From the moment he laid eyes on you, stood with his sister, La Toya, introduced to the family as his sibling’s friend at Hayvenhurst for the first time, in a pretty plaid skirt and a taupe oversized sweater — he knew he loved you.
Loved you so much he’d go to the ends of the Earth for you. Travel miles just to hold you for 5 minutes. Cancel every tour, every show if you needed him, at the drop of a hat.
Especially so once you became his official girl.
He’d do absolutely anything.
Anything but make sweet love to you.
It kept you up at night — how can a man so infatuated not want to strip you bare and ravish you till the sun came up. Not want to see you, stark naked, in all your glory, writhing and whining underneath him as he took you.
Michael had his reasons.
Timidity. Inexperience. Insecurity.
But, the largest factor of all — religion.
Michael was a raised as a devoted Jehovah’s Witness — something his Mother had instilled in him from birth. A religion built on morality and modesty. A religion that forbid sexual intercourse before marriage.
Michael wasn’t as devoted as his Mother — ever since his album Off the Wall, he had slowly began parting ways with the religion. Distancing himself as the connotations of his album were subtly frowned upon due to mentions of sensuality and infidelity — however, his personal beliefs about a higher power still remained.
He still, after his parting, believed that sex was something marital and holy — something to be worshipped and protected, performed with someone you truly love and trust.
And he did. He did, wholeheartedly, love and trust you — with every fibre of his being. But, every time your hand would trickle down his body, grazing over the painfully obvious bulge that clad him beneath his slacks — he would stop you. The guilt that washed over him far greater than any aching pleasure he so desired.
As time progressed, and your relationship blossomed — that guilt diminished. Grower smaller and smaller with each tentative touch or pleading look you’d give him. Each one cracking the glass dome of restraint he had locked himself in.
You knew tonight you’d finally shattered it.
Michael was sat comfortably next to you on the sofa at Hayvenhurst, a gentle hand resting on the curve of your clothed knee, television blabbering in the background as you watched him. He looked gorgeous in every aspect, but right now — calm, relaxed, content, it took the cake.
“Watch the movie, lovey.” His voice soft and bashful, a blush creeping onto the round of his cheeks after catching you staring.
“I think my view is better.”
Michael breathed out a huff of timid air — your quick-witted flirting always got to him. “Stop. Y’know I’ll get shy.”
You giggled next to him, shuffling closer to his warm body, “I know y’beautiful, Mike.”
He laughed, turning his flushed face away from you in embarrassment, “Can’t say stuff like that.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause..” “‘Cause, what, angelface?”
Michael groaned, finally returning his gaze back onto you, a smile he failed to suppress adorning his ethereal face, “‘Cause y’makin’ me think things that I shouldn’t.”
Ting!
The lustful lightbulb sparked so bright in your brain you almost saw stars.
There was your green light.
“Like what, sweetie.” Your voice now hushed, darker, deeper — an undertone of temptation that had Michael reeling inside, “Tell me.”
“B-Baby.” He was cracking — you were certain. The way he twitched as a calculated hand fell into the tense of his lap, stroking languidly along his clothed thigh, the denim scratching along your manicured nails — paired with a small knit in his eyebrows that made him look so deliciously adorable.
“What’s up, honey?” You teased, face now inches from his own bashful one, “Tell me what’s goin’ on in that pretty lil’ mind of yours.”
Michael whined, deep from his throat, as you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Your mouth moved slowly — trailing to his warm cheek, to the sharp of his jawline, and ending on the smooth of his bare neck. The gentleness of your lips against his burning skin had him fluttering his eyes shut — basking in the sensation. His hands moved subconsciously, once against your knee, now hesitantly holding the curve of your waist as you pressed yourself against him.
“Wanna hear it, Michael.”
He whined again, ever so louder this time, a statement of his timidity, “Baby, please.”
Your lips left his skin to move upwards, meeting his gaze once more. He looked wrecked — torn between honouring his devout innocence or letting his dirty mouth reveal his secrets.
You made the decision for him, clambering over him to settle in his lap, legs either side of his twitching hips. His eyes shot open in surprise.
“Honey, I-“ “It’s okay, sweet boy, I know what you’re thinkin’, anyways. Someone else is doin’ all the talkin’ for ya.”
Michael knew exactly what you were on about.
His embarrassingly obvious hard-on pressed into the softness of your clothed cunt — your skirt ridden up your thighs so perfectly that the cotton of your panties now resided directly on top of the boner he was attempting to hide. Despite never seeing his gracious cock with your own eyes, you knew he was big — every ridge now digging into the slick of your covered folds, hugging his length through his pyjamas bottoms.
“Let me make you feel better, handsome.”
Heaven and hell. That was the only thought that plagued Michael’s mind in this moment. Did he remain pledged to his beliefs, or was the way your drooling cunt wrapped around him, despite the barrier of clothing, enough to make him crack?
With one flex of his grip around your waist, and a breathy whine from your lips — the restraint shattered.
His lips met yours in a feverish connection — sloppy and messy. Spit coating your lips and chin as he forced his eager tongue into your mouth — hands now splayed across the small of your back, pushing you closer. His mouth met yours in a frantic motion, quick and rushed, like he was afraid someone, or something, would stop him at any moment. Your hands slipped up his body, resting on the lean of his shoulders, before sliding into the sweetness of his curls.
He truly crumbled when your hips began moving.
A slow, tantalising rock against him — movements so precise and languid he was certain one harsh buck and he’d fill his boxers right then and there. You had played this game with him before — being in this compromising position wasn’t new to you and Michael. You had once, in a state of pleasure, picked up your speed as you rocked against him, but he quickly shut it down. Telling you, bashfully, he was soon to finish and felt wrong about it — paired with a pout and blush.
This time, though, when your hips picked up a swifter pace — he daren’t stop you.
He’d been agonisingly hard and denied an orgasm for months now — every time he’d nearly get there, the devil on his shoulder telling him to carry on and make a mess of his shorts, the angel on the other side would force him to halt your hips to a stop, apologising at the way you’d whine in disappointment.
Michael let you take what you needed — back arched, hands threaded through his curls as you fucked yourself on his clothed cock, the prettiest noises falling from your swollen lips.
“Y’look so beautiful like this.” Michael revealed quietly, hands following the liquid movements of your hips, eyes trailing over your frame, focusing on your erect nipples poking through your tank-top, the curve of your breasts becoming more visible with each bounce.
With every drag he guided along the ridge of his cock that relentlessly nudged against your puffy clit — your whines got louder, only forcing his cock to throb beneath.
Michael, all too familiarly, held you to a stop.
“Michael.” His name fell past your lips in a desperate plea, the pleasure depleting as you stilled against his crotch.
“I know, I know, sweet girl.” He reassured, leaning up to press a gentle peck to your pouting lips, “M’not stoppin’, don’t worry that pretty head. Just wanna try somethin’.”
He lifted you off his lap with strong precision — settling you down to a place you’d not explored with the temptation between your legs.
His thigh.
“There y’go, pretty.” He whispered, smoothing down the back of your hair in kind strokes, “Go’head, baby, take what’cha you need.”
Your head reeled at the sudden change in his disposition — the once shy boy had magically been transformed into a confident man as the remains of his restraint settled around you.
His new attitude sent a pulsation so strong between your thighs you ground down on his — the tense of his muscle rolling against your nub in the most sensual way. Something you’d never quite felt before.
“Oh, God.” You whined — ignoring the way Michael tched at the name used in vain, not once stopping as he dragged you along his leg, lip caught between his teeth as he ogled at you.
“D’ya feel good, pretty?” Despite his switch in confidence, he was still desperate for your praise, his voice cracking slightly as he met your glossy eyes.
“Mmhm—s-s’good, Mikey.” Your voice hit him right where he needed you most — the place between his twitching legs that had been denied touch for so long.
You didn’t miss the way his hips bucked ever so slightly upwards, chasing a grasp he undeniably craved. Your hands soothed that ache — reaching forward, ever so hesitantly, to palm the bulge in his slacks.
