Genuinely, why are people comfortable hating on the Jackson's looks again?? I'm seeing way too many posts of people making fun of Jaafar or Jermajesty's looks wth. I don't usually post anything but need more people to speak up about this. They DON'T KNOW you gang, and it's not 1990 anymore where shaming was normal in the media.
So seriously, if you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all!! Tf.
ೄ ◞♡ imagine cockwarming bestfriend!michael while he’s terribly attempting to show you what each button on the soundboard does. You wanted to tag along with him today to see how he worked, and as the day settles into a quiet night with only you two left in the studio, you were curious on how the music is even produced.
In the midst of showing you, you wanted a closer look. Next thing you know, he’s hiking your thigh up to get over on his lap.
“And this? What does this button do?” You point to it, acting oblivious on how the clenches of your cunt around his cock is driving him absolutely crazy. He doesn’t give a damn about teaching you anymore, all he wants is to fuck up his hips into your pussy until you’re a whimpering, gasping mess.
“Please,” You hear the softest of a whisper from him, noting the way his fingers have an iron grip around your waist, trying to hold himself back. “I-I need you to move, fuck—“
You stay still on his lap, your weight settled low and warm against him. You hum, feeling every aching twitch of his cock nestled deep inside your heat. “Answer my question first, Mikey.”
His jaw tenses, thighs flexing under yours. You watch how he struggles to find his voice, swallowing hard. “T-That’s the loop button. Whatever sound it is, it plays it continuously as long as you hold down that b-button.”
You grind your hips a little, slow and deliberate, enough to have him lose his breath. Your lips stop next to his ear, voice low and husky. “Good boy.”
That’s what broke him completely, not being able to take it anymore. You were no longer in control like you thought this entire time, hips snapping repeatedly up into you as he held you still by the waist to take every bruising thrust of his cock, turning you into a babbling mess in less than a second.
You should’ve known he never liked when things didn’t go his way.
in which thrillerera!michael and fem!celeb!reader get a little carried away in the backseat of michael's new ride .ᐟ
content warnings - switch!mikey, smut ,f oral p in v, shit pacing, as it is 3am. mike being desperate asf srry
long fic warning! wc - 2.3k sheesh
established relationship!! porn with like half a plot
authors note - hi! im totally not scared to upload my first fic omg haha why would you ever suggest that...! what stage of grief is this , also sorry if the smut is lackluster, this was my first time ever writing it.
michael's foot tapped impatiently (nervously), against the cobblestone porch.
he'd been waiting for you, for far to long at this point. the sun was already dipping into the horizon, casting a heavenly peach over the multistory house michael was nearly ready to break into, in anticipation.
he raised his closed fist once again, right before his knuckles made contact with the wooden door, it suddenly opened.
you stood there, head tilting slightly at the sight of the tall man. michael’s heart skipped a beat, It was evident that hed drawn you from whatever relaxation youd finally managed to find, by the state of you. he'd seen many beautiful girls in his day, but there was something effortless about you, eyes he could never say no to—curtained by lashes, nearly fawn like in his mind. soft lips he was sure hed be the first and last to kiss, the gentle glow of the light behind you hugged your curves; taunting him to trace his gaze down the nightgown adorned on your frame.
you are desire personified.
"michael? i thought we were meeting up tomorrow?." you say with soft inquire, rubbing the sleep that lingered on your eyes.
michael's outstretched hand awkwardly lingered before dropping to his side, then reaching up to scratch his neck. he let out a breathy giggle, looking away briefly before speaking.
"i know, i know—but you know how long its been since ive been to see you? with all your shoots? speaking of which, i got an early copy of your vogue cover, maybe it was worth the wait.” he mumbled, small nervous smile, though you two had been together long enough, you made him feel like a giddy, juvenile fan; which he couldnt deny he wasnt.
your small smile stretches to a grin as you shake your head at his words. “howd you even get that? theyve barely began manufacturing?”
The man shrugs “im desperate enough.”
You let out a genuine laugh at that, which shoots straight south on michael, he felt a greedy satisfaction at being able to make you laugh like that.
“oh, i also forgot to mention, i bought a car today.” michael says simply, as if reciting the weather.
you blink once—twice, then speak. “im sorry, a car?”
he shrugs.
you stare blankly for a breath before nodding slowly.
“i forget you are you sometimes.”
his smile is gentle, “i also drove it here, i wanted you to see it before anyone else, other than bill...and uh—paparazzi”
your eyebrows raise in intrigue, “thats bold.”
he giggles softly nodding. “Maybe, but i have a sneaking suspicion youll think it is worth it.”
you step past the threshold of the door, shutting it behind you swiftly, facing michael.
"well i wont hold you back any longer, where is it?" you say, looking past his broad frame, trying to steal a peak. which his figure doesnt allow
his features light up like a christmas tree, he prompts his hand, which you easily take.
he made it a step and a half before rambling about the features of said car, something about horsepower, milage, many things you dont have the interest in retaining, so instead you listen to his endearingly excited tone, his free hand expressing his words further as he leads you around the side of the house, to the guest driveway.
“michael, you bought a fucking cadillac?” you gasped.
the car was undoubtedly impressive, it looked like it morphed straight out of '58. cherry red complimenting the body, flashy white lining the rims and top. your mouth agape slightly, as you broke away from michael's hand to take a closer look.
you walk to the passenger side, peering into the windows, white leather seats gleamed, a lighter red then the rest of the car encapsulated the dash. the cherry and vanilla swirled effortlessly through the entirety of the interior.
as you were preoccupied, micheal was focused on much different things. he swallowed thickly as his eyes directly tracing the curve of your ass, the nightgown hid very little to the imagination, it seemed to taunt him every time you bent further, blanketing the silky skin beneath.
his arms crossed over his body, as if attempting to shield himself from the lust sinking into his bones. gaze trailing up your arched spine, he nearly choked on the jagged air he tried to maintain. Those two weeks apart were fully catching up to him.
you turn suddenly, causing michael to snap his gaze down to the concrete beneath his shoes. your eyebrows furrow slightly.
"mikey?"
"yes, my dear?" he muttered under his breath weakly
"are you okay? did something happen?" you walked the short distance to him quickly, gently placing your hands on his biceps.
he finally meets your gaze, awkward smile drifting up his features, as he nods. He is now noticing the way your eyebrows upturn in worry, is the same look he entices when he is balls deep in you. great timing.
"yes, sorry--i was just distracted." his arms unfold, hands landing on your waist. "its unlocked,” he notions to the car with a nod. “the uh, inside is bigger than it let's on." he nudges you gently, you linger slightly on the unease, but ultimately accept his answer with a nod.
his hand moves to the small of your back when you turn, he leads the both of you to the doors, he opens the passenger for you. you take extra caution when entering, worried even sitting on the seats would ruin them — this makes michael chuckle under his breath.
hes quickly at the driver's side, sliding in with ease. he glances to you, “baby, youre not gonna make the car implode by getting comfortable.” he teases gently, which elicits a half pout from you. he cant help himself from letting his eyes drift to your glossy plump lips, he felt like a pure sinner imagining the things he wanted to do between them. when you looked down, poking softly at the button and nobs lining the dash, he took his time to notice the swell of your breasts. I mean who could blame him, when the cold dusk air caused your nipples to harden. he noted the lack of bra, before biting his lip slightly, looking away. His pants never felt more constricting.
