sunsunki supremacy

[thewhimsyestfairy]

Makes me violently ill thinking about the future past or even present

[vanilladeer333]

[dafilovesyou]

[girl-rotting-xoxo]

[girl-rotting-xoxo]

[veliouris]

i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck i’m irritated as fuck

[swansical]

[suntinted]

[hoonguin]

iys time for my daily tumblr browser check ins how r u all doing (if u guys were gonna ask me no im not doing well accountancy is lowkey killing me rn but #yolo) anyways bye guys sorry im super indecisive..... but probably wont write anymore..... but im indecisive so i probably will....

[heeseung64]

real shit

[kissued]

UNDER PRESSURE ─── 박성훈 PARK SUNGHOON

GENRE + PAIRING ⋮ pure smut. your (seemingly) vanilla boyfriend discovers ropes after your accidental retweet ❤︎⁠

PAIRING ⋮ park sunghoon x fem!reader.

CONTENT WARNINGS ⋮ as stated above… smut. +18 only. piv 、 unprotected (do not) 、 mean dom!brat tamer hunghoon 、 bondage 、 he’s so fucking RUDE omg 、 spanking 、 edging 、 filming 、 reader watches porn and is a brat 、 sunghoon is so Jealous 、 petnames (slut, good girl) 、 degradation + praise 、 let me know if i missed any!

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⋮ u guys r nasty as fuck!! I AGREE!!! based on this request also idk why this keeps getting taken down urgh sorry. reblogs appreciated always! thank youu <3

you love your boyfriend. truly.

nothing could ever change that, nor do you think anything would—but god, was he gentle. it sounds a little ridiculous now that you say it out loud, even more when you recall the ridiculous plan of yours in your head, but it’s true. there are millions of girls who get on their knees and grovel at their lover’s feet for some gentle, passionate sex, but that just wasn’t you.

okay, that’s a little unfair to say—you loved it, yes, the same way you love how sunghoon groans every time he sits down on a chair because his back hurts, or when he’s a little too blunt for you not to laugh at. you love it because it’s him. god forbid you needed a little more, and the heavens knew you’d do anything but just ask.

too shy, too embarrassed, same thing. you don’t have enough courage, or any at all, to look park sunghoon in the eye and ask, ‘can you tie me up?’—so instead, you resort to secret retweets on an account no one looks twice at. who else is there to blame for the ache between your legs, if not you?

need hjm to tie me up n use me alll nightfuck [Post]

biiiig mistake. prime example of why you shouldn’t tweet half-asleep with your hands down your shorts, like some horny loser. posting tweets is an unusually fast affair—this would seem convenient to the average shitposter, but lord, not to you.

the tweet appeared in three seconds, right at the top of your timeline, next to a very mesmerizing selfie of yourself. you remember sunghoon picking the picture out, talking about how gorgeous your eyes looked, the way your lipstick shined on your lips, the glow of your skin through the screen—you laughed it off, nudged his shoulder, and made it your icon the same night.

so weird. your private account has a picture of chiikawa, not… you. why are you on your own timeline? hit tweet? is it glitching?

“oh my fucking god.”

the exact second you realize that the tweet was indeed not made on your private account, your heart drops straight through the mattress. any sleep that lingers in your body is immediately washed off of you in cold, shocking waves, leaving nothing behind but a gaping jaw and wide eyes.

deleting said tweet was also a fast affair, thank god. if you were lucky enough, nobody would’ve seen it. sunghoon, as chronically online as he may be, might still be at work and hence too busy to check your tweets—there’s just no way he got that notification, right? or maybe he doesn’t even have notifications on for your tweets at all, and you’re just spiralling for nothing.

the video was of this guy—he looked a little like sunghoon. smooth skin, warm underneath the dim light emanating from his desk lamp, cock flushed a dark pink from how pent up he is. it reminded you of your lover, though you had to admit that sunghoon’s was a little bigger (and prettier). you wonder if he’s waited all day to fuck the girl underneath him, the same way park sunghoon waits all day to come home to you, and the thought had survived all five seconds before it dissolved completely.

his arm reaches behind the camera. he pulls out red rope, thick and swirling in it’s pattern, vibrant compared to the scene of white bedsheets, stark in contrast to the woman’s flushed skin. she flinches when his fingertips run down her ribs, to her navel, stomach tensed like she knows what’s about to come—like it’s something she should be afraid of.

the video cuts to her face-down. her spine is arched so much that it reminds you of a crescent moon, bending at the man’s will, chest flush against the sheets with her ass perked up and slamming against his hips like it’s personally done him wrong. his hands are gripped around the rope tied around her hips, driving her back every time she tries to run away, and all she does is moan and cry and scream at how fucking good it feels.

the orgasm hit you so hard that it was humiliating. sunghoon will never have to know, he won’t ever need to know. sweet, innocent sunghoon, who’s never laid a hand on you, never offering a single touch that seemed to much to handle.

alls well that ends well. the tweet’s gone, your thighs are still shaking, and sunghoon’s probably too focused on driving to check your timeline. there’s just no way he would’ve seen it—

ding!

hoonie: Baby, is this what you want? 21:50

hoonie: [Attachment] 21:50

hoonie: You want me to tie you up and use you? 21:52

hoonie: Ignoring me isn’t gonna work. 22:00

hoonie: I’ll be home in 5. 22:00

oh, okay.

“stay still, won’t you?” sunghoon mumbles under his breath, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips before he pulls again. the veins in his biceps bulge under his skin as he works his way around your body, looping the black rope intricately, tight enough for it to leave your flesh spilling around the sides of it. “didn’t you ask for this? i even got the rope you wanted.”

your legs are the only parts he’s allowed freedom of movement. your arms bound to your back, a soft whimper claws it’s way involuntarily out of your throat when he tightens the final knot.

“i used to be good at doing these. a little sloppy now,” he clicks his tongue. sunghoon’s eyes glaze over you, almost in admiration of his own work. “summer camps came in handy. didn’t they, y/n?”

you grit your teeth, looking up at him through the gaps in your hair. you’d have moved them out of your face by now, but given your current predicament, you can’t do much else but stare at the man towering above you—clad in nothing but boxers that restrict his leaking cock, dark eyes lingering over your exposed chest where the thick rope leaves red imprints—one line crosses over your sternum, and another just under your breasts.

“what do you think? tight enough?”

god, if this isn’t karma, you don’t know what is. “shut up.”

sunghoon offers you a sympathetic yet equally infuriating smile. his knee dips into the mattress, in the space between your knees. “thank you for telling me. i never would’ve realized how gorgeous you look like this otherwise. such a blessing you are.”

“yeah, okay. i didn’t even—i was gonna delete it. i did, actually. were you fucking refreshing my page?”

“i have notifications on,” he responds bleakly. before you know it, his arms are reaching for the knot in the centre of your stomach, sitting an inch above your navel. “looks like you’re too slow, huh?”

is this what eve saw her first night on earth? in this moment, park sunghoon looks like temptation if it had a physical body. he smiles so cunningly that his teeth bares it’s fangs, glinting even under the warmth of your shared bedroom’s light, eyes never leaving yours. every breath that manages to escape your lungs is shaky, and for a brief second, you wonder if he can hear the fear in it.

“so? you just gonna tie me up and do nothing?” you manage to cough up. your gaze moves from his sharp v-line to his face, all dark and hungry and terrifying in it’s own right. “boring. you’re all talk. just surprised you could even get this far,” you wriggle your arms behind your back to show him. “now untie me.”

your lover doesn’t respond.

he stands still, one arm still resting against your belly with the other spreading your thighs apart—it’s instantaneous, abrupt, the moment the pressure on your inner thigh. sunghoon’s thumb digs deep into the flesh, making you squirm.

“i’m all talk?” he exhales, “i’m not untying you until you apologise.”

you scoff, blowing a puff of air towards your forehead. the hair falls obediently to the sides of your face, unfortunately, because sunghoon’s terrifying expression comes into full focus just seconds after. “for what? it was an accident. are you that sensitive?”

“don’t know. are you?”

“the fuck—“

you don’t realise that sunghoon’s hands have moved further down until his thumb presses firmly against your clit. “…are you sensitive, y/n?”

fucking hell. this is starting to piss you off, if anything. park sunghoon’s looking down at you like some poor creature, pout worn as if he had any real concern for you. his cock is literally growing bigger the longer you look at it.

you bite down on your lip as his fingers move—his middle finger traces your folds before eventually, he lets it sink into you. just one, not even down to the first knuckle, just shy of half his finger. you try to buck your hips, but without your arms, it’s plain useless; they just wriggle pathetically underneath him instead.

“fuck you.”

he frowns, pulls his finger out. it was nothing, but you whine anyway. any part of him feels better than being empty at this point.

“watch your mouth,” sunghoon takes a deep breath in. his other hand hooks around the spandex of his dark blue briefs, the letters ‘calvin klein’ warping when he finally shoves them down his thighs, and it’s like your chest has collapsed in on itself. how the fuck will you ever fit that inside of you? “you don’t even deserve this. i should just fuck you right now.”

it’s a dumb thought, admittedly. you have fit him inside of you. multiple times, in fact, but something about your boyfriend seems so much more… different. all you can hear is his heavy breaths, a string of curses as he spreads your folds wider with his fingers—and then the sound of spit hitting right where you’re leaking for him.

“f-fuck,” you whimper, “it’s not gonna fucking fit.”

“don’t be dramatic,” sunghoon sighs, shifting his hips closer to yours. he strokes his length just to spread the pre all over, and it’s just mesmerizing how pretty his cock is when it’s glistening in his own mess. “i’ll make it fit.”

you open your mouth to curse at him again, but it’s cut short by the feeling of his dick slapping against your clit—he spreads his pre-cum all over your entrance, ‘till you’re almost sparkling in your mixed fluids. park sunghoon is a tease, now more than ever, with how slowly he pushes his flushed tip in and back out.

“now sit still. don’t wanna hear a sound.”

“f-fuuuh.. fuck, fuck, oh my god—“

the pace at which sunghoon moves is nothing short of lethal. you think that if you didn’t have your cheek pressed flat against the sheets, you’d be screaming by now.

the room is quiet, except for the cacophony of moans and wet slaps of skin. your boyfriend’s cock is busy hammering itself into your walls, reaching spots that you don’t even think should be allowed, poking and prodding and it’s just mind-numbing.

“fuck… y-yeah, such a fucking slut,” sunghoon moans so lewdly that it sends heat crawling up your spine, till it reaches your neck and it makes you dizzy all over again. the rhythm of his hips is so brutal yet so hypnotic—his cock feels so hot, so big, so disgustingly rude. “so fucking pretty. look at you, can’t even run away, huh? just—shit—taking whatever i give you. so good for me.”

you nod like you can hear him. you don’t. either way, you feel him grip a little tighter at the knot behind your back, tightening it around his knuckles; as if he can’t bear to be apart from you, can’t stand your cunt not being full of him for just a second.

“hnngh, sunghoon, please—t-too rough, i feel something.”

he grips onto the red rope like a lifeline. every time you try to breathe, or to move your hips a little further away from his for just a moment longer—he pulls you right back in. you’d done just that, trying to catch your breath, but unfortunately for you, you really are too slow.

“reeaaally?” sunghoon pants, one hand around the knot and the other hanging freely by his side. he doesn’t even need to guide you anymore—the freedom he has to shove you back on his cock whenever he needs you, it’s driving him crazy. “wanna show me how good you feel on my cock? yeah?”

sweat trickles down his back. he’s never felt heat like this before; sunghoon’s always thought that sex with you was the best he’d ever have in his life, but this?

it’s transcending everything he’s ever known.

he’s seeing stars. they burst in his cloudy vision, his mind nothing but a thick haze. all he can really focus on is how your ass looks rippling against the base of his pelvis—jiggling with every pull at that damn knot, shoving you right back where you belong.

“that fucking post,” he spits, free hand raising before it slices through the air and lands straight on your right asscheek, “ngh—say… say you’re sorry, and i might let you cum tonight, hm?”

your jaw falls open in a silent scream, fingers curled into the bedsheets, trying not to scream out his name. “you’re—haah—insane—“

smack. smack. smack.

“don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

fuck those hands of his. so stupidly large and rough as they knead and fondle with your flesh like you’re some fucktoy—though, in a sense, you really are. your arms continue to thrash around, still bound tight by the rope, and it’s rubbing against your skin so much that it’s beginning to sting. sunghoon’s eyes narrow at the way you’re sobbing, and the confusion sneaks up on him then;

why hasn’t he done this before? this is genius. it’s like a whole new side of him has emerged, like an alter ego that he’s tried so hard to suppress; it’s all coming to him now. all the blood in his body’s rushing straight to his cock, and he feels electric, watching your tears spill onto the sheets—spine arched like the good slut you are, even when you fight back, like you know your place.

