care as he continued to pound you into the bed.

"I was told suite 4-"

He stopped in his tracks suddenly sobered up.

The room was dimly lit by only two lights, but that was enough for him to see the two of you on the bed. The light revealed Michael’s silhouette moving against yours, your body arching beneath him.

The wet sounds of sex filled the silence.

He froze. His mouth opened. Closed.

You turned your head the other way in fear, scared that he’d realize it was you two. But Michael didn’t stop; he wanted him to see that he’d never have you.

His eyes locked onto his as he wrapped his large hand around your neck tilting your head back.

“Don't hide,” he murmured, loud enough for him to hear. “Let him see.”

“Oh fuck im-“ You were shaking, humiliated and aroused in equal measure. “Please.”

“Please, what?” He pressed further, and you couldn’t help but moan, despite feeling embarrassed. “Please stop, or please don’t?” he teased.

“Keep going,” you moaned, completely ignoring his presence at the door. You didn’t care as long as he kept fucking you.

He stood frozen in shock, watching him move his hand from your neck to your hair, using it to pull you back as your ass rippled against him.

His gaze fell to Michael’s cock as it disappeared into you. It was wet and glistening, with a white ring forming at the base.

He smiled and asked, “See something you like?”

“She’s all mine you’ll never have her.” Michael said, his eyes never leaving the man.

“You understand me?”

The producer swallowed and nodded.

“Then get the fuck out.”

The door slammed shut.

Michael didn't slow down. He leaned forward, his chest pressed against your back.

“He saw us. He saw me fucking you. He really knows you’re mine now.”

His pace quickened. His breathing grew ragged, his control slipping. He buried his face in your neck and continued fucking you like he was trying to brand himself onto your bones.

“I’m so close.” You said.

“Come on, baby, come for me then,” he urged. “Come on, your dick.”

You came apart, a shattered cry tearing from your throat. Your body clenched around him, and he followed a second later, his body shuddering against yours as his groan was muffled against your skin.

“Fuck-“ He buried himself deep, his hips flush against your ass. You felt him pulse inside you, all hot and thick, a claim that went beyond words.

He stilled inside you, gasping for breath, his forehead pressed against the back of your head.

Afterward, he collapsed beside you.

“Now, your pussy is marked too.”

You nodded, you were exhausted.

The room was silent except for the sound of your breathing.

“Michael?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t believe he saw us!”

A soft laugh escaped him. “Honestly, I’m glad he saw us. That’ll teach him about flirting with my woman.”

“Are you okay though?” he asked quietly.

“I feel good, and also thoroughly fucked.”

“That’s what I wanted,” he said as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you kissing your forehead.

౨ৎ

The aftercare was gentle and thoughtful. He brought you water, a warm washcloth, and even kissed the marks he’d left on your hips, apologizing softly.

“I got all carried away,” he said, tracing patterns on your skin.

“I like it when you get carried away.”

“Don't encourage me.”

You laughed, soft and sleepy. “Too late.”

He smiled and pulled you closer.

You'd let him claim you a thousand times over.

[mikeysbadgyal]

caught

pairing - otw!michael x black fem!reader

rating - explicit (18+)

word count - around 1.9k

summary - michael catches you masturbating and he just can’t look away.

warnings — masturbation, voyeurism, oral (reader receiving), p in v, sub!michael (he begs + crawls), top!reader, facial (he nuts on your face), michael is inexperienced but also kinda isn’t, praise, desperation, again..lots of begging, multiple thank you’s and please’s + a little choking & finger sucking.

A/n : this was requested but i also wanna dedicate this to @enzo6ekiii 🫶🏿 happy birthday!!! I had so much fun writing subby mike i need him so bad.

You were laid out, your legs parted, head thrown back against a pillow, eyes half-closed as you worked yourself closer to the edge.

Your fingers moved slowly, circling your swollen clit. Too lost in your own pleasure, you didn’t hear the footsteps on the carpet.

Michael had been walking through the hallway, his mind still spinning from the session earlier.

He’d almost passed your door when he caught it low moans and soft, wet sounds that stopped him in his tracks.

The crack in the door was barely two inches wide, but it was enough. He leaned closer before he could stop himself, peering through the gap. The sight on the other side had his dick throbbing instantly.

His breath caught in his throat. You were on your back, your shirt had ridden up, exposing the curve of your stomach.

Your panties were pushed to one side, revealing the slick folds of your pussy. Your fingers glistened as they worked, two of them sliding through your wetness, spreading it over your clit.

The sight of your pretty pussy, all swollen, the little nub peeking out, wet and shiny, made his mouth fill with saliva.

He could see the way your hips rolled, the way your hole clenched around nothing, the way a clear string stretched between your fingers and your slit.

He quickly pulled himself out, thick, aching, pre-cum already beading at the tip as he began to stroke, matching your rhythm. He bit his lip to silence the groan that wanted to tear out of him; you looked so good like that.

His eyes stayed locked on your pussy the way your fingers disappeared inside you. He loved the way your thighs trembled.

You circled your clit with your thumb while your other hand pressed deeper, two fingers, then three, stretching yourself open. Your head was thrown back, your mouth open, your breath coming in little gasps.

His own strokes grew rougher as he pumped himself fast, his palm slick. He was so turned on that he leaked clear, sticky beads that dripped to the carpet.

He pictured his mouth on your pussy, your legs over his shoulders, grinding against his face as he licked and sucked.

His hips twitched forward too far, bumping the door, causing it to creak open.

You froze, staring at the door. Realizing who it was, you pulled the sheets up to your chin. “Michael?”

His curls were a halo around his face, damp at the temples.

His jeans were unbuttoned, his dick jutting out from the fly, his fist wrapped around his shiny shaft. He had been stroking himself while he watched you.

“I’m sorry…”

“Please don’t make me go. I need to touch you. Please.”

He wanted to back away, but his feet seemed glued to the floor. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing, his hand remaining wrapped around his length.

“You were watching me,” you said, your voice low. “You were listening.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered. “I heard a sound. I thought you might’ve been… then I saw you and I couldn't stop. I'm sorry.”