"you like it?" his uneven voice suddenly filled the quiet car, you nod with a bright smile. " 's beautiful mikey, but don't you think its a little flashy for someone who wants to be under cover? what will your dad think about this? You know how he is with money…" you inquire with a tilt of your head.
michael laughed shortly, shaking his head. "well I dunno, I thought yknow...with the album out and the success of that…I should treat myself." he shrugged slightly, eyes catching your gaze. “plus a busted dodge dart could leave those gates and still be followed, hayvenhurst is never clear of wandering eyes.” the last part quieter
you nod slowly, you guessed that made sense.
you suddenly break the short silence. "yknow, I haven't exactly 'treated' you for the album either..." your words were careful.
what michael had failed to note, was the reflection in the windows earlier was practically a mirror; you clocked his desperate gaze almost instantly. and it was certainly no secret with the tent in his pants he made no effort to conseal.
mikes breath quickened as the mood suddenly shifted. he was delayed to a awkwardly quick nod.
“and you know,” you say slower, leaning over ever so slightly to caress his thigh. “The vogue shoot took so long, and that was so nerve racking…” your eyes drift slowly to his. His blood runs cold.
"well, um, I dont want you to feel like you have to d-" michael began, eyes shifting from your delicate touch, to your eyes rapidly.
you huffed, leaning over the console to quickly catch the man's lips. michael's brain short circuited, taking a second to late to match the kiss.
he was glad you took the initiative. yes, you had been intimate before, but you still made him so jittery; with the expectation to please you. your hand reached to lay against his jaw, as you moved together desperately. His hands flew to your sides, clawing to get you closer. he gained a bit of gull, his tongue found the entrance to your lips, desperate to get past you let him; not without a struggle of dominance—which you ultimately won once he pulled away
a string of saliva lewdly connected you together, his breath fanned against your lips as he took a second to let his lungs catch up. "the backseat–its uh, nice." he winced slightly at his maladroit words.
you couldnt help the giggle that left your lips, "you're such a dork, mike." you say, teasingly. michaels face blossoms burgundy.
your eyes drag over his handsome features, before kissing his cheek briefly. You brace yourself on your knees, quickly moving to climb to the back seat. Michaels hand shoots up to aid you. In the maneuver, you made no attempt to hide the accentuation of your ass as you bent to reach the seat..
he swallowed as he shamelessly you watched over.
to say he was lost, was an understatement. He was sure he was in heaven. Your plush thighs squeezing his head, hands tangled in his hair as he got to devour you, completely. His tongue moved feverishly over your pearl, circling it, before slowly licking up your slit, where he pistoned two fingers in and out quickly, bending at every breach to assault the spongy spot inside of you. Your moans erupted throughout the small cabin, fingers grasping in a frenzy. long lost were your concerns of wrecking the freshly refurbished seats; as you arched deliciously into michaels face. He groaned into your puffy pussy, shivers rattled up your spine. “missed this—missed you.” he mumbles, before continuing his attack on your sensitive bud.
“m–mikey!” your head threw back as he sucked. “oh michael!---please!--dont stop!”
his free hand gripped the flesh of your thigh, leaving an angry mark in its wake. you weren't able to form the words before you released. your back arched once more, chasing the crashing feeling, pornographic moan following suit, as your thighs trembled.
he lapped desperately, causing you to whine at the overwhelming sensation. “mikey—!”
he pulled off, a shiteating grin finding his glistening lips. “sorry baby.” his hazy eyes met yours as he shamelessly sucked you off his fingers. You looked away quickly, flushed cheeks deepening.
He leaned up, gently but firmly moving your face to meet his, encapsulating you in a deep kiss, you tasted yourself on him. Whining below him he pulled away. “Need more—please, michael.” if he didnt know better you nearly looks distressed. He moved his hands to his belt, quickly moving to kiss slowly down your esophagus, as the metal of his belt clinked, unbuckling, he quickly shoved the pants down, he didnt even bother sliding them off fully. he stroked himself once, then twice. your lustful gaze watching his hand, you adjusted on your elbows, reaching to replace his hand. his breath sputtered under your grasp, but he let you take over, dropping his hand to your waist.
you stroked slowly a few times, before finding his gaze. he looked heartbreakingly handsome above you, sweat gently glistening his forehead, damp curls cascading down. lips red and puffy. your pussy clenched around nothing as you looked back down to his cock; angry red tip wet with pre cum. you gently guided him forward, to your entrance.
he winced above you as his tip breached you, the stretch was noticeable as your eyebrows upturned. he gently took your hand wrapped around his cock, aiding you slightly quicker into you. you let out a broken moan once he bottomed out. he faltered slightly, having to readjust his arms caging you. his pace was antagonizingly slow, you gently started bucking your hips up, his cock slid in and out easily, coated with your slick. he stifled a grunt ad he lifted slightly, finding a better angle in the tight space. angling upward had him even more deep within you, his resolved cracked at the pathetic moan that left your lips. he quickly pushed all the way in.
his pace was brutal, the built up tension, distance, and time all came crashing through michael as he thrusted in and out of you. “y–youre so deep!” you cried out, the car shook with every drag of his cock.
“you–you feel so good, baby, so tight— imagined you like this for so long.” his eyes were squeezed shut as he fucked into you nearly primally. you clung to him, nails digging into the sweaty shirt sticking to his form. the ache of your small claws sent shivers down his spine as he went impossibly quicker.
you felt him twitch inside of you, you clenched tightly, causing his head to fly back. “p–please, please keep doing that! baby–i– youre gonna make me cum, please baby!” his pathetic groans, had the tightening band in your stomach coil tighter.
“come in me–michael, please!” you begged feverishly. his hips wretched fully forward, stilling as deep as he could reach, bending down next to your ear, your senses overwhelmed by him.. “my pretty model–my pretty girl, y’gonna look so pretty carrying my babies.” he grunted out, small thrusts finding his hips as his seed released into you, with a broken whine. you came soon after. coil snapping violently, as your release washed over you euphorically.
michael pulled away enough to meet your gaze, gently shifting the locks of hair thatd fallen infront of your flushed features. he smiled warmly. “i think that was a good way to break in the new cadillac.”
you grimaced quietly, unable to help your breathy giggle. “youre a pervert.”
holy shit i pulled an all nighter to finish this bitch. please forgive the awkward transition to smut! as this was my first time writing it...smile.
anywho! hope you enjoyed this! and thank you to the people who waited!! ask or req anything else if youre interested! im now gonna try and figure out how to make a master list!! pray for me.
hi girly i love ur way of writing sm and ur fics so i came to ask u for this bc ikkkkkkk you deliver good, so im thinking about like thriller/off the way era mike , and reader and him feel like sex is too mach so they just be rubbing their shi raw, like butt naked no clouths on no shiii they be rubbing aginst eachother and maybe just mike teasing with just the tip in , sorry to bing filthy but this has been going HEAVY on my miiiiind (first time asking a diva for a req kida nervous)
bf!mike who wants to stay pure, but reader just gets him too hot and bothered .ᐟ
can they find a compromise .ᐣ
a/n - hi i love ur mind, jessie we NEED to cook
established relationship
cw - religion mentioned, just the tip!, sweetie pie mike & reader, dry (wet) humping, i mean read the req, thats whats abt to happen wink
also ignore the pink theme, i know i reserve that for perv mike but in my defense i waassss gonna make this apart of that, but it didnt make sense in the long run
god, please give him strength.