“s-sorry, i’m sorry, hoonie—i’m sorry! please, please—i’m gonna fucking cum, please let me cum.”

sunghoon’s hand grips tighter at the length of rope stretching across your back. he loops it around his knuckles again, which only brings you closer, your hips now flush against his pelvis—he feels so impossibly deep. the tip of his cock’s twitching when he buries himself to the hilt, and the greedy fucker even adjusts his position—just to make sure he’s feeling as much of you as possible.

he’s officially lost it.

“good girl, that’s it—such a good girl for me,” he breathes, looking down at the mess he’s created between you two. your juices are dripping down his swollen balls, his thighs, nothing but a sticky mess where your cheeks press against his body. “what’re you sorry for?”

fuck park sunghoon.

“i’m s-sorry—”

he rolls his hips once. a low sound leaves his throat, and you, a pornographic moan, effectively cutting off your apology—god, you feel so heavenly when he’s this deep inside. your walls flutter around him, crying, begging for more, squelching shamelessly.

“uhuh,” sunghoon nods, “what’s my baby sorry for? being such a whore? posting that shit for everyone to see, fuck—did you want me to find it? is that it?”

you’re choking on your words. the way sunghoon grinds into you is plain addictive, his thick girth swelling inside your softness, too busy focusing on how you’re practically nothing underneath him. wrecked and at his mercy, taking every stroke, every roll, every single taste of friction you manage to get your hands on.

“too fucking dumb to answer,” sunghoon scoffs. your walls clench around him at the words, and it’s just ridiculous how hard his cock twitches inside of you—like a chain reaction, he’s unfolding, mind unravelling itself until there’s nothing but one clear goal: make you cum.

not too hard. you’re already 90% there.

“f-fuck, baby,” sunghoon’s temple is slick with sweat, eyebrows knitted in sharp focus as he continues to rut into you—slow and deep strokes that hit every sweet spot inside your heavenly cunt. “could die in you—you feel so fucking good.”

fucking animal. his tongue darts around his lips—he’s so shameless with it, rolling his hips in tandem, looking up at you occasionally to see the fucked out expression on your face.

his heart feels so full. you’re breaking beneath him, voice crossing between moans and sobs and whimpers and everything in between; his name sounds like it’s drizzled in honey when spoken by your tongue. if only you could turn around, oh,you’d be able to see how absolutely lovestruck park sunghoon looks: soft pink lips parted, his golden brown hair falling over his forehead in damp strands, mumbling your name like a prayer he’s spoken every night.

“h-hoon, r-right there—fuuuck…” your wrists strain against the rope, your consciousness slipping from you with every passing second. this angle is even more torturous. what you wouldn’t you give to plant your palms into the sheets and just get on with it; you suppose that it’s drilling some patience into you. literally. “don’t stop—haah—p-please, hoonie.”

“wasn’t gonna,” sunghoon mutters in response. it barely reaches your ears, because your attention quickly shifts to how his weight shifts forward once more—cock curving into that sickening bundle of nerves that have your feet thrashing against the mattress. so sweet. sunghoon moans shakily, before he draws a sharp inhale through his nose.

the room smells like sex. a mix of your sweat and his combined, a tinge of your shampoo lingering from the bathroom, and his cologne rubbing off on you. he can’t help the smile that creeps on his face when he hears your heightened moans next—so loud, louder than you’ve ever been, despite all the useless tears and protests.

“i’m gonna fucking cum,” you whine, perking your ass up just enough for him to notice. greedy girl. even when you can’t take what you’re given, you still ask for more. the more you want to speak, the faster you find yourself unravelling, and eventually you just settle on his name, like it’s the only thing you truly know.

“thought i was all talk? look how quick you are.” sunghoon chortles before his lungs catch up to him. he’s panting heavily, feeling every nerve in him start to buzz, his cock starting to twitch unbearably inside of you. “don’t fucking disappoint me, then.”

it’s an understatement to say you break.

“c-cumming—i’m fucking cumming, hoon—!”

your legs shake so violently that it sends sunghoon into a frenzy—he yanks on the knot on your back again, smiling while he watches you struggle against him. your cunt spasms so beautifully around him, tight, squeezing him for everything he’s got and his balls ache so much that he practically snaps mere seconds after you.

“mhhm,” he groans when he feels you clench around him—like you’d die if he ever pulled out. he indulges, just this once, retracting his hips halfway before slamming back into you with a newfound motivation; his jaw ticks when you continue to fuck back against him, driving your ass against the base of his cock. so needy, so filthy, squelching around his length like it’s never going to be enough for your greedy hole. “nasty fucking girl. gonna fill you aaaall the way up, won’t i, baby?”

every touch burns so deliciously that it feels like sin. you’ve fallen right into it’s lap. “y-yeah, yes, please, give it to me—“

you’re bucking your hips back. where you found the energy to is lost on you, but it doesn’t matter. all that’s important is that sunghoon’s fucking you so right, hitting every sensitive spot, running his veins along every hidden crevice like it’s learning your body all over again.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum,” sunghoon moans. his teeth are grit so tight that he thinks he might shatter a tooth. his knuckles are on the brink of bleeding from how tight he’s wound the rope around them—they’re turning red from the friction, burning under pressure. “shit—all mine, aren’t you? come on. say it, say you’re mine, please.”

you barely have any time to come down before sunghoon gives you one, long stroke, plunging his cock as deep as he can until his cockhead kisses your cervix.

a long, pathetic moan is drawn out from you before it’s broken up by your cries.

dreaming. you’re dreaming. your legs begin to lock up and every muscle in your body feels like it’s on fire, every knot and bind of restraint snapping free. stars explode behind your eyelids and it occurs to you once again how utterly helpless you are; your legs go limp underneath him, lips mumbling his name into the sheets in a broken prayer, like this is the salvation you’ve been waiting eons for.

just as your lungs fill with air again, all of sunghoon’s weight disappears from on top of you. his hand is loosened from the binding behind your back and your arms finally stop fighting altogether. whew! you’re free—

smack.

your heart drops straight to your stomach. the pain bites at your skin and stings all over, sending chills up your spine until it pricks at your neck. you’re sure that you’ll have to ice your ass tomorrow—but with the ache thrumming in your veins, you think it’ll be futile.

“spread your legs,” sunghoon mutters. his voice is further away now. you try to, you really do—but you’re so sore, and the way the rope sinks into your flesh does nothing to help. “since you love telling everyone what you want, i’ll show them what you need.”

“make sure you arch for the camera, okay? just like the video. you know how, don’t you?”

the words don’t sink in until the tears in your eyes finally clear. your foggy vision blurs for a second, before focusing sharply on his phone in the corner of the room—landscape, flash on, exactly how that fucking video angled it.

“are you serious?” you laugh, but nothing’s really funny. “untie me. fuck, i wanna touch you, hoon—“

“you need to watch what you wish for,” he tuts. sunghoon’s hands find their way to your cheeks again, smoothing over the handprint he left, and you hiss at the contact. “gonna use you allll night. we’ll speed up the footage, and then you won’t have to rely on shitty porn, right?”

“please, hoon. i’ll be so good, i swear, i’m sorry—“

“there it is,” sunghoon flashes a smile at the camera. “waited so long to hear that—too bad i don’t care. sluts don’t get to touch. just take it.”

you’re deleting twitter. no retweet will slip by without a council to approve it, because with the way this is going—the way park sunghoon spreads your folds apart just to spit at your glistening hole, the way he fucks into you with the exact same pace as that damn video, the way he pushes down on your spine so your arch is practically identical—you might collapse.

ynln67: need hjm to tie me up n use me alll nightfuck

↳ psh1009: done [20:35]

© kissued 2026 — do not repost, edit, redistribute or translate my work without prior permission and credit. all my work is strictly fictional and not an accurate representation of these people in real life.

[bl3ssed-cursed]

bf!riki headcanons (sfw, 18+)

❥ SWF

boyfriend!riki who's obsessed with seeing you in his clothes and constantly lends you his expensive chrome hoodies even if he'll curse out his members for even breathing near them

boyfriend!riki who tells you that you can paint his nails only of it's in black — only to smile every time he looks at his nails the next day because you secretly added pastel hearts to them when he wasn't focusing

boyfriend!riki who lets you to play with the rings on his fingers whenever you're anxious, knowing that it calms you down when you're stressed. if he knows you'll be doing something that makes you anxious that day, he'll purposely put on a few extra rings for you to fidget with

boyfriend!riki who's in love with the fact that you're smaller than him, letting you cling to him and squeeze his biceps as much as you please because it makes him feel manly

boyfriend!riki who gets cuteness aggression any time you do your little happy dance while eating something good — always bringing little snacks for you when you meet up just to be able to see your face lit up in that adorable way that makes his heart beat faster in his chest

boyfriend!riki who sprays his cologne on your clothes when he's away because he knows you find comfort in his scent, hoping to give you something to remind you of him when he can't be there with you

boyfriend!riki who loves when you style his outfits for him. he'll wear anything you pick out for him and if anyone asks, he'll proudly tell them that his girlfriend picked out his clothing because he believes that sharing fashion with someone is a very intimate act

boyfriend!riki who gives you piggyback rides 24/7. your feet hurts from walking around in heels all night? piggyback ride. you're tired from walking around at school/work? piggyback ride. you accidentally cut your finger? piggyback ride. he doesn't care about the circumstances, he just loves the weight of you on his back, knowing that he's a person that you can lean on whenever

boyfriend!riki who's not the best at cooking but tries his absolute best for you because he wants you to see him as potential husband material (awww :(()

boyfriend!riki who's previously all white bed is now filled with your plushies and fluffy pillows that you put there during your sleepovers, not having it in his heart to remove them because it's a piece of you that you left with him

❥ NSFW

boyfriend!riki who can't go a day without his fingers being knuckle deep in your pussy. him adding extra rings to his fingers when you're anxious? yeah, he does that when he knows he's going to finger you as well (which is all the time)

boyfriend!riki who wants you to ride every single body part of his. dick, nose, bicep, thigh, abs, you name it — he will have you grinding on him at least once a week

boyfriend!riki who doesn't want you using toys but gifts you a dildo shaped and sized like his dick for your birthday so that you can always feel him even if he can't physically be there

boyfriend!riki who goes crazy whenever you wear skimpy skirts or crop tops. he'll instantly be all up in your business, hugging you from behind and burying his face in your neck to suck at the sensitive skin while teasing your clit through your panties, making you cum just like that through your clothes before bending you over and fucking you senseless

boyfriend!riki who sends you dick pics so often that every time you see a notification from him pop up on your phone while you're out with friends, you have to excuse yourself to the bathroom cause you don't want to risk anyone else seeing his bare dick (and so that you can send him a pic back ofc ;))

boyfriend!riki who doesn't give a fuck about any of the members hearing y'all. he'll just pound you even harder when a tired jay comes knocking at the door at 2 in the morning cause you've been at it fucking like bunnies for hours — making you moan even louder for the whole dorm to hear (yes, the members jerk off to your moans)

boyfriend!riki who let's you dominate him once in a blue moon. he'll let you tie him up to the bedpost and ride him until your legs hurt before breaking free from the restraints and flipping you over because he's too impatient. it's fun when it lasts though and you will get a few whimpers out of him so it's worth it

boyfriend!riki who once got put on a sex ban for jokingly flirting with a barista while you two were on a date and know avoids other girls like the plague because he can't survive a day in his life without being buried in your tight cunt

boyfriend!riki who gets your lips shape tattooed on his hip because he loves when you trail kisses down his body before sucking him off when wearing lipstick

boyfriend!riki who can go multiple rounds in a row without stopping but then gives you the most amazing aftercare — cleaning you up, bringing you snacks and cuddling you while whispering about how much he loves and appreciates you

[ikeucakez]

Missing you..

ꜱʏᴘɴᴏꜱɪꜱ: while away, your needy boyfriend, Jake, couldn’t help himself when he thought about you. especially after seeing your story of how good you looked. he took matters into his own hands.. before being walked in on. he ended up getting exactly what he wanted in the end.

ᴘᴀʀɪɴɢ: needy!jake x fem!reader

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ: enhypen jake, le sserafim yunjin

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛꜱ: NSFW, smut, masturbation, frustration from not cumming, spit as lube, panties to jerk off, ball fondling, pillow humping, humiliation, p in v, unprotected sex(WRAP IT. DO NOT DO.), submissiveness, dominance , riding, cumming inside, nipple play, teasing, name usage(mommy, puppy, good boy, jakey, baby.. ect), panties in mouth, (might be missing some things!)

!NOT proofread!

──── ──── ୨ৎ──── ────

God did you look amazing.

“I’ll be back home in about 3 hours, bye Jakey!” Is what you had told him with a kiss before leaving.

That nickname with the kiss.. mm. All Jake wanted to do was drag you right back in and spend the whole day with you and kiss you all over.. What a shame.

