bre’grace 🫶🏽.

just a sapphic poet lover. blk (she-they)

[sapphicjunglefever]

masterlist❤︎︎.

poetry ꨄ.

always and forever.

forbidden fruit.

butterfly.

mother nature.

the ethereal axis.

distance.

what is love?

speechless.

the lovers anatomy.

earthquake.

the guidebook on how to love, vol. 1.

the love cycle.

⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘

the four seasons.✿᪥☽✾

spring.

winter.

summer.

fall. (coming soon)

𐬾𐬾𐬾𐬾𐬾𐬾𐬾𐬾𐬾𐬾𐬾𐬾𐬾𐬾𐬾𐬾𐬾𐬾𐬾

༇ short stories.༇

my dream girl.

pretty brown eyes.

[sapphicjunglefever]

just like that it slipped

right through my fingers

swallowing me whole

the pit was too deep

and there wasn’t enough water

to fill to well

the pennies rusted

had the finger prints of the wishers

before me

who came to the well

for a wish

but got a drink instead

loved

hoped

dreamed

the coin would grant them access to a life

that wasn’t suffocating

or filling their lungs

with magic water.

[mikeysbadgyal]

imagine some nasty love making with jaafar.. 📷

♥︎ jaafar x black fem!reader

rating - explicit (18+)

word count - 2.1k

warnings - smut, established relationship, missionary, mating press, jaafar takes polaroids of you, he talks you through it, pet names (sweet girl, good girl, baby, princess ), hand holding, soft!dom jaafar, slight breeding kink.. uhh slight nipple sucking, pwp!

a/n : i need him so bad omfg.

“Come here,” he said quietly, shifting so he could pull you fully into his lap.

You straddled him your arms looping around his neck as you leaned down to kiss him.

It started slow, lips moving together with no rush, no urgency just the build of wanting each other more with every shared breath.

His tongue traced your lower lip before slipping inside. The kiss deepened naturally, hands exploring. You could feel him hardening beneath you, but he didn’t push.

He let the moment stretch, savoring the way your fingers tangled in his curls, the way your hips shifted just enough to create friction.

When you pulled back for air, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he admitted. “Not just sex. Just… being close to you like this. Feeling you.” His hands slid up your back under your shirt, skin to skin.

You kissed him again, slower this time, and he responded with equal tenderness. The sofa creaked as you both moved around, making him chuckle against your mouth.

“Maybe we should move before this thing breaks under us.”

Laughing softly, you stood, taking his hand to pull him up with you. He followed without hesitation, letting you lead him down the short hallway to your shared bedroom.

When you both got to the doorway, he paused, pulling you back against him for another kiss, this one hungrier.

Inside the room, he guided you to the bed with gentle hands, never breaking contact. You sat on the edge of the bed, and he knelt between your legs.

“Can I?” he asked, fingers already at the button of your pants. You nodded, lifting your hips so he could slide them down along with your underwear.

He took his time, kissing your thighs, his breath warm against you. Once you were bare from the waist down, he stood and stripped off his own shirt.

He kicked off his pants next, leaving him in boxers that did little to hide his arousal. Climbing onto the bed, he pulled you with him until you were both lying side by side.

His hand found your cheek, turning your face toward him. “Tell me if anything feels off, okay? I want this to be good for you.” The concern was real, part of who he was the sweet soul who always checked in.

“It’s already good. You’re here.”

Kissing you again, he rolled you gently onto your back and settled between your legs.

He didn’t rush to remove the rest of your clothes or his own. Instead, he kissed down your neck, sucking lightly at the spot that always made you gasp, his hands roaming your sides.

When he finally pulled your shirt off and bra off, he paused to admire you, his eyes clouded with want but soft with affection.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, kissing the valley between your breasts before taking one nipple into his mouth.

His tongue circled slowly, and you arched into him, your fingers gripping his head.

He switched to the other side, giving it equal attention, while one hand slid between your legs.

Two fingers slipped inside you with ease, curling just right as his thumb circled your clit. He watched your face the entire time, adjusting pressure and speed based on every little reaction.

Your moans filled the room as he worked you open, preparing you with patience.

“That’s it,” he encouraged softly. “Let me hear you.”

When your hips started to buck against his hand, he withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to suck them clean.

He shed his boxers next, his cock springing free, hard and ready. He positioned himself between your legs again, the head of his cock brushing against your entrance but not pushing in yet.

Instead, he leaned down, bracing himself on his forearms so his body covered yours without crushing you.

He kissed you deeply, then pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “Ready for me?”

You nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. He guided himself inside you slowly, inch by inch, watching your face for any sign of discomfort.

The stretch was familiar and perfect, filling you completely once he was fully seated.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” He groaned, forehead resting against yours as he started to move in long, slow thrusts. Each one dragged against your inner walls just right, building pleasure.

His hands found yours, fingers interlacing as he gently pinned them beside your head. His big palms engulfed your hands.

“The way your gripping me right now… so wet, so warm. I can feel every little flutter when I bottom out. You’re making such a mess on my cock, already baby.” He whispered into your ear.

You squeezed his hands in return, your voice coming out breathy. "It feels so good."

He unlinked your hands so he could reach over and open the nightstand drawer. The familiar click and slide of wood followed, and he pulled out the old Polaroid camera he kept there just for such moments.

The weight of it settled in his palm as he brought it into view.

He angled the lens downward, capturing the exact moment his thick shaft disappeared between your soaked folds. The shutter clicked, the mechanical whirring filling the air as the photo slid out.

"I want to remember exactly how you look right now, spread open and dripping around my cock."

Your walls fluttered at his words, another moan slipping free.

“Fuck, that’s so hot.”

He lifted the polaroid again, this time angling it from the side to catch the way your body rocked with each stroke.

The flash went off, and the photo ejected with that same soft whir. Jaafar groaned at the sight on the developing square before tossing it onto the sheets, focusing back on you, his hips never faltering.

“I love documenting how good you look stretching around me.” He said, hips rolling so you could feel the full drag before he sank deep again. “How you take every inch of me like this.”

Your eyes started to close as the pleasure built your lashes felt heavy.

That slow grind against that perfect spot inside you made it hard to focus on anything else.

He noticed immediately, his free hand coming up to cradle your jaw.

“C’mon, open those pretty eyes,” he urged softly, picking up the camera again, thumb stroking your cheek.

“Look at the camera for me, baby. I want to capture exactly how you look when I’m making love to you like this.”

You tried really tried, but another deep thrust made your lids drop again, a shaky whimper escaping. “I… I can’t… you feel too good. My eyes keep closing.”

His voice stayed gentle but firm, hips speeding up a bit. “I know it feels good, but I need you to look right here.” He tapped the lens lightly against your thigh.

“Open those pretty eyes. Let me see them while I take this one.”

You forced them open, vision hazy with pleasure, as you met the camera’s gaze he snapped another shot.

“That’s it. Good girl. You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

He set the camera down for a moment, both hands returning to your body as he folded your legs higher. The new angle let him sink impossibly deeper with each slow stroke, his pelvis grinding against your clit with every roll of his hips.

“Feel that? How deep I am now? You’re swallowing me whole, princess.”

You gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Yes, fuck! Right there.” You whined, all the pleasure making your eyes roll back.

He smiled, leaning down to kiss you. His tongue matched the rhythm of his hips. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, but he didn’t speed up. He wanted this to last.

Your free hand roamed his back, nails scraping when he hit that perfect spot inside you. He moaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through the both of you.

“Right there?” he asked, angling his hips to repeat the motion. You nodded, and he focused there.

Jaafar grabbed the polaroid again, angling it to catch your face as ecstasy etched across your features.

"Eyes on the lens. C'mon, open those pretty eyes."

You managed to look vision blurred, as he captured the moment.

He snapped more close-ups of his cock sliding in and out, strings of your wetness stretching between you, your face twisted in pleasure with your mouth open in a moan.

"You’re so nasty letting me photograph you while I’m balls deep,” he said, throwing the camera aside again. "Doing so good for me. Gonna fill you up and watch it leak out.”

The pleasure coiled tighter with every deep thrust, his fingers laced with yours again as he guided you closer to the edge.

“I’m getting close,” you moaned.

“Sweet girl, I know but hold on a little longer,” he whispered, his voice thick with love and lust. His hips rolled deep, grinding just right.

His words were soft but commanding, his lips brushing your ear as he kept the same rhythm, refusing to let you tip over.

A broken moan escaped your lips. “I’m trying… you just feel so good.”

He kissed just below your ear. “I know, baby. And you’re taking it so well. My perfect muse, all spread open soaking my cock.”

“I want you to remember exactly how this feels how full you are, how wet you sound. Gonna look at those photos later and stroke myself thinking about the way you moaned for me.”

Your breath hitched as pleasure coiled tighter. He noticed the flutter around his cock and the way your thighs started to tremble.

“Look at that,” he murmured, eyes flicking down to watch himself disappear inside you again and again. “Taking every inch like you were made for it.”

You whimpered, your nails digging into his biceps. “Jaafar, I can’t hold on much longer… please.”

One hand slid under your lower back, lifting your hips while the other kept a wrist pinned your beside your head. "Just a little more," he murmured. "Feel every inch. I want you to remember how good we fit."

You arched into him, "Don’t stop talking to me."

His hips snapped forward slightly faster, the wet sound of your bodies filling the room growing louder. “Such a messy girl,” he said, grinding against your clit with each roll.

“You’re creaming all over me, soaking the sheets.”

He leans down, his mouth finding yours in a messy kiss, swallowing all your moans.

"I love you so much," he whispered against your lips between thrusts. "My sweet girl. My perfect, filthy muse."

You whined, your legs trembling as they rested over his shoulders. “I’m getting so close. Keep going, just like that.”

The position kept you pinned, legs spread wide, completely open to him. Jaafar’s eyes stayed locked on where you joined, occasionally flicking up to meet yours.

You felt your orgasm approaching fast, fed by the eye contact and his constant stream of praises. "You’re everything," he murmured.

"Every time I’m inside you, I remember how lucky I am. Come for me, let me feel it."

His thumb pressed on your clit, and your climax crashed through you, body shaking as you clenched around him.

As it hit, your whole body arched into him, and he groaned at the tight squeeze around his cock. "That’s it, come for me, good girllll."

“Let it all out. I’ve got you,” he murmured, kissing your jaw.

"Fuck..Jaafar!" you cried out, voice breaking as your pussy pulsed hard around his cock.

He followed soon after, hips stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt coming with a low, drawn-out moan. He stayed close, forehead to yours, breathing through his release while still holding you tight.

He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, and your lips after a few seconds. "You okay?" he asked.

You nodded, smiling up at him. "More than okay. That was whew… I love when you talk me through it like that."

He chuckled softly. "Good. Because I’m not done yet."

A/n: i stay getting lazy at the end lmaooo but ENJOY <3

[mikesfavfish]

FAVORITE PART: jaafar jackson x f! reader

content/warnings: quickie smut, jaafar's in his michael makeup, wife! reader, they're currently in tension bc theyre mad with each other, so it lowkey starts angsty but ends steamy and redemption, short but sweet, sub and whiny jaafar YES, dry humping into unprotected sex (hints at breeding kink), fem anatomy described WC: 4.1k A/N: i knew as SOON as i saw him post this picture... a fic was incoming LOL. also, i've been getting lots and lots of questionable and hate comments under my account and i'm here to tell all the haters that this is not the page to do so. i will cuss you out AND block you!

You’ve been gnawing at your lip for what seemed the entire car ride- 45 minutes to be exact. You were unsure whether even coming to see your husband at work was the right idea, especially right now. But it was a tradition you both had built since he began filming, and you weren’t planning to break it just because you happened to be mad at him. 

The argument started two nights ago over something that should’ve been small but has grown slightly. Due to Jaafar’s new movie, Michael, being a family-oriented production, much of the funding came directly from the Jackson family. Thankfully, most of the older family members had their wealth secured and set, and didn’t dig too deep when investing their funds. The second generation, such as the Jacksons’ kids, including Jaafar, weren’t as wealthy. They had their privileges, of course, but most of the money they made was earned individually. Jaafar had built his wealth through music production and occasional film score composing. 

When you got married, you agreed that any major financial decisions would be made together. That was the smartest and most conscious decision. For the five years you two have been married, that deal has been kept. A couple of days ago, however, you received a phone call from your accountant, who let you know that a very large sum had been removed from your account and transferred to someone else. When you double-checked with her to assure it was a mistake, she let you know that Jaafar had signed off on it.  You looked into it, and it turns out, Jaafar had contributed his own investment into the film, without double-checking with you. It made your stomach twist with irritation and hurt, but you chose to brush it off till he got home that evening. 

You were at the kitchen table, dinner in hand, as the front door opened. Jaafar walked in, throwing his hoodie on the coat rack before making his way into the kitchen. “Hey, baby.” He muttered and reached to press a kiss on your face. You turned slightly, lips hitting your hair instead. 

His eyebrows rose in confusion, but he brushed it off, turning to the sink to wash his hands. He took a quick glance at you, searching for anything that could alert him to why you hadn’t greeted him back. “How was your day today?” 

You shrugged, food no longer looking appetizing. You set the fork down and picked up the glass of juice. “Could’ve been better.” Jaafar sets his plate down, arms holding his upper body up against the marble-grained countertop. “Why’s that?” 

“Why did you take 1 million dollars out of our account and give it to the Estate?” You curtly say, pivoting your body towards Jaafar. You point to the flat screen of your phone against the table, lip twitching in uncertainty. You hated confrontation, and doing it with your favorite person made you hate them even more. 

He sighs, shaking his head. He parts his mouth, ready to give an explanation even he knows isn’t enough for you to just leave it alone. “You know my family’s all giving their own shares. I thought it’d be necessary if I did too.” 

“Without checking with me?” 

“I didn’t think I needed to. With filming going on, we needed more funds for some reshoots we’re doing. I thought it was obvious.” 

You scoff, standing from your chair. You stride towards the kitchen, across from Jaafar as he keeps his gaze on you. “We have been asking each other about that kind of stuff for 5 years, Jaafar. Why would it change now?”

He shrugs his shoulders, and his unwillingness to even pretend he can’t see where you’re coming from begins to make your blood boil, but you cross your legs, holding onto the counter for some sort of support, at least. 

“I get you want to help your family out, and it is your movie, but you have to let me know. I cannot see that kind of money just being transferred out of our account with no explanation.” 

“It’s just money. We’ll get it back, I promise.” “That’s not the point I’m trying to make, Jaafar, and you know it. It’s the fact that you did it without checking with me first.”

Jaafar picks up his plate and fills it with food. You stand, baffled, unsure whether he was done talking to you. He walks behind you, taking his seat in the chair at the table. You turn, hands raising in confusion. “Are we done discussing this?”

“We’re not discussing anything. You’re arguing with me about it while I’m trying to explain my side.”

“No one’s trying to argue, babe. I’m just letting you know I didn’t feel comfortable with that happening.” 

He sighs, eyes closing as he rests his head in his palms, breathing without structure. You cross your arms, feeling defeated. “And I’m letting you know what it’s for. I’m not asking for the money back; we need it. The movie needs it. I need it.”

There’s a slight crack in his voice as he speaks, and you know the pressure of everything is on him. It’s in the tired creases around his melancholy eyes, under the plumpness of his chapped lips. It’s in the small bruises in his hands and knees, dancing for hours till his toes bleed in pleas for a break. 

But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s belittling your side of the conversation, so you muster all the courage inside you to shake your head, foot tapping against the tiles under your slippers. “I understand that. I do, I really do. But that amount of money is huge. There’s no excuse for that. We’ve been talking about wanting to try for children soon, yet you make decisions like this behind my back without consulting me first. That hurts, J.” 

“It’ll play out when the movie comes out. That money will come back, and more.”

You suppress an eye roll and shrug your shoulders. “Can you even try to apologize and see where I’m coming from?”

“I do see your side, baby, I do. But please, for the sake of peace, see mines too.” 

Your heart hurts. You understand he’s deflating the way he is because of pressure, exhaustion, and confusion. But you know you’re right, too. And neither of you is willing to recognize each other’s explanations right now. You take a deep breath and raise your hand. “Fine, then. For the sake of peace, sleep in the guest room.” And with that, you give him one last disappointed look before walking away. For a second, you think he’ll apologize and come after you. But in the next second, your steps stay lonely. 

The next morning, Jaafar doesn’t say anything to you before he leaves. He brews you a mug of coffee, but doesn’t leave a note or even bother sending a text message throughout the day to check up on you, like he usually does. You knew the argument could’ve been fixed with a simple apology from him, and maybe a rational thought from you as well, but it was puerile behavior from the two of you now. You reciprocate the same energy by not making him dinner that evening and staying by the pool until he falls asleep. You walked by the guest room and took a quick peek inside. He’s asleep, still dressed in his clothes, even having his shoes on. He’s shivering, and he’s holding the throw pillow tight in his hands. The sight makes your insides turn, in regret and empathy. You shake your head to yourself and walk inside, softly pulling the pillow to the floor. You reach to take his shoes off, and hold his sole carefully, aware of the blisters covering his toes. You throw the blanket on his body, giving his thigh a squeeze before walking away. 

“I love you.” His voice is dazed, interrupting your attempt to quietly leave the room. 

You hold onto your chest before breathing softly. “I love you. Night.” Your voice is fragile, and even as Jaafar’s hardly awake, he heeds the pain in your voice. It makes the guilt soothe him even more, and he closes his eyes, afraid that if he keeps them open, he’ll shatter into a million pieces. 

•┈┈

You park your car in the parking garage, taking a deep breath and holding onto the bag you’ve brought with you. You brought one of Jaafar’s favorite foods, a crispy chicken sandwich from the Honor Bar. It was where he took you for your first date, and you’ve been bringing him lunch every week, as a way to see him amid all the busy hours throughout the work days. 

The crew members greet you as always, giving you polite gestures as you walk through the halls with your bags in hand. Your pass is wrapped around your neck, and you check the time on your watch before stopping in front of Jaafar’s door. You bring a hesitant hand to the door before taking a breath, knocking softly against the wood. You wait a beat before opening the door, and feel the breath you’ve been holding in release on its own. Your occupied hand trembles, and you feel your body betraying you as you force your mouth shut. 

Jaafar is in front of his vanity, a small mirror mounted on the wall, with bright, intense lights highlighting the details of his face. He’s dressed so elegantly, still in costume. His makeup and hair still intact, and despite visiting him for so long, you’ve never actually seen him in costume. Not so still, at least. And alone. 

You hate the fact that there’s a flicker of disbelief in his face, one that he masks with relief. You give him a small smile and clear your throat. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby.” 

“You look shocked to see me here. Not sure I like that.” You close the door and turn the lock as you take a seat on the couch across from Jaafar. 

He opens his mouth, gazing into your eyes as he removes the sparkling white glove from his hand. “I figured we’d still be… you know. I think I didn’t want to get my hopes up.” 

There’s a small scoff that escapes from you, but you follow it with a tut. You cross your legs, tapping your fingers against your knee. “How are your hopes now?” 

Jaafar bites his inner lip, tugging at the tag on his pants as a distraction. “Undeserving.” 

You take his mutter into consideration, cognizant of the tone as he waited for your response. You hum, dipping your head as your eyes remain locked with his. “We have to talk about it eventually. Now, preferably. I don’t want our food to get cold.” 

He softly breaths, an attempt at expressing a sense of humor, but he’s too emotional to do so. “I’m sorry for my behavior these past few days. For a while, actually.” You give him a nod, an acknowledgment of the understanding of what he means. 

“The process for creating this film, and bringing it to life, has become such an overwhelming process. I got so wrapped up in trying to figure things out the way all these experienced people have done before that I thought I could do it, too. In doing so, I went against our core vows and have hurt you in the process. That was never my intention, baby. I truly am so sorry for the way I've acted over the past few days. I gave you space because I know we both needed that more than anything. But I missed you so fucking much, I was going crazy.” Jaafar’s voice cracks numerous times, and he feels the top of his lip wet with several tears. He doesn’t care to let the emotion come to life, because he deserves to feel the regret he came to terms with the moment he saw you walk away. 

There’s no sound in the room besides your heavy breathing, and it takes every restrictive power in you to stop you from standing and shoving Jaafar’s delicate face into your chest. The tears streaming down his face break you so gently. You taste the sweat under your chin as you bring it to your lips, moving anxiously under Jaafar’s red eyes. 

“I’m sorry for not being willing to see your side, baby. I think I always did, but I was mad at you for being so stubborn.” You whisper, eyes slightly dipping in mendacious tautness as your husband gives you a concurring nod. 

He dabs at his face, attempting to wipe any tears off his prosthetics before he continues speaking. “You wouldn’t have to feel that way if it weren’t for me. I’m so sorry, sweet girl.” 

The nickname breaks you of any restraint, and your body rises before your mind alerts you. You close the short distance between the two of you and wrap your arms around Jaafar’s sequenced shoulders, rubbing at any previous rigidness with consoling devotion and pardon. He feels the way only your unique and soothing touch can bring him back to life fully, and he closes his eyes, a quiet moan escaping him. It was quiet under the heavy breathing that was transpiring from his mouth, which you almost didn’t catch. Almost. 

“Now, now, I forgive you, baby. I missed you, too.” There’s a commanding intonation in the manner you hum against Jaafar’s styled hair, and suddenly the friction between the two of you grows desperate. This was secretly your favorite part after all the worries are no more, and the things you have said to one another are gone. Somehow, it always got to that point. Where sincere apologies are made, and you drop the authoritarian act, and become authoritative. The anger is no longer quiet screaming, but instead moans of passion. In some way, you sometimes wonder if this unbreakable habit is wrong, but it always gets to that point somehow. Where your clothes become half-off, and all the pent-up frustration becomes released through ruts and rushed kisses.  

There’s a twitch in Jaafar’s hardening cock as he hears the tone in your seductive syllables, and he forces his hand against the pinch of your waist to relax. He slightly pulls his head away from your chest and throws his head back. “We’re done filming for the day, in this costume. I’m ‘posed to be taking this makeup off, actually.” 

You hum in reply to his piteous mumble and bring your fingers across Jaafar’s face, fixating on every detail of his features. The makeup team took their time in ensuring his face was exact to what his uncle’s details were, and you ran your fingers extra carefully on the parts you noticed were made with additional caution. It was something so alluring about seeing Jaafar in this costume and makeup- it was almost like it was another version of him you never knew you could access. But having him under your touch, legs on either side of his perfectly built thighs, made your core begin to moist with seduction and satisfaction- a guilty pleasure, if truth be told. “Is that so? And here I was, having some time to watch how beautiful you look in that makeup.”

Jaafar would never get used to the way you would confidently call his beauty out. He knew he was a pretty man, but hearing the words come out of your lips, the ones he loved to run his tongue against, was another form of a tantalizing rush down his cock, quickening his pulse until his mind would become foggy, control no longer his. “Can you help me take it off, then? Please, baby?” 

A double glance at the locked door is all it takes for your lips to crash against Jaafar’s. Your tongue swirls against his, desperate savoring evident in your hoarse exhales. Your hands run along the back of his head, textured curls tangled in between your fingers. There’s a soft piece caught between your ring as you pull, which makes Jaafar whine. The cry is frenzied, and a smirk crawls on your lips. His hands began to fondle with whatever plumpness of your body he could find, wanting to capture whatever he could knead. 

Every clash against your mouth is an unspoken plea Jaafar begs for sonorously. He needs more, and despite the wetness of his pre-cum you feel against the material of your bottoms, the distance is too much. He knows there’s a time limit that the two of you have to fool around before work begins again, and the warmth that circulates throughout his body is enough sampling to thrill him for more. He takes a shameful swallow before lifting his hips up, readjusting himself in the chair, and gripping onto your hip bone. He laps at your lip as he moves your body against his own, the drag of your clothed cunt against his own cock melting flawlessly. You grind onto his lap with erratic snaps, eyes rolling back with elation. The thrums against your skin become too much, and you pull off your top, crashing Jaafar’s face into your chest. He does his job in nipping at the softness of your breasts, ensuring a mark is left with a desperate lick. His patterns become overstimulating, so you pull down your bra and keen in roil as his teeth graze over your nipples. 

Jaafar silently begs to whoever is listening to his intoxicating mind to allow him to remain in this bliss forever. His eyes trace over the transfer of his makeup against the sweat on your skin, and that sight is the most captivating thing he’s ever seen on you. He feels his hair stick onto his skin, but his focus remains on the bounce of your breasts, every hump against the curve of his cock enveloping him in a trance he never wants to snap out of, not even when he feels his release begin to build up. 

You feel the metal of his zipper hit your clothed pussy, and the sensation makes your button tingle with electricity. You feel your slick continue to swell, pleating against your folds. Your jerks are intense, like a personal workout your body appreciates you’ve decided to take. Your eyes open for a slight minute, stuck on the way, Jaafar’s eyes remain riveted on your body. You let out a sharp intake of breath, feeling a tiny bit of drool threaten to escape from the side of your mouth. The consciousness only grows because Jaafar’s eyes begin to well up with tears. Overstimulating tears, the ones that you know he’ll let out the second your walls enclose around his bare cock. 

He gives a soft croak as his eyes dip, greed entering his body as he cups your breast. “More, more, more.” Every whine is hasty, yearning for a release. He doesn’t care that his underwear will be sticky once he pulls it down his legs, or the fact that the very expensive costume pants he’s wearing will be ruined with your slick. Jaafar’s only focus is on the rapid darts of his tongue on you. He watches the way your mouth parts open, your head bobbing with every lap he gives you.  

He feels the release threatening to snap, so he uses all his force to grip onto your hips even harsher, approving of every pornographic bounce you lay on him. “I need to cum.” He whines against your skin, and you bring your mouth to his ear, softly licking his lobe as your hand runs down his neck and onto his jacket, gripping the material beneath it. The small conscious part of your mind is aware he’s still in costume, and will most likely have to return it once he’s done using it. 

The bigger portion of your consciousness, however, only cares about the intense throbs of your cunt, because you give him a laudatory nod, melting at the way your skin burns so perfectly under Jaafar’s reckless hold. Your husband instantly uses his green light and cries, moaning like an animal in heat as his release fills his pants, wet and slick, and begins to run through onto your thighs. Your release comes seconds after, and your bounces slow down, legs spasming with exhaustion. 

Your heavy breaths blend, and you bring your hand hurriedly to his pants, unzipping the material, fingers wetting with Jaafar’s cum. You bring a finger rapidly to your mouth and lick it, humming at the taste. Jaafar swears he feels more spill out of his tip, so he brings his hands to help pull his cock out as you stand and step out of your pants, not caring to do the same with your panties. You pull those to the side and keep one hand on Jaafar’s shoulder, breath hitched as you sink down on his cock. Every inch is an eyeroll you give, and before you know it, you’re both immediately swallowed by warmth. There’s a hint of pain, so you use the adjustment to his size to bring your lips to his neck, licking at his sweet spot.

