you're absolutely head over heels, in love with your boyfriend clark kent. so naturally, that means you peg him.
MDNI 18+ pegging, clark kent/superman, praise kink, slight degradation kink, dom!reader, sub!clark kent, aftercare, lots of smiling, nipple play, light choking, fingering, dirty talk, sweet kansas boy clark, established relationship, porn no plot (sue me), flustered clark kent, he has dimples aww (1.6k wc)
You smiled as soon as you saw him.
Clark was already on his knees when you stepped into the room, broad shoulders tense, quivering hands on his lap as his cheeks burned red. What a sight.
He could stop earthquakes with those hands, hold up collapsing buildings, but right now they were gripping the sheets like he was the one about to fall apart.
His glasses sat crooked on his flushed face, and you grinned as you tilted his chin up.
“It's funny isn't it?” you murmured, dragging your thumb over his pink trembling lower lip, “the world’s strongest man supposedly, but look at him…shaking because I told him to bend over.”
His breath hitched and your smile widened.
You pout mockingly as he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing.“What is it honey? Are you scared?” you ask as your hands thread through his hair softly and his eyes flutter sweetly as you slip off his foggy glasses.
You grip his hair, beckoning him to open those sweet baby blues.
“Look at me honey.”
He obeyed, pupils blown wide as he gazed up at you like you’d hung the moon and stars. “I–I’m not scared… just nervous.”
You smile fondly down as you cup his burning cheeks.
“I know baby, I know. What's your color?”
“Green.” He breathed out. You smile and nod once.
“Good boy.” you purred warmly.
He smiled dimply at the praise, pulse racing under your touch as you rubbed your hands across his blotchy, pretty face.
So sweet.
Your hands slid down to his shoulders, pressing him firmly into place before trailing lower to his chest. You pinched his puffy pink nipples, earning a broken whimper, and cooed softly.
“Baby likes it when I pinch his nipples?” you teased, rolling them between your fingers as his bottom lip trembled. The sound of his groan only made your smile widen.
You trail your hands lower, goosebumps rising in their wake, until you stop exactly where he wants you most, at the happy trail leading down to his hardness. Just feeling the weight of him in your hand makes your mouth water like an animal. So fucking thick.
You smile at him, eyes hazy with lust, before leaning down to press a kiss to his slit. He jolts, a shaky gasp escaping his throat and you almost snort before dipping lower to press a soft kiss to his heavy balls. His mewl makes you sigh softly. Suddenly, you grab his thighs and spread him open…hungry to see it.
And fuck it’s beautiful.
His pretty little hole puckering as you bite your lip as you lewdly spit right on it and he gasps as you rub your thumb over it and you praise him softly before slipping in your thumb and his eyes roll back beautifully as his back arches and he whines pathetically as you moan ever so softly as you fuck your thumb into him.
“Look at you..filthy, filthy man. How do you think they’d react if they knew Superman loves getting fingered like a slut?”
He whines at your words as he grips the sheets harder and you shake your head before slipping in another finger.
“Dirty boy. Look at you. Man of Steel, huh?” You laughed low and teasing, You let a few drops of lube slick your fingers as you worked him open, and he cried out when it squelched obscenely.
You bite your lip and watch his face as you smile down at him. “Hear that?” you teased as the lube squelched between your fingers. “Messy fucking slut.”
His eyes roll back at your filthy words as he chokes out your name.
“Please…I need it so bad. Please fuck me…”
You cooed softly, nodding as you pried him open slow and deep, watching the way his eyes fluttered, cheeks flushed pink, and ears burning red. He stared up at you with so much need it made you want to kiss his face off.
“Impatient, honey?” you murmured, voice low but firm. “I don’t want to hurt you. I want to make you feel good. Take it like a good boy, and be patient.”
He whimpered when your hand closed around his throat, eyes dark as you stared at him as his eyes stared back up at you watery and so pretty.
“And you’re taking it so fucking good,” you purred. “So pretty. So obedient, you know that?” you ask with a nod, not asking him but telling him.
He nods like a good boy, licking at his bottom lip as his eyes drop to your mouth, begging without a word.
Too scared to ask.
You smirk, tightening your grip on his throat before finally leaning in, You kiss him messy and deep, teeth catching on his bottom lip before you nibble, moaning into his mouth as he whimpers back as your fingers tickle his sweet spot and those sweet eyes widen as he gasps, which gives you the opportunity to attempt to suck a hickey into the kryptonian’s exposed neck, knowing it’ll fade as soon as the sun kisses him.
You don’t care. You keep nibbling, claiming him anyway.
The deeper you pry him open—wet, relentless—the harder he pleads. Begging for more. And fuck, it makes you ache like a motherfucker.
Finally, you slip your slick fingers free, wiping them carelessly on the sheets—already ruined, destined for the wash after tonight.
“What’s your color, baby?” you command.
“G-green… please,” he stammers, and you hum in approval.
“Good boy. Now lift that pretty ass up for me.”
He obeys, arching up, and you can’t help but smirk at how eager and needy he looks.
“Spread that ass for me, lemme see what's mine.”
His big powerful hands shake, as he shyly lifts his legs, exposing himself as he spreads his cheeks apart as it clenches around nothing and you bite your lip and groan as you gaze at him like the fucking masterpiece that he is.
“God, youre so fucking beautiful clark. I can't wait to stretch you out.”
He whines and shakes like a damn leaf under your gaze. You grab the strap, slicking it with an obscene amount of lube.
You line the strap against his hole, the slick head wet, nudging as he whimpers into the sheets.
You pause, just to savor the sight—then slap the tip against him. He moans, broken.
”s-shit.” he hisses out.
Finally, you press forward into his puckering hole.The stretch pulls a ragged gasp from his chest, his thighs shaking as you ease in slow, relentless.
You watch his face closely for his reaction,his eyes blown widely as his mouth forms into a little ‘o’ as he drags in a deep, shaky breath.
“That's it honey…taking it so beautifully. what's your color, hm?”
His eyes water deliciously as he pants out.
“Green…it’s- it’s so deep inside.”
You press a hand to his stomach, feeling yourself bulge in him as his eyes roll back. Sweat beads down his collarbones, his sobs brokenly as you drag all the way out—nearly slipping free—before slamming back in with a wet smack obscenely and you moan.
“Look at you, Clark,” you growl, voice thick with lust. “Taking it so good… feel how deep it is inside you? How wet you are?”
He pants your name like a prayer, eyes glassy, lips trembling as pre-cum blurts all over his stomach and your hand as you pistol your hips into him and he grunts deeply and you bite your lower lip with desire for the sweetest man you've ever known.
God, hes so fucking hot.
He moans and whines as you slam relentlessly into him, pinching his puffy nipples and wrapping your hand around his throat. He pleads, desperate for release.
“P-please… I can’t take it anymore. I need to cum… please…” His eyes are watery, lips bitten red, and your chest flutters at the sight of him undone, your baby oh so desperate for it. You coo softly.
“You’ve been so good for me, honey.”
You slip your other hand from his stomach to wrap around his length. He tenses immediately, eyes squeezing shut as you rub his tip—so hard it almost hurts to look at, purple and bobbing.
“I’m gonna—” He cuts himself off, spilling all over your hand and his stomach. You keep thrusting, milking every last drop of his orgasm as he sobs your name again and again. You hum in approval, relishing every sound.
His eyes cross as he sees stars, shuddering as you ride out his orgasm before he finally melts into the bed.
He opens his hazy eyes to see you licking the cum off your hand and his stomach, humming in approval.
“Always so sweet, baby… so sweet.”
He shivers, eyes fluttering shut again, and you slowly pull out, glancing down at his abused hole with appreciation. You kiss his thigh softly before rising, leaving him sprawled on the bed—sweaty, tired, and blissfully broken.
You walk back in moments later with a warm, damp rag and some water. Your feet thud softly on the floor as you crawl onto the bed, gently wiping him down. He hisses, and you shush him with a soft kiss to his pounding chest before crawling up to cuddle him, scratching at the meta-human’s head as he purrs quietly.
“You did so well, honey. Took everything I gave you, all with that dimpled smile… I’m so proud,” you murmur into his ear, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
He smiles, his heavy, warm body draping over yours. You laugh softly, wrapping your arms around him, holding him close.
You're definitely pegging him again that's for damn sure.
erm hey guys....i love superman and clark kent and i dont think ive ever read a pegging fic of him...so i lowkirkenuenly had to take matters into my own hands!!! i hope you enjoyed it, this is the longest (and first!!) fic ive ever written and im very proud of it!!
an. here's a little toji drabble. it's a little long... i got carried away.
cw. cocky toji! him and reader are in a relationship, unprotected sex, mentions of mating press, riding, cream pie, dirty talk, black reader! as always
Toji is a cocky bastard. It doesn’t matter what he does, he always does it with an arrogant smirk and snarky remarks. He doesn’t mean it of course, he just loves riling people up. Especially you. When you both first met, he pissed you off so bad. You were having a horrible day and thought maybe you could grocery shop in peace. You were looking forward to grabbing your favorite sweet treat. There was only one left and so you went to grab it but apparently he wanted the same thing and snatched it up faster than you can blink.
You had cussed him clean out. Mainly because of the day you were having, he had just been your last straw. While you cursed at him, angrily pointing fingers in his face. He had only smirked, he fell in love right then and there watching the prettiest woman he’s ever seen yell at him in the middle of the grocery store. After you were done, he gave you the sweet you wanted so badly and asked for your number like asking for the time. The sad part is… you gave him your number. Since then, that was the only version of Toji you knew. Confident, taking up space, and having the smartest mouth that mankind has ever seen. Even in bed he was annoying. Folding you up in the meanest mating press and fucking you into the matress. Saying the nastiest shit you could imagine, all with that signature smirk on his face. You loved it every time. He always made you cum that way. The dirty talk, the confidence, it did it for you. It wasn’t until way further into your relationship when he finally revealed his duality.
“Lemme ride you,” You murmur against his lips. His tongue practically down your throat as he nods. He’s manspreading on the couch of your apartment. He’s already gotten your shirt off, your pants off, and your panties slightly askew. You straddle his lap, pussy dripping wet, aching for the familiar stretch of his thick cock. He deepens the kiss, pulling your curls to tug your head back. You moan and grind down on his bulge shamelessly. He smirks against your plump lips.
“Bet that pussy’s leaking for me,” He mumbles. You feel the rumble of his voice in his chest against yours and huff, starting to pout. Fuck, does he love that expression. He pulls back to watch you grind on him as you let out little frustrated whines. You need more and he’s right there. “You’re so whiny, baby. You need me that badly?” He taunts just to see that pout deepen. You huff again, whining some more before taking matters into your own hands.
“Shut up,” You grumble as you tug his sweats down. His thick, heavy length springing free. You’re impatient. Biting your lip, you’re already pulling your panties to the side and lining him up with your dripping entrance. He grins, placing his hands behind his head as he watches you. His tongue slowly traces the scar on his lip, the arrogance never leaving him. You slowly lower yourself onto his dick with a loud moan. The girth of him stretching and filling you so good you tear up a little. He groans, still smirking.
“You look so pretty sitting on my dick, baby,” He coos. You roll your eyes, your hips slowly starting to move up and down his cock. He lets out another groan, as you build a rhythm. He’s still talking shit being all bold and cocky as you cream all over his cock. Eventually, your rhythm falters and you sigh, not quite getting the pleasure you want. So you pause, adjusting so that the soles of your feet are planted on either side of his thighs and you bounce that way. Able to get the right pace. You see him tense, his hands moving quickly to grip your hips as he lets out a moan. Your eyebrows lift slightly as you stop, thinking you may have hurt him.
“Toji? You okay?” You question. The words barely leave your lips as he nods quickly.
“Yeah, keep going,” He mumbles, not even looking at you. You hum softly before picking up that same pace that has him tensing again, this time he whines. Something awakens inside you. “Shit… don’t stop,” He groans, his hands falling to his sides. You moan at the neediness of his voice and you’re now slamming your hips down. Riding him within an inch of his life. He doesn’t shut up. “Fuck, this pussy is so good, baby. I fucking love you. Squeezing me so tight… Thank you, thank you, thank you,” He’s whining, his eyes rolled back into his skull as he weakly thrusts up into your warm wetness. You’re creaming up his dick, making a mess of his thighs, your cunt clenching tight as you get closer and closer.
“Gonna cum, Toji!” You cry out. He nods, desperation oozing in his tone as he practically begs you to cum around length. It’s so much. You’ve never seen him like this so whiny and desperate. Your orgasm rips through your body. Your legs shaking, and your pussy pulsating around his cock as you moan and whine. He follows immediately after, groaning low and deep as he floods your walls with his hot, sticky seed.
You both pant heavily. Sweaty and sticky, but satisfied. You look at him, a smug smile pulling at your lips and he rolls his eyes. “Shut up, woman,” He huffs. You laugh, happy to finally be the cocky one.
“I didn’t say anything,” You say, feigning innocence. He narrows his eyes at you and you giggle. You peck his lips once, then twice before pulling back. “It was cute,”
“No, it wasn’t,”
“Toji, I liked it,”
“My pride will never recover,”
“You’re so dramatic,”
“This will never happen again,” He says firmly, his lips pulled into a frown. You chuckle, kissing away his frown and sighing.
rival heat 1 - part 2
pairing: thriller mj x pop!star reader
summary: backstage tension between two rival pop stars erupts into fierce, raw passion.
warnings: smut, mdni, 18+, p in v, tension, enemy to lovers kinda thing, bratty reader x annoying michael lol
based on this request! hope u love this honey
the green room backstage at the grammy awards smells like hairspray, panic, and three thousand dollars' worth of rented jasmine arrangements that are already wilting under the heat of the lighting rigs.
you are standing in front of the illuminated vanity mirror, aggressively pinning a diamond-encrusted vintage brooch to the lapel of your stunning, floor-sweeping champagne gold silk dress, when the heavy oak door swings open without so much as a polite knock.
you don’t even have to turn around to know who it is. the air in the room instantly drops ten degrees, heavy with that familiar, suffocating mix of expensive sandalwood, absolute arrogance, and the unmistakable scent of someone who believes the earth rotates entirely on his axis.
"you're standing in my light," a voice drawls from the doorway. it’s soft, pitched at that maddeningly smooth, teasing register that makes your teeth grind together into powder.
you catch his reflection in the mirror. michael jackson—the reigning, untouchable king of pop, currently sporting a breathtaking shimmery blue military jacket dripping with enough gold bullion and crystal embroidery to fund a small european nation—is leaning lazily against the doorframe. his arms are crossed tightly over his chest, and that infuriating, crooked little smirk is playing at the corner of his mouth.
you turn slowly, meeting his dark, mocking gaze through the glass before facing him head-on.
"your light?" you echo, raising a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow as you cross your arms to match his posture. "oh, forgive me, michael. i didn't realize the venue management specifically designated the north corner of dressing room b as the official shrine to your ego."
michael chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends an immediate, spiteful jolt of electricity straight down your spine. he pushes off the doorframe, walking toward you with that feline, predatory grace that makes every single music journalist in the industry write breathless essays about him.
"it’s not an ego, sweetheart," he says, stepping close enough that you can see the faint, professional dusting of stage makeup over his sharp cheekbones. "it’s just gravity. wherever i go, the room tends to tilt toward me. though i suppose someone with your... modest chart placement this quarter wouldn't understand how physics work."
your jaw tightens so hard it clicks. modest chart placement. three weeks ago, your lead single blocked his second-week run at number one, and he has spent every waking second since then trying to puncture your tires in interviews, on red carpets, and now, apparently, in your own designated sanctuary.