Michael gasped, hand flinching at your side, frantic eyes meeting yours once more, “This okay, angel?” You questioned.
Michael’s lip sucked between his teeth once again, glance flickering from your gorgeous smile to your manicured hands hovering over his crotch. An act he would once deny — but not this time.
He hummed, his voice high-pitched and needy, nodding quickly, “Please, mama.”
A curse fell from your swollen rosebud at the sound of his despair — your hand enveloping around his length beneath his bottoms.
“Oh, my Lord.”
He was done for — head falling back against the plush of the sofa, eyes rolled to his skull as the pleasure washed over him. You wasted no time in pleasing the man beneath you, never once stopping rocking your hips against him, as you slowly stroked him.
The scene was erotic — a dirty array of arousal in the way he bucked his hips unapologetically into your hand, cock throbbing under your palm, as you continued to hump the meat of this thigh, your slick staining the blue denim that had trickled from your soaked panties. It was enough for him — no direct physical contact, but just the right amount of pleasure to satisfy you both.
When your thumb swiped over the oozing head of his cock, Michael lost it. Whining so loud like he didn’t care who heard — the sudden boldness depleting faster than it had come around, now replaced by uncontrollable desperation.
“O-Oh, s-shit,” The curse fell from his mouth before he could suppress it, “G-Gonna cum, lovey.” His hips now fucking up into your hand pathetically, chasing a high he’d been yearning for for so long.
In your own state of blinding pleasure, your only response was a melodic whimper, his tensing thigh hitting the ridge of your clit that had your own orgasm building. Michael, with no prior warning, came with a cry, his milky white release soaking the material of his boxers — the neediest whines of lust filling the room. You soon followed — an exclaim of his name hitting his ears, only furthering his pleasure, as you came undone on his thigh, humping him at such a speed you were almost a blur in his glassy vision.
Michael heaved as he came down from a high that had been lingering on his mind since the moment you met him — an orgasm so strong he was twitching uncontrollably. You stilled against his leg, catching your breath simultaneously, peering down at his fucked out state.
“Thank you, pretty.”
“Ah, ah, I’m not done with you yet.”
Michael swore he died and went to heaven as you dropped to your knees beneath him — eyes hungry and dark, agenda unclear to him.
It was only when you lay your tongue flat against the rough of his jeans, the ones you had once fucked yourself on, licking up your essence that clad the denim, that Michael realised how much of a sex-hungry slut you were. The tang of your seeping arousal lingered on your tongue as you lapped up the mess you’d made on him — glancing up at him through your lashes at his knitted eyebrows and agape mouth. His suspicion that you were a cock-slut only deepening as you retracted your tongue back into your mouth, savouring the taste of yourself, and kissed your way up his leg, getting dangerously close to where he was pulsating.
“Mama, I—“ “Shhh, just gonna clean y’up, baby.”
Michael saw stars when you shoved his pyjama bottoms down his thighs and latched your greedy mouth to the wet spot that clad his boxers, a crackled groan ripping from his throat as you hummed around him. Your lips, settling right against the softening tip of his cock, suckled the cum straight from the cotton — his salty release flooding your tastebuds, colliding with the tang of your own essence in a delicious blaze on your tongue. His hand flew down to cradle your cheek as you lapped up the cum that stained him — his cock throbbing once more as your hands gripped his thighs, jeans now even more wet from your eager mouth.
“Baby—fuck, I-I’m gonn—“ With a strangled cry, another irrepressible spurt of cum shot from him once more, hands tightening ever so slightly around your flushed cheek as you greedily sucked up what he blessed you with — lapping up his second orgasm like you were dying of thirst.
Only when you pulled away, satisfied with your salty refreshment, did Michael’s breathing level out — blissed out expression meeting your devilish one.
Tags: smut, dom!michael, sub!reader, freaky!mike(in other news, grass is green), big dick!mike, creampies, size kink, light exhibitionism, praise kink, spit kink, nipple play, temperature play, pussy eating, blowjobs, possessiveness, hes a gentleman at heart though, etc.
Word Count: 1.1k
Requested: yes/no
Author’s Note: Posting this quickly after the last one as an apology for being gone for months.
Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist
✎ᝰ! A pleasure dom through and through. Sex is always about you. Your pleasure comes first, second, and third. He makes sure you cum countless times before he even thinks about his own release.
✎ᝰ! Absolutely loathes doggy style. It feels too impersonal and unromantic to him; he can’t see your pretty face, can’t kiss your lips, or bury his face in the crook of your neck to suck fresh love marks into your skin. The lack of eye contact actually frustrates him.
✎ᝰ! Makes the filthiest sounds known to mankind. He’s not obnoxiously loud, but he whimpers and groans right against your ear, voice breaking as he tells you no one else has ever made him feel this good, no one else ever could.
✎ᝰ! Does all the “work.” Your only job is to lay there and look pretty for him, taking everything he gives you. Your passivity turns him on beyond belief. He’s forbidden you from riding him or sucking him off because that’s too much effort for his precious girl. You’re meant to be worshipped, not to labor.
✎ᝰ! Michael is high key a freak and not ashamed of it in the slightest.
✎ᝰ! Definitely has a foot fetish, you cannot prove me wrong. He tries to be so discreet about it, but the way he unconsciously focuses on the way your toes curl when he’s deep inside you gives him away each time.
✎ᝰ! He is absolutely infatuated with the way you taste. He could, without exaggeration, spend hours between your warm thighs just making you finish over and over with no breaks in between. He gets easily drunk on your flavour and the sounds you make, his eyes crossing and fluttering from keeping himself on edge while his jaw aches but doesn't dare stop.
✎ᝰ! He rarely subs. The closest it gets is when he’s exhausted but still desperate to take care of you. In those moments he’ll lie back and let you ride him, using his cock like your personal toy while he watches you with hazy, adoring eyes.
✎ᝰ! He is hung, honey. Seven inches when soft, a thick nine when fully erect. Uncut, girthy, and veiny — the kind of cock that makes your mouth water and think the gods may have you as their favorite.
✎ᝰ! Shamelessly whimpers on the phone with you while slowly stroking his leaking cock when he’s on tour. He needs you to hear exactly what you do to him, even from hundreds of miles away.
✎ᝰ! Loves when it gets messy. He goes feral at the sight of a creamy white ring of your arousal frothing around the base of his thick cock, dripping down his heavy balls with each deep slide.
✎ᝰ! Michael is very handsy. He’s constantly groping and squeezing your soft skin, especially your hips, waist, and love handles, like he can’t you’re real.
✎ᝰ! Is obsessed with the fact that your hand can't fully encircle his cock. Strokes his ego just right.
✎ᝰ! He’s very possessive. The idea of a threesome makes him physically gag, yet he can’t stop fantasizing about having both of your holes filled at the same time. What a delicious dilemma he’s trapped himself in.
✎ᝰ! Steals your panties constantly and uses them when you’re not home. He’ll either wrap the silky fabric around his throbbing cock while he strokes himself or press them to his face, inhaling your scent as he fists his weeping length.
✎ᝰ! On the rare occasions he lets you suck his cock, he always has you lying comfortably on the bed while he stands at the edge. He refuses to let your knees touch the hard floor, that’s too degrading for his sweet girl.
✎ᝰ! Ass eater.
✎ᝰ! Whenever he takes you against a wall from behind, he always puts his hand against the surface so you can rest your cheek on it instead of the cold, hard wall, protecting you even while he’s pounding into you.
✎ᝰ! Extremely attentive to your cycles. Knows exactly when you’re ovulating and becomes even more insatiable, fucking you slower and deeper like he’s trying to make it take.
✎ᝰ! Surprisingly into temperature play. Will run an ice cube down your body before following the cold trail with his hot tongue, especially around your nipples and clit. The contrast makes you arch and shiver so prettily for him.
✎ᝰ! Keeps the lights on or at least dim. He needs to see everything.