“Thank you, my sweet girl. Thank you.” The tightness disappears into pleasure, and you move slowly. You begin to grind against his shaft, building up slick before you begin to quicken your pace. His hands come up to your face, and your features fit so perfectly against his large palms.

“You’re doing so good for me, for us, my baby. I love you. You always do so great. I admire you, my sweet love.” Every word hits you deeper than his cock, and your body instinctively begins to build an unrelenting tempo, every ride against his perfect cock massaging your walls. It makes your body yearn for more, more than what you’re bucking for.

Every bounce on him becomes a precise beat, hips smacking against one another at the same time. Your fingers run under Jaafar’s eyes, tears slickening them as you softly smirk. “All these tears, just for me, hm?” 

He nods without hesitation, cock hitting every spot so perfectly. “Yes, m’am.” Oh god, could he be any more perfect for you? You hum against his skin, watching the ways his curls move against the rhythm you’ve both set, and it makes you fuse grow even quicker. 

Jaafar grips both sides of your hips, eyes focused on the way his cock slips in and out of you. Watching the way your cunt is so perfectly stuffed by him, it makes his hunger grow. He takes hold of the control, thrusting himself into you with pounds so heavy and filling, you feel it penetrate you mercilessly. His mouth opens before he can think about what he’s about to say, yet he feels no regret. “I want to cum inside you and put a baby in you. Can I do that? Please? Will you let me stuff you full, sweet girl?” Your moans become inconsolable, and you nod your head, unwilling to care about the reality of what this will mean for both of you. Your legs begin to shudder, and you give warning taps against Jaafar’s face as he nods. 

His thrusts become frantic, wanting to make sure you feel the need in every vein inside you, in every rut as he begins to fill you. He directs your hand to your nipple, and you pinch it, and your vision becomes spotty. Your mouth parts, and your back arches as Jaafar’s hips jerk against you. His whines grow louder, and you take every single one in memory as he spills inside you, painting you like a piece he wishes to admire forever. His tired eyes come down to your opening, and he watches in awe as his release spills outside your cunt and down your legs. 

You fall onto his chest, knees limp as Jaafar brings his hands to your back, soothing it in a familiar pattern. A wave of aftershock washes over you for some time, so you’re silent, body slightly twitching from the sputters undone. 

Jaafar pulls your head off his chest with care, pressing kisses against your face as he whispers comforting praises. It makes you melt, and your walls begin to flutter as he softly twitches inside you. His pupils are dilated, and the sight of his wet, dark, beautiful eyes makes you lean forward, relaxing your mouth against his. 

“Sweet girl.” He mutters against you, stroking the softness of your neck as your breathing calms down, no longer past the normal beat. 

There are no words, no sound. Just breaths, just nearness. Just Jaafar’s familiar hand brushing his thumb over your knuckles, just existing quietly in a now sacred space you’ll both remember for a lifetime. It’s a moment you begin to already detail your mind over, resting your open palm calmly over your husband’s even heartbeat, a pulse that he gentles with passionate vulnerability. 

[rockinmywrld]

One Night

Type: One Shot

Genre: Smut (18+)

Pairing: Jaafar Jackson x Reader

Tags: Jaafar Jackson, one night stand, Public, celebrity x fem reader

Summary: You are a seat filler at the BET Awards and happened to be seated next to Jaafar.

a/n: been a bit since I posted Jaafar, and tonight he looked extra scrumptious.

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You give yourself one last glance in the mirror as you smooth your dress and fidget with the part of your hair that refuses to cooperate. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as excitement and disbelief battle in your mind.

You were really going to the BET Awards.

When you filled out the seat filler application months ago, it was really just a joke...you had too much wine and thought why not? You never thought they'd actually choose you.

But yet, here you are. In a dress that hugs your curves just right, the illusion of designer despite the dress being terribly out of season. But no one there needed to know that.

BET had booked your hotel, but that was where their generosity ended. All alone you did your hair, found your dress, and figured out transportation. Every dollar spent carefully and no corners were cut. Despite being on a budget you were not going to look a fool.

With one long breath, you grab your clutch, finally slide your heels on and head for the door. In the Hotel parking lot your car sticks out like a sore thumb. Your beat up Honda Civic waits for you looking like Cinderella's carriage after midnight.

It may be worn but it's yours.

You laugh to yourself as you hop in carefully to not ruin your dress. The car lags a bit before starting. It takes a bit longer than usual to start you note but at least she still starts.

The ride there was hell. You didn't understand the LA traffic, you had to fight your GPS, and you severely underestimated how hot it could get in the oven you mistake for a car.

But when you finally make it, you make it. Did the security believe you were allowed in at first with that car? No. Did it take an extra fifteen minutes to convince them? Yes. But all that didn't matter now.

You stand in the venue taking in the sight. The theater was beautiful high ceilings and large glass windows. Black marble floors and an echo.

At a table that had the sign: Seat-Fillers, you signed in. A stern older woman gives you a refresher on your role and your seat number. You were here to laugh and clap. Do not talk to the celebrities unless spoken to and of course enjoy the show.

You giddily search for your seat, hoping for a good view. The theater is empty say for people like you sprinkling in, no A-listers or models just yet. Excitement buzzes through you once you do find your seat. It's not bad, obviously you are way in the back in the lower balcony, third row closest to the ground. Decent enough.

When you finally sit down you note two things. One, these seats are really comfortable, and two, you are really nervous. It finally hits that you will be surrounded by people you grew up watching on TV. Granted they probably won't notice you, but to be sitting around them for free? Crazy.

Your mind wonders with who will be sitting next to you. You drag your palms down your thighs the quell all the nerves jostling inside. Phones are allowed, so you pull yours out and check the time. You are really early, the show doesn't start for a few hours. It's better to be early than late but how would you kill the time?

It's not like you're glued to your seat just yet so you decide to explore the theater. You find the bathrooms for just in case, and also the cafe where they are selling ridiculously overpriced muffins and finger foods. You snap photos of pretty architecture and statues. Before you know it, you successfully killed an hour.

You go back to your seat for the remainder of the time. Your heart beats in your ears as you see familiar faces fill the room. You can't help the smile that creeps up your face as your idols find their seats. Your heart lurches every time one gets close but never sits down.

After another hour or so, some of your excitement dies as the seat next to yours remains empty. The show is about to start and still no owner of the chair.

Disappointment lines your stomach. You are forever grateful for the opportunity of course but you just hoped...Oh well.

The show starts and your disappointment fleas out the door. The energy in the room was none like any other. You sprung to your feet immediately, your hands clapping together with excitement.

Being on this side of things was so strange. You see the camera men scaling the crowd, you hear the slight audio delay of the host, you feel the bass in your chest. The bass so deep it made you slightly light headed.

The first award was presented by Jaafar Jackson and Nia Long. Your breath was stolen at the sight of them. They were extremely gorgeous, you couldn't fathom that they were real.

It was like a trance seeing them on stage, when the pair finally exited the stage, the breath clogging your chest eased. Suddenly you can breathe again.

That feeling would grab tight onto you many more times but not like that.

After a performance there was a five minute break. You sit down, toes crying inside the torture device also known as high heels. You relax into your seat, letting your back breathe as well. A low ache pulses through your body as you relax.

"Is this seat taken?" A voice says from your right.

You snap back into your more presentable mask.

"Uh–nope! I mean no, it isn't," you fumble with your words.

Silently you curse yourself out because that was not the cool and unbothered girl you promised yourself you'd be.

"Can I sit here?" He says.

When you finally compose yourself, you get a better look at the figure talking idly in front of you.

Your blood runs cold as your mind pieces together who this was.

Jaafar Jackson.

It was Jaafar Jackson and he was asking to sit next to you.

"Sure," you huff, disbelief clinging to your lungs.

He smiles and thanks you.

"Jaafar," he turns to you, his hand stretched out.

"I know," you breathe and shake his hand.

He chuckles to himself before turning to face the stage. The break was over. Your starstruck haze wasn't but you knew you had to pull yourself out of it and quick.

You sit next to Jaafar Jackson, extremely hyperaware of his every move. Every time he clapped quietly or every low chuckle that was meant for only him to hear.

Here and there you sneak little glances at him. He looks extremely good in person in his navy suit. The color looks amazing against his skin. Skin that is clearer than your vision.

Every side glance made your heart somersault.

At another break, the adrenaline of the night subsides and fatigue cradles your bones.

"I'm so tired," you groan aloud.

"Me too," Jaafar agrees.

You realize you said that out loud. Panic and embarrassment coat your cheeks scarlet.

"Oh my–I didn't mean to say that out loud. I'm so sorry," you scramble.

"No, it's okay. I get it. These things are so long," Jaafar confides in you.

And he was right. No break was long enough. Tiredness plays at the backs of your eyes the more you slip into relaxing around him.

"I had no idea," you say.

"It's going to be a long night," he chuckles.

It's the best sound you ever heard. It makes you feel comfortable. Your shoulders ease, your posture not as stiff. After the break, you two slip into enjoying the show together. Laughing and clapping to music as if you were friends.

As someone performs on stage, Jaafar leans over to you.

"Wanna bounce?" He asks, his eyes completely fixed on you.

You lean closer to him to hear him but despite the proximity the words don't seem the process.

"Huh?"

"Want to go somewhere else?" He asks again.

You glance around because surely he wasn't talking to you. You point at yourself and he nods with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

"Yes, you," He confirms.

He slips your hand into his. Your hand becomes alive at the contact. Your eyes fix on where his skin meets yours.

Was this allowed? Could you really just leave?

You slowly drag your eyes to meet his.

Your answer formed before you could ever think it through properly.

"Okay," you agree.

Jaafar's smile grows at your acceptance. He takes you by the hand and gently drags you out the theater. Your mind racing as he takes you beyond what you had access to before. No idea what location or what the two of you would do.

You found it hard to care when this handsome man you only dreamed of talking to has his hand in yours, pulling you into this secluded lounge area.

"Isn't it beautiful," Jaafar says his eyes trained on you as you take in the sight.

It was a little room with one giant window that out looks the bay. Dark wooden shelves that hold books, Hollywood relics, and sculptures. A chandelier hangs above your head, casting a warm yellow light across the room.

"Yes," you say breathlessly. Walking toward the window first.

"What's this place?" you ask.

"Not sure, I found it when I was coming from the dressing rooms. Thought it was really beautiful and wanted to show someone."

Your eyes fix on how the water sparkles as the moon dances on each ripple.

"Thanks for bring me here," you tell him.

You turn to face him, and regret doing so. He looked too handsome and too untouchable standing just a few feet away from you. His eyes catch on your body as the moon illuminates your curves.

You drop eye contact first. The floor was easier and safer option. If you kept looking into those deep espresso eyes, unrealistic thoughts would continue to ghost your mind. Thoughts of touching him. Thoughts of lips on lips. Hands to body.

Just the thought makes your body heat. Every passing second your dress feels tighter and tighter. When you look up again because you love to torture yourself, you notice he's closer.

The look in his eyes is different that before. It's heavier. You could see thoughts swirling in his mind but wanted the key to unlock them. To know what thoughts play in his beautiful head.

He takes another step closer while you remain glued to the floor. Your body turns feverish the closer he gets. He invades your space without permission until he's all you can see in front of you.

Slyly he snakes a hand around your waist, your eye catching at the movement. Jaafar pulls you closer in. You feel his body heat radiating off him on your chest.

"You know, I think you're really pretty," Jaafar whispers in your ear, his voice tickling your skin.

The tone makes your body heady and heavy. Your chest rises and falls in an uneven pattern.

"You do?" you ask, your voice matching his with a hint more breath.

"Mhm," He hums.

Nasty thoughts dance around your mind again. The longer you are in his presence, the less you care about the rules.

His other hand snakes to hold the other side of your waist.

Eyes lock into dangerous contact as his face hovers above yours. Your body buzzes alive under the darkened contact. A conversation is being had with no words. You dare him to come closer as your eyes lazily drag over the lines of his face, drinking in every perfect detail.

His face hovers close enough where his nose ghosts yours. Your lips just a whisper away from his. Almost urging your lips to connect with his but you hesitate. When he pushes forward you inch back. So when you push your lips toward his he mimics your action.

Your heart feels like it might just explode the longer you dance around what you really want.

Since you have never been the patient type, you press your lips closer to his urging him to connect them. And when he does? It's like pouring water on a small fire. Just the pressure of his lips on yours makes you feel faint with desire.

The second time his lips hits yours, it's slow and hesitant but all consuming. You are the one that opens the kiss. Tired from walking on eggshells all event you finally take charge and do what you want no regrets. You grab on to his suit jacket as the kiss gets deeper and hungrier.

He slowly waddles you backwards until your back hits the cool glass. It feels like ice against your inflamed skin.

Jaafar's large firm hands grip the sides of your face as you kiss him messily. Your hands grab possessively at the crook of his neck, nails digging into his skin. The charged air fills with the forbidden sounds of lips smacking. Jaafar's mouth prys yours open with more force than you'd take him for. You can tell he's hungry for you. So hungry, he decides he needs more of you. He hurriedly kisses down your neck as his hands explore you.

He scrapes his teeth up your neck before kissing the tender skin. Every touch makes your body hypersensitive. The need pooling between your legs is embarrassing, your thighs are slick with your arousal under your dress.

Jaafar gathers the edge of your dress to get access to you. Just the ghost of his hand against your cunt almost sends you over. When his hands do find your dripping sex it's like cold water at 3 am. You fall over him when his fingers graze your clit.

"Wow you're so wet for me," he whispers in your ear.

A low jagged moan escapes your throat that was equal part embarrassment and turned on.

His fingers circle your clit as his lips continue to attack your neck. Your body pressed against the window. It's the most shameful thing you've ever done and you don't want him to stop ever.

"More," you plea.

Without much friction (because that's how wet you are) he shoved two collapsed fingers inside you. You moan as the tips of his fingers graze your g-spot upon entrance.

"Fuuuuck," you drawl.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he fingers you. He rocks his fingers at a pace that has your toes curling in your heels. Your body so alive you completely forget about the ache dull in your feet from your shoes.

Your cunt clenches around his fingers as you get closer. You grab a fist full of his suit to steady yourself, you bite your lower lip to quickly yourself.

He lifts your chin, making you connect eyes with him.

"Let me hear you," he gently instructed.

You listen, slowly letting your bottom lip go. If you got caught at least you lived miles away.

His hand rocked faster as the ghosts of your orgasm whisper in your ears. Your eyes never leave his as he coaxes you inside an orgasm none like any other. A watery shriek escapes your throat. You feel your juices flood his fingers.

"You're so beautiful," he moans before crashing his lips onto yours harshly.

You fiddle with this pants, needing more. Jaafar throws his jacket on the floor. He must feel the same way because his hands join your hurried ones to expose his aching erection. When it spring out you see how bad he wants you. He lets you pump it. Jaafar's brows furrow as he moans lowly.

"I need you inside me," you begged. Your voice so banged it was unrecognizable to yourself. You'd think harder on it if it wasn't for the animalistic want invading your mind.

A groan escapes his throat as he picks up. His cock slips inside you like he was made for you. He's long and perfectly thick. He fills you nicely.

Your decorum and last slither of shame fade away each time he thrusts into you. Your moans get louder and wetter. His do too. It makes you feel powerful as you make him break the composed mask to puts on for the world.

The man in front of you completely juxtaposes the polite, and often quiet man in the interviews or clips you see. He's ragged and loud as he chases each thrust that feels better than the last. With this angle he's hitting spots that make you see stars.

Your body drags vertically on the glass of the window, your bodily fluids coat a greasy layer. You wondered how crazy–how hot you two look from the windows point of view. How the moonlight illuminates all the nastier parts of you.

Jaafar drags your top down to reveal your breast. Your nipples harden immediately. His hands grip hard around them, his fingers play with the sensitive bud. As if it was to over stimulate you, he kisses your neck again. Biting and sucking this time. Claiming you.

Even if you never see him after tonight, a small part of you will be his. Right now you are his. His cock pistons into you at a mechanical pace you come all over it again. You shake and clench down around him.

He continues as tears roll down your face. He kisses and licks them away. He kisses you again, it's passionate and reassuring. His tongue swipes over your teeth then deeper in your mouth as if he was on a mission to explore every part of you there was.

"I'm almost there," Jaafar promises you, his words wiggly as he fights moans that scrape his throat.

You cry out because you can't take anymore. He feels far too good all over your body. You feel like your body might just collapse at some point. Your finger nails dig underneath his dusty navy button up.

Your body shocks you when another orgasm rolls through you when he slows down. Jaafar's thrusts slow down to a clinical rhythm as if he easing his release. He hisses in your ears as you feel his cock twitch inside you. You rock your hips into his to help coax his own release.

You hold onto him tightly as he shoots thick hot ropes of cum inside of you with a loud guttural cry. You kiss just below his eye softly. You feel him shake underneath you. He needed this release just like you did.

The two of you stand there bodies intertwined, breaths mingled, and clothes ajar.

The haze cloud induced by Jaafar turns into a fog as you come down from this high. Your chest still heaves but you feel clearer head enough to finally peal off of him.

"That was the best sex I've had in a while," you puff as you pat him on the shoulder.

You put much needed distance between the two of you as you do your best to make yourself look presentable. You put your boob back in your dress. You pull your dress down so that it falls just above your toes.

"Me too..." he huffs.

In a mirror near by you fix what's left of your makeup and hair.

"Thank you for a magical night," you tell him, voice light. You lean over to kiss his cheek.

"So that's it? I won't see you again?" his voice betraying him.

"You wanted too..?"

"Yes," he answers quickly, he notices it to, you see red ghosting his cheeks.

"Oh," you murmur.

You didn't think that was possible. You don't see how it. You don't live here and he's busy.

Jaafar hands cup your face again, and you allow yourself to melt into him. He kisses you with intention that screams I'm not letting you go that easily.

Even after having sex with him, he still managed to make you feel like a school girl with a crush. When the kiss breaks, you don't dare meet his eyes.

"Please put your number in my phone and answer when I call," He pulls his phone from his pocket and hands it to you.

You note that his contact list is fairly short before you add your name and number.

"I'll go back first," Jaafar checks his watch, "they are probably going to wrap up soon."

Right. The Award show. The reason why you met him in the first place.

Jaafar kisses you one more time and promises to call, leaving you to feel the pulsing ache of him alone.

[amnesia-sc]

thigh riding | michael jackson

history! michael jackson x gf! reader

tw: 18+ mdni, pure smut, thigh riding him when he wears his gold pants, mutual masturbation, p in v, cream pie, overstimulation, use of “mama”

wc: 838

୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧

They were ruined.

Not that you had it in mind to care, nor did he, considering what was happening.

Your fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, legs trembling as your hips rolled. The smooth fabric of his gold pants providing a maddening sensation as you ground your bare pussy along his thigh. The spot now damp and stained with your arousal as you chased your high.

Whimpering as you did so and cheeks reddened in embarrassment at your own neediness.

“That’s it, baby.” Michael said softly, pupils blown wide as he watched your cunt move, flexing his thigh and loving the way your whole body twitched at the action. Mesmerized by the sight of your clit dragging back and forth, grinding down as hard as you could against him. Desperately seeking out your own pleasure.

He was tired, given he was fresh off the stage. Leaned back on the couch and watching you dotingly. His cock straining against his pants and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. The large inprint of his erection on display.

His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he finally let himself cave in, one hand dancing down and squeezing himself through his pants for a little relief.

“I wanna see you,” you asked, speech broken apart by a whimper. Your eyes transfixed on his erection.

He smiled, the action lazy as he undid the button and zipper. Loving the way you seemed to have a full body reaction to him, your skin flushing and his thigh getting a bit more wet with your arousal.

Michael’s teeth gritted slightly as he finally took hold of himself, the cool air hitting his tip that was already leaking pre-cum.

He pumped himself once, leaning back again to get a better view of you.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he said quietly, mostly to himself. Loving how completely unraveled you got, unfurling with love and lust and it was all for him.

You loved his gold pants. Although you’d never actually said it out loud, he picked up on it immediately. The way your eyes would linger. Teeth sinking into your lip as you watched him perform from the side of the stage. The way they didn’t hide a thing.

So when he pulled you over his lap and took hold of your hips, dragging you against him, of course you didn’t complain.

In fact, you seemed giddy.

Your eyes were glazed over as you watched him start to drag his hand up and down his cock, right from the base to the tip. His pace quickening with your hips, his head falling back a bit as he groaned.

“Fuck, Mike— I…” Your ground down harder, swirling your hips a bit and he could tell you were close. Your movements growing erratic and his own hips started to thrust up into his hand.

“Keep going, mama. I want you to come all over. I wanna see it.” He bit out, his jaw going a bit slack in pleasure as he felt his own orgasm slowly building.

He fucking loved your body. Every curve and bounce as you moved and your pretty face as your brows scrunched, body starting to twitch as you came. A sticky and glistening liquid coating his thigh as you moaned, your eyes still glued to the sight of him jacking off to you.

Michael bit down hard on his lip, the muscles in his stomach clenching as he tipped over the edge, his fist moving quickly and hips rolling to fuck his own hand as he came. Hot white spurts of his cum shooting out and coating your stomach—

And like a fiend, you crawled up his lap, lips crashing into his and like his dick had a mind of its own, he found himself thrusting into your swollen pussy the moment you hovered over him. Still having a bit of a drive, fucking up into you as he took hold of your hips with one hand as the other buried in your hair. His tongue sliding past yours as he moaned, his tip sensitive from his orgasm and his whole body trembled as he felt your pussy clench around him.

“Fuck,” his head fell into the crook of your neck.

It was too much, his own thighs shaking— “Baby, I can’t.”

“Please, I need it.” You begged, continuing to roll your hips and when his eyes danced down to where he could see his cock sliding in and out of you, a mixture of both your arousals dripping out of your cunt… he whimpered as he came again. This time more violent as he threw his head back, his hips rolling up on their own accord as you joined him. Your walls tightened and taking him for all that he was worth.

His chest was heaving as you melted on top of him, his skin slick with sweat and hair sticking to his forehead, your own breath heavy in his ear.

Michael’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he tried to get a grip on reality.

୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧

michael jackson masterlist

taglist: @mjsweets @get0nthefloor @rlanar @solarrandom @mjssluttyfish @tojiswifeforlife @sometranslationnoteru @sunshineyrosie @swgarpeas @amoravelee @softchaosdiary04 @slugstarzz @unknown11 @redemptioninthe4ethers @saberlight1 @roseidol @iimsopretty @auroralwriting @thottiepebbless16 @wannabestartinsmth @delicate-ray-of-sunshine @devynrulesboisdrool @loverstar014 @mjjsangel @uconnwbbloversworld1 @ghzfj @18lkpeters @devilslittlehelper @cherubae111 @ursamajor17 @sarcasmismyfirstlove @bbpanth3rr @brainacidsstuff @fayleyy @lovern-9 @jxngwons-pinkyy @veraberaxx @thrill3rnights @arzua10 @michaelcomeback @coornballz @escapefromrealitylol @rorawrnoa-zoro @ooooglymoooogly @tellybearryyyy @softchaosdiary505 @yennabow @sparklyglove @khxna @grumpyy-bearr

[highoffrain]

— MY LOVELY ONE

Summary: A quiet late afternoon at Michael’s home while the Jacksons are away on a trip for a few days. Michael decides to stay behind, craving some peaceful time alone, and invites his lady over to spend those days with him. It’s exactly what he wanted—just the two of you, alone and at peace. As Michael sits on the floor, quietly reading his book, you lie on your stomach across his bed, admiring your beautiful boyfriend… who happens to be looking a little too beautiful.

Contains: Thriller!Michael x Reader - Floor sex - Mirror sex - Dry humping - p in v - Uprotected sex - Multiple orgasm (2 IS multiple idc)- Established relationship - Softdom!Reader - Cumming inside - Praise kink (if you squint hard enough) MDNI! 18+

WC : 1.6k

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Author’s Note: I Had one hell of a day and I couldn’t stop thinking about this scenario. Excuse me i got a little carried away wrote this half angry—-half horny…and surprisingly I actually very much like this.

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The sunset shine peaks through the closed blinds of Michael's room, casting long, amber streaks across the floor. He lies on the ground with his back rested against the wall, his legs long and crossed, deeply immersed in a book. Michael loves reading, a passion you know intimately.

You lie on his bed on your stomach, your head resting in your hand as you watch him. Your own book has bored you enough to make you look up, and God, he looks beautiful. His curls fall gently above his forehead, his doe eyes focused intently on the paper in his hands.

You watch the way his slender hands delicately flip the page, and you find yourself biting your bottom lip softly, lost in admiration of your love.

“I do feel your gaze on me, y’know that right?”

He smiles, lifting his head to meet your eyes with a knowing hint.

“Well, it’s not my fault you look so damn good,” you state, holding your head high with a playful grin.

“Matter of fact.” You slide off the bed, making your way toward him. You settle yourself atop him, cradling your legs beside his as you find a comfortable position sitting in his lap.

“Now you can read,” you chuckle, teasing him.

“That’s ain’t fair, mama,” he smiles, his eyes looking so damn hypnotizing in the dimming light.

“Don’t stop reading on my account! I’d hate to have left you on a cliffhanger.”

Michael scoffs softly, but he allows you to feast your head against his chest. His arm rests above your shoulder, still clutching his book, while his other hand begins caressing the soft skin of your back.

As you look up at him, you can’t help the sudden, primal need to press a peck against his bare neck. Michael winces at the sensation, a soft, breathy sound escaping his lips. You feel the heat growing between you, and it is already too late to stop yourself.

You cradle your arms around him and slowly begin to kiss his neck, your intent shifting toward leaving a mark. You bite the soft flesh lightly; he tilts his head back, his focus shattered, and the book drops to the floor, long forgotten now that you are sitting in his lap.

Michael’s hands slide down from your shoulders to find your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you against him, erasing every inch of space between your bodies.

Needy to bring you closer. He rests the back of his head against the wall, his breath hitching as you continue to suck on the tender, sensitive skin of his neck. The heat radiating from him is intoxicating, a feverish warmth that makes your own skin tingle with lust.

When you finally let go to catch breathe breath once lost, your lips leave a glistening trail of saliva on his collarbone.

“Don’t wanna read no more?” you tease, your voice a low, sultry purr

“Stop pestering me...” Michael murmurs, looking away as a shy, breathless smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

Your face hovers mere inches from his, your breath mingling with his as you tease him, teasing the tension until he is practically begging for a kiss.

When you finally give in, you fall into him hungrily, yet ever so sweetly, losing yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his mouth on yours.

His body reacts instinctively, his arms tightening around you as if he wants to consume you whole, pulling you into the very core of his being.