"my chart placement," you snap, stepping right into his personal space, refusing to give an inch, "managed to knock you out of the top spot while you were busy releasing twenty-minute cinematic music videos about a graveyard. how's the weather down there in second place, michael? is the air thin?"
michael's eyes flash, the playful amusement instantly hardening into something sharp, dark, and dangerously competitive. he doesn't step back. instead, he bends down just a fraction, lowering his face until his lips are dangerously close to your ear.
"you're awfully brave for someone who looked like a terrified deer caught in headlights during the soundcheck this afternoon," he whispers, his voice dropping into a velvety, mocking purr that sends a hot, furious shiver over your skin. "keep running that pretty mouth of yours, and see what happens when we're out on that stage tonight."
"are you threatening me, jackson?" you hiss, turning your head so your nose is inches from his cheek. "because if you're planning to trip me during the performance, you might want to consider the lawsuit."
"i don't need to trip you," he murmurs back, a wicked, triumphant glint in his eyes as he straightens up, smoothing down the lapel of his shimmery blue jacket with excruciating slowness. "i'm just going to blow you off the stage so thoroughly that your stylists will have to legally change your name by midnight."
"get out of my dressing room," you point a sharp fingernail toward the door, your voice trembling with pure, unadulterated venom.
michael just flashes that blinding, utterly obnoxious superstar smile, backing away toward the door with theatrical reluctance.
"break a leg, baby," he sings out over his shoulder, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that leaves your ears ringing.
twenty minutes later, the atmosphere out on the main arena floor is absolute bedlam.
the applause is a physical wall of sound, the kind of roar that rattles your ribcage before you even step past the black velvet curtains. you are nominated for album of the year alongside him, and the tension between your camp and his has turned the backstage corridors into a demilitarized zone.
you watch from the wings as michael performs. damn him. curse his soul to hell. he owns the stage with a terrifying, effortless magnetism—spinning, sliding, kicking his leg out in that shimmering blue jacket with a jagged, feral energy that makes thirty thousand people scream themselves hoarse. when the song hits its climax, he stops dead center under a blinding pillar of white spotlight, chest heaving beneath his sweat-drenched shirt, and deliberately—deliberately—turns his head to stare straight into your camera in the wings, flashing that arrogant, razor-sharp grin right at you.
the crowd loses its collective mind. you want to commit arson.
"and the winner for international artist of the year is..." the presenter’s voice booms over the PA system, cutting through the roaring haze in your brain.
"...michael jackson."
the explosion of sound is deafening. pyrotechnics shoot up from the stage rim as michael steps forward, smoothing his hair, wearing the expression of a man who genuinely believes he invented gravity, music, and the alphabet.
as he passes your seat in the front row to head up the stairs, he slows down just enough for his shoulder to deliberately, insolently brush against yours.
"try not to trip on your way to clink your glass for me, loser," he murmurs under his breath, flashing a blinding flashbulb smile for the cameras as he sweeps past you up the steps.
your hands curl into tight fists in your lap, your fingernails biting into your palms. oh, you absolute bastard.
by 2:00 am, the official afterparty at a private penthouse suite overlooking central park is a blur of clinking champagne flutes, flashing camera bulbs, and suffocating industry small talk.
you have spent the last hour dodging record executives and trying to scrub the taste of defeat out of your mouth with dry martinis, when a heavy hand catches your elbow in the shadowy corridor near the private service elevators.
before you can open your mouth to scream security, you are yanked backward into an empty, dimly lit coat room. the heavy oak door clicks shut behind you, plunging the small space into absolute, heavy silence, broken only by the muffled bass thumping through the walls from the party downstairs.
you spin around, pressing your back against the wood panels.
michael is standing right in front of you, his shimmery blue jacket discarded somewhere, leaving him in a sheer black silk shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, his dark curls damp and clinging to his forehead. the arrogant public mask is completely gone, replaced by something heavy, dark, and burning with a frantic, undeniable heat.
"what the hell is wrong with you?" you snap, your voice dropping to a harsh whisper as you try to shove past his chest. "are you completely out of your mind, dragging me into a—"
michael doesn't let you finish.
his hand shoots out, pinning your wrist flat against the door beside your head with a sudden, possessive force that steals the breath right out of your lungs. his other hand cups your jaw, his long fingers tangling fiercely into your hair, tilting your face up.
"you talk too much," he whispers, his voice rough, dark, and trembling with a sudden, suppressed fury that has nothing to do with awards and everything to do with the way you've been driving each other insane for the past six months. "you've been running that smart mouth of yours all night."
"and you've been acting like an insufferable, egotistical—"
he cuts you off by crashing his lips down onto yours.
it isn't sweet. it's a collision—a desperate, bruising clash of teeth and unyielding pride. the months of biting remarks, chart wars, and venomous red-carpet glares melt away into a raw, frantic hunger. your hands, freed from his grip, instantly fly up to fist into the silk of his shirt, pulling him down against you with equal desperation as you open up to him, a sharp gasp swallowed by his mouth.
michael groans, a low, guttural sound vibrating deep in his chest. he kisses you like a man dying of thirst who has finally found poison, his tongue sweeping aggressively into your mouth, tasting of champagne and pure, unadulterated friction.
"god, you drive me insane," he murmurs against your lips, biting down sharply on your lower lip just enough to draw a soft, breathless hiss from you. "every single time you look at me like i'm beneath you... i want to ruin you."
"try it, jackson," you pant, your fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back, pulling him flush against your hips so he can feel exactly how much you hate him—and how badly you want him.
the friction between your bodies is immediate and explosive. michael’s hand drops from your hair, sliding down your neck, over your collarbone, and aggressively tearing at the zipper of your gold champagne dress, shoving the silk off your shoulders until it pools around your waist with a muffled thud. his fingers curve over your bare breast, his palm pressing hard, kneading you with a rough, demanding urgency that makes your knees buckle.
"michael—" you gasp against his mouth, arching your spine into his touch as a hot wave of liquid heat floods straight through your core.
he doesn't answer with words. he dips his head down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing over your sensitive skin right where your pulse is hammering wildly.
"you think you're the star of this room?" he growls softly against your skin, his hands moving down to grip your waist, lifting you effortlessly so your legs lock tight around his hips. "tell me who runs this room."
you bury your hands deep into his long, tangled curls, pulling his head back so his dark, heavy-lidded eyes are forced to lock onto yours in the dim light.
"you do," you whisper, your voice thick, trembling, and dripping with a defiant, breathless pride even as your hips grind instinctively against his erection through your clothes. "you do, now shut up and prove it."
michael lets out a sharp, feral laugh against your mouth before crashing his lips back onto yours in a brutal, consuming kiss.
he carries you backward against the small velvet-upholstered bench in the corner of the coat room, his hands tearing at your clothes with a frantic, impatient rhythm, stripping away every last layer of defense between two people who spent all night trying to destroy each other, and ended up destroying the world instead.
the coat room is suffocatingly hot, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume, sweat, and raw, unfiltered friction.
michael pins you down against the narrow velvet bench, his heavy body caging you in completely. his shirt is torn open, his chest heaving, and his dark eyes are wild, burning with an intense, proprietary fury that makes your pulse spike.
you lift your chin, glaring up at him even as your fingers dig frantically into the taut muscles of his back, pulling him closer.
"you're such an insufferable, arrogant brat," you pant, your voice sharp and laced with venom, though your hips roll up against him involuntarily, desperate for the friction. "you couldn't stand sharing the spotlight tonight, could you? had to drag me in here just to prove a point."
michael lets out a dark, breathless laugh, his lips brushing dangerously close to your throat before he bites down sharply on the sensitive skin of your neck, making you gasp.
"shut up," he growls against your skin, his hands shoving your underwear aside with rough, impatient urgency. "you're the one with the filthy mouth, always running off at the press conferences, acting like you're untouchable. such a stubborn, rude little princess."
"fuck you, michael," you hiss, your breath catching as his fingers slide between your thighs, finding you soaked and aching.
"oh, i am, baby..." he mutters, his voice dropping into a thick, gravelly rasp that sends a shiver straight down your spine.
without warning, he positions himself at your entrance. he doesn't bother with a slow build-up or gentle strokes; he grabs your hips with bone-crushing possessiveness, his large hands bruising your skin, and drives straight into you in one deep, hard thrust.
the sheer suddenness and size of him makes a sharp cry tear from your throat. his long, thick length fills you completely, stretching you tight and sending an electric shockwave of intense heat straight through your core.
michael freezes for a fraction of a second, his head dropping back against the dark wall of the coat room, his eyes rolling shut as a deep, guttural groan vibrates out of his chest. the walls of your wet pussy clench around him automatically, gripping him so tightly that his whole body shudders.
"god... you're so tight," he breathes, his voice shaking with raw, unchecked lust. "fucking hell..."
"you're... you're too rough," you gasp, your nails clawing into his shoulders, leaving angry red marks over his skin as your internal muscles contract around him. "you absolute asshole—"
"don't stop talking," michael demands, his rhythm turning brutal and demanding.
he pulls almost all the way out just to slam back into you with a heavy, wet thud that echoes off the wooden walls. the pace is fast, rough, and punishing, completely driven by the months of built-up rivalry, ego clashes, and bitter resentment that have finally boiled over into pure, carnal rage.
every thrust hits you deep, knocking the wind from your lungs. your legs lock tight around his waist, pulling him deeper, harder into you as you curse at each other between ragged, broken gasps.
"you think you can just take whatever you want?" you cry out, your head thrashing against the velvet cushion as he pounds relentlessly into your soaked core, the slick, sloppy sounds filling the small room.
"i am taking it," michael snarls, his face dark and fierce, looking down at you like a predator claiming his prize. "you've been asking for this all year, haven't you? pretending you don't want me."
"i hate you," you moan, the words losing all their venom as a massive, blinding wave of pleasure begins to build low in your stomach, threatening to tear you apart.
"hate me all you want," michael pants, his thrusts turning wilder, hitting your sweet spot with a punishing accuracy that makes your vision blur at the edges. "just take it. take it all."
the friction is unbearable, the heat building to a fever pitch. you arch your back off the bench, your body tightening around his massive length as you hit the edge.
"michael—fuck, i'm—"
"together," he commands fiercely, his own breathing turning ragged and desperate.
he buries himself as deep as he possibly can, slamming into you one last time with a heavy, brutal thrust as you shatter completely around him, crying out his name against his shoulder. the intense contraction of your pussy pushes michael over the edge. a low, broken shout tears from his throat as he floods you with his heat, his entire body trembling violently as he holds you down, completely undone by you in the dark.
the aftermath in the coat room is heavy, quiet, and still, save for the ragged sound of your synchronized breathing slowly returning to a normal rhythm. the adrenaline is fading, leaving behind a sticky warmth and a profound, dazed silence.
michael hasn't moved from where he collapsed against you. his head is resting heavily in the crook of your neck, his face buried against your shoulder, his arm draped over your waist with a possessive, boneless weight. his skin is flushed and damp, and you can feel the slow, heavy thud of his heart against your chest.
slowly, you lift a hand, threading your fingers through his damp, tangled curls, gently scratching at his scalp. it’s a domestic, tender gesture that feels completely surreal given the hostility of just an hour ago.
michael lets out a long, shaky exhale, his breath warm against your skin. he shifts slightly, lifting his head just enough to look at you. the arrogance of the stage, and the fierce intensity of the past few minutes, are completely gone from his eyes. instead, they look wide, dark, and incredibly vulnerable, swimming with something that looks terrifyingly like shyness.
his cheeks are flushed a faint pink, and he bites his lower lip, looking down at where your dress is ruined around your waist before meeting your gaze again. he seems almost boyish, hesitant, as if he’s waking up from a fever dream and realizing what he’s done.
"hi," he whispers, his voice raspy and soft, completely stripped of the earlier growl.
you manage a small, breathless smile, your thumb brushing against his cheekbone. "hi yourself."
michael pushes himself up slowly, sitting on the edge of the velvet bench, though he keeps one hand firmly on your thigh, as if grounding himself. he looks away from you, towards the dark corner of the room, running a hand nervously through his hair.
"um," he starts, his voice barely audible, sounding uncharacteristically awkward. "that... that was, uh. wow."
you chuckle softly, sitting up and pulling the torn bodice of your champagne dress up to cover your chest. "yeah. it was. 'wow' pretty much covers it."
he finally looks at you, his dark eyes earnest and searching. "i didn't... i didn't plan for this to happen. i swear to you. i just saw you in that dress, looking like a queen, and then you were arguing with me, and my blood was boiling, and..." he trails off, shaking his head, looking miserable. "god, i’m sorry if i was too rough. i just lost control."
"don't apologize," you interrupt him gently, reaching out to take his hand. his grip is warm and tight. "i wasn't exactly fighting you off, was i?"
michael offers a small, crooked, shy smile, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "no. you weren't. you were, uh, quite the opposite."
he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours. it’s a stark contrast to the bruising kisses of earlier.
the silence stretches again, but it's comfortable now, filled with a different kind of tension.
eventually, you ask the question hanging heavy in the air. "so. what happens now, michael? do we... do we just walk out that door and pretend this never happened? chalk it up to awards show madness? a dirty little secret?"
michael stiffens immediately. he tightens his grip on your hand, shaking his head violently.
"no," he says, his voice firm and immediate, lacking any hesitation. he scoots closer on the bench, turning his body fully toward you. "no, absolutely not. i don't want that. i won't do that."
he pauses, looking down at your intertwined hands before looking back up at you, his expression serious and sincere.
"i've been an idiot to you for six months," he confesses quietly. "i hated that you were my competition, i hated that you were so good, and i guess... i just didn't know how to handle the fact that i was completely fascinated by you. everything i did, the stupid comments, the rivalry... it was just me being a brat because i wanted your attention and i didn't know how to ask for it."
he takes a deep breath, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand.
"after this," he murmurs, looking into your eyes with a raw intensity that makes your breath hitch, "i don't want to be your enemy anymore. i don't want a one-night stand. i want to start over. properly. if you'll let me."
you stare at him, stunned. the biggest star on the planet, the untouchable michael jackson, is sitting in a coat room, looking nervous and asking for a second chance.
"start over how?" you whisper.
michael smiles, and this time, it’s not a smirk. it’s soft, hopeful, and genuine.
"i want to treat you right," he says, his voice dropping to a velvety, earnest register. "no more rivalry, no more fighting in the press. i want to take you out. like... properly. on dates. dinners, movies, dancing. i want to get to know you, outside of all this chaos. i want to court you, if you'll give me the chance to show you who i really am behind the glove and the jacket."
he leans his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection. "please? let me make it up to you. let me treat you like the only woman in the world, because that's what you feel like right now."
your heart swells, a warm, terrifying feeling spreading through your chest. you look at him, truly look at him—not the icon, but the man in the torn sheer shirt, looking at you with hope and vulnerability.
you squeeze his hand, feeling a smile break across your face. "alright, michael. alright. start over. sounds like a plan."
michael lets out a surprised, joyful laugh, burying his face in your neck again, hugging you tightly. "thank you," he breathes into your skin, his voice thick with relief. "thank you. you won't regret it."
pulling back, he brushes your hair away from your face, his gaze tender. "come on. let's get out of this dusty coat room. i need a drink, and i have a feeling we have a lot to talk about."
he helps you stand up, smoothing down your dress with awkward, careful hands, and then holds out his arm for you, with that signature, charming, old-school gentlemanly grace that is entirely, undeniably michael jackson.
Hey queennn! Could u do a fic during otw era where he’s like pervy and inexperienced and lowkey desperate for u
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ teach me • Otw!Michael x reader
⤷ ゛Synopsis ˎˊ˗ Inexperienced Michael's dreams finally come true !