"but mikey," you say, luringly, hands smoothing over his half undone button up. "we love each other, how is it sin?" you mumble pitifully, adjusting your sit on his lap slightly.
his eyes drift over your pouty lips, still puffy from his prior attack. you look edible, gluttony lingers around his gentle grip on your hips, he fights it with every coercive word you say.
"i do love you, but we need to be married, baby." he tries to sound assured, but the slight waver doesnt miss you.
your head tilts, he looks at you sharply, knowing youre on to something hes unsure he'll be able to say no to.
you cant help the small smile streching your features, "we dont have to go all the way, what if we just..." you pause, figuring hes more likely to say no if you say it, so you just do it.
your hips lift up half way, before easing back down in a slide on his crotch. electricity zaps up your spine at the movement, your boldness taking both of you by surprise.
his lips trap his bottom lip instantly, hardly holding the grunt that threatened release.
his grip tightens.
"y/n..." he draws with warning, but making no effort to stop you.
you tentatively rise again, but instead of grinding back down, you stay up, waiting for him to move you off...but he doesnt.
shyness creeps up his skin, as he looks away. his vice grip on you tightens impossibly, as he wordlessly brings you down, directly on his hardening crotch.
you gasp slightly, but you grind quickly again, as to not lose the moment.
this unfamiliar indulgence of lust blinds michael, as he grinds up on you, hes never felt this warm. your soft whimpers cascade gently through the room, as your humps quicken.
hes practically gasping with every quick, sophomoric grind. one of his hands detatch, unsteadily exploring the clothed expanse of your body, whilst the other stays planted—half guiding your movements, half tethering himself to you—to reality; that this was, infact, happening.
your hands are finding themselves under the button up, michael groans at your firey touch.
"please—off!" you whine, tugging at the bottom of the shirt, his stomach flexes at your words. he pauses hesitantly, you notice, youre quick to bring your lips to his cheek, drifting down by his ear "i need you mikey, please..." you whine, lips connecting to his neck.
he shudders.
"barely seen you! jus' wanna look." you mumble between the litter of kisses.
he huffs, is this jehovah himself testing his resolve? cause this is purely cruel.
he nods.
you grin, planting a final kiss on his lips, before leaning back to reach for the hem, michael lifts slightly to assist in getting the article off. which is quick to the floor.
his cheeks burn, as he watches your curious gaze.
youre hands trace down his sternum, causing his breath to catch.
he swallows, scratching the back of his neck quietly. "your turn?" he whispers meekly.
you giggle softly, nodding.
god, you look so adorable with your flushed cheeks, he watches your small hands lift your sweater off. he nearly flinches as your bra catches the light. plush breasts cradled by lacy purple—is it silly that he feels jealous over a bra?
he shakes his head of the ridiculous juvenile thought.
his eyes scan slowly over you, from your shy gaze locked on the headbored behind him, to the dip of your collar bone, his eyes haze slightly at the alluring swell of your tits, rising and falling shakily from your uneven breaths. he begrudgingly drops his eyesight, to the dropping curve of your waist meeting your hips. his finger lifts, absentmindedly drawing along said dip. your brows crook upwards at the teasing touch, goosebumps rise in the wake of.
his finger moves north, finding the strap of your bra. he stares with a look you cant quite read, before abruptly breaking the heated silence. "its not a sin to look...its...its natural." he says with a clear of his throat, flicking the flimsy strap gently back to your warm skin.
you nearly ask him to repeat himself, unbelieving michael; the most timid man youve ever met, is asking you to take your bra off.
you blink, before nodding, hands reaching to unclasp the garment.
your eyes drop. frankly, scared to see michaels reaction.
the brisk air hardens your nipples, michael watches silently.
"youre...youre beautiful." he mutters.
you swallow thickly.
you feel him shift under you, sitting up, soon his hand on your back, breath on your neck. he pulls you closer to him, lips latching on your pulse as you whine.
finding his shoulders, you arch into his touch, causing a small groan to your neck.
as hes working his lips on you, you press your hips down on his once again.
in a slur of grasping hands, and desperation. you both ended up bare. michael truly didnt mean for it to come this far, but how could he reject the innate need for connection? lust? yes—sinful, but if you don't go all the way, it's technically not a sin.
for being a sinner, he sure does feel heavenly with you on top of him, cute wide eyes locked on his large, hard cock.
he watches through hooded eyes, as you bite your lip, your inexperienced fingers trace down his abdomen. before you can even land where you so desperately wanted to, michaels quick to catch your wrist in his hand.
his breath hitches at the lingering;teasing feel of you, as he looks up. you give him a deliciously curious gaze, he smiles, bringing your wrist to his lips, your perfuming whirring through his senses, before he presses a soft kiss.
"dont want you doin' all the work." he mumbles his flimsy excuse.
you buzz slightly at his words, nodding.
he uses his vantage on your arm to gently pull you down to meet his lips.
"i want you—all of you—i swear i do, but we oughta do it properly." his sigh fans across your pouty lips.
you nod again, deciding this wasnt a battle you wanted to fight at the moment, already content with how far youd managed to come.
he smiled softly at your easy acceptance. a long pause settles between you two, before michaels qauiet words redirect your attention.
"we could still...grind on each other. if youd like?" he says mousily. you light up instantly, nodding.
his hips raise tentatively, before youre quick to meet him, you slide his long length through your weeping folds in a swift motion.
michael gasps, hands quick to your waist.
a sharp whimper falls from both of your lips, as the burgundy tip catches on your entrance.
instinctively michael pulls your hips down slightly, nearly breaching your entrance, before the cloud of lust dissipates enough for him to move back an inch, opting to grind your pearl along him.
your mouth drops open at that, poor little hole clenching around nothing.
you brace yourself with your hands on his broad shoulders as you lift with his moves.
grinding back down, he moans out, head falling back slightly.
his leaky cock is blanketed in a sheen of your essence, he could weep watching your eager movements along him.
everything is warm, every move driven purely by adoration and adrenaline. he can already feel his release building up.
"please mikey...i want to feel you. i love you." you say abruptly, causing michael to whine.
"o—okay, jus'," his breath falters as you buck your hips quicker—you are a siren of desire, luring him into the depths of desire. "just the tip...its not full way...its not bad" he mutters, more so to convince himself, than you.
he raises from his laxed position on his elbows, to his palms, as you strainfully raise your hips over his cock.
he clutchs the bedsheets below him, as he lets you take him into your small grasp, aligning him up to your weeping hole.
the pearly white gates of heaven flash brightly through his mind, as he enters you. he can damn near hear the trumpets, over your shaky whimper.
this is what he was made for.
he lifts an arm to hug you to him, your tits pressing against him is the least of the overwhelming flood of you.
