#the jacksons

[lady-in-your-life]

[ebonymuse]

PERFORM FOR ME | M.JACKSON

synopsis: michael loves pleasing you so much he has to record it for his future self to enjoy too!

warnings: sexual themes, smut, 18+

Click!

And you froze.

The faintest giggle from Michael’s mouth brought you up for air — disconnecting your swollen lips from his own.

You, as Michael’s long-term girl, knew that he was a troublemaker at times — often pulling silly stunts to get a rise out of you and make you laugh. But, rather, in this sense, make himself laugh.

But this, was definitely a new one.

“Mike, what is that?”

Michael sported a childish grin — the corners of his lips tugging each side as he fought to suppress it.

“A camera.”

“I can see that, honey, but what’s it doing out while we’re kissin’?” Your tone had Michael pulling his bottom lip between his lips.

“Wanted to try somethin’.” He revealed, his voice soft and sweet despite the sensual undertone.

You’d barely been situated in Michael’s lap five minutes, lips moving feverishly against his own, anticipating some intimacy with your man, before the clicking of the Sony Handycam CCD-M8U you bought him for his birthday started a recording.

“Come on, baby, keep goin’.” He whispered — behaving like a producer backstage of a performance, using hushed tones to support you with your next act.

You shook your head in protest — lips parting to tell him to turn that damn thing off. But, it was Michael’s way or no way. He perched up from slightly beneath you, capturing your lips again on his own. You could sense the camera on you as Michael slid his eager tongue into your mouth — the wet muscle exploring yours as his right hand levitated in the air, capturing every second of your private moment. His spare hand slid up the centre of your spine, fingers tips tracing the dip, pushing you closer to his chest.

“Michael, turn it of—“ “Shh, just let it happen, doll.”

His muffled dismissal against your lips had you huffing into his — giving up fighting him. Luckily for Michael, you soon forgot about his little friend in the air — your enclosed lip-locking becoming increasingly more heated as time pursed. Your hips ground against his own involuntarily, muscle memory kicking in from your many previous sensual encounters, eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat. Michael hummed into your mouth at the sound of your first pretty noise of the night — the excitement of his future self watching the tape back and watching your neediness increase in real time had him buzzing.

Michael bucked his hips up to meet yours halfway — a genuine whine of desperation leaving your mouth against his own, still locked in a ferocious kiss. Your hands encased his flushed cheeks, holding him dearly close to you, your whines blossoming into authentic moans of pleasure as your throbbingly touch-starved clit nudged against the painfully obvious bulge in his slacks.

Your lips left Michael’s in a frantic, needy frenzy — planting hot, open-mouthed kisses to his jawline, lips dragging along the spectacularly chiseled bone, smothering the skin in your mauve lipstick. Before following his anatomy and furthering your pout down his neck, licking a tentative stripe down the slope.

Michael shuddered under your brutal teasing, hands twitching around the camera ever so slightly. He peered up at it, ensuring he was capturing you in the perfect way.

“Gosh, baby, y’look so pretty like that.” Michael breathed, titling his head back to allow you to expand your surface area of tentative licks, “Kissin’ all on me like that.”

At this point, all the sense you had to smack that camera out of Michael’s hand had long left your head. Now, all you were interested in was pressing hot kisses down Michael’s chest, shoving the loose shirt off his torso to give yourself more room to worship his body with your mouth.

Above you, Michael had managed to shift the camera angle down, now holding the painfully obvious equipment with two hands, resting on his heaving chest — angling it just right to show your arched frame moving down his body, lipstick marks forming on his glossed skin. Your manicured hands reached the waistband of his slacks before peering your head up from his crotch, eyeing him seriously, as if to say put that thing away now.

“Please?” His pleading, slightly whiny voice had any form of judgment you’d once obtained now ten feet out the window as his eyes sparkled above you — lip threatening to fall into a pout as the camera taped you rolling your eyes before unbuckling his trousers, shoving them down his thighs. Michael grinned excitedly as you pressed your chest close to the aching bulge in his boxers.