𑣲⋆ warnings : Virgin mike. Pervy mike. Pussy eating. Teaching him to eat it right. Overly Desperate. Praise
Being an inexperienced virgin made Michael do things that he wouldn't typically do, like the time you bent down and your skirt hiked up just enough so that your panties peeked out slightly, and he stared the whole time like some kind of dog in heat, but don't get him started on the time when you decided to watch a scary movie, and you were so scared that you hopped into his lap, and y'know, it felt so wrong to be getting hard at your fear, but the fact that you were sitting right on his lap, ass pressed against him. Your bodies so close that he could nearly hear your heart beating. The heat from your body radiating against his skin only makes that bulge in his pants grow tighter, almost making it feel like he was claustrophobic.
So, when it came down to you two in his room late at night with you in nothing but your bra, your tits pressed together so nicely that it was the only thing he could look at even when you had your panties slid down and tossed somewhere in the room, the muffled sounds of his desperate groans hitting the space of the room.
“Mikey, flick your tongue like that again," you whined, your fingers tangling in his fro, as you carefully taught him just how to please a woman, just because of the simple fact that helping him practice for the future wasn't so bad.
His fingers dug deep into the skin of your thighs, and yeah, he was desperate; it showed clearly through the way he let his mouth make out with your clit and the way he pulled you closer when you tried to push him away because your body decided the feeling was just far too much for you to handle.
And suddenly it took him back to one of those late nights when he'd thought about how it would be eating you out after not so accidentally looking at the pretty outline of your cunt against your shorts when you leaned over. And now he was actually doing it; it wasn't just a horny virgin's thought but something that was actually happening, and yeah, it felt wrong, but he couldn't help it.
“Am I doing good?” He spoke in between each long stride of his tongue, letting it swirl around your clit, the lewd wet sounds filling the room.
“God yes, you're doing so good." Your legs threatened to snap close only to be stopped by the fact that his large hand kept them from closing around him as your body jerked forward, back arching off the softness of the mattress, the sheets rustling heavily against your overheating body. That familiar feeling of sweet release washing over your body as your eyes squeezed shut, filling Michael's ears with your moans. The sound that Michael had been waiting so long to hear before they faded into heavy breathing.
“Thanks for helping me practice."
“Oh, yeah, yeah," you lazily spoke, still trying to get your eyes to focus properly on his sweet smile.
﹒ ୨୧◞ 。summary : well! congratufuckinglations to whoever got to bounce on it during bad era! (it’s you........ bitch.)
﹒ ୨୧◞ 。before you read : fem reader + pronouns, established relationship, famous!reader, lots of affection and kissing! mentions of babies and marriage, a teeny bit naughty at the very end, they use “patty cake” as a code word for sex. third person and told from an outsider’s view for a large portion of this!
﹒ ୨୧◞ 。author’s note : surprise! i’m back! i’m trying something new because I think it’s too freaking cute. no y/n or (name). instead, i’ll use (✿) in place of your name. we’ll see how I like it! enjoy! <3
Important people were packed into the same ballroom. From record executives drifting from table to table with drinks in hand to publicists keeping one eye on their clients and the other on the photographers lining the perimeter of the room. Somewhere near the front, a speaker stood behind a podium thanking sponsors who were already checking their watches—it was supposed to be an evening of networking and press photos. And really, it was a beautifully put together event, with round tables dressed in white linen and crystal glasses catching the lights overhead..
But neither of Michael or (✿) seemed.. particularly interested in why they’d been invited in the first place. Sometime throughout the evening, Michael turned his chair toward hers a bit, and it stayed there the rest of the night. His body naturally faced hers, one knee resting against hers beneath the table while his arm draped comfortably across the back of her chair. Anyone trying to get his attention usually had to wait until she finished talking first. Photographers and paparazzi were reminded more than once to keep their attention on the night’s speakers.
And they tried.
For maybe ten minutes before the cameras were back on the couple. It wasn’t an every day treat to see the two biggest entertainers in the world love up on each other like this.
She was forever finding little reasons to touch him, always finding something to do. She’d flatten the front of his jacket after he shifted in his seat, running her fingertips over his lapel checking that it was sitting properly. Every now and then she’d absentmindedly take hold of his tie, giving it the tiniest adjustment before smoothing it back against his shirt. She never interrupted herself, their conversation carried on the entire time with dainty hands working independently while her attention stayed on whatever she was telling him.
Michael didn’t tease her for the public displays of affection, he definitely didn’t stop her either. He just watched her, because he loved having her undivided attention. Sometimes he’d lower his head a little without thinking, making it easier for her to reach him. Or sometimes he’d smile before she’d even touched him because he’d already guessed what she was about to do. It was impossible to miss how happy and giddy he looked letting her fuss over him. The second she would pull her hands away, he found some excuse to bring them back, reaching for her wrist and lacing their fingers together.
Michael and (✿) were like.. obnoxiously happy together. A type of couple everyone swore they couldn’t stand until they spent five minutes around them and realized.. there wasn’t actually anything to dislike. They weren’t loud, or even really showing off. They were just.. relentlessly fond of each other. Every glance turned into a smile. And every one of those smiles turned into one reaching for the other’s hand. Conversations somehow ended with them giggling over something no one else had heard, and honestly? It probably wasn’t even that funny. It was enough to make people groan into their champagne before admitting, very reluctantly, that it was kind of adorable. “Congratufuckinglations!” and “That’s Mama y Papa!” type of thing. One would be absolutely gutted to find out a break up in the blogs because.. you really are supporting and rooting them.
Michael wore his sunglasses indoors, nothing new. She knew when he got around certain people he liked keeping them on but she loved his eyes and often got antsy when she couldn’t see them for too long, telling him he feels “far away” when he feels like this.
At one point her hand drifted toward his face. She slipped a finger beneath the bridge of his sunglasses and gently pushed them up.
Just a little.
She paused there, studying him for a few seconds with an expression somewhere between amusement and affection. Michael looked back, his eyes met hers without hesitation and before long that pretty, pretty smile spread across his face, slow enough that the photographers caught every stage of it. She smiled too, but it felt like it was almost to herself before she eased the sunglasses back into place with gentle hands, straightening them and giving the side of the frame the lightest tap with her fingertip.
Her hand lingered.
Instead of pulling away, it slipped behind his neck, disappearing beneath the curls resting against his collar. Her thumb settled against the warm skin at the nape of his neck and began slow, absent circles. Michael’s shoulders loosened and his head tipped ever so slightly toward her hand, and he stayed there, eyes still on her smiling through whatever story she’d started telling him.
At some point, her leg ended up draped across his. No one quite caught how.
One minute they were sitting side by side, listening with only half their attention as someone across the room addressed the crowd. The next, Michael had gently gathered her leg beneath the table and lifted it across both of his knees. It didn't seem to surprise her as she barely paused in the middle of whatever she was saying, simply shifting in her chair while he settled her leg across his lap with absentminded care.
She pointed toward one of her high heels, lifting her foot just enough to show him whatever had caught her attention. From where the cameras stood, it looked like she was complaining about something. The strap, maybe. The height. She spoke with animated little gestures, eyebrows pulling together in exaggerated frustration while Michael listened with the sort of patient expression he had for stories he’d already heard twice.
Then he chuckled—still smiling as he slipped one hand beneath her ankle, his thumb resting lightly against the inside of it while his fingers curled around the back of her heel. He turned her foot this way and that, inspecting it. Whatever conclusion he reached only seemed to amuse him more.
She gave him a look and her hand landed lightly against his forearm in what was very obviously an attempt to make him stop.
It had absolutely no effect because one thing about Michael, is he’s going to play—all day.
Instead, his thumb began tracing slow circles over the side of her ankle while he gently rolled her foot back and forth in his hand. His other hand drifted higher, smoothing absent strokes over the curve of her calf without a second thought, his fingertips barely grazing the fabric of her dress where it met her skin. He looked completely entertained by whatever she was saying, smiling at her with that familiar grin while she continued fussing, shaking her head and quietly swatting at his wrist again.
From across the room, it looked very much like she was scolding him. “Michael, stop it.”
From the expression on Michael's face, it looked like he intended to ignore every word of it.
He only smiled wider and she tried one last time, pointing toward her shoe again with an expression that suggested she was making an entirely different point than the one he’d decided to hear. Michael glanced dutifully at the heel for all of two seconds before his attention drifted right back to her. His hand never left her leg.
He leaned over in the middle of whatever she was saying, the thought had simply crossed his mind and he’d acted on it before it could disappear. His hand found the side of her face for only a second as he pressed a quick kiss against her lips.
It was over almost as soon as it began.
Except he never really left. He lingered just a few inches away, close enough that their noses nearly brushed. His smile had softened into something like be was endeared, his eyes dropping back to her lips because he’d gotten distracted halfway through pulling away. It looked like it seemed entirely possible he’d forgotten they were sitting in the middle of a ballroom filled with people.
Whatever she’d been talking about stopped mid sentence.
She looked back up at him with the tiniest pout, lips still pursed from the kiss, waiting expectantly because one kiss clearly hadn’t been enough. There was something almost impatient about it, like she’d been interrupted and fully intended on collecting what she believed she was owed before continuing her story.
Michael looked at her for another second then he leaned in again for another quick kiss, even shorter than the first.
She seemed satisfied this time, the corners of her mouth curling upward as she finally settled back into her chair. Before he could pull away completely, though, she caught his chin lightly between her fingers.
Her lip gloss had transferred onto him.
She glanced at his mouth, smiling to herself as the pad of her thumb gently wiped the shine from his bottom lip. Michael stayed perfectly still, letting her fuss over him with the same e endeared expression he’d worn all evening. When she finished, she gave his lip one last absentminded swipe, admiring her work for half a second before dropping her hand back into her lap.
After a couple more hours ballroom slowly emptied around them. Chairs scraped against polished floors, security began guiding guests toward the exits, and the crowd outside had already grown thick behind the barricades. Camera flashes bounced off the glass doors before they were even opened, the waiting photographers spotting familiar faces through the windows and shuffling into position.
Michael stepped out first and she followed a heartbeat later, their hands already intertwined. It was the sort of thing people expected from newly smitten couples, except they’d been together for about a year.
The shouting started immediately.
Questions overlapped until they became impossible to separate.
“Michael!”
“Over here!”
“You look beautiful, (✿) !”
“How was the event tonight?”
She glanced toward the voices first.
“It was lovely,” She answered with an easy smile, giving the crowd a little wave before looking back at Michael as they continued down the sidewalk. He was smiling too, offering a small nod with his sunglasses still sitting high on his nose despite the sun having disappeared hours earlier.
Another photographer called after them. “When are you two tying the knot?”
Oh!
The question caught both of them off guard and she laughed first feeling her cheeks and ear tips get warm. Michael immediately looked down shyly, and the reaction only made everyone around them laugh harder. It was the kind of question they had clearly heard before, but neither of them had mastered the art of pretending it didn’t affect them. She tucked a little closer to his side giggling, while Michael shook his head behind.
Then he looked at her, not fully but just a glance from over the top of his frames. That was enough.
She caught it and immediately smiled at him, because she knew exactly what that look meant. A quiet little check in—a private ESP shared between them before either of them acknowledged anyone else.
“We’re.. enjoying each other’s company right now.” More shouting followed before she’d even finished speaking.
Michael barely heard any of it; the cameras, the questions, the security guards urging them toward the waiting car.
It all blurred together the second she looked at him.
He spent the entire evening watching people watch them, and somehow she still managed to make him feel like there wasn’t another person in the room.
She always answered questions like that with the same diplomacy, never sounding flustered, never embarrassed, never trying to turn their relationship into a spectacle. She gave people enough to satisfy them, then quietly closed the door before anyone could step inside. He admired that about her. More than admired it. He relied on it.
She squeezed his hand once as they walked.
He squeezed back.
Without thinking, his thumb found the side of her hand, tracing the same slow path it always did whenever they walked together. It had become such a habit that he doubted either of them noticed anymore.
He looked down at their hands for a second and back at her. She was still smiling to herself. He wondered if she’d realized she’d called them “each other’s company.”
The words echoed around in his head with ridiculous persistence.
Each other’s.
It sounded.. nice. His smile crept back before he could stop it.
She caught it. “What?”
He only shook his head.
Nothing. He just liked the way she’d said it.
The ride back to their hotel passed in comfortable silence.
Every so often she’d catch him looking at her and smile to herself, smoothing a thumb over the back of his hand where it rested between them. He’d answer by bringing her knuckles to his lips for the quickest kiss before setting her hand back down again, he also couldn’t seem to go more than a few minutes without finding a reason to touch her.
By the time they reached the hotel, the suite was quiet.
She slipped off her heels the moment they stepped inside, leaving them abandoned beside the entryway with a relieved sigh. Michael laughed under his breath as he loosened his bow tie, setting his sunglasses on the coffee table.
He settled onto the couch, shoulders finally relaxing against the cushions, only for her to wander over a moment later with a glass of red wine in one hand.
She climbed onto the couch and settled across his lap, one knee rested on either side of him and her dress spilled over his legs while she balanced her wine glass carefully in one hand. Her free hand found his face almost immediately, fingertips traced the edge of his jaw.
Slowly. Back and forth.
He tilted into her touch without thinking.
She turned the stem slowly between her manicured fingertips while Michael continued looking at her with the same dazed and smitten look he hadn’t managed to shake all evening.
“You want some?” She asked.
Instead of reaching for the glass, he leaned forward.
Tilting the glass carefully, she brought the rim to his lips. Michael took a small sip, never taking his eyes off her as the wine touched his mouth. She steadied the glass until he leaned back again, swallowing before the corners of his mouth lifted.
“Yummy?”
He nodded once.
She was already lowering the glass when his hand settled lightly around her wrist, stopping her just long enough for him to lean in.
Their lips met again.
The kiss was slow and lazy. She smiled into it, her free hand sliding back to his jaw while he tipped his face toward hers. There was still the faint taste of red wine between them, sweet and warm, lingering just enough for her to recognize it before she kissed him again.
When they finally separated, they stayed close, noses brushing.Outside, the city hummed beneath their windows.
“..What are you thinking about, Bambi?” She asked quietly.
Michael’s eyes stayed on hers for another moment before drifting down to the stem of her wine glass, then back again.
“Oh, I dunno..” He blushed, embarrassed by the thought now that he had to say it out loud. “Could you see yourself marrying me, really?”
She stared at him for a second then giggled, he’d managed to ask the question with the same shy clumsy he’d had when he first asked her to be exclusive and official with him.
Her hand slid into his curls at the nape of his neck.
She leaned down and kissed him. It was unhurried, warm, lingering just long enough to make him forget he’d asked anything at all.
When she finally pulled back, their foreheads stayed close.
“Michael, I’ve been hoping you even consider me to be wife material..” She murmured.
“You have?”
She laughed again, this time unable to stop herself, brushing her thumb across his cheek as his grin slowly spread from one corner of his mouth to the other. “Of course.. there’s no one else who understands me the way you do. And I want to be someone you feel safe enough to marry..”
He looked completely delighted. “And babies?”
“As many as you want..” She pecked his lips. “Should we.. get in some practice tonight? Prepare for the real thing..”
“You’re bein’ dirty.” Michael responds, though his body is already reacting to her words feeling the blood start to pump directly into his shaft.
“Am I?” Her hands slide down his chest as she tilted her head at him, fingers fidgeting with his belt to unbuckle it. “I thought you liked playing patty cake with me.”
“You always win..” A half complaint wrapped in affection because yeah: every time they played together.. she ended up steering things exactly where she wanted.