✎ᝰ! Gets stupidly turned on when you’re shy in public but filthy for him in private. The contrast makes him want to ruin you the second the door closes.
✎ᝰ! Has an odd yet intense fixation on your pulse points. He’ll spend long minutes sucking and licking at your throat and wrists just to feel your heartbeat fluttering against his tongue.
✎ᝰ! Gets painfully hard just from watching you get dressed in the morning. The way you hook your bra, slide panties up your thighs, or bend over to grab something makes him groan low in his throat. Sometimes he can’t resist pulling you back into bed before you even finish.
✎ᝰ! Obsessed with your nipples. Spends ages teasing them with his tongue, sucking them into his mouth until they’re swollen and sensitive, gently biting just to hear that sharp little gasp you make.
✎ᝰ! Adores when you wear nothing but jewelry in bed, especially the ones he bought you. The way they sparkle and jingle against your skin while he drives into you is pure art to him.
List of some of his kinks/fetishes:
✎ᝰ! Creampies: He loves filling you up to the absolute brim with his thick, sticky seed. The feeling of his tip kissing pressing against your cervix while he paints the tight sensitive ring white drives him wild. He cums so much that it always leaks out of your spent pussy no matter how deep he buries it.
✎ᝰ! Size kink (not about body size): he is obsessed with the whole “oh, no it's not gonna fit” thing. He loves the slow, careful process of stretching you open on his fingers first, turning you into a leaky, nonverbal mess long before he finally pushes the fat tip of his length inside you. Nothing gets him harder than watching you struggle to take all of him, reduced to a dumb little thing as he fucks you like you were made for him.
✎ᝰ! Light exhibitionism: Loves filming and taking photos of you two while making love, capturing every detail. He secretly fantasizes about someone finding them and seeing exactly how well he can ruin you.
✎ᝰ! Praise kink: Mostly centered on you. He’s always whispering praise about how well you’re taking him, how gorgeous you look all spread open and dripping for him, how perfectly you squeeze around him.
✎ᝰ! Spit kink: He enjoys both giving and receiving. He loves catching you off guard in non-sexual moments. Pulling you into a dim corner of a museum and telling you to be a good girl and open your mouth for him just to watch you blush. On extremely rare submissive nights, he’ll beg so prettily for you to spit in his mouth.
synopsis: reader gives jaafar a handjob (and edges him :p)
cw: smut, sub!jaafar, maybe switch!jaafar if u squint?, edging, handjob, teasing
ib: @prettyangeliczz
guys this is like my first ever post/fic so like...be nice pls
rain pattered softly against the apartment windows while the tv played quietly in the background, long forgotten by now.
you were sprawled on top of jaafar on the couch, your head resting against his chest while one of his arms stayed wrapped loosely around your waist. his other hand traced absentminded patterns up and down your back, fingertips warm through the thin fabric of your white tank top.
he looked so good like this.
grey sweats hung low on his hips, the fabric bunched slightly where your legs tangled with his. his black shirt clung to him just enough to outline the shape of his arms and shoulders, sleeves stretched snug around his biceps every time he shifted beneath you.
your fingers drew lazy circles against the middle of his chest while you looked up at him quietly, observing his features.
the tiny mole above his eyebrow.
his lashes resting low against his cheeks every time he blinked sleepily.
the curve of his jaw.
his lips.
god, his lips.
jaafar looked relaxed in a way he only ever did around you. hair messy, cheeks slightly flushed from the warmth of the apartment, eyes half-lidded while he played with the hem of your tank top absentmindedly.
you didn’t even realize how long you’d been staring until his gaze finally dropped to yours.
a slow smile pulled at his mouth.
“you’re staring.”
you hummed softly, still looking at him. “you’re pretty.”
his entire face changed immediately.
a blush spread across his cheeks so fast it almost made you laugh, and he let out a quiet groan before dropping his head back dramatically against the couch cushion.
“stop.”
“it’s true.”
“you say it like every day.”
“‘cause every day i look at you and think ‘he’s so pretty.’”
“baby,” he mumbled, embarrassed now, one hand sliding up to cover part of his face.
you grinned and pulled his hand away gently, intertwining your fingers with his before leaning up to kiss him.
it started soft.
slow.
jaafar kissed you like he was sleepy and addicted to you at the same time, lips warm and lingering against yours while his grip tightened unconsciously at your waist. your hand slid higher up his chest, fingertips brushing over the fabric stretched across him, while your other hand settled along his jaw and neck.
his hands moved instinctively up your back, fingertips pressing into your skin beneath your tank top. the other drifted lower, resting just above your ass while he kissed you deeper, slower.
needier.
you shifted slightly closer against him without thinking.
jaafar inhaled sharply.
the movement dragged you right against him through the fabric of both your sweats, and a low groan slipped from his throat before he could stop it.
your lips curved instantly against his.
the second he realized the sound he made, his cheeks burned again. he let out a breathy laugh under his breath and buried his face against your shoulder like he was suddenly shy about how affected he’d gotten.
“you okay?” you teased softly.
“no,” he muttered into your skin.
you laughed quietly, fingers slipping into his curls again. you smiled softly, brushing your nose against his temple. “you’re cute.”
he lifted his head just enough to look at you again, all flushed cheeks and messy curls and swollen lips from kissing you. he looked completely wrecked already.
just from this.
your thumb brushed lightly over his jaw while you watched his expression soften under your touch.
“don’t start,” he murmured, though there was no real complaint behind it.
his eyes dropped immediately to your lips.
then he kissed you.
hard.
the sound you made got swallowed by his mouth as his hands slid firmly to your hips, pulling you down against him again. your bodies fit together too perfectly like this, warm and tangled together on the couch.
you shifted experimentally against him.
jaafar groaned low into the kiss.
his grip tightened instinctively, fingers digging into your hips while he guided your movements without even thinking about it now. slow at first. then, a little rougher when another soft moan slipped from your mouth.
“fuck,” he breathed quietly against your lips.
you could already feel how affected he was through the fabric of his sweats. the way he reacted to every little thing you did was addictive.
your kisses drifted from his mouth to his jaw, then lower to his neck while he tipped his head back against the couch for you. a shaky breath left him the second your lips brushed against the sensitive skin there.
his hands stayed locked on your hips, still guiding you against him steadily while soft sounds kept slipping from both of you.
“baby,” he whispered, voice rough now.
you hummed innocently against his neck before kissing lower, down the center of his chest. your fingers trailed after your lips slowly, dragging over the fabric stretched across his stomach and pushing his shirt up slightly, before settling near the waistband of his sweats.
jaafar’s stomach tensed beneath your touch.
his eyes stayed glued to you while you toyed with the edge of the waistband, fingertips dipping the fabric down. his black boxers did very little to hide the outline straining beneath them, the dark fabric already damp where precum had started to leak through.
it was truly unfair.
jaafar already had the face, the body, the personality– and was this big too.
thick, flushed, fully hard beneath the fabric, and twitching slightly when your hand draws close.
a soft curse slipped under his breath.
you swallowed hard.
god, he was so fucking fine.
you peeled his boxers down next, trying to keep your expression composed even while your stomach tightened at the sight of him. the second the fabric cleared him completely, his dick sprang free against his stomach, twitching once as more precum gathered at the tip.
your hand wrapped around him gently.
the hiss he let out made heat rush straight between your legs.
you stroked him once.
twice.
then stopped.
“baby,” Jaafar groaned, head tipping back against the couch before his eyes dropped to your hand again.
you ignored him entirely and started moving again, slower this time. deliberate. your hand barely twisted as you stroked him, just enough pressure to make his breathing start breaking apart.
his hips pushed forward unconsciously, trying to chase more friction.
you let go.
his eyes snapped shut.
“you’re killing me,” he breathed out, voice rough and wrecked in a way that made your stomach flip.
you smiled sweetly. “aw, baby. I’m sorry.”
jaafar let out a short, strained laugh under his breath at your tone, one hand dragging down his face before falling back limply on the cushion below him.
you were going to be the death of him.
you wrapped your hand around him again before he could say anything else, stroking him a little faster this time. a soft sigh slipped from him instantly, his lips parting while his head fell back.
