Tags: smut, dom!michael, sub!reader, freaky!mike(in other news, grass is green), big dick!mike, creampies, size kink, light exhibitionism, praise kink, spit kink, nipple play, temperature play, pussy eating, blowjobs, possessiveness, hes a gentleman at heart though, etc.
Word Count: 1.1k
Requested: yes/no
Author’s Note: Posting this quickly after the last one as an apology for being gone for months.
Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist
✎ᝰ! A pleasure dom through and through. Sex is always about you. Your pleasure comes first, second, and third. He makes sure you cum countless times before he even thinks about his own release.
✎ᝰ! Absolutely loathes doggy style. It feels too impersonal and unromantic to him; he can’t see your pretty face, can’t kiss your lips, or bury his face in the crook of your neck to suck fresh love marks into your skin. The lack of eye contact actually frustrates him.
✎ᝰ! Makes the filthiest sounds known to mankind. He’s not obnoxiously loud, but he whimpers and groans right against your ear, voice breaking as he tells you no one else has ever made him feel this good, no one else ever could.
✎ᝰ! Does all the “work.” Your only job is to lay there and look pretty for him, taking everything he gives you. Your passivity turns him on beyond belief. He’s forbidden you from riding him or sucking him off because that’s too much effort for his precious girl. You’re meant to be worshipped, not to labor.
✎ᝰ! Michael is high key a freak and not ashamed of it in the slightest.
✎ᝰ! Definitely has a foot fetish, you cannot prove me wrong. He tries to be so discreet about it, but the way he unconsciously focuses on the way your toes curl when he’s deep inside you gives him away each time.
✎ᝰ! He is absolutely infatuated with the way you taste. He could, without exaggeration, spend hours between your warm thighs just making you finish over and over with no breaks in between. He gets easily drunk on your flavour and the sounds you make, his eyes crossing and fluttering from keeping himself on edge while his jaw aches but doesn't dare stop.
✎ᝰ! He rarely subs. The closest it gets is when he’s exhausted but still desperate to take care of you. In those moments he’ll lie back and let you ride him, using his cock like your personal toy while he watches you with hazy, adoring eyes.
✎ᝰ! He is hung, honey. Seven inches when soft, a thick nine when fully erect. Uncut, girthy, and veiny — the kind of cock that makes your mouth water and think the gods may have you as their favorite.
✎ᝰ! Shamelessly whimpers on the phone with you while slowly stroking his leaking cock when he’s on tour. He needs you to hear exactly what you do to him, even from hundreds of miles away.
✎ᝰ! Loves when it gets messy. He goes feral at the sight of a creamy white ring of your arousal frothing around the base of his thick cock, dripping down his heavy balls with each deep slide.
✎ᝰ! Michael is very handsy. He’s constantly groping and squeezing your soft skin, especially your hips, waist, and love handles, like he can’t you’re real.
✎ᝰ! Is obsessed with the fact that your hand can't fully encircle his cock. Strokes his ego just right.
✎ᝰ! He’s very possessive. The idea of a threesome makes him physically gag, yet he can’t stop fantasizing about having both of your holes filled at the same time. What a delicious dilemma he’s trapped himself in.
✎ᝰ! Steals your panties constantly and uses them when you’re not home. He’ll either wrap the silky fabric around his throbbing cock while he strokes himself or press them to his face, inhaling your scent as he fists his weeping length.
✎ᝰ! On the rare occasions he lets you suck his cock, he always has you lying comfortably on the bed while he stands at the edge. He refuses to let your knees touch the hard floor, that’s too degrading for his sweet girl.
✎ᝰ! Ass eater.
✎ᝰ! Whenever he takes you against a wall from behind, he always puts his hand against the surface so you can rest your cheek on it instead of the cold, hard wall, protecting you even while he’s pounding into you.
✎ᝰ! Extremely attentive to your cycles. Knows exactly when you’re ovulating and becomes even more insatiable, fucking you slower and deeper like he’s trying to make it take.
✎ᝰ! Surprisingly into temperature play. Will run an ice cube down your body before following the cold trail with his hot tongue, especially around your nipples and clit. The contrast makes you arch and shiver so prettily for him.
✎ᝰ! Keeps the lights on or at least dim. He needs to see everything.
✎ᝰ! Gets stupidly turned on when you’re shy in public but filthy for him in private. The contrast makes him want to ruin you the second the door closes.
✎ᝰ! Has an odd yet intense fixation on your pulse points. He’ll spend long minutes sucking and licking at your throat and wrists just to feel your heartbeat fluttering against his tongue.
✎ᝰ! Gets painfully hard just from watching you get dressed in the morning. The way you hook your bra, slide panties up your thighs, or bend over to grab something makes him groan low in his throat. Sometimes he can’t resist pulling you back into bed before you even finish.
✎ᝰ! Obsessed with your nipples. Spends ages teasing them with his tongue, sucking them into his mouth until they’re swollen and sensitive, gently biting just to hear that sharp little gasp you make.
✎ᝰ! Adores when you wear nothing but jewelry in bed, especially the ones he bought you. The way they sparkle and jingle against your skin while he drives into you is pure art to him.
List of some of his kinks/fetishes:
✎ᝰ! Creampies: He loves filling you up to the absolute brim with his thick, sticky seed. The feeling of his tip kissing pressing against your cervix while he paints the tight sensitive ring white drives him wild. He cums so much that it always leaks out of your spent pussy no matter how deep he buries it.
✎ᝰ! Size kink (not about body size): he is obsessed with the whole “oh, no it's not gonna fit” thing. He loves the slow, careful process of stretching you open on his fingers first, turning you into a leaky, nonverbal mess long before he finally pushes the fat tip of his length inside you. Nothing gets him harder than watching you struggle to take all of him, reduced to a dumb little thing as he fucks you like you were made for him.
✎ᝰ! Light exhibitionism: Loves filming and taking photos of you two while making love, capturing every detail. He secretly fantasizes about someone finding them and seeing exactly how well he can ruin you.
✎ᝰ! Praise kink: Mostly centered on you. He’s always whispering praise about how well you’re taking him, how gorgeous you look all spread open and dripping for him, how perfectly you squeeze around him.
✎ᝰ! Spit kink: He enjoys both giving and receiving. He loves catching you off guard in non-sexual moments. Pulling you into a dim corner of a museum and telling you to be a good girl and open your mouth for him just to watch you blush. On extremely rare submissive nights, he’ll beg so prettily for you to spit in his mouth.
boyfriend!michael who’s mind you’re living in rent free, not being able to go a day without seeing something that reminds him of his beautiful girl. He sees your favorite flowers? He’ll always put them in the cart even if that wasn’t on his grocery list to begin with. You lost count on how many he’s given you with the dopest smile he’s ever worn.
He sees a necklace in your favorite color? It’s without a doubt getting gifted to you.
“Michael, it’s lovely, but I really don’t need any more..” you lightly try to tell him, although admiring the shine it holds as you move the pendant side to side in the light.
“It’s in your favorite color though, right?”
“Yes, but—“
“Well, there you go.” And that’s how it always ended, because you knew there will never be a day where you manage to successfully convince your boyfriend to stop showering you with gifts that has meaning behind them.
boyfriend!michael who his favorite music to hear isn’t a band he’s fond of, isn’t his own music, but your laughter.
It’s like he makes it his personal mission every single day to hear you laughing at least once, even if it’s just a giggle. During his day he’ll hear a joke he knows for a fact that you’ll find funny, so when he sees you that same night he tells it to you like he completely made it up himself. No credit to the original, because he needs to be the only man in your life that makes you laugh and find hilarious.
boyfriend!michael who never, ever, shuts the hell up about you. Everyone that’s in his life knows so much about you, some people that you haven’t even met, but it’s because Michael takes any chance he sees to bring up your name in conversation.
“My girl absolutely loves those chocolates you’re having.”
“Hey, that’s her favorite song!”
“Do you know how amazing my angel is at this game? She’d kick your ass.”
Nobody dares to tell him to stop gushing over you, because receiving glaring daggers from Michael Jackson isn’t a very pretty sight to see.
boyfriend!michael who, no matter how hard (not) he tries, can’t keep his hands off of you. He ALWAYS has to touch you, whether that’s none other than a gentle hand on your lap with his thumb rubbing lazy circles into your skin, or him snaking his arms around your torso from behind, needing to be as close as possible to watch whatever task you’re doing.
A hand tight on your waist whenever you two are maneuvering in a frenzied crowd, making sure you never leave his side for a mere second.
Him swaying your tangled hands together high enough for his crazed fans to see, to get the silent message across that he’s utterly devoted to you.