Summary: your boyfriend teaches you about eye contact, and something you’re a little… inexperienced in.
♡ warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, light smut, dry humping, pet names (puppy, sweetheart, darling), inexperienced!user, cumming in underwear, light slapping, condescending bf <3, guiding, talking you through it, age gap, older!bf, no mentions of y/n, reader-insert.
wc: 1.8k | : this is 2 lovelyyy requests combined!! enjoy <3
It never seemed to happen: the eye contact.
Your boyfriend noticed it all the time: sitting at dinner, your eyes mostly on your food instead of him across the table, when he’d just be speaking to you, and you’d be gazing at his feet, or constantly looking up at the sky. Or when you’re pressed against the bed, your hair fanned out behind your head, and all he can see is those eyelids, closed and fluttering open, never those pretty eyes.
You’re sitting on the couch, television flicked on, the soft hum of a thunderstorm looming in the distance. His arm is wrapped around your shoulder, a stray thumb brushing over where the strap of your tank top dips, and he looks at you. Your eyes are on the movie playing, and he clicks his tongue, catching your attention.
“Hm?” You mumble softly, glancing at him, immediately looking away when you realize he’s already looking at you. Those sharp eyes are too much.
“Baby,” he drawls, his hand sliding up from your shoulder, lightly grabbing your cheeks. “Look at me.”
He pinches your cheeks and forces you to look at him, and he immediately grins when he notices the hesitant glint in your eye; awkward and unsettled, you shut your eyes and look into your lap and your thighs, shifting against the couch.
“What?” You mumble quietly, and you look up at him again, and he’s still looking at you.
“Let me see your pretty eyes,” he says, forcing you to look at him again. “Don’t like lookin’ at your face when your eyes are wanderin’ all over the place, baby.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper to him, swallowing hard as you try to keep your gaze on him, but he’s so intimidating, and you’re practically squirming against the couch.
It’s hard to look at him—he’s so attractive, it’s painful. His eyebrows that furrow when you say things, or the way you can easily see his pupils widen when he takes you in, or the way they darken when you’ve done something wrong or have turned him on. They truly are the windows to the soul, and it feels like he’s looking to yours, not his.
“Don’t gotta be sorry, sweetheart,” he shakes his head, his thumb rubbing by the corner of your mouth. “We’ve just been datin’ for a month or two, and you still can’t look me in the damn eye.”
Your relationship was ‘fresh’; mostly normal sex, and occasional blowjobs where he has to guide you through the whole thing, and during it, your eyes are looking everywhere but him. It’s hard for him not to reach down and pinch your cheeks, calling you the most inexperienced thing he’s met. You are, but he won’t tell you that.
It’s sweet; he finds it. How shy you are around him, how his hands brushing your waist and hips make you squirm and whimper, or how when his eyes meet yours, you immediately look away and occupy yourself with something else. Yeah, he’s your first boyfriend, and it’s damn obvious.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble again, but it bit leeds into a frustrated whine, and you shift away from him a little, tipping it against the couch. “I’m just… embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed? Over what, darlin’?” He asks you, moving a little closer, pushing your hair back and away from your neck and shoulders. “I’ve seen you naked from head to toe; there’s not much to be embarrassed about.”
He notices the small smile curling into your lips, and the way you look away from the television to blush into your lap at his words shyly. He’s quick with them, and that’s why you can’t make eye contact with the son of a bifch.
“I’m so… inexperienced, and humiliating, and I don’t know anything! I know that you know everything, and you’ve had girlfriends. A wife —and that’s okay… but I never have had a boyfriend or anything—nobody taught me any of this, and it’s overwhelming, and I can’t look at you. You’re my boyfriend,” you ramble on, a sudden blurb of emotions that has him raising his eyebrows, his lips parting in surprise at the confession.
You were right, and you both knew it; he was an experienced man, got around when clubs were booming, lousy hookups in bathrooms and at motels, a few girlfriends in high school and college, and then a wife he later divorced. He knew the ropes of intimacy, and you were still trying to normalize him smacking your ass when you were doing the dishes.
“Sweetheart,” he practically laughs out, smiling with that condescending curl of his lips, reaching out to grab your body. “You’re so fuckin’ cute,” he mumbles, immediately pulling you into a kiss.
You’re still not used to this either; making out and all of the touching that came with it, especially with how he’s laying you back against the cushions now, naturally sliding your thighs apart, wedging his body between them. He’s still kissing you, letting his lips move against yours, a slow rhythm in the darkened room.
And then you feel an unfamiliar feeling; his hips grind down, pushing right between your thighs, a slow rock that has your head tipping back, and breaking the kiss. He noticed the look on your face; confusion and clear arousal, and he pauses.
“Hey… look at me, baby,” he whispers, sliding a hand up to grab your face again, maintaining that eye contact that he was going to teach you about. “You okay?”
“I…” you mumble, shaking your head a little, glancing between your bodies. “You were… doing something.”
“Grindin’?” He asks with a raise of his eyebrows, licking his lips. “I was grindin’ against you, sweetheart.”
“I… I don’t know how,” you whisper and shake your head again, swallowing hard when you notice that cocky grin curling into his lips.
“That’s okay,” he tells you, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Let me teach you everythin’,” he whispers, pulling his face back from you.
He lightly pulls away from you, positioning a hand at your hips, keeping you pressed against the couch, and the other one lightly finds your jaw, forcing you to look at him. It’s like he’s a teacher right now; eye contact and dry humping.
“It feels good, yeah?” He asks quietly, tilting his head to the side. “You just gotta move your hips, baby, find the rhythm,” he reassures you, and he lightly bucks into you.
You whine and tip your head back, the friction making you dizzy, and he harshly grabs your head, forcing you to look at him. He keeps his eyes on you, forcing yours to gaze into his.
“Sweetheart, move your little hips,” he encourages, gripping one side with one hand. “Just lil’ lifts for me, nothin’ crazy, just enough for my hips to meet yours, okay?” He guides, nodding.
He leans down and presses a kiss against your cheek, lightly pulling back so you can practice eye contact at the same time. Your noses brush, and he pushes down in between your thighs again, his groin meeting yours, and you watch your eyes flicker.
“See? I’m movin’ back and forth, baby… just slow movements, you gotta do the same, doll, it’ll make you feel real good,” he reminds you, tapping your hipbone with his thumb.
As he grinds a bit more, you try to—hesitant shifts, awkward rolls, and he’s smiling, gently kissing your lips occasionally, letting your eyes remain on each other.
“Look at you,” he coos, nodding. “Holdin’ eye contact, ruttin’ on my thigh like my lil’ puppy,” he teases, and you break the eye contact.
There it is, a light slap against your cheek when you look away, and he smiles when you look back at him; all wide-eyed, your lips curled into a pout, and he’s still lightly grinning against you, rocking his hips into yours.
“There we go, baby,” he murmurs, nodding when your eyes gaze into each other’s. “Keep lookin’ at me, keep your eyes on me, sweetheart…”
You nod a little and keep up the hesitant grind of your hips, pairing it up with the innocent look into his eyes. It feels good, of course it does; his bulge pushing into your sleep shorts, creating a friction that only builds intensity rather than satiates it, making the moment a bit more tense, and groans, nodding.
“Perfect hips,” he mumbles, taking a glance down between your bodies. “Movin’ em’ well, don’t stop, puppy,” he whispers, watching your lower lip tremble.
The two of you move together, that simple grind being enough for you to whimper and whine, and for him to lightly groan, all while your eyes pour into each other, keeping a steady focus. You’re both melting into the couch cushions, and he’s hiding you.
“Bein’ a good lil’ thing for me,” he praises, kissing below your eye. “All obedient, my toy…” he whispers, nudging his nose against your face, keeping you close; that eye contact remains.
Your eyes stay on his, and he notices the light flutter and the twitch of your eyebrows, and he’s almost dumbfounded. That’s the face you make when you’re close, when your body is preparing to finish, and his lips part.
“Puppy gonna make a mess in her shorts?” He teases, gazing at you. “Gonna cum in your underwear?” He eggs you on, keeping up that light grind.
“Uh huh… mhm,” you babble, biting your lip, whimpering behind your mouth, and your eyes flutter, trying hard to keep that eye contact.
“Good girl, that’s my girl,” he whispers, letting your hips move back and forth. “Cum, sweetheart… want you to cum in your shorts,” he tells you, leaning into you to lightly kiss your lips again.
And you do finish, all in your shorts, a sticky mess that spills out and into the cotton. Your head tips back and you break eye contact, and he grins, still grinding into you, eager to feel that wet spot against the front of your underwear, right where he’s grinding into you.
“Atta pup,” he mumbles, leaning down to kiss you by your jaw, nudging his nose there, feeling the shift in the temperature on your skin; warm and sweaty, all flushed from when you finished, still trembling and lax, and somehow tense.
“It’s all messy, yeah? Made a mess, sweetheart?” He taunts a bit more, wanting you a bit more embarrassed. “Look me in my eye, sweetheart, tell me that you made a mess,” he encourages.
“I… I made a mess,” you mumble softly, gazing into his eyes, and he’s smiling, nodding.
“There you go,” he whispers, kissing your cheek again. “Now, how about we practice when I’m inside of you, yeah?”
You were laying facing him, having gone to bed with you snuggling into the warm skin of his bare, back.
Michael always woke up before you. His body was stiff from sleeping in the same position all night long, careful not to disturb you. He gently untangled his long limbs from yours, shifting his body to face you.
And oh, God.
When you shifted, the thin strap of your silk camisole slipped down, and your right breast fell free from the fabric, your brown nipple already hard from the morning chill.
He really felt like he had no choice. You were his sweet, gorgeous best friend—the one woman on earth who could make his body ache and his dick rock hard within a matter of two seconds.
He shifted his weight down a little bit, his dark eyes darkening further as he hovered over you. He ran the pad of his thumb directly across your hard, sensitive bud, glancing up through his lashes to see if you were awake.
When he saw you were still fast asleep, your breathing even and deep, his mind raced. His heavy cock twitched inside his white cotton boxers.
He ducked his head down, flicking his pink tongue right along your peak, a soft, pathetic whine catching in the back of his throat at the rich taste of you. He had dreamed about this for years.
His big, dark eyes flickered back up to your face, checking again. Your lips were parted just a little bit, looking so innocent.
His chest felt entirely too warm, his stomach aching with need. He knew he really shouldn’t be doing this to his best friend—the one line he swore he wouldn't cross when you two were just hanging out, watching movies and eating takeout. But you hadn’t ever let him touch you like this in all those years of friendship, and the temptation was eating him alive.
His lips gently enclosed around your nipple, drawing you in. His eyes almost rolled back into his head from how hot and good it felt.
He hadn’t even noticed that his right hand had drifted down, gently palming his heavy length right through the cotton of his boxers as he sucked your hard peak.
Your body shifted slightly, your torso rolling more onto your back as you continued to sleep, completely unaware your best friend was greedily devouring your exposed flesh.
He was already dangerously close, and he had barely even started. His tip was leaking pre-cum, wetting the fabric of his underwear, his hand frantically stroking himself while he gazed up at your pretty face.
His breathing was shaky and ragged. He was almost terrified of what would happen if you were to wake up right now, of how he would ever explain himself to you without losing you.
“Mmh…” he whimpered softly against your skin.
And then, as if sensing his desperation, you unconsciously arched your back up more into his mouth, chasing the friction.
Michael’s cock twitched violently, his entire body trembling. He spurted hot semen into his boxers, biting down on his lower lip to swallow a loud, breathy moan right around your peak.
Reluctantly, chest heaving, he pulled away. He stared down at your dark nipple, now glistening slickly with his saliva. Fuck, he didn’t know how much more of this secret torture he could take.
With shaky hands, he slipped out of his king-sized bed and practically scrambled into the bathroom to clean himself up.
By the time he came back out, looking flushed and trying desperately to act casual, you were stretching your arms over your head and rubbing your sleepy eyes.
“Good mornin’, Mike,” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.
He stood by the edge of the bed, offering a breathless, nervous little smile as he looked down at you.
“G’morning, Angel,” he whispered, his heart still hammering against his ribs.
Summary: Your boyfriend is too needy when he comes from work. Way too needy.
♡ warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, older!bf, smut, oral sex (f!receiving), explicit pictures, jerking off, ur bf cums in his pants, desperate boyfriend, underwear stealing, no mentions of y/n, reader insert.
wc: 986 | the teeniest drabble ever... i just had to get it out of my system. so badly. trust me... the 10k word fic is tomorrow hehehe i am sooo excited to post it i love u al!!
You were in the kitchen when he returned home from work, the screen door softly shutting, and you glanced over your shoulder at him; tired eyes, heavy, an exhausted look on his face that made your eyes soften the second you saw it.
He was a hardworking man, always doing everything he could to provide for you. He worked day and night, whatever shifts he could, all so you could lounge around all day and wait for his inevitable turn. He loved it, but god was he ever tired and fucking needy.
You were an asshole in the way. You’d send him pictures of yourself while he was working; your shirt slipping off your shoulder in a photo, your cleavage a bit too pushed up and in the frame, and he’d find himself sitting at work, pressing the heel of his palm into his denim jeans to soothe the sudden ache.
The need and want bled into desperation.
Most nights he got home late, and you’d be sound asleep in bed, and god, he could not wake you up when you looked like that. Your eyes shut and your lips pouty, and every instinct told him to go over to that bad, and force his cock into that mouth. He resisted the urge, and mindlessly jerked off in the bathroom, usually into your underwear, his eyes fixated on the simple selfie you snapped for him to see at work.
He had gotten off early tonight, and he knew you’d be awake, all showered and in a nightgown, your skin smooth, smelling like vanilla. He was hard already, even as he pulled into the driveway. His entire body was aching for you, and all he wanted to do was relieve it.
“Hi,” you say softly, your eyes focused on the dishes you’re washing, hearing the sound of his boots against the tile floor, and you know he’s coming into the kitchen.
Your eyes widen the minute he pushes you against the sink, your hips hitting the edge that you grip onto, and his face is buried in your neck, inhaling. He feels like a wild animal right now, all senses and instinct flooding his body. He growls.
“Baby…” he mumbles lowly, his hands already gripping your small gown, hiking it up. “Need you… need so bad, please,” he whispers, and you’re too in shock to even respond to him. You just hesitantly nod.
It’s not what you expected, not at all.
He lowers himself onto the ground, right onto his knees, and he turns you around. Your eyes widen the second his head dips under the hem of your dress, and he’s urgently kissing your thighs, tongue dragging along the soft plush, and you’re tipping your head back in awe and surprise.
“Oh, my gosh,” you breathe out, one hand holding the edge of the counter, and you feel your knees buckling. “What’s… what—“ you mumble, glancing down.
Your boyfriend is on his knees for you, whining quietly against your thighs, nudging his nose against your clit, his hands forcibly parting your legs, and he’s just inhaling.
“Didn’t even wear underwear… for me, yeah? You’re all for me, baby,” he groans out and instantly starts; his tongue sliding out, lips moving against you.
Right there, in the kitchen, while you’re standing.
Your boyfriend moves his lips against you; mouthing and sucking, his tongue coming out to lick a long stripe between your folds, lapping up the wetness that had gotten slick throughout the day. He’s focusing on your clit, his nose nudging against you, all strong and hard, and you whine softly, shaking your head.
“Taste so fuckin’ good… so good, sweetheart,” he groans into you, his deep voice vibrating through your body. “Been thinkin’ about this for weeks… this body, tastin’ you,” he explains, going back to work.