You didn’t tell him to get out. You didn’t say anything. You just pulled the sheets down, moving your hand back down to your pussy, the wetness coating your fingers again. You spread your legs a little wider, a silent invitation.

“Let me come in. Please. I’ll get on my knees. I’ll do whatever you want. Just let me taste you. I’ll be so good.”

“Seeing you with your fingers inside like that, I thought I’d lose my mind. I want to be the one making you drip like that.”

“You think you deserve that?” you asked.

“No,” he said. “I don’t deserve anything. But I’ll earn it. I’ll beg. I’ll do anything. Please. I see how wet you are. I want to feel that around my tongue.”

You crooked a finger. “Come here.”

Michael let out a sound that was half whimper, half groan. He pushed the door open, but he didn’t walk. He knelt, his knees hitting the floor with a thud. He crawled across the carpet and onto your bed, where you were.

“I’m sorry for watching, but I’m not sorry for wanting you. I can’t be sorry for that.“

You reached up and gently grabbed his hair. His eyes rolled up to meet yours, wide and pleading.

“Tell me what you want, Mikey,” you said, brushing a curl from his forehead.

“I want… I want to touch you,” he stammered, his voice dropping lower, rougher. “I’ve thought about it so many times seeing you like this.“

“You can touch me.”

When his fingers finally brushed against your soaked pussy, he moaned, his fingers pressing deeper, sliding through your folds, gathering the slickness. He watched his hand move, fascinated, his brows furrowing in concentration.

“Is that good, Mama?”

“Tell me what to do.”

“Rub my clit,” you murmured, your voice husky. “Right where my fingers were. Move in slow circles.”

He found it immediately, his fingers pressing against the sensitive nub; he began to move in circles.

His touch was clumsy at first, too light, then too firm, but he watched your face for cues, adjusting when you gasped or arched. Learning you with every stroke.

“Yes,” you breathed, “like that, but faster.”

A low moan rumbled from his throat when your hips bucked into his hand.

“Oh my, you’re so wet. You’re so… I can’t think.”

“You don’t need to think,” you said, tangling your fingers in his hair again.

“You need to listen. Do what I say.”

“Yes,” he whispered against your skin. “Anything. Tell me. Please.”

You guided his hand, letting his fingers slip inside you. He gasped at the tightness and the slick grip.

“I want to taste you,” he begged, coming up from between your legs, pulling his fingers out and bringing them to his lips. He licked them clean, his eyes fluttering shut. “Please. Let me taste you.”

You nodded, and he slid back down your body, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your ribs, your belly, until he settled between your thighs again.

His tongue was hesitant at first, a kitten’s lick, testing. You bucked your hips, and he let out a desperate sound as he dove in.

His nose was bumping against your clit, as he lapped at your folds, groaning into you. His large hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he devoured your pussy.

“Yes,” you gasped, grinding against his face. “Yes, just like that. Please don’t stop.”

He ate you like you were the only meal he’d ever need. His tongue circled your clit, flicking, pressing into you as he sucked gently, then harder, using his fingers to spread you open so he could get deeper.

“More,” you gasped.

He obeyed immediately, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking while his fingers pushed inside you, two of them.

You were tight, hot, clenching around him. He groaned against your flesh.

“Am I doing it right?” he asked, pulling back just enough to speak.

“Is this good enough?”

“Yes-fuck, yes-”

“I love hearing you say that. I love knowing I’m the one doing this to you. “Please keep making those sounds.”

He buried his face in you again, licking and sucking and fucking you with his fingers until your thighs began to tremble, until your back arched off the mattress, until you screamed his name coming undone against his mouth.

He sucked up every bit, licking you through your orgasm until you pushed him away, oversensitive.

He came up from between your legs, his chin glistening, his eyes dazed. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for letting me do that.”

“Can I be inside you now?” he asked, his voice barely audible. “Please. I’ll be so gentle. I’ll last as long as you want. Just tell me yes.”

“I want it so bad,” he said. “I think about you all the time. Every night. I touch myself thinking about your mouth, your hands, your…please, I’m begging you. Let me fuck you. I’ll be so good. I’ll do exactly what you say.”

“You will,” you agreed, and you guided him onto his back, tugging his pants further down, then climbing over him, straddling his hips, your pussy brushing against the length of his dick.

He moaned, his hands flying to your waist, but you pinned them above his head.

“No touching and no moving,” you said. “Unless I say so.”

He nodded, his chest heaving. “Yes. Yes, okay. I won’t move.”

You lowered yourself slowly, watching his face contort with pleasure as you sank down onto him, inch by inch. He was so big, filling you completely, and you both moaned when you were fully seated.

“Look at me, Mikey,” you commanded. “I want you to watch me ride your dick.”

His eyes were locked on you, big and wide, his mouth open. You began to move, grinding against him. His breath came in short, desperate gasps; pleas and praises spilled from his lips.

“Oh, my…yes, so tight you feel so good. Please, please.”

You rode him with your hands braced on his chest. “You feel amazing, Michael,” you said. “So good inside me. Such a good boy.”

He whimpered at the praise, his hips bucking up into you despite his promise. You slapped his chest lightly. “I said no moving.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it. You’re too perfect. Please let me move just a little.”

“No. You take what I give you. And you’re going to come when I tell you to. Understood?”

“Yes,” he whined.

He dropped his head to your shoulder, biting back a cry. “Fuck, baby,” “You feel I can’t hold on much more.”

“You can and you will.”

You kept him on the edge, riding him faster, then slower, until he was a mess.

“Please let me come, please. I’ll do anything. I’ll worship you forever, please.”

You slowed your pace, a teasing smile on your lips.

“Not yet. I want to hear you beg a little more.”

“I need it, please. I’ll be good.”

Leaning forward, you brought one hand to his throat, squeezing as your fingers curled against the sides of his neck.

"Quiet," you whispered, your other hand lifting to his mouth. "Open."