“Wow, you really do like that camera, huh?” You teased, tracing a calculated finger down the ridge of his hard cock.

Michael hissed at the sudden, feather-light touch, knuckles going white around said tech, lip being gnawed by his pearly whites at the sight of you between legs.

“Quit teasin’.” He spoke shyly, his eyes flicking between the screen and your in-person frame, an anticipatory smile on his face.

Usually, Michael would dislike it when you suck his dick — believing his lady should be pleasured and looked after, not made to strain herself for only his gain. But, he knew how you secretly enjoyed having your throat stuffed full, rendering completely at your mercy, so every once in a while, he’d allow it.

That and you looked so pretty with his cock in your mouth.

Especially on camera.

So, when your lips wrapped around the flushed head of his proud cock, Michael didn’t know whether to focus on making sure every second of this was caught on video, or the feeling of intense delight you were succumbing him to. You suckled the tip just how he liked, his salty, yet equally delicious, pre-cum flooding your taste buds, relishing in the way the perfect dip in his eyebrows adorned his face — he was crumbling.

“S-Shit, sweetheart, doin’ so good.” He panted, thighs tensing against your hands as you steadied yourself on the meaty muscle.

You slid him deeper, tongue dancing over the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft, while your pretty fingers wrapped around the base, pumping him slowly in beat with your eager mouth. Michael watched you like a hawk — heart thumping in his chest so hard he was certain the tachycardia was going to send him into cardiac arrest at the way your seductive, doe eyes fluttered up at him through your lashes.

“Oh, Lord.” He heaved, head falling back against the pillow as the head of his swollen manhood punched the back of your throat — a loud gag of rejection sounding out into the room.

Michael secretly adored when you did that.

In his trance of lust, the camera slipped from his grasp, sliding down his side, leaving his hands free to slither down and cradle your face. You noticed.

“Ah, ah, ah!” You teased, pulling off his cock with a pop, saliva connecting you even in disengagement, “Thought you wanted it filmin’, angelface?”

Michael whined, trembling hands leaving your face to pull the camera back into his possession — focusing the lense to put you back into shot. Michael’s breath hitched at the sight — even on the choppy, blurry screen, your blown out pupils, tear-streaked, flushed red cheeks and swollen lips glossed with spit and his pre-cum had him twitching in your hand as you pumped him slowly.

“Look so fuckin’ good, girl.” He admitted, furrowed eyebrows hidden between the large hunk of plastic as he watched through it, “Can’t wait to watch this later.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to the head, collecting the pre-cum that dribbled down him with the tip of your tongue, smiling at the way Michael whined, “Oh, you dirty dog, Michael Jackson.”

Michael chuckled cheekily, “Come up here, wanna feel you.”

Obeying his orders, you let his hardened cock fall against his tensed abdomen, climbing up him once more. Your hips settled either side of him against, clothed pussy lips now hugging the thickness of his cock through your soaked panties.

“Well, would you look at that?” He started, a teasing finger coming down to toy with your damp underwear, a whine leaving your lips at the tentative touches, “Looks like you’re enjoying this after all, hm?”

You failed to reply — words catching in your throat as his finger traced the outline of your aching clit through the thin material, your lips parting at the sheer sensuality of his touch.

“Where’s that teasin’ girl gone, hm? Cat got your tongue, mama?”

“Michael.” Your voice a whiny, needy plea of despair.

“What, baby? Talk to me. Tell me whatcha’ need.” He coaxed, his tone a gentle dominant force that your mouth rambling to answer, to please.

You whined, hips rolling against the hard of his cock, rubbing alongside the pad of his finger that remained flat against your nub, “Plea—please, need it—need to feel you.”

Michael’s hand, steadily holding the camera, angled it perfectly to show your needy pussy humping his cock, as well as the eyebrows knitted in lust on your pretty little face — his cock twitching at the thought of fucking his hand to the recording later.