How he sometimes smacks your ass as quiet as he could have it be in public, too amused with the way you try to hold back a squeak and attempt to glare up at him with your cute little flustered face.
How it’s a battle every morning to escape his iron grasp, groaning groggily into your neck to stay an extra five minutes in bed.
You never said no each time.
boyfriend!michael who you rarely argue with, but when you guys do, it completely shifts his entire world.
No work gets done for him when the two of you are in the middle of an argument, because that’s all that is flooding his mind. Pacing back and forth, pulling hair to find ways to make it up to you.
boyfriend!michael who found it best to apologize with his mouth.
It’s slow at first, the way he drags his tongue through your soaked cunt, savoring the taste you offer him. You’re sat on the edge of the bed, legs fighting to stay open, yet he’s more than happy to help you with that as his grip is firm, having you take every sorry his tongue silently tells through every dizzying flick and lap.
Your head tips back, mouth agape to let all breathless moans be set free, hips twitching for more. And more he gives you, hooking one leg over his shoulder to have you further open, slipping his tongue inside of you.
“Oh, fuck, Michael…!” You cry, another curse leaving your mouth as you feel the vibration of his groan against your cunt. His eyes flutter open, watching every scrunch of your face, every gorgeous noise you make that goes straight to his hardening cock in his confined jeans. Although it’s not about him right now, it’s about your forgiveness he’s desperately chasing after for.
“I’m so sorry baby, I’m so sorry…” You hear him mumble between your legs, between each circle and suck he gives to your clit. The way he works your clit in rapid, hungry circles, determined to taste every bit of your pleasure, you start to forget what you were even mad at him for earlier today. Almost like that was his plan all along.
“It’s o-okay, Michael, it’s—“ You lose yourself to another moan, the way he presses his mouth harder to you, drugged in the way you can’t think straight.
His tongue moving up and down over your clit with relentless purpose is what finally had you fall apart, the rhythm of your climax fluttering through him, drinking in the way your whole body is shaking under his hands.
He drags it out, licking all the way into the aftershocks, until you place a hand in his hair to get him off once you feel fully wrung out. You feel his lips press kisses to the inside of your thighs, painting his reverence onto your body. You manage to look down after a couple of more ragged gasps, seeing him rest his cheek against the softness of your thigh.
i would love to see desperate/needy otw!mike being pervy while the reader is asleep like oml that would make me go crazy
hellloo i love this yes pervy otw mike is so yummy & you’re a genius because this is so ‘i can’t help it’ from otw coded! i got hella inspired ❤︎
cw: sexual content mdni, thigh fucking, reader is sleeping (somnophilia but no p in v), panty stealing, perv michael duh
michael had always been so dirty and he loved that you never seemed to notice. although you should’ve been more aware of how you ‘lost’ a pair of panties more often than like to admit. whenever you asked michael about it, he’d just plant a kiss on your head and say that you must’ve misplaced them. but he knew fully well that he had soaked pair after pair of your panties in his cum after jerking off with the fabric wrapped around his cock, swearing to himself to replace them but never got around to doing so.
one night you’d fallen asleep comfortably on his couch, head settled on his lap as his eyes focused on the tv. michael smoothed one hand over your hair, stroking it softly. he looked down and noticed your eyes were closed. you looked so sweet sleeping right in front of him, like a precious doll. he focused on the rise and fall of your chest each time you took a breath in your slumber. he noticed how soft your lips looked and how your hair cascaded over your shoulders so perfectly. you were wearing a baby pink nightgown adorned with white lace that fell over your body and curves just right. michael had to contain himself as he slipped the hem of your nightgown up to peek at the matching pink underwear you had on. he swear, he could eat you alive right now.
thankfully you were a deep sleeper, so you didn’t even flinch when michael moved your head from his lap to the couch. he stood up, eyes raking over your sleeping figure. “im sorry, baby…” he muttered out into the silence before undoing the button of his jeans and pulling down the zipper. “just can’t help it. you look so pretty,” he took out his cock, heavy in his hand as he stroked himself over you a few times with a groan.
his eyes settled on your plush thighs that were bare under your nightgown. “fuck, just lemme…” he breathed, pushing his dick between your soft thighs, biting his lip to hold back a moan at the euphoric feeling of your warm skin enveloping him. “oh—you feel so good baby,” he grunted, sliding his cock in and out until he was fucking your thighs harder than he intended, filling the room with soft groans and wet sounds. even in your sleep you had become a mess for him, all warm and sticky between your thighs. “always so good for me,” his thrusts became erratic, bringing a hand up to caress your face, “always so perfect— fuck im close, beautiful,” he managed to tell your dozing body before spilling his cum all over your thighs in thick spurts with a low groan.
michael froze as he felt you stir on the couch, “michael?” you called out in a sleepy voice. he cursed himself silently for not pocketing your panties before you woke up.
content/warnings: quickie smut, jaafar's in his michael makeup, wife! reader, they're currently in tension bc theyre mad with each other, so it lowkey starts angsty but ends steamy and redemption, short but sweet, sub and whiny jaafar YES, dry humping into unprotected sex (hints at breeding kink), fem anatomy described
WC: 4.1k
A/N: i knew as SOON as i saw him post this picture... a fic was incoming LOL. also, i've been getting lots and lots of questionable and hate comments under my account and i'm here to tell all the haters that this is not the page to do so. i will cuss you out AND block you!
You’ve been gnawing at your lip for what seemed the entire car ride- 45 minutes to be exact. You were unsure whether even coming to see your husband at work was the right idea, especially right now. But it was a tradition you both had built since he began filming, and you weren’t planning to break it just because you happened to be mad at him.
The argument started two nights ago over something that should’ve been small but has grown slightly. Due to Jaafar’s new movie, Michael, being a family-oriented production, much of the funding came directly from the Jackson family. Thankfully, most of the older family members had their wealth secured and set, and didn’t dig too deep when investing their funds. The second generation, such as the Jacksons’ kids, including Jaafar, weren’t as wealthy. They had their privileges, of course, but most of the money they made was earned individually. Jaafar had built his wealth through music production and occasional film score composing.
When you got married, you agreed that any major financial decisions would be made together. That was the smartest and most conscious decision. For the five years you two have been married, that deal has been kept. A couple of days ago, however, you received a phone call from your accountant, who let you know that a very large sum had been removed from your account and transferred to someone else. When you double-checked with her to assure it was a mistake, she let you know that Jaafar had signed off on it. You looked into it, and it turns out, Jaafar had contributed his own investment into the film, without double-checking with you. It made your stomach twist with irritation and hurt, but you chose to brush it off till he got home that evening.
You were at the kitchen table, dinner in hand, as the front door opened. Jaafar walked in, throwing his hoodie on the coat rack before making his way into the kitchen. “Hey, baby.” He muttered and reached to press a kiss on your face. You turned slightly, lips hitting your hair instead.
His eyebrows rose in confusion, but he brushed it off, turning to the sink to wash his hands. He took a quick glance at you, searching for anything that could alert him to why you hadn’t greeted him back. “How was your day today?”
You shrugged, food no longer looking appetizing. You set the fork down and picked up the glass of juice. “Could’ve been better.” Jaafar sets his plate down, arms holding his upper body up against the marble-grained countertop. “Why’s that?”
“Why did you take 1 million dollars out of our account and give it to the Estate?” You curtly say, pivoting your body towards Jaafar. You point to the flat screen of your phone against the table, lip twitching in uncertainty. You hated confrontation, and doing it with your favorite person made you hate them even more.
He sighs, shaking his head. He parts his mouth, ready to give an explanation even he knows isn’t enough for you to just leave it alone. “You know my family’s all giving their own shares. I thought it’d be necessary if I did too.”
“Without checking with me?”
“I didn’t think I needed to. With filming going on, we needed more funds for some reshoots we’re doing. I thought it was obvious.”
You scoff, standing from your chair. You stride towards the kitchen, across from Jaafar as he keeps his gaze on you. “We have been asking each other about that kind of stuff for 5 years, Jaafar. Why would it change now?”
He shrugs his shoulders, and his unwillingness to even pretend he can’t see where you’re coming from begins to make your blood boil, but you cross your legs, holding onto the counter for some sort of support, at least.
“I get you want to help your family out, and it is your movie, but you have to let me know. I cannot see that kind of money just being transferred out of our account with no explanation.”
“It’s just money. We’ll get it back, I promise.”
“That’s not the point I’m trying to make, Jaafar, and you know it. It’s the fact that you did it without checking with me first.”
Jaafar picks up his plate and fills it with food. You stand, baffled, unsure whether he was done talking to you. He walks behind you, taking his seat in the chair at the table. You turn, hands raising in confusion. “Are we done discussing this?”