"please—oh god!" he cries out, his grip on you nearly bruising as he fights every single voice begging him to sink you fully down, in one quick succession. he wants oh so bad to burry himself in your tight gummy walls, and lewdly paint them white as you sigh seductively above him.
but he could never forgive himself—god would never.
but oh fuck you feel so good.
he moves you up, then down ever so slightly. his mushroom tip fully immersed in you.
his eyes squeeze shut, before blinking open. he focuses on your withering figure against him. gaze dropping to your neglected bead, his other hand finds it. rubbing small quick circles.
you fall apart, the dam in your core combusts, washing over your exposed skin. lapping at the heightened nerves of your release, as you clench tightly around michaels tip.
he watches your wanton face, as it morphs through the fazes of pure ecstasy. hes never seen anything more beautiful.
he wants more, more of your love, of your touch, of your release. but he cant even adress those thoughts before his own finish line is crashed through.
he moves out of you—in a blink, he has your back to the matress, as his cum squirts along the expance of your stomach. he cries out, as he paints your soft skin milky white.
the devil has won.
a/n - ok u can totally tell this was written at 3am, please exuse the horrid writting; if you just dont read super in depth then all will be good!!!!
not proofread i am SO sorry lmao i can not for a life of me reread this nightmare, also sorry again if this is choppy i miggggggght be as high as the empire state, speazking of which trump made the knicks lose AUUGGGHHH. its ok tho mamdani will fix it mashallah knicks in 5
also sorry for my inactivity BUT IM DIALED IN ON ASKS!! when i wake up i promise ill pump out actually coherent pieces!!
im sure ill have post blunt clarity about this post later but wtv GOODNIGHT
hi girly i love ur way of writing sm and ur fics so i came to ask u for this bc ikkkkkkk you deliver good, so im thinking about like thriller/off the way era mike , and reader and him feel like sex is too mach so they just be rubbing their shi raw, like butt naked no clouths on no shiii they be rubbing aginst eachother and maybe just mike teasing with just the tip in , sorry to bing filthy but this has been going HEAVY on my miiiiind (first time asking a diva for a req kida nervous)
bf!mike who wants to stay pure, but reader just gets him too hot and bothered .ᐟ
can they find a compromise .ᐣ
a/n - hi i love ur mind, jessie we NEED to cook
established relationship
cw - religion mentioned, just the tip!, sweetie pie mike & reader, dry (wet) humping, i mean read the req, thats whats abt to happen wink
also ignore the pink theme, i know i reserve that for perv mike but in my defense i waassss gonna make this apart of that, but it didnt make sense in the long run
god, please give him strength.
"but mikey," you say, luringly, hands smoothing over his half undone button up. "we love each other, how is it sin?" you mumble pitifully, adjusting your sit on his lap slightly.
his eyes drift over your pouty lips, still puffy from his prior attack. you look edible, gluttony lingers around his gentle grip on your hips, he fights it with every coercive word you say.
"i do love you, but we need to be married, baby." he tries to sound assured, but the slight waver doesnt miss you.
your head tilts, he looks at you sharply, knowing youre on to something hes unsure he'll be able to say no to.
you cant help the small smile streching your features, "we dont have to go all the way, what if we just..." you pause, figuring hes more likely to say no if you say it, so you just do it.
your hips lift up half way, before easing back down in a slide on his crotch. electricity zaps up your spine at the movement, your boldness taking both of you by surprise.
his lips trap his bottom lip instantly, hardly holding the grunt that threatened release.
his grip tightens.
"y/n..." he draws with warning, but making no effort to stop you.
you tentatively rise again, but instead of grinding back down, you stay up, waiting for him to move you off...but he doesnt.
shyness creeps up his skin, as he looks away. his vice grip on you tightens impossibly, as he wordlessly brings you down, directly on his hardening crotch.
you gasp slightly, but you grind quickly again, as to not lose the moment.
this unfamiliar indulgence of lust blinds michael, as he grinds up on you, hes never felt this warm. your soft whimpers cascade gently through the room, as your humps quicken.
hes practically gasping with every quick, sophomoric grind. one of his hands detatch, unsteadily exploring the clothed expanse of your body, whilst the other stays planted—half guiding your movements, half tethering himself to you—to reality; that this was, infact, happening.
your hands are finding themselves under the button up, michael groans at your firey touch.
"please—off!" you whine, tugging at the bottom of the shirt, his stomach flexes at your words. he pauses hesitantly, you notice, youre quick to bring your lips to his cheek, drifting down by his ear "i need you mikey, please..." you whine, lips connecting to his neck.
he shudders.
"barely seen you! jus' wanna look." you mumble between the litter of kisses.
he huffs, is this jehovah himself testing his resolve? cause this is purely cruel.
he nods.
you grin, planting a final kiss on his lips, before leaning back to reach for the hem, michael lifts slightly to assist in getting the article off. which is quick to the floor.
his cheeks burn, as he watches your curious gaze.
youre hands trace down his sternum, causing his breath to catch.
he swallows, scratching the back of his neck quietly. "your turn?" he whispers meekly.
you giggle softly, nodding.
god, you look so adorable with your flushed cheeks, he watches your small hands lift your sweater off. he nearly flinches as your bra catches the light. plush breasts cradled by lacy purple—is it silly that he feels jealous over a bra?
he shakes his head of the ridiculous juvenile thought.
his eyes scan slowly over you, from your shy gaze locked on the headbored behind him, to the dip of your collar bone, his eyes haze slightly at the alluring swell of your tits, rising and falling shakily from your uneven breaths. he begrudgingly drops his eyesight, to the dropping curve of your waist meeting your hips. his finger lifts, absentmindedly drawing along said dip. your brows crook upwards at the teasing touch, goosebumps rise in the wake of.
his finger moves north, finding the strap of your bra. he stares with a look you cant quite read, before abruptly breaking the heated silence. "its not a sin to look...its...its natural." he says with a clear of his throat, flicking the flimsy strap gently back to your warm skin.
you nearly ask him to repeat himself, unbelieving michael; the most timid man youve ever met, is asking you to take your bra off.
you blink, before nodding, hands reaching to unclasp the garment.
your eyes drop. frankly, scared to see michaels reaction.
the brisk air hardens your nipples, michael watches silently.
"youre...youre beautiful." he mutters.
you swallow thickly.
you feel him shift under you, sitting up, soon his hand on your back, breath on your neck. he pulls you closer to him, lips latching on your pulse as you whine.
finding his shoulders, you arch into his touch, causing a small groan to your neck.
as hes working his lips on you, you press your hips down on his once again.
in a slur of grasping hands, and desperation. you both ended up bare. michael truly didnt mean for it to come this far, but how could he reject the innate need for connection? lust? yes—sinful, but if you don't go all the way, it's technically not a sin.
for being a sinner, he sure does feel heavenly with you on top of him, cute wide eyes locked on his large, hard cock.
he watches through hooded eyes, as you bite your lip, your inexperienced fingers trace down his abdomen. before you can even land where you so desperately wanted to, michaels quick to catch your wrist in his hand.
his breath hitches at the lingering;teasing feel of you, as he looks up. you give him a deliciously curious gaze, he smiles, bringing your wrist to his lips, your perfuming whirring through his senses, before he presses a soft kiss.