The friction between you becomes unbearable as you feel his hips begin to grind upward, a desperate, rhythmic motion driven by a need for release.

Reacting to the friction, your body moves forward, your hips rolling and grinding against the growing, hard bulge growing against the fabric of his clothes. Your pussy aching for a release.

“Fuuuckk...” Michael exhales, the word breaking through the wet, rhythmic sounds of your frantic kissing. Both of you are a gasping, trembling mess, lost in the overwhelming warmth of each other's presence.

“God, Mike, give it to me, please,” you whine, the plea tearing from your throat. The sound of your desperation makes him strive even harder, his movements becoming more frantic as he tries to break the coil of tension building up within both of you.

“You’re so good to me, Mikey so... s-so fuckin’ good to me,” you gasp out. The praise acts like a weapon, sending him straight to the edge and causing him to come undone under your command.

As he chases a release that washes over him in waves, your own orgasm follows closely behind. You throw your head back in pure ecstasy, your eyes rolling back as the world dissolves into a blur.

You both struggle to catch your breath, the air in the room thick and heavy with the scent of arousal, but the heat is far from gone. Your eyes remain locked on his, as you trail your hands down to his waist.

You undo his belt with practiced ease, never breaking the magnetic eye contact that keeps him addicted to you. He lies there like a ragdoll, completely surrendered, his body obeying every unspoken command you project.

His own hands suddenly move in a frantic, desperate rush to pull his pants down, revealing a dark, damp spot on his boxers that speaks to his readiness.

As his manhood bounces free from the fabric, you can't help but let out a soft, needy whimper. His cock is thick and veiny, displayed magnificently before your eyes, pulsing with his heartbeat.

His hands, trembling slightly with anticipation, find the hem of your shirt and pull it upward, while yours work to unclip your bra.

As the lace falls away, your breasts bounce free, the cool air hitting your heated skin. “My God, you’re a beauty,” he gasps, his gaze traveling over your curves with a reverence that makes your heart race.

A soft moan escapes you at his reaction. He has seen your body a thousand times before, yet he never fails to make you feel like a goddess, his adoration acting as a aphrodisiac.

You smile down at him before diving back into a deep, hungry kiss, tasting the salt of his skin. When you finally pull back, he looks up at you, searching your eyes for one last nod of approval.

When you give it to him, his gaze drops instantly to your sex. He hooks his fingers into your panties, pulling them to the side, and your hand reaches down to guide his thick cock into the slick, welcoming heat of your cunt.

“Oh...” The sound is a mutual, breathless gasp as the immense pressure of him filling you takes over, stretching you wide and grounding you in the sensation.

Your hips instinctively find a rhythm, sliding up and down his length as you adjust to his size.

“You’re so, so good, Mike,” you whisper, your voice trembling. His eyebrows furrow, his expression one of pure, unadulterated bliss; he is far too lost in the pleasure to even attempt to maintain eye contact, his head lolling back against the wall.

As you circle your hips, the friction intensifies, causing Michael to arch his back slightly. Your walls clench around him with every slight, rhythmic move you make, milking him with a desperate, tight grip.

The room is filled with the lewd, intoxicating symphony of his loud, broken whimpers and your continuous, melodic moaning.

Michael wraps his arms tightly around your waist, hiding his face in the soft swell of your chest as the peak of his pleasure draws near. “God, baby... thank you... th-thank you,” he stammers, his voice cracking.

Glancing to the side, you notice the mirror positioned nearby, catching the dim, golden light of the sunset. Also not missing to catch the sinful act you and Michael were participating in.

An idea takes hold of you, a desire to witness the beautiful destruction you are causing him. You softly pull Michael’s head back, grasping his face with your fingers not too harsh to hurt, but firm enough to command.

“Look at your pretty face when you cum baby,” you moan against his lips.

You turn his head so he is forced to face the mirror, ensuring you can make eye contact with him through the glass.

Your rhythm fastens, becoming more frantic as the tension reaches a breaking point. You are both hovering on the edge of a massive orgasm, and as the wave finally crashes over you, you refuse to break the connection.

You keep your eyes locked with his in the reflection, your fingers maintaining a firm, guiding grip on his face. His expression is utterly lewd, his eyes blown wide and hazy, and the noises he makes are raw and uninhibited. You feel hot spurts of cum shoot inside of you.

“Fuck, Mike, that’s it!” you cry out, your voice joining his as he lets out a series of long, desperate whimpers.

A heavy, blissful silence settles over the room, broken only by your ragged gasps as you both struggle to descend from the overwhelming high.

You slowly loosen your grip on his face, your fingers sliding down his cheeks as the electric tension finally begins to ebb away. You collapse slightly against him, your skin slick with sweat and the lingering warmth of your shared intimacy.

Michael’s breathing eventually slows, though his chest still heaves rhythmically against yours.

He begins to move with a tender grace, his lips finding purchase on your skin once more.

He peppers soft, pecks across your shoulders and collarbone, as if he is trying to memorize the texture of your body through touch alone.

Finally, his lips find their way back to yours, but the hunger has been replaced by a deep, soulful warmth.

The kiss is slow and sweet, a lingering taste of the passion that just consumed you. He pulls back just enough to look up at you, his doe eyes shimmering with exhaustion and pure adoration in the dimming twilight.

A playful, lopsided grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, his eyes dancing with a mischievous glint.

“Same time tomorrow, lovely one?” he asks, his voice a low, velvety rasp.

—————————————————————————

[amnesia-sc]

a little stress relief | michael jackson

thriller/victory era michael x gf! reader

michael needed a break from hayvenhurst, so he drove you two up into the mountains that looked over los angeles. you knew he’d been stressed lately— what better way to help take his mind off of it than being spread out on the hood of his car?

cw/tw: plot if you squint, 18+ mdni, public sex, oral & fingering (f! receiving), he loves eating you out through your underwear, p in v, creampie, he’s kinda rough, size kink, use of “mama”

wc: 1.5k

୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧

Your eyes flicked down to where he was gripping your thigh, the veins popping in his hand and you had to bite down on your lip to remind yourself to behave.

Glancing up as the car weaved around the winding roads that led up the mountain side, you watched Michael carefully as he drove the car with his other hand. His jaw set and eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.

It wasn’t often he drove, Bill usually being the one to take him wherever he wanted to go. So when you walked out of your house to see him behind the wheel, your brows furrowed.

“You okay?” You’d asked, cautious. Something was clearly bothering him.

“M’ fine.” He muttered, smile small and not quite reaching his eyes. “Just wanted a little privacy.”

And now here you were, the car rolling to a stop in the dirt in an empty spot that overlooked Los Angeles. The sun beginning to set and dusting the sky in oranges and pinks.

He shut the car off, the radio still faintly playing music and he sighed as he leaned back in his seat.

You turned, observing for a moment. The way stress seemed to coil tightly in his body. You knew Joseph had been giving him a hard time lately. If you could even say that, given it was more like always.

“What’s on your mind?” Your voice was quiet, your hand coming down as you gently played with his fingers that still rested on your legs.

He sighed, the breath coming out long and slow. “I just need a break.”

You hummed, thumb tracing over his knuckles. “Moving out still not an option?”

He shook his head, gaze focused on the city in front of him.

You dropped it there, knowing there was no point in pushing. His family always being a complicated topic to navigate.

“I’m sorry.”

Michael rolled his head to the side, his lips tugging up a bit. “You don’t have to be.”

“I know, but… still. I know it’s not easy.”

He tugged on your hand, bringing you closer, his other hand coming up to hold the side of your throat. “It’s not, but you help make it bearable.” Then he was kissing you, the pressure of his mouth against yours even. His tongue running along your lips before slipping past them, tracing the inside of your cheek and you hummed in content. Fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt to get him closer.

How you two ended up on the hood of his car was a bit of a blur. Something you didn’t really care to dwell on, given you were preoccupied as you moaned. Hands in his hair as he left open and wet kisses along your throat, his hands dancing up under shirt to palm your breasts. Groaning into your skin because you weren’t wearing a bra.

When his hips rolled into you and you whimpered, he paused. Leaning back a bit to look at you, his pupils blown and lids heavy. His teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he debated something.

You were flushed with arousal, your legs on either side of him as his hips settled against yours and not a care in the world that you two were technically in public.

“What?” You asked, voice a rasp.

“Can we do it here?”

Your mouth went a little dry at the thought, a warm feeling swirling low in your stomach.

“Mhm.” You smiled at the delighted look that came over his face, simply happy to see the stress of his life melting away and content that you could help somehow.

Your breath hitched when his hands slid up your thighs and under your skirt, pushing the fabric up around your hips and groaning at the damp spot that was showing through your panties.

“So needy,” he said, teeth sinking into his lip as his thumb ran over the wetness of the cotton and your back arched when it slid over your clit.

“Michael, please.” You didn’t mean to, but it came out as a whine. The sound music to his ears as he knelt down, spreading your pussy open under the fabric and mouth latching onto you.

A cry left you, hands burying in his hair as your hips bucked up to meet his lips as he ate you out through your underwear. Feeling incredibly damp, the fabric sticking to you like a second skin with a mixture of your arousal and his saliva. His tongue adding the perfect amount of pressure as it rolled against your clit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Michael—“

“That’s it,” he hummed against you, the vibrations shooting straight into your cunt.

You’d hardly registered him moving your underwear to the side as you felt two of his long and thick fingers sink into you slowly, the sudden pressure and fullness a shock to the nerves and you shouted. Slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound as he started to finger fuck you with a relentless pace, his mouth leaving your clit for a moment as he tugged your hand away. “I wanna hear you, mama.”

Your fingers fell back into his hair, desperate to hold onto something as he curled his fingers and you went tumbling off the edge. Your orgasm rocking into you and the pleasure only doubling as you looked down, his eyes meeting yours and he was grinning as his tongue lapped you up.

“Fuck, Mikey.”

Your chest was heaving as he stood up, watching in what must’ve been unchecked lust as he undid his belt and pants. His hand disappearing beneath the hem of his boxers before he pulled his cock out. The skin like velvet and the head swollen and glistening as it leaked pre-cum.

You bit your lip hard, whimpering at the sight as he pumped himself a few times, stepping closer to the hood of the car and taking hold of your hips.

“You gonna take it like a good girl? Make me feel better?”

You nodded, your enthusiasm comical and he laughed. The sound short and sharp as he took hold of himself and dragged the tip up and down your pussy, gathering wetness and loving the way your body twitched as the head rubbed against your clit.

When he sank into you, you both groaned. Michael watching with heavy eyes as his cock sank into your swollen pussy, your wetness making the inside of your thighs shine in the setting sun.

You threw your head back at being filled, the head of his cock gently bumping into your cervix as he gave you a moment to adjust.

Michael’s fingers ran gently up and down your sides, admiring you in the low lighting and breath hitching when he saw the slight bump of himself in your lower abdomen. “You look so fucking pretty.”

He then pressed his palm flat down where he could see his cock and you nearly convulsed against him, your jaw dropping open from the feeling.

“Jesus—“

He slowly pulled out, his sanity taking a back seat at the feeling of your warm and tight pussy gripping him in protest, before slamming back in.

He groaned, the sound being yanked right from his diaphragm as you cried out his name. His fingers dug into your hips, his nails leaving bloody crescents and he didn’t have it in him to feel bad. Too pussy drunk as he set a relentless, nearly violent pace as his hips rolled into yours. Seeing the way your cunt greedily ate him up each time, his cock covered in your release and his head rolled back, eyes shutting as the lewd sound of skin slapping skin echoed around them in the empty evening air.

Your back arched off the metal, your own fingers digging into his forearms. Pathetic sounds leaving your mouth as he fucked you. All of his anger and frustration pouring out into the action of love making.

It nearly hurt. His hips snapping into yours, muscle and bone colliding and your cervix being abused— but it was also lovely. Knowing he felt safe enough with you to let go like this. To see him completely unravel when he tried to keep such a pristine reputation for the rest of the world.

You clenched at the thought, dancing on the edge of an orgasm and at the feeling his eyes slid back to you.

Michael’s smile was lazy, despite the way he was fucking you. “You enjoying this? Taking my cock so well out here,” he then leaned down, lips dusting against your throat and the new angle was maddening. His pelvis dragging against your clit with each thrust. “You like getting fucked in public, mama? Should I do it more often?”

You whimpered, nails digging into his back through his shirt.

His hips snapped into yours harsher. “Answer me, baby.”

“Yes! I love it,” You cried, hot tears starting to slip out of your eyes as your orgasm started to crash over you. Your whole body trembling and he groaned as he bit down into your neck as you pulsed around his cock.

Michael’s thrusts became erratic, rutting into you so hard the car rocked against the gravel and not a moment later he cried out your name, burying his cock in as deep as he could go as he filled you up with his cum, desperate to keep every drop inside of you where it belonged.

୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧

michael jackson masterlist

taglist: @solarrandom @mjssluttyfish @tojiswifeforlife @sometranslationnoteru @sunshineyrosie @swgarpeas @amoravelee @softchaosdiary04 @slugstarzz @unknown11 @redemptioninthe4ethers @saberlight1 @roseidol @iimsopretty @auroralwriting @thottiepebbless16 @wannabestartinsmth @delicate-ray-of-sunshine @devynrulesboisdrool @loverstar014 @mjjsangel @uconnwbbloversworld1 @ghzfj @18lkpeters @devilslittlehelper @cherubae111 @ursamajor17 @sarcasmismyfirstlove @bbpanth3rr @brainacidsstuff @fayleyy @lovern-9 @jxngwons-pinkyy @veraberaxx @qultpur @thrill3rnights @arzua10 @michaelcomeback @coornballz @escapefromrealitylol @rorawrnoa-zoro @ooooglymoooogly @tellybearryyyy @softchaosdiary505 @yennabow @sparklyglove @khxna @grumpyy-bearr

a/n: i feel feral today i’m actually a little concerned— also his hands in the first pic?? need them around my throat immediately!!

[mikesbian]

LOCKJAW — Michael Jackson x F. Black Reader.

— SUMMARY: Michael is an eater.

— WARNINGS: sub!mike, bratty!mike, dubcon if you close your eyes, somnophilia, objectification, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of edging, overstimulation, power play, manipulation tactics, use of ma’am & daddy (nobody’s shocked atp), use of mama (he said it irl y’all cmon), manhandling, lil hair pulling, needy reader, reader’s kinda a pushover. reader is black but there aren’t any descriptive details, everyone enjoy! not proofread!

— WC: 4.3k

— AN: Uh. Wrote half of this while cross faded. Otw mike, you are so dear to me.

Michael couldn’t stop thinking about eating you out.

It plagued his mind constantly. While he showered in the morning, he had to stop his hands from jerking himself while you slept peacefully in bed, his mind fully suffocated with the thought of your cum on his lips. Whenever you would do your morning stretches, he’d have to force his gaze from your crotch, the leggings you wore outlining it too visibly. Of course you weren’t wearing underwear. During meetings with music executives, he’d find himself zoning out with the thought of your thighs crushing his head between them as he devoured your wet core like it was the tastiest thing in existence— and to him, it was.

He had to stop wearing tight pants because of it. His dick was almost permanently erect at the thought of his lanky frame cowering beneath you as he took you to your peak.

Eventually, his longing thoughts turned into actions.

At first, it was almost unnoticeable. He’d purposely been discreet. The way he subtly bit his lip from his place on his knees after helping you put on your shiny burgundy mary janes. The little tortured sound he’d make while you massaged his head on your lap; not from the intimate ministrations of your fingers working through his thick curls, but at the sheer proximity of his lips and your…other lips.

It wasn’t even like you two rarely had sex. You had it more than most. Something you didn’t realize, though, was that he wouldn’t be satisfied unless he gave you head, and lately all you’ve had time for were quickies. It was great, but he was selfish and needy, always wanting more. So, he just started begging for it.

Before you went to work.

“Mama, please. For just a bit? I’ll be quick, I promise. You can make me pay for it if I don’t make you cum quick,” he begged on his knees while you stood above him in your work attire.

“Michael, no. You see that I’m on my way out the door. You’re good, but you ain’t that good. I’m not goin’ to work all pent up and angry. Gimme a kiss.”

When your friends invited you to ladies night at a new bar in town.

“Can’t let you out lookin’ that good without remindin’ you who’s waitin’ for you at home, mama. Come on, please? Just need to make sure y’know you’re mine. Please baby, I need it.”

“Boy, get the hell up off your knees and walk me to the door. The girls are outside.”

At every end, he was met with rejection, and it was gnawing at him relentlessly.

So came the wake-up tension. He began to realize he couldn’t function more than a day without his head nuzzled between your soft thighs, so he made it part of his morning routine to eat you out right before he showered, careful enough to not wake you from your slumber. He knew he should’ve asked, but he just couldn’t wait. You just looked so pretty while you slept, sporting a soft pout on your lips and his t-shirt ridden up your torso, exposing your underboob. How could he not?

The thing is, his neediness was in turn making you needy as well. On days where he was in a rush in the mornings and he had absolutely no time to fit oral sex into his schedule, you’d feel almost hollow. You had no idea why. Why were you waking up so horny? Why did you have so many vivid wet dreams?

After waking up yet again with what felt like the entirety of the Pacific Ocean dripping from your pussy for the fourth time this week, you decided to do something about it. You were never one to beg, usually being on the receiving end of it, so it was taking you a while to build up courage. In the end, you decided to just…hint at what wanted. You were just too pent up.

After a cold shower that did nothing to ease the ache between your legs, you made your way to the kitchen in nothing but a silk robe and lacy underwear to call your boyfriend, hoping you would catch him at a good time.

Michael had only been at the record label’s annual sales meeting for two hours and was already ready to go home. It was supposed to be short and sweet, but it droned on and on; music execs and songwriters taking their sweet time cracking jokes and talking about weekend plans. What made it worse was that he found his thoughts drifting right back to your pretty clit, and he got called out at one point for it.

“Aye, Mike! What gotchu smilin’ like that, man?” one of his brothers asked at one point. The smile on his face dropped immediately and he dismissed it as him ‘looking forward to the weekend,’ heat crawling up his neck at nearly being caught. He was losing it.

“Excuse me? Mr. Jackson? Oh- I mean Michael. Your lady’s on the line,” a stubby secretary announced as she barged into the meeting room. “She said it’s urgent,” she added as she saw the board director’s annoyance.

“It’s alright, Michael. We’ve pretty much wrapped up for today. Tell her I say hi,” the director replied.

When he made it to the phone, his heart was pounding in worry.

“Baby? What’s wrong? I’m already havin’ Bill bring the car around. Do I needa call an amb–”

“Mikey, hi!” you responded, sounding way too chipper for something important. You never called him while he was at work.

“Lovey? Can you tell me what’s wrong?” he replied, voice leaking with concern.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you…I just. Well, I miss you, baby,” you responded, guilty at your selfishness. You didn’t think about the implications of telling the secretary to say it was ‘urgent,’ and now you felt bad. Michael could practically hear the pout in your voice.

“Oh, baby, I miss you too! My meetin’ just ended, I’m on my way, okay? We can watch Snow White. How’s that sound, mama?” he cooed at you between soft chuckles, his tone sickly sweet. It made you wetter.

“Y-yes, please. Hurry home, ‘kay? I’ll make brunch. I love you,” you responded, trying your best to compose yourself.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll tell Bill to drive fast as he can without gettin’ us pulled over. See you soon. I love you.”

Click.

Cooking somehow provided a good enough distraction from the growing frustration you had. You hummed to yourself as you cleaned up the mess you made trying to blend up smoothies, giggling to yourself as you imagined your perfect boyfriend making fun of you if he saw it.

You heard the front door creak open and thud shut as soon as you finished setting the quaint dining table and began adjusting the countertop television with the movie.

“Baaaaby!” you exclaimed as your boyfriend entered the room, running into his arms without giving him a moment to set down his stuff. He immediately dropped his things and reciprocated the embrace.

“Oh– Hi, baby. I love this robe on you, n’ you smell so nice,” he replied with his nose in your soft hair.

“You too, pretty boy. Go change n’ come eat. Hurry up, too. I missed you so bad,” you nearly whined at him.

His hand trailed down your back, to the curve of your hips, and then sneakily to the swell of your ass as he peeled himself from your body.

You returned to the kitchen and leaned over the counter to rewind the tape, preoccupied with learning how to master the technology. Long, slender fingers creeped around your waist just as you started getting frustrated, startling you.

“I can help you, baby. Here, let me show you,” Michael whispered against your neck.

You subtly squeezed your thighs together at his breath against your skin.

“M’kay. Just don’t take too long. Don’t want everything gettin’ cold.”

He turned you around and lifted you by your hips, placing you gently against the cold countertop. Kneeling down by your knee, he fumbled with the buttons on the television, demonstrating and explaining different things that were falling on deaf ears. The way his large eyes looked up at you for validation was doing so much more for you than if you were to start playing with yourself right then and there.

“Baby? Did you get that last part? When the remote starts to blin– Oh.” He made eye contact with you then and took a comically audible gulp. The way you were looking at him stopped him in his tracks completely. He looked away bashfully and focused on your knee that was dangling off the counter closest to him. Then his eyes trailed up your pretty thighs. He leaned in and kissed your knee tenderly, sucking in a sharp breath at the intimate contact.

You reached down and slotted your fingers through his thick hair, massaging his head the way you knew he liked it. The poor boy whimpered like he’d never been touched before.

“C’mon, let’s eat,” you drawled, removing your hand from his hair and biting your lip to hold back a smile.

Michael crawled closer to you, positioning himself between your legs and wrapped his hands around your waist, looking up at you like a thirsty animal in search of water.

“Mama…” he started.

“Michael, I took my time with this meal. Get up,” you ordered.

“Please? I had a hard day n’ I need it. Don’t you want me?” he whined.

“Nuh-uh. None of that. Don’t make me say it again,” you warned.

“‘M sorry, I can’t wait…” he whispered as he forcefully pulled your body closer to his face and pressed his nose to your clothed cunt.

“What the hell did I just say?” you questioned him incredulously, trying to steady yourself.

“Smells so good…” he whispered, completely ignoring your protests. He slid his hands to your hips and hooked his fingers into the waistline of your panties, dragging them down without a care in the world.

You thump him on his forehead harshly, appalled at his defiance. To your disdain, he let out the most pathetic moan you’d ever heard from a man.

“Mmnh– and you’re already wet? Oh, god,” he whined, ignoring the pulsing emanating from his temple.

He struggled getting your underwear down, due to you not wanting to lose the power struggle. You pressed your thighs deeper into the marble and attempted closing your legs, but he harshly sucked the most sensitive part of your inner thigh, causing you to loosen up and give him easy access.

“Mike…” you whined.

“I wanna make you feel good. Please, I’ll do everythin’ the way you like it. I’ll go ‘til I can’t breathe. Just wanna taste you,” he begged, looking up at you with his sparkly eyes. He didn’t wait for an answer, and slid his hands right back up your legs, taking two fingers and dragging them lightly against your clit.

“M-Michael, the food,” you tried again, still not ready to give in so easily. He was winning.

“Don’t you want it, mama? I feel how wet you are. Tell me you want it. Please?” he pressed down just a tad harsher, coaxing the response he wanted out of you with just a movement of his fingers. You were embarrassed by just how much he was turning you on like this.

“It’s g-gonna get cold– ah!” you exclaimed as he pinched your clit.

“Tell me you want it? Unless you don’t…Am I not good enough?” he pouted. You knew the game he was playing. You swore you did. But the face he was making…you were losing all sense of right and wrong. And his fingers were doing something to you, but not enough.

He removed his fingers from your sticky pussy and licked them clean, all while maintaining eye contact and moaning graphically. He was playing every card in his deck. He pulled you even closer and rested your legs against his broad shoulders. You said not a word, for fear of your voice betraying you. Instead, you opted for weak nudges to his cheeks and a tug of his hair, but that only fueled him more.

“I like that,” he teased, looking up at you with a smug smile. You pushed his forehead back with your palm as he neared your bare body, and turned your head defiantly. He giggled and darted his tongue out, dragging it along the insides of your thighs, collecting your arousal.

“I can make you feel good, baby. Please let me. C’mon, look at me n’ say it,” he begged again, breath fanning over your naked crotch. You met his eyes again with a defeated look on your face.

“Please…” you whispered.

“Please what? I’ll do anythin’. Tell me what to do,” Michael responded eagerly.

“At least put away the food?” you said, your unsteady tone posing it like a question.

He got up immediately, not leaving one second wasted. He needed you in his mouth much more than he realized. The food was put in tupperware and the smoothies in a freezer-safe pitcher in mere minutes. He washed his hands and returned to his place between your shaky thighs in record time.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he promised. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah you bet– F-fuck!” you exclaimed as he swirled his tongue around your clit expertly. You rolled your hips forward, not caring enough about your precarious position on the countertop. You were nearly straddling his shoulders.

The sounds coming from between your legs were filthy. An orchestra of moans and slurps and spitting. Michael was moaning more than you were.

“Mike- ngh. More,” you begged, much to your own embarrassment.

“Mmm, want my fingers?” he asked, looking up at you with your arousal coating the entire bottom half of his face. God, he looked like living sin.

“Yes,” you whispered.

He removed your legs from his shoulders and lifted you from the counter, making you straddle his waist as he stumbled into the living room. You fell back against the couch with a soft thump, and he sunk back onto his knees.

“Michael, your knees? Don’t they hurt?” you asked, suddenly all too worried about his comfort level. As if he cared.

“No, but I wouldn’t care if they did. I’ll do anythin’ to make you feel good,” he all but confessed. You bit your lip and pressed your thighs together very conspicuously.

“You like that?” he asked in disbelief.

“Mikey, stop! I’m embarrassed,” you exclaimed. “Whatever, you win. Fine, I want it. I want you. Just go down on me again, baby. It’s hurtin’” you whined.

“Yes, ma’am. Gonna make you feel better. ‘M so sorry.”

He dragged you to the edge of the couch by your ankles and put you back in the same position the two of you were in earlier, except you were much comfier on these cushions. He sucked your clit softly, moaning around it like he was the one being devoured. Taking his middle finger, he probed at your sopping hole, collecting its wetness and spreading it on his index like a natural lube. You pushed into his face harder, practically begging for it.

Catching the silent demand, he pushed his middle finger in, testing how much you could take at the moment. Your hole swallowed him like a pill. The ridges inside your sex were like art to him. Greedily, he shoved his index finger in almost immediately after. He started with a curious pace, slow and searching. His fingers expertly hit your g-spot each time, and the way his fingers curled made you feel like desire personified.

“M-Mikey, oh god! It’s– I can’t think..” you babbled honestly. The double stimulation paired with your sexual frustration was making your brain feel limp.

He moaned against you in response, the vibration sending shivers through your abdomen.

“Yes yes yes yes yeeeees, fuck!” you chanted.