His lips parted, and you slid two fingers past them. He hollowed his cheeks as he sucked your fingers, his saliva coating your fingers.

You pressed your palm a little firmer against his throat, not enough to cut off air, but enough to make him feel the pressure to remind him who was in control.

He moaned around your fingers, the vibration traveling up your arm. When his hips bucked, you tightened your grip on his throat in warning.

"That's it," you said. "Suck. Good boy, Mikey."

He kept sucking eagerly, his tongue swirling, his eyes rolling back. You rode him through it, your hips rolling in lazy circles, feeling the way his dick twitched inside you.

The combination of your hand on his throat and your fingers in his mouth had him utterly undone.

He was so vocal it was so sexy; every thrust drew more pleas and whimpers from him.

His hands roamed your hips, your breasts, your thighs, breaking his promise, but he never tried to control the pace. He let you take what you wanted.

You pulled your fingers free with a soft pop, replacing them with your thumb, dragging it across his lower lip.

“You’re riding me so good, ma,” he gasped. “I won’t last much longer, please. Tell me when and tell me how you want it.”

“I want you to come all over my face,” you said, and his eyes went wide as he nodded frantically.

“Yes. Yes. Whatever you want.”

You rode him harder, faster, until you felt him stiffen beneath you. “I’m going to, I’m so close, please.”

You pulled off, rolling onto your back, pulling him with you. He hovered over your face, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping his dick. He was slick with your wetness, throbbing.

“Is this..are you sure?”

“Yes, give it to me. I want it all,” you said, licking your lips and sticking your tongue out.

He cried out as his body tensed, his dick jerking. The first rope of cum hit your lips, warm and thick.

The second landed across your cheek, the third on your chin, the fourth across your nose and eyebrow.

“Thank you,” he gasped. “Thank you, thank you.”

He kept pumping, milking himself, more spurts landing on your tongue, your forehead, your throat.

He collapsed on his knees, his chest heaving, his dick still dripping.

He looked down at you, your face dripping with his release, his cum running down your cheeks, pooling at the corners of your mouth. You wiped your mouth, bringing your hand to your lips, licking a stripe of his cum off your fingers.

As he watched you do that a fresh wave of arousal flowed through him.

“That was the first time… no one has ever… was I okay?”

He rested his forehead against your shoulder, his breath ragged.

You lifted his chin, making him look at you, at the mess he’d made. “You did so fucking good,” you said softly, and he smiled.

“You were more than okay,” you said.

“I’m going to go grab a rag from the bathroom.”

“Okay,” you whispered back.

A few minutes later, he came back with a warm rag in his hand.

He pulled you closer as he carefully wiped his release from your face.

When he was done, he curled up against you, his hand splayed across your stomach, his lips pressed to your shoulder, still whispering lots of thanks to you.

♥︎

A/n : i lowkey got lazy at the end sorry guys 😭😭 <333

[hisgoodfish]

thank you my work for giving me coworkers who also love michael jackson THANK YOU

[invinor]

this era makes me wanna claw my nails on him BRO this genuinely was a fucking timeeeee

[hisgoodfish]

the concept of muchael jackson calling some kid w cancer a doodoo head 😭😭

[luvingkiku]

okay but imagine dancing with !m.jackson at studio 54. sweaty bodies are everywhere, and the music is blaring unbelievably loud, but you and michael are lost in each other’s eyes and dancing like you are the only two in the room. he keeps on pulling you close and making out with you while dancing, and you giggle and keep on backing away. he pulls you close by your belt loops, looking you up and down while biting his lip, leaning down into your ear and whispering, “i can’t wait to take these off you later baby.”

[sweeterners]

so like we as a society need more studio 54 fics

[lil6uapa]

loose ends jaafar jackson

jaafar jackson x f!reader ────୨ৎ──── ♡ wc: 6.1k

synopsis: overstimming jaafar (& tying him up)

cw: smut, oral (m!receiving), bondage, overstimulation, dry humping, praise, teasing, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, needy!jaafar, slight switch!jaafar

ik i said i'd shorten it but this is the most i could do

requested by anon !!

the second the hotel room door clicked shut behind you, the entire night seemed to catch up to him at once.

jaafar let out a long breath, one hand reaching for the collar of his dress shirt while the other stayed planted on your waist.

the city lights outside spilled through the massive windows in blurred streaks of gold and white, reflecting softly against the marble countertops and dark furniture of the suite.

somewhere below, traffic moved in distant waves, muffled this high up. the air conditioning hummed quietly overhead, cool against your skin after hours spent in crowded rooms, camera flashes, and too many people.

but the room itself felt warm.

maybe because of him.

his suit jacket hung loose off one shoulder now, the fabric wrinkled from the car ride back and from your hands. his tie hung loose around his neck, completely undone, and the first few buttons of his shirt had come open at some point between the elevator and the room.

he looked too good.

you kicked your heels off near the door with a dull clack against the floor before looking back at him.

jaafar was already staring.

leaning against the edge of the dresser with one hand braced behind him, shirt slightly untucked, while his eyes followed you through the room with absolutely no shame.

his gaze dragged over you slowly as you crossed the room toward him, the silk fabric of your dress shifting softly against your skin with every step, catching the warm amber light spilling from the lamps beside the bed.

“stop looking at me like that,” you murmured.

a lazy grin pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“give me a reason to look anywhere else.”

you rolled your eyes, but the distance between you closed instantly as his hands slid around your waist, pulling you in. his palm felt warm through the thin fabric of your dress.

“see?” he whispered, his eyes dipping to your lips. “you can’t.”

your pulse quickened. it always did when he looked at you like this. 

the expensive black dress shirt stretched across his chest as he leaned back against the dresser, sleeves rolled carelessly to his forearms.

his eyes looked darker than usual, heavy-lidded and intensely focused on you.

“you’re quiet,” he murmured after a moment.

your fingers drifted to the satin hanging around his collar, smoothing it between your fingers.

“so are you.”

a quiet breath left him through his nose before his eyes flicked back to your face. 