"dont want you doin' all the work." he mumbles his flimsy excuse.
you buzz slightly at his words, nodding.
he uses his vantage on your arm to gently pull you down to meet his lips.
"i want you—all of you—i swear i do, but we oughta do it properly." his sigh fans across your pouty lips.
you nod again, deciding this wasnt a battle you wanted to fight at the moment, already content with how far youd managed to come.
he smiled softly at your easy acceptance. a long pause settles between you two, before michaels qauiet words redirect your attention.
"we could still...grind on each other. if youd like?" he says mousily. you light up instantly, nodding.
his hips raise tentatively, before youre quick to meet him, you slide his long length through your weeping folds in a swift motion.
michael gasps, hands quick to your waist.
a sharp whimper falls from both of your lips, as the burgundy tip catches on your entrance.
instinctively michael pulls your hips down slightly, nearly breaching your entrance, before the cloud of lust dissipates enough for him to move back an inch, opting to grind your pearl along him.
your mouth drops open at that, poor little hole clenching around nothing.
you brace yourself with your hands on his broad shoulders as you lift with his moves.
grinding back down, he moans out, head falling back slightly.
his leaky cock is blanketed in a sheen of your essence, he could weep watching your eager movements along him.
everything is warm, every move driven purely by adoration and adrenaline. he can already feel his release building up.
"please mikey...i want to feel you. i love you." you say abruptly, causing michael to whine.
"o—okay, jus'," his breath falters as you buck your hips quicker—you are a siren of desire, luring him into the depths of desire. "just the tip...its not full way...its not bad" he mutters, more so to convince himself, than you.
he raises from his laxed position on his elbows, to his palms, as you strainfully raise your hips over his cock.
he clutchs the bedsheets below him, as he lets you take him into your small grasp, aligning him up to your weeping hole.
the pearly white gates of heaven flash brightly through his mind, as he enters you. he can damn near hear the trumpets, over your shaky whimper.
this is what he was made for.
he lifts an arm to hug you to him, your tits pressing against him is the least of the overwhelming flood of you.
"please—oh god!" he cries out, his grip on you nearly bruising as he fights every single voice begging him to sink you fully down, in one quick succession. he wants oh so bad to burry himself in your tight gummy walls, and lewdly paint them white as you sigh seductively above him.
but he could never forgive himself—god would never.
but oh fuck you feel so good.
he moves you up, then down ever so slightly. his mushroom tip fully immersed in you.
his eyes squeeze shut, before blinking open. he focuses on your withering figure against him. gaze dropping to your neglected bead, his other hand finds it. rubbing small quick circles.
you fall apart, the dam in your core combusts, washing over your exposed skin. lapping at the heightened nerves of your release, as you clench tightly around michaels tip.
he watches your wanton face, as it morphs through the fazes of pure ecstasy. hes never seen anything more beautiful.
he wants more, more of your love, of your touch, of your release. but he cant even adress those thoughts before his own finish line is crashed through.
he moves out of you—in a blink, he has your back to the matress, as his cum squirts along the expance of your stomach. he cries out, as he paints your soft skin milky white.
the devil has won.
a/n - ok u can totally tell this was written at 3am, please exuse the horrid writting; if you just dont read super in depth then all will be good!!!!
not proofread i am SO sorry lmao i can not for a life of me reread this nightmare, also sorry again if this is choppy i miggggggght be as high as the empire state, speazking of which trump made the knicks lose AUUGGGHHH. its ok tho mamdani will fix it mashallah knicks in 5
also sorry for my inactivity BUT IM DIALED IN ON ASKS!! when i wake up i promise ill pump out actually coherent pieces!!
im sure ill have post blunt clarity about this post later but wtv GOODNIGHT
SUMMARY: inspired by this request. Michael spends months hiding an engagement ring and waiting for the perfect moment to propose. unfortunately, Y/N doesn’t know about either of those things and writes a song making that everybody else’s problem.
CONTENT: michael jackson x singer!reader. established relationship. raye inspired reader. “where is my husband!” - all credits go miss raye! fluff. comedy. public shenanigans. michael needs to hurry up. did no proofread.
.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・.・。.・゜✭ .
Everyone had accepted one simple truth: Michael Jackson and Y/N were going to get married.
Nobody questioned ‘if’ anymore. They only questioned the ‘when’.
Which, unfortunately for Michael, had become the most frequently asked question in entertainment journalism.
They had been together for nearly four years now.
She was the industry’s newest darling—a powerhouse vocalist whose soul, jazz and pop influences had made her one of the fastest-rising artists at the time. Every awards season belonged to her just as much as it belonged to him.
Together, they were impossible to ignore.
Magazine covers.
Award shows.
Movie premieres.
Charity galas.
Somehow they always ended up photographed laughing in corners, stealing little glances when they thought cameras weren’t paying attention.
And every interview somehow eventually became the same conversation.
“So…” The interviewer smiled knowingly. “When’s the wedding?”
Y/N always laughed. “Don’t look at me!” She shook her head and held out her hands. “It’s not me you should be asking that!”
The audience laughed.
Michael laughed.
The interviewer laughed.
Then the camera inevitably cut to Michael.
He’d smile innocently. “What?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’?” she’d tease. “They’re asking you!”
He’d simply shrug. “I don’t know what everyone’s talking about.”
“Oh, you know exactly what they’re talking about.”
“I really don’t.”
“You’re such a bad liar!”
Another interview. Another city. Another red carpet.
“So,” another reporter grinned, “have you started planning the wedding?”
Y/N sighed dramatically. “Well, I’ve started.”
Michael blinked beside her. “You have?”
“Yes, I have.” She nodded throughly. “I’ve picked flowers.”
Michael tilted his head at her. “You have?”
She nodded once again. “I’ve picked music.”
“…You have?”
“Oh, honey, I’ve even picked the cake.” She stated in a very serious tone.
Michael laughed. “Of course you have.” He said, pulling her closer with the arm he had around her shoulder and placing a kiss on her temple.
The clip aired everywhere.
Fans adored them.
The jokes became a running thing.
Whenever Michael left for another leg of his tour, Y/N would wave him goodbye dramatically.
“Come back with a ring!”
He’d point at her. “No promises.” She threw hands every time.
Months passed. Another tour. Another album. Another awards season.
And still…
No proposal in sight.
But what nobody knew—not the press, not the fans, not even Y/N—was that tucked safely inside the back drawer of Michael’s dresser sat a navy velvet ring box.
Inside rested the most beautiful marquise-cut diamond he’d ever seen.
He’d spent nearly six months searching for it.
Six long months of sneaking around in jewelry stores.
Six long, exhausting months of yearning to drop on one knee and call the woman he loved his fiancée and eventually wife already.
But Michael simply refused to rush something he’d dreamed about his entire life.
He wanted the moment perfect. She deserved nothing but perfection.
Y/N, meanwhile, was getting very impatient.
Not genuinely, thought. Comically impatient.
On one specific afternoon she stormed into the studio chewing on some gun and carrying righteous indignation.
Her producer looked up from the piano. He grimaced. “Should I be worried?”