Jake watched the door close, walking back over and plopping onto the couch next to Layla, your guys’ fur baby. Layla starts to nudge her nose against Jake’s thigh, silently asking for pets. Of course, he could never turn her down. He started petting her soft fur with his big veiny hands, his mind slowly drifting off of you. For now.

⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔

It had been a full 2 hours and 13 minutes. And god did Jake miss you.

This whole time he had been sleeping… trying to watch a movie.. snacking….sleeping. And it had been a full 10 minutes he’s been painfully hard. He’s trying to contain himself. He can’t help himself when it comes to you.. especially not when he opens instagram and sees your story. That beautiful outfit on you hugging just the right places.

He stands from the couch, making his way to the hallway, Layla following behind him. Jake gets to your guys shared bedroom, looking back at Layla looking up at her dad with that adorable face.

“Go lay down Layla.. I’ll be back.” Jake says to Layla as if she’s fluent in english. But of course, Layla knows the simple command of ‘go lay down’ and she starts to walk away to the living room.

Jake opens the bedroom, walking in and throwing himself on the bed.. taking a deep sigh of your pillow.

“Y/n..” He mumbles, god does he miss you.

He can feel his mini Jake rock hard in his sweats. Jake sits up, tugging at his sweats and revealing his boxers.. which have a pretty huge tent in them.

Jake pulls his boxers down, his veiny cock springing out against his stomach. The pretty pink mushroom tip leaking a bead of pre cum already.

“Fuck..” He curses to himself, a hushed whisper as he grabs the base, wiggling it around.

Jake spits in his hand, bringing it down and stroking lightly, soft at first. Using some of his leaking pre cum as extra lube to slide down his hard cock. A sweet whimper slipping from his plump lips as he speeds up.

⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔

You laugh with your best friend, Yunjin, before picking up your phone and opening it.

“Whatcha doin?” Yunjin asks, peeking over.

You giggle at her action, before opening your texts. “I just gotta let jake know i’ll be home soon.”

Yunjin sighs, shaking her head with a grin on her face. “Of course.. Jaeyun is really a puppy when it comes to you.”

You smile to yourself, nodding along. “Yea.. but I think it’s adorable.”

You both laugh as Yunjin pushes your shoulder.

⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔

𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝚃𝙴𝚇𝚃𝚂:

-‘I’ll be home soon, love you!’

*delivered*

⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔

He should’ve looked at your text. But no.

Now? Jake was absolutely just fucking his fist. Letting out the loudest whimpers..

“hngh! F-Fuck! Y/n- augh!”

He wasn’t even cumming, just kept stroking and fucking into his fist. He kept letting out frustrated whimpers.. his other hand fondling his balls to help. Which didn’t. He removed his hand with an upset groan/moan..? Before looking to your side of the bed and pulling your drawer open, fetching your panties. His favorite pair to be exact. A pretty white lace.. with little black bows on the side.

Jake brought the panties to his face, sniffing while still jerking off, only to find they were freshly washed.

“Mgh- what the fuck!” He frustratedly let out in a loud whimper, before bringing them down and stroking himself with the panties. He was fucking into the fabric.. Still not cumming.

Jake looked around like a lost puppy, eyes big and glossy with his veiny cock flushed and twitching. He looked around.. before spotting your pillow.

He’d be quick. Right?

Right?

He took the pillow, before setting it under his hips. He started humping the pillow hard.. Angry. As if imagining it was you. He shoved his face into the mattress letting out muffled noises.

“Y-Y/n you’re such a bad girl- fuck! lemme fuck this pussy please-!”

He couldn’t stop the lewd noises coming from his lips. Jake continued to hump the pillow like a dog. He kept whimpering and moaning into the mattress.. before he felt that feeling in his body.

His humps got sloppy, before fastening and boom.

Thick ropes of his cum shooting onto the pillow, being dragged and smeared around by his cock and balls as he kept humping.

“O-Oh- oh god..! M’cumming- take it, take it all-“

He kept fucking the pillow with his face in the mattress.. before his movements stopped. Laying loosely over the pillow. Before he heard it.

“Aww, hi Layla! Where’s your daddy, hm?”

You.

You were home.

He shot up, putting on his boxers and sweats in a hurry before grabbing the pillow. The door being opened.

“Hi baby! You- you okay?” You notice how pink his face down to his neck looks..

Jake pushes his hair back, acting as normal as ever with the pillow in his hands. “Yea- why wouldn’t I be?”

You raise an eyebrow, eyes glancing down to the pillow.

“Why do you have my pillow?”

Why. Do. You. Have. My. Pillow.

The words echoed. Fuck was he done for..

“Oh- I- I was just thinking- we should wash the pillows..!..?” Jake said, voice slightly higher

You walked toward him, reaching for the pillow, “Baby, I already did the other day.”

Jake immediately moved the pillow, “Well they need to be washed very often!”

“Are you hiding something Jake?”

‘Fuck.. she was catching on.’ He thought.

“No? Why would I? It’s just a pillow.. ha..”

You snatched the pillow from him, before holding it up,

“If it’s just a pillow why are you so defensive—?”

Your words stopped once you seen and smelt all the smeared cum. You look back at Jake, a knowing smirk on your lips.

“You fucked this pillow, didn’t you puppy?”

Jake avoided eye contact.. before nodding.

“Jakey.. you couldn’t hold yourself back, hm?”

You pet his head, a flush spreading throughout his face. You gently push him on the bed, before tugging down his pants. “You’re still hard?”

Jake whimpers, his eyes shutting as he nods.

“Words Jake.”

Jake opened his mouth, just to close it again before speaking. “Y-Yes..”

You grin, before spitting on your hand and trailing it to his hard length. Stroking him in deep slow strokes, squeezing right at the tip. His hips were bucking up lightly into your hand.

“Ah-ah Jake. Stop bucking.” You speed up your hand, feeling his veins running along your palm with each stroke.

“i-M’sorry..! I- I need to fuck your pussy baby..” He whimpers, head falling back.

Of course.. So needy and straightforward.

“Yea? Do you Jake? Or are you just ridiculously horny. God you’re such a loser baby..”

He moaned at that. It somehow turned him on. He watched as you got up, slipping your panties off and getting back onto the bed with him. pushing him down into the mattress and tugging his sweats and boxers all the way off. Jake sat up taking you with him in a heated kiss.

Your tongues constantly swiping against each other, as he licked at your bottom lip, asking for permission. You obliged as his tongue entered past your lips. You pulled away, bitting his lip. A string of saliva followed.

“Y/n- please..”

You pushed him back down with your hand on his chest, before bracketing his hips with your knees

“Please what, puppy?”

He groaned frustratedly, a hand running over his face.

“Please just fuck me.. please..”

You smiled, before lining yourself up on his thick cock. Teasing with just pushing the tip in, before slowly pressing yourself down onto his cock. Once fully nested in your wet heat, you both moaned.

Jake’s hand went straight to your hips as you leaned down to him, slowly moving your hips.

“Ngh.. please.. more..” He whimpered, hands starting to guide your hips faster.

You continued riding him, his prominent veins running along your gummy walls.. tight and secure around his cock.

“Fuck Jake.. Your cock is stretching me.. augh..!~”

You moaned as you starting bouncing harder on his cock, leaning to his neck to leave a hickey along his throat.

Jake moaned loud, guiding your hips to ride him harder.

“Fuck- Fuck! Y/n- m’so hard for yo-“ He was cut off by you shoving your panties into his mouth, he moaned around them at the taste.

“Shut up. You’re being so loud.. Can’t contain those moans, hm?” You tease, riding his cock slower, before going back to bouncing on him,

Jake’s eyes roll back, hips rutting up into yours.

You pull the panties out his mouth, your movements turning sluggish from how tired your thighs already were.

“Shit- mgh..~”

Jake noticed. Of course he did.. He flipped you guys over before shoving his veiny cock back into your pussy.

“Fuck!” You moan out, hands fisting the sheets from the amount of pressure going in.

He was grunting with each thrust, his cock plunging into your sloppy pussy.. his heavy balls slapping against your ass with the faint slaps and squelches of your pussy.

“Y/n- fuck- take all of it- please take my whole cock-“ Jake moans, thrusting faster.. before leaning down and taking one of your nipples into your mouth, making you moans louder.

“Jake-“

His fingers pinch the other one, before switching and sucking the other one, rolling the other one around.

“J-Jake- i’m gonna cum..!” You moan, back arching up into him off the mattress.

“M-Mommy- please cum.. I-i’ll cum with you- fuck i feel it..”

You were taken aback. Mommy? You didn’t mention it. You definitely would later.

“mgh- Yea? You’re gonna cum- cum in mommy?” Your hand trails up, tightening into the strands of his hair,

Jake lets out a particularly loud moan at the pain and pleasure, before nodding intensely while biting his lip.

“Yes! m-about to cum!” He moans, thumb moving to your clit and rubbing in harsh circles, “Cum with me- please-“

You whimper, squirming lightly, feeling that tight feeling in your tummy.

You both cum together, arching your backs as Jake stills inside you, emptying his hot release into your sopping pussy. He stays for a moment, before pulling out with a whine. You whimper at the loss, your pussy pulsing.

⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔

You were lying back against the pillows on your bed, Jake’s head resting on your chest with his arms tight around your waist.

“Baby,” You suddenly spoke, causing him to look up at you, “You know what you said during all that?”

Jakes face instantly flushed, already knowing what it was.. hiding his face in your chest.

“Yes..” He mumbled.

You giggle, lifting his chin back up, “Oh now you’re shy about it? That wasn’t the case then,” You tease, watching his reaction.

“I know what I said.. ! Can you drop it..” He squeaks, eyebrows furrowed in embarrassment,

You fake thing for a moment, before looking back at him, “If you say it again, i’ll drop it.”

Jake’s eyes widen, before instantly shaking his head,

“No- A thousand times no! Why?!”

“Then I wont drop it..” You threaten, laughing to yourself.

“Fine.. mommy.” He mumbles incoherently.

You raise an eyebrow, “What was that? Couldn’t hear you properly.”

“I said- I said it!” He complains.

“Louder.”

“Mommy.”

“Good boy.”

──── ──── ୨ৎ──── ────

THE END! ANYWAYS WAS LOWKEY ASS BC THIS WAS THE FIRST FIC I WRITE ON HERE 😭

[mikesbian]

BUTTERFLIES — Michael Jackson x F. Reader

— SUMMARY: After 6 months of being together, Michael decides that tonight’s the perfect time to ask for just one anniversary gift; he wants you to start controlling him in the bedroom.

— WARNINGS: sub!mike, needy!mike, lots of tension, body worship, size kink, angst (if you look through a microscope), dumbification (kinda…?), face sitting, oral (f receiving), mike has a big dick, handjob, choking, unprotected p in v, nipple play, dacryphilia, no use of ‘y/n’, mean!dom reader, use of mommy (kinda), use of ma’am, mike is kinda pussy drunk, timestamps are unimportant, kinda slow burn, gets kinda fluffy at the end, implied aftercare.

— WC: 5.1k (I got carried away…)

— A/N: The winner of this poll. I fs got carried away lmaooo. Like, comment, n reblog! And don’t be shy to flood my asks, i don’t bite..always.

It wasn’t even noticeable at first. Well, not really, until you connected every small instance like one huge puzzle. A particularly suggestive flutter of his eyelashes, a nearly crimson blush on his cheeks whenever you praised him for anything. Then, there was that one time when you called yourself ‘mommy’ as a joke.

You’d just arrived home from your 4-month anniversary dinner date. Your feet were aching; clad in a pair of deep red 8-inch pumps that Michael practically begged you to wear. “I think it’s sexy that you’re taller than me in those heels. Your legs look extra long and beautiful. Please m-, baby? Please, wear them.” That just about undid you.

You’d started regretting letting him sway you like that, though, because you swore that with every step, you could feel a new callous forming on your pinky toe.

“Come help mommy take these things off, baby.” It was said so casually, because it was. Yet, his reaction had you thinking you’d said something offensive. He’d just finished taking off his own loafers, one knee on the floor. He nearly toppled all the way over, and he looked up at you with this almost pained expression. You could’ve sworn you saw tears welling up in his eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so direct. It’s probably the wine…I’ll take them off mys–” He’d waved off your thought with his left hand, cleared his throat, and mumbled something along the lines of “…seriously driving me insane” under his breath, but it sounded lighthearted enough for you not to question him further. The two of you had your best sex yet that night.

Last week, though? It got to a point where Michael damn near made you lose your mind. You put on a pair of jeans that were slightly too long, and you didn’t have time to get them hemmed, so you asked your boyfriend to cuff the bottoms for you, playfully pretending to press your stiletto onto his chest while he knelt down.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded earnestly. He looked up at you while he said it, eyes glazed over with sparkles and something else you couldn’t quite place. There was a faint, crooked smile playing on his lips. One that read: I’m right where I want to be. He clasped his hands behind his back and bowed his head like he was in the presence of royalty, then continued on with the task.