“that’s because i’m trying very hard to behave.”

fighting a smile, you tilted your head slightly. “behave from what?”

amusement flickered across his face. “you know exactly what,” his voice had gone rough enough to send heat crawling down your spine. 

you pretended to think for a second before narrowing your eyes at him dramatically.

“no,” you said thoughtfully. “i don’t think i do.”

jaafar just looked at you for a second, already fully aware you were messing with him.

you only smiled innocently back. 

then his hands tightened around your waist before he pulled your hips flush against his.

and you felt it.

to say he was turned on would have been putting it lightly. you could feel the firm, demanding heat of him burning through his slacks.

“still confused?” he murmured.

your fingers stilled against the satin hanging loose around his neck. you didn’t answer right away. instead, you gave the ends of the fabric a slow, deliberate tug, bringing his face just inches from yours while a small, knowing smirk played on your lips.

jaafar studied your face for a second, his own grin fading into a look of cautious amusement.

“i know that look. you’re up to something.”

“maybe i am,” you hummed, flashing him an innocent smile before sliding your hand down to take his.

jaafar let you pull him away from the dresser with little resistance, following you over to the bed. he settled back against the headboard, one arm draped loosely over the pillows behind him as he watched you climb into his lap.

your dress rode higher against your thighs, the silk bunching slightly as your knees settled on either side of him. his hands found your hips again without hesitation.

you leaned in first, kissing him softly. both of your eyes fluttered shut almost immediately. the kiss stayed lazy at first – slow and unhurried. your lips moved against his, tongues brushing while jaafar kissed you back with a quiet eagerness that made warmth curl in your stomach.

you felt his fingers push into the supple skin of your waist as you kissed him harder, your hands sliding up his chest to grip at the collar of his shirt. it was intimate, wet, and slow like you were trying to coax each other to open up. 

a quiet sound slipped from him at the feeling – soft and breathy. 

your stomach tightened at that.

you loved watching his composure slip piece by piece whenever you touched him like this.

his hands drifted lower after, settling against the tops of your thighs while you shifted against him. the movement made your dress ride up further, until the only thing separating you and jaafar was his pants and your underwear. with one fluid motion, you shifted forward just enough that your center pressed flush against him.

his breath caught in his throat, fingers tightening at your waist. his hips pushed up without permission, grinding against you once – slow and filthy until the friction stole your own breath away.

jaafar caught your bottom lip with his teeth, nipping and tugging slightly, coaxing a breathy gasp from you. your hands slid down his chest just enough to gather the fabric of his shirt, gripping the collar tightly as your hips rose involuntarily into his grasp. his grip on your waist grew tighter, falling lower to hold the tops of your thighs. he pulled you even closer to him until you sat back completely on him, your weight resting against his hips.

you could feel him, hard and heavy, pressing directly into you.

you guided your kisses lower, mouth brushing the edge of his jaw.

his head tipped back slightly on instinct, exposing the long stretch of his throat to you like a silent invitation. and you accepted it. 

you pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the sharp edge of his jaw, then another. his skin was hot. the second your lips met his skin, a low groan slipped from his throat. 

your lips dragged along his jaw, your tongue flicking out to taste the warmth of his skin, the faint smell of his cologne clinging to his neck. he was so warm beneath you, his muscles tense, holding his breath like he was waiting to see if you'd stop. 

you wouldn't, of course 

you trailed lower, your mouth lingering on the smooth line of his throat. you pressed your lips wider against the sensitive skin just below his ear, sucking lightly just to feel him shudder beneath you.

you trailed the kisses lower, on his neck, down to his chest.

he rocked up again, a little more firmly this time. he was grinding you down now, hands tight on your waist, dragging you over the length of him like he needs the friction or he's going to lose it. 

you bit your lip.

he was so hard already, it was ridiculous, and you were soaked. the damp material of your panties clung to your slit like a second skin, and with every slow grind, your clit caught just right on the thick ridge of him.

you felt dizzy.

drunk on the sensation.

your breath got stuck somewhere high in your chest, and all you can do was move with him – rolling your hips, letting him pull you back and forth over him.

“you feel…” jaafar groaned again, his eyes fluttering shut. his head dropped back onto the pillows as another roll of his hips met yours. “...god, you feel so good like this.”

your fingers gripped his collar. you were panting now, lips parted, flushed all the way to your chest.

your clit was throbbing, your thighs trembling.

all you were doing was rocking against him, barely more than dry humping, but even then, the friction was already too much.

you leaned in again, brushing you lips beneath his ear, and jaafar shuddered beneath you. his grip on your waist grew bruisingly firm, like he’s doing everything in his power to ground himself.

“feel that?” he mutters low against your shoulder, his breath ragged. “that’s what you do to me.”

you swallowed hard, head spinning. you couldn’t even bring yourself to answer.

you just leaned in again, kissing down the length of his throat while he kept rocking you, grinding you down like he’s trying to get you both off without taking a single layer of clothes off.

you couldn’t stop.

but you couldn’t let him keep setting the pace.

still catching your breath, you slid your palms down his arms, over the sleeves stretched across his biceps and along his exposed forearms, your fingertips skimming the faint veins beneath his skin.

he watched you with lips parted, chest heaving, his brows pulling together when you finally reached down and took him firmly by the wrists.

“what are you doing?” he murmured, his voice thick and rough.

you only leaned in to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back.

your fingers found the satin tie hanging loose around his neck. the fabric felt cool and smooth against his skin as you wrapped it carefully around his wrists once… then twice.

jaafar looked down at his captured wrists, his mind finally putting two and two together. you could see the exact moment the haze vanished from his mind. when he looked back up, a hunger flared in his eyes, his gaze darkening completely as his chest began to rise and fall in a much slower, deeper rhythm.

“baby,” the word came out half-laugh, half-disbelief.

you tilted your head innocently. “what?”