You hated that he made you this easy. Usually your resolve was always up, but you’d never felt this needy in your life. You wanted him to have some sort of punishment for taking without permission. The best way to do that was to tease him.

“F-feels so good daddy, your mouth’s fuckin’ me so good.” ‘Daddy’, the name you used to drive him absolutely insane.

Just as you expected, his free hand came up and gripped one of your thighs for support as he furrowed his brows in concentration; surely on not cumming his pants. He drew in ragged breaths in between whimpers.

“Go faster, daddy. ‘M s-so close,” you whined, rocking your pussy against his tongue as he made it flat for you. Michael was sat so rigid beneath you, you were sure he was gonna cut off the circulation to his dick. He drilled his fingers into you at an unforgiving pace, and you swore you were being called to heaven right there.

He closed his mouth back around your cunt and slid his tongue up and down your folds, collecting more arousal, and pooling it around your clit. He sucked with just enough pressure to make you see stars, and you gripped onto his hair brutally.

“M-Mikey! ‘M gonna– Fuck! Cummi–” you crushed his face between your thighs and screamed bloody mary, holding onto his thick locks for grounding. Your orgasm ripped through you like an earthquake, and your body convulsed violently, all that pent up pressure released on your boyfriend’s face and fingers. He curled them inside you as much as he could while your walls clenched and sucked them in.

He kept licking you, too.

After you came down, you let your legs fall limp against him and detangled your fingers from his hair, trying to use your hands to push yourself back. But he wouldn’t stop going.

“Baby, I came. C-come on, ’m sensitive,” you rasped out, your voice hoarse from basically screaming.

Michael ignored you and kept going, seemingly driven by pure lust.

You grabbed ahold of his hair again and attempted to yank him back, but he stiffened his neck defiantly and gripped your thigh harder, keeping you in place. You whimpered loudly. He looked up at you, removed his fingers from inside you, and shoved them into your open mouth.

The angle was awkward, but god was this side of him sexy.

You moaned around his fingers and sucked at them greedily, trying your hardest not to bite down on them because of how sensitive you felt. Tears streamed down your eyes and you were sniffling loudly. The scene was disgusting.

Your hips stuttered against his tongue as he stuffed his thick tongue into your still leaking hole and back to flick at your clit, over and over.

You were crying his name out around his fingers, trying to warn him that you were going to cum again.

He grazed his teeth against your clit just once, very lightly, and you felt the air get knocked completely from your lungs, as your second orgasm tore through your sweaty body. You were almost choking on his fingers, your robe was drooping lazily off your shoulders, and your ears were ringing; your was body completely spent.

Michael removed his fingers from between your lips, but he kept going at your pussy.

“Michael please. C-can’t take it no more. You did good, daddy. You did really good. You made me feel better, baby. Ngh– f-fuck!” you cried out.

He met your eyes, looking at the way thick tears pooled inside of them, and then his gaze fell to your lips, concentrating on how the bottom one trembled as you cried. You looked like a masterpiece. Just one more. He just wanted one more out of you. Giving you a half-apologetic look, he tore his eyes from your dejected gaze, putting his focus on getting you to cum just one more time.

His jaw began to cramp up, and his tongue was nearly going stuck, but he had a point to prove to nobody but himself. Your lower body vibrated erratically, and the friction against his lips made him whine. This is exactly what he dreamed of. Him below you, offering his mouth to you, and you above him, crying out his name like a prayer.

“Mmmnh,” he moaned against your lips. His dick strained painfully in his briefs. He was oozing so much precum that it seemed like he finished in his pants.

“Close. G’na cum,” you mumbled through sobs of overstimulation. Your vision was too blurry to focus on the look of adoration he gave you.

Steeling himself for your release, he pulled you flush against his face, burying his nose into your pelvis, and he circled his sore tongue against your clit fast and hard.

“Michael! I’m–”

Your vision completely blacked out as your core weeped and your eyes silently cried. It felt like every hole in your body was leaking– your eyes with tears, your mouth with drool, your pussy with sticky cum.

Michael, on the other hand, rode you through the whole thing, rubbing his hands down the length of your sweaty thighs and humming softly against your core. He cleaned up every last drop of cum that poured from you. When you slumped back against the cushions, he finally removed his mouth from your sensitive sex with a whine.

His jaw hurt. He tried to apologize for going overboard, but he couldn’t even move his mouth from the pain. Every tiny movement made his jaw lock up even more.

“C’mere,” you mumbled out to him, craving his embrace.

Michael obliged immediately, ignoring the way his dick throbbed between his legs. He laid his head on your half-exposed breasts, listening to your heartbeat steady itself underneath your chest. He strained his neck to give you a tender kiss on your lips, wincing as he tried opening his mouth to deepen it.

“You okay?” you asked him as you jerked away.

“Mhm,” he replied quickly, attempting to connect your mouths again. You sat up on one of your forearms and used your free hand to guide his face up to you.

“Use your words, baby. Need to know you’re feeling okay. I was a lil’ rough with your hair.” You run your fingers through his coily tresses, massaging the his scalp where you tugged the hardest.

“Think I have lockjaw,” he mumbled without disconnecting his lips, making it come out more like ‘thnkhavlockjw’.

“What?” you questioned him, confused as to why he seemed so reluctant to speak. He rubbed his jawline.

“I– mm. Went too hard. My jaw’s tight.” He bit his lip, seeming…proud of himself for that fact.

“You gave yourself lockjaw just to give me three orgasms? You fuckin’ idiot. You’re a singer!” You pushed his face away playfully and then grabbed onto his jaw again, massaging the sides. He opened his mouth wider, stretching it as the muscles loosened up.

“Mhm, n’ it was worth it! I’d go again if you told me to,” he declared proudly, giving you a suggestive look.

“Hell nah, we still have the whole meal I made for us. I’m hungry. You don’t needa be movin’ that mouth for anything except that food,” you quipped at him.

“I’m sorry, mama. You taste real good, though…” he trailed off, leaning in to catch you in another kiss.

“Nope. We are not doin’ this again. Get the fuck up before I buy myself a chastity belt,” you responded with a chuckle, pushing him away from you and stretching your achy limbs. You stood up, tightened your robe, and extended your hand to drag him with you to the kitchen. “Get up.”

“Okay. I love you so much,” he replied like a lovesick puppy as he let you guide him like one. You giggled at his neediness, eyeing his erection.

“Mhm, I’m sure you do. I’m not lettin’ you touch me again until we eat, by the way. And you’re platin’ everything,” you instructed as you reheated the food, handing him porcelain dishes. You grabbed the smoothies out of the freezer and poured them into glasses, handing him one to try. He took a sip and you caught him in a soft kiss when he pulled his cup away.

“And I love you too, angelface.”

Tags: @simp4eshal @urbanfunkchild @slugstarzz @cndybliss @yenvixx @plumppies @lil6uapa @etherealmikeyj @saiki-enthusiast @kottonkanditits @gyuuchuuu @ggformike @cherubae111 @strangerexee @softchaosdiary505 @deynrulesboisdrool @applehead444 @screamthusiast @ilyliberiangrl @thrillerpilled @bevellin777

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[shortnfreaky]

thick mama

request: "husband!michael being a complete fein for wife!reader after getting thick after having kids. it’s so bad that everyone notices and makes jokes about it"

featuring: husband!dad!michael x thick!wife!mom!reader

sypnosis: just read the request, that sums it up lmao

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, reader is thick, a lil suggestive but no actual smut

wc: 824

an: michael would def be absolutely infatuated with how the body changes after pregnancy

masterlist ✶ request page

Your body has changed. After three beautiful babies, it was bound to do that. 

And Michael loved it.

Especially right after you had Paris. 

Prince and Paris were born so close together, that your body had no time to recover much, it only got thicker. Your hips thickened up, your ass became even more plush, and your tits had just about doubled in size. 

Your husband was an absolute fein for it, and everybody around him knew it. He wasn’t exactly subtle with his adoration. Michael would stare at you across the room. If you were near him, one of his hands always found its way onto your hip, softly groping the flesh. He also loved slapping your ass with a boyish grin whenever he came up from behind you. 

His family would constantly make jokes and tease him about it. 

One time at a family function, Michael just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, even when you were on the other side of the room. Janet had noticed it, coming up behind her brother and putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Y’know, I think y/n thickening up has broken you.” She teased with a smile.

Michael just looked at her, huffing out a laugh and shaking his head, before glancing back over at you. He didn’t deny it, because Janet wasn’t wrong. It had broken him, it plagued his mind constantly.

As a couple years passed, you lost a bit of the weight. You still had all the assets, and they were still all definitely bigger than they were before kids, but they were not as plush as before. It was honestly bound to happen with how much you had to chase Prince around, he was one handful of a toddler, always into something. It had saddened Michael a little bit, he missed it. Of course, he would never tell you that, he thought you were beautiful regardless, and he didn’t want you thinking otherwise. It actually physically pained him when you thought otherwise.

Luckily for him though, in 2002 you welcomed your third baby, Blanket. And with that, came all that plushness back. With that also came more jokes from Michael’s family about his obsession with it, but he didn’t care.

You had just put the two month old to sleep for the night, laying him in his crib. For a moment you just stared at him in awe, he truly did look so much like his father. Those darling black tufts of curls on top of his head, dark eyebrows that strikingly resembled Michael’s, even now as just a newborn. Though you couldn’t see them right now, he had those same big doe eyes like his father’s. That might’ve been your favorite part, you found yourself getting lost into Blanket’s eyes all the time. You smiled softly, smoothing down his hair, and murmuring an “I love you”.

When Michael found you, you were in the bedroom. You didn’t notice him come in, too occupied with folding tiny baby clothes on top of the dresser. He came up behind you, pressing into your back, his hands found your hips. You jumped slightly, startled by his sudden appearance. “Jesus, you scared me.” You huff out a laugh. 

Michael hummed, pressing kisses from your neck, down to your shoulder, “‘M sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to scare ya’.” 

“Any trouble getting Prince and Paris to sleep?” You ask, continuing to fold another onesie. 

Michael shakes his head, “Nope, read ‘em a bedtime story, and they were out like a light before I even got halfway through. What about Blanket?” 

“I nursed him and he was out.” You smile softly. 

There’s a beat of silence.

“He’s a lucky lil’ thing.” Michael sighs, his breath fanning over your neck. 

You snort, “What?” 

Michael brings his large hands up to cup your breasts through the material of your shirt, “He gets these pretty things all to himself.” 

You laugh, “Are you serious right now?” 

He nodded against your neck, “Absolutely, you’re just so gorgeous. S’ full in all the right places.” 

“Michael.” You murmur bashfully.

You knew your husband loved how much thicker you had gotten since having three kids. He wasn’t good at hiding how much he loved it, at all. Michael wasn’t inconspicuous with it in the slightest.

“You’re just so soft and pretty right now, mama.” He smiled, one hand splaying across your tummy, which was now soft as one normally is during postpartum. 

“This body gave me three perfect babies, and it still looks as beautiful as ever.” Michael whispered, his tone soft and smooth like always.

You turn around in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as you face him now. You press a kiss to his lips, “I love you.”

“I love you too, forever.” Michael whispers, resting his forehead against yours. 

You feel his hand squeeze your ass, “You’re insatiable, Mr. Jackson.” You shake your head, smiling.

[angelcrescent]

𓈒❤︎︎࣪˖ what happens in the bedroom doesn't always stay in the bedroom!

intro ✴︎⸝꙳.˖𖥔݁˖๋ ( 5.2k ) childhoodbsf!popstar!reader x bad!michael jackson ╱ after a long night of passion between husband and wife, michael mindlessly rips open his shirt onstage, forgetting entirely about the previous night’s evidence sprawled all over his back… now, that’s something for the public to talk about!

notes… 𝟏𝟖+ established relationship. husband n wife of 8 years. begins with transcribed excerpt from an interview together. reader’s transcribed dialogue is signalled by heart symbol. ;; softdom!michael as always. makin’ sweet love til the break of dawn! mikey is shy in the streets n sexy in the sheets. . . light dirty talk. being overheard in the bedroom. hot n passionate sex. he talks u through it. zero protection. creampie. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. kinda babymaking. allusions to pregnancy. aftercare. sleeping while cockwarming. markin’ up ur sweetheart. . .

𝟎𝟐/𝟏𝟑/𝟖𝟗: 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝐾𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑄𝑢𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑃𝑜𝑝 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑤𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑦 𝐵𝑎𝑟𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑊𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛 𝐴𝐵𝐶 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙.

BW: So, we're getting toward the end of our time together today, but I don't think I could've interviewed you both without bringing up a certain picture that's taken the media by storm in the last couple of weeks.

MJ: Oh God... [shy laughter, holding wife's hand tight]

BW: I have to ask!

♥︎: Do you?

BW: Look, I think we're all just very stunned that your husband went out on stage like that. And he could've kept the shirt completely on to cover up the marks, but he chose to rip it open.

MJ: I didn't—no, I'd forgotten all about um... what was on my back. [grinning bashfully]

♥︎: Did you really? [smirks & nudges him, to which MJ nudges back] No, I'm kidding!

BW: Seems like you both had a great night prior to the, uh… display. Would be rather unforgettable instead, surely?

MJ: No, 'm serious. I get so lost in my performances that 'm not thinkin' about anythin’ else. I'm a gentleman—I don't intend to do anything dirty.

♥︎: Ha! [a quick, loud laugh] Who the hell do you think you're kiddin', sir?

MJ: No, baby, you know 'm a gentleman.

BW: Well, from the look of your back in that picture, 'gentle' isn't the word that comes to mind...

♥︎: Oh my— [trying not to laugh with MJ]

BW: You'd still describe yourself as a gentleman?

MJ: I think there's a time an' a place for everything. I'm gentle in most ways. I just never meant to bring the, uh... other stuff to the view of the public. But I also don't think it's the worst thing ever though, right? Think this reaction is a little dramatic...

BW: So, do you both think that sort of thing is okay? You're laughing it off like it's normal to be displaying the extent of your sex life in front of the eyes of millions?

♥︎: [rolls eyes w/ a sigh]

MJ: Uh, well, like I said I didn't inte—

♥︎: Okay, here's the deal. We're husband and wife. Married for eight years too, by the way. This isn't the 1950s—everyone knows what married couples do at home, and as long as we're not doin' that on stage, what's the issue? I mean, Barbara, you seem to love talking about it so much—you're obviously entertained.

BW: But you don't think that what goes on in the bedroom should stay in the bedroom? Man and wife do have sex, yes, but should the public be given access to such intimacy?

♥︎: I wouldn't really call it getting access. Unless anybody has our tapes from the bedroom, they have zero access. And that's why I don't think this is an issue. No matter how 'media trained' I might be, I'm not going to conform to what you guys want me to say on topics like these. I'm sure you'll ask the same questions to Madonna, and Prince, and all the other artists who are extremely sexual onstage, right? Way more explicit than anything my husband and I have done.

BW: You make a good point, however I think it's a little different when there are undertones of the artist's real sexual acts. To my knowledge, Prince hasn't yet gone onstage with streaks of scratch marks down his back for all to see. And you've seen the pictures, they were very harsh scratch marks. It was immediately evident what they were—especially when you then came onstage for the next song and ran your hands over them. We haven't forgotten about that part, and I'm sure someone back there has the video for us to play. What was the point of that? Were you trying to mark your territory? Prove how good the sex is to somebody in particular, or to the world in general?

♥︎: [laughter] ‘Mark my territory?’ No, I was definitely not doing that. I'm very secure in my marriage, I can assure you. I don't need to prove to everybody how incredibly my husband makes love to me—

MJ: No, honey, don't say th—

♥︎: [shoos him with a hand] Oh, whatever, Michael, who cares? [laughs under her breath] As I was saying, we're way too secure to have to rely on showing the public 'proof' that we're sexually active—or whatever it is that you're getting at here. I obviously can't speak for Michael and confirm that he truly did forget about the marks, but I don't appreciate the suggestion that he or I would ever wish to prove the reality of our marriage to the world. We really couldn't care less about what the world thinks. As you've shown us throughout this entire interview, and as we've experienced in every other interview we've ever done, everything is always misconstrued, either deliberately or just because you want to be ignorant.

BW: I do understand that. But we have to ask these questions so that the misconstrued narratives can be corrected, don't we? And with that, we also don't have to agree with everything you state. I personally believe, along with many others, that a married couple bringing the privacy of their bedroom onto the stage is a very uncouth thing to do, and that in doing so, whether unconsciously or not—maybe it was just unconsciously—you have both garnered the controversy that's often necessary to keep your names in the headlines.

MJ: [scoffs]

♥︎: You think we need to try to keep our names in the headlines? Don't be silly, Ms. Walters.

BW: Listen, I know the two of you are always in the media no matter what, but it's not hard for us to believe that you would intentionally do something to further that attention, right?

MJ: Listen, Barbara, we can't leave our house without being mobbed by fans and paparazzi. We could try to disappear entirely from the public eye for months, or even years, and still they would attack us from all ends.

♥︎: [rubbing her thumb over his knuckles] Honey, there's no point. You know they always decide on their narrative and then they run with it, no matter what we say.

BW: Is that how you both feel? That as journalists we'll never truly understand?

♥︎: [speaking solemnly] Are you seriously asking us that question? None of you could ever understand even slightly. I would hope that at least some of our fans might try to, but me and my husband live such an insanely complex life that really, all you can do is continue to only attempt to examine it through your biased lens, poking holes in the tiniest of things. We rarely do interviews for that reason.

BW: I do understand that.

MJ: Y' sure?

BW: Yes, but if there were no journalists and paparazzi to help promote you guys—and the same goes for all the other celebrities out there—you wouldn't be half as celebrated and as widely known as you are now.

♥︎: Well, we can agree to disagree. Now, would you excuse me and my extremely explicit husband while we go off and fornicate in the corner? He needs some inspiration for his next song.

MJ: [squinting shyly & laughing, averting eyes]

BW: Oh, very funny.

♥︎: And maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll hear my sex noises in the background of the next single!

MJ: [eyes widen] Uh, I think we’re done. Thank you for having us today, Ms. Walters.

BW: It was a pleasure…

TWO WEEKS AGO ; 𝓲𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝐨𝐟 𝓳𝒂𝒏𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝟐𝟕, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟗...

"Oh, fuck yes, baby!"

"Honey, don't curse... 's okay, y' close again, huh?"

Michael cooed in your ear as he rocked into you with harsh abandon, slamming his hips against yours with each thrust. His thumb rubbed tight circles over your clit as he had you practically folded in half, your legs spread wide in a V-shape, and pushed up between where his body was a protective cage above you. They'd been up on his shoulders a moment ago, and you were so fucked out that you hadn't even registered the position he'd guided you into, only able to focus on the euphoric pleasure hitting your sweet spot every other second.

"Mikey, y'hittin' it so good, ohhh—right there, baby, keep goin'—"

The two of you had been at it for several hours, impossible in your haze to pinpoint an exact number. You'd lost count of how many orgasms you'd had, and you were honestly beginning to wonder if your body had any left in you. Biologically, how many orgasms could a woman actually produce in one night? You surely were breaking some sort of record here. Almost eleven years together, and while in those years you'd had many a night filled with sex, you were certain it had never been to this extent.

Tonight had been the night prior to Michael's final performance of the Bad world tour. You'd been touring throughout Europe yourself since Christmas, so before now you hadn't indulged in a night together in an entire month. The tour was concluding in Los Angeles, and therefore that meant that Michael had been back home in your shared mansion for the last eleven days during the residency.

Your three kids were currently being looked after by Katherine at Hayvenhurst, because she guessed that you and Michael would want your first night back together to be spent alone. So earlier on, you'd surprised him backstage as soon as he finished his second-to-last concert, and then immediately you were whisked away, nestled dreamily in your silk-laden king-sized bed, draped in pale pink, waiting almost no time at all to be filled to the brim with what you’d been craving since the last time you had the privilege of being fucked into the mattress by your husband. That last night had felt like a century ago now.

You knew exactly how lucky you were, but still you couldn't fathom that this was your reality, especially because you often looked to those days back in the seventies when Michael was the most inexperienced virgin in existence. You'd shown him the initial tips and pointers regarding sex, particularly with demonstrating how his eager mouth should perform oral, but over the years he'd exceeded performing the mere basics. And now you wondered if it was even possible that there could be a man on this earth more sexually skilled than Michael Jackson, because he gave you everything and more. It couldn’t be put into enough adequate words how perfect he was. Each roll of his hips felt like an ascension to the heavens, and my God, had you ascended tonight...

"Yeah, right there, mama?" he whispered through high groans, kneading your breast now and taking the hand that was rubbing your clit up to your thigh to hold it in place. "I know, baby girl... been hittin' it jus' right since we got home... whatever my girl wants..."

"Mhm, oh angel, 'm gonna cum—" you whined, hands gripping at the sticky sheets beneath you. The room smelled entirely of the warm musk of sex, with a hint of the clean sweat scent dripping from Michael's face and upper body; and of course where the element of sound was concerned, such was an amalgamation of moans, loud creaking, and the rough hit of the headboard banging against the wall with each thrust. Surely this piece of furniture would soon break, you thought; but you wouldn't say the concern aloud, because what kind of crazy woman would you be to say something that might have the potential to disrupt such mindnumbing pleasure?

"Ugh, God—rub y' clit, baby, I can't do everythin' at once," he murmured into your neck as he licked and sucked the most sensitive inch of the skin.

You did as he asked you to, bringing two fingers to your incredibly sensitive bud and massaging over it fiercely, desperate to reach your millionth orgasm of the night. Michael's strokes were getting erratic now, and he grunted profusely in your ear, big hands roaming everywhere. You took hold of one, interlocking your fingers, and you felt him smile against your ear, before pulling back to kiss you sloppily.

"Mm, tha's it, angel girl, yeah... keep holdin' my hand, 'm gonna get y' there..."

"Oh Mikey... baby, 's too much, I—ohhhhh—"

Your other hand now felt strangely limp, adjacent to a muscle cramp that made the movements over your clit virtually useless. So aggressively horny, you realised you were rubbing so hard that it was making the twist of your wrist uncomfortable, so with that hand you now instead wreathed that hand through your baby's curls, damp with sweat. You tugged on the lower ends of the strands, dragging his face down by his jaw to lick your tongue into his mouth, humming profanities that he always condemned.

"What did I say, hm? Pretty honey, I don't like when y' curse—oh—"

"Michael, you're—ughhhh—fucking me so—mm—dumb right now, I don't even know what I'm sayin'—"

"I know, I know..." he grinned, as he lifted your leg impossibly higher now, and drove into you with somehow even more force.

"Shit, baby—ohhhh my God—oh, 's so good! I can't believe this is real life..."

Your head lolled sideways onto the pillows, back arching as he fed an unbelievable degree of white hot pleasure into your aching body. Surely you wouldn't be capable of walking tomorrow, but you were an incredibly athletic dancer after all, and needed to be onstage for two duets to conclude Michael's tour, so unfortunately you'd have to grin and bear it.

"Been fuckin' you like this for years, honey... Not doin’ nothin’ different…” Michael moaned, head thrown back in euphoria, though pressing forward again to watch the sight of your breasts and the milky white ring around his cock that appeared each time he pulled back to thrust deeper.

"’n I never—shit—I never get used to it, babyyyyy, oh my—"

"Cum for me, beautiful... aw, my perfect lady, need t' feel it, c'mon..."

Your husband's forehead was now settled against yours, his sweat dripping into the beads running down your own face, and he'd never looked so fucking beautiful. The liquid appeared like glistening holiness on a face and an expression so inconceivably angelic, and his hand moved to cradle your jaw as he smiled through the ecstasy.

Your own face felt as limp as your hand had done, where it felt near impossible to say anything with intention; and Michael understood, knowing just how delirious you were after so much mind-blowing sex. And it wasn't merely the act of sex that was exhausting after so many rounds—it was Michael himself, the way Michael performed sex. He did nothing by halves, as was obvious in the way he produced his art, and in his eyes lovemaking was without a doubt the most meaningful, celestial art form in existence, no matter how filthy he had a tendency to make it.

But Michael believed nothing could be filthy that had you at the forefront, and he had carried that same sentiment into this night, a night complete with the sort of thing his mother had spent his entire youth deeming as pure sin. His most cherished sight was to see you reach your climax, and as you came undone yet again in his arms—in equal timing as the spilling of his seed into your welcoming heat—he held you so tight, rubbing his warm thumb over your cheek, gripping your shaky hand with his protection while your body seized and unraveled. He talked you through the comedown, as always, and now the sun was just beginning to come up—dawn was breaking through the silk curtains—so hints of gold and purple shone down all over your body.

In Michael’s eyes, that drapery of colour rendered you the most divine goddess he had ever laid eyes on. He understood in that moment—in the presence of the universe's morning light entwining with your natural, inherent beauty—that this was the most perfect experience involved in last night’s decision to make love until day began.

"So beautiful f'me, baby..." he whispered with the utmost sincerity, slowing his thrusts as he peppered the softest kisses all over your face and returned to knead your tender breasts, one at a time while you caught your breath. That was a specific thing Michael did a lot, providing a gentle massage that although didn't feel gentle in your overstimulation, always worked to calm you.

"Yeah, feel me, sweet girl... love y' so much, mama... my perfect angel..."

As gentle and tender as he never could retreat from, Michael adjusted your overexerted body so that you now lay on your side, with him also sideways, nose to nose with you. He didn't pull out, because he knew you'd whine, and of course he'd always rather stay with his body merged into yours. He kissed you softly, and continued to stroke his hands up and down your body, squeezing your ass, your thighs, and again your breasts, of course. Both of you had impeccable stamina because you were top-quality performers, but it was often the case that even just one orgasm could make you sleepy, let alone as many as Michael had given you in these last few hours. And you hadn't stopped for breath throughout each, so he assumed that now you must surely be done, therefore deciding that he'd give you aftercare until you drifted off into a slumber.

And yet despite all that, miraculously you felt in your heart and in your lower abdomen that you still weren't finished with him.

"Y'want me to run a bath for us, mama?" Michael whispered, pressing soft pecks to your nose and lips as his slender fingers caressed your torso and pulled you close to him, gently dragging your leg over his thigh, before running his hand up and down its softness.

You hummed in content, not even registering his question.

"Y' all spent now, hm?" he tried again, with a small smile at how completely blissed out you looked in front of him.

"Don't want you to pull out, baby..." you sighed deliriously, wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with his curls.

"Oh, but I need to, honey, if you want that bath..."

You did want a bath with your husband, but the mere thought of how it felt to sit between his legs in the water, back against his naked chest, soft member certain to rise against your lower back... it only made your arousal return close to violently. What had gotten into you tonight? Ovulation, probably. But absolutely no protection had been used, so that might prove to be a problem.

"I don't know what I want," you whined. "I want your dick..."