Really, it was a very quick exchange. Almost even casual; you just so happened to remember every aspect of it because it ruined you and your panties for the next two days.

That’s what’d been on your mind all afternoon. The two of you decided to spend your 6-month anniversary at a beachfront resort. Michael rented the whole thing out nearly two months in advance, your display of subtle dominance on your 4-month anniversary influencing the idea. He had a plan, and all he needed to do was gather up the confidence to act upon it.

You two took a series of photos on the digital camera he gifted you, involving various activities; a photo of you eating the breakfast he cooked the two of you in your suite’s kitchen, one of him almost missing his step on the jetski he was gonna race you on…One of you towering above him as he adjusted the delicate golden anklet he gave you the day prior, the cursive M glinting in the sunlight. He coughed hysterically to cover up the sound of its shudder, internally chastising himself for forgetting to turn off the sound in its settings.

When you two got home, he seemed overly eager about the evening, his attitude rubbing off on you. The both of you were a giggling mess, and you were completely sober. Just high off of the presence of the other.

The two of you had dinner reservations at 6:30pm, so you decided to shower together to ‘save water’ and time. Michael basically did the showering for the both of you though, making sure to do every step like you would. You’ve showered together enough for him to know your whole routine, and it made your heart swell with warmth, and your thighs unnoticeably squeeze together with want. He even rinsed and dried the both of you, making sure you didn’t lift your pretty fingers to do anything but grip onto his shoulders for balance.

It made you insatiable.

While you put on the finishing touches of your makeup, Michael approached you with a pleading look settled onto his face.

“Does this shirt look weird untucked? Should I button it up some more?”

You turned around, your unset makeup almost plastering onto his black button up. He looked delicious. Your mouth actually got watery at the sight right in front of you. You gulped down your lust, and met his eyes.

“Michael, you look beautiful. Leave it untucked and unbuttoned just like that. Wow.”

He ducked his head slightly, a faint blush crawling up his neck, as he let out a nervous chuckle. For a man so gorgeous, you’d think he’d be used to compliments from his own girlfriend by now.

“Y-you sure? Tonight’s important. I wanna look like we belong together. Like I belong with you.”

It took everything in you not to ruin your dinner plans and prove it to him right there, your hands fighting the urge to push him onto the bed and show him just how pretty you thought he was.

You cleared your throat and answered with a joking, “Michael, I’d swear you have a praise kink or something, because there’s no way you don’t see just how tasty you look right now.”

You turned back to the mirror, powdering up your face and putting on the remainder of your lip combo.

You didn’t notice just how badly Michael was holding it together from that point forward.

The two of you played the rest of the night cool, though. Nothing out of the ordinary, save for Michael fighting off his neediness when you ordered for him because you noticed him get shy, and when you wiped enchilada sauce off of his face, calling him your ‘clumsy baby.’ Or, the instance where you almost dragged him to the bathroom when you asked if he wanted dessert, and looked at you all lovesick with a, “Yes, please.”

He aggressively adjusted his black jeans, not so subtly, after you told him to pick up the napkin he (purposely) dropped. He felt like he was drunk. His nerves and his body were on fire. He started to down the bottle of wine he purchased for the two of you, for liquid courage. You quickly followed suit. It did nothing to help either of your states.

On the walk back to your suite, Michael’s demeanor nearly killed your buzz. He looked terrified.

“Mikey, baby. What’s wrong?” you asked, stepping in front of him and tilting his head up by his chin so he’d look you in your eyes. The heels you wore had you standing taller than him, and, unbeknownst to you, that only made it worse.

“It’s nothin, baby.” he responded, but his voice wasn’t matching his actions.

“Michael, come on, it’s me. What’s going o-”

“I said it’s nothin’,” he cut you off sharply. His voice was loud- too loud- and he wouldn’t look you in the eyes. He grabbed ahold of the hand that you had underneath his chin, and rushed the two of you the rest of the way to the hotel.

You were furious. Concerned by his terror-stricken face, mostly. But, his sharpness with you stirred something inside that you thought you’d buried, only fueled by the ache in your feet from nearly running in stilettos.

As you made it to your room, you pushed past his usually taller frame, and sat down onto the nearest plush chair, bending over to undo the straps of your pumps. You heard the door close with a click and looked up to see Michael rushing his way towards you, trying to stop you from removing them yourself. The two of you had your hands tangled in a mess; his fingers trying to gently push yours off, and yours almost aggressively shoving his.

“Enough, Michael.”

He gulped loudly, seeming almost embarrassed to look at you.

That was almost enough to ease the fire on your lips. Almost.

“Look at me while I’m speaking to you. What happened, and why are you acting so weird towards me?” Your voice quivered on the latter half of your question, insecurity starting to creep its way through your tone. Your cleared your throat and waited for him to speak.

He sighed visibly at the beginning of your monologue. The words affecting him in a way you couldn’t understand.

He continued removing your shoes as he answered, needing something to keep his eyes away from yours, due to the vulnerable truth behind his actions.

“I…” he cleared his throat. “I want you to control me.”

That was not what you were expecting. You waited, scared that you’d misinterpreted the intentions behind his words, hoping he’d expand on it further. By this point, both of your shoes were off, and he was still kneeling in front of your legs, both of his hands opting to massage on one of your aching feet. He still wasn’t looking at you.

“Mike…?” you asked. Your voice slightly deepened with a lust you were fighting so hard to control. You ran your fingers through his hair softly, eliciting a soft whine from his throat. You used the hand in his hair to gently guide his face up to yours. He obeyed your silent command as soon as you slightly tugged, actions already proving that he meant what you thought he did. Your stomach did a flip. The alcohol in your system was making you extremely sensitive to your emotions, everything heightened. Apparently, Michael was going through the same.

“I-I mean. Well look at you…Your legs are so long, ‘n you take care of me so good. You’re so good at telling people what to do and I always wish it was me on the other end of that. I- I think about you doing things to me. Things that I can’t control. I sometimes try ‘n push your buttons just so you can finally snap at me, but you’re so patient, even though your energy is kinda scary, and that somehow drives me even crazier.” The alcohol had him saying quite literally every word that came into his brain. He’d managed to fully massage all the tension from your feet during the rambling. He gave them each a quick peck and set them down gently onto the plush carpet beneath you. Then he sat up on his knees, properly. Both of his hands were placed on his lap like he was preparing for prayer.

“Please, baby. I can’t take it anymore. I want you to use me and control me and take everything I have. I want you to be mean to me and I want you to punish me for being rude earlier. Put me in my place, please. Please, pleasepleaseplease. It’s embarrassing, but I really do want this.” He added the last part after he noticed you weren’t responding, embarrassment and alcohol settling into his bones. He started sniffling, his eyes rimming with tears.

You didn’t say a word. Silently, you stood up, gripping Michael by the collar, dragging his frame up with yours, and then crashed your lips into his. He whimpered loudly. The sound shred the last bit of sanity you had left. The two of you tumbled through the doors that led to your room, his socks being kicked off and your shawl strewn onto the floor on the way there.

You turned him around and shoved him onto the bed forcefully. Michael looked up at you like you held the universe up just for him. Your hands made their way to his shirt first. The opened buttons were driving you crazy all day. You started unbuttoning, but grew impatient, opting to just aggressively pull them apart instead, buttons popping off and flying onto the floor in the act.

Michael was a whimpering mess beneath you, and you hadn’t even touched him properly. His hands were at his sides and his body was rigid. He hadn’t even tried touching you.

“Mikey, baby. You know you can touch me, right?”

“I just wanted your permission first ma- ahem. Baby.”

“What was that?” you questioned, catching his slip-up.

“Nothin’,” Mike said, clearly embarrassed. He tried kissing you after to cover it up, but the alcohol in your system made you not care. You pushed his torso back down onto the bed.

“Don’t lie to me, Michael. I can stop all this right now,” you said sternly.

“I..Uhm. It’s just.. sometimes I kinda wanna call you..mommy…?” He phrased it like a question.

That’s how you ended up the position the two of you were in right now. Him with his head propped up on the spare pillows he requested earlier, and your body propped up on his face, straddling it. Michael was going dumb beneath you, fully letting your core and the alcohol in his veins consume him.

“Mmm, Mikey. I didn’t know you had this in you,” you say with surprise laced into your voice. And it’s true. The two of you had sex a few times, but he usually seemed okay with taking over for you. Only now did you realize that it was more of him servicing you than taking control.

“I’ve always had it in me, m- ah baby,” he says, slightly pushing his head further into the pillow so he can speak.

You grab one of his nipples and pinch it harshly.

“Did I say you could stop? Don’t think I forgot about your little attitude earlier.”

That only turns him on further though, his hips jutting into the air immediately at the rough contact.

“N-no. I’m sor– ah– sorry baby. You’re right. I’ve been s-so bad,” his voice melting into a needy whine on the last word.

“Yeah, so bad. I– mmm– s-should teach you a lesson, shouldn’t I?”

“P-please. Please do whatever you want to me. I’ll make it up to y…ou, mmm.”

In one swift movement, you climb off of his face, and settle your soaking core onto his bare chest. You take your right hand and place it onto his neck with no pressure- yet.

“How sorry are you?” you question, his fucked out face only fueling your actions.

“Really sorry. Sorrier than I can even put into words,” he jumbled out. Not good enough. You give him a slight slap on the face, and then grip onto his neck with more fervor. He moans like it’s his first time being touched sexually.

“That’s it? You’re sooo sorry you can’t even say it?” you scoff at him, playing up your anger just to see him fold beneath your grasp. You begin grinding down hard onto his chest, reveling in this.

“N-no! I mean, yes, b-but, fuck keep using me like that please. I just, I have to show you. Let me show you?” he says, still trying to work your pussy between each word.

“Hmm, go ahead then,” you respond almost immediately, intrigued by his request.

He tenderly grabs onto your thighs and lifts your body up off of his chest, and places you next to him, sliding from the bed in the same movement. Then, he eagerly walks to the foot of the bed and sinks onto his knees, beckoning you toward him with two of his fingers, his twinkling eyes never leaving yours.

“Join me, please?” he asks, voice laced with desire.

You seductively crawl toward him, his body looking meek in this position. You can feel your core drip more at the sight of him. He uncrosses your legs for you, making sure to do all of the work. He’s gonna prove to you just how sorry he is for not being a good boy.

He takes one of your legs and starts to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to every inch of it; from the tips of your toes, to the backs of your knees. His eyes never leave yours. He’s waiting for some sign of approval, a praise, anything that tells him he’s making up for it, but you sit there in shock, staring at the submissive man beneath you. You’re almost too scared to move, afraid that any action or sound will break the spell.

Then he starts to speak. “You’re so beautiful. Your body’s like a painting that only Michelangelo himself could’ve imagined. How could I have been so stupid? You deserve everything. I’m gonna give you everything,” he says between kisses.

“This?” he says, kissing your inner thigh, “I don’t even deserve it. I’m lucky to be able to touch you like this. Lucky ta even see you like this.”

He grabs onto your hips, and looks up at you, pleading.

“M gonna make you feel so good. I promise.”

Michael kisses up the soft skin of your stomach, making sure to save what’s beneath it for last. Then, he makes it to your breasts, and drool dribbles out of his mouth as he speaks.

“I don’t even deserve these,” he says, almost to himself with a sigh. He peppers kisses to the undersides of them, teasing his way up to your erect nipples. Then, he takes one into his mouth, suckling like a man starved. You nearly scream from pleasure at the contact, causing Michael to look up with worry, only for him to see your blissed expression. He grabs your other nipple and rolls it between his fingers, still holding eye contact with you.

“F-fuck Michael, that’s it baby. Just like that.”

He switches his ministrations to your next nipple, replacing his mouth with his hand, and his hand with his mouth. He starts whimpering louder and louder with each gasp you take, your arousal fueling his tenfold. You feel high. You try clamping your legs together, but his lanky body is blocking you from doing so, eliciting a whine from your lips. He notices this. He notices everything. He removes the hand from your nipple and immediately starts rubbing languid, deep circles on your clit. You let out a loud moan straight from your diaphragm, internally thanking Michael for renting the whole resort out for the two of you.

Michael’s lips detach from your tit with a pop. “You like this?” he questions genuinely, wanting to be good for you.

“Mike- fuck- yes! L-love it! So good!” You can barely even think properly, your mind only focused on how his long fingers work your clit with ease.

“Mmm,” he responds, not fully satisfied with himself. He doesn’t want you to love it. He wants you to crave it.

He gets up and straddles your waist, fingers still slowly rubbing your clit, searching your neck for its sweet spot with his lips. When you buck your core into his hand at a particular area, he starts licking and biting on it, hungrily inhaling the perfume on your neck in the process.

“You-ngh. You smell so sweet. Did you wear my favorite perfume for me?” he asks, a wave of gratitude crashing onto him.