“Yes.” She answered, dropping onto a chair near the piano.
He sighed, turning on the bench to face her. “What happened?”
“My boyfriend is testing me.” She pressed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes harshly.
“…Michael?”
“Michael.” She affirmed in a low voice while nodding.
“He do something?”
“Absolutely not.”
“…Okay?” The producer frowned. That man was getting confused.
Y/N groaned and dropped her head dramatically. “He won’t propose.”
Silence.
He pondered for a few seconds before nodding. “Yeah, that’s actually fair.”
“Thank you!” She threw herself dramatically onto the chair one more time. “I’ve been so, so patient.”
He snorted at her, getting up from the bench and placing his hands on his waist. “Darling, you’ve been making jokes about it on national television.”
“Exactly.” She pointed a sharp finger at him.
“So what’s your plan?”
Y/N sat up slowly, a mischievous smile slowly spreading across her face.
“I am about to write the most direct song of my entire tiny career.”
Her producer immediately started laughing. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.”
Three hours later she walked into the vocal booth.
The band watched through the glass.
The backing vocalists waited beside their microphones.
She adjusted her headphones. Smiled and cleared her throat.
Then announced: “Okay, this one goes out to my wonderful boyfriend,” A beat. “who apparently needs some instruction.”
Her producer snorted, shaking his head at her. This girl was impossible.
When the recording was finished, the producer slowly removed his headphone. “You’re going to send Michael Jackson into cardiac arrest.” He noted.
“Oh, I know.”
“You’ve publicly declared war.”
“Well, you know what they say,” She said through the microphone while shrugging slightly.
The producer shrugged and frowned. “Uh, I actually have no idea what ‘they say’” He paused. “Please, enlighten me.”
Y/N smirked. “All’s fair in love and poetry.”
⋆⭒˚.⋆
She kept the song secret for a few weeks.
Even from Michael. Well, especially from Michael.
Which made the invitation to perform at a major Award show ceremony all the more dangerous.
Nobody knew what she planned.
Not the audience.
Not the press.
Certainly not the man sitting front row in a black tuxedo who believed he was simply there to support his girlfriend.
The auditorium lights dimmed. A spotlight illuminated center stage. The curtain lifted and the audience erupted.
Y/N stood beneath a vintage microphone wearing a floor-length crimson gown that glittered beneath every light in the room.
The silhouette hugged her perfectly before flowing elegantly to the floor.
Her hair curled softly beneath her jaw.
She looked like she’d stepped straight out of a 1950s Hollywood film.
Behind her waited an entire live band.
Piano.
Double bass.
Drums.
A brass section.
And three women in matching satin gowns standing behind vintage microphones.
Michael smiled immediately at the sight. But something about this entire setup made him a bit nervous, what he couldn’t place a finger on it.
“You know, she didn’t let me hear this one yet,” Michael commented casually to the man sitting beside him. It was Y/N’s producer, who didn’t take his eyes off the stage.
“Oh, trust me, I know.” He answered with a scoff.
Michael frowned a little at that response. “She just keeps saying it’s ‘special.’”
The man scratched the back of his neck and clicked his tongue. “It is.”
“You’ve heard it?” Michael asked, turning towards him.
“Unfortunately.”
Michael laughed. “Unfortunately?”
“Yeah, yeah,” The producer finally looked at him. “You’ll see.”
Then the lights dimmed.
The pianist played the opening chord.
Y/N wrapped one elegant hand around the microphone.
Smiled sweetly.
“Oh, baby…” She sang, her voice floating through the room like velvet. Warm. Playful. Dangerously theatrical. Then she tilted her head, a mischievous grin appeared on her red lips. “Where the hell is my husband?”
The audience exploded.
People gasped and screamed before she’d even finished the sentence.
Michael covered half his face with one hand.
“Oh my God…” He murmured under his breath.
The cameras immediately found him. Worst possible thing ever for Michael.
Because Michael Jackson looked like he was trying to decide if he should laugh, cry or faint.
Y/N caught him looking. Smirked. Then continued.
God, how he loved her.
Michael slowly turned to her producer with widened eyes.
The producer was doing his absolute best to not look back at him.
Michael shook his head in disbelief, a smile starting to appear on his face. “You knew about this?”
“Mhm.”
“And you let her do this?”
The man shook his head with a tiny smile, but after a few seconds the nods turned into a negative head shaking, the smile vanishing from his face as he stared at a very amused Michael Jackson. He gulped.
“Michael, I value my life.” He kept glancing between Y/N and Michael. “Do you know how stubborn your girlfriend is?”
Michael grinned and nodded knowingly.
“Your wife can be very persuasive—No, not wife—I mean, I—girlfrie—wife to be—I mean—“ Michel roared with laughter at the poor man. “I’ll just…” He sealed his lips shut and turned towards the stage once again with cheeks as red as Y/N’s gown.
Michael stared at him for a few more seconds before sighing with content and turning his eyes to his girlfriend on stage.
The backing vocalists answered every phrase behind her like a mischievous Greek chorus.
“Woo-hoo…” She wandered slowly across the stage. Shielding her eyes dramatically as though searching the audience. “What is taking him so long…” She scanned the balcony, the orchestra and the celebrity tables. “…to find me?” She pointed at herself.
By the second verse the audience had completely surrendered to her.
“I’m doing lonely acrobatics…”
She dramatically reached behind herself pretending to unzip the back of the gown.
Then threw one hand dramatically into the air. “This where your wife is!”
Without missing a beat she pointed directly toward the front row. Toward Michael.
Every head in the theater turned.
Michael slowly leaned back in his chair.
He couldn’t stop smiling.
When the bridge of the song came through entire room somehow got louder.
“I would like a ring…” She lifted her left hand beneath the spotlight. Completely bare, no ring in sight.
She admired the nonexistent engagement ring as though it were worth millions. Turning her wrist elegantly, smiling proudly at absolutely nothing. “I would like a diamond ring…”
She extended the imaginary diamond toward the audience.
“I would like a biiiiig…” Her hands spread dramatically apart. “…and shiny diamond…” She suddenly gasped and shielded her eyes.
“Oh!”She stumbled backward theatrically. “It’s blinding.” She said, a little comment in between the verses.
Then the choreography began.
All four women lifted their left hands simultaneously.
Waving their empty ring fingers around the theater, turning their wrists and admiring invisible diamonds from every angle.
One backing vocalist pretended to faint over Y/N’s imaginary engagement ring.
Another applauded.
The third dramatically shielded her own eyes from the ‘sparkle.’
The theater roared.
Michael had both hands over his mouth now, shoulders shaking with laughter. He wasn’t even trying to be discreet about it.
Y/N looked directly at him and grinned wider.
She was loving every second of this.
The music softened, brass disappearing and drums fading away, until only the piano remained.
Y/N glanced toward the ceiling.
Then slowly lifted one finger upward. “…Grandma?” She nodded to herself, pointing upwards once again. “Oh, there she is.” She smiled with satisfaction.
Then, through the speakers, a female elderly voice echoed through the speakers.
“Your husband is coming.”
The audience yelled at the iconic line.
Michael looked at the producer in disbelief, his cheeks starting to hurt from smiling and blushing. “She even got grams involved?” He couldn’t believe it!