Michael's eyes widened in surprise, and he answered with a chuckle. "Y'want it some more? For real, mama? I don't wanna break this bed. Or you..." He furrowed his brows with genuine concern about your comfort. "Think you're way too sensitive right now, girl—aren't ya?"

"No, Mikey, 'm fine... Want it again... Love how you fill me, baby."

Now you were really just babbling nonsense, but you had to make him see that you were totally serious—unfortunately for your body and its inevitable incapabilities the following day.

"Alright, if you're sure," Michael laughed, kissing your nose. You felt him twitch inside you, and on instinct you bit your lip and shut your eyes tight.

"The sun's comin' up, mama. Been deep in this tight pussy for hours 'n hours..."

Playfully, he delivered a sudden thrust into your sweet spot, and your nails dug into his biceps with a sharp sigh. "Honey, don't... Don't tease."

"Just messin' with y', sweetheart. But first I need to get y' a glass of water, 'cause you’ll be dehydrated. I really put y' through that mattress." He chuckled softly, still gazing into your tired eyes.

"Nooo," you protested, squinting in frustration as you pawed at his upper back.

"Yes. Don't argue w' me—I'll be back in just two minutes, okay?"

"Whatever," you nodded, visibly irritated, but you knew he was right. Having gone the last few hours without water was akin to doing a several-hour workout without a single sip. You definitely needed to replenish your electrolytes, and you knew Michael would make the relevant decision to mix in Celtic sea salt too, to serve that purpose.

To your dissatisfaction, he finally pulled out, the wet pop sound serving as a serious bother to your desperate nervous system, despite how you knew he would be back inside you in under five minutes. A filthy stream of his release slipped out in slow drops between your thighs, coating the sheets beneath, and you made a mental note to make sure you cleaned that up in the morning before the maid unfairly had to.

The whine that left your throat as he disconnected made him shake his head with an amused laugh. He tapped your cheek and kissed your temple, before jumping up out of bed and shrugging on some sweatpants.

Your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head at the sight before you. First, there was the quick glimpse of his ever-hard, aching cock standing up against his stomach, decorated in veiny ridges, the glistening tip resting against his belly button before he tucked it into the grey cotton. Second, there was the view of that same beautifully enormous cock now poking up so harshly against said fabric that his decision to even slip into the sweatpants was rendered useless.

But thirdly, there was the wildest sight of all. Now, to preface, this wasn't the first time that the following had occurred after a passionate night, but you'd never seen it so starkly feral before. That third sight being, of course, the existence of seemingly never-ending bright red streaks of scratch marks running down the plane of your husband's back, and in their depth it felt surprising that you hadn't accidentally drawn blood. He looked as though he'd been mauled and attacked by a wild animal, and that wasn't all too inaccurate, really, as you'd certainly spent tonight behaving like such an animal, so savage and undomesticated with the way you grabbed and pawed at your man relentlessly. You couldn't help it.

As Michael stood up, adjusting the waistband of his sweats, he muttered something to you with a grin. "My entourage are gonna be sick of us..."

Immediately, your face squinted into something of concern. Aloud you gasped as you suddenly learned what you had unfairly been left unaware of.

Indeed, Michael's entire entourage were staying in your house. They were sleeping in various rooms, from the top floor to the bottom, and had been doing so all week of the LA shows. But of course since you'd only just returned to California this afternoon right before the show, and had jumped on your husband with so much aroused aggression immediately upon the show's closing, you hadn't paid attention to anyone else. Michael had made the generous offer to allow his team to stay with him rather than book hotel rooms, since your mansion was more than big enough, but it definitely would've helped for him to have told you so! Clearly it hadn't slipped his mind, and he didn't seem at all bothered by their presence, despite having spent literally all night ploughing into you as loud as ever. He stunned you the way he could be so shy in so many circumstances, and so the very opposite in others.

"Wh—? Michael? What do you mean, your fuckin' entourage?"

He only shook his head with a smile, strolling up to the door, dick still pressing up very visibly against his pants. The early sun was shining perfectly over the print, and it made for the most delightful image.

"Shh, 's okay; y'know they're used to it from whenever we've been with 'em in hotels."

"Michael, we're never that loud in hotels. We were insane tonight, what the f—?"

"Aht," he quietened your cursing before it had a chance to leave your lips. "Whatever, baby. I'll be back in a minute. Play with your clit f'me while y' wait."

You laid there in sheer disbelief, heart hammering with the embarrassment of having sounded like such a filthy slut for hours on end, and with the guilt of almost definitely disrupting their sleep. How would you face them all tomorrow? Michael could be such a mischievous dick sometimes.

Biting your lip in frustration, you pictured his naked image again, how excited you were for him to come back and give it to you all over again—a little quieter this time, or an attempt at quieter—and with a giddy, ditsy smile, you reached a hand down to prepare yourself for what would have to be the final round. Surely.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Michael had come face-to-face with Bill, who had also opted to hydrate, although for the opposite reason.

"You guys finally stopped now?" Bill asked, a slight despair in his tone, but amused all the same.

"No," Michael smiled bashfully, pouring a glass of pure filtered water for himself first. For the duration, he maintained a stance in the corner by the wall that concealed the monster he was packing beneath. Of course privacy had been a foreign word to Michael tonight, but nevertheless, it disturbed him that Bill of all people might see his erection so up close.

"What, is this just a short pause for refreshments before you resume with round one hundred million? How many times, kid? Jesus! I knew you had great stamina but... shit, man."

The younger man shrugged, still smirking as he downed the glass. But then Bill walked from where he'd been standing at Michael's side, to behind him, just to put back his glass on the counter, but with that, encountering something that had him almost speechless.

The marks.

Tonight—or this morning, rather—Michael was a walking picture of sex. His now-frizzy curls had been tugged in all different directions; the bottom half of his face was wrecked with faint lipstick stains; his neck was savagely adorned with deep, bordering on unhealthy-looking lovebites; and aside from the boner he’d done well so far to hide from Bill, there was also another element that you hadn't yourself noticed in the bedroom. The newborn light hadn't been gleaming brightly enough over every area of Michael's body, so while it had shone the perfect spotlight over the marks on his back, it had failed to portray to you the product of your gnawing nails all over his chest. There were faint marks on his biceps, but they were surprisingly not a match for how intense the ones on his chest were. They matched those of his back profile, which Bill was staring in astonishment at.

"Michael, what in the name of—? Damn, what are you doin' to her up there that's got her markin' you up like this?"

Michael's eyes widened upon hearing that Bill had seen the extent of your vicious attack, but he turned casually and laughed, now having poured a second glass for you. He opened up a cupboard and took out the salt.

But now Bill had noticed the other thing. Michael was incredibly naive to assume he could've really hidden a whole erection throughout this entire conversation all the way to his journey back up the twisted staircase. For most men it was a struggle to cover up, but for Michael it was just impossible to. He was insanely huge.

"Oh God," Bill groaned at the sight of what couldn't possibly be obscured beneath Michael's sweats. "Well, I didn't see that when you first walked in. That why you won't look at me properly?"

Michael's head whipped to the side, to look in confusion at the man who he deemed his literal father figure.

"Huh?" he squinted, before seeing where Bill's gaze went. "Oh—uh, oh my God, yeah, I didn't want y' to see that, but y'know I can't really help it, so..."

Bill chuckled, shaking his head as he turned from him and walked over to the centre counter. "You're crazy, kid. You plannin' to go 'til sunrise or somethin'?"

"Whatever my lady wants," Michael hummed as he stirred the salt into your tall glass. "What time is it now? The sun's already comin' up a little."

"It's," Bill checked the watch on his wrist, "5.22."

"For real?" Michael snapped his head around, then snapped it back forward immediately afterward when he remembered he'd rather not be looking at his second father right now.

"Yup. But you didn't get back 'til around eleven thirty, so six hours you've been goin' at it for."

Michael's mouth dropped open. He knew he had excellent stamina, and that you did too, but he couldn't believe that neither of you were ready to go to sleep yet. This night was certainly one he'd title as magical, although it never took much for Michael to class a night with you as part of that category of experience.

Now done with preparing your glass, he began walking back over to the door leading out into the hall, and Bill kept his distance, refusing to look ahead.

"Is there another baby on the way, Mike?"

"I don't know—we'll have to wait 'n see. We're not plannin' on it but we also aren't tryna prevent it either."

"Man, you sure sound like you're plannin' on it, goddamn."

Michael only laughed, leaving the room to make his way back upstairs and into your arms.

He sat you on his lap, let you rock over his heavy, clothed bulge while you sipped the water, refusing to resume the sex until you were properly hydrated. And then you bounced on his cock for what felt like another beautiful lifetime, even more ethereal now as your body glowed with the rise of the sun while you worked your dancer's hips, movements always guided by your man. How you had the energy to ride cowgirl after all those hours was beyond you, but it was one of your most favourite positions, and when you did inevitably begin to falter and feel a little dizzy with the overexertion as you neared your climax, Michael took over, ordering you to now do nothing but rest over him, while he thrusted upward in long, deep strokes. Alongside that provision of pleasure, he murmured sweet nothings in each ear, squeezing your breasts, expressing all his devotion.

Yet again, his hot seed hit deep into your womb, and you fell asleep the way you'd missed so much—with him still inside you, the milky substance having more than enough opportunity to explore your walls and keep its place there for conception.

Neither of you had spoken seriously about having another child, and it really wasn't practical for your careers at this stage; but the idea of a fourth baby had always existed in the background of your conversations, in the subtext of Michael's excitement whenever he would see you hold someone else's newborn, or how you would both gush over the adorable sight of the tiniest clothing; or even in the sadness you both expressed at how quickly your children were growing.

If you did happen to have conceived a child sometime during this passionate night, it was doubtful that either of you would regret such reckless, continual insemination.

angelcrescent © 2026 ˖ ࣪🥡🥢⁺˖꙳◦🐚 ╱ inspired by this thought and the picture that accompanied it… ;)

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[theonlyonlinefish]

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠| 𝐌.𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧

Synopsis: Jealousy got the best of you, and one harmless flirt was all it took to push Michael past his limit. What was supposed to make him chase you only leaves you facing consequences you didn’t expect.

Warnings: 18*, smut, jealousy, teasing, fingering, depriving kink, slight penetration, begging, submission, and receiving oral

A/N: I accidentally deleted the request moving too damn fast but enjoy 😩

The front door slammed shut behind the two of you, making you flinch where you stood. Michael hadn’t uttered a single word since the event ended. Every attempt you’d made to apologize or spark a conversation during the drive home had been met with complete silence. One glance at the tight set of his jaw told you everything you needed to know—he was furious

As he got closer to you by the sound of his loafers hitting the marbled floor, he wrapped one arm around your waist and roughly pulling you into his. Gasping at the sudden movement, feeling his lips connect with your ear followed by heavy breathing and soft kisses.

As much as you wanted to melt into his presence you knew Michael well enough to know that this was a trick

He moved your hair to the side and unzipped your dress while kissing your back and snatching it off, watching it fall to your feet. Next he undid his tie throwing it on the floor , snapping his fingers and pointed at the edge of the wooden table in the dining room

Now standing in between your legs he aggressively grabbed you by your thighs and wrapped them around his waist before placing three of his fingers in your mouth until you gagged, biting his lips and smirking as if he enjoyed it before pulling them out slowly and dragging them down your body

“Michael can you forgive me?” You begged

Again, your words falling on deaf ears as he ignored you

Instead he used his wet fingers to rub the outside of your pussy, studying your reaction as he provided slow and gentle circulation. The more you reacted to his actions the more he sped up , using those same wet fingers to now penetrate you—watching your jaw drop and gasp at his efforts

His fingers were now pumping in and out of you , you moaning like crazy and allowing your head to drop. That was until Michael grabbed you by your face “Did I give you permission to look away?” You shook your head no slowly , attempting to kiss his thumb before he moved it away

“Do you know much you embarrassed me tonight? Huh?”

“I’m sorry” you whispered

“I didn’t ask for an apology” thrusting his fingers in you and letting them rest as he finished his sentence. Purposely hitting your g-spot

Your body betrayed you, jolting at the sudden sensation. Heat rushed to your face as embarrassment settled in

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you”

While the two of you attended a friend of Michael’s birthday party, you became jealous because you believed that an old friend of his was flirting with him. It felt like the moment you turned away from him, she approached. So to get back at Michael you sat at the bar and allowed a gentleman besides you to buy you a drink

It felt as though you could feel Michael’s gaze burning into the back of your head. By the time you finally turned around, his warm brown eyes had gone cold, hardened with unmistakable anger

He had witnessed the entire interaction from across the room, and judging by the tightness in his jaw, he didn’t wanna talk at the party. Instead he quietly collected you and walked out of the party without so much as a goodbye, leaving guests to watch the two of you disappear.

“And you did this because what? You think I’m stupid enough to allow another woman to disrespect you like that?”

“No baby” you whimpered

Judging by how tight your walls had gotten around his fingers he knew that your orgasm was approaching, causing him to look down at the fluids gushing out of you. He hissed to himself thinking about how wonderful you’d feel around his dick, but he couldn’t allow you to get away with such bratty behavior

As his picked up his face you grabbed onto the collar of his suit for support as you orgasmed, leaving a fresh glistening coat over his fingers—watching him gleam as he sucked on them right before entering his fingers back inside of you. Feeling how tight you walls were now compared to just a few seconds ago

“I had one conversation. One. But you allow a man who’s obviously interested in you to sit in your face and fuck you with his eyes and buy you a drink? He couldn’t even keep his eyes off your cleavage for two seconds”

Your eyes were sealed tightly and your breathing was limited as you tried to focus on not cumming so quickly—but it was so hard to fight the urge because of how good your husband looked tonight, him looking so angry only made it worse because it was a side in him you didn’t see often. You could’ve came right now just by looking at his face and how tight he kept his jaw clenched

“You wanted to make me jealous didn’t you?”

You hesitated, looking at the ground to avoid his gaze. Until his fingers were back under your chin

“Yes” swallowing the lump in your throat

He smirked devilishly before licking his lips, pressing his fingers against your g-spot making you gasp and eyes twitch as your body went into overload. Moaning louder than ever before and watching as your perspective of Michael be clouded by your tears

“It was stupid, I shouldn’t have done that baby I’m so sorry”

He bit on your bottom lip as he sped up his pace, toying with his fingers inside of you just before you came for the second time. His thumb pressing firmly into your clitoris while sliding his 3 fingers inside of you and keeping his pinky slightly against your perineum, your sweet spot

You sealed your eyes tight as ever as your body shook repetitively, crying out for your husband and clawing at his back with your nails. Michael could feel your moans vibrating from your mouth and into his

“Baby please slow down—I need a break” you panted

You leaked like never before, the puddle that Michael manifested outside of you had you shocked and slightly embarrassed that he had such power over you. At some point you started to bite on your own fingers to fight your urges. Your nipples we’re so hard that any brushing he did against them made you moan, as if that was your way of telling him to keep going

He smirked retrieving his fingers from you, refusing to break eye contact as he dragged his tongue to the top of his fingers before sucking off your juices, grunting and growing stiffer than ever in his pants

“You see what you do to me?” Referring to his boner “and you think I want somebody else?”

You watched as he unbuckled his pants and pulled his dick out, licking his lips at you while stroking himself. Your eyes trailed down his body as you watched some of his pre cum leak out with each stroke and hitting the floor

“You want a taste don’t you?” He asked kissing along your jawline

“Yes, yes please” you anxiously answered

“If only you would’ve behaved tonight, I had a full night planned for us. Whatever you wanted to do” he chuckled softly

Taking his tip he rubbed it in a circular motion, groaning at the sensation of your wet and warm entrance against his tip. Shutting his eyes for a few moments before regaining his composure and pressing his lips to your ear

“You heard me baby? I would’ve done whatever you told me to do. Please you for however long you wanted me to, make love to you the way you like and wouldn’t have stopped until you were ready for me to cum inside you”

“I’ll do whatever to make it right baby please, I’m sorry for what I did—it didn’t mean anything”

Michael leaned you back slightly at an angle as he focused on rubbing his dick in between your lips continuously. Makings lots of “ouuu” sounds feeling your wetness consume him, legging his head fall back and grunting at the sensation “fuck, you’re leaking on me”

Pulling his head forward Michael grabbed you by your face and forced you to look down at his dick, feeling him press his dick into your clitoris continuously sending an electrifying sensation through your body

Watching as his fluids mixed with yours as it created a bigger mess underneath you. Tears weeping from your eyes as the stimulation became too much

“Michael baby please” exhaling deeply before your next sentence “Can you just fuck me already?”

Michael caught himself enjoying it more than what he realized. This was only supposed to be a punishment for you, his hips began to thrust harder as his grip around his dick sharpened , still not taking his eyes off of you

“That’s the problem, I always give you what you want. That’s why you thought it was okay to act the way you did tonight—now I gotta break you from that”

Tears finally fell from your face as your legs began to tremble “Baby I’m sorry I’m so sorry for what I did” you begged

He groaned at the sound of your soft words and attempt to gain his forgiveness. Just then he took a step back and jerked himself off aiming at your entrance “oh fuck, fuck” he whispered to himself as he watched his cum cover your entrance and lips. Watching it slowly drip down and saturate the area

Slowly he regained his composure, getting his breathing under control before he gently pressed his lips into yours. Turning his head to the side to gain better access to your tongue and gently suck it before retreating and planting soft kisses on your lips, shutting his eyes as the two of you moaned like crazy for each other. Wrapping your arms around his neck and his hands snuck around your waist

“Let’s get you cleaned up” he whispered kissing your ear softly

A few minutes later the two of you were standing underneath the hot running water, still engulfed in one another. Michael holding you by your butt and caressing your cheeks as you kept your arms around his neck. The two of you just staring at one another in between the on and off making out

“Do you forgive me now?”

Michael smirked as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip “I forgave you a long time ago”

“Thank you”

You pulled Michael into another deep kiss as you gently lead him to the seat inside of the shower , breaking the kiss to get on your knees and submit to your husband. Grabbing his dick and kissing it while rubbing your tongue along various spots

“Because now it’s my turn”

Taglist: @diorzaep @mikeysfavoritefish @mikeysfishfr @michaeljacksonspyt @j-nae @botdfaholic @18lkpeters @loveposiie

dm to be tagged

[cinnafaith]

Michael Jackson !

Size difference

content ! 18+, unprotected p in v, praise, sweet sex, pet names (baby, honey)

"fuck!" you cry, throwing your head back and letting your jaw go slack. michael is pistoning his hips against yours relentlessly, the only sounds in the room being the lewd skin slapping and the heavy panting and moans emitting from both of you.

"i know, honey" he coos, trying his best to be sweet verbally despite how rough he's being with you physically. "m'sorry babygirl" he tries.

the stretch was borderline excruciating. he was just too big. the funny part is he doesn't even know he's that big! or atleast he didn't know it until you started screaming complaining about it.

"s'too big, michael!" you mewl, squirming under him, but you can't help but arch into him. it's almost instinctive.

"just breathe, baby... breathe" maybe he should take his own advice, because he's barely able to take in a full breath with just how tight your gummy walls are squeezing and fluttering around him.

"i- can't-" the pleasure becomes overwhelming when michael reaches in between the both of you to aimlessly rub at your clit, anything to get you to stop whining. he immediately notices your eyes roll back and your breath hitch. "s'that better honey?" he asks, "that feel a little better?" you nod frantically, barely able to compute his sweet words as you feel yourself growing closer and closer to coming undone. the sniveling and the cries coming from you morph into delighted moans as the stretch becomes euphoric, his praises egging you on impossibly.

"there she is" he purrs, a small, knowing smirk playing on his face.

"there's my girl" he litters your face with small kisses in an effort to calm you down as he continues his thrusts, growing closer to the edge himself.

"g-gosh- baby," he groans, his big fingers still working at your clit.

"feels s'good michael!" you moan, right at the edge. "yeah?" he moans right back at you. "that feels good, huh?" he speeds up his thrusts, making you squeal. "feel me so deep, yeah?" he looks down and sees himself poking through your lower belly. he reaches down and presses on the bulge, making you wince at the tightness. the bulge is disappearing and reappearing with every thrust. "shi-shoot, honey" he mutters.

you feel the white hot band in your tummy snap, pleasure shooting through your body as you cry out his name. that alone is enough to push him over the edge as well. he cums deep inside you, fucking into you a few last times. you both lay there, panting. he's heavy on top of you, laying sweaty on top of you (not that you mind). and of course, michael is quick to comfort you.

he pushes some of the hair out of your face, off of your damp, flushed skin. "you did so good, baby... m'sorry i was so rough" he speaks gently, kissing your forehead.

you're gonna be so sore tomorrow.

[theonlyonlinefish]

Baby I LOVE your writing. I have a freaked out thought, walk with me here please 😩 using a vibe on sub!michael and overstimulating him…

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡| 𝐌.𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧

You and Michael lay shoulder to shoulder in your bed, quietly staring up at the neon stars scattered across your ceiling. It had been years since you’d last seen each other, yet somehow, being together again felt effortless—as if no time had passed at all

Michael was the sweetest person you’ve ever met, sometimes you worried about his kindness being taken advantage of because he wore his heart on his sleeve

The two of you were now facing each other, you watched Michael kiss your hands repeatedly as you roamed your fingers through his hair

“Can I ask you something Peach?”

You earned the nickname “Peach” from Michael when the two of you were kids. Every spring, his mother grew peaches in the backyard, and you’d eat so many that everyone started teasing you about it. They were your favorite fruit, Michael stopped calling you by your real name

“Yes?” You replied

“Don’t laugh at me but…do you ever” he paused “get an urge down there?”

“What kind of urge Michael?”

His eyes left yours for a moment, feeling embarrassed by the conversation but truthfully you were the only person that he trusted to talk about this with

“The kind of urge that makes you want to do stuff”

“Ohh—you’re talking about that” you lightly chuckled “We all feel that way Michael it’s normal”

“So what do you do when you feel that way? How do you make it stop?”

“You really wanna know?” You asked watching Michael nod his head

Curiosity peaking his interest, so much so that you caught his dick twitching through his pants. Licking your lips before turning returning your eye contact

“Whenever I feel that way, I touch myself until I have an orgasm”

Judging by Michael’s lack of response it only allowed you to believe that he was also inexperienced in this aspect

“And—you don’t feel guilty?”

“It’s normal Michael, we’re human and we all have an urge sometimes”

“Can you teach me? Please?” He pleaded

You smiled and kissed Michael on his forehead before pushing him back on the bed

“Can you take these off for me?”

You watched Michael reach for the button on his jeans and slowly pulled them off before you reached in your drawer and grabbed your pink vibrator. He seemed nervous as he watched your movements

“Just relax for me okay?”

You kissed his ear softly causing him to shudder, just the sensation of your lips on his body sent a chill down his spine. Every little touch from you caused him to leak out further, so much so that you were able to use it as a lubricant to stroke him

Feeling your warm hands around his dick as you kissed his neck continuously. His hands immediately clasped onto your arms and his stomach caved in as you progressed through touching Michael “Oh god—oh god” he whimpered

You stopped for a few seconds to turn on your vibrator, watching Michael squirm around and grow nervous “What are you gonna do with that?”

Pressing your vibrator against his tip his body immediately recoiled, the grasp he had on you tightened and he moaned louder feeling the constant vibrations being sent from his tip to his base

“How does it feel Michael?”

“I—It feels so good, it feels like I have to pee” he announced

“Good” you smirked while turning up the speed on the vibrator

Slowly you circulated it around his tip watching his squeal and squirm “Please I need to release this”

You watched as Michael licked his lips and tried to touch himself, just before you swatted his hand away

“You can’t cum until I say so” you commanded

Michael’s whimpering had only gotten stronger, breaking out into a sweat on his forehead trying to fight his natural instincts “Please can I cum?” He begged

Instead of replying you started kissing the back of his ear and down his neck while turning up the speed on the vibrator “Almost baby” you smirked

He continued to exhale deeply , licking his lips and turning his face towards yours “Can you kiss me please?”

“Only because you beg so sweetly”

Your tongue dragged over his bottom lip, he was so eager for your touch that he leaped forward trying to connect your lips with his “s-sorry” he moaned

As you connected your lips with his and allowing him to stick his tongue in your mouth he began moaning uncontrollably. Hands gripping the sheets and applying pressure against your lips with his teeth, the two of you twirling your tongues around one another until you felt tears from Michael’s face connecting with yours

“Baby what’s wrong??” You asked

“I—really wanna cum, I’m leaking all over you right now” he whined

Turning your head towards his tip you realized the mess Michael was making on your bed “Can I taste it first? Then I’ll let you cum”

Michael nodded his head giving you permission and watched you lean in and the wet sensation of your mouth sucking on just his tip caused him to cry out for more, you rubbed his thighs as his cum started to release. Watching his body jerk repetitively while he thanked you over and over again with tears spilling from his eyes

You continued to suck on his tip until you were sure he was done, each whimper and moment of gratitude only made you want to keep going. Taking your dominant hand and stroking his dick while keeping your lips sealed around his tip but this time a lot slower. It only took a few minutes before he came again, this time a lot more dramatic and intense than the first orgasm

You grabbed a rag to wipe your face before returning to clean Michael off, he covered his face in his hands while you did this. Too embarrassed to show himself after cumming back to back and begging the way he did

“I can’t believe I did that” he sighed

“But it felt good didn’t it?” Kissing his forehead and watching him bury his face into the crook of your neck

“It was phenomenal—this might sound crazy but I think I wanna do it again, but with your tongue instead”

The remainder of the evening the two of you explored each other’s bodies. Both of you surprised in a new talented that Michael discovered with his tongue, managing to make you cum so quickly and his new fascination with watching you orgasm. Even allowing you to fuck his face while he masturbated. Meanwhile you quickly grew a passion for making him orgasm until he begged you to stop. The two of you growing a fascination for the other

Taglist : @mikeysfishfr @mikeysfavoritefish @michaeljacksonspyt @botdfaholic @j-nae @18lkpeters @diorzaep 💋🍽️🎙️

[doemj]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ BREAK A SWEAT

michael arrives home from a demanding music video filming day and enters absolutely fatigued, wanting nothing but to kiss you all over, however, placing you on his lap as he did so affected him more than he thought.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ 18+ mdni

7.3k　 ﹒ 　thriller michael ᱒ 𝒻.rea CONTAINS　 ﹒ 　( smut w little plot )　softdom!mj ( i think.. ), established relationship, oral ( m&f ) munch mikey >⁄ ⁄ < crying, dry humping, riding, spit as lube, stomach bulge, insecurities, no use of y/n, unprotected ( wrap your willy! dont be silly! ) creampie, aftercare

your home, once scented tobacco, smells of musk and skin when michael enters sapped, and from afar, bleary.

the click of the door lock pulls your attention from the tv to his beat face, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead and back, clinging to his white tee, creating transparent patches and the faithful impression of how weary he is.

you grab onto the back of the couch as you twist your torso to earn a better view, and at that moment, his tired gaze makes its way to you.

previously half-lidded, his eyes ever so slightly widen at the sight of you clad in nothing but an oversized shirt and panties, because in all sincerity: you didn’t expect him to arrive home so early. it’s usually early mornings to past midnight with michael's schedules, yet it’s only 8 pm.

rising to your feet, your brows crease in worry as he walks over to the couch. “baby,” you breathe, hands reaching out to help him. as he moves closer, his panting grows more evident as well as the scent of sweat and the faint smell of his lingering perfume. only then did your nose take in the scent. “what—”

he nears and takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together and gently squeezing as he collapses himself onto the plush cushions and pillows of the couch, pulling you down with him, though with a lighter landing.

a content sigh escapes him as if he only just revived his memory to breathe. leaning closer, you can hear faint sounds of him panting through his headache; the way it catches in his throat and he has to swallow to breathe properly again; one breath being light, and the other grows heavy to then heavy again and so on; the way he expels a low moan during lighter exhales.

his previously stiffened body finally releases the tension he’s been unknowingly holding all day. he finds comfort in the bolsters of the couch, the welcoming warmth of his home, the quiet dialogue from the television, and most importantly, the presence of you. heck, his head was pounding in his skull before he even came through the door, however, now the first wave of ease washes over his head for the first time in hours as he feels his heartbeat slowing in his chest.

picking himself up, he lays his hands on the cushions, one balled into a fist, and pushes himself toward you. it happened so fast. his head lowers as his fist spreads to hold onto your waist, his other hand reaching for the back of your neck, something you can’t feel until his thumb begins to trace circles against your nape. glancing down, the hand gripping your waist trembles as he caresses your side. he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

“baby, ‘m so tired,” michael sighs into your skin as you feel his sweat adhere to you. his breath is hot against your neck, and you shudder as you try to strain a sentence out of your newly stubborn throat.