Michael tapped your hip, demanding you lift your hips to have access to your drooling cunt. He peeled the drenched cotton panties from your puffy pussy lips, tucking them to the side of your vulva. With practiced ease, Michael slid an expert finger between the slickness of your cunt — collecting the sweet essence of your arousal on his digits. With methodical swiftness, a long finger of Michael’s slipped into the clenching hole which needed him most.

“Mmh, such a pretty pussy, doll. Got all wet just for me?”

Michael knew the answer, he just loved to hear you say it. Loved to hear you admit in your drunken state of ecstasy that he was the one to make you slick with arousal. Michael’s fingers moved with excellence you were stunned by each and every time — the relentless abuse against the sweet, spongy spot inside you that had you crying out, tears jerking from your ears at the sheer force of the sensation.

“Ooh, there she go,” He whispered, the ball of his hand coming up to roll against the excluded nub that was screaming for touch, a move that had you sobbing, “That’s the spot, huh, ma? So good it got you cryin’ f’me, hm?”

His name left your swollen, cum-stained lips in a wretched sob, nails digging into the flex of his bicep, gripping on for dear life as you fucked yourself onto his hand.

“Y-Yes! Yes—o-ah! Yes, God, Mike—gonna cum!”

Michael could’ve laughed at the way your face dropped in sheer disbelief as he pulled his hand away from your sopping cunt after your confession of near climax. Your chest heaved, clit throbbing as your eyes welled up, pulling on Michael’s heartstrings.

“Oh, sweet girl.” He laughed, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your pouting lips, “Need you to cum around my cock, babygirl, yeah? Can you do that for me, pretty lady?”

You nodded meekly, bottom lip still jutted out in protest as Michael guided his cock between your shaking legs. Just as his burning hot tip slid into the familiar, wet comforts of your hole — your disappointed pout fell into a gasp of relief.

Michael laughed, his free hand coming to pull on your bottom lip, cock slipping further inside you, “Don’t want this out again, you hear me? No poutin’ girls around here.”

You nodded feverishly — not ever wanting to disobey him, in fear he’d take away the one thing that’s fulfilling the desire that burned fiercely inside you, as he stretched you open, inch by inch. The camera, still rolling, captured all of this — the way each inch of his cock disappeared slowly, your pretty pussy lips wrapped around his shaft, your slick drooling around him.

You whined, feeling impossibly full as he bottomed out, seating you fully down onto his pelvis. His own bottom lip was sucked in between his teeth, admiring the sight of your perfect frame on top of him.

“Oh, I bet you’re so full, huh, baby? Usually don’t let y’ride me first — can feel that pussy throbbing.” He confessed, laughing softly as you whimpered, his free hand slithering up your bared body — making sure to record his hand palming your tits through your lacy bra.

Michael wasted no time pulling the material off your body, reaching behind you to flick the fastener apart one-handed — watching as the bra fell from your chest, your perky tits on full display to him, and the camera, of course. His teasing fingers crawled up you, grabbing a gentle handful of your right breast, humming at the feeling of the soft skin and the sound of your desperate moan. You shuffled around him — wincing at the feeling of his perfectly curved cock nudging your quivering walls, awaiting the approval to start moving.

No matter what you were doing — Michael was always in control.

Michael moved his hand to roll your erect nipple in between his nimble fingers, “Go’head, girl, show me how much you need it.”

You didn’t wait for him to change his mind, not that he would with the way you were clenching eagerly around him, lifting your hips off him, about half-way, before slamming back down. Your head fell back instinctively, a cry of sheer joy slipping from your lips, only encouraging Michael to throb inside you.

“Come on, sweetheart, falling apart after one bounce? Can do better than that.” He teased, smirking at the way you bit your lip shyly, suddenly embarrassed at how much effect he had over you.

Your hips rose again — now bouncing with the help of Michael’s tight grip on your hip, pulling you up and down on him. You whined, cheeks flushed in timidity as he hummed behind the screen.