“you’re so hard, j,” you teased quietly.
his eyes snap to yours, fully aware now that you were teasing him on purpose.
usually, he was the one doing this to you– teasing you until you were squirming in his lap, until you were whining into his neck and begging him for more while he took his sweet time giving it to you. and when he finally fucked you, he never let up until you were completely gone for him.
now the roles were reversed.
you could practically see the moment he started connecting the dots.
in all honesty, you hadn’t even planned on teasing him like this. but the way he reacted to every little thing you did kept giving you new ideas, making you improvise as you went.
jaafar ignored the comment at first, jaw tightening slightly like he was trying not to give you the satisfaction.
so naturally, you pushed further.
as your hand slid back up his cock, your thumb brushed slowly over the slit at the tip.
jaafar’s hips jerked sharply off the couch, and a whine slipped out before he could stop it.
the sound punched straight through you.
his head fell back against the couch, throat exposed, chest rising unevenly, while both hands gripped tightly onto the cushion beneath him. you watched his jaw flex, watched the muscles in his stomach tense every single time your thumb brushed over that sensitive spot again.
and every single time, he reacted just as hard.
a sharp inhale.
a curse muttered beneath his breath.
his fingered drumming once against the cushion before curling tighter into it again.
his dick was twitching harder in your hand, leaking steadily enough that your strokes had turned slick.
his moans had also become more consistent.
a telltale sign he was getting close.
you brought your other hand up slowly, twisting both hands around him now as you stroked him more firmly.
jaafar bit down hard on his lower lip, clearly trying to contain the noises leaving him and failing miserably.
the second his hips started lifting more insistently into your hands, and his grip tightened sharply against the couch cushion, muscles flexing beneath your touch–
you let go again.
jaafar whined, hips jerking helplessly upward as he searched for your hands again. for friction. for anything
“no, no, no–”
his hands flew down instinctively, reaching for himself, and you caught his wrists before he could touch himself properly, laughing softly at his genuinely offended look that flashed across his face.
“baby,” he groaned, frustrated now.
you shifted quickly before he could recover, moving until you were straddling his hips beneath him to keep him from bucking upward properly.
jaafar dropped his head back against the couch with a curse, chest heaving while his hands landed uselessly at your waist instead.
“you’re mean,” he muttered breathlessly.
you tried to hold back your smile for maybe half a second before leaning down toward him, peppering soft apologetic kisses across his face. the corner of his mouth. his cheek. the little mole above his eyebrow. his jaw.
jaafar exhaled shakily through his nose at that, eyes fluttering shut for a second while his hands settled more firmly against your body.
“there,” you whispered against his skin. “better?”
his head shook weakly enough to make you laugh quietly.
your hand slid back down him, fingers wrapping around him again while your lips hovered near his. his dick twitching in your hand as another strained breath left him.
one hand slid up the outside of your thigh before settling firmly on your ass, squeezing once through the fabric of your sweats. the other slipped beneath your tank top, warm palm spreading against your bare skin before moving higher until he was cradling your chest in his hand.
you sighed softly at the touch, the sound mixing with the uneven breaths leaving jaafar’s mouth as you continued stroking him.
he was unraveling faster now.
the teasing from earlier had left him sensitive enough that every movement pulled a reaction from him immediately. his groans had turned rough and consistent, slipping out every few seconds while his head rested back against the couch.
he breathed out your name shakily.
your hand twisted slightly around him again and jaafar cursed under his breath, grip tightening hard enough against your body to almost keep you still. his stomach flexed beneath you while his hips fought the urge to jerk upward again.
“so sensitive now,” you murmured teasingly.
“it’s your fault,” he shot back instantly, though the words came out strained around another groan.
you smiled against his jaw, still stroking him steadily while his breathing grew more uneven by the second. his dick kept twitching in your hand, leaking enough now that your strokes had turned slick and easy.
jaafar’s composure was hanging by a thread.
you could tell by the way his thighs kept tensing beneath you.
by the way his fingers dug into your skin every few seconds.
by the fact that he’d stopped trying to hide his noises entirely.
“fuck, baby,” he breathed, his eyes squeezed shut.
then your thumb brushed over the tip again.
his body jerked.
a low sound tore from him as his grip tightened sharply on your ass, the hand beneath your tank top flexing against your chest at the same time.
“oh my god,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut. “don’t do that—”
you did it again anyway.
and again.
and again.
a higher moan slipped out of him this time, his head dropping back down against your shoulder as he shuddered into you. the sound alone sent heat rushing straight through you, your stomach tightening at how completely wrecked he sounded.
your hand picked up the pace slightly, enough to make jaafar’s hips start jerking upward again before you pulled away all at once.
his entire body jolted.
“baby–” the word came out broken.
jaafar’s hands tightened desperately against you while his breathing fell apart completely, little tremors running through him from how close he’d been.
“please,” he breathed, voice rough and wrecked. “please, baby, let me cum,”
“i was so fucking close,” he whined, “fuck, please.”
and how were you supposed to deny him after that?
You leaned down to kiss him softly, and jaafar melted into it instantly, kissing you back like he needed it. your hand wrapped around him again, stroking him steadily this time.
he broke the kiss with a moan, eyes fluttering shut while his brows furrowed deeply.
“you’re doing so good, jaafar,” you whispered against his mouth.
a shaky breath left him.
“c’mon, baby. you wanna cum, don’t you?”
he nodded quickly, too needy to pretend otherwise.
“look at me.”
his eyes opened slowly, gaze locking onto yours before drifting lower, watching where your hand moved against him.
the sight alone dragged another helpless sound from him.
his hips stuttered upward into your hand while his grip tightened hard against your waist.
“don’t stop,” he breathed quickly. “don’t stop, don’t–”
you kept your pace steady, watching him come apart beneath you piece by piece, broken curses slipping from him between uneven breaths.
“fuck–fuck, baby,” he whimpered. his entire body tensed suddenly, hands gripping you tighter as he buried his face against your shoulder with a low groan.
you smiled softly, leaning down to kiss his cheek while he caught his breath shakily against your skin.
“such a pretty boy,” you murmured
jaafar let out another shaky breath, still breathing hard as you started shifting off him.
his hands gripped your hips immediately.
you looked back at him and your stomach dropped.
the wrecked look on his face was gone now. he still looked flushed and messy, but his eyes–
his eyes had sharpened, fixed on you with that look that made heat crawl up your spine instantly.
he pulled you back against him.
“you had your fun?” he asked quietly.
the calmness in his voice was terrifying.
a slow small smile tugged at his mouth when you didn’t answer right away.
“yeah,” he murmured. “that’s what i thought.”
before you could say anything, he stood, lifting you with him effortlessly. a surprised gasp left you as your legs wrapped around his waist automatically.
jaafar’s hand slid up your thigh as he carried you toward the bedroom.
yeah. you were done for.
───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───
hi lol .. this was kinda fun to write so i think i might start writing more !
lmk if this stinks or if u have any reqs or anything :DD
By the time Jaafar gets you upstairs, you’re basically attached to him. One arm around his neck.
The other holding absolutely nothing important.Your missing heel situation has still not been resolved. “Baby,” Jaafar laughs softly while unlocking the apartment, “where's your other shoe at?” You blink slowly. Then gasp. “Oh my days.”
“What?”
“I had two.” He starts laughing immediately. Like fully laughing now, shoulders shaking while you stare at him offended. “Y-you’re not helping.”
“You losin’ pieces of your outfit outside and I’m the problem?”
“You’re supposed to support me emotionally.”
“I am supportin’ you emotionally.”
“No, you’re bein’ mean.” Jaafar finally gets the door open and the second you step inside, you immediately grab onto him with both arms again, very clingy...He almost stumbles backward from the force of it. “Damn,” he laughs. “Missed me that bad?”