“Y-yes Mike. Come on– more. I need more. Give me more.” You’re desperate now. You have half a mind not to start fucking yourself on his fingers right there, but he’s one step ahead.

His fingers slide straight into your pussy, and your walls clenched around them immediately, not expecting the intrusion so suddenly. Your back arches up off the bed, lifting both of you in the process.

“M sorry. I’m gonna get you there baby. I promise.” Without another word, he carefully slides back down your frame, and starts suckling at your clit like he’s tasting ice cream for the first time ever, his fingers still curling and pumping in and out of you. Your eyes start to water.

“Oh my– fuuuuuck. Mikeyyy, baby. Mmm, s-shit. I feel sososo good. So good. You’re so good to me baby. My perfect- ah. My perfect angel. S-so pretty on your knees for me.” You smile at him weakly and squeeze his head in between your thighs forcefully, grinding yourself onto his mouth and nose. The dichotomy is giving him whiplash.

The praise that you give Michael is driving him halfway insane. He moans erotically into your squelching pussy, pumping his fingers into you faster and harsher, squeezing his thighs together for his own relief. The sight of you using him like this is making his brain go numb, the only thing on his mind is making up for his behavior earlier. Making sure you’re feeling good.

Your legs start to shake uncontrollably now, a telltale sign of your orgasm approaching.

This fuels Michael further.

“Please cum on my face. I wanna taste it, ma.”

You almost do it on the spot, but you have other plans. You lightly kick his face from between your legs and his mouth detaches from your pussy loudly. He looks at you confused, his face glistening with your arousal.

“I’m sorry. Did I do something wro-” You interrupt him by slamming your lips onto his, the force of it pushing his torso onto the floor. You moan at the taste of yourself on his mouth, your tongue searching for his in the process. You break the kiss and lean into his ear with a seductive whisper. “I want to fuck you, Michael.”

His entire body goes rigid and he gasps loudly. You palm him through his jeans, feeling his dick straining against the black fabric. He sucks in a sharp breath, wanting so desperately for more friction, while simultaneously wanting to show you he can be good.

“Ohhh, were you this hard all this time, baby?” you coo at him, loving how the condescending tone in your words feels.

“A-ah yes. I just wanted you to feel good,” he replies between choked breaths, seemingly trying not to pass out. He loves how dumb you’re making him feel.

“Aww my good boy, you did so well for me. I think it’s time for us to both feel good together, hmm?” you ask him, eager for his response. He looks so pretty like this, and his whimpers sound even prettier.

“O-only if that’s what you want. Ngh- everything’s your choice. Everything, everything,” he slurs out, already losing his grasp on reality due to the way you’re speaking to him and the way you rub hungrily against his clothed erection.

You unzip his jeans faster than he can even process and pulled them down off his legs along with his boxers, his leaking erection slapping against his abdomen harshly.

“Look at me,” you command him. He obeys without a second thought.

You take your pretty manicured hands and begin to jerk him off slowly, enjoying the way he tries not to grind up into your hands because he’s your good boy.

You speed up your actions faster, faster, faster, until you see Michael nearing his climax. He’s warning you over and over that he’s gonna cum, not wanting to before you do. Not after his behavior today. He didn’t deserve it, and you agree.

“Baby, pleeeeease, ‘m so close. Can’t do it. You have ta first. Iss too good ‘n I can’t hold it,” he whines, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. You kiss them away and go faster, ignoring his cries. The tears only turned you on further.

“F-fuck! Baby, I’m gonna–” You stop moving your hand entirely, and squeeze down on his dick hard.

“Wh-wha..” Michael trails off, not knowing how to speak anymore.

“Thank you,” he says, looking up at you with tear-filled eyes, chest heaving. He knew better than to complain- you touching him at all was enough.

You lean up to give him a quick kiss, before lining his dick up with your entrance and sinking down onto it. The stretch was enough to make your legs shake and almost make you fall over. You can’t take it all at once, opting to go slowly, grinding yourself against it in the meantime.

“Oh my GOD,” Michael cries out, propping himself up on his elbows so he can look at you. You look like an answered prayer.

“Mikey, you’re too big,” you whine out, drawling the last word out on purpose.

“I’m sor-ry,” he sincerely apologizes. It would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t so turned on by his facial expression. You sink the rest of the way down, too impatient to care about the burn. You grip onto his neck for support and start riding him slowly, your thighs burning with pain and pleasure. Michael moans at the feeling of your delicate fingers around his neck again and he loses his filter completely.

“Please choke me again. Hard. Control when I can breathe,” he begs you. You do just that and start bouncing against his length, the begging and whimpering from your boyfriend turning you on more than you’ve ever been.

His eyes start to roll back, and you loosen your grip so that he can gasp for air, his lungs greedily swallowing the oxygen creeping in. He starts rolling his hips up into yours to help, knowing riding isn’t easy for women. Always the gentleman, even when you’re fucking his brains out. He looks into your eyes, grabs your free hand and starts sucking on your fingers, muffling his moans with them from embarrassment. You don’t know whether to be angry that he won’t let you hear them, or turned on from the sight, so you grind and choke him harder.

His eyes fog over and he drools onto his chest, arching his back up to meet all of your grinds. You loosen your grip once again.

“Let me hear your pretty voice, baby,” you drawl at him, removing your fingers from his mouth and using them to play with your nipple. That basically does it for him.

“Baaaaaaby. Oh my God, I-I can’t even think. You’re s-so good to me and– YEAH keep touching yourself like that please. You’re so beauti-f-ful. I’m never letting you go. You’re t-too perfect iss driving me crazy. Plea—” you choke him again— “Mmmfuck. Please cum on me. Please use my body to cum.”

“Then fuck me like you want it, Mike,” you order, dragging your fingers down from his neck, using your nails to scratch all the way down to his chest.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He flips you over and pins you beneath him, and begins thrusting into you the exact way he knows you like it, totally focusing on your pleasure.

“Michael! Baby, fuck, you…feel sooo good. Don’t stop!”

“I won’t, baby.” He presses a hand onto your stomach for comfort, but what he felt flipped a switch in him. He looked down and saw himself moving inside of your belly.

“Oh my Godñ…” he gasped out, making you look at him with concern. “B-baby. I can see myself inside of you,” he says, genuinely surprised.

“It’s ‘cause you’re so big,” you say, pouting at him. “G-go ahead, baby. Fuck me until m’ cervix is shaped like your dick.” He groans at the filth in your words, doing just as you say. His body begins to shake with pleasure. He feels so good, too good. Like something only his imagination could come up with. He starts drooling again.

The sight above you is getting you so close to your release. You reach your hand down to your clit and started playing with it, making sure to tilt Michael’s face down to watch before you do so. You want to put on a show for him. It is your anniversary, after all.

“M gonna cum for you Mikey. ‘M gonna make a mess of that pretty dick of yours,” you say nastily. You can feel the knot in your stomach start to tighten more and more.

“Y-Yes! Please cum all over me. Please turn me into a mess,” he begs, and that did it. Your entire body locks up and your vision turns blurry.

“Michael FUCK!” you scream—genuinely scream—out in pleasure. You grip onto his shoulders with all the force you can muster, mumbling out praises of “You’re so pretty” and “Did so good” until your lips fall numb. He rides you through the whole thing, legs shaking and forehead dripping with sweat.

“C-can I please cum? It hurts…” You look at him with surprise, not realizing he was still going for you, and it almost does enough for you to want a round two.

“Oh, Michael. You’re so obedient. I didn’t realize you were still going, love. Cum inside me, baby. Fill me up.”

He whimpers and cums on command, his body stilling and his toes curling up in pleasure. His eyes roll so far back into his head that you can’t even see his irises anymore.

“Thank you, thank you, thank y- ahh, thank you. ‘M so so–ahhhgghh, so sorry. I’ll be good forever, ‘m sorry my pretty girl.”

His sweaty body collapses onto yours, and you two lay there for a while, his dick still inside of you, fully softened up.

After at least ten minutes of this, Michael speaks.

“So…Can we do this again?” he asks hesitantly.

“Michael,” you start, “I don’t think I can ever go back. Do you know how sexy you are when you’re submissive?” Your thighs start to clench again at the thought of what you two got up to tonight.

“O-oh. Really? It wasn’t too much?” he asks shyly as he rolls off of your body.

“Really. You should’ve said something sooner, angel face. I prefer being dominant,” you reveal, although you’re sure it was obvious.

“I was just shy, is all. But you? I don’t think–no, I know I’ve never seen anything or anyone as sexy as you were tonight. I feel like I died from bliss and met God. Truly, you were heavenly. I didn’t want any of it to end.”

“It doesn’t have to…We still have a whole weekend to spend here,” you offer, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. He blushes a deep red.

“I’m gonna go get our stuff ready for a bath,” you say. “Tidy up the room for when we’re back, yeah?”

“I’ll do anything for you,” Michael says, clearly still pussy drunk. He grabs your hand before you head to the bathroom.

“I love you. I’m not just sayin’ that because of what we did tonight, you know that. But I love you. Thank you for being the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ll cherish you for all of my days, and even afterwards, if I can.“ He gives you a brief, yet passionate kiss on the lips. “I’ll be as quick as possible. Happy anniversary, pretty girl.”

“Happy anniversary, Michael,” you say, trying not to cry. You don’t know how you’d gotten so lucky.

[mikesbian]

TORTURE — Michael Jackson x F. Reader.

— SUMMARY: Michael is always so shy whenever you two are intimate, so you work him up so you can hear him pleasure himself while you “sleep.”

— WARNINGS: sub!mike, masturbation (m), whining, voyeurism, getting caught, humiliation kink, somnophilia, use of daddy to tease, use of mama, smut with not much plot (who cheered), not proofread (yet!)

— WC: 2.2k

— A/N: Loosely ib this tweet. Took me forever to get around to this because i wanted it to be perfect, but i got wine drunk and wrote this in one sitting lol..

“C’mere ‘n kiss me, pretty boy.”

You knew that was gonna get him going, and that’s exactly why you said it.

Michael practically flew to the bed after shutting off your shared bedroom’s light and almost throwing his reading glasses on his nightstand. A small part of you wanted to roll your eyes at the subconscious action; he never wanted the lights on, and all you wanted to do was see his pretty face contorted in pleasure while he fucked you into the sheets. The only light coming through the room was from the TV on your dresser, silently humming in the background.

“Mmm, you smell so good,” he whispered to you shyly in between pecks.

You knew. You took extra time with your skincare and shower tonight, purposefully applying lotions and body oils that you noticed made him crazy.

Making a conscious decision not to give him any sort of relief, you changed your position from being on your side to straddling his thighs, careful not to to grind the prominent bulge growing underneath his endearing money-print pajamas. He wasn’t wearing underwear, perfect.

He pulled away, eyeing you with heavy lids. He was so easy for you and you took advantage of that fact any time you could.

“This lil’ number…You look perfect. Like a doll.” He bit his lip and adjusted your strap as his gaze traveled down the length of the red slip dress you were wearing. His favorite color.

Cupping the back of your neck with his hand, he pulled you in for another kiss, this one hungrier than the last.

His tongue immediately darted into your mouth the moment your lips parted, wasting no time for a buildup. He was starving.

You pulled away as far as you could with his strong grip on your neck.

“Someone’s a little eager. You hungry, daddy?” you teased, drawing out ‘daddy’ the way you did when you wanted to push his buttons. It worked. He made a little tortured sound at the back of his throat and cleared it to hide it.

Irritated with his bashfulness, you started slowly grinding against his thighs, stopping just short of his surely leaking sex.

“‘Cause I am,” you added.

He fluttered his eyes, not leaving them closed nor open, torn between shutting them in anticipated pleasure or watching the dreamlike scene in front of him.

“Stop hidin’. I wanna see those pretty eyes. Please, baby?” you asked him sweetly. The two of you loved this little game you had; you pretended he was daddy, and you asked him please, and you told him thank you, but you were always in control. Something about the act of asking for ‘permission’ and taking the ‘control’ from Michael added to the fun.

His eyeballs flew open immediately, almost comically bulging. Leaning down teasingly slow, you connected your lips once again, and his large hand, still at the nape of your neck, held you impossibly close. With your tongues swirling and your core still grinding painfully close to his, he was swimming in need. It only worsened when you started moaning into his mouth like a cat in heat. He wanted to whine out so badly, but the idea of you hearing how pathetic he was getting stopped him.

His free hand snaked its way to your waist and attempted to pull you closer, to break that infinitesimal gap between you. Not wanting to give in, you slapped it away harshly and placed your hand on his neck, daring to squeeze.

“Oh, God. You’re gonna drive me insane, baby. Please,” he almost whined. He attempted to dive back in for another kiss to conceal how flustered he was. You pressed your other hand to his chest and pushed him into the pillows.

“Whatcha pleadin’ for?” you questioned seductively, tightening the grip around his neck ever so slightly.

“C’mon, you gonna make me say it?” He looked at you, offended.