“We’re not discussing anything. You’re arguing with me about it while I’m trying to explain my side.”
“No one’s trying to argue, babe. I’m just letting you know I didn’t feel comfortable with that happening.”
He sighs, eyes closing as he rests his head in his palms, breathing without structure. You cross your arms, feeling defeated. “And I’m letting you know what it’s for. I’m not asking for the money back; we need it. The movie needs it. I need it.”
There’s a slight crack in his voice as he speaks, and you know the pressure of everything is on him. It’s in the tired creases around his melancholy eyes, under the plumpness of his chapped lips. It’s in the small bruises in his hands and knees, dancing for hours till his toes bleed in pleas for a break.
But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s belittling your side of the conversation, so you muster all the courage inside you to shake your head, foot tapping against the tiles under your slippers. “I understand that. I do, I really do. But that amount of money is huge. There’s no excuse for that. We’ve been talking about wanting to try for children soon, yet you make decisions like this behind my back without consulting me first. That hurts, J.”
“It’ll play out when the movie comes out. That money will come back, and more.”
You suppress an eye roll and shrug your shoulders. “Can you even try to apologize and see where I’m coming from?”
“I do see your side, baby, I do. But please, for the sake of peace, see mines too.”
Your heart hurts. You understand he’s deflating the way he is because of pressure, exhaustion, and confusion. But you know you’re right, too. And neither of you is willing to recognize each other’s explanations right now. You take a deep breath and raise your hand. “Fine, then. For the sake of peace, sleep in the guest room.” And with that, you give him one last disappointed look before walking away. For a second, you think he’ll apologize and come after you. But in the next second, your steps stay lonely.
The next morning, Jaafar doesn’t say anything to you before he leaves. He brews you a mug of coffee, but doesn’t leave a note or even bother sending a text message throughout the day to check up on you, like he usually does. You knew the argument could’ve been fixed with a simple apology from him, and maybe a rational thought from you as well, but it was puerile behavior from the two of you now. You reciprocate the same energy by not making him dinner that evening and staying by the pool until he falls asleep. You walked by the guest room and took a quick peek inside. He’s asleep, still dressed in his clothes, even having his shoes on. He’s shivering, and he’s holding the throw pillow tight in his hands. The sight makes your insides turn, in regret and empathy. You shake your head to yourself and walk inside, softly pulling the pillow to the floor. You reach to take his shoes off, and hold his sole carefully, aware of the blisters covering his toes. You throw the blanket on his body, giving his thigh a squeeze before walking away.
“I love you.” His voice is dazed, interrupting your attempt to quietly leave the room.
You hold onto your chest before breathing softly. “I love you. Night.” Your voice is fragile, and even as Jaafar’s hardly awake, he heeds the pain in your voice. It makes the guilt soothe him even more, and he closes his eyes, afraid that if he keeps them open, he’ll shatter into a million pieces.
•┈┈
You park your car in the parking garage, taking a deep breath and holding onto the bag you’ve brought with you. You brought one of Jaafar’s favorite foods, a crispy chicken sandwich from the Honor Bar. It was where he took you for your first date, and you’ve been bringing him lunch every week, as a way to see him amid all the busy hours throughout the work days.
The crew members greet you as always, giving you polite gestures as you walk through the halls with your bags in hand. Your pass is wrapped around your neck, and you check the time on your watch before stopping in front of Jaafar’s door. You bring a hesitant hand to the door before taking a breath, knocking softly against the wood. You wait a beat before opening the door, and feel the breath you’ve been holding in release on its own. Your occupied hand trembles, and you feel your body betraying you as you force your mouth shut.
Jaafar is in front of his vanity, a small mirror mounted on the wall, with bright, intense lights highlighting the details of his face. He’s dressed so elegantly, still in costume. His makeup and hair still intact, and despite visiting him for so long, you’ve never actually seen him in costume. Not so still, at least. And alone.
You hate the fact that there’s a flicker of disbelief in his face, one that he masks with relief. You give him a small smile and clear your throat. “Hi.”
“Hi, baby.”
“You look shocked to see me here. Not sure I like that.” You close the door and turn the lock as you take a seat on the couch across from Jaafar.
He opens his mouth, gazing into your eyes as he removes the sparkling white glove from his hand. “I figured we’d still be… you know. I think I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
There’s a small scoff that escapes from you, but you follow it with a tut. You cross your legs, tapping your fingers against your knee. “How are your hopes now?”
Jaafar bites his inner lip, tugging at the tag on his pants as a distraction. “Undeserving.”
You take his mutter into consideration, cognizant of the tone as he waited for your response. You hum, dipping your head as your eyes remain locked with his. “We have to talk about it eventually. Now, preferably. I don’t want our food to get cold.”
He softly breaths, an attempt at expressing a sense of humor, but he’s too emotional to do so. “I’m sorry for my behavior these past few days. For a while, actually.” You give him a nod, an acknowledgment of the understanding of what he means.
“The process for creating this film, and bringing it to life, has become such an overwhelming process. I got so wrapped up in trying to figure things out the way all these experienced people have done before that I thought I could do it, too. In doing so, I went against our core vows and have hurt you in the process. That was never my intention, baby. I truly am so sorry for the way I've acted over the past few days. I gave you space because I know we both needed that more than anything. But I missed you so fucking much, I was going crazy.” Jaafar’s voice cracks numerous times, and he feels the top of his lip wet with several tears. He doesn’t care to let the emotion come to life, because he deserves to feel the regret he came to terms with the moment he saw you walk away.
There’s no sound in the room besides your heavy breathing, and it takes every restrictive power in you to stop you from standing and shoving Jaafar’s delicate face into your chest. The tears streaming down his face break you so gently. You taste the sweat under your chin as you bring it to your lips, moving anxiously under Jaafar’s red eyes.
“I’m sorry for not being willing to see your side, baby. I think I always did, but I was mad at you for being so stubborn.” You whisper, eyes slightly dipping in mendacious tautness as your husband gives you a concurring nod.
He dabs at his face, attempting to wipe any tears off his prosthetics before he continues speaking. “You wouldn’t have to feel that way if it weren’t for me. I’m so sorry, sweet girl.”
The nickname breaks you of any restraint, and your body rises before your mind alerts you. You close the short distance between the two of you and wrap your arms around Jaafar’s sequenced shoulders, rubbing at any previous rigidness with consoling devotion and pardon. He feels the way only your unique and soothing touch can bring him back to life fully, and he closes his eyes, a quiet moan escaping him. It was quiet under the heavy breathing that was transpiring from his mouth, which you almost didn’t catch. Almost.
“Now, now, I forgive you, baby. I missed you, too.” There’s a commanding intonation in the manner you hum against Jaafar’s styled hair, and suddenly the friction between the two of you grows desperate. This was secretly your favorite part after all the worries are no more, and the things you have said to one another are gone. Somehow, it always got to that point. Where sincere apologies are made, and you drop the authoritarian act, and become authoritative. The anger is no longer quiet screaming, but instead moans of passion. In some way, you sometimes wonder if this unbreakable habit is wrong, but it always gets to that point somehow. Where your clothes become half-off, and all the pent-up frustration becomes released through ruts and rushed kisses.
There’s a twitch in Jaafar’s hardening cock as he hears the tone in your seductive syllables, and he forces his hand against the pinch of your waist to relax. He slightly pulls his head away from your chest and throws his head back. “We’re done filming for the day, in this costume. I’m ‘posed to be taking this makeup off, actually.”
You hum in reply to his piteous mumble and bring your fingers across Jaafar’s face, fixating on every detail of his features. The makeup team took their time in ensuring his face was exact to what his uncle’s details were, and you ran your fingers extra carefully on the parts you noticed were made with additional caution. It was something so alluring about seeing Jaafar in this costume and makeup- it was almost like it was another version of him you never knew you could access. But having him under your touch, legs on either side of his perfectly built thighs, made your core begin to moist with seduction and satisfaction- a guilty pleasure, if truth be told. “Is that so? And here I was, having some time to watch how beautiful you look in that makeup.”
Jaafar would never get used to the way you would confidently call his beauty out. He knew he was a pretty man, but hearing the words come out of your lips, the ones he loved to run his tongue against, was another form of a tantalizing rush down his cock, quickening his pulse until his mind would become foggy, control no longer his. “Can you help me take it off, then? Please, baby?”
A double glance at the locked door is all it takes for your lips to crash against Jaafar’s. Your tongue swirls against his, desperate savoring evident in your hoarse exhales. Your hands run along the back of his head, textured curls tangled in between your fingers. There’s a soft piece caught between your ring as you pull, which makes Jaafar whine. The cry is frenzied, and a smirk crawls on your lips. His hands began to fondle with whatever plumpness of your body he could find, wanting to capture whatever he could knead.