“i couldn't tell,” you somehow manage, voice seeping through quivering at first before you could find your poise as you give a languid nod. he lets out a pfft with a laugh despite his exhaustion, still able to muster up strength to laugh with you, and a smile tugs on your lips.

and then you feel it. though it’s feather light, he presses a kiss to your neck. and another. as though it were instinct, your hand makes its way to his curls, lightly scratching at the back of his scalp as his hands twitch from the touch. as they pile up, a giggle bubbles from your throat. “mike—”

“shh,” he chuckles sluggishly, grinning against your skin, “i wanna kiss you.” he intervenes with another kiss, humming into your neck. a hot flush you can’t swallow overwhelms your cheeks as it spreads down to your neck with a shudder, seeking to pass it off as merely tepidity radiating from michael—as if that makes the spin of your mind any better.

you don’t know why this feels different.

your eyes narrow as you gander down and scan his face. his cheeks have grown a little rosy—you’re unsure whether it’s from his exhaustion or if he even walked in with that tint on him at all. his styled edges are visibly a bit soaked from his sweat, regarding the droplets of it, and a faint grin sneaking itself through his kisses, yet the only thing distracting you is how his lips feel on your skin.

they aren’t even on your mouth, you shouldn’t be so affected by it.

and yet, to make it worse, he starts to suck crudely along your neck, a wave of heat hitting your body with embarrassing haste, and your eyes inadvertently shut. your fingers twine with his curls once more, yet this time, it seems as though he tries to stifle something like a groan—something you feel you shouldn’t have caught. the action heedlessly pushes him closer, and he doesn’t pass his chance to mark the rest of your skin accessible to him, kissing you almost ardently, like he got excited from the new reach. your stomach churns.

despite it, you bat your eyes back open. the awareness of how eager he came to be hits him, and with a flush to his cheeks, he reluctantly slows his kisses, suckling gently on your neck, and he splays his quivering hand on your nape. that's when you feel your lungs still, and you belatedly call attention for yourself to take a breath.

michael tightens his grip on your waist, the hand to your nape sliding down to hold your hip with waiting intention unbeknownst to you. his hands snake around your stomach and make their way around your waist until his arms are full of you, so unsought that your gaze instantaneously travels down to his arms around you, and looking back, it leads to your eyes searching him again.

a blemish near his cheekbone, a sweet, lasting mark from his bygone acne as your interest flickers to the tip of his nose retreating with each tender kiss. he tilts his head and settles into the backrest, every so often altering with each new area he covers just to rest back there again; as he does so, the dim light from the television grazes over his skin, and though brisk, you catch sight of the excess beads of sweat sitting on his forehead.

firmly, with his strikingly risqué hold on your waist, he hoists you onto his lap, an almost inaudible gasp leaving your mouth—a sound his ear giddily perks at.

michael lets a low simper make off at your hand in his hair wincing before harking back to your side and onto his wrist, a fleet sound that wriggles its way into your spine and down to your lower back, your stomach stirring anew.

it should’ve been cute; you assume it oughta, but as he digs his face back into your neck and litters wet kisses against your skin, the air around grows someway bawdier than it already was.

his self restraint is unmistakable. he's trying to save his kisses gentle, you can feel it, and yet, his efforts prove in vain as he drifts further from what little control he has in his allegedly tired body. his tongue grazes your skin between a kiss, and michael feels you shudder in his hold.

the television is practically inaudible now—twofold when you’re so drawn to each wet noise he makes when he stops sucking on your skin, and every soft sound that escapes his lips when he leaves another kiss on you.

you can smell him—the faint damp and tangy scent from his sudor, the smell of the vanillas in his shampoo laying just underneath, the airy amber from his perfume, and the raw, musky moisture from his skin that for whatever reason, affects you drastically as your thighs clamp together before you can even have a say in your actions.

michael's heart is hammering against his ribcage. he feels heat bleeding into his cheeks, and as a way to ground himself, he gives a light squeeze to your hip every few kisses, and spoilers, it’s forlorn.

he can't keep ignoring this forever. he needs you so, so madly right now, and the tension in the room only coils in his stomach and bullies his composure (which is something he’s surprised he even has at the moment).

and then it slips.

it starts when his lips caress your earlobe, lightly nipping it with his teeth, and he stops for a heartbeat too slow. his breath stutters in your ear, airy and hot with desire.

and suddenly, you’re hyper aware of the fact you’re merely wearing panties when a pool of heat reaches your lower back.

he presses his lips together, a little wet from his own saliva, and tries to stabilise his breathing (to no avail). he moves down, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses near your nape, then the dip of your neck, to near your collarbone, until abruptly, he finds the sensitive bit of skin on you, to which you suck in a breath and curl your lips inwards as a sound begged to be let out of your throat. as his teeth nip the area, it prompts your head to tilt averse onto the back of the couch, and michael grows dizzy with pure want.

his hands seep their way into your shirt and caress your sides as he drags his lips, teeth grazing your skin as his breath sends another wave of heat through you.

it was so sudden. both of you didn’t pre-empt it, and it shows when he rolls his hips into you, and a mewl knocks itself out of your throat as michael lets out an audible gasp.

“baby—baby, i'm so sorry. is… is this okay?” his words are strangled as he pulls away from your neck, lips parted. turning your head, your eyes meet his.

they’re wide and hazed, laced with need. his brows are high and drawn together as his last effort to hold back.

and with that, you cracked.

your lips crash onto his, hot and messy, hips grinding against the growing bulge in his slacks as you do so, and michael groans into your mouth. almost immediately, his hands grasp back onto your waist to spin you around, breaking the kiss before settling you onto his lap again, a choked moan leaving his lips at the contact, pressing his lips back on yours as he tilts his head.

painfully, you haul yourself along the thick ridge of his tent, a moan leaving your mouth to which michael eagerly swallows. he pulls away to catch his breath.

he pants lightly against your lips with hooded eyes, yet he can’t manage to keep them off you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth and peppering more down to your jaw, lips wet from you.

you rock down on him, the friction so delicious, yet not enough to satiate. his head promptly drops, forehead sticking to the side of your neck a whimper spills from him, trickling with hunger, and he’s not trying to hide it, either.

his lips find their way back to yours, pure, full-blown desire woven into it as you feel your panties soaking, clenching around nothing, and likely leaving a wet patch on michael's pants.

“mikey, please,” your voice comes wrecked as you force yourself away from him just enough for you to speak, and the sound of you begging alone gets a groan out of him.

he rubs up against you, lightly nipping your bottom lip as an unstable gasp shakes out of you. “yes, pretty?” his words hit firm and teasing, a smile creeping onto his face, one hand sliding from your waist to your thigh, gently squeezing your skin to egg you on.

“need you…” you gulp back a gasp, running words through your head, nitpicking ones you find too vulgar or dirty and scrambling them in frantic obscurity, “make love to me, pl-ease,” you finish meekly. your hands grab onto his shoulders, dipping your head down gingerly in a flustered haze, primarily because you have never done this with him, let alone said such a thing, and the tremble of his hands on you says so much with so little. he connects your lips again, nodding into it as a sign of approval.

his shaky hands move to the backs of your upper thighs, keeping a strong grip as he warily lifts you up. by instinct, your legs wrap around his waist as your arms did around his neck, and he grins into the kiss.

he brings you to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him and coming to a halt when his knees hit the mattress, settling you down onto the sheets as if you were a delicacy.

michael wastes no time in peppering kisses down your body—your jaw, neck, your collarbones for a moment too long before moving to your inner thighs.

your panties are so embarrassingly damp from your arousal, and his bottom lip quivers as his breath hitches from the mere sight of you soaked.  

he leaves a burning, wet trail of kisses up your thigh up until he feels a hand in his hair, upping his head to avert his attention to you. and suddenly, his eyes slightly widen as he grows meek at his actions, a red tint bleeding up to the tips of his ears.

almost instantly, you clamp your thighs together. “w-wait,” you squeak, and your mouth goes dry. never in your life have you felt more self-conscious, and even more when you feel as though you’ve fissured the moment. humiliation bounds around your muscles and renders you stiff.

the cognisance roots itself into his skin in prickles. his eyes change into something gentler, his brows fleetly lifting before pressing together lightly. he scans your face, looking for an ounce of jest in your expression, because frankly, he can’t wrap his head around how the woman he loves most, the woman who is so incredibly perfect in his eyes, could be thinking negatively about herself. and yet, he finds none.

hand leisurely settling on your thigh, he caresses your skin so tenderly it almost burns, radiating into your chest and down to your core. “mama, you’re so perfect,” he coos, and there’s nothing but pure sincerity dowsed in his voice, your cheeks growing so hot you think he can see it. “i hope you see yourself as i see you. i'll make you feel so, so right, just—please… let me please you. i want to feel like i deserve you, let me—just,” his breath trembles, voice breaking just slightly, so devoutly and longingly you could only take a pause.

and then he glances up.

his eyes glimmer and practically pleads, brows creasing up, and so incredibly desirous it messes with your head. you take your bottom lip amidst your teeth.

barely through your nod, michael's eyes go wide and pries your legs back open, diving down between them and sweetly kissing your inner thighs as a finger twirls around the cotton of the only thing keeping your pretty pussy away from him. the shudder of your breath only urges him further, only cutting short when he reaches too closely, taking another glimpse of you to make certain it’s alright.

rather than a nod, or even a simple yes, he receives your hands tangling themselves in his hair, and that’s all the confirmation he needs.

he slides off your panties almost frantically, precariously pulling ‘til they fall neatly on the hardwood of the floor, raising your leg over his shoulder as the other locks your leg down in a meek, yet firm grip. michael revels in the sight of you all soaked for him so pretty, tentatively staring before a slight tug of his hair spurs him on, shyly dropping his head between your thighs.

he leaves a soft kiss to you, something experimental as his hot breath fans your cunt, fingertips digging into the back of your knee more so for himself. and without thinking, he licks a long, tantalising stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and your mouth gapes, slipping a whimper from your throat. “m-mikey, th-that feels so good—” you scarcely manage, words jumbling in your head as you struggle to make them coherent.

your flavour on his tastebuds intoxicate him and cloud his mind, nose bumping against your bud and savouring your taste as he licks up greedily, humming against you, inducing a choked noise out of your mouth. wrapping his lips around your clit, you pull on his hair with a whine.

“you sound so pretty.” he smiles into your cunt as his tongue probes you. “taste s’sweet—” he cuts himself off like he can’t keep away from your taste for long, hungrily burying himself back into you and swirling his tongue around your clit.

it doesn’t take long for his narrowly reserved pace to speed up as he eats you like he’s been starved of this for far too long, moans muffling against you as your body jolts at the pleasure. his tongue pushes past your folds, messily fucking you with his tongue, barely acknowledging the saliva running down his chin. every little sound of his vibrates up your spine, mewling at each one.

generously, your juices coat his lips and the surrounding skin, legs almost buckling if not for his hold on you. your breath catches in your throat before you choke out a cry of his name, and his ears instantly perk.

he craves to hear it again.

without thought, or even with him regarding it, he brings two digits to you and buries them in the warmth of your cunt, a sob almost immediately ripping through your throat. he laps at you as if it’s the only thing he knows how, nose harshly pushing your clit upward before giving it a suck again.

all he can think about is you—your smell suffocating him so sweetly, your essence all over his face, how responsive you are, all of it driving further and fogging his head. you have not the slightest clue of what you do to him. he wants so badly for you to fall apart right on his tongue, and he’s gonna have it. his tongue enters you again, and you can feel how it drives deeper and deeper, walls fluttering around his muscle as he relishes in your aroma and taste as he loses himself further in you. lewd, filthy noises of him slurping stills in the air, your pants and moans drowning it as your back arches off the mattress, his hand travelling under your thighs to hold your hips down, and your leg instantly closes around his head, only pushing him deeper as his groan hits right to your clit.

his fingers curl inside you again, his eyebrows drawn taut with immersion, eliciting a strangled mix of a whine and a sob from your mouth, quietly gasping reiterates of his name. “baby,” he muffles, refusing to stray from your taste, “wan’ hear you…”

a vulgar string of drawn-out whimpers fall from your lips before his name slips again in a loud moan, squeezing at your hip as he groans in pure satisfaction, pumping his fingers increasingly hastier, the squelch of your walls hitting his ears so obscene he begins to rock against the mattress.

“mikey—please, mh, i think i’m g-gonna…” you barely shove the words out of your mouth as you pant out, legs shaking around his head, waves of pleasure threatening to crash over you with each waking second.

you didn’t have to forewarn him in the slightest. not when he can taste and feel you so undeniably in his mouth—how the band of your lower tummy tightens as your walls succeed, back fighting to arch off the bed, nails digging into his scalp and tugging on his curls.

“i know, pretty… let go f’me, please, baby. need to taste you—mm, wan’ try something,” he mutters breathlessly, pulling away fleetly to take his digits out of you, tentatively pressing his thumb down on your clit as you writhe at the sensation, ecstacy overwhelming your senses as your orgasm ripples through your body, and michael is quick to attach his mouth back on you to lap at your juices.

“mmpfh—mh, taste as good as y’sound—oh,” he moans as he completely engulfs himself into your taste, thumb beginning to lazily draw circles on your bundle of nerves as his tongue plunges into you as if you’re the only thing that’ll quench his perennial thirst, and you pull at his hair, eliciting an elated sound from him.

“t-too much!” you cry, voice increasing in pitch as your trembling legs unwillingly wrap him into you nearer, contrasting as you wholly try to push him away.

withdrawing himself from you pains him more than he can feel.

but when he does, his eyes meet yours, pupils dilated and swallowing the brown of his iris, and with a brief glance down, his lips gleam in the dim light, drenched in you, chin dripping with your arousal, the sight immediately rushing heat up your neck and into your cheeks.

then his eyes flash with guilt. “baby,” he says, voice is trickling with urgency as his tongue darts out to taste yourself on his lips, still covetous even as he apologises, “i’m so sorry, pretty, i should’ve stopped—‘m sorry, are you okay?” his large hand caresses your quivering inner thigh and kneads the skin there, free hand finding perch on the plush of the bed next to your other thigh, propping himself up as the mattress dips with the weight of his knee. his other knee settles beside your hip, the hand that assisted him in climbing on the bed landing on the sheets behind you, his disparate hand never halting motion on your skin.

michael’s eyes flicker between yours, big and hazy, glutted with concern as though he’d done something unable to be pardoned. you can only scoff, the tip of your index tracing his jaw without a thought, and you take in the sight of his eyes briefly splaying as your finger wipes your arousal off his jaw. his breath stutters once you reach his chin, flicking your finger off and cupping his cheek as fast as you jerked your finger, gently coaxing him in before your lips meet again in a tender kiss.

he melts into it instantly, the hand rubbing your thigh flying to hold the small of your back. drawing averse, he pants as he murmurs a hot string of babbles of how he adores your taste, a breath-width away from your lips before he delves back, pushing his tongue in your mouth to help you taste your flavour. “y’taste like a dream,” he sighs into your mouth, smiling against your lips with gratitude more than anything. the flavour of your essence mingled with michael’s own taste is enough to take a precedent swelling moan out of you and into his ears, to which he drinks with the same indebtedness.

heedlessly sliding your heel toward you, your knee lifts and catches itself when it makes the slightest contact with the aching tent in michael’s slacks he’d been desperately trying to disregard, a whimper leaving him as quick as his head dips in the crook of your neck, hand holding back from squeezing your skin in a fit of self-restraint. he’d been holding back. “mike,” you mutter just loud enough to reach his ears as he barely manages to lift his head, eyes locking to yours with a critical aching need consumed in his gaze—something you can’t bear to pay no heed to. “let me take you.”

who are you not to repay him?

your words come sheepish, timid, yet to him it hits with a newfangled ripple of unadulterated need searing ardently through his veins. you gesture to the edge of the bed with a tilt of your chin. he knows better than to ask how despite his struggle to credit the prospect of you taking him in any of the perverted ways that is on his mind. he heaves himself away from you. jointly, you find your way to the contrasting cold of the floorboards from the warmth of his sheets. the cold almost instantly dissipates under the contact of your knees as michael seats himself on the outskirt of the mattress with untrained eyes indulging in how your eyes look under the dim light as your attention flickers to his trousers.

and a rush of deep red amasses into his cheeks, mouth parted, yet producing no sound as he catches his breath at the fleeting recognition. “oh—wait,” he says, his usual soft tone welling with uncertainty as well as a faint, almost eager undercurrent—which he can’t veil when your eyes find their way to his once more.

“i can’t…” he takes a deep swallow, “no, i can’t let you do that, pretty, you shouldn’t be down there doin’ somethin’ like… that,” he speaks already as though he floundered to make something articulate.

“you’ve helped me, haven't you? can’t i do the same?”

he stammers as his head tries to conjure a valid reason against yours. “let me, baby.” your hand taps his knee, a smile playing at his lips like it always does when you call him that, yet an unfamiliar, almost heated shiver wriggles up his spine at the tap of your finger. “i want to.”

his dire need garners and gluts his senses as the allure of your glim unwavering causes his reason to fail him, both mingling into something he’s impotent to reject. he parts his lips, though not without reluctance. “you’re sure?” he asks, however, by this time, your leisure taps move into full-on caresses, and his limbs draw themselves tense. and before you could answer, your unplanned touch ignites a feeling that travels through his veins with haste. “ah- ah, it’s… why is it— why does… okay, okay,” he qualms as the emergent bulge beneath his pants begins to sore like he’s never felt before, his lower abdomen burning. is it supposed to feel like this? he didn’t know it could get this bad, and embarrassment seeps through his bones.

with his wince and agreement, briskly, you tug on his pants as he lifts himself from the sheets so you can slide them off, the fabric leaving his skin also leaving a fire with them as ardour hums everywhere in his body. and as your hands make contact with the waistband of his underwear, an unmistakable wet patch that formed a while ago from his generous amount of precum visible to you, his mind, as well as his heart, racing.

his hands aviate to cover his face when you free him from the confinements of his briefs. as soon as the cold air hits him, his mind races a slew of protests.

you’re too pretty to be down there. this is so dirty. on your knees is so, so dirty—as if he didn’t just eat you out and would do it for hours if you just let him. what if you think it’s… i dunno, ugly? you shouldn’t be doin’ something like this. he shouldn’t have accepted, but how could he not when desire settles and rattles his bones? the words weigh on his tongue until he can’t carry it any longer, lips parting to give way to his protest.

with such tenderness his heart aches, your plush lips wrap around his mauve tip, previously coated in precum with now your saliva, and the words lodge in his throat almost violently as a hearty wail ousts it. your eyes flick up just in time to view the hands shielding his face trembling and moving down, revealing his crimson-painted cheeks with his brows creased and oh, what a sight it is. his hands descend to steal a glimpse of your mouth around his length, and from the mere gander, a whimper slips his throat.

you have never thought of such about him when you finally viewed him. tip slick with so much precum, the mere sight already soaking you again, veins running prettily along his length. if he’d been looking at you earlier, he’d see the way you were gaping him with such awe. as if he couldn’t get any more perfect, this sure solidified it.

you give him initially shy kitten licks on his tip, whimpers already spilling out of his mouth before you start lapping, savouring the taste of his leaking slit before moving down—though not without taking a hefty inhale first—his big hands finding purchase in your locks.

the sight is so filthy to see. how you meld to him, engulfing his dick and letting him feel the warmth of your mouth, dim light shimmering in the shade of tears stilling in your waterline. his hands twine themselves in your hair and gently tugs as your hands wrap around the area you can’t reach with solely your mouth. lifting your head up and off of him, your tongue traces along his prominent vein, applying pressure with which his head starts to swirl at as his hips jerk without his say. he’s grateful he didn’t do that while he was in your mouth—until it happens.

your lips envelop him, bringing him back into the warmth of your mouth, swallowing him as your hand experimentally squeezes his base. before you could ask if that felt okay, his hips thrust up into your mouth again, and he’s immediately spewing apologies. he loves it so much, and you’ll do it again if it means eliciting that mewl out of him again. you pull yourself up from him with a pop, hands working his shaft to replace the absence of your mouth.

“i didn’t mean to… oh, ‘m s’sorry,” his words slur as your hand unwavers, and he’s sneaking his bottom lip between his teeth as you finding leverage on his shirt, yanking him toward you and colliding your lips together in a hot, muddled kiss, interjecting his effort to suppress the noises slipping from his lips so he could speak. his slick on your tongue transferring to his tastebuds spins his mind as a hand to your hair moves to your cheek.

your arm wraps around his neck, hand tugging on his shirt as he sets out a whimper to your mouth before complying, breaking off the kiss so he can lift his shirt up and over his head only to reattach your lips to his just as quickly as he hurls the fabric to who-knows-where in the room. you break it off once more. “stop apologizing,” you whisper, squeezing as you pump him, thumb rubbing along his prominent vein glossed in your spit, and a cry tears through him as he pulls himself back with his hands tangling in your hair again. licking a long stripe, your hands settle back near his base anew before you have him back in your mouth, unconsciously humming against him as vibrations shoot up his spine expels itself as a moan.

“th-that… that feels weird, mgh, do it again… please,” he mutters breathlessly. your cheeks hollow, and his head throws back as his oozing tip brushes the hind of your throat, his bottom lip quivering when you bob your earnestly. oh, you look perfect like this—hair tussled from his tugs, lips moulded to his shaft, eyes glossy and cheeks flushed a rosy tint, peeking through your eyelashes to glance at his expression, eyes falling to his abs coated in a light sheen of sweat before shutting your eyes again—something he doesn’t fail to miss.

“y-you have such a pretty mouth—ah, feels so—” he blabs, cut short by his own whimper. his hips stutter at the feel of you rotating your wrist, one hand moving down from your scalp to caress your cheek, tracing along your jaw with gentle, yet jagged lines as he strains to keep his head steady. as his tip hits the back of your throat once more, you ardently fight your gag reflex, throat tightening around him as he fills with concern. “can you—ngh,” he cries, “breathe? o-oh, baby—” his hand draws taut in your hair, and when you peek up, tears are stinging his waterline. “baby, please,” he pleads, voice cracking, “i can’t… i don’t wanna c-cum like this,” he divulges, gripping the sheets with his hand formerly on your cheek with a firm hold.

michael’s arm, placed precariously behind him with his hand outward and grasping the sheets for poise, collapses as his strength leaves him, his elbow hitting the mattress. and generously, craving to fulfill his desires, you climb on the bed and move to the left of him as he discerns you with impressive haste, pushing himself back so his legs won’t dangle out of the mattress anymore.

propping your knees to either side of him, you hover your sopping cunt above his waiting dick as tenderly, he kneads the side of the small of your back—more so for himself. and when he finally regards what you’re about to do, his object is cut short by his tip prodding your entrance, and your whimpers mingle with the burning aroma of the space.

gradually, sorely, you sink down into him, both of his hands flying to your lower back, nails digging divots into your skin as his cock twitches inside of you, forcing a whine from your throat. he’s filling you up, head falling low as whimpers leave you in strings. your hands head for his shoulders as gently, he brings you in until you embrace, tilting his head and whispering tenderly in your ear. “y’r doin’ so well, ma… jus’ a little— m-ore,” he coos, sighing barely through the latter, unable to mask the garbled moans that escape his mouth.