“Use your words, love. I’m not a mind reader y’know.” You felt on top of the world.

Michael was soaking through his pajama pants now; you could feel a wet spot on its fabric. With this in mind, you faked a yawn, setting your plan into action.

He still said nothing.

“Mmm, well I’m tired. Gonna go to sleep, ‘kay?” You adjusted your hands and position on top of him so fast, it seemed almost impossible that you were close to making him cum untouched.

“W-wait, we didn’t even get to do…I want…” he trailed off.

“Hm?” You pretended to be confused, feeling him adjust himself beneath you.

“I…ah-” Your body pressed against his hard on, as you pretended to innocently give him a hug, “N-nothing. G’night, angel. I love you.”

You pressed a kiss to his chin, shifting your hips against his again, and whispered, “I love you, Mikey. Gonna dream of you.”

He slightly titled his body over to let you roll off of him, and tucked you under the blankets tenderly, trying his hardest to ignore the unattended lust growing inside of him.

Michael decided to try and pay attention to the old black & white comedy on television, but every few minutes, he’d take a look at you and his dick would throb hungrily. You were wearing nothing under your slip dress, and your bare ass and sticky folds were peeking through the edge of the blanket on top of you.

After about 10 minutes, you made a show of taking loud, even breaths in an attempt to prove that you’d fallen asleep. You started softly sighing and whimpering ever so slightly—the way you knew you always did in your sleep—only this time more suggestively.

Around minute 14, you’d almost given up on the whole act, realizing Michael was probably too shy to even think about touching himself next to you, even if you were asleep. You were wrong.

He couldn’t take it. He tried. Really, truly tried, but he was hurting, and it’s not like he’d have to tell you.

Hesitantly, after lifting the blanket off of your backside to reveal your naked body to him some more, he quietly drooled into his hand and dipped it into his pants. His fingers lingered on his pelvis, trailing teasing paths around the area just like you would. The thought of your hand there made him lose himself too quickly, and his wet and sticky hand found his sore dick and tugged graciously from base to tip.

The absolute…pervertedness of his actions only somehow turned him on more. The fact that you could wake up to take a sip of water, or you could turn over to him wanting to cuddle…It all added to the desire.

A secret part of him wanted to be caught. To be humiliated by you seeing the worked up state you coaxed him into.

The waistband of his pajama pants became a barrier, a nuisance of an obstacle stopping him from experiencing the extent of pleasure that he wanted to. If he was gonna do this, he might as well go all the way, right?

So, he slid them off with his legs, not enough care in his mind to see if the movement made you stir in your sleep.

He jerked himself with an easier motion now: up and twist, and down and tug, and up and twist. Over and over and over. The exact way you did with both of your pretty hands.

“Mmph,” he whimpered. Silently, but it was still louder than he’d usually let you hear.

Your heart pounded brutally. He was really doing it.

Being greedy, you stirred a bit in your ‘sleep,’ positioning yourself in between being on your back and on your side, in his direction. You let out a theatrical sleepy moan, and Michael froze.

He looked you over for a bit, focusing on your face to make sure you weren’t looking. Then, his horny gaze flitted to what was in between your thighs, wide open and fully on display for him. He continued.

She’s still so wet for me, he thought to himself.

The truth was, you were unfortunately getting wetter and wetter just by hearing him while you were turned around.

Facing him without watching was proving to be a challenge though, because he started making noise, and lots of it.

“God– yes. Please…please…” he begged. He was still looking at you through lidded eyes and tugging his dick at a relentlessly slow pace, imagining you teasing him and making him beg for it.

You squeezed your thighs together a little too harshly, feeling the pressure on your clit at the action.

He looked at you more intensely then, still pumping himself, but taken by surprise at the loud slap of your legs closing.

“No…” he whispered to himself. He wanted you to stay spread.

He reached his free hand over and separated your legs again, taking in just how close you’d gotten to him while you tossed and turned. The scent of your body oil hit the back of his throat at the same time he twisted his wrist at his tip, and he moaned. A full, throaty moan of erotic pleasure and need, and he didn’t even care.

Still having half a mind not to wake you, he ghosted his fingers over one of your inner thighs. He needed to touch you. To ground himself. That only made it worse, though, because he felt your arousal half dried on your thigh.

“O-oh. Angel, please...L-love it when…” He was speaking nonsense now, just saying any thought that came into his head. He’s never been this loud masturbating even completely alone.

His pumping grew faster, and you could hear the lewd sounds of his precum and spit squelching around his patterned dick. You wanted to look so badly.

“P…lease, I-I’ll be good. Please, please…” he babbled.

What’s he thinkin’ about? you wondered to yourself.

He was trying to edge himself. Just like you did. He was gripping his base harder and speeding up his jerking just the way you would whenever you were working him to an orgasm, only to snatch it away from him.

His hand snaked closer to your pussy, and he collected the arousal. He was craving this. He stuffed his fingers into his mouth, and his eyes fluttered shut at the taste.

“Ngh, so good, b-baby,” he moaned around his fingers, complimenting his mind’s imagination of you. He was being unabashedly loud now, the desire to be caught fucking his own fist like a needy loser ever growing.

The feeling of your body heat next to him while he did this was only adding fuel to the fire rising to his abdomen. He was so close. Droplets of his precum were landing on his pelvis in bursts.

“So close– ngh– ahh– I need–” He yanked his hand away immediately, having almost orgasmed.

“Dammit…” he protested to nobody. Removing his fingers from his drooling mouth, he looked at you and started pumping his crying sex slowly again.

“S-so pretty…” He scooted closer to you, his shoulder grazing yours, and placed his hand right back on top of your sticky pussy.

“‘M sorry, mama. Th-this is so dirty..” he apologized as if you could hear him. It was more to spare his own guilt, though. Your eyes fluttered slightly, and he traced one long finger across your clit, making you mewl silently. At the sight and sound of you getting worked up in your ‘sleep,’ he grew even more desperate than before. The pace he had set for himself quickened, and he flattened his hand against your folds. He wasn’t moving it, he just wanted to feel you.

Up, twist, down, yank, up, twist, down, tug.

His pace was almost unforgiving, his hand was moving so fast he couldn’t even believe he was doing it himself. The atmosphere felt electric. His precum was settling between the webs of his fingers, he was fully twitching against your side, and his eyes never left the sight of his huge hand blanketing your core.

“F-fu…I’m…AGH–” His body jolted upwards and his scream caught in the back of his throat. The pressure of Michael’s release felt like a water balloon hitting asphalt; a violent shatter. His toes curled in a way that would surely make them cramp later, he gripped your inner thigh, and his hips stuttered and spasmed as he milked himself dry. He moaned and whimpered and cried and thanked your relaxed figure.

Your heart was hammering, and you squinted just enough to see him in this state. He was beautiful. His hair was stuck to his forehead and flat against the back of his head. Cum was splattered against his abdomen, thighs, and pelvis. His mouth was shaped in an ‘O’, and his eyebrows were knotted so tight, it looked like it should hurt. You were awestruck.

He finally fell limp after what felt like the longest orgasm known to humankind, and he slid his hand off of you and scooted away a bit. His mind was unfogging just enough to care about your personal space and beauty sleep now.

Breathing finally even, he stretched his hands up and took a deep breath, feeling unbelievably satisfied and guilty.

Your eyes were fully open now, staring the side of his head down, and he hadn’t noticed. Reaching over silently, you swiped a droplet of cum off of his stomach and sucked your finger, moaning around it loudly. His heart nearly fell to his toes when he looked at you, guilt written all over his face.

“Thanks for the show, daddy. You sing beautifully.”

Tags: @simp4eshal @urbanfunkchild @slugstarzz @cndybliss @yenvixx @plumppies @lil6uapa @etherealmikeyj @saiki-enthusiast @kottonkanditits @gyuuchuuu @ggformike @cherubae111

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[michaeldiary]

　　﹕   (✿˘͈ᵕ˘͈)   ┈  neapolitan prince syndrome.

　　┊   ♡   ﹒ thrad era! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

　　┊   ♡   ﹒ summary : michael’s feeling a bit insecure because his vitiligo is starting to affect his private parts and it’s making you spiral because you haven’t gotten dick in months so you think you’re the problem. fortunately for him? you think his dick is still pretty and you’re still going to slobber on it and show him a REAL thriller night.

　　┊   ♡   ﹒ byi : smut 🔞, michael’s vitiligo is the main point of “conflict”, oral sex (male receiving), shy michael, reader is high strung and a little ditzy (bimbo), a little bit of angst if you squint. some self esteem issues. had fun writing this!

The first few times, you didn’t think much of it.

Michael was busy and exhausted, that was expected. Michael had always carried the entertainment industry on his back, and it wasn’t unusual for work to follow him home. So, when he rolled over with an apologetic smile or distracted you with a kiss against your forehead before things could go any further, you accepted it without question.

Then weeks became months.

The affection never disappeared. If anything, it seemed to increase. Michael still reached for your hand in public. Still pulled you against him on the couch. Still buried his face in your neck when he came home after long days. He still looked at you with love so obvious that you could see tiny little hearts in his pupils. Yet somewhere along the way, a distance had developed between you. Not emotional distance but physical distance. You know.. sexually. Every time the relationship threatened to cross a certain.. threshold, he found a reason to retreat.

Michael took care of you in other ways though: his hands, his mouth, even his thigh but you couldn’t remember the last time he really fucked you. Or, actually maybe you could! It was about three months ago—you rode him at four in the morning before he had to get ready for an early morning flight out to attend an award show. But that’s not the point here! The point is, when he came back, things changed. And of course, you enjoyed the alternatives but there is truly nothing like feeling all six inches of his dick digging into you.

And at first, you blamed circumstances.

Eventually, you started blaming yourself.

The following weeks were a disaster, diva.

You changed your hair, changed it again. Then you became convinced the first version had actually looked better and spent three days mourning it. You switched nail colors so many times that your nail tech eventually stopped asking questions and just started staring at you with growing concern because you were starting to work her nerves. Long nails! Short nails! Red! Pink! Nude! French tips! Nothing seemed helped. Every appointment had the optimism of a woman who was genuinely convinced that the solution to her problems might be hiding inside a bottle of acrylic powder. It never was.

You bought new clothes.

You rearranged your makeup routine.

You spent a ridiculous amount of (his <3) money on skincare products advertised by women who were so obviously professionally done in makeup.

At one point, you became convinced that a boob job would somehow save your relationship.

A boob job would not save your relationship but mostly because your relationship wasn’t actually in danger. But to be fair, you just didn’t know that yet.

The problem was that once insecurity took root, it became impossible to think normally. Suddenly every mirror was an enemy, every picture of yourself fueled your dilemma and every minor flaw you found turned into a very big one. You stood in front of mirrors turning your head from side to side like a confused puppy.

Maybe it was your hair.

Maybe it was your body.

Maybe your skin looked weird.

Maybe your face looked weird.

Maybe you needed botox?

The theories became increasingly unhinged.

By the end of the second month, you had somehow managed to convince yourself that Michael no longer desired you because of a collection of microscopic imperfections that literally nobody else on Earth had ever noticed. The longer Michael avoided sex, the easier it became to convince yourself that there had to be a reason. A person didn’t simply wake up one day and stop wanting someone they loved.

So naturally, the explanation had to be you.

There was simply no other possibility.

Certainly not Michael Jackson, like.. thee Michael Jackson? Get real. A man who instinctively apologizes to inanimate objects after bumping into them. A man who asks you to send his food back because he doesn’t want the staff to feel bad. A man whose default response to conflict is both palms up and hoping the issue is resolved without much confrontation.

No. Clearly the issue wasn’t him.

By the time Michael finally came home from the studio that night, you’d already prosecuted the case, delivered the verdict, and sentenced yourself accordingly. The only problem was that nobody had bothered informing the defendant.

Michael knew something was wrong the moment he walked through the front door.

And not because you said anything weird. In fact, the opposite. You greeted him with a bright smile and an enthusiastic, “Hi, baby!” before immediately returning to furiously wiping down a perfectly clean kitchen counter. The surrounding area smelled aggressively of purple fabuloso. Every surface sparkled pristinely, the furniture had been rearranged—there wasn’t a single thing out of place.

Michael glanced at the clock on the stove. It was nearly two in the morning and exhaustion lingered in the slope of his shoulders. The Bad sessions had been consuming him lately, turning days into nights and nights into mornings. Normally he returned home looking drained, tonight however, the fatigue seemed to disappear the second he got a proper look at you.

He smiled to himself.

Stress cleaning.

He’s learned this quirk of yours long ago. Stress cleaning only happened when something was deeply upsetting that pretty little heart of yours. Normal people cried. Some people yelled. You wanted to flip houses. And that was okay.

“How was the studio?” you asked cheerfully, already moving on to a cabinet door that did not need cleaning. Michael slowly set his bag down on the kitchen island. The smile on your face looked.. suspiciously forced and assembled in a hurry, your eyes red and puffy.