“Oh, that’s the fuckin’ money shot, girl. My baby’s a natural. Look at that pussy—fuck, yeah, doll, keep goin’.”

Michael’s words of encouragement had you crying out — moaning in pure lust as his cock continued to relentlessly nudge against the best spot inside you, one he never failed to hit each time. Michael’s hand cradled your hips dominantly, grinding you down with each movement, rubbing your clit onto his neatly groomed pubic bone, failing to hide the smirk that crept onto his face at the sound of your needy noises.

“That’s it — let me hear you, darling.”

“Mike.” You whined, hand coming up to grabs handful of your tits and the other holding yourself up on his chest, slick with sweat. Michael’s eyes could’ve popped out of his head at the sight of you — seductively playing with your perky breasts, nipples rolling between your fingers like he once did, head thrown back, mouth agape letting your slutty moans fall upon his perked up ears.

Now, this was the shot.

Michael couldn’t wait another moment. Throwing the camera down on the bed, he lifted you up with both strong hands, pulling you off his slicked cock, and laying you down gently on the bed with ease.

“Mikey.” You whinged, “Please.”

“I know, sweet thing, ‘m coming back, don’t worry that pretty little head.” He reassured, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Michael slid you onto your side with ease, one shaking leg laying over the other, revealing your swollen cunt. He slid a soft hand over your skin, squeezing the plush of your ass, humming at the sight of you beneath him. He picked up the discarded camera once more, pointing it down at you once more.

“Now, this,” He started, “is the perfect position for when my baby’s gettin’ recorded. Y’know why, sweet girl?” He spoke, sliding the flushed head of his cock between your drooling folds, ignoring the way you whined loudly, peering up at him as if to beg him to shut up and just fuck you, “Because I can see this perfect ass, cute lil’ waist, beautiful titties, and most importantly,” He complimented cheekily, free hand sliding over each body part as he listed them, before gripping your chin between his index finger and thumb, “This pretty little face makin’ the cutest faces while I fuck her needy little pussy.”

Michael entered you in one swift motion — the cutest faces he was referring to filling your expression, a loud cry leaving your lips. His name fell from your mouth like a prayer, a chant, as he rocked into you deeply — his cock-end nudging your cervix each time, sending you clawing at the bedsheets. Pleased with himself, Michael smiled behind the camera once more, angling it down perfectly to capture every aspect of you he listed — tits bouncing, ass recoiling against his abdomen, face contorted into pleasure and his cock sliding in and out of your raw cunt, a white, milky ring forming around the base of him.

Michael was in heaven — knowing this video wouldn’t be your last as he watched you through the small screen, hand now clawing at his flexed arm, nails digging into the skin as he filled you.

“Michael, Michael!—fuck, Mike, please, God, fuc—“

“Hmm, that’s right, dollface, tell me all about it. Feelin’ good?”

You whined desperately, clit throbbing against his free hand that had slithered between your sweating bodies to rub tight, practiced circled onto the aching nub, “Gonna fuckin’ cum, Mikey, please, don’t sto—ah!”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, sweet girl,” He admitted, leaning down, not caring about the camera angle, as he pressed soft kisses to your face, some landing on your parted lips, now only bothered about your pleasure, “Cum around me, baby, wanna feel it.”

The nearing peak of your orgasm crawled down your body, nestling in your abdomen, body slowly igniting in fierce heat. The sheer explicitness of the intimate moment had adrenaline and lust pumping through your veins. Your trembling hand reached across the bed, taking a hold of the camera once more, holding it out for him.

“Want it to see you fill me up wit—ah!—with your cum, Mikey, please.”

“Oh, fuck.”

Your provocative declaration had him frantic — doubling over, one hand on the bed, the other steadying the camera, fucking you twice as fast. Your cries only getting louder as he pounded the sweet spot inside you over and over again, his name being screamed so loud you were certain the whole house could hear.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah—there! ‘M there!”