“Yes.” The answer comes so fast he actually pauses. Then his whole expression melts.
“Aw my sweet girl.” You shake your head against his chest dramatically. “Don’t leave.”
“I’m literally right here.”
“No but like…just don't.”Jaafar has to bite his lip to stop laughing again.You look up at him suddenly with wide sleepy eyes.“You’re so pretty.”
“Oh? am i?.” He Softly laughs. “No seriously.” Your hands squish his cheeks together. “Like stupid pretty. t-that's not okay.”
“Stupid pretty?” he says confused. “Mhm.” He kisses your forehead softly while you continue staring at him.
Drunk you was dangerously affectionate. And Jaafar loved every second of it. “You need water first,” he says gently.
“No! No.”
“You absolutely do.”
“Noooo,” you whine, following him into the kitchen attached to him. “Kiss me first.”
“Baby—”
“Pleaseeee.”Jaafar turns around immediately, smiling helplessly before kissing you softly. And immediately you kiss him back way too hard. Missing his mouth once because you’re laughing.
Jaafar laughs against your lips too, hands steadying your waist while you keep kissing him between giggles. “There she go,” he murmurs softly. “Shh..N-Nooo talking.”
“M’not talkin’.”
“You literally are.” You kiss him again before he can defend himself. And again, And again. Jaafar eventually starts laughing into your mouth because you genuinely won’t stop. “Baby,” he says breathlessly between kisses, “lemme breathe.”
“Nooo.”
“That’s so selfish.”
“You’reee mineee.” The way you say it almost visibly affects him. His smile softens instantly. “Yeah?” he murmurs quietly.
“Mmhmm.” You kiss the corner of his mouth this time, then his jaw, then somewhere near his cheek because your aim is questionable now. Jaafar’s holding your waist tighter now just to keep you standing. “You drunk-drunk,” he whispers affectionately. “I’m in love-love.”
“That too.” You bury your face dramatically into his neck afterward. And immediately start kissing there too. Little sleepy kisses all over his skin while Jaafar just stands there smiling like an idiot.
“Baby,” he laughs quietly, “what are you doing?”
“Lovin’ youuu.” That one hits him directly in the chest. You can tell too because suddenly Jaafar gets quieter. His hands slide warmly up your back while he presses one kiss into your hair. “My sweet girl.. you need some sleep,” he murmurs. You hum happily against his neck, still refusing to let go of him for even one second.
When he tries reaching for the water bottle again, you tighten your grip immediately. “No.”
“You holding me hostage now?”
“Yes.”
“That’s crazy.”
“You like it.” True..Very true, Jaafar finally gives up on pretending he needs space and just lifts you onto the kitchen counter instead. You immediately pull him closer again between your knees. “There,” you mumble proudly. “Now stay.”
“Yes ma’am.” You smile dreamily before kissing him again slower this time.
Still smiling into it. Jaafar kisses you back gently, one hand resting against your thigh while the other brushes hair away from your face.
And Oh Goodness-
he looks at you so softly when you’re like this. Like being loved by you is his favorite thing that’s ever happened to him. “You know what?” you whisper suddenly. “What?”
“I’d cry if you..cry.” Jaafar stares at you for one second. Then bursts into laughter so hard he nearly folds in half.“That’s your declaration of love?”
“It’s serious!” You stare. “Oh my baby..”
“You can’t cry.” You pout. “I’ll do my best.” You squint suspiciously. “Promise me.”
“I promise.” Satisfied, you nod once, Then immediately kiss him again because apparently that’s the solution to everything tonight.
it was no secret that you had michael wrapped up around your finger. the closer you got to him, the quieter he became, saving it all for your little ears only.
"doesn't it look so gorgeous?" you asked him dangerously soft before nipping at his earlobe. he tried to nod his head, a heavy breath escaping his nostrils while he clamped his two lips together.
he had gifted you the daintiest cartier bracelet. rows of sparkly diamonds encrusted each link, reflecting light whenever your wrist flicked.
you slowly pumped your hand up and down, massaging his entire length with perfectly practiced pressure. the sight of his precum dripping onto the polished gems was enough to make your mouth water. it was so pretty.
michael's hand stuttered as he rubbed at your glossed up leg. you had one crossed over the other as you sat beside him, the fat of your ass falling out from underneath your skirt.
with another stroke, michael turned to bury his head in your neck. he desperately kissed at your perfumed skin, loving how soft you felt against his tongue. he could feel your thumb wipe at the opening on his tip, and he let out a whimper that muffled into you.
your thighs squeezed tighter together involuntarily, the sound of his whines settling low in your stomach.
"god," he whimpered again, lips shaking against you, "y'gonna kill me ma."
you shushed him quietly, guiding his jaw with the back of your finger so his lips could meet yours, the kiss careful and sloppy all at once. he grunted into your mouth as he felt your hand pick up pace.
"don't stop, d-don't― please," he hurriedly stumbled into your plump lips. you shook your head, dragging your lips against his as he spoke. at the same time you reassured him, "m'not baby, i swear."
content: It's basically just a lot of smut (so MDNI) - jealousy, orgasm denial, mock sympathy, praising, teasing, overstimulating, Michael being a soft dom, kissing, fingering, eating you out, fucking
summary: Michael grows increasingly jealous during a public event after noticing another man’s attention toward you. The tension builds on the drive home and finally breaks once you’re alone, leading to a private confrontation that reveals his possessive feelings and deep emotional attachment to you.
also u can imagine any of mjs eras. though i think his mature era matches this well
word count: 5000
Michael had been quieter than usual all day. At the charity event, no one else would have noticed. He smiled when expected, charmed every guest effortlessly, and carried every conversation with practiced ease.
But you knew him too well.
You noticed the tension in his jaw whenever a certain guest lingered too long beside you. The way his hand kept finding your waist throughout the evening, his fingers pressing just a little harder each time.
By the drive home, the tension was impossible to ignore.
“You’ve been quiet,” you said softly. “Have I?” The calmness in his tone only deepened your suspicion. After a long silence, he finally glanced your way.
“You seemed to enjoy yourself tonight.” The quiet comment made your stomach tighten. He was jealous. And the realization sent heat through you. The rest of the drive passed in silence.
By the time you reached home, your pulse was already racing. He said nothing as he led you upstairs.
Once inside the bedroom, he quietly shut the door. You barely made it two steps before his hand caught your wrist. Firm, certain.
The pull turned you toward him. Michael said nothing at first. He only looked at you. And whatever restraint he'd been holding onto all evening was gone.
"What was his name?" The question was low, controlled. Your brows drew together. "What?"
"The man you spent half the evening smiling at." His fingers tightened slightly around your wrist. "What is his name?" Realization bloomed. And before you could answer, Michael stepped closer. Close enough to heat roll off him. "You seemed very interested in whatever he had to say."
His hand slid to your waist, fingers spreading possessively over your side. Your breath hitched, and Michael noticed. His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before lifting back to your eyes.
"Tell me." His thumb pressed into your waist. "Was I supposed to enjoy watching that?" The quiet jealousy in his voice sent heat rushing through you.
"Michael, I was just being polite." A humorless smile touched his lips. "Were you?"
His hand moved higher, settling at the back of your neck, his fingers threading lightly into your hair. Not rough, but possessive enough to make your pulse jump.
"Because from where I was standing," he murmured, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, "it looked like he had your full attention."
His forehead brushed yours. "And all night, I've been thinking about reminding you exactly who you belong to." The words sent heat through your body.
His gaze dropped to your lips. "Tell me I'm wrong," he whispered, his mouth brushing yours with every word. "Tell me you didn't notice what you were doing to me."
You opened your mouth to answer.
But before you could, Michael kissed you. Deeply, possessively. The force of it stole your breath instantly.
His hand tightened in your hair while the other held your waist firmly against him, leaving no space between your bodies. The kiss was hungry, claiming, full of all the tension he'd buried behind silence for hours. Heat rushed through you so fast your knees nearly gave out. When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard.