Every clash against your mouth is an unspoken plea Jaafar begs for sonorously. He needs more, and despite the wetness of his pre-cum you feel against the material of your bottoms, the distance is too much. He knows there’s a time limit that the two of you have to fool around before work begins again, and the warmth that circulates throughout his body is enough sampling to thrill him for more. He takes a shameful swallow before lifting his hips up, readjusting himself in the chair, and gripping onto your hip bone. He laps at your lip as he moves your body against his own, the drag of your clothed cunt against his own cock melting flawlessly. You grind onto his lap with erratic snaps, eyes rolling back with elation. The thrums against your skin become too much, and you pull off your top, crashing Jaafar’s face into your chest. He does his job in nipping at the softness of your breasts, ensuring a mark is left with a desperate lick. His patterns become overstimulating, so you pull down your bra and keen in roil as his teeth graze over your nipples.
Jaafar silently begs to whoever is listening to his intoxicating mind to allow him to remain in this bliss forever. His eyes trace over the transfer of his makeup against the sweat on your skin, and that sight is the most captivating thing he’s ever seen on you. He feels his hair stick onto his skin, but his focus remains on the bounce of your breasts, every hump against the curve of his cock enveloping him in a trance he never wants to snap out of, not even when he feels his release begin to build up.
You feel the metal of his zipper hit your clothed pussy, and the sensation makes your button tingle with electricity. You feel your slick continue to swell, pleating against your folds. Your jerks are intense, like a personal workout your body appreciates you’ve decided to take. Your eyes open for a slight minute, stuck on the way, Jaafar’s eyes remain riveted on your body. You let out a sharp intake of breath, feeling a tiny bit of drool threaten to escape from the side of your mouth. The consciousness only grows because Jaafar’s eyes begin to well up with tears. Overstimulating tears, the ones that you know he’ll let out the second your walls enclose around his bare cock.
He gives a soft croak as his eyes dip, greed entering his body as he cups your breast. “More, more, more.” Every whine is hasty, yearning for a release. He doesn’t care that his underwear will be sticky once he pulls it down his legs, or the fact that the very expensive costume pants he’s wearing will be ruined with your slick. Jaafar’s only focus is on the rapid darts of his tongue on you. He watches the way your mouth parts open, your head bobbing with every lap he gives you.
He feels the release threatening to snap, so he uses all his force to grip onto your hips even harsher, approving of every pornographic bounce you lay on him. “I need to cum.” He whines against your skin, and you bring your mouth to his ear, softly licking his lobe as your hand runs down his neck and onto his jacket, gripping the material beneath it. The small conscious part of your mind is aware he’s still in costume, and will most likely have to return it once he’s done using it.
The bigger portion of your consciousness, however, only cares about the intense throbs of your cunt, because you give him a laudatory nod, melting at the way your skin burns so perfectly under Jaafar’s reckless hold. Your husband instantly uses his green light and cries, moaning like an animal in heat as his release fills his pants, wet and slick, and begins to run through onto your thighs. Your release comes seconds after, and your bounces slow down, legs spasming with exhaustion.
Your heavy breaths blend, and you bring your hand hurriedly to his pants, unzipping the material, fingers wetting with Jaafar’s cum. You bring a finger rapidly to your mouth and lick it, humming at the taste. Jaafar swears he feels more spill out of his tip, so he brings his hands to help pull his cock out as you stand and step out of your pants, not caring to do the same with your panties. You pull those to the side and keep one hand on Jaafar’s shoulder, breath hitched as you sink down on his cock. Every inch is an eyeroll you give, and before you know it, you’re both immediately swallowed by warmth. There’s a hint of pain, so you use the adjustment to his size to bring your lips to his neck, licking at his sweet spot.
“Thank you, my sweet girl. Thank you.” The tightness disappears into pleasure, and you move slowly. You begin to grind against his shaft, building up slick before you begin to quicken your pace. His hands come up to your face, and your features fit so perfectly against his large palms.
“You’re doing so good for me, for us, my baby. I love you. You always do so great. I admire you, my sweet love.” Every word hits you deeper than his cock, and your body instinctively begins to build an unrelenting tempo, every ride against his perfect cock massaging your walls. It makes your body yearn for more, more than what you’re bucking for.
Every bounce on him becomes a precise beat, hips smacking against one another at the same time. Your fingers run under Jaafar’s eyes, tears slickening them as you softly smirk. “All these tears, just for me, hm?”
He nods without hesitation, cock hitting every spot so perfectly. “Yes, m’am.” Oh god, could he be any more perfect for you? You hum against his skin, watching the ways his curls move against the rhythm you’ve both set, and it makes you fuse grow even quicker.
Jaafar grips both sides of your hips, eyes focused on the way his cock slips in and out of you. Watching the way your cunt is so perfectly stuffed by him, it makes his hunger grow. He takes hold of the control, thrusting himself into you with pounds so heavy and filling, you feel it penetrate you mercilessly. His mouth opens before he can think about what he’s about to say, yet he feels no regret. “I want to cum inside you and put a baby in you. Can I do that? Please? Will you let me stuff you full, sweet girl?” Your moans become inconsolable, and you nod your head, unwilling to care about the reality of what this will mean for both of you. Your legs begin to shudder, and you give warning taps against Jaafar’s face as he nods.
His thrusts become frantic, wanting to make sure you feel the need in every vein inside you, in every rut as he begins to fill you. He directs your hand to your nipple, and you pinch it, and your vision becomes spotty. Your mouth parts, and your back arches as Jaafar’s hips jerk against you. His whines grow louder, and you take every single one in memory as he spills inside you, painting you like a piece he wishes to admire forever. His tired eyes come down to your opening, and he watches in awe as his release spills outside your cunt and down your legs.
You fall onto his chest, knees limp as Jaafar brings his hands to your back, soothing it in a familiar pattern. A wave of aftershock washes over you for some time, so you’re silent, body slightly twitching from the sputters undone.
Jaafar pulls your head off his chest with care, pressing kisses against your face as he whispers comforting praises. It makes you melt, and your walls begin to flutter as he softly twitches inside you. His pupils are dilated, and the sight of his wet, dark, beautiful eyes makes you lean forward, relaxing your mouth against his.
“Sweet girl.” He mutters against you, stroking the softness of your neck as your breathing calms down, no longer past the normal beat.
There are no words, no sound. Just breaths, just nearness. Just Jaafar’s familiar hand brushing his thumb over your knuckles, just existing quietly in a now sacred space you’ll both remember for a lifetime. It’s a moment you begin to already detail your mind over, resting your open palm calmly over your husband’s even heartbeat, a pulse that he gentles with passionate vulnerability.
summary: you accidentally walk in on what seems to be your boyfriend calling you “clingy”, leading to you avoiding him for a week. michael basically falls apart
content: miscommunication/misunderstanding, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end guys!! i cant deal with sad michael :((
word count: around 2k
a/n: YES i got inspiration to make this from after all by jimmy osmond! i love that song lol ok anyways enjoy the fic bye
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon.
The kind where everything moves slower and no ones in a rush to be anywhere.
You knew that michael had rehearsal earlier in the day and was probably eating lunch with his family given that you had spoken on the phone with him the night before.
Oh how you were so in love with him.
Even with Michael's busy schedule, he always found some way to make time for you. Whether it was hours spent on the phone after a long day or quiet afternoons together at home, you had become his comfort just as much as he had become yours.
The two of you were constantly on the phone which is why you knew he was finishing up some of his work right around this time.
Because of this, you decided to head down to Hayvenhurst. Maybe you could have lunch with him, steal a few hours of his afternoon, and have some much needed time with your oh so loving boyfriend.
When you finally reached his house, you let yourself in with the key Michael insisted you have.
“I want you to know you’re welcome here anytime, baby” “Come over whenever you want. Don’t even worry about knocking.”
“Are you sure, Michael? I wouldn't want to intrude-”
“Of course I’m sure,” “You could never intrude.”
A small smile had tugged at his lips as he squeezed your hand.
“I’m always gonna want you here with me.”
And he meant it.
Atleast you thought he did.
That was why you never hesitated now when you walked through those doors.
You could hear the laughs of some of the brothers in the kitchen so you made your way there assuming thats where you would find your boyfriend.
And as you were about to step into the kitchen you heard your name.
You stopped.
Not because you were trying to listen.
But Michael’s voice caught your attention before you even had the chance to announce yourself.
“She’s just…. really clingy sometimes.”
Your smile slowly faded.
Clingy.