The producer nodded once like it was obvious.
“Oh, yeah, the whole family’s is out to get you.” He said bluntly. Michael laughed loudly once again.
Then, Y/N clutched her chest dramatically.
She laughed into the microphone at herself before stepping away from it completely.
And instead of returning to center stage she wondered towards the very edge of it.
Toward the front row.
Toward Michael.
Every camera followed.
Every screen in the theater showed only them now.
She stopped directly in front of him.
Only a few feet separated them.
Michael looked up at her with the expression of a man realizing he was absolutely not surviving this performance.
Then—to everyone’s surprise—Y/N gracefully lowered herself onto the edge of the stage, onto her stomach and resting on her elbows. Her chin settled into her hands. High heeled feet kicked lazily behind her in the air. Completely girlish. Completely shameless. Like she was lying on her bedroom floor gossiping with her best friend instead of performing in front of Hollywood.
The crowd completely lost whatever composure they still had left.
Michael threw his head back laughing before looking back at her with the most loving and tender eyes known to mankind.
“Oh, my love…” He mumbled through smiles.
She smiled innocently at him and batted her eyelashes. Then pointed directly at him.
“Where…” She tilted her head, singing in a paused voice. “…is my husband?” She smiled so sweetly it was almost criminal.
The cameras immediately cut to Michael.
He bit his lip, a big, big smile on his face.
The audience screamed louder.
He shook his head lightly before looking around the theater innocently. Then—that teasing, teasing man—pointed towards himself. “Me?”
The audacity of this man! Y/N only raised a sharp brow in response.
The building practically shook.
People were already standing.
Cheering.
Screaming.
Whistling.
Y/N laughed so hard she had to pull the microphone away from her mouth.
She leaned forward just enough to tap the tip of Michael’s chin with one finger before gracefully pushing herself back to her feet.
She smoothed down the shimmering red gown as though she hadn’t just publicly confronted the biggest pop star on Earth just because she could.
Then she turned and walked back toward center stage with the effortless elegance of an Old Hollywood leading lady.
The band exploded back to life.
The brass returned.
The backing vocalists joined her one last time.
She held the final note effortlessly.
The lights cut.
Blackout.
Then, half a second later, the standing ovation hit.
It was deafening.
Michael stood immediately. Still laughing. Applauding louder and harder than anyone in the room.
She caught his eye from across the stage.
Blew him a kiss.
He caught it.
Pressed it dramatically against his heart.
Then mouthed “You’re unbelievable.”
She simply winked. Not sorry. Not even a little bit.
The ovation continued.
And then, something nobody noticed. Not the cameras. Not the audience. Not even Y/N.
As the applause kept going Michael quietly slipped one hand inside his tuxedo jacket.
His fingertips brushed against the small navy velvet box resting inside of his inner pocket.
He smiled and looked down at the object. Then his eyes traveled back to woman taking her final bow beneath a shower of applause.
She thought she’d just cornered him.
She thought she’d declared war.
She thought she’d just spent four minutes publicly bullying her boyfriend into proposing.
Little did she know the ring she’d spent the entire performance pretending to wear already existed.
And was less than two feet away from her.
Michael closed his hand around the little velvet box for a second longer than necessary before slipping it carefully back into his pocket.
Beside him, Y/N’s producer happened to glance down at that exact moment, his eyes catching the corner of the small box. He blinked once. Twice. Mouth opened and closed. Then looked slowly back at Michael. Actual relief crossed his face.
“Oh, thank goodness, man!” He ran a hand through his hair.
Michael didn’t say anything, just smiled and bit his bottom lip. He simply looked back toward the stage, where Y/N was taking another bow beneath the thunderous applause, still wearing that triumphant smile she wore whenever she thought she had won a battle.
The producer followed his gaze.
A slow grin spread across his face.
“Well,” he murmured. “Guess she wasn’t singing to the void after all.”
Michael laughed quietly to himself.
“No,” he admitted, unable to take his eyes off her. “She wasn’t.”
The applause kept echoing through the theater.
Y/N waved one last time before disappearing behind the curtain, completely unaware of Michael’s plans.
Michael smiled to himself. ‘Okay,’ he thought. ‘I think I’ve made my future wife wait long enough.’
“She is never going to let you live this performance down, you know that, right?” the producer asked rhetorically.
Michael’s smile only grew. “Oh, I know.” He patted the pocket of his jacket almost absentmindedly.
through every era, him. 18+ (thanks to my baby @slugstarzz for the idea, ily angel <3)
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Michael was supposed to be on stage five minutes ago.
Five whole minutes of an ecstatic crowd, buzzing with undeniable excitement, awaiting the King of Pop to perform for his Dangerous tour — their throats burning from screaming for said man to take the stage and give them a night they won’t forget.
Michael was never late — his whole forte being punctuality, something instilled in him since he started performing. He wanted to excel for his fans, never keep them waiting or let them down.
But, alas, there he was — late.
Five minutes in show business was equivalent to three hours — Michael’s musical team bustling into panic every second longer that he remained missing.
Michael knew he was going to be in trouble for this — but he knew they wouldn’t understand the reasonings for his tardiness.
For there was only one reason — he needed something. Badly.
A good luck charm.
For most, it’s a kiss from their partner, or a hug from their parent, or for some, it’s a smoke break to calm their nerves, or a tradition they swore to never break before every important moment in their life.
For Michael Jackson, though? It’s sliding his cock into his girlfriend’s wet pussy thanks to her little surprise.
And that was exactly the rationale behind his delay.
If he came down to it, jokingly, he would blame it on you — you had caused the lagging to his concert.
You and your perfect secret.
Michael had entered his dressing room, a perfect fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, wanting to spend a few uninterrupted moments with his girl before he danced and sang the night away for his supportive fans.
What he didn’t expect to walk into was a quickie that would leave his team in a frenzy.
“Hey, doll,” He breathed as he walked in, eyes instantly softening as he met your pretty frame stood by the makeup counter, “I’m on in fifteen, wanted to say g’bye.”
Michael strode towards you, anxiety uplifting from his tense shoulders as the smell of your sweet perfume and sight of your gorgeous face hit his senses, hands instantly sliding around the curve of your waist, pulling you flush against him.
“Before you do,” You started, hands pressed against his chest, eyes twinkling with something he wasn’t familiar with as you peered up at him, “I have a surprise.”
Michael huffed out a breathy laugh, “Scarin’ me, baby, what is it?”
“Don’t be scared. You’re gonna love it. I got it just f’you, Mikey.”
An eyebrow perked up Michael’s face in confusion as he listens to your words, anticipation flooding his emotions as he awaited your next move.
And any chance of Michael being on time disengaged itself the second you turned on your heel and bent over, lifting up your mini-skirt and revealing yourself to him.
A gasp ripped from Michael’s throat, mouth falling open in disbelieving shock as his eyes locked on the new addition the adorned the top swell of your left ass-cheek.
‘M’ — a tattoo, in dainty, fresh black ink now cladding your skin, a familiar symbol that not only also hung from the Cartier necklace around your neck, but also the custom-made panties that Michael had made for you.
But, this? This by far took the cake.