“o-oh my—mike,” you choke out, shaking with each inch you descend as your grip on his shoulders grow firm, then weak again. his arms tremble as they assist you in falling into him, whining dulcet in your ear as the feeling of being stuffed overwhelms your system before you’re to the hilt. you pant against his chest as he does your head, his hand tracing leisure, consoling circles to your skin.

the moment you finally pull off him, the sweat coating his torso clings to your shirt before you fully asunder. the hold you have on his shoulders linger as you begin to move, his breaths coming ragged and in a medley of bursts and drags. “hoh, you…” he swallows deeply, “y’feel s’ warm, so tight… oh, you’re s’tight—didn’t know it felt like this, oh,” he cries, and when your head lifts, tears are threatening to fall and lacquer a watery line down his cheeks. the sight alone makes you clench down on him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest and sending searing flurries of heat through his veins as you find your rhythm.

his hands work to guide your hips, bucking his up with every pummel he ushers from you, clit brutally bumping against his pelvis with each. his name falls from you, breathy and mingled with his plethora of babbles as your nails bore crescents in his shoulders, your eyelids fluttering shut and back open just to see the blissed out expression adorned on his comely face. his thumb caressing your inner hip falters when you roll your hips on him without his guidance, his hands tightening around you and rocking you down, and with it, a tear that was stilled in his eyes finally founders and leaves a line of salty liquid as it falls, then another—but that one mixes in his sweat. the feeling of your walls suffocating him leaves him delirious, but the notion of you exhausting yourself up there pains him, and oh, he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep still. and it doesn’t at all take long for him to act.

his hands grasp stiff and unyielding to your hips, flipping you both and stealing you of your breath as he snaps his hips and rips a lewd sound that lands somewhere between a mewl and a cry from your achy throat. he grabs firm to your shirt and briskly pulls it up and over your head and off to somewhere in the room as swiftly as he had flipped you.

he gapes at you from this newfound angle of being on top of you, and it knocks a strained grunt out of his parted lips as he begins to move. “mikey, w-what—ah! mh, ke-keep going, please…” you sob as his dick drags in your gummied walls, melding each ridge and vein of him into you and stretching you impossibly more than you already have been. eyes ripping from yours, his burning stare is pulled to where you two join, and michael ogles at how his cock continuously buries and disappears into the warmth of your sweet cunt. each thrust forms a frothy ring of his precum and your arousal at his base, his eyes eagerly drinking up the sight before his fixation moves just slightly up.

his pupils blow wide when they land on the swell outline of his dick in your tummy, and from the sight alone he chokes out a strangled moan. “am…” he pants as his hands move near your navel, “am i doin’ that?” he presses lightly on your abdomen as he bucks his hips a tad harsher than intended, and your body quivers, back arching off the sheets as his tip dotingly kisses your cervix, letting his head fall as well as his jaw.

with the shift in your positions, the feverish newfound angle has his cock hitting deep into the sponge tissue of your sex, and your mouth gapes. “th-there! right there, mikey, please…” your whimpers are drowned by the lewd noises of his pelvis slamming against your moist skin as his pace grows relentless at your spur.

all that consumes him is how your hot cunt sucks him in and the filthy squelch that comes with it. his dewy eyes dart between your disheveled face and the curve of his dick bulging from your stomach, and when your walls clamp down on him again, he shuts his eyes, the salty droplets that had settled in the rim of his eyes rolling down his rouge tinted cheeks and falling from his chin. “you’re… y’r squeezin’ me—hoh,” he moans, head reeling as his hands hastily shrithe to envelope your torso, slogging to refrain from collapsing on you as he lowers until you’re wholly flush against his clammy chest. he strains a throaty mix of a huff and a whine against your cheek before smashing his lips onto yours in a searing kiss, his hand caressing your side and leaving heat where it was once placed.

each snap of his hips have him continuously ramming into and abusing the sweet dip in the inlay of your womb. the bedframe gashing the paint off the wall with every rock accompanies the wet plaps of skin slapping skin and the descants of your fused moans—sounds that send tingles through michael’s body—sounds he’s eager to devour. his swollen lips trails wet kisses down to your lower lip, your chin, and to your jaw, and you let your head fall back only for michael to capture your lips in his again, your raised head only deepening the sloppy motions of your mouth against his, and you squirm as you struggle to keep up, for each buck of his hips swirls your head absurdly further.

his head falls into the dip of your neck, panting against your skin, your pussy pulsing around his length as your abdomen twists. “mh, mikey, hoh! ‘m s-sssso close,” you choke, hands clutching at his shoulders and the flesh of his upper arms as you clamp around him, suctioning his girth deliciously as he brings a hand to return to your belly, the pressure from his wring reducing your mind to a haze of nothing but him.

“i-i’m close too, ohmy— oh, wh-where should i… do i do it—” he’s cut short by his own cry and swallow, “inside? wan’ me to pull out?”

you claw at his back, only mustering a frantic shake of your head, holding him firm in place, his large hand once on your belly trembling as he takes a soft hold to your cheek. the rhythmic pace of his thrusts grow sloppy, overbrimming with primal need, to which your sight distorts ‘til you’re convinced the whites clouding your vision are clusters of stars.

the hot coil in your lower abdomen snaps when he fills you to the hilt again, your body falling limp, cunt throbbing around him as ripples of pleasure glut your being, creaming his dick and gushing on the sheets as he helps you ride out your orgasm. michael’s mouth hangs open, slurring a series of moans and incohesive blabs as he soaks in every contortion of your face, the bucking of his hips turning desperate. he buries himself in you wholly when his warm seed spills and earnestly coats your velvety walls in white, filling you so full with his release it shows with a mere glance at your tummy.

the both of you stay like this for a little while—panting against each other’s skin as he stills inside of you, the dripping of cum spilling out your sopping cunt and droplets running down his length eliciting quivers out of you two until he slowly drags his leaking cock out of the warmth of your sex. “are… are you okay?” he breathes before raising his head from the comfort of the curve of your neck, meeting your dazed eyes as his thumb grazes your cheekbone. 

his curls cling to the clammy skin of his forehead, eyes hazy and pupils blown wide, lips red and swollen. “mhm,” you hum, nodding your head as a smile adorns his elated face. with one last peck to your lips, he heaves himself up and off the mattress, heading to his restroom and back with a cloth before he settles himself between your aching thighs again. his cheeks flush a deep red upon the sight, shyly swiping the cloth to wipe away the mingled essences of the both of you, and as he progresses closer to your core, your body flinches and some of his seed seeps further out of you, and his teeth tug on his lower lip as he can’t seem to pull his eyes away.

when he finishes up, he plants a tender kiss to your inner thigh. he then waits outside the door of the restroom as you use the toilet a few minutes later. by this time, you two are dressed back up, although hodieral in pyjama attire.

the moment he hears the twist of the doorknob and you swinging the door open, he’s already on you—lips crashing onto yours in a messy, yet gentle kiss as he devours each of your laughs, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips as he backs you into the bed and sends the both of you collapsing onto the plush pillows.

the final thing you’re able to recall is how his lips travel to your cheek, leaving sweet pecks in between ‘thank you’s before your eyelids give out on you.

your home, once scented tobacco, smells of musk and skin when michael enters sapped, and from afar, bleary.

the click of the door lock pulled your attention from the tv to his beat face, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead and back, clinging to his white tee, creating transparent patches and the faithful impression of how weary he is.

you grab onto the back of the couch as you twist your torso to earn a better view, and at that moment, his tired gaze makes its way to you.

previously half-lidded, his eyes ever so slightly widen at the sight of you clad in nothing but an oversized shirt and panties, because in all sincerity: you didn’t expect him to arrive home so early. it’s usually early mornings to past midnight with michael's schedules, yet it’s only 8 pm.

rising to your feet, your brows crease in worry as he walks over to the couch. “baby,” you breathe, hands reaching out to help him. as he moves closer, his panting grows more evident as well as the scent of sweat and the faint smell of his lingering perfume. only then did your nose take in the scent. “what—”

he nears and takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together and gently squeezing as he collapses himself onto the plush cushions and pillows of the couch, pulling you down with him, though with a lighter landing.

a content sigh escapes him as if he only just revived his memory to breathe. leaning closer, you can hear faint sounds of him panting through his headache; the way it catches in his throat and he has to swallow to breathe properly again; one breath being light, and the other grows heavy to then heavy again and so on; the way he expels a low moan during lighter exhales.

his previously stiffened body finally releases the tension he’s been unknowingly holding all day. he finds comfort in the bolsters of the couch, the welcoming warmth of his home, the quiet dialogue from the television, and most importantly, the presence of you. heck, his head was pounding in his skull before he even came through the door, however, now the first wave of ease washes over his head for the first time in hours as he feels his heartbeat slowing in his chest.

picking himself up, he lays his hands on the cushions, one balled into a fist, and pushes himself toward you. it happened so fast. his head lowers as his fist spreads to hold onto your waist, his other hand reaching for the back of your neck, something you can’t feel until his thumb begins to trace circles against your nape. glancing down, the hand gripping your waist trembles as he caresses your side. he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

“baby, ‘m so tired,” michael sighs into your skin as you feel his sweat adhere to you. his breath is hot against your neck, and you shudder as you try to strain a sentence out of your newly stubborn throat.

“i couldn't tell,” you somehow manage, voice seeping through quivering at first before you could find your poise as you give a languid nod. he lets out a pfft with a laugh despite his exhaustion, still able to muster up strength to laugh with you, and a smile tugs on your lips.

and then you feel it. though it’s feather light, he presses a kiss to your neck. and another. as though it were instinct, your hand makes its way to his curls, lightly scratching at the back of his scalp as his hands twitch from the touch. as they pile up, a giggle bubbles from your throat. “mike—”

“shh,” he chuckles sluggishly, grinning against your skin, “i wanna kiss you.” he intervenes with another kiss, humming into your neck. a hot flush you can’t swallow overwhelms your cheeks as it spreads down to your neck with a shudder, seeking to pass it off as merely tepidity radiating from michael—as if that makes the spin of your mind any better.

you don’t know why this feels different.

your eyes narrow as you gander down and scan his face. his cheeks have grown a little rosy—you’re unsure whether it’s from his exhaustion or if he even walked in with that tint on him at all. his styled edges are visibly a bit soaked from his sweat, regarding the droplets of it, and a faint grin sneaking itself through his kisses, yet the only thing distracting you is how his lips feel on your skin.

they aren’t even on your mouth, you shouldn’t be so affected by it.

and yet, to make it worse, he starts to suck crudely along your neck, a wave of heat hitting your body with embarrassing haste, and your eyes inadvertently shut. your fingers twine with his curls once more, yet this time, it seems as though he tries to stifle something like a groan—something you feel you shouldn’t have caught. the action heedlessly pushes him closer, and he doesn’t pass his chance to mark the rest of your skin accessible to him, kissing you almost ardently, like he got excited from the new reach. your stomach churns.

despite it, you bat your eyes back open. the awareness of how eager he came to be hits him, and with a flush to his cheeks, he reluctantly slows his kisses, suckling gently on your neck, and he splays his quivering hand on your nape. that's when you feel your lungs still, and you belatedly call attention for yourself to take a breath.

michael tightens his grip on your waist, the hand to your nape sliding down to hold your hip with waiting intention unbeknownst to you. his hands snake around your stomach and make their way around your waist until his arms are full of you, so unsought that your gaze instantaneously travels down to his arms around you, and looking back, it leads to your eyes searching him again.

a blemish near his cheekbone, a sweet, lasting mark from his bygone acne as your interest flickers to the tip of his nose retreating with each tender kiss. he tilts his head and settles into the backrest, every so often altering with each new area he covers just to rest back there again; as he does so, the dim light from the television grazes over his skin, and though brisk, you catch sight of the excess beads of sweat sitting on his forehead.

firmly, with his strikingly risqué hold on your waist, he hoists you onto his lap, an almost inaudible gasp leaving your mouth—a sound his ear giddily perks at.

michael lets a low simper make off at your hand in his hair wincing before harking back to your side and onto his wrist, a fleet sound that wriggles its way into your spine and down to your lower back, your stomach stirring anew.

it should’ve been cute; you assume it oughta, but as he digs his face back into your neck and litters wet kisses against your skin, the air around grows someway bawdier than it already was.

his self restraint is unmistakable. he's trying to save his kisses gentle, you can feel it, and yet, his efforts prove in vain as he drifts further from what little control he has in his allegedly tired body. his tongue grazes your skin between a kiss, and michael feels you shudder in his hold.

the television is practically inaudible now—twofold when you’re so drawn to each wet noise he makes when he stops sucking on your skin, and every soft sound that escapes his lips when he leaves another kiss on you.

you can smell him—the faint damp and tangy scent from his sudor, the smell of the vanillas in his shampoo laying just underneath, the airy amber from his perfume, and the raw, musky moisture from his skin that for whatever reason, affects you drastically as your thighs clamp together before you can even have a say in your actions.

michael's heart is hammering against his ribcage. he feels heat bleeding into his cheeks, and as a way to ground himself, he gives a light squeeze to your hip every few kisses, and spoilers, it’s forlorn.

he can't keep ignoring this forever. he needs you so, so madly right now, and the tension in the room only coils in his stomach and bullies his composure (which is something he’s surprised he even has at the moment).

and then it slips.

it starts when his lips caress your earlobe, lightly nipping it with his teeth, and he stops for a heartbeat too slow. his breath stutters in your ear, airy and hot with desire.

and suddenly, you’re hyper aware of the fact you’re merely wearing panties when a pool of heat reaches your lower back.

he presses his lips together, a little wet from his own saliva, and tries to stabilise his breathing (to no avail). he moves down, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses near your nape, then the dip of your neck, to near your collarbone, until abruptly, he finds the sensitive bit of skin on you, to which you suck in a breath and curl your lips inwards as a sound begged to be let out of your throat. as his teeth nip the area, it prompts your head to tilt averse onto the back of the couch, and michael grows dizzy with pure want.

his hands seep their way into your shirt and caress your sides as he drags his lips, teeth grazing your skin as his breath sends another wave of heat through you.

it was so sudden. both of you didn’t pre-empt it, and it shows when he rolls his hips into you, and a mewl knocks itself out of your throat as michael lets out an audible gasp.

“baby—baby, i'm so sorry. is… is this okay?” his words are strangled as he pulls away from your neck, lips parted. turning your head, your eyes meet his.

they’re wide and hazed, laced with need. his brows are high and drawn together as his last effort to hold back.

and with that, you cracked.

your lips crash onto his, hot and messy, hips grinding against the growing bulge in his slacks as you do so, and michael groans into your mouth. almost immediately, his hands grasp back onto your waist to spin you around, breaking the kiss before settling you onto his lap again, a choked moan leaving his lips at the contact, pressing his lips back on yours as he tilts his head.

painfully, you haul yourself along the thick ridge of his tent, a moan leaving your mouth to which michael eagerly swallows. he pulls away to catch his breath.

he pants lightly against your lips with hooded eyes, yet he can’t manage to keep them off you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth and peppering more down to your jaw, lips wet from you.

you rock down on him, the friction so delicious, yet not enough to satiate. his head promptly drops, forehead sticking to the side of your neck a whimper spills from him, trickling with hunger, and he’s not trying to hide it, either.

his lips find their way back to yours, pure, full-blown desire woven into it as you feel your panties soaking, clenching around nothing, and likely leaving a wet patch on michael's pants.

“mikey, please,” your voice comes wrecked as you force yourself away from him just enough for you to speak, and the sound of you begging alone gets a groan out of him.

he rubs up against you, lightly nipping your bottom lip as an unstable gasp shakes out of you. “what, pretty?” his words hit firm and teasing, a smile creeping onto his face, one hand sliding from your waist to your thigh, gently squeezing your skin to egg you on.

“need you…” you gulp back a gasp, running words through your head, nitpicking ones you find too vulgar or dirty and scrambling them in frantic obscurity, “make love to me, pl-ease,” you finish meekly. your hands grab onto his shoulders, dipping your head down gingerly in a flustered haze, primarily because you have never done this with him, let alone said such a thing, and the tremble of his hands on you says so much with so little. he connects your lips again, nodding into it as a sign of approval.

his shaky hands move to the backs of your upper thighs, keeping a strong grip as he warily lifts you up. by instinct, your legs wrap around his waist as your arms did around his neck, and he grins into the kiss.

he brings you to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him and coming to a halt when his knees hit the mattress, settling you down onto the sheets as if you were a delicacy.

michael wastes no time in peppering kisses down your body—your jaw, neck, your collarbones for a moment too long before moving to your inner thighs.

your panties are so embarrassingly damp from your arousal, and his bottom lip quivers as his breath hitches from the mere sight of you soaked.  

he leaves a burning, wet trail of kisses up your thigh up until he feels a hand in his hair, upping his head to avert his attention to you. and suddenly, his eyes slightly widen as he grows meek at his actions, a red tint bleeding up to the tips of his ears.

almost instantly, you clamp your thighs together. “w-wait,” you squeak, and your mouth goes dry. never in your life have you felt more self-conscious, and even more when you feel as though you’ve fissured the moment. humiliation bounds around your muscles and renders you stiff.

the cognisance roots itself into his skin in prickles. his eyes change into something gentler, his brows fleetly lifting before pressing together lightly. he scans your face, looking for an ounce of jest in your expression, because frankly, he can’t wrap his head around how the woman he loves most, the woman who is so incredibly perfect in his eyes, could be thinking negatively about herself. and yet, he finds none.

hand leisurely settling on your thigh, he caresses your skin so tenderly it almost burns, radiating into your chest and down to your core. “mama, you’re so perfect,” he coos, and there’s nothing but pure sincerity dowsed in his voice, your cheeks growing so hot you think he can see it. “i hope you see yourself as i see you. i'll make you feel so, so right, just—please… let me please you. i want to feel like i deserve you, let me—just,” his breath trembles, voice breaking just slightly, so devoutly and longingly you could only take a pause.

and then he glances up.

his eyes glimmer and practically pleads, brows creasing up, and so incredibly desirous it messes with your head. you take your bottom lip amidst your teeth.

barely through your nod, michael's eyes go wide and pries your legs back open, diving down between them and sweetly kissing your inner thighs as a finger twirls around the cotton of the only thing keeping your pretty pussy away from him. the shudder of your breath only urges him further, only cutting short when he reaches too closely, taking another glimpse of you to make certain it’s alright.

rather than a nod, or even a simple yes, he receives your hands tangling themselves in his hair, and that’s all the confirmation he needs.

he slides off your panties almost frantically, precariously pulling ‘til they fall neatly on the hardwood of the floor, raising your leg over his shoulder as the other locks your leg down in a meek, yet firm grip. michael revels in the sight of you all soaked for him so pretty, tentatively staring before a slight tug of his hair spurs him on, shyly dropping his head between your thighs.

he leaves a soft kiss to you, something experimental as his hot breath fans your cunt, fingertips digging into the back of your knee more so for himself. and without thinking, he licks a long, tantalising stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and your mouth gapes, slipping a whimper from your throat. “m-mikey, th-that feels so good—” you scarcely manage, words jumbling in your head as you struggle to make them coherent.

your flavour on his tastebuds intoxicate him and cloud his mind, nose bumping against your bud and savouring your taste as he licks up greedily, humming against you, inducing a choked noise out of your mouth. wrapping his lips around your clit, you pull on his hair with a whine.

“you sound so pretty.” he smiles into your cunt as his tongue probes you. “taste s’sweet—” he cuts himself off like he can’t keep away from your taste for long, hungrily burying himself back into you and swirling his tongue around your clit.

it doesn’t take long for his narrowly reserved pace to speed up as he eats you like he’s been starved of this for far too long, moans muffling against you as your body jolts at the pleasure. his tongue pushes past your folds, messily fucking you with his tongue, barely acknowledging the saliva running down his chin. every little sound of his vibrates up your spine, mewling at each one.

generously, your juices coat his lips and the surrounding skin, legs almost buckling if not for his hold on you. your breath catches in your throat before you choke out a cry of his name, and his ears instantly perk.

he craves to hear it again.

without thought, or even with him regarding it, he brings two digits to you and buries them in the warmth of your cunt, a sob almost immediately ripping through your throat. he laps at you as if it’s the only thing he knows how, nose harshly pushing your clit upward before giving it a suck again.

all he can think about is you—your smell suffocating him so sweetly, your essence all over his face, how responsive you are, all of it driving further and fogging his head. you have not the slightest clue of what you do to him. he wants so badly for you to fall apart right on his tongue, and he’s gonna have it. his tongue enters you again, and you can feel how it drives deeper and deeper, walls fluttering around his muscle as he relishes in your aroma and taste as he loses himself further in you. lewd, filthy noises of him slurping stills in the air, your pants and moans drowning it as your back arches off the mattress, his hand travelling under your thighs to hold your hips down, and your leg instantly closes around his head, only pushing him deeper as his groan hits right to your clit.

his fingers curl inside you again, his eyebrows drawn taut with immersion, eliciting a strangled mix of a whine and a sob from your mouth, quietly gasping reiterates of his name. “baby,” he muffles, refusing to stray from your taste, “wan’ hear you…”

a vulgar string of drawn-out whimpers fall from your lips before his name slips again in a loud moan, squeezing at your hip as he groans in pure satisfaction, pumping his fingers increasingly hastier, the squelch of your walls hitting his ears so obscene he begins to rock against the mattress.

“mikey—please, mh, i think i’m g-gonna…” you barely shove the words out of your mouth as you pant out, legs shaking around his head, waves of pleasure threatening to crash over you with each waking second.

you didn’t have to forewarn him in the slightest. not when he can taste and feel you so undeniably in his mouth—how the band of your lower tummy tightens as your walls succeed, back fighting to arch off the bed, nails digging into his scalp and tugging on his curls.

“i know, pretty… let go f’me, please, baby. need to taste you—mm, wan’ try something,” he mutters breathlessly, pulling away fleetly to take his digits out of you, tentatively pressing his thumb down on your clit as you writhe at the sensation, ecstacy overwhelming your senses as your orgasm ripples through your body, and michael is quick to attach his mouth back on you to lap at your juices.

“mmpfh—mh, taste as good as y’sound—oh,” he moans as he completely engulfs himself into your taste, thumb beginning to lazily draw circles on your bundle of nerves as his tongue plunges into you as if you’re the only thing that’ll quench his perennial thirst, and you pull at his hair, eliciting an elated sound from him.

“t-too much!” you cry, voice increasing in pitch as your trembling legs unwillingly wrap him into you nearer, contrasting as you wholly try to push him away.

withdrawing himself from you pains him more than he can feel.

but when he does, his eyes meet yours, pupils dilated and swallowing the brown of his iris, and with a brief glance down, his lips gleam in the dim light, drenched in you, chin dripping with your arousal, the sight immediately rushing heat up your neck and into your cheeks.

then his eyes flash with guilt. “baby,” he says, voice is trickling with urgency as his tongue darts out to taste yourself on his lips, still covetous even as he apologises, “i’m so sorry, pretty, i should’ve stopped—‘m sorry, are you okay?” his large hand caresses your quivering inner thigh and kneads the skin there, free hand finding perch on the plush of the bed next to your other thigh, propping himself up as the mattress dips with the weight of his knee. his other knee settles beside your hip, the hand that assisted him in climbing on the bed landing on the sheets behind you, his disparate hand never halting motion on your skin.

michael’s eyes flicker between yours, big and hazy, glutted with concern as though he’d done something unable to be pardoned. you can only scoff, the tip of your index tracing his jaw without a thought, and you take in the sight of his eyes briefly splaying as your finger wipes your arousal off his jaw. his breath stutters once you reach his chin, flicking your finger off and cupping his cheek as fast as you jerked your finger, gently coaxing him in before your lips meet again in a tender kiss.

he melts into it instantly, the hand rubbing your thigh flying to hold the small of your back. drawing averse, he pants as he murmurs a hot string of babbles of how he adores your taste, a breath-width away from your lips before he delves back, pushing his tongue in your mouth to help you taste your flavour. “y’taste like a dream,” he sighs into your mouth, smiling against your lips with gratitude more than anything. the flavour of your essence mingled with michael’s own taste is enough to take a precedent swelling moan out of you and into his ears, to which he drinks with the same indebtedness.

heedlessly sliding your heel toward you, your knee lifts and catches itself when it makes the slightest contact with the aching tent in michael’s slacks he’d been desperately trying to disregard, a whimper leaving him as quick as his head dips in the crook of your neck, hand holding back from squeezing your skin in a fit of self-restraint. he’d been holding back. “mike,” you mutter just loud enough to reach his ears as he barely manages to lift his head, eyes locking to yours with a critical aching need consumed in his gaze—something you can’t bear to pay no heed to. “let me take you.”

who are you not to repay him?

your words come sheepish, timid, yet to him it hits with a newfangled ripple of unadulterated need searing ardently through his veins. you gesture to the edge of the bed with a tilt of your chin. he knows better than to ask how despite his struggle to credit the prospect of you taking him in any of the perverted ways that is on his mind. he heaves himself away from you. jointly, you find your way to the contrasting cold of the floorboards from the warmth of his sheets. the cold almost instantly dissipates under the contact of your knees as michael seats himself on the outskirt of the mattress with untrained eyes indulging in how your eyes look under the dim light as your attention flickers to his trousers.

and a rush of deep red amasses into his cheeks, mouth parted, yet producing no sound as he catches his breath at the fleeting recognition. “oh—wait,” he says, his usual soft tone welling with uncertainty as well as a faint, almost eager undercurrent—which he can’t veil when your eyes find their way to his once more.

“i can’t…” he takes a deep swallow, “no, i can’t let you do that, pretty, you shouldn’t be down there doin’ somethin’ like… that,” he speaks already as though he floundered to make something articulate.

“you’ve helped me, haven't you? can’t i do the same?”

he stammers as his head tries to conjure a valid reason against yours. “let me, baby.” your hand taps his knee, a smile playing at his lips like it always does when you call him that, yet an unfamiliar, almost heated shiver wriggles up his spine at the tap of your finger. “i want to.”

his dire need garners and gluts his senses as the allure of your glim unwavering causes his reason to fail him, both mingling into something he’s impotent to reject. he parts his lips, though not without reluctance. “you’re sure?” he asks, however, by this time, your leisure taps move into full-on caresses, and his limbs draw themselves tense. and before you could answer, your unplanned touch ignites a feeling that travels through his veins with haste. “ah- ah, it’s… why is it— why does… okay, okay,” he qualms as the emergent bulge beneath his pants begins to sore like he’s never felt before, his lower abdomen burning. is it supposed to feel like this? he didn’t know it could get this bad, and embarrassment seeps through his bones.

with his wince and agreement, briskly, you tug on his pants as he lifts himself from the sheets so you can slide them off, the fabric leaving his skin also leaving a fire with them as ardour hums everywhere in his body. and as your hands make contact with the waistband of his underwear, an unmistakable wet patch that formed a while ago from his generous amount of precum visible to you, his mind, as well as his heart, racing.

his hands aviate to cover his face when you free him from the confinements of his briefs. as soon as the cold air hits him, his mind races a slew of protests.

you’re too pretty to be down there. this is so dirty. on your knees is so, so dirty—as if he didn’t just eat you out and would do it for hours if you just let him. what if you think it’s… i dunno, ugly? you shouldn’t be doin’ something like this. he shouldn’t have accepted, but how could he not when desire settles and rattles his bones? the words weigh on his tongue until he can’t carry it any longer, lips parting to give way to his protest.

with such tenderness his heart aches, your plush lips wrap around his mauve tip, previously coated in precum with now your saliva, and the words lodge in his throat almost violently as a hearty wail ousts it. your eyes flick up just in time to view the hands shielding his face trembling and moving down, revealing his crimson-painted cheeks with his brows creased and oh, what a sight it is. his hands descend to steal a glimpse of your mouth around his length, and from the mere gander, a whimper slips his throat.

you have never thought of such about him when you finally viewed him. tip slick with so much precum, the mere sight already soaking you again, veins running prettily along his length. if he’d been looking at you earlier, he’d see the way you were gaping him with such awe. as if he couldn’t get any more perfect, this sure solidified it.

you give him initially shy kitten licks on his tip, whimpers already spilling out of his mouth before you start lapping, savouring the taste of his leaking slit before moving down—though not without taking a hefty inhale first—his big hands finding purchase in your locks.

the sight is so filthy to see. how you meld to him, engulfing his dick and letting him feel the warmth of your mouth, dim light shimmering in the shade of tears stilling in your waterline. his hands twine themselves in your hair and gently tugs as your hands wrap around the area you can’t reach with solely your mouth. lifting your head up and off of him, your tongue traces along his prominent vein, applying pressure with which his head starts to swirl at as his hips jerk without his say. he’s grateful he didn’t do that while he was in your mouth—until it happens.

your lips envelop him, bringing him back into the warmth of your mouth, swallowing him as your hand experimentally squeezes his base. before you could ask if that felt okay, his hips thrust up into your mouth again, and he’s immediately spewing apologies. he loves it so much, and you’ll do it again if it means eliciting that mewl out of him again. you pull yourself up from him with a pop, hands working his shaft to replace the absence of your mouth.