“you can’t be serious,” he breathed.

your fingers slid along his wrists gently before guiding his arm backward toward the headboard. the hotel sheets rustled underneath him as he leaned back slightly to let you move him where you wanted. his eyes never left your face once.

the room felt quieter than before.

smaller somehow and more intimate.

you looped the tie around the bedframe carefully before tightening the knot just enough to hold.

you felt him again– how hard he was underneath you. how close he was to snapping. jaafar flexed his wrist experimentally against the satin before letting out a soft, disbelieving laugh under his breath. he was so hard, his cock twitching under you.

“oh my god,” he muttered.

you only smiled.

“you’re scary.”

but his voice came out quieter now, warmer. because, despite the words, he was looking at you like he wanted you to keep going.

you leaned forward, resting your palms flat against his chest and letting your full weight settle into his lap. the sudden, close heat of your body made him let out a low, rough grunt.

his jaw clenched so tight a small muscle ticked in his cheek, his eyes half-lidded as they locked onto yours. 

“you’re driving me insane, baby,” he rasped, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly tone that sent a shiver straight down your spine.

“i’m just taking my time,” you hummed, sliding your hands slowly down the front of his shirt. 

you popped the remaining buttons open one by one, your fingertips brushing over the warm, smooth skin of his chest. every time your nails lightly scraped over his skin, his breath hitched, his chest rising in sharp, shallow swells beneath your palms. 

leaning down, you let your breath brush against his lips, but you didn't kiss him right away. you hovered there, teasing him, until jaafar groaned and lifted his head off the pillows to try and close the distance himself. he couldn't quite reach, straining forward with a quiet huff of frustration. 

a triumphant little smile pulled at your mouth. you rewarded him then, capturing his lips in a kiss that was no longer lazy.

it was deep and demanding.

jaafar poured all his energy into the movement of his mouth, his tongue tangling with yours with a desperate eagerness. he was completely matching your rhythm now, his chest heaving under your hands as you broke the kiss to trail your mouth down his chin.

you shifted on top of him, straddling his thighs, the soft press of your inner thighs brushing his trousers as you steadied yourself. all you could feel was him straining under you, bound above, eyes glassy with need. 

he tried to jerk upward again, wrists flexing hard against the satin tie. it tightened with the tension, tugging against the frame, but it held.

and the way he groaned when he realized he couldn't move – when it finally sank that he couldn’t reach for you, couldn’t pull you closer, couldn’t take the lead the way he usually did.

it sent a shiver straight through you,

a pulse.

a throb.

a wicked ache that bloomed between your legs and crawled up your spine.

he was completely at your mercy.

your hands slid slowly up his chest again, spreading the panels of his dress shirt wider.

it was rumpled at his sides now, bunched in messy folds under your knees, completely open from the collar down to his waist.

you let out a soft, breathless laugh, looking down at the result.

jaafar couldn’t have cared less about the state of his clothes.

he was only looking at you.

“you’re terrible,” he groaned.

he had a smile, tugging at the corner of his mouth. teeth caught on his bottom lip.

but the second your mouth returned to his chest, his smile disappeared.

he was burning hot under your lips, his chest smooth and firm. you kissed down his sternum, open-mouthed, dragging your tongue along the hard dip between his muscles, feeling every shudder of his body as he struggled to stay still for you.

his stomach jerked, contracting sharply when you nipped the sensitive skin just above his navel.

your hands followed, nails grazing lightly down his sides.

“my god,” he breathed, his head slamming back against the pillow. “you’re–”

you glanced up again.

he was panting now, his pupils swallowing nearly all of the dark warmth in his eyes. his lips were parted, swollen, and you watched the muscle in his jaw lock as he tried to keep himself completely still because he knew you wanted him to.

and then you popped the metal clasp of his trousers.

his body tensed. a full-body shudder ripping through him, his hips fighting not to thrust straight into your hands.

you caught your bottom lip between your teeth and tugged the zipper down just enough, the smooth, metallic glide sending another wave of liquid heat rolling through your core. you hooked your fingers over the waistband of his dark briefs and pulled his dick out into the open air.

oh fuck.

he was thick, swollen, and visibily twitching against his abdomen. 

at the tip, a bead of pre-cum had already bloomed, glistening against the flushed skin.

you swore you saw it pulse.

your mouth went completely dry.

there was something so intensely obscene about the sight of him like this – the way he was already leaking for you, the head straining for attention.

begging to be touched.

begging for your hands, your mouth, anything.

you settled your weight right back onto his thighs.

your own panties clung to you, soaked completely through, clinging tight between your lips from how wet you were.

but instead of pulling back, you ground down.

slowly.

your soaked panties met the leaking head of his cock, and the contact was electric.

it hit your clit just right, rubbing against the stiff, burning ridge beneath you, and you both moaned at the same time.

jaafar bucked upward on instinct, tugging on the satin tie. the restraint held firm, keeping his arms anchored and trapping him under your weight.

“oh my god– ,” he gasped, his voice breaking halfway through.

his eyes snapped open, locked onto yours, completely undone but still trying to hold your gaze. “what are you– shit, baby, please–”

“shhh,” you whispered, leaning forward to press another kiss to the corner of his mouth.

his lips chased yours with a desperate eagerness, but you were already pulling away. 

you rolled your hips again.

slower, deeper, dragging your soaked heat across the full length of his cock like it was nothing.

“god– you’re gonna– ” his voice dissolved into a strained rasp.

his wrists pulled back hard against the satin tie, the muscles across his chest and shoulders flexing as his breath hitched deep in his throat. 

“you’re so hard,” you whispered softly, rocking your hips against him again. “you’re dripping.” 

your panties were grinding directly against his bare skin, slick, warm, and filthy between you. 

the damp silk of your underwear smeared the mess directly over his head, spreading his pre-cum across both of you until everything felt friction-soaked and slippery. 