Michael’s dark gaze lingered on your flushed face, taking in your parted lips and dazed expression. "God, you look so beautiful like this."
His fingers slid slowly along the back of your neck before his lips brushed softly against your cheek, then lower to your jaw.
"You made me spend all night wondering how quickly I could make you forget he ever had your attention," he whispered against your ear. He bit the spot right below your ear lightly, then kissed it. A sound of pleasure escaped your lips.
And a shiver ran through you. Michael noticed instantly. A quiet hum of approval vibrated against your skin as his mouth moved to your neck, leaving slow, deliberate kisses that made your breath catch.
“That's right,” he murmured. “Let me hear it.” You reached for him instinctively, clutching at his shirt.
He kissed lower, lingering just long enough to leave marks.
His hand tightened at the small of your back as he lifted his head to meet your gaze. "Look at me."
The quiet command made your breath catch. Before you could respond, his mouth claimed yours again - harder this time, hungrier.
His hand slid into your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wanted as he guided you backward. You barely realized he was moving you until the backs of your legs hit the edge of the bed. A startled gasp escaped you.
Michael swallowed the sound with a low groan, deepening the kiss. "Careful," he murmured roughly. His hand pressed more firmly at your back. And when your knees finally gave out, you sank onto the mattress.
Michael followed instantly, one hand braced beside your head while the other stayed firm at your waist, holding you exactly where he wanted you.
For a moment, he simply hovered over you. Breathing hard.
His dark gaze moved slowly over your flushed face, your parted lips, the hickeys already blooming along your neck. "So pretty all marked up for me." A rush of heat flooded your face. "But it's not enough."
His hand slid slowly down your side as he lowered himself over you, his lips trailing soft kisses down your throat, over your collarbone, lower and lower until they reached the bare skin of your stomach. The touch made your breath hitch. His fingers hooked beneath the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly as his mouth followed the newly exposed skin. Each kiss was slow, soft. Like he was taking his time memorizing every inch of you. When his lips reached the spot just below your bra, he finally pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside.
For a moment, he simply looked at you. His dark gaze lingered over your body with quiet hunger. Then his mouth found your chest. The first kisses were soft. Almost teasing. Gentle brushes of his lips that made your pulse race with anticipation. But then they deepened. Lingering longer. Pressing harder. Until warmth bloomed across your skin and you knew he was leaving marks there too.
A quiet sound escaped your lips. Michael paused. "Tell me you love me." The words were low. Not a command, a need. As if after everything he'd felt tonight, he needed to hear it. His mouth returned to your skin, trailing another lingering kiss as he waited.
"I love you," you breathed, your voice shaky. He went still. Then slowly lifted his head. His eyes locked onto yours. "You love who?" The question sent your heart racing. He rose over you, one hand lifting to cradle your jaw. His fingers tightened just enough to keep your attention fixed on him.
"And look at me with those pretty eyes when you say it." Your breath caught. The intensity in his gaze made your pulse pound. "I love you, Michael." For a moment, he simply stared at you. And something in his expression softened. The tension that had been simmering in him all evening finally eased, replaced by something deeper. Something almost vulnerable. His thumb brushed gently across your cheek. A quiet exhale left him, almost like relief. Then he leaned down until his lips barely brushed yours.
"I love you more, Y/N." The whisper was soft. And then he kissed you on the lips again. Slowly this time. Deeply. Like he was trying to say everything he didn't know how to put into words.
His hand reached your chest, kissing you as he squeezed it possessively. Then his hand slowly slid down, all the way from your boobs to the top of your jeans. Without breaking eye contact, he unfastened them, impatience creeping into the motion as he slipped his hand beneath the fabric. Your breathing gets heavier as his fingers find your entrance through your drenched panties, slowly feeling it out. "So wet for me already?"
Your body went still for a moment, breath catching as the closeness of him overwhelmed you. It wasn’t just what he was doing in your pants - it was the way he was looking at you, his eyes full of love and lust for you. Hungry for you and only you. "Michael…" you whispered in need for more, your hands instinctively finding his wrists - not to stop him, but to anchor yourself. "You want more? So greedy." he says teasingly.
His long fingers started to rub you through your panties. Massaging your clit slowly, using enough pressure to make you hitch. Soft moans escaped against his lips, and Michael pulled back just enough to watch your face. His gaze traced every detail - the way your lashes fluttered, the way your lips parted, the way your breathing grew uneven beneath his touch. He looked almost fascinated by it, like he was savoring the sight of how easily he could undo you. He wanted to know how good he was making you feel as his hand slid under your panties, touching your clit directly now. He watched your reactions closely.
You can't help but moan softly and shutter under his touch. A quiet chuckle escaped him while looking at you with that dazed, lustful look. "That's right." he murmured, his index and middle finger moving in circles. "I bet he couldn't make you look like this even if he tried."
His two fingers started to move dangerously close to your entrance. "All that talking he did, all that trying to get your attention…" His voice dropped lower, his fingers slowing almost teasingly. "And still, this is who you’re getting off to tonight."
"Michael-" the protest barely left your lips before your words turned into a sharp gasp as he slid his two fingers inside you. He pushed them all the way in, to the deep sweet spot. Your whole body jolted, your fingers instinctively tightening around his wrist as your head tipped back for a second. Heat rushed to your face instantly, embarrassment and pleasure tangling together as the sound that escaped you was far louder than you meant it to be.
"What is it?" he asked softly, almost sweetly. "Too much for you?" The sympathy in his tone was obviously fake - teasing, amused, and somehow even more overwhelming because of how gently he said it.
Before you could force out a response, his fingers inside you started to move.
In and out.
Slowly at first, but still applying pressure in all the right places. You felt so weak under his touch, like you were melting into it.
His fingers gradually picked up speed. "And how about this?" His fingers slid deeper inside you, your walls desperately clenching around his long fingers as they filled you. The pleasure began to build deep within your body.
"Don't stop," you whimpered breathlessly.
Michael could feel the way you clenched around him, the tremble running through your body, how completely lost you were in the pleasure. Everything coming from you was real, raw, and he loved seeing this side of you.
The friction inside you was becoming too much. You could feel your breaking point getting closer.
"Michael, I-"
He noticed every sign your body gave him, every small indication that your orgasm was approaching.
"No. Don’t come until I say so, okay, honey?" He spoke in a soft, sweet voice just inches from your face.
Then he kissed your forehead gently as he sped up his pace again, making it even harder for you to hold on—to obey him.
And he knew exactly what he was doing. He loved watching you struggle beneath the pleasure. Your moans grew louder, your breathing uneven as he worked his fingers inside you without mercy.
"Michael, I can't… I can't hold it," you finally breathed out.
"Just be a good girl and hold it for me, okay?" Again, that soft voice. The contrast between his tone and what he was doing made you clench even harder.
"But I really can't anymore, I-"
Before you could finish, he interrupted. "You can. You’re my sweet girl, right? So just listen to me."
His other hand rested against your lower stomach, applying light pressure that only intensified the pleasure.
Your body felt completely out of control, but you still tried your best, not wanting to disappoint him.
But it was too much. You couldn't do it anymore. Your orgasm was dangerously close. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, trying weakly to slow him down.
He noticed immediately - in your moans, in the way your grip tightened, in the trembling that had taken over your body.
You were about to come. He couldn't let that happen. So he slowed his movements, his lips still pressed to your forehead. "Shh, shh. Not yet, my angel. I told you to wait, didn't I?" he whispered against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.
Your hips moved subconsciously against his fingers, your body craving more.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't hold it-"
He interrupted you again, pressing his thumb gently to your lips before sliding it downward.
"Shh, baby. It's okay. I know it's hard, angel. But you have to listen to me, understand?"
His other hand gripped your waist, squeezing firmly. You nodded, unable to look away from him, from the intense eye fucking situation you had going on now.
He leaned closer to your ear. "Good," he whispered. Then he leaned back, his hands moving to your jeans and slowly pulling them off.
After that, he positioned himself between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer to him.