“i didn’t mean to… oh, ‘m s’sorry,” his words slur as your hand unwavers, and he’s sneaking his bottom lip between his teeth as you finding leverage on his shirt, yanking him toward you and colliding your lips together in a hot, muddled kiss, interjecting his effort to suppress the noises slipping from his lips so he could speak. his slick on your tongue transferring to his tastebuds spins his mind as a hand to your hair moves to your cheek.

your arm wraps around his neck, hand tugging on his shirt as he sets out a whimper to your mouth before complying, breaking off the kiss so he can lift his shirt up and over his head only to reattach your lips to his just as quickly as he hurls the fabric to who-knows-where in the room. you break it off once more. “stop apologizing,” you whisper, squeezing as you pump him, thumb rubbing along his prominent vein glossed in your spit, and a cry tears through him as he pulls himself back with his hands tangling in your hair again. licking a long stripe, your hands settle back near his base anew before you have him back in your mouth, unconsciously humming against him as the vibrations shooting up his spine expels themselves in moans.

“th-that… that feels weird, mgh, do it again… please,” he mutters breathlessly. your cheeks hollow, and his head throws back as his oozing tip brushes the hind of your throat, his bottom lip quivering when you bob your earnestly. oh, you look perfect like this—hair tussled from his tugs, lips moulded to his shaft, eyes glossy and cheeks flushed a rosy tint, peeking through your eyelashes to glance at his expression, eyes falling to his abs coated in a light sheen of sweat before shutting your eyes again—something he doesn’t fail to miss.

“y-you have such a pretty mouth—ah, feels so—” he blabs, cut short by his own whimper. his hips stutter at the feel of you rotating your wrist, one hand moving down from your scalp to caress your cheek, tracing along your jaw with gentle, yet jagged lines as he strains to keep his head steady. as his tip hits the back of your throat once more, you ardently fight your gag reflex, throat tightening around him as he fills with concern. “can you—ngh,” he cries, “breathe? o-oh, baby—” his hand draws taut in your hair, and when you peek up, tears are stinging his waterline. “baby, please,” he pleads, voice cracking, “i can’t… i don’t wanna c-cum like this,” he divulges, gripping the sheets with his hand formerly on your cheek with a firm hold.

michael’s arm, placed precariously behind him with his hand outward and grasping the sheets for poise, collapses as his strength leaves him, his elbow hitting the mattress. and generously, craving to fulfill his desires, you climb on the bed and move to the left of him as he discerns you with impressive haste, pushing himself back so his legs won’t dangle out of the mattress anymore.

propping your knees to either side of him, you hover your sopping cunt above his waiting dick as tenderly, he kneads the side of the small of your back—more so for himself. and when he finally regards what you’re about to do, his object is cut short by his tip prodding your entrance, and your whimpers mingle with the burning aroma of the space.

gradually, sorely, you sink down into him, both of his hands flying to your lower back, nails digging divots into your skin as his cock twitches inside of you, forcing a whine from your throat. he’s filling you up, head falling low as whimpers leave you in strings. your hands head for his shoulders as gently, he brings you in until you embrace, tilting his head and whispering tenderly in your ear. “y’r doin’ so well, ma… jus’ a little— m-ore,” he coos, sighing barely through the latter, unable to mask the garbled moans that escape his mouth.

“o-oh my—mike,” you choke out, shaking with each inch you descend as your grip on his shoulders grow firm, then weak again. his arms tremble as they assist you in falling into him, whining dulcet in your ear as the feeling of being stuffed overwhelms your system before you’re to the hilt. you pant against his chest as he does your head, his hand tracing leisure, consoling circles to your skin.

the moment you finally pull off him, the sweat coating his torso clings to your shirt before you fully asunder. the hold you have on his shoulders linger as you begin to move, his breaths coming ragged and in a medley of bursts and drags. “hoh, you…” he swallows deeply, “y’feel s’ warm, so tight… oh, you’re s’tight—didn’t know it felt like this, oh,” he cries, and when your head lifts, tears are threatening to fall and lacquer a watery line down his cheeks. the sight alone makes you clench down on him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest and sending searing flurries of heat through his veins as you find your rhythm.

his hands work to guide your hips, bucking his up with every pummel he ushers from you, clit brutally bumping against his pelvis with each. his name falls from you, breathy and mingled with his plethora of babbles as your nails bore crescents in his shoulders, your eyelids fluttering shut and back open just to see the blissed out expression adorned on his comely face. his thumb caressing your inner hip falters when you roll your hips on him without his guidance, his hands tightening around you and rocking you down, and with it, a tear that was stilled in his eyes finally founders and leaves a line of salty liquid as it falls, then another—but that one mixes in his sweat. the feeling of your walls suffocating him leaves him delirious, but the notion of you exhausting yourself up there pains him, and oh, he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep still. and it doesn’t at all take long for him to act.

his hands grasp stiff and unyielding to your hips, flipping you both and stealing you of your breath as he snaps his hips and rips a lewd sound that lands somewhere between a mewl and a cry from your achy throat. he grabs firm to your shirt and briskly tugs it over your head and off to somewhere in the room as swiftly as he had flipped you.

he gapes at you from this newfound angle of being on top of you, and it knocks a strained grunt out of his parted lips as he begins to move. “mikey, w-what—ah! mh, ke-keep going, please…” you sob as his dick drags in your gummied walls, melding each ridge and vein of him into you and stretching you impossibly more than you already have been. eyes ripping from yours, his burning stare is pulled to where you two join, and michael ogles at how his cock continuously buries and disappears into the warmth of your sweet cunt. each thrust forms a frothy ring of his precum and your arousal at his base, his eyes eagerly drinking up the sight before his fixation moves just slightly up.

his pupils blow wide when they land on the swell outline of his dick in your tummy, and from the sight alone he chokes out a strangled moan. “am…” he pants as his hands move near your navel, “am i doin’ that?” he presses lightly on your abdomen as he bucks his hips a tad harsher than intended, and your body quivers, back arching off the sheets as his tip dotingly kisses your cervix, letting his head fall as well as his jaw.

with the shift in your positions, the feverish newfound angle has his cock hitting deep into the sponge tissue of your sex, and your mouth gapes. “th-there! right there, mikey, please…” your whimpers are drowned by the lewd noises of his pelvis slamming against your moist skin as his pace grows relentless at your spur.

all that consumes him is how your hot cunt sucks him in and the filthy squelch that comes with it. his dewy eyes dart between your disheveled face and the curve of his dick bulging from your stomach, and when your walls clamp down on him again, he shuts his eyes, the salty droplets that had settled in the rim of his eyes rolling down his rouge tinted cheeks and falling from his chin. “you’re… y’r squeezin’ me—hoh,” he moans, head reeling as his hands hastily shrithe to envelope your torso, slogging to refrain from collapsing on you as he lowers until you’re wholly flush against his clammy chest. he strains a throaty mix of a huff and a whine against your cheek before smashing his lips onto yours in a searing kiss, his hand caressing your side and leaving heat where it was once placed.

each snap of his hips have him continuously ramming into and abusing the sweet dip in the inlay of your womb. the bedframe gashing the paint off the wall with every rock accompanies the wet plaps of skin slapping skin and the descants of your fused moans—sounds that send tingles through michael’s body—sounds he’s eager to devour. his swollen lips trails wet kisses down to your lower lip, your chin, and to your jaw, and you let your head fall back only for michael to capture your lips in his again, your raised head only deepening the sloppy motions of your mouth against his, and you squirm as you struggle to keep up, for each buck of his hips swirls your head absurdly further.

his head falls into the dip of your neck, panting against your skin, your pussy pulsing around his length as your abdomen twists. “mh, mikey, hoh! ‘m s-sssso close,” you choke, hands clutching at his shoulders and the flesh of his upper arms as you clamp around him, suctioning his girth deliciously as he brings a hand to return to your belly, the pressure from his wring reducing your mind to a haze of nothing but him.

“i-i’m close too, ohmy—oh, wh-where should i… do i do it—” he’s cut short by his own cry and swallow, “inside? wan’ me to pull out?”

you claw at his back, only mustering a frantic shake of your head, holding him firm in place, his large hand once on your belly trembling as he takes a soft hold to your cheek. the rhythmic pace of his thrusts grow sloppy, overbrimming with primal need, to which your sight distorts ‘til you’re convinced the whites clouding your vision are clusters of stars.

the hot coil in your lower abdomen snaps when he fills you to the hilt again, your body falling limp, cunt throbbing around him as ripples of pleasure glut your being, creaming his dick and gushing on the sheets as he helps you ride out your orgasm. michael’s mouth hangs open, slurring a series of moans and incohesive blabs as he soaks in every contortion of your face, the bucking of his hips turning desperate. he buries himself in you wholly when his warm seed spills and earnestly coats your velvety walls in white, filling you so full with his release it shows with a mere glance at your tummy.

the both of you stay like this for a little while—panting against each other’s skin as he stills inside of you, the dripping of cum spilling out your sopping cunt and droplets running down his length eliciting quivers out of you two until he slowly drags his leaking cock out of the warmth of your sex. “are… are you okay?” he breathes before raising his head from the comfort of the curve of your neck, meeting your dazed eyes as his thumb grazes your cheekbone. 

his curls cling to the clammy skin of his forehead, eyes hazy and pupils blown wide, lips red and swollen. “mhm,” you hum, nodding your head as a smile adorns his elated face. with one last peck to your lips, he heaves himself up and off the mattress, heading to his restroom and back with a cloth before he settles himself between your aching thighs again. his cheeks flush a deep red upon the sight, shyly swiping the cloth to wipe away the mingled essences of the both of you, and as he progresses closer to your core, your body flinches and some of his seed seeps further out of you, and his teeth tug on his lower lip as he can’t seem to pull his eyes away.

when he finishes up, he plants a tender kiss to your inner thigh. he then waits outside the door of the restroom as you use the toilet shortly thereafter. by now, you two are slunk back up, although hodieral in pyjama attire.

the moment he hears the twist of the doorknob and feels the wind prompted by the swinging of the door, he’s already on you—lips crashing onto yours in an untrained, yet gentle kiss as he devours each of your laughs, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips as he backs you into the bed and sends the both of you collapsing onto the plush pillows.

the last thing you’re able to recall is how his lips travel to your cheek, leaving sweet pecks in between ‘thank you’s before your eyelids give out on you.

　　　　　　　　　© doemj.

𝓔RIS♡᭮ ⠀⠀ᯇ⠀⠀this took me a little to write cause this is my debut fic on mjblr…. i wanted to make certain i didn’t get anything wrong golly. thank you SOSOSOSO much for reading and if you enjoyed it make sure to SMASH that reblog button

[kalulapplehead]

you're such a baby

fluff skinship tender love

pairing: thriller era michael x fem!reader

summary: just michael being a total baby and craving back scratches

here's a little sweet fic for yall <3

the house is quiet, save for the soft, crackling hum of the television screen casting flickering blue light across the living room of hayvenhurst. it’s a saturday night, and for the first time in what feels like months, the house is empty. no hustle of family members, no housekeepers rushing about, no phones ringing. just you and michael.

he’s sprawled out across the velvet sofa, his long legs dangling off the edge while his head remains firmly anchored in your lap. the atmosphere is thick with a cozy, domestic lethargy. you’ve been running your fingers through his hair for a while, but he’s been restless, shifting his weight constantly, sighing with a dramatic, exaggerated flair that makes you chuckle.

"something wrong, baby?" you tease, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his forehead.

he lets out a deep, rumbling "hmm," the sound vibrating against your thighs. he doesn't open his eyes, he just tilts his chin up, his expression one of pure, unadulterated neediness. "it’s my back, angel," he murmurs, his voice a velvety, sleepy croak.

“everything feels so tight. you’ve been ignoring my back for ten whole minutes.”

you laugh softly, shifting your hand from his hair down to his shoulders, kneading the tension out of his muscles. "there, better?"

"yeah..." he lets out a contented, elongated sound, his body instantly going limp under your touch. he presses his face deeper into your lap, nuzzling against you like a kitten. "that's nice... but keep going lower.”

“right between my shoulder blades. yeah, right there."

you can’t help but burst into a soft laugh, your shoulders shaking slightly as you look down at him. the way he’s so demanding yet so sweet is honestly too much to handle.

"you are such a bossy baby," you tease, a playful glint in your eyes as you lightly run your nails down his spine. "first you’re silent, and now you’re giving me specific coordinates."

he lets out a low, muffled giggle against your stomach, his hand tightening around your waist. "i’m not being bossy," he mumbles, his voice thick with that sleepy, spoiled tone he only ever uses with you. "i’m just... guiding you to the best part."

you lean over, pressing your forehead against his hair, and whisper right into his ear, "oh, so you're a professional guide now, mr. jackson?"

he lets out a soft, breathy chuckle, his shoulders rising and falling with the sound. "only for you," he mumbles, his voice barely a murmur.

you can’t help yourself. he’s just too precious when he’s this relaxed. you start by pressing a lingering, tender kiss right to his temple, then another just above his eyebrow. he sighs, his eyes closing tighter, his entire face softening as he practically leans into the affection, his body humming with contentment.

you trail your kisses down his cheek, pressing soft, butterfly-light pecks along his jawline. he shivers under your touch, a small, involuntary movement that makes your heart swell. "mmhh, mama..." he whispers, his voice thick with a sleepy, lovesick daze.

"oh michael," you tease, pressing one last, firm kiss to the corner of his mouth, which makes him smile against your skin.

he lets out another "hmm," a soft, breathy sound of approval. he’s completely melted, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, pulling you closer so that there isn't a single inch of space between you.

"you’re such a baby.." you whisper, watching the way his eyelashes flutter every time you apply a little more pressure.

"i'm just spoiled," he replies, his voice low and drowsy. "by you. nobody else knows how to rub my back like this. it’s like... it’s like you know exactly where the knots are."

he shifts again, wriggling deeper into your lap, his back arching just enough to invite more pressure. he’s shivering slightly under your touch, a soft, involuntary reaction to the friction. "mmhh, mama, you have the magic touch. i could stay like this for a hundred years and never get bored."

he sighs again, a long, shaky sound that seems to empty his lungs of all the stress from the week. he’s so relaxed that his hand, which was gripping your shirt, begins to loosen. he’s completely succumbed to the comfort of the night, his eyes squeezed shut, a small, blissful smile playing on his lips. he looks so peaceful, so far away from the stage and the flashing bulbs, just a man in love in his own home.

after a few more minutes of rhythmic stroking, he goes quiet, but he’s clearly not satisfied with the barrier of his shirt anymore. he reaches behind him, his fingers finding your wrist and guiding your hand down toward the hem of his clothing, his thumb stroking your skin urgently.

"under," he murmurs, his voice breathless and sweet, eyes flickering open just to lock onto yours with that familiar, boyish vulnerability. "please, ma? it’s not enough... i need to feel your skin.”

your hand is already tucked inside his shirt, your warm palm resting against the smooth, sensitive skin of his lower back. as you slowly guide your hand downward, moving from his shoulder blades toward his waist and the curve of his lower back—those spots that always seem to be his absolute undoing—he lets out a sharp, surprised gasp that quickly dissolves into a series of breathless giggles.

"yes... god, that's it," he mumbles, his voice thick with a mixture of ticklish delight and pure comfort.

he is absolutely vibrating with the sensation. as you trace circles right above his hips, his entire body jerks against you, and he buries his face even deeper into your stomach, nuzzling into the soft fabric of your clothes. he’s like a happy, lovesick kitten, rubbing his cheek and nose back and forth against you, making soft, needy sounds that make your heart melt.

"mmhh... ah, you’re trying to kill me, aren't you?" he lets out a long, shaky sigh, his breath hot against your stomach. "that feels... oh, it feels so good."

you can’t help the playful smirk that spreads across your face, seeing the most famous man on earth completely undone by something as simple as your touch. you press your fingertips into his lower back, just enough to make him arch his spine and shudder.

"you're a sensitive baby, michael," you whisper, trailing your nails lightly over his skin, teasing him. "are you enjoying that? or should i stop?"

he lets out a low, desperate-sounding moan, his grip on your waist tightening instantly as he shakes his head against your stomach. "no! don't you dare stop. i’ll never forgive you if you stop," he laughs, a bubbly, musical sound that is pure innocence. "you’re so mean, teasing me like this... you know exactly what you’re doing to me, don't you?"

he starts nuzzling harder into you, his nose and lips grazing your skin as he wiggles his hips, trying to get more of your hand against his back. he’s completely uninhibited, all his defenses down, just soaking in the attention like a sponge.

"you’re just so soft," he hums, his voice muffled and sleepy as he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your stomach through your clothes. "i could stay here forever. just you, me, and your hands on my back..”

tag list: @meowwnchild @erenstitanweave @daniaalhaid @j5rneymercies @tenderlyboundlessparagon @moonwalkarchives @heyitsconysstuff @platanita @blepblep2807

[theonlyonlinefish]

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧| 𝐌.𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧

Synopsis: When you arrive at an exclusive gala with a date on your arm, the last person you expect to see is your ex, Michael. One look across the ballroom is all it takes to unravel months of moving on, forcing both of you to confront feelings that never truly disappeared

Smut, jealous!michael, penetration, making out, creampie, & simultaneous orgasms

The taste of champagne sizzled on your tongue as you enjoyed your second glass. From your seat you could see perfectly on the main stage, the auctioning of different paintings going up and listening to the highest bidder take a crack at it

This was your first time at an event like this and your nerves were through the roof. Every five minutes you were messing with your hair or reapplying lipstick to make sure you looked perfect. You were a plus one guest to tonight’s charity gala—raising funds for children in need

Your date leaned over and kissed your cheek making you blush. Placing your hand over his before stroking it gently. He reminded you of how perfect you were in his eyes and you had nothing to worry about but for some reason you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease

Grabbing your mirror one last time you began checking your makeup surrounding your nose and lips, staring at your reflection you caught a glimpse of the man from a round table just across from you. Staring directly into your gaze with a look on his face—a smirk with anger hidden behind it

You gasped slightly once you came to realization it was your ex lover, Michael. The same Michael that you had to walk away from for your own sake. The same Michael that still held your heart in the palm of his hands and he didn’t even know it

Immediately you slammed your mirror shut as you felt yourself growing sick

“Is everything okay?” Your date asked while squeezing your thigh

“Y-Yeah I just—“

Unexpectedly one of the waitresses working the event came to your table with a glass of bubbling champagne, carefully placing it on your table with a note “For you ma’am”

Carefully you grabbed the note, immediately you recognized the hand writing making your heart beat faster

You look beautiful.

Still think you look better next to me.

—M

You can’t lie and say this didn’t make you wet with such a bold statement but it also pissed you off that he was so full of himself. Scoffing at the note you crumbled it up and pushing your drink away

“Do you mind if we leave early? I don’t feel good”

Your date seemed concerned about your well being and ushered you out the event. But not before passing Michael sitting at the bar alone, the two of you made eye contact for a quick glance and you knew him well enough to know that his eyes weren’t happy. No one else could read his eyes like you and they were full of sadness. Michael looked at you then your date before turning his focus back to his drink. Downing the remaining cup of whiskey

As you arrived in front of your front door your date stood with you unsure of what to say, you wasted no time trying to hurry and unlock your door. Just before he grabbed your arm trying to stop you

“Wait” he said “Are you sure you’re okay? Because I noticed your mood completely changed and even as I drove you home you barely said a full sentence”

“Oh yeah” you slight giggled “I just—I have a really bad stomach ache. I’m gonna lay down as soon as I get inside”

“Do you need anything?” He offered

“No I’m okay, thank you you’re really sweet”

He leaned forward trying to kiss you and for some reason you couldn’t allow yourself to kiss him, moving your head to dodge the kiss. He opened your eyes seemingly embarrassed

“I’m sorry. I just don’t know if this is contagious the last thing I wanna do is get you sick”

“Right…” he sounded defeated

“I’ll call you later okay? Promise”

He watched you walk inside and lock your door before driving away. You on the other hand pressed yourself into the door and took a deep breath as you felt your tears threatening to spill

You hadn’t seen Michael in months and you convinced yourself that everything was fine. But seeing him brought back emotions that you swore were buried deep down

Shortly, your doorbell rang causing you to wipe your face and open the door. To your surprise it was Michael standing at your door. Seeing Michael standing face to face with you caused your heart rate to increase—the both of you nervous as ever to be within this close proximity to each other

“Michael? What—what are you doing here?”

He didn’t reply right away but instead he stepped inside your home and shut the door behind him

“You looked beautiful tonight. I was surprised to see you there”

“Michael I know you didn’t come all the way across town just to tell me that now what do you want?”

He raised his eyebrows at you seeming surprised at your response “Your tone—it’s cute” he smirked

“So how long have you been dating whatever his name is?”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms “So that’s what this is about?”

“Yes…actually that’s what it is. Now quit dodging my question”

“It’s only been a couple weeks. Now leave.” You said sternly

“Are you happy?”

You hesitated to answered “That’s none of your business Michael”

“Do you love him?”

“Why is that any of your business?”

“Do you miss me?”

You completely froze in your tracks—Michael stepped closer to you , pushing a curl out of your face and stroking your chin. You immediately shoved his hand away

“I don’t think my date would appreciate you being here nor asking me all these questions”

“Oh yeah?” He chuckled “So did he appreciate what I did to you on your birthday a couple weeks ago?”

Suddenly your confidence broke, the power switch happened that fast. The cockiness on your face now transferred over to Michael, allowing him to step closer to you. Brushing his thumb against your lips

A few weeks ago you went out with your best friends and got belligerent drunk and the night ended with you making a phone call to Michael. The night ending with you in his bed after cumming multiple times. He took care of you the entire night and through your hangover but as soon as you returned home you went back to your routine of acting like he doesn’t exist for your sake

“You know—if I didn’t know you or your body well enough maybe I would’ve fell for your bullshit. But I know you better than anybody else. I know you well enough to know you’re wet underneath that dress and if you really wanted me to leave you would’ve done it”

Michael stepped closer to you closing the gap between the two of you and pressing you up against the wall, his lips gazing from your eyes down to your lips then back at your eyes. The two of you breathing heavy against one another

“So I’m gonna ask you again baby girl…do you love him?”

You shook your head no, unable to look away from his gaze

“Do you miss me like I miss you?”

You nodded yes, allowing a tear to spill from your eye. Michael smiled sweetly and kissed your tear away as he snaked his hands around your back and unzipped your dress while kissing up and down your neck

“I missed you so much Michael” you whispered in his ear as he undressed you and picked you up by your thighs and carried you to the couch

“I never stopped missing you”

He grabbed your breasts and admired them before kissing and sucking on both nipples. You stared down at Michael pulling off his hat and running your fingers through his curls “Just like that” you moaned

As he continued sucking your breasts you unbuttoned his top and pulling off his clothes before forcing him to stop sucking your nipples making a suction sound and you stuck your tongue in his mouth and grinding into him

Michael’s hands caressed the back of your head as he kept you in place and twirling his tongue around his before sucking on it, making you moan in his mouth. Your hands made it below his waist and quickly unfastened his belt and unbuckled his pants, his hips raised allowing you to pull them down and pull his dick out

You stroked it a couple times making Michael groan. His hands pressing over your hips and guiding you on top of his dick gently allowing you to sit on him. Your head slowly jolted back but Michael forced you to stare at him to catch your reaction “I missed this beautiful face of yours”

Both of your feet planted into the sofa and you began bouncing up and down on his dick while Michael guides you through words of affirmation and his hands squeezing your breasts. Your hands wrapped around his neck for stability

“Baby keep looking at me please” he pleaded

You nodded your head in submission and sped up the pace “God I missed this so much”

“Oh yeah? How much?”

You whimpered as you felt yourself becoming wetter around Michael feeling his girthy dick throb inside of you. As you rotated your hips on him you discovered new sensations that had never been noticed before

“I thought about you everytime I touched myself” you admitted

Michael ran his tongue across his lips watching your breasts jiggle up and down and your moans growing louder with each bounce on his shaft. He wrapped his arms around you and began thrusting in you from underneath you. Your fingers dug into his shoulders and you screamed out Michael’s name, this was one of your favorite positions that he would perform on you

“You let him touch you didn’t you?”

The question caught you off guard but it was hard for you to speak with all the pleasure you were taking in. Michael didn’t like that you weren’t answering the question and it irritated him thinking that another man may have seen you so vulnerable, because in his eyes you were still his woman

Unsatisfied with your nonsense he flipped the two of you over, you now lying on your back while Michael began digging inside of you. Your legs in the air as his hand gripped your jaw tightly forcing you to look at him

“Did. You. Let. Him. Touch. You?” Each pause was him stroking inside of you harder and deeper inside of you

“No!” You screamed out

Michael kissed your jawline then your ear “ You still mad at me?”

“No” you whimpered “I could never stay mad at you baby—I thought about you all the time”

“I’m sorry for not being there for you” kissing your forehead repeatedly “I didn’t prioritize you and it cost me somebody I love the most. Can you forgive me please?”

You ran your fingers over Michael’s face, stroking under his eyes and feeling his sweat collecting on your fingers & staring in his eyes

“All I wanted was for you to say you were sorry”

“I won’t mess up again I promise”

Michael cursed under his breath and tightened his jaw temporarily before looking back at you, feeling your walls tighten around him

“Baby I need for you to cum with me okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Yes baby—anything for you” nodding your head

Michael pressed both of your thighs forward giving him access to thrust in you deeper forcing the both of you to cum in sync, Michael still stroking in you as you both felt the wave take over.

Hot tears spilled out feeling your orgasm take lead “Oh my God!” You gasped digging your nails into his back as he sucked on your jawline, still cumming inside of you

“You don’t know how badly I missed this, I couldn’t even look at another woman the same way I did you. My favorite girl”

“I miss all of it” taking a deep breath “I missed us”

Still inside of you Michael collapsed on top of you smothering you with kisses before resting his face in the crook of your neck “Now’s all left for you is to call him and tell him you don’t ever wanna see him again”

And Michael was dead serious