“It was real good.”

“That’s good.” You continued scrubbing.

For a few moments, Michael kept watching you. The way you moved from one task to another without actually accomplishing anything. The way you wiped surfaces that were already spotless. The way your smile appeared and disappeared depending on whether you thought he was looking. A lesser man might have missed it. Michael didn’t.

Slowly, he crossed the room. “Baby love.” The nickname was soft, gentle. And it usually made you look at him.

This time, it didn’t.

Michael’s smile faded slightly. He’s worried.

“Hey.” His hand settled lightly against your arm, stopping your endless circuit around the kitchen and only then did you glance up. The concern in his eyes nearly made you cry all over again. After spending weeks convincing yourself that Michael no longer wanted you, it felt deeply unfair that he still looked at you like that. With that stupidly beautiful face like your sadness mattered.

“You okay?” The question was simple.

And you hated it because it would’ve been much easier if he’d been cold. So much easier if he’d actually done something wrong. Instead, here he was. Standing in front of you after a fourteen hour day, still more interested in your feelings than his own exhaustion.

You nodded too quickly. “I’m fine, Mikey.”

Michael tilted his head. Patient. Skeptical. And entirely unconvinced. “You’re not.”

His statement wasn’t accusatory, it wasn’t even challenging. Just super matter of fact like noticing rain through a window.

You laughed weakly and turned back toward the counter. “I am.”

“This spot is about sick of you wipin’ it..” Your hand froze and Michael’s mouth twitched. “You wiped it about five times.”

The laugh that escaped you sounded suspiciously close to a sob. Immediately, the hint of amusement vanished from his face. Without saying anything else, he gently took the rag from your hand and set it aside. And he reached for you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest.

Michael rested his cheek against the top of your head, one hand slowly smoothing over your back as he held you there. Waiting. Patiently. The way he always did. Because Michael had never been the sort of person who demanded answers.

The problem was that once you finally opened your mouth, you weren’t entirely sure you could stop.

The first sound that escaped you wasn’t a sentence.

It was a wail.

A loud, ugly sob that seemed to surprise even you.

Michael immediately froze.

Because one second he was rubbing slow circles into your back and the next he was staring down at you with wide eyes, completely confused. “Hey..”

“I’ve been tryin’ to fix it!” You managed to get out through your cry.

“Fix what?”

“Whatever’s wrong with me!” You wiped your nose. “I changed my hair. I changed my nails. I bought all those dresses!”

Michael looked bewildered. “Why? Why would you think you need to fix somethin’? There’s nothing wrong with you, pretty girl..”

“Because!” You cry again. “You won’t fuck me!”

Silence settled over the kitchen.

Complete, suffocating silence.

You watched the realization arrive in stages. First confusion, as he tried to understand what you were actually saying. Then understanding. Then immediate, unmistakable embarrassment. His entire face went red so quickly it was almost impressive. The color climbed from his neck to his cheeks and straight into the tips of his ears. Michael looked away at once, suddenly finding the refrigerator, the cabinets, the floor, and quite possibly the structural integrity of the kitchen tiles more interesting than making eye contact.

“Oh.” The word emerged strained.

You sniffled miserably. “’s what I've been talking about this whole time..”

Another pause followed. Michael rubbed the back of his neck, his expression growing more flustered with every passing second. He looked like a man desperately searching for an emergency exit that didn’t exist.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“No, not okay,” He corrected immediately. “I mean..” His voice trailed off and the poor man looked completely mortified.

“That's what this is about?”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Yes, Michael!”

Michael squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment.

Because he was embarrassed.

Utterly, completely embarrassed.

For months you’d apparently been carrying this hurt around by yourself, blaming your hair, your nails, your clothes, your body, your face, your existence. Meanwhile, he had been operating under an entirely different misunderstanding. Now he had to explain himself, which unfortunately required discussing a subject that already had him blushing so hard he looked overheated.

The heat spread further down his neck.

“Michael.”

“I’m trying..”

”You’re making me anxious!”

He groaned softly and covered part of his face with one hand. “’m trying to figure out how to say it..”

You would’ve laughed if you weren’t actively fighting back tears because the sight would’ve been funny under different circumstances. Here you were having the emotional breakdown while Michael looked seconds away from dissolving into the floorboards.

“Baby,” he said quietly.

“What is it, Michael?”

His gaze dropped again. “You really thought I didn’t want you.. like that anymore?” The sheer disbelief in his voice almost offended you.

“Well, what was I supposed to think!” The question seemed to connect the dots for him because from your perspective, the conclusion made perfect sense. And suddenly his embarrassment gave way to guilt.

Deep, genuine guilt.

Because now he understood what these past months had looked like through your eyes. You hadn’t been obsessing over your hair or your dresses because you were vain, not that he would even mind anyway. You’d been trying to solve a problem, trying to fix something you believed was wrong with you.

When in reality, it had never been about you at all.

Michael swallowed then looked down at the floor. “It’s spreading.”

Your brow furrowed. “Huh?”

There’s long pause. “The vitiligo.” His voice had dropped almost to a whisper. “It’s spreading.” It seemed like he might stop there, he’d already said more than he wanted to but he forced himself to continue.

“On..” He swallowed. “Those parts.” The blush returned.

“Oh.” Your expression was unreadable.

Michael laughed softly, humorlessly. “It looks different now.” His eyes remained fixed on the floor. “I know it shouldn’t bother me.. but it does.” The words came out small as he continued. “I just..” He shook his head. “It’s ugly.”

You just stared at him and then stared some more. Blinked.

Because you were furious.

Absolutely, incandescently furious.

Months?

You had spent months without his dick, crying in bathroom, changing your hair, buying new clothes, and conducting increasingly deranged investigations into your own appearance while this man had been convincing himself that you would somehow stop loving him.

First of all, you didn’t even play like that.

“Ugly?” You repeated.

Michael visibly shrank. “Lovey, I—”

“Ugly?”

His eyes squeezed shut.

Before Michael could start apologizing, you grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him. Hard. And the sound he made was mostly surprise as you felt it more than heard it.

When you finally pulled back, Michael looked thoroughly stunned, curls slightly disheveled, cheeks still hot.

“You are ridiculous.”

“Okay.” Its all he can say, really.

Another kiss. “You are the most ridiculous man I’ve ever met.”

Somewhere between your outrage and Michael’s flustered attempts to explain himself, the conversation dissolved completely. Every time he tried to apologize, you interrupted him with a kiss. Every time he attempted to look away, you guided his attention back. By the time you found yourselves stumbling toward the bedroom, Michael looked overwhelmed in the particular way he always did whenever he realized he was being loved much more aggressively than he’d anticipated.

Michael lingered at the edge of the bed, still looking uncertain with the traces of insecurity that had brought the two of you here in the first place. You could see it in the way his shoulders were drawn tight, the way he avoided your gaze.

You moved closer as you sat between his thighs on your knees. “Michael.”

He glanced up at you. “Show me.”

Michael blushed as he slowly unbuttoned his jeans, hesitating before lifting his hips an inch to slide them down along with his boxers in the hooks of his thumbs. His initial reaction when he settled back down was to cover himself, for his big hands to hover protectively over his cock to shield your pretty eyes but he knew better. His hands trembled slightly as he revealed his semi hard cock, glancing up at you with eyes that look like he’s maybe expecting rejection or laughter. But he’s not met with any of that. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes because you’re staring at it and maybe if he closes his eyes, it would make him invisible. Michael knows it won’t but, it makes him feel a little better about exposing the dick he’s hid for months.

He hesitantly reached down, his beautiful fingers trembling slightly as he wrapped them loosely around his length. He gave it a gentle tug upward, his breath hitching at the soft sound that escaped him. The motion was tentative—careful he was unsure if he should even be doing this in the first place. Was this even a good idea? What was he thinking? What are you thinking?

Michael opens his eyes a little, to peek at you. Wait. Why were you looking at him like that? Like you.. like this or something? His cheeks burned with embarrassment and he kept his gaze lowered, unable to meet your gaze.

Because.

The look in your eyes was genuinely humiliating. Women had fought for your right to vote and own property only for you to sit there staring at Michael like you’d never had a coherent thought in your life. The look in your eye wasn’t remotely mysterious. There are novels worth of yearning written across your face.

You looked at him with shameless affection and a viseral need that would’ve embarrassed a lesser woman. Every thought seemed to be written plainly across your face. A very obvious: oh my God, it’s so fucking pretty. I need this in my throat.

Your hands slid slowly up his thighs, feeling the slight tremor in his muscles beneath your touch. He let out a shaky breath as you gently pushed his hands away, replacing them with your own. His hips twitched instinctively at the contact and he squeezed his eyes shut again, face burning as you slowly wrapped your fingers around his length instead.

Fuck, its been so long since you had his dick in your hands.

You could see what he’d been referring to. What he’s been so insecure about enough to hide from you and lose sleep over.

It’s different than what it was the last time you saw it. Yeah.

But his vitiligo had created a beautiful, unique pattern across his cock. His shaft was like a piece of abstract work of art; creamy ivory petal shaped patches mixed with brown and pink sections in a way that reminded you of neapolitan ice cream. His balls sat beneath with the same splashes of paler pigment.

“It’s so pretty, Michael.. You were hiding this from me?” you murmured softly, leaning in close. Before he could stammer out a response, your tongue darted out to taste him, starting at the base of his beautiful marbled shaft. You dragged your tongue upward along one of the paler patches, earning a sharp, breathless gasp from him.

Michael’s thighs trembled under your hands as your tongue traced the intricate patterns across his sensitive flesh. “You—you think it’s still pretty?” he breathed, voice cracking with disbelief as he finally looked down at you through lidded eyes. His hips bucked forward instinctively as you swirled around his tip, his shyness melting into need. ”I always thought it was ugly..”

“So pretty, baby..” You murmured against his cock. “Can’t believe you were worried about me not liking it.. God, Michael, he’s gorgeous—can’t wait to feel him cum. Missed him so much, did he miss me?”

“Don’t—don’t talk like that about it..” He manages to say.

The pattern continued across his pelvic area, lighter patchwork breaking through some of his deeper skin tone like poured cream, soft patches drifted across his mons pubis into delicate maps of contrast. Further down, his thighs bore the same mesmerizing pattern, ivory splashes dancing along the inner and outer legs that stretched down toward his knees.

Michael had gotten very good at hiding it. The lower half of his body was easy enough. He rarely wore anything that revealed much skin anyway, so long pants, socks, loafers, and layers concealed most of the areas the public never saw. It was the visible places that required the real effort. His face. His hands. His arms. The parts constantly photographed, filmed, and scrutinized. Topical treatments and makeup helped even out some of the discoloration there, making it easier to step in front of cameras without drawing attention to every new change.

The areas hidden beneath clothing were different. There was no makeup artist touching them up before an appearance. No careful lighting or tricks to soften what he saw. They existed entirely in private, which somehow made them harder to ignore. Michael knew his body intimately and because he spent so much time looking for changes on his face and hands, he noticed every new patch everywhere else too. What most people never would have thought twice about became impossible for him to overlook, leaving him alone with insecurities nobody else even knew he carried.

Standing at its full size, Michael’s cock was a sight—thick and long but it wasn’t.. overly large. He had perfect boyfriend dick, a dick big enough to stretch you out but not so big it would hurt every time you attempted to just sit on it.

He looked down at himself, then at you and his cheeks flushed deeply as he realized how hard he was and just how good you were sucking his dick. He’s not going to last long.

Your mouth closed around him, taking him deep into your throat while your fingers gripped the sparse curls of his pubic hair. Michael let out a broken moan, head falling back and surrendering completely as your warm mouth overwhelmed his usual hesitance.

You pressed your tongue flat against the sensitive underside of his cock, dragging it slowly from base to tip. The broad and smooth surface of your tongue applied pressure against a particular throbbing vein, earning a deep and guttural moan from him. His hips jerked involuntarily, his knuckle in between his pearly whites as he watched you with furrowed brows.

It was filthy.

“M gonna—finish, gonna—’M gonna..” He whined, voice strained. ”Where do you want it? In your m-outh? On your face? Don’t know where to put it..” His hands gripped the sheets tightly, tugging just slightly as his body coiled with impending release.

You pulled back, wrapping your hand around his cock instead, jerking him off fast and tight just how he liked it. ”Cum on my face, baby.” You urged, looking up at him with lust glazed eyes. “Paint me so pretty, just like this fucking dick..”

It only took three more rough strokes before he was cumming, a strangled moan escaping his throat as thick ropes of cum spilled across your face. It landed on your cheeks, dripped down your chin, splashed across your lips and even some hitting your forehead and hair. His hips stuttered against your fist as he emptied himself completely, trembling as the waves of pleasure crashed through him. “Baby.. baby..”