"Let me see." His gaze dropped to where your panties still clung to you. The damp fabric stuck to your skin, outlining every detail and making your breath hitch under the intensity of his stare.
"So wet," he murmured to himself, his voice low with satisfaction.
His eyes lingered there for a moment before lifting back to your face. "Were you this wet when you were talking to him earlier, hm?" He waited for your answer, his expression dark and expectant.
"No…" At your response, Michael looked at you in a way that said everything without needing words. His gaze alone made it clear - only he could make you feel this good. And deep down, you knew he was right. Nothing compared to the way he touched you, the way he made you feel.
"Thought so," he said quietly. His eyes dropped back between your legs, drawn once again to the damp fabric.
Then he leaned closer. His lips brushed against your inner thigh, pressing soft, delicate kisses against your skin. At first, they were light - almost teasing.
But slowly they grew deeper, firmer, more deliberate. He was marking you again.
The closeness of his mouth, the heat of his breath, the way he stayed just near enough without giving you what you wanted most - it made patience nearly impossible.
Then he moved even closer to your panties. His nose hovered just above the soaked fabric, his breath warm against you.
Still not touching. Not yet.
Your hips shifted forward instinctively, desperate for more. A slow smile spread across his lips against your skin. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew exactly what he was making you feel.
"So impatient," he murmured, his smile widening as his fingers tightened slightly against your hips. "You really need my touch that badly?"
"I need you so bad, Michael. Please." The desperation in your voice made something dark flicker in his expression.
Without another word, his lips caught the thin fabric between his teeth, slowly tugging your panties down while keeping eye contact with you. The motion was deliberate, torturously slow, as though he wanted to savor every second of your anticipation.
When the fabric finally slipped away, his eyes lingered to the wet mess of a pussy. The hunger in his gaze made heat rush through your entire body. "Look at you," he said softly almost in awe, "so pretty and wet for me."
Then he leaned in, kissing your clit. The first kiss was featherlight, barely there, just enough to make your breath hitch. Then another. And another. Each one lingered longer than the last, his mouth teasing you with maddening precision. You trembled beneath him.
He glanced up, watching your face carefully, studying every reaction - the way your lips parted, the way your chest rose and fell faster, the way your body instinctively tried to move closer.
Satisfied, he let his tongue drag slowly upward, the warmth of it sending a sharp shiver through you. A helpless moan escaped your lips. Michael's eyes darkened. He repeated the motion, slower this time, deliberate enough to make every nerve ending light up.
Then his attention narrowed to only your clit, his focus sharpening as he became more precise, more intentional, every movement designed to draw another sound from you. Your fingers tangled in his hair near the nape of his neck. Your hips rolled forward instinctively.
A quiet chuckle vibrated against your skin. "Go on," he murmured. "If you need it that badly, take what you want."
He held still, his tongue waiting, forcing you to move against him. The desperation burning through you made your body obey before your mind could think. You moved your hips against his tongue carefully at first, then faster, chasing the friction, the pressure, the relief he was letting you earn.
Michael watched with dark satisfaction, his grip tightening. Seeing you so undone, so willing, pushed him past restraint. A low groan escaped him.
Before you could adjust, his hands locked firmly against your hips, holding you still. "Enough."
And then he took control again. The sudden intensity stole the breath from your lungs. His mouth moved with renewed purpose, no longer teasing, no longer patient.
The pressure built rapidly, wave after wave crashing through you until your body was trembling uncontrollably. He puts his fingers inside you again, the added sensation making your entire body tense. You were so close. "Michael-" your voice broke. "Please... can I-" His only answer was a low murmur against your skin. "No." The single word sent a shudder through you. "Hold it for me."
His voice was soft, almost affectionate, but his grip made it clear he expected obedience. And somehow, that only made the ache burning inside you even worse.
You clenched hard, every muscle straining to obey, while Michael looked up at you with quiet amusement. "That's it," he whispered. "Show me how good you can be."
This went on for another moment, until you couldn't take it anymore. Only one movement away from your release, your fingers tightened in his hair.
That was his signal to stop. "Not yet, sweetheart."
He pressed a few more soft kisses against your skin before lifting his head and turning toward you. Then he shifted, his crotch now close to your face.
"Come here," he murmured. "I want to show you what you do to me." Slowly, he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down. Even through the fabric of his underwear, the outline of his erection was impossible to miss.
Huge. Your breath caught. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled it down, revealing his hard, throbbing dick springing free right in front of you.
"See that?" Your eyes lingered on him, filled with hunger. "That's all you, baby." His hand moved to your chin, tilting your face up slightly. "Open that mouth for me." The tip brushed softly against your lips. "C'mon," he said, his voice low and coaxing. "Taste it."
You obeyed immediately, parting your lips and taking him into your mouth. Slowly at first. His breathing hitched. "Look up at me." You lifted your eyes to his, and the moment your gaze locked with his, a dark smile spread across his face. "Good girl."
His hand moved to your hair, gently patting your head before threading his fingers through it. Encouraged by his praise, you pushed yourself further, taking him deeper and using your throat. A moan escaped him. "Fuck..."
His grip tightened slightly. "You’re doing so well, angel." His hand stayed resting on your head, guiding your movements as you bobbed slowly. Each time his tip brushed the back of your throat, his entire body reacted - the sharp intake of breath, the tension in his muscles, the way his eyes fluttered for a second. You loved watching him lose control. "That's it, my love," he breathed shakily. "Just a little more."
You took him deeper again, and this time his restraint slipped. His hand pressed more firmly against the back of your head, holding you there for a moment. A rough moan tore from his throat. "Such a good girl," he groaned, his voice uneven. "Taking me so well." Then, just as your lungs began to burn, he released his hold and let you pull back.
“Breathe,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek as he watched you catch your breath.
He tapped your cheek lightly with his palm, a smirk playing on his lips. "So slutty for me."
Then he positioned himself between your legs, his heavy length resting against your pussy. A shaky breath escaped your lips. "You want this?" he asked, his eyes locked onto yours.
"Yes," you breathed. "Please. I need it inside me." His own breath caught sharply at your words.
"What am I supposed to do with you?" he murmured, lightly dragging himself against you before giving a teasing slap against your pussy.
"I'll make you come around my cock until you can't take it anymore."
The promise was whispered right against your ear, his voice low and dangerous as he slowly teased your entrance with the tip.
And then, finally, he pushed inside.
His eyes never left your face as he eased himself in, watching every reaction.
A loud moan escaped you. "That's right, baby," he murmured. "Let it out. Let me hear you."
He kept going until he was fully seated inside you, filling you completely.
The stretch made your entire body tense.
He was so big, forcing you to adjust to every inch, leaving you breathless as he buried himself deep inside. Your hips shifted instinctively as you tried to get used to the feeling. "God, Michael-" you moaned.
He started to move slowly, drawing back before thrusting deep again.
Each movement sent a shiver through your body. He felt incredible inside you, every thrust finding exactly the right places, filling you in a way that made your mind go blank.
His breathing grew heavier above you.
"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his voice rough and uneven. "You're so tight."
He pulled back again, slower this time, making sure you felt every inch before pushing all the way in once more.
The motion made your body shake beneath him.
"Just remember this moment the next time you see him, alright?" he said, his voice low and firm, making sure you wouldn’t forget exactly who you belonged to.
"Michael…" you moaned, breathless. At the sound of his name, Michael slowed his movements, his dark eyes locking onto yours.
"Say that again." The demand in his voice sent a shiver through your entire body.
"M-Michael-"
The second his name fell from your lips, he snapped his hips forward harder, faster, forcing a broken cry from your throat.
Your moans spilled uncontrollably into the air. Michael leaned down and kissed you. It was messy and desperate, your lips crashing together as both of your moans melted into the kiss. His mouth swallowed every sound you made, his breathing rough against your skin. Then he pulled back just enough for his lips to brush your ear.