You’re standing on your tiptoes, and he’s pulling you back down, forcing you onto his mouth. He’s going as quickly as possible, all focus on your clit again, knowing how sensitive it gets; tender and raw, and he just sucks, and sucks, his lips pressed against it, tongue poking and prodding, all while he keeps your thighs apart.
He’s still in his work uniform, shoelaces still tied, his beard brushing your inner thighs, and you’re just mewling, abandoning the dishes in the dirty sink water. He’s even moaning, groaning, all against your, feverishly moving his lips against you, as his entire fucking life depends on it.
He's been going to bed the past week with this thought in his head, eating you out. He didn’t expect it to be that overwhelming when he saw you casually standing there in a nightgown and damp hair, but it was, and every animalistic urge told him just to take. And he listened.
He’s devouring you on this kitchen floor, hands groping your body, groaning against your core, the vibrations making your toes curl into the tile. You’re whining and shaking your head, getting closer, and he’s getting closer.
“Oh, baby,” he groans against you, forcing his tongue into you and your head tips back in awe; his tongue flicking and moving, perfect swirls in twists that have your back arching, your knuckles turning white before one hand slides into his hair. You tug.
The tug does it all; he spills into his jeans, all into his underwear. A sticky, warm mess, just because of his mouth on you and the sounds you’re making, and he’s never been more ashamed of himself—but then you cum, all over his mouth, onto his tongue and glistening into his scruff.
His own hand reaches down to press against where he just finished, and he’s moaning, letting you ride out the orgasm on his tongue. He’s mumbling soft ‘thankyous', his eyes closed as he devours, even when you’re finished, and your thighs are damp, and the poor son of a bitch just came in his pants.
“You and Michael had just started being intimate and it was mostly in missionary where Michael stayed pressed chest to chest with you and couldn’t stop kissing you.
He loved being able to see your pretty face and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
That is— until now.”
SYNOPSIS: Michael overhears his brothers having locker room talk about hitting it from the back and he just happens to have a very curvy, pretty girlfriend.
CONTENT: fluff, smut, 18+, unprotected sex, descriptions of female anatomy, overstimulation, oral, pre thriller!Michael but post OTW, era 1980
Late Sunday evening had settled over the Hayvenhurst estate and the scent of fried chicken, collard greens, mac & cheese, and cornbread was still wafting through the home.
Some new variety show played quietly on the television in the background, but it was drowned out by the Jackson brothers’ loud voices overlapping. They were lounging around after dinner and someone had brought out the good whiskey.
At the edge of the couch sat Michael, halfway listening and picking at a loose string on his sleeve. He was mostly quiet like he always was when this kind of talk came up.
Whenever his brothers started having locker room conversations he stayed out of it.
His private life— especially anything in relativity to you— stayed close to the vest.
Tito leaned back in the leather armchair nursing his second glass of the night. He was grinning wide, saying “I’m tellin’ you man, hittin’ it from the back changed the game for me. You get that angle right, put her face down, ass up… she gon’ lose her mind. A whole different kind of cryin’.”
At this, Michael’s head snapped up.
The word cryin’ had piqued his interest.
Heat began spreading across the back of his neck as he listened closer. Jermaine jumped in and nudged Tito with his elbow. He looked over his shoulder before speaking to make sure none of the ladies were about to wander into the room.
The guys’ wives were currently having their own chat, still sat around the dining table drinking wine.
Once the coast was clear, he added “Especially if you know how to find that lil’ spot deep inside that makes her legs shake and her voice get all high and whiny like she can’t talk straight.” He pointed at Tito smirking, “And if you add a pillow under her hips and hit it just right, she gon’ love you forever.”
Michael gulped audibly. His fingers were now frozen in place. Tito heard it and grinned even bigger.
“What Mike? You and your girl ain’t never tried it?”
Michael shook his head and rolled his eyes, “You guys can be such pigs”. He mumbled while avoiding eye contact.
Truthfully, no, you guys hadn’t.
You and Michael had just started being intimate and it was mostly in missionary where Michael stayed pressed chest to chest with you and couldn’t stop kissing you.
He loved being able to see your pretty face and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
That is— until now.
Tito didn’t let up. “Mike, with the body that girl got, man? You playin’, right? The way her ass sits? You still doin' it missionary like a church boy?”
The brothers chuckled together in that loud and playful way they always did.
Michael cut his eyes as Tito. He felt defensiveness bubble to the surface quickly, sharp and protective.
This wasn’t new. His brothers had been on him for months now ever since you started coming around. You were real thick, and fine as hell. A real brown skin beauty. This was a synonymous agreement amongst them all.
Every time you came over, he caught them doing low whistles or elbowing each other when they thought he wasn’t looking.
“Damn Mike… you got all that and you still playin’ it safe? Couldn’t be me.” They’d say once you were out of earshot, shaking their heads.
They weren’t wrong, you were fine as hell, and he had definitely been playing it safe. But you were his girl, and therefore his business.
“Don’t talk about her like that.” He said, voice low and firm. “That’s my girl and y’all need to mind your own business, quit sayin’ all that stuff about her body. Keep it to yourself.”
Jermaine and Jackie oooh’d in high pitched voices before sipping their drinks, staying out of it.
Everyone knew how Michael got when it came to you.
Out of all the brothers he was the most sensitive, romantic, and emotionally attached when it came to women. And to make things more intense, you were his first.
First real girlfriend, first girl he’d ever invited over— and more recently, to spend the night. You were the first person he’d ever been intimate with.
To Michael that was sacred. He was a bit of a late bloomer, and you thought it was adorable.
You loved being able to experience new things with him. Honestly, you had him wrapped right around your finger. If you asked him to pluck the stars out the sky one by one, he would.
Tito held his hands up in surrender, still laughing. “Aight, aight. We ain’t mean no harm, but for real Mike. You still got a lot to learn, and that’s a good thing. Means you get to figure it out with her, make her feel brand new every time.” Then he winked and took another drink from his glass.
“Whatever, Tito” he rolled his eyes.
Michael was mostly quiet for the rest of the night, but the words stuck with him, sparking a lightbulb in his head.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Later that same week you stopped by the house to drop off something for Michael. He was upstairs changing and had asked Tito and Jermaine to keep an ear out for the door because he was expecting you.
You were rounding the corner when you overheard Tito’s voice, real low.
“Damn, she fine as hell. Hips that’ll make a grown man drool like a baby. Her body is crazy man. And Mike still playin', doin’ it like its 1965.”
He and Jermaine chuckled together and then Jermaine replied, “Mike don’t know what to do with all that. She probably makin’ that boy forget his own name.”
You stepped into the doorway as if you hadn’t heard anything, smile sweet and eyes soft. “What y’all doin’?” Immediately, the energy changed. Tito sat up straighter and his grin turned warm and respectful.
“Hey sweetheart. You lookin’ pretty today.” Jermaine nodded in agreement with a sweet voice.
“How you doin’ baby girl? Go on up, Mike’s waitin’ on you”
Thanking them you turned and headed up the long winding staircase, smirking to yourself.
You weren’t visually impaired; you knew exactly what kind of body you had and the effect it had on men.
But as for Michael’s brothers? Out of respect, they would never dare say anything of the sort to your face.
You had skin-tight bell bottom jeans on that accentuated your curvy figure, and the top you had on revealed a peek-a-boo of cocoa skin at the small of your back. You made sure to roll your hips extra hard as you trailed up the stairs to your man.
Both brothers’ eyes followed the sway of your hips and the full, heart-shaped curve of your ass as you walked away.
Once you were out of earshot, Jermaine and Tito gave each other a knowing look. Tito let out a low appreciate whistle under his breath.
Jermaine shook his head and walked away, “I’m tellin’ you man, Mike don’t know what to do with all that.”.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
That same day Michael found himself at the library. He asked Bill to drop him off for a while so he could do some research on a new dance style he was trying.
But truthfully? He was trying to figure out what to do with all that.
He walked into the library with his hoodie pulled low over his curls and large sunglasses covering most of his face. When he got to the help desk he asked the librarian for books on female anatomy. Specifically medical ones— the kind with diagrams.
Once the package was secure Michael made his way to the back of the library to a corner that seemed quiet enough and settled down at a table. His heart was thumping so hard he thought he could feel it in his throat.
Michael took one more look around before he cracked the book and began scrolling through its pages. His face felt hot when his eyes finally landed on the diagram he’d been looking for.
The description of the sensitive bundle of nerves made everything his brothers were saying click. He scanned the page slowly to make sure he understood.
How pressure there could make everything clench and flutter and cry. The idea that touching you a certain way and a certain angle could pull that kind of reaction from you felt like a new language to Michael.
One that he was desperate to speak.
He flipped the page and when he saw the illustration on it of the anterior vaginal wall he gasped softly and nearly dropped the book.
His fingers fumbled as he quickly shut it, suddenly embarrassed at the idea that someone might come near. Quickly Michael decided that he needed a private place to study.
The only thing was, when he went to stand to leave, he finally noticed the not-so subtle tent that had formed in his pants as he was reading.
So, he sat there for a long minute, fumbling with the book and breathing through it while his ears burned hot with embarrassment.
Once he had contained himself enough he tucked the book under his arm and checked it out at the front desk with his head down like he was hiding something sacred.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
The next afternoon Michael thought he was alone.
He had his book open— and fairly close to his face due to how intrigued he was.
The house was quiet which was a rarity. He was just getting to the good part about applying rhythmic pressure and circling the spot when he heard footsteps coming toward him.
Immediately he looked up. Tito walked in and locked eyes with Michael. But before he could speak or greet him, he saw the look that flickered across his face.
It was the same look Michael would get as a little boy whenever he got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. The same look he had seen on his face when Michael was 10 and snatched one of his older brother’s magazines, being nosey of course.
Unfortunately for him, he didn’t realize he was looking down at a Playboy until Tito called out, “Mike, they filmin’ you”. Instantly he had dropped the magazine like it was on fire. Just like he did the book in his hands now.
Michael felt like he was in one of those old ninja movies. The ones where the screen splits in half and the camera closes in on both their eyes. He knew he was caught. Michael’s fingers tightened around the book on instinct, but it was already too late. He had maybe 5 seconds to react and he knew it.
Tito’s lips curved into a knowing smirk, and before Michael could even move Tito quickly crossed the room in 3 strides and snatched the book from him. “What you got here, Mike?” Michael’s eyes went huge.
“Give it back, man—” But Tito was already teasing and holding the book out of his reach. He started flipping pages and reading aloud in a sultry voice, teasing Michael.
“To stimulate the G-spot, apply firm, rhythmic pressure to the anterior vaginal wall approximately two inches inside… combine with clitoral stimulation for maximum effect…” Tito hooted in amusement. “Aw man, we got Mikey studyin’! Look at this — diagrams and everything. Lil’ man out here doing homework for his girl!”
Jackie and Jermaine heard the commotion from the other room and came in to be nosey. Tito kept going, his voice getting higher as his amusement grew.
“The tissue may swell and become more sensitive with continued stimulation…” He looked away from the book to his little brother “You really got sticky notes in the margins with notes Mike? I’m proud of you man, finally learnin’ how to handle all that fine ass your girl got”.
Michael’s face was on fire. He reached for the book, voice sharp with embarrassment and a little bit of attitude even though he knew it was just teasing. “Give it back Tito, don’t! I’m serious, that ain’t funny.”
Tito held the book out of reach still chuckling then acted like he was gonna hand it over. He extended the book to Michael, but when he reached for it— he yanked it back at the last second still giggling to himself at Michael’s diligence.
“You sure you ready for all this knowledge?” He laughed harder when Michael glared at him hard. “Aight, happy studying then.”
Michael snatched the book back, grumbling “You guys are so dumb” under his breath as he stormed off to his room. A chorus of his older brothers’ warm teasing followed him all the way there.
Yeah they were clowning him, but they were happy he was stepping up.
Later that night when things were actually quiet and it was safe, Michael stayed up late with the book open on his bed.
He kept re-reading the section on angle and pressure. He felt flustered from how explicit the instructions were, but he was determined to do right by his woman.
At one point, he even grabbed a pillow and slipped it under his hips to practice the slow rolling motion the book described. Of course, with his face buried in his arm because he felt ridiculous—and horny— at the same time.
He kept thinking about you. How pretty you sounded when you came for him, and about how he wanted to make you cry the good kind of tears.
When you came over the next day Michael caught himself watching the way your hips swayed when you walked and how full your ass looked in the jeans you wore.
His eyes lingered for longer than they usually did, but he quickly looked away when you turned over your shoulder to ask him something. He wasn’t usually like that…vulgar.
He appreciated your body and loved every inch of it but researching this new information had him feeling bashful, anxious, and eager all at once.
Still, he simply tucked his hands in his pockets and tried to act normal. The image stayed with him all day though.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
That weekend the Jackson family left for New York City to celebrate Janet. She had just landed a guest star role on the show Diff’rent Strokes and was over the moon about it. It was one of the most popular shows on television.
Katherine had suggested that the family fly out to watch her first few days on set because Jan's nerves were high. If there was one thing the Jacksons were gonna do, it was pull together for one of their own.
Everyone was going, except Michael. He declined claiming that he had some new music he had to get out, so he needed to be near his studio.
And everyone knew how Michael was when it came to getting his ideas out in a timely manner. “We know, we know Mike” Marlon had said on his way out. “You gotta get it out now or God’s gonna give the idea to Prince.” He rolled his eyes dramatically before closing the door behind him.
Michael sighed contently, a large smile taking over his features.
Finally.
He did have music he wanted to work on, butttt that’s not why he declined to go.
This was the best time for him to put his knowledge to the test without fear of anyone overhearing or interrupting. Michael headed down to the kitchen immediately.
He knew exactly whose help he needed. “Hey Ms. Nancy” Michael leaned up against the kitchen counter unsuspectingly, peering over the older women’s shoulder as she stirred something that smelled delicious in a large pot.
Nancy hadn’t heard Michael enter the room but she turned around smiling a smile that reached her eyes. “Hey baby, what you still doin’ here? Not goin’ to celebrate Jan?” Michael shook his head and his curls fell across his forehead as he did so.
“No ma’am. I had some things I needed to get done back here… Can I ask you a favor?”
She looked over at Michael again and raised an eyebrow. “I’m not making vegan lasagna again, Michael. That cheese is just nasty.” she screwed up her nose at the thought. Michael laughed hard at the memory of the watery lasagana.
“No, no. I promise I’ll never ask you to do that again. I was just wonderin’… I wanna have my girl come over tonight for a little date. Before you leave for the day, do you think you could whip us up somethin’?”
She smiled knowingly to herself as she focused on attending to the pot. “Oh you had some extra work to do, huh? You ain’t got to lie to Ms. Nancy, baby. I was young once.” Michael’s face felt hot and his eyes widened. He covered his face and nervous giggles escaped him.
“It’s not like that Ms. Nancy! Just gonna spend some time now that it’s quiet, that’s all.”
“Mhm, alright now.” She gave him a look that clearly said “you can’t fool me honey, you ain’t slick. I’ve known the game longer than you’ve been alive.”
“Whatcha want me to make baby? She loved that honey butter cornbread last time, I ended up sending some home with her.”
Michael’s stomach rumbled and he nodded in agreement. “That would be perfect. And can you make that one dish with the smothered chicken and rice that she likes?”
“I got you. Want me to leave the stove on low so it can stay warm?”
“Yes please, you’re the best” Michael pressed a sweet kiss to Ms. Nancy’s cheek and thanked her before turning and heading out of the kitchen. “Tell Mr. Greg I said hello” He yelled over his shoulder as he headed off to his next destination.
“I will baby.” She called back.
Everything was coming together.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Later that evening, Michael had asked Bill to pick you up to bring you over. You told him you could drive but he insisted on waiting on you hand and foot.