The word sat heavy in your chest in a way you didn’t expect. You weren’t clingy, were you? I mean sure you did love spending all your free time with Michael and sure, you checked in on him throughout the day but you assumed he liked it too, right?
Apparently not.
So you quietly turned around and drove home before you could even hear what he had to say next.
Normally, you would have called Michael as soon as you got home.
But your phone stayed untouched on your nightstand by your bed.
You set your things down, changed into something more comfortable, and sat on the edge of your bed for longer than you meant to.
It was silly.
You knew that.
But the word kept replaying in your mind.
Clingy.
A small tear slipped down your cheek before you even realized you were crying and you stayed like that for awhile.
It wasn’t until the next day that michael finally decided to call you.
You still answered, but you weren’t as eager to fill the silence afterward.
“Hello?”
“Baby!” He sounded so excited, why was he so excited?
His voice immediately softened something in you.
“Hi, Michael.” There was a small pause on the other end of the line, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could already imagine the way his brows furrow slightly when something was bothering him.
“You okay?” The question made your fingers tighten slightly around your phone. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
It came out too quickly.
“I’m just tired,” you added, trying to make it sound more believable. Another quiet moment passed. Normally, neither of you ever struggled to find something to say. There was always another reason to keep the conversation going.
“You’re quiet,” he finally said.
“I’m just tired.” you reemphasized.
Michael hummed, clearly not completely convinced, but he didn’t push.“You’re not coming over today?”
You looked down at your hands. “I don’t know. I figured you were probably tired.”
“I am tired,” Michael admitted, a small laugh slipping into his voice. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you.”
“..”
“Baby…”
You could hear the concern in his voice, and that almost made it harder.
“I’m okay, Michael,” you said quickly. “Really. I think I’m just gonna rest today.”
Normally, Michael would have asked what was wrong and kept asking until you finally opened up. But something about the way you said it made him hesitate, leaving him unsure whether he should push or give you the space you seemed to be asking for.
“You sure you don’t want me to come by?” “I’m sure.”
A pause.
“Okay.” The disappointment in his voice was small, but you still noticed it.
“I’ll call you later, okay?” he said. “Okay.”
Another silence followed, one that felt too long for two people who were usually so comfortable with each other.
“Alright, baby. Get some rest.”
“Bye, Michael.” You hung up before he could say anything else and for a moment, you just stared at the phone in your hand.
The rest of your days during the week consisted of you and Michael basically playing cat and mouse.
He would call, like he always did, but you would let the phone ring a few extra times before finally answering. The conversations were never long anymore, your replies careful and excuses ready whenever there was a chance he might ask what had changed.
Michael noticed.
Eventually, he started coming by your house, sometimes with flowers or something small he thought you would like, hoping you would open the door and tell him what was wrong. But every time, you found yourself staying quiet, pretending you weren’t home until he finally left.
You knew you were avoiding him.
You also knew you didn’t really know how else to handle the hurt you were carrying.
Mike on the other hand, had spent the entire week trying to convince himself that he was overthinking it.
That maybe you really were just tired. Maybe you were busy. Maybe there was some simple explanation for why your voice sounded different every time he called and why you suddenly seemed like you were always finding a reason not to see him.
But the more days that passed, the harder it became to believe that.
By the end of the week, it had become impossible for Michael to convince himself that everything was fine.
He tried throwing himself into work the way he always did. Dance rehearsals, recording sessions, meetings. Normally, they were enough to keep his mind occupied.
This time, they weren't.
His thoughts always seemed to find their way back to you.
He replayed your conversations over and over, searching for something he might have missed. Had he forgotten something important? Had he said something carelessly? Was he working too much? He couldn't think of a single reason why the person who he revolved his days to be around suddenly couldn't bear to look at him.
His brothers noticed too.
"You alright?" Marlon asked one afternoon as the two of them sat around the kitchen island.
Michael looked up from the plate he had barely touched.
"Yeah."
Marlon raised an eyebrow.
"You don't sound too sure."
Michael sighed quietly, bringing his hands up to cover his face. "I think... I think something's wrong."
"What happened?"
"I don't know."
That was the part that bothered him most.
"I keep asking her if she's okay, and she says she is, but she barely answers my calls anymore. When she does, she's off the phone in five minutes." He looked down at the table, "I went by her apartment twice this week."
"And?"
"She didn't answer."
A silence filled the room.
"I don't think she's mad at me," Michael admitted after a moment. "If she was mad, she'd tell me. She always tells me… she’s just, distant."
Marlon frowned.
"So what are you gonna do?"
Michael didn't answer right away.
After a long moment, he looked up.
"I'm going back."
"And if she still doesn't answer?"
He stood from the table, ready to ask Bill to take him to what was naturally his second home.
"Then I'll keep trying til’ she does."
────୨ৎ────
The knock came just after lunch.
You didn't have to look through the window to know who it was. For a long moment you stared at the front door while the house remained completely silent around you.
Another knock.
Gentler this time.
You closed your eyes for a second before letting out a quiet breath and reaching for the doorknob. When the door opened, Michael was standing exactly where you expected him to be.
He looked tired.
Not the kind of tired that came from rehearsals or long nights in the studio, but the kind that settled behind someone's eyes after they had spent too many nights wondering what they had done wrong.
His expression softened the moment he saw you.
"...Hi sweetheart."
"Hi."
Neither of you moved.
"I, um..." Michael glanced down for a second before holding out the small bouquet he'd been carrying. "These are for you."
You hesitated before taking them.
"Thank you."
"Can I come in?"
You stepped aside without saying a word.
Now he stood awkwardly in the middle of your living room, unsure if he should sit down or keep standing.
You placed the flowers on the counter and folded your arms loosely across yourself.
Michael looked down for a moment, his fingers brushing over the edge of his sleeve before he finally looked back at you.
"I don't really know where to start.. I just know that something's different."
The words were softer than you expected.
"I've been trying to figure it out all week, and I keep thinking maybe I did something wrong. Maybe I said something, or maybe I haven't been making enough time for you, or maybe..." He paused, letting out a quiet breath as he shook his head. "I don't know. I keep going over everything, but I can't find anything."
You looked away.
Michael noticed.
He always noticed.
"I miss you," he admitted. "And I know that probably sounds so stupid because it's only been a week, but it feels like you've been pulling away from me for so much longer than that."
"I didn't want to bother you."
Michael's eyebrows pulled together.
"Bother me?"
You swallowed.
"I just thought maybe you needed some space."
The confusion on his face only grew.
"Space from you?"
You didn't answer.
The silence told him more than words did.
Michael took a small step closer, his hands coming up to cup your jawline.
"Baby, why would you think that?"
You looked at him, trying to find the right words.
"I heard you."
Michael went still.
"What?"
"At your house Michael."
The room suddenly felt much quieter.
"I wasn't trying to listen," you rushed to explain. "I was just coming over for lunch, and I heard you talking with your brothers."
Michael's expression shifted, confusion slowly replacing itself with realization. "What did you hear?" he says your name softly.
You hesitated.
"I heard you say I was clingy."
For a moment, Michael didn't say anything.
Then his face softened.
"Oh, mama."
The way he said it almost made it harder.
"I thought..." Your voice caught slightly. "I thought I was too much for you."
Michael immediately shook his head.
"No."
"No, no, that's not what I meant."
He pulled your head close to his, making sure you were looking at him, his expression filled with regret.
"Y/n, you didn't hear the rest of it."
You frowned slightly.
"The rest?"
Michael nodded.
"I was talking to my brothers because I was trying to explain how much I love having you around. I was telling them that you're always here, that you always want to spend time with me, and I was laughing because I realized I'm the exact same way."
A small, sad smile crossed his face. "I said you were clingy because I love that about you."
You stared at him. "I love that you call me after a long day. I love that you come over so we can watch movies together. I love that I get to know all the little things about your life because you want to tell me."
His voice softened.
"I didn't mean clingy like it was a bad thing."
You looked away, feeling the weight of the misunderstanding finally start to lift.
"I thought you were getting tired of me."
Michael's expression changed immediately. "Sweetheart, I spent this entire week thinking you were leaving me."
The honesty in his voice made you really look at him.
"I thought maybe you had finally realized that being with me is too much. I thought maybe I was asking too much from you, that with the album and my career.. It was getting too intense for you."
You stared at him for a moment, your heart aching at the thought that he had spent the entire week carrying that fear by himself.
“Michael,” you said softly.
His eyes lifted back to yours.
“I wasn’t leaving you.”
The words came out immediately, because you needed him to hear them.
“I wasn’t thinking about ending anything. I was just hurt and I thought I was giving you what you wanted. I just misunderstood you. I should’ve talked to you instead of disappearing, i’m sorry.”