His initial, his, now marking your skin for all entirety. A cursive scripture of the first letter of his name — permanently attached to the curve of your behind for anyone and everyone to see.
Everyone to see that you belonged to him.
A thought so obscene in his mind that he couldn’t not do something about it.
Couldn’t not repay you for your devotion.
And that’s exactly why he was late.
He had kissed you with such passion it had your knees buckling underneath you as his hands cupped your face — whining at the sound of his own lustful groans into your mouth.
He wasted no time — ripping the clothes of your body like you were on fire, cascading them to the floor and pulling you against him swiftly, tugging you both down onto the couch that tucked itself neatly into the corner of the room.
First, worked you open with his tongue and fingers — whining at the sweet taste of your juices on his tongue as his long, slender fingers curled inside of you, earning seductive whimpers and gasps of pleasure as he lapped at your cunt like it was his last day on Earth.
Or maybe at such a speed as he had thousands of fans waiting for him?
Right now, he didn’t care — the thought of it not even crossing his mind as he made you cum twice before he even freed himself from his slacks, and dragging you on top of him.
And that’s where he had you now. Time ticking graciously slow for everybody else as they awaited him — but not you two.
Not when he had you bent over in his lap — pushed into a brutal position of reverse cowgirl, as they call it, your legs straddling his bare, meaty thighs as he held you back by your arms, thrusting up into you with deep, swift strokes that your eyes stuck in the back of your head.
“Mmph—f-fuck, Mikey—oh, God, I—“
“I know, baby, I know.” He panted, eyes fluttering at the sensation of your cunt pulsating around his hard cock.
He bucked up into you faster with each thrust — tip, drooling eagerly with pre-cum, slamming against your cervix with each jolt of his languid hips, your name falling from his lips like a prayer at the feeling of your soaking cunt. You wailed with each jerk of his cock — tears falling freely down your face at the sheer intensity of the love-making.
You and Michael has dabbled in sex before one of his shows — the erotic notion calming his nerves and releasing tension before he worked so hard on stage. But, it had never been like this before.
Michael was fucking into you with irrevocable passion — his cock ramming so hard into you it had you seeing stars through your glassy vision.
The reason for his position, one you had never explored yet, was not only so he could watch the ripple of your ass against his pelvis every time he dragged his cock in and out of you — but to also watch the shine of your freshly inked up cheek, the light catching the reddened ‘M’ perfectly.
His eyes never left it — gaze completely captivated by the ink that clad your smooth skin, practically drooling at the sight of it.
“Y’so fuckin’ good to me,” He grunted, a trickle of sweat bleeding down his temple, “Markin’ yourself up with my name for life.”
You cried out — moans of undeniable ecstasy falling past your lips at his loving words, pleasure coursing through you like scorching heat as his pace never let up. Sounds of your lewd whines and the provocative squelch of your soaking cunt filling the room with each brutal thrust.
“You’re fuckin’ mine forever now, baby. No one else can have you like this, see that pretty little ‘M’ and not know I fucked you senseless first, huh, dollface?”
“Oh, yes, Michael!” You exclaimed from your swollen rosebuds, clit twitching as you neared your third orgasm of the evening without it even being touched.
Seven minutes had ticked over quicker than you expected — not that either of you were keeping track of precious time as he continued to fuck up into you like his life depended on it.
“Holy fuck, Mikey—shit, g-gonna cum!”
“Cummin’ already, princess, barely even got in’ya baby?” His tone was taunting as if he hadn’t been slaughtering your tight cunt for the past seven minutes.
You came with a scream louder than you intended — cunt spasming violently around him, clenching his cock so tightly it had Michael cursing under his breath. Your head threw back, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure flowed through you with ease, lip sucked between your teeth as Michael’s grip on your arms behind you tightened.
“‘M supposed to be out there right now.” Michael admitted, breath ragged, “But, the way this pretty cunt is sucking me in is makin’ me wanna cancel the whole fuckin’ tour just so I can stare at this pretty ‘tat and fill you up every day.”
You came down from your high, whimpering as Michael’s intense thrusts of his throbbingly hard cock never decreased, cunt twitching around him — you’d never felt pleasure quite like it.
You bit back a smile as you internally thanked past self for getting the tattoo.
And you knew exactly what you were doing — the strategic placement of it had every calculated reasoning. Michael was definitely, proven countless times during your sexual intercourse and private moments, an ass man — eyes remaining locked on every recoil of your plump behind as he rapidly bucked up inside you.
“‘M so close, mama,” Michael whined, voice cracking from the overwhelming arousal that pumped through him, “Y’don’t know what that thing is doin’ to me.”
You knew exactly what his insinuation to your inked-up skin meant — his profound fucking of your cunt revealing every single feeling he had about your new addition.
As Michael repeatedly slammed into you, prominently hard dick now angled directly to abuse the sweet spot inside you, a familiar feeling crept up your abdomen once more.
Michael groaned lowly behind you, now taking your arms in one hand, the other reaching over to grip your face tightly in his grasp, “Wanna see your pretty face when you cum for me, baby.” He moaned, eyebrows curled up into a pleasureful expression, “Give it to me, angel, please.”
With his desperate plea for your orgasm and the erotic arousal glistening in his vision — you broke. Your fourth orgasm hitting harder than the other three, jaw going slack as you squealed as overstimulating arousal flooded your brain.
Michael wasn’t far behind you — the sensation of your cunt convulsing viciously, squeezing his cock, screaming for his release, had his hips finally stuttering as he pulled out quickly.
He didn’t even need to pump his cock as he came, the sensation of your cunt previously milking him for all he’s worth was enough to have him spurting all over the swell of your ass — groaning loudly as his cum splattered all over your skin. His cum shot hard over you — leaving you whining at the warm gush of his fertile, milky-white seed as he jerked explosively behind you.
Finally, he stopped — body slumping behind you as the aftershock of his release coaxed his body into stillness. He heaved behind you — chest rising and falling quickly as he attempted to catch his lost breath, the grip on your arms loosening ever so slightly, but still enough to keep you from falling forwards.
His head, now resting against the cold of the wall, angled itself down to let the sight of your pretty tattoo fill his vision. A smile trickled its way onto his flushed face once more — a blissful reminder of your loyalty to him each time it caught his eye.
You winced, eyes fluttered shut as you came down from your ferocious high, as Michael ran a delicate thumb over the sensitive skin where the ink resided, body jerking at the sudden touch to the sore, swollen skin — watching as his hot cum dribbled all around his new favourite thing about you, decorating your skin even more so.
“So pretty,” He mumbled, eyes never leaving the vision of his cum trickling all around the ink — now not only branded by name, but his sticky seed.
He pulled you against his chest, hand snaking around your body to cup your waist, pressing kisses to your warm cheek and down your neck — ignoring the loud, incessant bangs against the locked door of his dressing room as his team finally found where he had been for the now ten minutes.
You turned your face towards him, locking lips with him briefly, humming into his mouth as the tang of your own essence still lingered on his tongue, before pulling off with a pop,
“So,” You breathed, a smile tugging onto your own as your mirrored his, “D’you like it?”
He didn’t need to answer — only laughing as the evidence of his adoration for it dripped down the swell of your ass.
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