You were so confused when you got to the estate and there was no one playing basketball outside. No music drifting through the windows. It looked empty.
You almost asked Bill if he was sure Michael was home before he stepped out of the front door.
He stood waiting patiently, a shy sweet smile on his face as he waited for Bill to park. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.
“Mikey?” You looked around suspiciously as he opened your door for you. Instantly, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest.
“Hi baby. It’s so good to see you, how was the ride over?” He looked you over as if he hadn’t seen you in days before pressing a soft lingering kiss to your lips.
“It was fine Mikey, where is everybody? Why is it so quiet, is everything okay?”
You were getting concerned now. Hayvenhurst was never this empty. Michael let out a breathy laugh and nodded.
“They all went to New York. Went to see Jan. She had some stuff she was working on and mother wanted the whole family there.” He paused but his doe eyes stayed on you. “I stayed behind 'cause I wanna be with you.”
You were flattered but didn’t ask him to elaborate further. No way were you gonna complain about finally getting alone time with your man in his mansion.
He took your hand in his large one and led you toward the house, thanking Bill and saying goodbye. “I asked Ms. Nancy to make dinner” He said looking over at you shyly. “Wanna wash up first? It’s ready whenever you are.”
Now you raised your eyebrows. Not because Michael wasn’t usually thoughtful, he always was. Sometimes too much and to his own detriment. But, this evening suddenly started to feel special in a way you couldn’t pinpoint.
“For meee?” Playfully you raised a hand to your chest in a flattered way.
“You’re so cute. Yes, silly. Of course, for you. Always for you.” His gaze held yours a little longer now, lips curved in an adorable boyish smile.
“What she make?” You asked. He scratched the back of his neck bashfully.
“Smothered chicken, yellow rice, cheesy broccoli, and cornbread.” Your whole face lit up before you could hide it.
“Mike, you know that’s my favorite!” You were already smiling big. Michael’s expression softened and admiration glazed over his features.
He was always enamored by how small things made you so happy. He thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. Especially when your eyes got big and you bit your lip trying not to smile too hard.
“I know” He said quietly, thumb massaging your hand that it was holding gently. “That’s why I asked for it.”
Stepping in close, you wrapped your arms around his middle. “You’re so sweet. How’d I get so lucky?”
Michael couldn’t stop the grin he had from getting bigger. He loved feeling chosen by you. He hugged you back and laughed under his breath. Chin resting on your head.
“Go wash up mama, I’ll fix your plate.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Dinner was quiet in the best way. You guys sat at the kitchen table instead of the big formal one since it was just the two of you. Between bites you chatted and caught up, although there wasn’t much to catch up on because Michael made sure he saw you nearly every day. If he didn’t see you, he’d speak to you at least twice on the phone. It was clingy but you loved it.
He asked you what you had been up to for the day. You told him a funny story about your little cousin.
You guys were at the mall and she was talking loudly about how her mama was trippin’ on her about not wanting her to hang out with some guy.
And then, her mom appeared right behind her as she was in the middle of rolling her neck and saying, “I don’t care what she say, I’m still goin’ with him to that party. If I gotta climb out my window, I’m goin.”
Long story short, when she looked and saw your aunt standing behind her, arms crossed and lips pursed, she changed her whole tune. Michael laughed hard and shook his head he loved hearing stories about your life. It was nice. Normal.
Every time you made a happy little sound as you took a bite his eyes flicked up to you like he couldn’t help watching. When you tore a piece of cornbread and dipped it in the gravy, he smiled to himself and looked down at his plate. Things felt easy with you. Comfortable, like home.
By the time the plates were empty you both were full and lazy.
“C’mon” Michael stretched his hand out to you. “Movie?” You accepted it without thinking.
In the den the lighting was warm and low. Michael put on something but you weren't really paying close attention to it. You were stretched out on the big couch on your back and he was settled between your legs, cheek resting against your tummy and arm draped loosely over your thigh. His weight was warm and familiar and every now and then he’d turn his head and press a soft, slow kiss to the skin right above your navel.
Absentmindedly, you played with his curls. His breathing matched yours and every so often his fingers would stroke lazily along the side of your thigh. After a while, he turned to look up at you with big doe eyes.
“There’s somethin’ I wanna show you” He said quietly, “In my room… come with me?” You shrugged and said sure, allowing him to pull you up off of the couch.
You followed him down the hall expecting a new demo he’d been working on or one of his quiet little hobbies. But when he opened the bedroom door, the air was warm and sweet with candlelight.
A new Stevie Wonder record was spinning on his turntable. And the bed— the bed was made neatly, pillows fluffed, rose petals scattered over the comforter and everything glowing gold.
Your eyebrows knit in confusion as you stopped in the doorway. “Michael… what is all this?”
He turned to you with a shy smile tugging at his lips, shoulders a little hunched. “Just… just tryin’ somethin’. For you. For us.”
He stepped close and placed gentle hands on your waist to lean in and kiss you. It started slow and soft, the kind that made your stomach flutter. His lips moved against yours like he couldn’t help himself, tongue gently trailing along your bottom lip to request access. His tongue slid warm and careful against yours.
One hand came up to cup your jaw and his thumb stroked your cheek as he kissed you deeper. He pulled back just enough to mumble against your lips, a little out of breath.
“I love kissin’ you so much,” he whispered. “Could do this all night and still not get enough.”
He kissed you slower this time like he was trying to prove it. You melted into it. Your hands slid up his chest, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his t-shirt. He made a quiet appreciative sound in his throat and kept kissing you, nipping softly at your bottom lip.
Only when both of you were a little dazed did he start walking you backward toward the bed. He eased you down and followed you. Then he started all over again. Kissing your throat and your collarbones, pushing your shirt up inch by inch so he could mouth at the soft skin at your stomach.
He took his time kissing down your tummy before going lower and settling on your thighs. His hands rubbed slow circles on them as he pressed his lips to the inside of your thigh where the skin was softest.
When your muscles twitched against his lips he smiled to himself and did again. Slower and higher this time. He let the anticipation build until your hips were shifting restlessly against the sheets under you.
A hot, open mouthed kiss was pressed over your panties and your breath caught. He looked up at you with dark, soft eyes.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “Every part of you.”
He took his time taking off your panties, hooking his fingers in the waistband and easing them down.
For a second he just gazed and admired how puffy and pretty your pussy looked. He still couldn’t believe he got to see you like this. Then, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss right over your clit. You made a quiet sound.
He settled in farther between your legs like he belonged there, shoulders gently spreading your legs wider. His tongue was gentle and he licked you with long careful strokes that made your hips roll against him without you intending to. He watched every little reaction closely and used them as a guide. If your breath caught in your throat, he stayed there. If your thighs shook in his hands, he did it again softer. He moaned quietly into you when you got wetter like the taste of you was something he wanted to savor.
“Mikey…” you gasped, hands gently threading through his curls.
He hummed against you teasingly to answer you which made your hips jolt. His tongue licked you flat and broad then he used the tip of it to gently circle your clit. One of his hands stayed on your thigh rubbing soothing circles while the other slid up to lace his fingers with yours.
When his lips sealed over your clit and sucked your back arched and soft moans fell past your lips. Michael loved it, and he kept that same patient rhythm as he kept you from pulling your hips away from him. He listened closely to the way your breathing changed. Then, he slid two fingers inside you and curled them slow, searching until he found a spot that made your hips jerk.
The way he stayed right there and used his tongue and fingers to stroke you had you seeing stars and tears prickling at the corners of your eyes from how good it felt. Michael moaned in appreciation when your thighs started quaking around his shoulders.
“That’s it, good girl baby” he murmured against you. “Let me make you feel good.”
The orgasm rolled through you in long, slow waves. Your fingers tightened in his hair and your hips pushed up against his mouth but he didn’t stop. He kept licking and sucking you through every throb, drawing it out until you were shaking and oversensitive to his touch. Only when you started gently pushing at his shoulders with a breathless little sound did he back away.
His gaze lingered on the pleasure-struck look on your pretty face as he pressed soft kisses to your thighs and made his way back up to your lips. His lips were shiny, eyes bright and soft.
He brushed his lips against yours and his eyes drifted across your features adoringly. He loved the way you got so dazed after he made you cum like that.
“I been thinkin’ bout somethin’,” he said softly. “I wanna try somethin’ new with you. If you trust me.”
“What, Mikey?” you asked, still breathless. He bit his lip nervously but held your gaze steadily.
“I…I want you to turn around for me, baby. On your knees… face down so I can love on you the way I been wantin’ to.”
The way he said it made your tummy flip. He never talked like that. Your eyes fluttered in surprise but you obeyed him immediately without question. Turning away from him, you pressed your chest and cheek to the mattress and arched your back to raise your ass high in the air.
Michael went completely still at your submission. The candle light was flickering against your soft brown skin, highlighting your pretty heart-shaped ass. His eyes trailed over your frame in the provocative position and admired how your waist dipped in at your wide hips that looked way more dramatic in this position.
He couldn’t help but notice the way your cheeks spread just enough to show the glistening lips of your pussy peeking out between them, a single strand of arousal dripping from you. Michael nearly drooled.
“Lord have mercy…” He exhaled. His hands explored you gently as if this was all new, palms sliding over the backs of your thighs to cup the fullness of your ass.
He squeezed gently then trailed his hands to your hips, gently running his thumbs over the dimples at the small of your back. “You look so pretty like this… I don’t even know what to do with myself, mama.”
He kissed your back where his thumbs has just been and then pressed another one to your right cheek.
He stood up straight and raised his t shirt up exposing his belly. Then he pushed his sweats down just enough. He was already hard, tip leaking with pre-cum from him rutting the mattress while he drooled from how good you tasted.
He dragged the head gently through your folds in a teasing way before letting it catch on your entrance. “You trust me, baby?” he whispered as he slid up to bump your clit. You made a soft surprised sound and he giggled.
“Yes baby, of course I trust you.”
That was all the permission Michael needed to show you everything he had learned for you.
He placed a hand on your hip and pushed in carefully and slowly. You let out a low satisfied sound as he slowly stretched you inch by inch, biting his lip to contain himself.
“Takin’ me so good, princess.” His voice was shaking a little. “So warm and tight… I can feel every little flutter.” He bottomed out, hips flush against you and stayed there for a moment. Once he was sure you were okay, he began moving in slow, deep, searching rolls like he was looking for something. Until oh— he found it.
The second the head of his dick nudged that spot your eyes rolled back and a broken gasp punched out of your chest. Your hips pushed back against him to take him deeper on instinct.
After a few strokes he felt your walls clench around him and suddenly, you got a lot wetter. When he looked down to watch himself stroking you, you were creaming thick and white around the base of his dick.
Michael’s eyes went wide. He had never made you do that before. “Oh… there it is. That’s it, ain’t it?”
He repeated the motion from the same angle with another deep nudge. You pushed back against him harder with a high, whiny moan spilling past your lips. Exactly how his brothers had described it. Your thighs shook slightly and he could feel you creaming more as the obscene sounds filled the room.
He pulled his t-shirt the rest of the way up and brought it to his lips so he could hold it with his teeth. He wanted an unfiltered look at the pretty picture he was painting between your legs.
Once free, his hands found their way to your hips and his thumbs pressed into the dimples there. He started fucking you deep and focused on angling every stroke to hit that spot over and over again.
He was still a little unsure, so he asked “Right there? Does that feel good, baby? I… I been readin’ ‘bout this. Wanted to make you feel good. Wanna make you cry for me the way Tito said.”
You nodded hard, pushing back against him for more and biting your lip when the movement made him nudge against your cervix. “Yes— yes, Mikey doin’ so good, don’t stop—”
He let out a shaky breath and kept rolling his hips. “Thank you baby, I learned it all for you. Been studyin’ so hard for you. So I could be perfect, just for you”
Your moans grew higher, completely wrapped in ecstasy and love. You kept pushing back, chasing it, thighs already starting to shake. His praise came in soft pieces between his breaths.
“Your skin looks so pretty in this light mama…”
“Love how soft you feel… smell so good too, like cocoa butter”
“These hips, baby…”
You were still pushing back for more, hips rolling to meet every deep stroke until— the intensity started tipping over into something sharper.
The pleasure got so concentrated it almost scared you. Your arms trembled and you tried to stay with it, but the pressure on that spot was becoming so intense that your body started easing forward on the bed without you consciously realizing it.
“Mikey—” you gasped, voice high and shaky. “Wait— it’s… it’s t-too much—”
His hips chased you as he trailed a hand slowly up the length of your back.
“Hand me a pillow, baby” You didn’t compute his request immediately due to being lost in the rhythm of his strokes.
One hand came down in a playful spank against the side of your ass. Not hard, just enough to make you jump a little and moan.
Instantly you obliged. He took the pillow from you and gently tucked it under your tummy under your hips. Instantly your back felt supported— and the pressure in your core increased.
His palm settled between your shoulder blades, gentle but firm, to keep you right where he wanted you. The other hand gripped your hip and pulled you back onto him in one smooth motion so he could keep the angle.
“I know, mama, I know,” he murmured, voice low and coaxing around the shirt in his mouth. “Feels so good, don’t it? Don’t run from me. Be a good girl and let me keep massagin’ that spot just right.”
You could hear how much wetter you were getting, and you could feel it too. Messy, creamy strings of your essence and his pre-cum every time he pulled back and thrust in again. Your arousal was coating his dick thicker, dripping down his balls now onto the sheets.
He watched it happen and his lips parted as the muscles in his stomach clenched and fluttered every time you creamed more around him. Your ass rippled and jiggled slightly with every thrust, back arching deeper because of your curves. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your heart-shaped ass bouncing soft and pretty against him in the candlelight.
“That’s my good girl…” he cooed, voice hoarse around the fabric in his mouth. “Look at you creamin’ all over me, baby. Your body was made for this, I swear. I love every inch of you. These thighs, this sexy lil’ waist,” he gently squeezed your love handles. “Pretty ass bouncin’ just for me. You smell like home, baby. Feel like home. I love you. I love makin’ you feel this good.”
Your eyes rolled back hard at the praise. “L-love you too Mikey— it feels so good— so— so good—” the words broke apart between high breathless moans as the pressure inside you kept building higher and higher.
It felt like something was about to break. Your thighs trembled violently and drool slipped from the corner of your mouth onto the pillow as your walls fluttered endlessly around him.
You could feel it. An intense, almost scary pressure right on your spot. Then your eyes fluttered open just enough to notice the towel spread underneath you. Very carefully placed. He planned for this.
Michael leaned forward and gently grabbed your jaw to tilt your head back so he could kiss you. As his mouth met yours he shifted the angle of his hips, gently alternating between nudging the sensitive swollen tissue of your G-spot and pressing just a little deeper so the head of his dick brushed your cervix. It was pornographic.
The combination of the tender open-mouthed kiss and the dual stimulation made your eyes flutter with submission and roll back. You moaned into his mouth, soft and helpless.
He kissed you like he couldn’t help it, soft and deep as he gave you those slow, alternating strokes before finally letting your head drop back down.
“Your ass looks so pretty like this,” he breathed, almost to himself. Then his cheeks went hot. “Can I say that? Tell me I can say it, baby.”
You looked back at him over your shoulder with glassy eyes.
“You can say whatever you want, Mikey… I love you. And I want you to stay inside. I went and got on the pill. Been thinkin’ about tryin’ somethin’ new with you too.”
His eyes lit up. Something warm and confident sparked behind them. The words his brothers had said echoing in his head. You hit that lil’ spot deep inside her, and she gon’ love you forever. He gripped your hips a little firmer, a soft new certainty in the way he moved.
The pressure kept climbing. Your voice cracked.