As the last few drops dripped onto your face, Michael slumped forward slightly, breathing heavily as he looked down at you with gratitude. He gently moved to cup your face, thumbs brushing away some of the cum that coated your skin. “Thank you..”

You smiled sweetly. “My turn.”

© michaeldiary. 2026. do not copy, repost, translate, or feed into ai.

[pinkiesmemoir]

“How did you get that in those jeans?”

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 Summary: Michael’s brothers can cross too many lines sometimes, and Michael knows his girl looks good, especially when she wears jeans.

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 wc.: 2.3k

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 Byi: mdni, 18+ smut established relationship, curvy/thick reader, P in V, unprotected sex, interrupted sex, thigh fucking,

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 a/n: Inspired by Bobby V.’s “Tell Me”, and the fact that I think I own maybe 3 pairs of jeans that aren’t bellbottoms, lol.

Bellbottom jeans were absolutely one of the best fashion statements of the 60’s-70’s, however, by ‘79 the fad had started to die out.

Not for Mike’s girl though, and definitely not for his eyes when he shamelessly watched your heartshaped ass swaying as you walked. Or when it’s a late fall afternoon, and you’re reaching out for a glass that’s just slightly out of reach, very subtly having to jump to grab it.

What’s not subtle is the way your ass still jiggles even in the rough material. Bouncing through the strained material as it struggles for dear life not to split. The edges of the pair of jeans showing had already started to fray, the wear after only a few months of you owning them.

The jeans held your ass perfectly, showing off your curves and plump thighs as you walked through the Encino household. Michael’s brothers were very aware of just the type of girl Michael had managed to land. Her sticky sweet lipgloss and strong floral perfume wafting through their doorways every time she came over.

“Damn girl, you gonna tear those things or what?” Tito called out to you, a light whistle under his breath as he leaned back against the counter.

You scoffed, turning your head towards the older brother, “Tito, watch your eyes. There’s nothing down there that’s for you,” your teeth showing in a grin, as you slapped the brother’s arm, scooching your way over to the ice box.

“Yeah, Mike’s gettin’ all that. Ain’t that right Mike?” Tito called out to the younger brother, laughing, as he pushed an exhaling Jackie.

“Damn right he is, look at him,” Marlon gestured over, “actin’ all shy like we don’t hear them gettin’ it on at night. Ooh, Mikey, you hittin’ it so good,” He mocked in a whiney voice, dodging as you hurled an ice cube at him, the cube’s target instead becoming Michael when it hits him in the face.

“Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean for that to hit you,” You said with an apologetic frown before turning to Marlon with narrowed eyes, “I was aimin’ for Marlon,”

Michael rolled his eyes at his brothers’ teases, “Enough out of all of you guys, don’t gotta talk about her like that,” he mumbled out, peeling open the back of Marlon’s shirt and pushed the cold cube down. Watching as Marlon cursed and did an awkward dance trying to get the cold thing off him.

You giggled at that, taking a sip of your drink as you felt Michael’s hand wrap around your free one, dragging you to him possessively.

Mike would never admit it, but sometimes his brothers’ teases did cause him a little upset, a ball of heat rising in his chest. Only getting bigger with each joke. He didn’t like it when they’d speak about you so vulgarly knowing they each had their own girls. The boys’ talks would mention recent music updates, the current sports teams they’d been betting on, and whatever sex topic that had happened to them of late, whether with groupies or the same ladies that were a few feet away from them having their own discussion.

When those conversations took place, Michael stayed silent, hands fidgeting as his responses died in comparison to the previous conversations. He was uncomfortable with sharing the details of your private life, wanting to keep that for him and himself only.

When you first started coming round the house more often, his brothers tried to ask him invasive questions, “you tap that yet?”, “but how well does she suck it?”, and inappropriate hand gestures, but he’d always shake his head, stammering a, “I don’t see how that’s any of y’alls business,” followed by his brothers exclaiming how their sweet ‘nd innocent angel of a little brother Michael couldn’t possibly handle, “all that”. He’d huff and storm off towards you and the girls, head propping onto your shoulder as his arms snaked around your waist, sighing when you leaned back into the familiar frame of his body.

You’d tilt your head up at him, acknowledging that he was there with a light peck on his temple, before returning to your conversation. You heard the distant, “He ain’t know how to take care of business,” as they all shuffled into the main room, joining in on the conversation. You laughed quietly under your breath when you realized what had gotten your usually shy boyfriend, all touchy. Michael usually choosing to refrain from much physical affection when others were nearby.

That had become the pattern whenever the brothers flirted with you, and while everyone knew that you were Mike’s girl and never meant any harm, it’d never stopped Michael's possessive side to come out.

He swiped his thumb across your knuckles as he held your hand, his other one coming up to the side of your hip to guide you away from the kitchen and upstairs, ignoring the whoops and knowing whistles from his brothers.

“Mikey baby, where we going?” You murmured, making your steps onto the plush carpeted stairs, knowing damn well.

“Jus’ goin’ to my room. It’s quieter anyways, they’re all bein’ stupid,” He said, eyes locked in on the way your ass pushed against your pants, hips rocking side to side as you continued your way up the staircase. The slight swishing of the denim rubbing against each other as your fat thighs connected to the other.

Mike loved your curves, he loved watching when you’d stand up, brushing your pants off and the way your shit would move. It was so sexual and you weren’t even doing anything. Not really. Though you might’ve exaggerated some movements when you felt his watchful gaze.

He loved when you would suffocate him, thighs closing around his head as he ate you out. He enjoyed struggling to breathe against you as you moved your hips across his face, not really caring about anything but the pleasure he was bringing you.

He loved when you’d be sitting on the couch together, legs thrown over his lap as his palm came down to rub on your thick thighs. Groping the fat of your skin as he squeezed it in his hand, fingers playing in your pussy as you sighed.

And right now he had an idea forming that he knew he would love as well.

Michael had your legs splayed out as he sat in the space between your thighs, bellbottom jeans torn off and thrown somewhere onto his bedroom floor as he'd stripped both of you down to nothing.

“Michael..stop teasin’,” you whined at him, wriggling your hips trying to get him to move. But Michael remained still, his own legs pressed against the backs of your plush thighs as he lazily drew the tip of his dick through your folds. Occasionally tapping it against your clit as you pouted at him.

“Jus’ be patient girl, ‘m gonna get you there. I always do,”

He gently pushed his hips, teasing your hole as he watched the tip of his dick slip in easily, shallowly thrusting. The obscene schlick from your wetness, made you bring your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment. Your desperation slipping out through your voice as you whine, begging him to go deeper.

But Michael didn’t push deeper, in fact he slid right back out with a pop, and you cried out in frustration,

“Mikey, just fuck me, please. I feel like ‘m dyin’” The heat surrounding the two of you was unbearable, your damp body sticking to his wherever your skin had made contact from the light sheen of sweat.

Michael just let out a quiet, “hmm” at you, grabbing your hands away from your face and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, fingers brushing away the few tears that had managed to escape from your welling eyes.

“I wanna do somethin’ different, is that okay sweet baby?” He asked you, hands going to the back of your thighs as his thumbs rubbed circles against them, lightly squeezing trying to push you into a response.

You peered up at him, biting your bottom lip as you nodded your head yes,

“‘m gonna need words from you babygirl,” he trailed his hand up, moving his thumb from your thigh to your clit, applying a dizzying amount of pressure as you tried to respond.

“Yes, fu-, Michael, it’s fine, please just do somethin’,” You moaned out, hands weakly pushing at his wrist.

As soon as the words of permission escaped your mouth breathlessly, Michael went to work. He removed his hand from your clit, ignoring your protests against the loss of sensation, and grabbed your ankles. He hoisted them up in the air and slung them both over his shoulder, bracing himself against you as he slid his dick in between your hot thighs, hands moving to push the fat even tighter against his dick and he let out a soft moan.

“Mm, baby you feel so good like this, feel like this where ‘m meant to be, right in between y’ legs,”

You moaned out at the feeling of his dick sliding in between your thighs, the sounds of his hips hitting yours filling the room with a light slap, slap, slap. You hadn’t known this is what he was asking you to do. It was filthy.

Looking up at Michael, his eyes screwed tight as he lost himself in your thighs, moaning shamelessly as his movements got more erratic, the brief rhythm he had set being forgotten as he whined.

“How ‘bout that, mama? Am I fuckin’ your thighs good? Hmm?” He asked, opening his eyes as he looked at your slack-jawed expression. He slowed his thrusts, when you didn’t respond. Tapping your ass and watching it jiggle.

“C’mon girl, answer me,”

“Y-yes, Mike, fuckin’ my thighs real good,”

“Yeah? Want me to be inside you for real now?” Michael paused his movements as he grabbed one of your legs that had been laying on his shoulder, pushing it up against your chest as he slotted himself back into you, pushing slowly in as you squirmed beneath him. Finally getting what you had been wanting so badly.

“That’s it, takin’ it so well f’me,” Michael praised as he entered you completely, your sopping cunt swallowing him down to the hilt. He let out a few experimental rolls of his hips, stroking into you deeply before picking up his pace.

He fucked into you relentlessly, holding the back of your knees up, as you reached back to grip the pillows. All but crying out in pleasure as he hit that spot deep inside you.

“Right there, oh you’re hittin’ it so good” Maybe Marlon hadn’t been too wrong about what you screamed during sex.

The headboard loudly knocking into the wall, but that sound seemed to not break through both of yalls sex driven daze, ignoring how loud you two had unknowingly been, forgetting all about the few brothers that had been downstairs just moments earlier. Or maybe Michael knew and he didn’t care.

“Feel so fucking good mikey oh shit, ‘mm gonna cum,” you moaned out.

“Baby, watch your mouth,” Michael frowned, hypocritically criticizing your language as a string of quiet curses spilled out.

Your eyes widened as you heard the sound of the boys’ low voices and heavy footsteps approached the door.

“Wait-mm, Mike stop,” you patted his arm that had caged you in, trying to grab his attention. But he didn’t stop, instead continuing to pound into you even deeper, dragging out moans you desperately tried to cover up.

“I know y’all not in there fuckin’ like animals,” Marlon teased, as the laughter of the other brothers followed.

“C’mon Marlon, leave ‘em alone now,” Jackie smacked his teeth.

“All y’all needa leave, ‘m busy,” Michael called out, his thrusts not slowing as he spoke. “Don’t need an audience when ‘m with my girl,” he muttered frustratedly, fingers going to rub his eyelids

Tito and Marlon cackled, “Yeah Mike, ‘m sure you’re real busy right now,”

Michael rolled his eyes, attention switching as he turned his gaze back over to you, hand reaching down between the two of you to rub lightly on your clit.

You were shameless at this point, mostly because it hadn’t been the first instance that the annoying brothers had gotten in the way of you and Michael’s alone time. Hell there were too many of them to get any real privacy. The tension that had been built up was so high, and with Michael’s parents out of the house for a few hours, you’d-in prenut clarity- decided you didn’t care about the boys outside the door, and Michael? Well Michael thought he’d show out.

“Oh fuck! ‘m so close baby, please. Don’t stop, oh don’t stop, ‘m gonna cum, ‘m cummin’” you moaned, fucking back against him,

“Oh shit,” Marlon’s voice quieting as he looked at his other two brothers, “Guess he can take care on business”

The slap of skin was heard outside the door, Jackies voice following, “Marlon leave ‘em the hell alone,”

“What? ‘M jus’ sayin’” Marlon reached his hand up to rub at his neck awkwardly.

“For real though Mike, we ‘s’posed to be leavin’ soon, hurry it up,” Jackie yelled out, ushering Marlon and Tito back downstairs, the fading sounds of footsteps following.

Michael laid back against his bed, arms folding over his chest as he stared at you.

While Michael had decided to take his time with getting dressed, you were already up. Back turned to him, with your panties and bra on as you stepped into your jeans. Jumping into them as you tried to get the fat of your ass inside the pair of pants.

He watched you struggle to pull them on, wiggling your hips around, ass just jiggling tantalizingly in front of him, unknowing of the hardness you were causing.

He swung his feet over the side of the bed, feet padding against the floor as he made his way quietly over to you, wrapping you in his arms, voice low in your ear,

“Y’ know, we ain’t gotta leave right now…” he planted a kiss behind your ear, pressing himself into you.

You rolled your eyes at his words, turning around to face him as your arms went around his neck, pulling him in for a light peck, “No baby, we gotta go-mmph,” he interrupted your sentence, placing light kisses on your lips as you spoke, “Your brothers are already, mmph waiting for us. Don-mmph wanna make them late too,”

Michael pulled back and stared at you, a gentle smile on his face as he looked at you with such devotion and love, it made your heart melt, but you’d known this boy and his little tricks.

“No, we are leaving, get dressed c’mon,” You removed yourself from his hold, turning over to grab his clothes that had been on the floor.

Feeling the hard, smack, that had landed right on your ass as you bent down.

“Michael Joseph Jackson”