“don’t say it like that,” he muttered, his jaw clenching as he tried to lift his hips upward to meet you. 

you moaned this time, the sound catching in your throat.

the contact hit your sweet spot too perfectly. your body was starting to throb from the inside out.

your thighs trembled slightly as you moved again, your clit grinding along that burning, swollen ridge.

you leaned down to kiss his jaw, trailing your mouth along his neck. you bit down gently just below his ear as you rolled your hips in another slow, deliberate circle.

when he let out a wrecked groan, you felt the vibration of it low in your belly, twisting everything tight.

you were soaked.

your pussy found the exact shape of him, and you settled there, pressing down slowly, letting your full weight sink into his lap until the thick ridge of his cock was nestled snug against your folds.

it was too much and not enough all at once. 

you stilled for a second. you felt him pulse hard against you.

you felt your own arousal spill, hot and thick, soaking the fabric of your underwear until it grew slippery beneath you. even with the layer separating you, it felt like he was everywhere.

jaafar’s breath stuttered.

you glanced up, and his face was completely undone. his head was tipped back against the pillows, his jaw clenched so tight a sharp muscle ticked in his cheek.

the tension in his upper body was immense, his sleeves bunched around his forearms as his arms remained taut against the bedframe, but he didn't move.

he just took it. 

“shit, baby,” he whispered, his voice raw and gravelly. “you’re so wet… i can feel it. i can feel everything.” 

“yeah?” you breathed, leaning forward until your palms pressed flat against his bare chest. 

his skin was hot under your hands, his heart hammering hard enough that you could feel the rhythmic thud against your fingertips.

you ground again, slower this time, a deep, heavy roll that made your clit throb and your jaw tremble.

it was so messy now.

the squelch of your slick catching every time your pussy slid over his skin. 

all he could do was watch you through half-lidded eyes.

he jerked once, but the satin tie binding his wrists held him firm. 

“please,” he choked out, his eyes squeezing shut as his head turned into the pillow. “please, baby... if you keep doing that, i’m gonna–i can’t–”

you tightened your thighs, dragging yourself forward one last time, letting the tip of his cock press right beneath your clit. you held the pressure there, freezing in place. 

you just felt him pulse.

you wanted him to lose his mind.

you wanted him to break completely. 

but more than that, you wanted to ride that exact edge – watching every stutter of his hips, every ragged breath, while he fought against the restraints and begged for something you weren't ready to give him yet.

jaafar let out a quiet, broken whimper.

it punched straight to your core.

your hips faltered, your rhythm stuttering as a rush of heat flooded through you. you couldn’t help the sharp gasp that slipped out of your lips, your body shuddering as the head of his cock dragged just right over your sweet spot. you were close, too.

embarrassingly close. 

“please,” jaafar begged again, his voice entirely broken this time. “baby, please, let me touch you… i need to… you’re gonna make me cum just like this–”

you sat up straighter, your hips still grinding in slow circles as you braced your hands on his stomach. he was flushed, panting, his wrists twisted uselessly above him. his cock twitched under your gaze, smeared entirely slick from where you had been grinding over him.

his skin flushed a deeper shade, stretched over the hard lines of his chest and abdomen. his abs twitched sharply when your fingers traced lightly down his ribs, catching the deep shiver that ran through his entire frame.

you bent forward again, slower this time.

you pressed your lips back to the heat of his lower stomach, your mouth open, your tongue dragging with slow intent. his cock rested just above your face now, so close that the swollen head brushed your cheek when you shifted your weight. your hands slid up the thick muscle of his thighs, your nails grazing lightly as you went. 

he was panting through gritted teeth. you breathed against the head of his cock, and his entire stomach jerked. he tested the bound satin again, but the tie remained tight.

you met his gaze, your lips curling into a slow, smug smile. 

then, without warning, you finally took him into your mouth.

just the tip.

just enough for your lips to slip warm and wet around the head of his cock, letting it rest heavy on your tongue.

jaafar groaned, sounding like even the lightest touch of your mouth was almost too much for him to take.

you pulled back slightly, letting him fall from your lips with a quiet wet pop.

his hips jerked instinctively, straining upward toward your face

you glanced up, watching the smooth muscles in his forearms tense against the fabric. 

your fingers curled loosely around the base of his shaft, just enough to anchor him, your thumb stroking lightly over the thick ridge on the underside. your mouth hovered over the tip, close enough that your breath fanned out in steady, warm pulses, making the bead of pre-cum glisten even more.

you dragged your tongue along the slit.

slow and delicate.

just a taste.

he let out a choked noise that made your own thighs clench again.

then you did it again — slower this time, the flat of your tongue dragging down the head, tracing along the swollen rim before circling back up to the top.

you watched him twitch beneath you, watched the muscles in his stomach ripple and his chest rise in short, shallow bursts. 

“shit, baby—” he grits out, his voice completely strained, his eyes squeezed shut.

you hummed softly against his skin, your mouth ghosting over the flushed head as if you were savoring it.

you pressed an open-mouthed kiss right to the tip.

then another, and another, working your way around him in slow, teasing circles.

your saliva mixed with his pre-cum, warm and sticky as your lips smeared across the head. you never took more than just the top inch into your mouth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of more.

“you’re killing me,” he groaned, tugging hard against the satin. “please–”

you looked up at him, your eyes bright. “please what?”

he swallowed, his throat working as he tried not to break completely. “please suck me. let me in your mouth.”

you smiled before dragging your tongue hard against the underside of the head, dragging it down with unbearable pressure. 

you gathered saliva in your mouth, lubricating the shaft before wrapping your hand around the base. 

once you were satisfied, your hand started to move, stroking the thick length with a lazy pace. 

his hips twitched, his mouth falling open. “oh my fucking god.”

you took him again, a little deeper this time, lips wrapping snug as you sucked shallowly in soft, rhythmic pulls that made his back arch and his voice crack.

he was panting now, moaning under his breath like the sound was being ripped out of him. 

you held his gaze, unblinking, and went even slower.

you let him slide out of your mouth, saliva stringing from your lips to the tip, before kissing your way back down to the base. every few seconds, you returned to the tip again, like it was the first time, making him work for every bit of attention.

he groaned, hands fisting helplessly against the headboard. finally, you opened your mouth wide and started to take him deeper.

slow.

so fucking slow. 

the stretch made your jaw ache immediately, but you kept going, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach.

his voice was breaking with every sound, and you felt the vibration straight in your core.

he twitched against your tongue, leaking even more as his hips strained up into the heat of your mouth. you hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder, then eased up, dragging your mouth back with a long, slow pull until just the tip rested on your tongue.

his dark eyes found yours, wild and desperate with need.

you smiled sweetly and slid down deep again, pulling off gradually while dragging your tongue along the entire underside. 

you made sure he felt every ridge and every flick.

your hand started moving again, wrapping tightly around the base.

his hips twitched, his mouth falling open as he tried not to break completely under the pressure. 