Michael looked down at your intertwined hands, his thumb brushing over yours.
“I missed you.”
A small smile tugged at your lips.
“I missed you too.”
“Really?”
You almost laughed.
“Mikey, I spent the whole week trying not to call you. Do you know how hard that was?”
That finally got a real smile out of him.
“I had a feeling.”
You rolled your eyes softly.
For the first time in days, you both looked completely at ease.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you too.” you repeated back again.
And finally, after a week of missed calls and avoiding each other, you closed the space between you.
The kiss was soft, like both of you were making sure this was real. But it didn’t take long for the relief of having each other back to settle in.
A week without him had felt much longer than it should have.
When you pulled away, Michael kept his arms around your waist, holding you close like he was making up for every moment he spent thinking he was losing you.
“I really missed this,” he murmured.
You smiled against him.
“I did too.”
“No more secretly disappearing because you think I need space.”
You laughed. “Okay.”
“Good,” he said, pulling you closer. “Because I was starting to think my girlfriend was trying to break up with me without telling me.”
“Michael,” you giggled harder this time.
“I’m just saying,” he teased. “Very rude way to find out.”
a/n: OKAY would yall believe me if I said I sat down for like 8 hours today trying to finish this bc i did! im like actually proud of myself lol like omg especially w my adhd too like wow im amazing but anyways lets just ignore any grammer mistakes here bc im too lazy to fix them rn
summary: a drunken night out causes michael to end up giving in to his sexual desires after several months of denying you due to his religious beliefs.
warnings: heavy smut, drunken sex (unprotected), virgin!michael (yes again), sub!michael towards the end, mentions of alcohol use, accidental creampie, both !m and !f oral receiving, soft dom!reader, religion & values, sloppy makeout sesh, themes of guilt, michael’s obsessed with your tittieeesss,
a/n: back with some dirty shit
— side note, this fic idea is not meant to take advantage of, disrespect, or exploit michael’s personal beliefs/religion! Any portrayals are wrote solely on the basis of fan-fiction. 🩷
𑣲masterlist/taglist
You & Michael are approximately 2 hours deep into this unexpected night, tipsy & staggered from the multiple drinks you’ve been bought from various people. Pulsing fluorescent lights reflect off your tanned skin as you move fluidly to the music, a sheen coat of sweat covering your bare arms from the humidity of the room.
Michael hadn’t been on the dance floor yet despite your pleas, he’s still a little shy even when he’s drunk. Instead, he’d prefer to watch you as he sat at the bar, sipping on some mysterious liquor Quincey had brought him. His thick curls stuck to his temples from everyone’s body heat pooling in the room, yet he still kept his flannel shirt buttoned up right to the top.
You’d look over your shoulder at him occasionally, relishing in the way he’d ogle at the lower half of your body with an unconscious bite of his lip. Or when he’d giggle around the rim of his glass when you’d gyrate your hips in his direction intentionally, showing off the curve of your ass in your jeans.
You’d love to tease him like that, testing his endurance. Michael was a faithful, religious man. He believed in the avoidance of sexual & lustful acts before marriage. He grew up around that motive all his life, especially with his family. But he’s an adult now with his own choices, yet he’s still stuck in the mindset of a 15 year old boy who has to follow the rules, or has to abide by what his parents taught him. He doesn’t fully realise he is his own man now, & his natural love for women doesn’t help.
He’d deny himself for months, stopping when things got too intimate with you, or made him feel something he didn’t know how to handle. It’s not like he didn’t want to, you’d feel the stiffness of his cock poke your thigh every time you two were making out, or even simply cuddling. But whenever you were just about to make it to the inside of his pants, he’d stop you politely, taking your hand away.
“Baby, not yet,” he’d always say.
Alas, being Michael’s girl was a positive experience. You got to live the upper-echelon life, such as being invited to private parties in Beverly Hills by people who worked alongside him. At first, Michael didn’t even want to go to this party, said it’s not his thing. You were in the middle, you wanted to get him out of his comfort zone & have fun for the night since you two weren’t up to much. In the end, you had convinced him enough to go, so here you were.
Michael turns his head, his trance broken as he hears a muffled voice call his name. It’s a trendy young man, probably successful or famous. He looks like he has money, though Michael doesn’t seem to know him. But of course, everyone knows Michael. The man’s smiling with all teeth, holding out his hand for a handshake.
Michael takes his hand immediately, smiling back as they share a quick & rough pat on the back.
“Love your music, man!” He shouts over the speakers.
Michael semi-yells a thank you that comes out louder & sloppier than expected. He averts his gaze back to you, already distracted by your femininity. Your hands flay in the air as your hair paints your face, you’re loving every second.
“That y'girl?” He shouts near Michael's ear.
Michael snaps his head at him & nods like he’s proud to say yes.
“Yeah, that’s my girl. Beautiful ain’t she?” He practically says to himself, his voice high and sweet. His half-lidded drunken eyes stay glued on you.
The man throws him a small nod of approval, a playful smirk on his face.
“Damn right she is. Treat her right, man. In both ways if y’know what I mean.” He laughs, nudging him.
Michael lets his words hang in the air for a few seconds before laughing back, not quite sure why he’s laughing. Deep down, he wants you so damn bad. He craves you, he hates that he can’t have you yet. He feels embarrassed that he can’t provide that side of intimacy to his girl as a man. But god, if he could, he knew that embarrassment would vanish in no time.
Before Michael could fully respond, the man was strutting away, yelling at someone else. What he said made something shift in his brain, giving him a surge of confidence. How can he sit away from something so beautiful? He tips the last drops of his drink down his throat before placing it on the bar table with a clank. You see him walk over to you on the dance floor with an anticipative yet hungry look on his face. Your face lights up in surprise as he gets closer, doing a reeling motion with your hands. He chuckles from slight embarrassment.
As soon as he reaches you he places his hands on the small of your waist, rubbing absentmindedly. He looks at you like you’re the only girl in his world, like you’re a gift from God. He leans down towards your ear, moving the hair away,
“I missed you.” He whispers hoarsely, you can smell the alcohol on his hot breath.
You feel heat pool to your cheeks, a small smile creeping up the edges of your glossy lips.
“I missed you too, finally decided to come over huh?”
You place your hands on his shoulders as you push yourself up to pepper a kiss on his cheek. The second your lips were about to touch his face, he turns his head to meet you in the middle for a messy kiss, stealing the air from your lungs. His breath hitches immediately, his brows furrowing as he pushes his body flush against yours, his hands growing tighter as they grab the fat of your hips.
He wastes no time in opening his mouth & wrapping his tongue around yours. His chest heaves as he tilts his head to the side, making an impossible attempt to deepen the kiss & get closer. You were caught off guard by his forwardness, he never usually initiated makeouts first, it was always you. You weren’t complaining though. You’d been waiting months for this energy, & now that is was finally here you were practically buzzing.
You sling your arms over his shoulders, connecting your hands around the back of his neck as you kiss him back with the same amount of desperation. The tips of your fingers play with his curls at the nape of his neck as you hum pleasantly on his lips.
You feel Michael’s breaths fall shallow, panting in your mouth as the same feeling he’d usually try to avoid starts to crescendo inside of him. That’s when you feel something hard poking on your thigh, you knew it was him.
You break the kiss breathlessly, a thin glistening line of your mixed salvia snapping.
“Michael—“ you mumble. You look down between his legs.
The sight before you has you frozen. His bulge swells beneath his brown courdroy pants as if it wants to escape, almost looking painful. His chest continues to rise & fall as he looks down, instinctively covering it with one hand.
“M’ sorry, just want you so bad. I don’t know why I feel like this tonight,” he says sloppily, his lips puffy & wet.
He can barely stand on two feet, constantly swaying from side to side. You giggle as you put your hands on his chest to steady him, the little circles you trace making him swallow. His eyes are glassy under the light, laced with this lust & neediness that you secretly love. You wanted to put him out of his misery so badly — but he’d never let you.
“How much did you drink tonight?” You tease, your voice as sweet as candy.
“A lot, I think.”
Your hands make your way to the top button of his shirt, attempting to undo it. His hand flies to yours to stop it.
“What are you doin'?” He giggles.
“Relax baby, It’s just so hot in here, are you not burning up in this?” you say smoothly.
You knew that wasn’t the only reason. You just wanted to loosen him up, step by step. He lets his hand down as he watches you undo his top button, then the second, then the third. His exposed chest glows under the fluorescent lights, deep & rich in color.