"Say it again," he whispered, his voice possessive and dark. "Whose woman are you? Who do you belong to?" His thrusts stayed relentless, each one driving the words deeper into you.
"I belong to you, Michael," you gasped. He groaned softly, his grip tightening against your hips. "Michael who?" he demanded, his voice rougher now. "Jackson," you moaned, barely able to form the words through your shaking breaths. "Michael Jackson."
A satisfied sound escaped him. "That's right." He kissed the side of your neck, his lips lingering there before he spoke again. "You're mine. Every single bit of you." His voice dropped lower, sending heat through your entire body. "Don't ever forget that." The intensity of his words, combined with the way he moved inside you, sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you.
Your body tightened helplessly around him. You were dangerously close again.
"Michael," you whimpered, your voice trembling. "I’m gonna come if you don’t stop-" He cut you off immediately.
"That’s okay, honey." One of his hands slid down to press firmly against your lower stomach, intensifying every thrust. "You can come on my cock." His lips brushed your forehead, impossibly tender compared to the rough pace he was setting.
"Come for me, pretty girl." That was all it took. Your body gave in completely. The orgasm tore through you all at once, powerful and overwhelming, making your back arch as your walls clenched and pulsed around him. A broken cry escaped your lips as wave after wave rushed through your body.
Michael groaned deeply at the feeling, his head dropping to your shoulder. "Fuck…" His hand stayed on your stomach, rubbing slow circles as your body shook beneath him, only intensifying the pleasure.
He could feel every pulse around him, every involuntary tremor, the way your body gripped him so tightly it made his own breathing turn ragged.
"That’s it, baby," he groaned against your skin. "You’re coming so well on my cock."
And before your body had the chance to recover, before the trembling had even fully stopped, he started moving again. Slow at first. Making sure you felt every inch. As if he fully intended to make you fall apart all over again.
This time, he lowered his face to your neck, kissing it again as he continued thrusting into you.
"Michael, wait, I-" you gasped, every sensation hitting you intensely, your body still oversensitive from your last orgasm.
"Shh," he murmured against your skin.
"Just take it for me, okay?"
His lips moved slowly along your neck, leaving more marks behind. Each kiss only intensified the pleasure. And his pace never slowed.
Your nails dug into his back as he drove into you, hard and relentless, his mouth still working against your skin.
The overwhelming intensity built quickly. Too quickly. You could feel yourself getting close again.
Before you could even warn him, your body gave out. Pleasure crashed through you all at once. Another orgasm tore through you, stealing the breath from your lungs and leaving your mind completely blank.
You were left dazed beneath him, trembling from the aftershocks. A light tap against your cheek pulled you back. Your eyes fluttered open to find Michael watching you.
"You okay, angel?" he asked softly, his hand brushing over your lower stomach.
"Yes," you managed to breathe out. "I'm okay-"
A light slap landed right above your pussy, making you jolt.
"So dirty," he murmured, his voice low and amused. "Coming so much from my cock."
Then his hand moved to your hair, brushing it gently back from your face. He leaned down to kiss you. The kiss was softer this time, almost reassuring. When he pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against yours.
"You can hold out more for me, right, baby?" His voice was quiet, coaxing. And as he spoke, his hips began to move again, slowly. Making sure you felt every inch.
Both your breath and moans were shaky now. Each thrust sending you into a different dimension as he speeds up a bit. Your legs now both trembling from the intense pleasure.
"How does my cock make you feel, hm? Tell me." His voice was low and teasing as every thrust hit exactly where it made your body tremble.
"I-it feels so good," you moaned breathlessly.
A slow smile spread across Michael’s face. He bit lightly at his lower lip, his head tilting as he looked down at you with dark, hungry eyes.
"You’re so dirty right now," he murmured. "Drooling everywhere, can't even talk properly."
His thumb brushed softly across your cheek. "Just a whining mess for me."
Then he kissed you. Hard. His thrusts grew deeper, harder, making your body jolt beneath him.
The overwhelming pleasure brought tears to your eyes. Michael noticed immediately. "Shh, angel, it's okay."
He broke the kiss just long enough to press a soft kiss to your forehead.
"I know," he murmured gently. "I know, baby."
His hand brushed through your cheeky, wiping your tears, his touch impossibly tender compared to the relentless pace of his hips.
"You're taking it so well for me." Another orgasm was building fast, tightening through your body. Michael noticed the way your breathing hitched, the way your body clenched around him.
"Just hold on a little longer, my love."
His own release was approaching too.
You could feel it in the way his thrusts became needier, less controlled, his grip tightening against your skin.
"C'mon," he breathed, his voice rough now. "Come for me again."
That was all it took. Pleasure crashed through you all at once. Your body arched beneath him as another powerful wave overtook you, stealing every coherent thought from your mind.
And almost instantly, Michael followed.
A deep groan escaped him as the tension finally snapped.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
The pleasure was euphoric. It left you both breathless, trembling, completely undone. Michael stayed close, his forehead resting against yours as he struggled to steady his breathing.
His hand slid gently through your hair again, his touch soft now.
"That's it," he murmured quietly, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips.
"Good girl."
He stayed there for a moment longer, holding you close as the last aftershocks slowly faded.
🐆💋 — drunk dbf!michael, who ends up calling you in the middle of the night, too inebriated to care that he shouldn’t call you. you pick up, of course, voice groggy, wondering what’s going on. he feels bad for a second but it disappears once you ask if he’s okay. yeah, like he’s okay. he’ll lie and say yes, mumbling on about how he’s exhausted from being in the studio all day, but it was all a lie. well, sorta, he did go into the studio today but only to finish recording a song that will never get released. a song he made about you, his embarrassment taking over once realization hit him that he was singing sexually about his best friend’s daughter. yes, you’re an adult and you’ve probably done some things, but michael should know better. he’s not that much of a perv.
you try to ignore the feeling between your legs, michael’s using his natural voice, it’s so deep and sensational. he’s rambling, rambling on about life. all the while, you’re trying to keep your fingers from going under your night clothes and ease the ache in your pussy. you bite your bottom lip and come back to earth once michael asks you about your boyfriend. you don’t know how to answer, because how do you tell a man much older than you that he’s the reason why you’ve been staying away from your own boyfriend? that he’s on your mind at night and through the day, not your boyfriend.
of course, you don’t, you clear your throat and tell him that he’s okay. michael hums, the jealousy coming back like a little fire. he rubs his lips, wondering how long it will take for your boyfriend to end things between you. michael then begins to wonder what he can do again to finally be that wedge in your relationship. he can tell by your tone that you’re hiding something, because usually the minute michael brings up your boyfriend you can’t contain your excitement; no matter how exhausted you are.
michael will ask you if you’re sure, and you hum, scared to answer because maybe you’ll make a mistake in telling him the truth. which, you can’t afford to ruin the friendship you have with michael. michael tells you okay, and that you can tell him whatever you have going on in your pretty little mind. he’ll slip in a pet name, something he hasn’t done in a while before calling it night.
you lie there in your bed, fingers finding their way to your aching hole, sliding in and out as you try to think about your boyfriend. too bad you end up thinking of all the positions michael can put you in before you call it a night.
"You're so pretty. Go on. Say it. Say you're pretty." You cooed, taking him gently between your fingers. Each sweet mwel you managed to coax from his parted lips sounded like music to your ears.
"Baby, c-c'mon.." he pleaded from behind his huge hands covering his face.
Without reply you simply looked at him expectantly, taking him apart with just your gaze.
A crooked sigh raked out from between his lips, "I'm pretty.."
"Again, mikey." You purred, allowing the mix of slick, sweat and spit to aid in the tentative taking apart of the man before you.
"I'm pretty.." he whined. Over and over he recited, almost like a chant. A chant that maybe would grant him endless pleasure if he said it enough.
Sweet kisses were then planted along his neck, some long, some short, all carrying the same weight. "The prettiest, most hansome angel in the world." You added through each kiss sprinkled along his neck and cheeks.
How i felt writing this:
I had to cut it tf off so quick i got so embarrassed