You orgasmed with a cry so loud it had Michael cursing under his breath at the eroticism — revelling in the way your cunt squeezed him, sucking him in further as you came around him, nails dragging down his tensed back.

Michael wasn’t far behind you, fighting every urge in him to throw the camera away and fuck his seed so far into you that you’d be swollen with him for days, but holding it firmly in his grasp, recording just how sweetly your cunt milked him for everything he had to offer, your slickness pooling beneath you. He, though, forced himself as deep into you as he could go — making sure the camera picked up on his your cunt accommodated the sheer size of him, his milky white cum now frothing around the base of his softening cock.

He slowly pulled himself out of you with a wince, “Hold still for me, babygirl.” He ordered, forcing your legs to stay open as he leant down between your thighs, groaning at the way his cum drooled out of your swollen cunt, sliding down your shaking thighs.

Feeling a sense of post-orgasm confidence, you slid two tentative fingers between your legs, dipping into your sopping cunt, collecting both your juices onto your digits. Michael could sense where this was going, softened cock twitching, threatening to harden as you slipped your slick fingers into your mouth — sucking the mix of your salty and tangy essences clean from your burning skin.

“Holy shit, baby,” Michael breathed, feeling as though he was capturing pure talent through the screen as you released your fingers with a pop, similar to how you did with his cock prior, eyeing the camera with a knowing smirk,

“Got myself my own filthy lil’ pornstar, huh?”

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[etherealmikeyj]

- you know you love it ˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀

- summary: (bad!era) michael can’t help but be smitten by his new-ish stylist. you try your best every single day to keep your relationship strictly professional, but ultimately, succumb to your crumbling self restraint.

- warnings: a yearning (soft!dom) michael, size kink if you squint, eating out, p in v, dressing room sex, unprotected sex (pls don’t do this!) + reader is slightly avoidant - out of fear of ruining her friendship with michael

“Try not to rip this one, Michael.” You placed his outfit down on a rack in his dressing room. He would be shooting the footage for his cover of “Come Together” by The Beatles tonight.

“You know you love it.” Michael responded, a playful grin spread across his face. He stood up from his chair before walking over to where you just placed the outfit, seemingly inspecting it. “This looks great, thank you sweetheart.”

“I thought I told you not to call me that.” You rolled your eyes, trying to hide that you do in fact, love it. Your tone was firm, yet you still sent him a small but genuine smile.

“You’re right, I’m sorry…” He apologized with that damned charismatic grin.

You have been Michael’s stylist for about three months now. His last stylist had to step down due to personal reasons, but not without recommending you to take his place. When you heard your new job opportunity was to work with the Michael Jackson, you were swift to make your decision. You accepted the job.

The day you two were introduced was a day neither one of you will ever forget. You must have changed your outfit ten times before you left your apartment that day. The state of excitement and shock you were in couldn’t possibly be put into words.

Michael, on the other hand, wasn’t exactly thrilled about needing to hire a new stylist. He enjoyed the company of his previous stylist and trusted him very much, but after hearing the reason why he had to step down from his position, his sympathy ultimately took over and he supported his decision.

The first day he laid eyes on you, his attitude toward the shift in his team did a complete 180°.

You were absolutely stunning. Michael adored every aspect of you as you stood in front of him, ready to shake his hand and greet him with the most beautiful smile he could swear he’s ever seen.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jackson.” You beamed, trying to keep your excitement at bay.

“Oh, please, none of that ‘Mr. Jackson’ nonsense. You can call me Michael.” He returned your handshake, noticing how much smaller your soft and manicured hand was in his as you shook his own.

From there, Michael’s (not so subtle) feelings for you only grew and grew. He was totally smitten with you, noticing every tiny detail about you as the days went on. How you laughed at his jokes, how your lips slightly pursed as you added your final touches before he went on stage, how your cheeks blushed as he called you “sweetheart”.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

“There we go. You’re ready to go, Mike. Good luck out there. If you need me to make any adjustments at all, as usual, just let me know.” You smiled, smoothing out any potential wrinkles of his shirt fabric. You helped him slide his leather jacket on over top of his yellow button up, glancing toward the stage where he was expected to be.