“Mikey— wait— I think I gotta— I think I gotta pee—”
His whole face changed. Eyes bright and shining like he’d just unlocked a new level in a video game.
“It’s okay, baby,” he said, voice low and coaxing, a little breathless with excitement. “Don’t hold it. Don’t be scared. Just let it go for me. I read about this… it’s supposed to feel like that when it’s real good. You’re doin’ so good for me. Just let it happen mama. I got you.”
You almost giggled at how earnest he sounded until he nudged that spot again, slow and deliberate. Your eyes rolled back hard. The pressure broke. A sharp, wet rush of fluid gushed out of you around his dick, soaking the towel and splashing against his thighs as you squirted hard, body shaking, high-pitched cries spilling from your throat.
Michael made a sound like he’d just won something. A soft, stunned, almost disbelieving moan left him as he watched and felt you come apart on him.
“Oh my God… baby… look at you…”
The second he felt you squirt, his own orgasm started to crest slow and deep. His eyes fluttered. His stomach muscles clenched. A broken, accidental “F-fuck—” slipped out of him right as the first thick pulse left him.
He immediately looked almost panicked.
“Sorry—! I didn’t mean to say that—” he gasped, still cumming in long, drawn-out waves, hips stuttering as he filled you. “It just— it felt so— oh God, baby, I love you—”
You moaned low and deep when you felt him spill inside you, the warmth of it making your whole body clench around him again. It was y’alls first time like this. Something about the trust of it and the way he stayed buried deep and gave you everything made your eyes sting a little even as another aftershock rolled through you. You pushed back against him weakly, taking every pulse, a soft, satisfied sound leaving your throat.
He stayed inside you until the last tremor passed, arms wrapped tight around your middle, both of you shaking and trying to catch your breath. Stevie Wonder still spun soft in the background.
After a long while he pulled out slowly and kissed the back of your neck. He laid next to you and pulled you on top of him, draping your still shaking thigh across his waist. One hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on your lower back.
He was quiet for a while, just breathing you in.
Then, soft and shy he asked, “Did I… did I do okay? Was that good for you?”
You lifted your head enough to kiss him, lazy and sweet.
“More than good, Mikey. You found it. You made me cry just like Tito said you would.”
He buried his face in your neck, cheeks hot, but you could feel him smiling against your skin.
“Yeah,” he whispered, voice full of wonder. “I guess I did.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
please respect my work 💌
Everything posted here is written
by @brownsugarletters. Please do not repost, copy, translate, claim as your own, upload to Al tools, or share my writing outside of Tumblr without permission.
I like soft doms that are also pleasure doms, gently correcting my behavior only to make sure I feel good because it helps them feel good. To feel gentle hands wrap around my throat because I told them I’m close and they know this will send me over the edge, hearing them tell me I’m doing such a good job when I cum, knowing they’re going to use my orgasm to get off because they love that they can make me cum no matter what
Synopsis: When Michael's brothers laugh at his offering to play Twister, you agree to join him, much to his delight, but things take a bit of a turn when it somehow transforms into a game of Strip Twister.
Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader
Tags: Smut, Porn Without Plot, Stripping, Loss of Virginity, Teasing, Slight Slow Burn, Sub!Michael, Dom!Reader, Begging, Kissing, Dry Humping, Handjobs, Praise Kink, Titty Sucking, Penetrative Sex, Vaginal Sex, Cowgirl Position
Word Count: 5,250
A/N: Remember when I made a post saying that I was writing a twister smut a few days after the biopic came out and I said I was gonna upload it later that night? Yeah me neither cuz that was so fucking long ago.
I honestly considered scrapping this several times because it was so incredibly difficult to write for some reason but after spending hours making the colored dot dividers myself on canva (i kept fucking up the spacing and sizing of the circles), I figured there was no way in hell I was gonna let all that work go to waste so I forced myself to finish the fic lol. I'm glad I did end up finishing it tho cuz despite how terrible I thought it was while writing it, I'm actually pretty satisfied with how it turned out. Enjoy!
AO3 Link // Masterlist
The sun was beating down on you with a vigor you hadn't seen in weeks and your left arm was increasingly getting sore with each instance of you lifting it up to glance at your watch. You could've sworn that at least 5 minutes had passed since the last time you looked at it, so why the minute hand had only moved one spot, you couldn't understand. Stifling a yawn for the umpteenth time today, you watched the brothers play basketball in the driveway through heavy eyelids.
It wasn't the standard for you to be hanging out with them. Michael was the one who had been your best friend and go-to hang out buddy since the day him and his whole family first moved into the neighborhood. But nearly a decade later, you were yearning for something more...intimate, and although you didn't have a ton of concrete evidence to back it up, you were confident that the feeling was mutual. So when you rang the doorbell at Hayvenhurst earlier today and were told by Katherine that Michael was currently at the toy store with Bill, you begrudgingly accepted the brothers' offer to watch them play solely for the purpose of killing time before Michael came home.
The sound of the gate opening and a running engine gradually approaching roused you out of whatever sleep you were just about to fall into. You hopped off the hood of the red car that you were sitting on top of, anxious to finally to be released from the shackles of watching this game. Michael stepped out of the car and greeted all of you before excitedly making his way over to the trunk. Once Bill opened the trunk, Michael yanked a familiar game out of a big blue shopping bag.
"Guys look, I got Twister! You wanna play tonight?" Michael just barely finished his sentence before all the boys started laughing at him.
"Twister? Really?"
"What are we gonna do with Twister?"
The smile that made Michael's face radiate like the sun depleted ever so slightly. "Come on, it'll be like the old days," he countered.
"We'd love to, Mike, but I gotta be at home with the family, I can't be playing games," argued Jermaine before immediately reverting his attention back to the ball.
"And the rest of us are going out tonight."
"Yeah, Marlon's got a hot date."
Michael cradled the box in the nook of his arm, a subtle look of dejection lingering in his eyes. "Marlon, what time are you gonna be home? We can play then."
Before Marlon could respond, Tito answered for him. "Marlon's gonna be playing his own game of Twister tonight."
They all went back to laughing, and in a series of rather fortunate events, you swooped in to snatch your chance of getting what you came here for: some alone time with Michael.
"I'll play with you," you said, and the light came back to his eyes as quickly as it left.
"At least there's one person around here who knows how to have fun," Michael responded, speaking indirectly to his brothers. "Come on then, the faster we get to my room, the more time we have to play."
With haste, Michael bolted to the front door of the house as you chased after him, laughter from the both of you filling the air as you ran past.
Whether 30 minutes had passed or 3 hours, it was difficult to tell. You and Michael had played an unfathomable number of rounds, and that same yawn that you stifled earlier started haunting your throat again. Michael on the other hand still had enough energy to play until the cows came home.
"Let's play one more round," Michael said, mimicking his words from the past 5 rounds while smoothing out the mat.
You weren't sure if you'd be able to handle another round of the same dreary game. It's not that you wanted to stop playing, it's just that you wanted to spice things up a bit. Twister would've been a blast to play on its own for 50+ plus rounds back when you were in grade school, but you were an adult now which meant you had a different, and slightly more raunchy idea of fun.
Just as that thought passed through your head, a light bulb went off and a devious grin crept on your face. Oh yes. Not only would the brilliant idea that just popped into your head make for a much more interesting game, but it would lead you right to where you wanted to be with Michael. Right to where you've wanted to be with him for years now.
"Michael, why don't we switch it up a bit? Play a different version of Twister than the one we've been playing this whole time?"
"A different version? Like what?"
"Strip Twister."
His head shot up. You could tell he was physically trying to restrain his eyes from popping out of his head. "Strip Twister?"
"Yeah, I learned how to play it from an old friend at summer camp several years ago. You play the game like how you normally would, but every time someone falls, that person has to remove an article of clothing and the game doesn't end until one of us is naked."
Michael chuckled uneasily. "I don't know if it's a good idea to play that version."
"Why not?" you asked in feigned oblivion.
"Because one of us is gonna end up seeing the other naked!" Michael exclaimed, though his tone of voice and body language didn't really express the same level of opposition as the words coming out of his mouth.
"Oh please, I took sex ed in school, I know what boys look like down there. Besides, we're not strangers. It's not that much different from seeing each other in our bathing suits."
Michael's face was unreadable. Worried that you had overstepped a boundary, your brain scrambled to find a way to go back in time 30 seconds and never mention the Strip Twister, but what Michael said next nearly made your own eyes pop out of your head.
"50 bucks says I'm the last one clothed by the end."
The same devious grin from earlier revisited your face, and you both shook hands to seal the deal; the last instance of purely platonic physical contact that you two would engage in for the rest of the day.
At the end of round 1, your socks were sacrificed. At the end of round 2, it was Michael's turn to sacrifice his socks. The finale of round 3 constituted the removal of Michael's plain white t-shirt, but round 4 was where you had to give up your Jordache jeans. After Michael's arms gave out on him in round 5, you teased him with a wolf-whistle as he discarded his black sweats, revealing the Mickey Mouse boxers he was wearing underneath. You nearly broke the skin on your bottom lip biting down on it to suppress your laughter. Round 6 was a close game, but your halter top was the next article of clothing that ended up on the floor at the end of that round.
Now in nothing but your second skins, the stakes were at an all time high. Michael was determined to be the last man standing (or clothed in this case) but you needed him to lose this next round to carry out your master plan as intended.
Michael was virtually heaving at this point and sounded breathless every time he spoke. You were shocked that he hadn't gotten a boner yet, especially considering the way he couldn't take his eyes off of your body. He spun the wheel right next to him. "Alright, right hand red."
Bullseye. There was no better body part/color combination that the arrow could've landed on, because with just one convenient placement of your right hand on the red dot all the way to the far edge of the mat, you were now promoted to hovering on top of Michael. The cloth prison that your breasts were still confined in left little to the imagination as your nipples prodded through the thin fabric in perfect line with Michael's gaze. His breath was hot on your cleavage and you could hear just the faintest bit of shakiness in it. And it wasn't long after you got into the new position that you felt something lightly press up against your underwear with more and more force by the second. It was as if whatever the mystery object was that was pressing up against your core was growing. The tiniest gasp escaped from Michael's mouth and he lowered his body as close to the ground as he could without actually touching it. There it was. You now wished you could go back to the crab-walk stance to see the mountain growing in his boxers in real time.
You leaned forward to be able to reach the arrow on the wheel and determine Michael's fate. He had turned his head to the side out of politeness when he saw you reach forward, but his willpower to remain gentlemanly was subpar at best because you clocked several instances of him glancing back at your breasts in the 5 seconds it took for the arrow to land on left foot red.
A Robin Hood Bullseye. Michael's left foot was all the way on the green dot farthest to the edge of the mat in line with where your right hand was. There was no way he would be able to get it all the way over to red without losing his balance and falling, especially with you on top of him limiting the amount of space he had for his leg to move.
He looked up at you with pleading eyes once he realized how rigorous this feat would be to accomplish, but he was only met with a witty smirk in return.
After a great deal of stalling, Michael revved himself up to hoist his left foot off of the green spot and plant it onto the red spot directly next to the one your right hand was on, but his strategy was foiled when his foot got stuck to the mat and caused him to collapse dramatically underneath you.
You cheered in victory, lifting yourself off of him to jump in the air and chant your triumph as he lay in the same position he fell in, his arms crossed weakly on top of his torso and his head rolled back in laughter. As much as he hated losing a game to you, he loved watching you put on a show every time you won. Once you finished rubbing your victory in his face, you plopped down right next to him and Michael briskly lifted his left knee up to hide the front of his boxers.
You rubbed his arms up and down, gently squeezing his lean biceps. "The $50 you can give me later, but Mickey Mouse is gonna have to say goodbye right now." You transitioned your hands from his biceps to the waistband of his underwear, and even through his deep brown skin, you could see the faintest hint of red looming on his cheeks before he covered his face with his hands and playfully tried to kick you away.
"No! Please!" he begged through a fit of giggles. "C'mon, let's do best out of 3."
"It doesn't work like that, applehead."
Michael carried on with his laughing fit for some time while you continued to toy with his waistband. At this point, he was fighting back less and less with each graze of your hand past his navel. In fact, he wasn't really putting much effort into hiding his erection anymore either. His legs now lay completely relaxed and flat on the floor, giving you a full view of the outline of his thick cock laying off to one side and protruding through the fabric, begging for some form of escape.
Curious as to whether he was no longer hiding his growing appendage on purpose or if he simply forgot it was there, you tugged his boxers down the slightest bit, just enough to see where the dark curls of his pubic hair began. He didn't stop you. He simply shuddered as another row of muffled giggles came out of his mouth. When he finally removed his hands from his face, he gazed up at you with a glimmer in his eyes that was anything but platonic.
"You're not stopping me," you pointed out.
Michael shook his head, looking as though he just got hit with Cupid's arrow.
You crossed your arms and sat back on your heels. "You figured out the reason why I suggested Strip Twister in the first place, didn't you?"
Michael nodded.
"So then you know where this is heading?"
He nodded once more.
"And you want me to continue?"
"Please," he squeaked, struggling to quell a smile that almost touched his eyes.
"Well," you swung a leg over to sit on top of him and bent down until his face was a blur in your eyes, "since you asked so nicely."
The gasp that emerged from Michael's mouth as you seated yourself directly on top of his aching bulge was briskly silenced by the delicate kiss you planted on his lips. You pulled back after the first initial peck to catch his reaction, and you were pleasantly surprised to see him lift his head up off the ground in a desperate attempt to meet your lips again.
Your hand found its way to the back of his head, cradling his curls, dampened by preliminary sweat, as you brought your lips to his once more. You lingered there for a little while longer this time, making sure to savor his taste. You hadn't realized just how starving you were for him until now, and neither did he. His hands maneuvered to your back to hold onto you, pulling you in until your bodies were pressing against each other. As your lips fought to consume one another, you grabbed hold of his hands and guided them to the hook of your bra. With a swift unclasp, the bra slid right off and down your arms before being thrown onto the pile with the rest of the discarded clothes.
A mini sigh of relief fell from your lips and trickled into Michael's mouth. Your breasts lay freely on his chest and your hearts synced together, thumping at a rapid pace as the dizziness in your heads made you both feel like your brains were being carried by ocean waves. Was this actually happening? Or did you fall asleep while watching the brothers play basketball and you were just dreaming right now? You would've pinched yourself to know for sure, but you much preferred the feeling of Michael's fingers desperately gripping your thighs as opposed to your own.
As much as Michael's sickly sweet lips satisfied your craving orally, your core still remained starved for the delicacy that lay between his legs. Lightly, your hips began to rock back and forth on his clothed member. Michael whimpered, his legs wriggling beneath you and his hands dancing in a mixture of balling themselves into fists and retracting.
The slickness from your cunt began to coat the entire bottom of your panties, making the part of Michael's boxers that his shaft hugged so tightly sopping wet as well. For whatever part of his boxers wasn't soaked from your juices, the precum oozing out of him finished the job.
What started as a gentle back-and-forth motion eventually turned into aggressive grinding. These damn panties and boxers were in your way, barricading you from the real thing, and no matter how hard you rubbed yourself on Michael, it wasn't enough. He must've felt the same way, because while you were both still tongue-deep in each other's mouths, you felt his fingers tuck themselves into the sides of your panties, signaling to you that he wanted you to take them off.
You lifted yourself up, met with a whiny protest from Michael, and bit your lip as you smiled pompously. "I'm sorry, was I the one that lost Twister?" you asked him.
He shook his head, his eyes stark on your tits.
"That's right. You were the one that lost, which means these have to come off first," you said, playfully tugging at his boxers.