“oh my god.”

he was panicking in the best way.

his hips jerked uselessly while his bound arms fought against the tension in his shoulders. the tie didn’t budge.

he was entirely helpless.

it was obvious he wasn’t used to being this wrecked from so little.

you licked a stripe up the underside of his cock, base to tip, then swirled your tongue once around the head before dragging your lips off him, slow and merciless. 

“you like that?” you murmured against the shaft, your breath hot. 

he nodded frantically, his jaw clenched tight. you gave him a teasing stroke of your thumb back up his slick shaft, and he writhed beneath you, his whole body tense and trembling.

he was beautiful like this.

tied up and completely unraveling right in front of you

a sheen of sweat glistened along his hairline, his lips parted and red as he tried not to cum just from this. 

and then you gave him what he had been begging for.

you wrapped your mouth around him again and sank, going past that two-inch mark. you sank slower, letting your throat stretch around the thick shape of him as your hand gripped his base, guiding him all the way in.

his moan was guttural, torn straight from his chest. his legs shook. he tried to lift his hips and failed against the tight restraint, choking out a desperate, “baby, please–”

you moaned around him in response, the deep vibration buzzing through every inch of him, and his whole body broke. he was leaking down your throat, twitching uncontrollably, his thighs trembling against your shoulders as his mouth gasped open.

you pulled back slowly. you kissed the tip one more time like an apology, then rested your cheek against his thigh, letting him think he was getting a moment to recover. his chest heaved in broken, shallow bursts. his arms were still flexed and trembling, his knuckles pale from how hard he was gripping at nothing. 

you smiled, not even pretending to be sorry. you watched the heavy, uneven rise and fall of his chest for just a beat before you slowly leaned back down, refusing to give him time to actually catch his breath.

your mouth returned to the head of his cock, slow and reverent, before you pushed forward until you felt the stretch again. the thickness of him pressed to the very back of your tongue, your lips stretched tight around the base of the head. your jaw ached, but the way he sounded like he was breaking apart under your tongue turned you on too much to stop. 

he was muttering now, nonsensical praise and filth tangled together. “so good, baby, so good, that’s it, deeper– take it, yeah, just like that…” 

your throat fluttered in protest, the heat and thickness pressing deep. you pulled back with a wet gasp, letting the crown rest heavy on your tongue while you sucked in two quick breaths. 

jaafar watched you, his chest rising in hard, shaky swells. “you’re doin’ so good, baby,” he murmured, voice completely raw. “look at you.”

the praise made your core clench around nothing.

determined, you leaned forward, your tongue flattening beneath his weight as your lips slid lower. another inch, then another, past the soft give of your throat until you flinched, pulling back instinctively with a sharp gag. 

your eyes watered as you sucked in air.

“easy,” jaafar soothed, his wrists twisting against the satin bound to the bedframe. “don’t rush. just breathe. 

you nodded and lowered your mouth again.

guiding him with your hand as you eased your mouth open around him, taking him deeper inch by inch. you could feel every ridge, every twitch of his cock, dragging hot against your tongue. 

tears stung the corners of your eyes as the tip pressed into that deep spot again. you paused there, breathing shallowly as your body adjusted. your thighs squeezed together, achingly wet from his breathless noises and the weight of him stretching your throat. 

jaafar’s voice was thick with restraint.

“that’s it, baby… god, you’re taking me so well.” 

you whimpered around him, a choked sound that made his cock jerk in your mouth. you gripped the base tighter and pushed down a little further. every time you hit your limit, you pulled back just enough to breathe before trying again.

“mouth’s too good, baby,” he gritted out. “you’re gonna make me lose it.” 

finally, your throat gave.

jaafar choked. “oh– there you go.” his voice cracked. “there you go.”

his head dropped back, his eyes rolling up as his whole body twitched. his hips jolted slightly, but he froze immediately after, fighting every instinct not to fuck up into your mouth.

he was buried so deep you couldn’t even hum, your throat trembling around the intrusion. 

you pulled back slowly, your jaw trembling by the time you finally slipped off him and gasped for air.

jaafar was completely wrecked – his face flushed dark, his hair damp with sweat, chest rising in uneven breaths. 

you met his gaze, your own tear-lined.

you kept your eyes locked onto his as you immediately slid right back down, your hand wrapping around his base, slick and warm. 

his groan vibrated through the mattress.

your mouth was stuffed so full that your jaw felt like it was about to cramp. 

he threw his head back into the pillow, groaning so loud it vibrated through the mattress. "baby, don’t move. please don't–”

you froze, letting your throat flutter helplessly around him. you could feel the way the tight confinement drove him crazy, his hips twitching with the urge to thrust.

then, you started to move again, pulling back with a slick, obscene sound. you caught your breath in a wet gasp and then sank back down just as slowly. 

you let your hands get completely filthy, smearing the copious amounts of his own pre-cum until the noise between his thighs was a constant, heavy squelch that filled the quiet room.

jaafar’s eyes heavy-lidded as he watched you completely dismantle him. “shit, you’re making such a mess,” he hitched, his bound wrists twisting weakly against the satin.

his jaw fell completely open. a high, broken whimper leaked out of him, his dark eyes rolling back so far only the whites showed for a second. “so good—baby, please, just like that, right there—” 

you used your thumb to aggressively smear his own leaking fluid right over the sensitive slit at the tip. 

his abdomen locked. the muscles went completely rigid, a violent tremor passing from his chest straight down to his knees. he didn't even have the breath to scream.

his chest just stayed puffed up, frozen, as the first thick pulse erupted from him, painting his stomach. a low, gravelly groan finally scraped out of his throat, his bound arms straining against the headboard as his body turned itself inside out. 

but you didn't let him descend. you didn't give him that grace.

while he was still actively pulsing, your hand kept going — slower now, but heavier, dragging friction over skin that had just become a raw nerve. 

jaafar’s eyes snapped open, instantly pooling with tears from the sheer, unadulterated shock of the sensitivity.