“Thank you. You take such good care of me. I’ll come to you if I need anything.” Mike expressed with gratitude, giving you a small kiss on the cheek before he nodded and walked over to the stage.

That familiar, warm feeling came you, a blush making it’s way toward your cheeks. You made sure Michael had his back turned away from you before you brought your hand up, lingering over the spot he just kissed.

It’s not like you haven’t noticed the tension between you and Michael. He didn’t exactly hide his enticement toward you. You picked up on every lingering gaze, his compliments, the sweet nicknames he knew made you blush.

Truthfully, the liking he’s taken toward you scared you quite a bit. Romantic feelings aside, you loved and cherished the friendship you built with him in the last few months. Your inside jokes, the playful banter you two shared, the trust you felt in one another’s presence. It meant so much to you. You didn’t want to do anything to mess it up.

So, you recognized your romantic feelings toward Michael and whilst in his presence, you pushed them aside. You often laid some (not so firm) boundaries down, gently reminding him not to call you those sweet names you loved so much.

You didn’t have too much time to think about his kiss before the music started rolling, and Michael’s confident presence immediately took over the stage. It wasn’t long before he threw his jacket off to the side of the stage, exposing his yellow button up with a white undershirt.

“Any moment now…” You whispered to yourself. You waited patiently, knowing what was going to come soon. You knew that Michael would completely disregard your request to not rip his own undershirt. Although the two of you jokingly discussed him not doing so, you couldn’t deny the fluttering feeling in your tummy that came over you once he tore the white fabric off his body.

Sure enough, after only a few moments passed by, Michael’s shirt was torn to just right above his lower abdomen. You rolled your eyes in an “I knew it” way.

The rest of his performance was nothing short of breathtaking. They got a few great takes from what you could hear. You stood off to the side of the stage, undeniably infatuated by him. Everything about him was just so annoyingly sexy.

The way he moved, sliding his hand down over his body as he thrusted his hips to the beat of the music. The way his chest glistened with sweat as he danced. The way he smirked as the camera moved in on him.

You swallowed, looking toward your feet as you desperately tried not to allow yourself to imagine running your fingers down the lines of his sweaty, heaving chest. You mentally scolded yourself. You’re his stylist, for God’s sake.

As you peered back toward the stage, the line between professionalism and taking that man in all his glory began to blur. With one final hip thrust and his hand in the air, the director yelled “cut!”

Michael smiled and wiped the sweat off his face, the surrounding crew patting him on the back and congratulating his impressive performance. He thanked his crew, the director, and the crowd before he walked toward the very end of the stage where you stood.

“You did great, Michael. Just couldn’t help yourself though, could ya?” You hugged him, pointing to the front of his shirt as you pulled away.

“You know that I can’t, sweetheart.” He grinned. You let it slide this time as you both walked backstage. You two made small talk as you strolled alongside one another, him talking about which parts of the performance he felt could have gone differently. You reassured him that from where you were standing, everything looked great and you wouldn’t change a thing.

Reaching his dressing room, you hugged him once more and exchanged your goodbyes for the day. After you heard his door “click” behind you, you realized you forgot your purse inside his dressing room.

“Shit.” You muttered, turning back and gently knocking on his door. He answered almost immediately, an instant smile plastered on his face.

“Just can’t stay away from me, can you?” He joked.

“Ha. Ha. You’re on a roll today, Mike.” You softly pushed his shoulder. “I just came back because I forgot my purse.”

“Oh, no.” He turned around, retrieving it off the end of the rack before handing it over to you. “Here you go.”

You thanked him before scolding yourself in a whisper as it slipped right out of your hands. It hit the floor and nearly all of its contents fell out, including a few of your makeup products along with your wallet.