You run a hand along his bare skin, looking at him for any sign of discomfort. You don’t find any, for once he doesn’t look that nervous at all. His hands find your hips again, pulling you in against his frame as he gnaws on his bottom lip. He leans forward towards your neck, drawing in a deep inhale through his nose. Your sweet feminine scent drives him crazy. The way his warm breath gently grazes your neck gives you goosebumps. You squeeze your thighs as you feel your cunt start to pulsate.
“Do you always smell this lovely?” He whispers against you as he continues smelling your neck area like a feline.
“Baby, what’s gotten into you?” You chuckle.
You just stand there, letting him smother himself all over you. If you’re being honest, his sudden wave of confidence threw you off guard, now you’re the one all nervous.
You gently slide one of your hands in between your glued bodies, making your way to his thighs. Your other hand on his lower back. You caress one gently, the sensation immediately making him wince. He flutters his eyes shut as he leans forward to press his lips against yours, not knowing what to do with himself.
You both end up deepening the kiss, the sides of your mouth growing wet. He whimpers your name into your lips as if he’s physically struggling to contain something. He pulls away a mere inch just enough to murmur,
“God help me.”
You feel him lightly grab your hand, moving it lower & lower until it reaches his bulge. Your eyes shot up at him, twinkling with mischief. That’s the last thing you expected him to do.
His forehead falls onto yours as he presses your palm against his cock, rewarding a low & relieving groan from his throat. He feels like rock in your grasp, making you salivate. Thank god you’re practically in the dark. You can feel his entire shaft as if there's no material on it, that's how erect he is. You give it a singular stroke from bottom to top, causing his mouth to fall agape.
“Mikey—“
“Let’s go home, I’ll call a cab” he plants a kiss on your collarbone, then on your lips, “Please.”
This is the first time Michael’s ever made a move like that. That was the first time you’d ever felt him down there, your heart skipped a beat the second you touched it. You’ve dreamt of that moment for months, him being all needy for your touch.
Michael called a cab the second you agreed to leave, rushing outside as he held your hand tight. You didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone, his first priority was to get you home.
You gave the cab driver a hard time when you got in. You were all over each other on the ride home. You were both already spent, breathless & hot as you rammed your tongues down each other's throats, occasionally missing due to the darkness of the backseat. You could tell Michael was still trying to keep things safe, only making out with you. Not touching your 'lady parts' or anything, as he would call them. His hands would tremble as he held your shoulders tight, pushing his face into yours. You slide your hands under his flannel shirt, running your hands over his taut n’ clammy abdomen.
Kissing was the only thing he knew, the only thing he could do without feeling sinful. So it makes sense why his kisses feel so heated & desperate, his body needs more, yet it’s like he’s only restricted himself for kissing.
The red light at the junction illuminates the back seat, temporarily revealing your faces to each other. Michael looks down at your chest, your breasts almost falling out of your skimpy little top. He gently touches your necklace hanging above your cleavage, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"So beautiful, you're heaven-sent." He says, his voice cracking from being unused for the past 20 minutes of straight kissing.
When the taxi finally pulled up outside the house, Michael was already reaching for the door handle before the engine had fully settled. He shot a look at you, his face full of nerves & anticipation. You couldn’t help the smile that crept up on your face.
“Thank you,” you tell the driver. Michael was already out the car in a hurry, waiting on you.
Neither of you said anything as you scurried onto the front porch, desperate to be alone together. Michael drops the keys as he tries to get the lock open as soon as possible.
You didn’t quite know what it was Michael was rushing for, you had an idea, yet it seemed completely unrealistic given his morals.
Finally, he manages to get the front door open, ushering you in first before shutting it behind him with a slam.
He places the keys on the console table, turning to you. He burries his face into your neck, his hands running down your thighs. You laugh breathlessly, looking down at the floor.
“You’re gonna have to tell me to stop cus’ I can’t keep my hands off you, I’m sorry.” Michael cooes, his pants feeling tighter around his crotch again.
Telling him to stop was the last thing on your mind, that would be absurd. You look up at him through your lashes, puckering your lips a little, toying with him.
“I like it,” you whisper.
You plant a kiss on the sweet spot of his neck. His scent is warm & alluring, notes of fresh soap, vanilla, & a night out. You twist your head more, opening your mouth as you let your tongue glide wetly against his supple skin.
He’s never been kissed on the neck by you before, so the feeling immediately makes him freeze & contract, his eyes threatening to roll back to his head.
“Oh my—“ He whimpers.
He pulls away before you can get into it, grabbing your both your hands.
“Come upstairs with me.” He asks you, his words slurred as he starts to pull you towards the stairs.
You both make it to your bedroom, but it’s pitch black. You hear Michael click the door shut. Neither of you say anything for a second, the tension is thick in the air. You feel your cunt start to dampen due to the anticipation.
You stumble across the floor towards where you think your bedside lamp would be, you find it & flip the switch. The lamp casts a dim amber atmosphere. As soon as Michael sees where you are, he walks towards you, guiding you to the bed by your waist.
He plops himself down on the mattress, keeping his hands on you firmly. You stand between his open legs as you stroke his head, he looked so cute like this. His big brown eyes stay fixed on yours, never faltering. He moves his hands higher up your waist so they’re sitting a little below your breasts.
“What is it you want, Mikey?” You say just below a whisper, tilting your head.
“I want you.”
His voice is laced with confusion, like he feels ashamed to even admit such an obvious thing. He can’t help his boyish urges, it’s only biological & one can only take so much before it cracks.
His hands travel to the bottom of your shirt, lifting it up to reveal your bare stomach. He plays with your belly button piercing first, giving it a little kiss. He continues to drag his face along your skin, his breath hitching as he peppers kisses at the same time, his lips felt burning hot against you.
You drop your head back slightly at the feeling, muttering his name as your hands stay in his hair.
He leans away, starting to pull up your shirt slow & steady. He looks at you as if to earn your approval. You hum in agreement as you help him lift your shirt off, leaving you in your white laced bra, your t-shirt forgotten on the floor.
Michael gawks at your plumpy breasts, his eyes darting back & fourth from them to your face, as if he can’t believe you’re real. The fit was a little too small for you, so the tops were on the verge of falling out which didn’t help him.
You reach around as you begin to unclasp your bra, startling him.
He looked like a deer in headlights, about to freak out or something. You place one hand on his cheek, stroking him with your thumb.
“You wanna see them?” You ask, your voice wooing him deeper.
Michael nods slowly, looking a little ashamed. He can’t even utter the courage to physically say yes, like if he does he’d be struck down.
You return your hand to your clasp, undoing it completely. Your full, perky breasts fall free once the material falls, sitting neatly in-front of his face while your nipples stiffen up from your arousal.
Michael’s gawks at them, his lips slightly parted. He didn’t know what to do with this sweet piece of ass in front of him, he couldn’t handle it. He’s never seen a naked woman in front of him before. Sure, he’d seen them when he’d flip through Playboy magazines in secret before he met you, but never in person. He’d always feel guilty for simply looking, or for the way his cock would twitch.
“They’re so pretty.”
“Thank you, honey. You can feel them if you want.” You reply.
You take his hands, pulling them up & placing them on your breasts. You let his hands go, allowing him to get used to the feeling. He wastes no time in rubbing & squeezing them, his pupils blown out as he looks at you, completely enamoured.
You watch him come undone every second that passes, his body becoming less stiff, more fluid & relaxed. Finally, his mental restraint snaps. He holds one in his hand as he leans forward, latching his mouth onto your right nipple with a warm, gentle pull & a swirl of his tongue. The sudden shock of pleasure draws a breath from your lungs, making your thighs clench.
“Oh my god Michael—“
His other hand reaches up, rolling your hard nub between his fingers in time with each wet pull of his mouth. He continues this for a few minutes, completely fine with doing it for hours.
He releases you from his mouth with a wet pop as you push him back onto the mattress. His belt buckle rattles as you fiddle to get it open. You manage to slide it off in one motion, throwing it behind you. You undo his button next, inching him to lift his hips up so you can remove his pants.
Michael grows impatient as he scurries to help you push them down to his thighs until you take over & pull them off completely. You feel your mouth start to salivate at the sight of his cock standing tall under his white boxers, the outline & shape clear as day.
Honestly, you didn’t expect him to look as big as he does. You wonder how it will even fit inside of you. The way it swells makes you pout, feeling even more obliged to put him out of his misery by milking him dry.
“You sure you wanna do this baby? We can stop y’know.” You reassure him, running your hands up his prickly thighs.
“Please, I don’t care anymore. I need you, God I need you. It hurts to say no to you.” He practically whimpers the words, dragging a hand over one of your breasts.
You automatically bite your lip at his desperation, moving your hands to the bottom of his shirt, lifting it over his head.