“no, no, wait. please, hold on–” he thrashed, his hips trying to sink back into the mattress to escape your hands.

“i know,” you whispered against his jaw, your voice dripping with artificial sympathy. “i know, baby.”

you twisted your palm over the head, a wet, bruising rotation that completely short-circuited his recovery. his legs shook violently as his nervous system misfired. before the first orgasm had even cleared his chest, his hips jolted upward in a second, desperate spasm. another wave forced its way out of him, completely unprompted, a pathetic, weeping sob tearing from his lungs as he came twice in less than a minute. 

he was practically hyperventilating now, his mouth working silently as he fought for oxygen, the corners of his eyes leaking fat tears that tracked down into his hair. he looked completely ruined, entirely used. 

the mess on your hands was obscene now, a thick, white-streaked lacquer of his own seed that made every stroke sound incredibly vulgar. you picked the pace right back up, showing no mercy to his overstimulated body, your fingers wrapping tight around the base to milk him completely dry. 

“i can’t–” he cried out, his voice completely broken, his fingers twitching helplessly against the satin knots. 

“you’re doing so well for me,” you cooed, your thumb tracing the underside of his head over and over until a clear, thin fluid started to steadily leak out, mixing with the heavy mess on your palms. 

the overload took over entirely. he couldn't even form words anymore – only high, pathetic, rhythmic whines escaped him as his third climax hit, a deep, full-body shudder that left him completely paralyzed. you handled him roughly through the entire peak, forcing every last drop out of his trembling length before your hand finally came to a heavy rest over his slick skin. 

jaafar stared blankly at the ceiling, his chest heaving in broken, shallow hitches. his skin was burning to the touch, drenched in sweat, his eyes glazed as tremors continued to move through him.

slowly, you shifted off his thighs and knelt by his head. the sharp edge from before was gone now, replaced by a heavy exhaustion.

“hey,” you murmured softly, brushing a damp curl away from his forehead.

a low, breathy hum came from his throat. he turned his head, blinking up at you through a lingering haze.

your fingers reached up to the headboard, patiently working at the tight knots. the second the tie fell loose, jaafar let out a long, shaky sigh.

he lowered his arms with a quiet wince, faint red marks circling his wrists.

he reached for you, his large, warm hand reached up, gently cradling the back of your neck to draw you down.

you collapsed against his chest, burying your face in the crook of his neck as his arms wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close.

“god, baby...” he whispered against your hair, his voice rough and quiet.

a tired laugh escaped him, the sound vibrating softly through his chest. “i think you actually broke me.”

you let out a soft laugh, peppering slow, soft kisses all over his cheek and jaw.

“sorry.”

the words might have sounded more convincing if you weren't smiling. “yeah, keep smiling,” he said, the threat completely ruined by how exhausted he sounded.

“just wait until i can use my hands again.”

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───

this was wayyyyy longer than i wanted it to be

idk if i'm happy w/ it, but i hope u guys enjoyed it regardless :D

also, im trying to cut back on the cussing i write for both michael and jaafar but it slips out sometiimes</3

lmk if that's something u guys even care abt bc i don't wanna make them ooc

[realkingmj]

New Job

this singing shit ain't really working out

[realkingmj]

THIS SHIT IS NOT GOING TO PLAN

[hisgoodfish]

IM CRINEEEE

[mjssluttyfish]

just thinking about this photo of Jaafar again…

something about you baby…

warnings 18+ (minors dni)

warnings: 18+ (again minors dni)

jaafar jackson x fem!reader, soft!dom jaafar, cock warming, p in v, reader leaks like a faucet, exhibitionism, teasing, edging and denial, descriptive body worship if you squint, the shirt stays on.

summary: after going back to the hotel from the hometown michael movie premiere in gary, indiana jaafar just wants to be close to you

cock warming with jaafar would be so heavenly…

just imagine you, skin smooth, bare, your towel long forgotten, freshly showered, smelling like coco butter and dreams sitting on jaafar’s lap, his strong arms wrapped around your waist…

him holding your hips down flush against his bare lap with dominant yet somehow gentle pressure to keep you from moving.

he’d be pressed in deep, teasing that beautiful spongy spot nestled inside you.

you’d be a puddle in his arms, your pussy would be weeping down his balls onto the couch, forming a pool of your juices, but you don’t care. all you can think about is how he’s stretching you so deliciously.

his large hand would rest on your throat, not squeezing (yet) but with just enough presence so that you feel the weight of his dominance.

jaafar seems like the type to encourage you to pick up the phone during the session. he’d whisper sensually “go ahead pretty, you won’t get caught. you can do it.” imagine feeling his breath feathering your neck as he leaves a trail of light kisses. the rise and fall of his chest covered in that tight brown dress shirt as it’s pressed against your back.

his free hand lightly touching up and down your body, from your breast to the bottom of your stomach. just shy of where you want, no need, him to touch you the most.

his presence, his scent, floods all your senses. jaafar, ever the sweetheart, takes pity on you, and starts gives you a thrust or two here and there, pinching and flicking your clit every so often but stops as soon as he starts to feel you clench around the base of his cock.

yes he’s a sweetheart but he’s still a tease. working you up enough to where your breathing starts to become shallow. he’d get more and more aroused as he watches you continue to struggle to keep up the conversation.

he just loves seeing the affect he has on you just by filling you up…

you know what they say the quiet ones are always the freakiest!

A/N:

the way I just wrote this at work (playing on these people’s time lmao). but I hope yall enjoy, this is the first time I’ve ever written a drabble/imagine so give me grace ~mjssluttyfish🤍