You teased him for what was realistically about 2 minutes, but to him, it felt like hours. You snaked your hands underneath the boxers to squeeze and knead his trembling thighs before migrating them over to his cock, which was still fully clothed, giving him a lazy hand job that made him squirm and writhe defenselessly.
"Please… Just take it off… I can't… I need… Mmph."
You giggled, butterflies going haywire in the pit of your stomach. You had never seen him act like this before, so needy and entirely helpless at your disposal. You would've teased him for even longer just to see how much he could handle before he cracked, but at this point, your legs were starting to quiver as well, and you had become so wet that you could physically feel the fluid dripping out of your pussy in real time.
"As you wish," you gladly stated, and with one sturdy pull, his boxers were dragged down from his hips and off of his legs.
Michael sighed in relief as his dick sprang free, slapping his stomach and leaving a thin string of precum connecting his glistening tip to the spot that it hit before standing fully upright.
You swallowed your breath. They say that the camera adds 10 lbs. Well, it must've been the case that Mickey Mouse boxers subtract 10 lbs, because the silhouette of his dick in his underwear could not even begin to compare to how big it looked when it was wild and free.
Slightly curved towards himself with speckles of lighter skin all around and a broad vein running down the shaft, you guesstimated that his dick must've been at the very least 7 and a half inches, maybe even 8. You became a bit nervous. You weren't a virgin, unlike Michael, but none of the other guys you had been with in the past were even remotely close in size to him. Was all that going to fit inside of you? There was only one way to find out, and God, you couldn't wait to find out the answer.
In a tantalizing manner, you grabbed hold of his hands and tucked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, silently giving him permission to do what he wanted to do 3 minutes ago. With shaky hands, he carefully slid your underwear off of you, his hands gliding down your thighs before you briskly passed your feet through the holes and threw them onto the pile, topping it off like the star on a Christmas tree.
Eager for the main event with your slickness now crawling down onto your inner thighs, you pounced on top of Michael, grabbing hold of his face and planting your lips onto his once more. As your tongues danced with each other and his hands went back to caressing your body, focusing on the parts that weren't accessible to him until now, yours slithered down, gliding past his throat where you could feel his heart beating inside of it, past his chest covered in a thick sheen of perspiration, past his stomach where you traced the lines that made up his delicate abs, and past the mound of curly black pubic hair until they wrapped around his pulsating cock.
Michael expelled a drawn-out mewl as you stroked him thoroughly, starting at the very bottom of the base and pushing up until his foreskin swallowed the tip before you glided your hand back down and the glistening head bloomed once more. The squelching noises accompanied by Michael's kitten-like whimpers were music to your ears.
"Please, please," he begged as you continued to fondle him, rotating your hands as you went up and down to ensure that no part of his dick was left unstroked, "I just wanna be inside you already, please…"
You fought hard to suppress a shudder, having almost came right then and there from hearing him say that. You had spent this whole time having a ball teasing Michael to the point of madness that you hadn't realized just how close you were to your own tipping point until he said those magic words in that delectably high-pitched voice of his. It was in that moment that you released your hands from his cock and pulled him up so that he was sitting upright, leaning against the edge of his bed as opposed to laying flat on the floor like he had been this whole time. You needed to be face to face with him for this moment.
You maneuvered yourself to hover over his cock, wrapping your arms around his neck and touching your foreheads together as he gripped and kneaded your ass with desperation. It almost felt like he was trying to push your hips down. You took the hint and finally lowered yourself onto him at long last. As his lubed tip began to pierce through your hole, shockwaves of pleasure emanated through the both of you, starting at the base of your groins and dispersing all throughout your bodies until you could feel the tingles passing through each follicle of hair on your scalp. Michael's head rolled back as a moan of intense relief escaped from his throat, and your mouth hung open as you felt his member stretch your ribbed walls inch by inch.
Your thighs trembled like mad trying their absolute hardest to hold your weight as you slowly drew yourself down. 1 inch, 2 inches, 3 inches, 4 inches. It burned so good. You viciously sucked on his neck trying to distract yourself from the pain, knowing that pure bliss was coming soon, and the vibrations that his moans set off on your teeth helped open your cunt to let him in deeper. 5 inches, 6 inches, 7 inches…
Soon your pussy swallowed all 8 inches of him and your trembling thighs were finally rewarded with resting on top of his as you both let out a low-drawn groan in unison. You stayed there for a little while, wanting to relish in the feeling of his dick being hugged tightly by the slick walls of your cunt.
"God, you're so big, it's making me so full," you whispered breathlessly against the skin of his neck. "You want me to start moving up and down?"
An incomprehensible noise emitted from Michael's throat as he furiously nodded his head, a couple beads of sweat shaking off of his curls as a result.
"I need an audible answer, baby."
"Hmmph," he said, digging his fingers into your hips in an attempt to try and lift you up.
Dissatisfied with him not listening to you, you snatched his wrists and yanked them up so that his hands hung above his head. He looked at you with a feeble pout, his eyes beginning to turn glossy from the tears of desperation that were burning in the back of his skull.
"You are gonna answer me with a verbal 'yes' or 'no' like a good boy or I'm gonna put my clothes back on and walk out of here right now." You were bluffing, of course. You wouldn't dream of walking out of the room during a moment as beautiful as this, but Michael didn't need to know that. "One more time, do you want me to start moving up and down?"
"Y-yes please. Please just move, hmph, I've been waiting forever for this, just please do it already~"
"I've been waiting forever for this." There it was. The proof you needed that the feelings you had for Michael for years now were indeed mutual. And no amount of "please's" or magic words were as effective in giving Michael what he wanted as that sweet phrase that you yourself had waited forever for.
"As you wish," you repeated yourself from earlier.
Fighting through the ache in your thighs, you lifted yourself all the way up until nothing but the very top of his tip was still inside of you and slammed yourself back down, both of your thighs creating a deafening clap on impact.
A stunned wail erupted from Michael's throat at the initial drop. He clung to you as if a gust of wind was enough to drag you away from him, burying his head into the crevice of your shoulder. You could feel the warm tears leaking out of his eyes and onto your collarbone as you maintained the same pattern of stroking his cock with your pussy from tip to base.
"Ooh, ah, ah, it feels so good... You feel so good~" Michael's voice wobbled with every bounce you did. After several strokes, you had finally gotten used to his size and could pick up the pace, bouncing so fast that Michael could no longer keep his head buried in your shoulder. You lifted him up by his curls and giggled at his face. The face of a man who was in shambles at this very moment in time. The face of a man who didn't have an ounce of control over anything and liked it like that. The face of a man who would do whatever you wanted right now, so long as you kept riding him.
His tear-stained eyes couldn't pull themselves away from your breasts jiggling to the rhythm. You were just about to start getting close, you could feel it, but you needed an extra push.
"Michael, baby," you cooed, "d'you wanna be a good boy and suck on my titties for me?"
No verbal response yet again. Instead, he answered by grabbing your right breast and enveloping his lips around your areola, visibly trying to shove as much of your tit into his mouth as he could. You moaned in surprise pleasure, enraptured to see him so eager to fulfill your request without second thought.
You continued riding him at a steady pace, both of your juices blending to form an off-white elixir that presented itself as a ring around the base of Michael's cock where you landed with each recoil. Your hands gripped and kneaded his curls, forming knots in his hair that he could care less about as his tongue swirled in circles and figure eights around your erected nipples. He sucked and slurped your breasts like it was his last meal, his toes curling as you pounded down onto him repeatedly.
It was when he began to lightly tug at your nipples with his teeth that you could start to feel it. That fire kindling deep within the pit of your stomach that gave you the warning. Hastily, you shoved Michael's face deeper into your chest, not wanting him to stray even a centimeter away from where he was, and he obliged with pleasure as you thrusted yourself all the way down onto his member and started to vigorously grind your throbbing clit on top of his pubic mound.
The friction from Michael's course pubic hair against your clit sent you into a frenzy as you felt the sensation of fireworks going off inside of you. Your hips stuttered against his as your diaphragm squeezed itself against your will to fill the room with your boisterous moans. Your nails dug into his scalp and your eyes rolled back until you could see nothing but the unidentifiable color of your eyelids. As you bucked your hips, riding out the last bit of your euphoria, your thighs squelched as all of the juices that expelled from your pussy found its way past the barrier that Michael's rock hard dick planted inside of you and spilled out of you and all over him, leaving itself as a glimmering puddle on his lap.
Your grinding slowed as the aftershocks of your cunt pulsing every few seconds like a heartbeat squeezed Michael's cock, but he frantically urged you not to stop now as his high was nearing.
"No, no, no, please, I've been a good boy, please don't stop now, I feel it coming~"
Suddenly regaining all of your energy, you went back to riding him in full force, pulling him away from your breasts and into your line of view so that you could watch his climax in all its glory.
"Yes, you've been such a good boy," you assured him, knowing full well that the floodgates would burst open the more you praised him. "You'll be the best boy in the world if you cum inside of me, baby. Don't be afraid, just let it all out."
"Uuuuughhh, mmmmph~" His eyes squeezed shut in concentration and his hips started to buck against yours, causing you to fall out of rhythm for a few seconds before you both found the right beat, your thighs pounding against each other with resounding claps before Michael's breathing hitched, his back arched, and he latched onto you.
"Ohh, ahh, I'm cumming, oh my God, I'm cumming!" he cried out. Your name fell mercilessly from his lips as thick ropes of warm cum spurted out of him and splattered onto the rigid walls of your pussy. Your cunt dragged his creamy liquid up and down his shaft, coating his entire dick as you still continued to ride him while he was finishing, doing your best to milk him dry. Loud wailing moans soon turned into mewling whines as the last bit of cum weakly dribbled out of Michael's fully pumped cock and you slowed down in time to feel him pulse inside of you before shrinking back down to his flaccid size.
None of you said anything for a while as you both caught your breaths and tried to register what just happened. Michael's head rested on your shoulder and you rubbed his back while murmuring praises in his ear about what a good job he did. Although when you did so, you could've sworn you felt one last gush of cum expel out of him as he jolted ever so slightly in your arms.
"Do you feel better?" you asked him. He lifted himself off of your shoulder, nodding his head and gulping heavily as if attempting to swallow a tablespoon of peanut butter before reaching over to his wallet, which had been resting on the ottoman pressed up against the bed this whole time, and pulling out a crisp $50 bill. You chuckled, having completely forgotten about that part of the deal before snatching the bill in between your index and middle finger like it was a cigarette and grabbing your jeans from the pile to tuck it into the pocket of.
"So, uh," Michael gulped once more, "what should we do now?" He was visibly love drunk, though you weren't sure if a cold shower would be enough to sober him up.
At this moment in time, you knew that it was in your guys' best interests to clean yourselves up and get dressed before anyone came in, but just for the sake of wanting to be funny, you had to ask:
☙ SYNOPSIS: you and michael try to be intimate for the first time but… it doesn’t fit.
WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI — there’s no plot btw, dry humping, “just the tip” , virginity loss (reader & michael) reader literally begs for it but regrets it after, cockwarming i think, fingering, no use of y/n
☙ WORD COUNT: 1k
michael jackson masterlist ༻ navi
“michael…” you whisper against his lips, you’re sitting on his lap, on the couch in the living room. and you’ve been kissing for what has felt like hours. you already feel the growing bulge in his slacks and you love hearing the slight moan come out of his lips when you accidentally rub yourself on his length.
“mikey, please…” you whine, his hand bunching your skirt around your waist. his hips buck up into yours causing you to ground your clothed pussy onto his crotch faster. you feel your hole clenching on nothing, your panties probably drenched from you being so wet.
you and michael are still fresh in your relationship, having been friends for years until you both couldn’t deny the attraction any longer. you guys have done everything but fuck. you’ve sucked him off, he’s eaten your pussy like he’s starving, he’s plunged his long, thick fingers inside of your warmth, stretching your cunt to its limits and as much as it feels good, you want more.
no you need more.
you need to feel the delicious burn of his dick pushing inside of you, kissing your cervix, wedging himself so far into you that you’re sure you’ll feel him in your stomach.
“mama—”
you interrupt him catching his bottom lip between your teeth. his breath catches in his throat when he feels his dick throb with need.
“i wanna feel you,” you mumble, trailing kisses down his neck, nibbling and sucking his skin.
“baby…” you hear his breath hitch, his hips pushing up into you once again.
“do you not want to fuck me?” you ask him, sitting up straight so your core is firmly pressed onto his bulge.
he lets out a weak breath, like he’s struggling to contain himself. “i do… i wanna make love to you so bad but—”
“what’s stopping you?” you pout. “i’m right here and im already aching to feel you inside of me, look…” you grab his hand, pushing it in between your bodies to your clothed cunt, letting him feel how soaked you are.
“fuck.” michael whispers, pushing your underwear to the side without even realising. you gasp when his fingers circle around your opening gathering your slickness.
“you’re already so wet.” you try and hide your grin at the pure desperation in his voice.
“i know.” you grin. your mouth suddenly falls open when you feel the thickness of his finger pushing inside of your spongy walls.
“mikey…” you moan, grasping his forearm. he hums, working his finger in and out of you.
“i was trying to be a gentleman ma, but you keep on making it so hard for me.” you nod, even though his eyes are focused on the movements of his finger inside of you. it’s like he’s just talking to himself.
“please.” you beg. “ill be so good, i promise.”
you hear something close to a growl escape michael’s throat. you yelp when you’re suddenly flipped onto your back on the couch, with michael above you.
his lips crash down onto yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth with ease. the kiss is messy, a mix of tongue and the occasional clash of teeth, but you don’t care. you even wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you.
you keep kissing him, hearing the sound of his belt unbuckling.
michael pushes his pants down just far enough to free out his length, before rubbing it against you cunt and gathering all of your wetness. you suck in a breath, feeling the tip catching onto your entrance.
you wince feeling the pressure of him trying to push it inside, your hole trying to suck him in.
michael breaks apart from the kiss, looking down and pushing his hips more forward, trying to get at least the tip in.
your eyebrows furrow, feeling just a slight bit of pain. you mentally shrug, thinking it’s normal and just raise your head, pressing your lips back against michael’s.
the distraction works for a second too long, until the painful ache starts to get even unbearable. “is it in?” you ask. looking down to see that the tip hasn’t even breached your entrance yet.
“i—” michael blushes, “it’s not going in. m’trying.” you feel the burn of him pushing his hips forward again, pressing your hand against his stomach.
“it’s not going to fit.” you swallow, embarrassment eating you up alive.
what kind of girlfriend are you if you can’t even take your boyfriends dick?
michael looks down at you, then looks at his enlarged member. he bites his bottom lip like he’s thinking. you honestly want the couch to swallow you up whole, you’ve never been so embarrassed.
“uh.. maybe if i just—” you gasp, clutching onto his shoulder when the burning intensifies and you feel the tip of his member pop inside of you.
michael hisses at the penetration, never actually feeling something so damn tight before. it feels like you’re trying to suck the skin off of his dick.
you on the other hand have never felt so full. you’re aware that it’s just the tip, but you don’t believe you have any more room available for the rest of his length.
“oh god.” you pant, resting your head back on the arm of the couch. “i underestimated how big you actually are.” you whine, when he pushes his hips forward again, causing another inch to slip inside.
“i don’t think i can take anymore.” you gulp, already digging your nails into his back.
michael nods, dropping his head in the crook of your neck. “i agree… why don’t we just stay like this for a while.”
you nod quickly, believing that if he does thrust another inch inside of you then he might just tear you apart from the inside.
you may have been too greedy and underestimated the size of your boyfriend.
on the bright side, it’s only you guys’ first time so maybe next time you’ll be able to take all of him.