You grab the waistband of his boxers & start pulling them down slowly, his shaft revealing itself more & more the farther down they get. His cock springs free as soon as you get them completely off, slick pre-cum already pooling at the top of his head.
His cock was visibly perfect, his tip a deep mauve tone. Long veins were raised beneath the delicate skin, gently pulsating.
You feel Michael’s hand wrap around your hair, grabbing gently as he anticipates your mouth.
“Please, please—“ he begs.
You wrap your hand around the shaft, giving his tip a small kitten lick, lapping up his juices. The saltiness of his fluids made you hum, the vibrations sending him over the edge.
His body contracts the second your tongue touches him, lengthy groans ripping from his throat as he struggles to stay tame. One of his hands grips the sheets, his knuckles turning white as the other remains tangled in your hair.
You begin lowering your head, attempting to take him all in one go. Your nose grazes his pubic hair, his size causing soft gags to erupt from your throat.
“Ah—y-yes!” He cries, his eyes gradually making their way to the back of his head.
You couldn’t imagine how Michael must’ve been feeling right now, containing all that horniness for months only to get his cock sucked in the most vulgar way possible for the first time.
Trails of your saliva run down the sides of your mouth as you begin bobbing your head with a steady rhythm. You yourself were drunk, so keeping a rhythm & not sucking messily felt hard.
Michael’s hand guides your head up & down as if it has a mind of its own, not aware what he’s doing. He was too far gone, he’s entire body stiffened up from the intense pleasure you were giving him.
He opens his eyes as he rises his head up, looking at you worryingly.
“I feel something happening,” he warns as his abs start to clench. “If you stop now, it won’t count, right?” He barely manages to get the sentence out, his voice cracking.
You release him from your mouth with a pop, stroking him absentmindedly. You chuckle to yourself, he really thinks if you stop before he cums, this sinful act won’t count.
“It’s okay to want want me, Michael” You mewl.
He throws his head back on the sheets, accepting his defeat. His body still twitching as you stroke him.
You stand on your feet as you start to unbutton your jeans, sliding them down & off your feet. He sits up, sliding his hands across the hem of your lace panties before slowly pulling them down, watching the way your pussy reveals itself to him in awe.
Before you could do anything else, Michael presses his face into your glossy folds, holding your ass in place so you don’t fall.
A pornographic moan spills from your lips as you tip your head back, followed by your eyes. He moves his head down for a better angle, lapping & sucking up all your juices. His tongue swirls around your entrance, hitting your clit occasionally making you wince.
“More, please more—“
He flips you around onto the bed, immediately diving between your legs to continue feeding off you. You keep your legs open for him as he holds the backs, pushing them forward. He flattens his tongue against the bottom of your slit, dragging it all the way up with a groan. He continues doing that a few times for his own gain, sending you over the edge.
You pinch your eyes shut as you start to feel your thighs clench around nothing, a familiar sensation starting to grow in your lower belly.
“You’re gonna make me come if you don’t stop.” You moan out.
If anything, he speeds up. You tug at the sheets while the messy slurps from his drunken mouth bring you closer. Your breathing falls shallow, paired with little whimpers as the feeling grows stronger until it finally takes over you.
“Right there, y-yes, coming!”
Black spots cloud your vision, your thighs trembling in his grasp as the cord in your belly snaps. You’ve never came so hard in your life, it was almost painful.
Michael crawls on top of you like a cat as he brings you in for another kiss, addicted to your lips alone. You hold his face, his hands braced next to your head. You exhale as you feel his cock tap against your pussy, wanting to enter.
Michael moves himself up & down, his tip sliding against your slit beautifully. Both of you being so so wet makes the sliding easy, almost slipping in every now & then.
“Want it so bad, ma. Please say yes.” He whispers in your ear, his head resting on your shoulder as he continues dragging it along your slit.
“Take it baby, t’s all yours.”
You push his ass, slowly crowning his tip inside you. A bittersweet sting forms as he plunges himself deeper inside, every inch forcing a moan out of the both of you. You sling your hands around his shoulders, keeping your legs open as wide as possible in hopes he’ll fit completely.
“So—tight, God.” He breathes out, pushing the last inches inside.
Once he’s fully in, he’s already panting, the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him making him weak. He takes a minute to get used to the feeling before starting to move. A few seconds pass & he starts moving, dragging his cock fully out before plunging back in.
Your breasts move beneath him with each gentle thrust, making him latch mouth onto one momentarily, greedy to have every part of you at once. His cock hits your g-spot perfectly with precision every second, you honestly felt like you could cum at any moment if you let yourself.
It doesn’t take much longer before he’s speeding up, the slick plaps of skin meeting skin starting to creep up the harder he goes. A sweet, foamy ring of white starts to form around the base of his cock with each thrust.
Michael would rather keep his eyes open to look at your pretty little face, yet he finds it very hard. His eyes are pressed shut, trying to hide from the sinful reality. His face dug into your neck as he mumbles gibberish to himself, completely pussy whipped.
“Feels—good Mikey, you feel so fucking good.” You say, your voice jumping from his searing thrusts.
You feel his tongue graze your neck as his mouth opens, attempting to respond but to no avail.
He continues snapping his hips into you, his pelvis hitting your clit perfectly every-time. Not one second goes by where you don’t feel pleasure, it’s trapping you.
You feel him swell larger inside of you, knowing he must be close. He lifts himself up, holding your hips to push himself into you impossibly deeper.
“Fuck! Right there!” You cry out, the head of his cock abusing your sweet spot even more than before.
“Yeah? Right there?” He breathes out, forcing his cock to continue plunging into you at the same spot that made you cry out. At this point, he’s getting off on you more than his own pleasure.
You nod furiously, your face screwed up in pleasure as you were unable to form words.
“I feel it, y’ gonna make me come—,” He pants, his eyes practically watering as they stare at you for support.
You manage to reach down to try & grab him, forgetting you weren’t wearing any protection.
“You have to pull out baby, you’ll get me pregnant—”
There’s no sense of urgency in your voice, you were too consumed & wrapped up in the feeling he was giving you. Part of you didn’t even care, all you knew was now.
Michael’s thrusts start to become sloppy & erratic, his release only seconds away as his body begins to stiffen up, his thighs shaking.
The sudden change in his thrusts caused you to cum again suddenly. Your walls strangle him as you cry into your hand. The neighbours never entered your mind once.
The tightness of your unexpected orgasm catches him off guard, tipping him over the edge.
“Fuck, m’ sorry, I’m sorry—“
His hips snap into you one last time before he freezes, his warm seed spilling inside of you, painting your walls. His body falls limp as he flops down onto your chest, drawing out a long singular strangled moan into your cleavage, followed by little high pitch whimpers. The sensation of him filling you up makes you whine, definitely one of your guilty pleasures.
After a few minutes of breaths being caught, he lifts his hips, pulling his flaccid length out of you. His thick white release drips out instantly, pooling between your ass. You watch the colour drain out of his face as he stares between your legs. He reaches forward, rubbing the fluid between his fingers.
“How do you feel about being a daddy?"
a/n: can you guys tell i've been in heat this week?
ꫂ᭪݁⋮ ┆ he can't resist watching you get ready. whether it be you getting ready for him, getting ready to go out, preparing yourself before bed so you wake up all pretty. it doesn't matter. michael finds time to watch you at your vanity. he's infatuated.
he'd watch with his mouth parted a little with his head tilted to the side, or with the laziest, prettiest, boyish smile resting on his lips. he'd make sure to remind you how beautiful he thinks you are, or ask you which lipstick you were planning on wearing, or let you know which perfume of yours was his favorite, despite you not asking.
ꫂ᭪݁⋮ ┆ he thinks your little habits are adorable. he begins to pick up on them as well.
you're always fixing your jewelry so the clasps aren't showing. soon enough, michael is twisting your necklaces around for you, putting on your bracelets for you tight enough so that they don't turn, buying you thin little thongs because he knows you hate panty lines.
he wipes the gloss from that little dip underneath your plump bottom lip after you eat, knowing that you were gonna do so as soon as you checked out your reflection in that pocket mirror you carry everywhere. he knows you too well and your little habits become some of his favorite things.
ꫂ᭪݁⋮ ┆ your femininity drives him crazy. the way you have no shame in fluttering your dark lashes up at him when you ask him something or when you smile at him. the tight nightgowns you wear to bed that stop right at the middle of the swell of your ass. your feet are always pedicured and you always make sure to have earrings on.
you never leave without spraying the column of your neck, collarbones, and that spot in between your breasts with perfume. every spot you'd want him to kiss.
angel face needs a pretty girl at his side to love and adore.