At the same time you kneeled down to grab it, Michael kneeled down in an attempt to help you.

“Sorry…don’t mean to be such a klutz.” You laughed awkwardly.

“Don’t be sorry, accidents happen.” He reassured you. He continued to pick up your items for you, sliding them back into your purse. He glanced up at you, meeting your eyes. For a moment, neither one of you looked away.

“Thank you, again.” You nearly whispered. Your breath was caught in your throat as he kept his eyes on you, noticing the fluttering of your lashes. You subconsciously sucked in your bottom lip, feeling your heart begin to race as you realized just how close the two of you were. It took everything in you to not look down, in fear your gaze would meet his exposed chest.

“It’s my pleasure.” He spoke with the same softness.

In an attempt to put an end to this confusing situation, you stood up quickly.

“Okay, well I think I should be going…” You rushed, grabbing the doorknob and swiftly closing the door behind you as you practically ran out of there. You made it a few steps before you stopped in your place. You stood there for about 15 seconds. You groaned as your foot anxiously tapped against the floor, mentally slapping yourself in the face.

You don’t know what came over you, but you turned around. You walked back over to his dressing room and before giving yourself a chance to back out, you stepped back into the room and shut the door.

Michael just stood there. His expression was unreadable, but you felt the disappointment in the air from your departure. Before giving it even a fraction of a thought, you completely broke the barrier of professionalism as you walked over and pressed your lips to his.

Your shoulders instantly slouched in relief as you felt his lips return your kiss. You felt his hands come up to cup the sides of your face, and soon they slid down to grip your waist. You slung your arms around the back of his neck, melting into the long awaited kiss.

Soon, one of his hands fell from your waist and tapped your ass three times, pulling a gasp from you.

“Jump.”

You happily obliged, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist. He continued to kiss you longingly as he carried you over to the only table in the dressing room, freeing one of his arms from under you to swipe the contents of the table onto the floor. He gently placed you down and repositioned his hands back onto your waist.

He pulled away momentarily, placing his forehead on yours.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to kiss you.” He confessed, caressing your thigh. “How much I’ve needed you.”

“I’ve wanted you too, Michael…” You panted, adrenaline high from your kiss. “It hasn’t been easy for me, watching you up there on that stage. Dancing and moving the way that you do, ripping all these damn shirts I bring you.”

“Show me, please.” He cupped your cheek. “Show me how much you’ve needed me too.”

Your cunt fluttered at the breathlessness in his voice near the end of his sentence. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him in closer, feeling his growing erection over his leather pants.

You leant in again, kissing his soft lips as you softly slammed his hips into your pelvis. He groaned into your lips as you each continued bringing both your hips together, eventually finding a rhythm.

“Can I touch you?” He begged.

Begged.

“Yes.” You nodded swiftly. “Please…”

What fell from your lips next was heavenly to Michael’s ears. He brought his hand up to your clothed pussy, barely even making contact with your clit as the sweetest moan fell from you. He could just imagine how sweet you would sound stretched around his cock.

“What do you want, baby?” He teased.

“Your fingers, tongue, anything.” You whined, gently grinding against his hand. “Please, just give it to me.”

“I’d give you anything.” He began. He knelt down onto his knees as he slid your skirt down, admiring your baby blue lacy panties before sliding it down too and tossing it to the side. “Anything at all.”

You gasped as he licked a stripe up your now exposed cunt, his tongue making contact with your pre-arousal slick. His tongue slid right up to your clit, shifting between kitten-licking it and suckling on it.

Your knuckles began to turn white as your fingers gripped the edge of the table, attempting to conceal the sounds that threatened to fall from your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut and your head lolled back in complete desire.

“Oh, yes. Right there, Mikey.” You praised, unaware your pleasure was about to be much more amplified as he removed his tongue and slowly circled your entrance with his middle finger, gathering your slick on it before slipping it inside you.

“Yeah, you like that, sweetheart?” His jaw fell slack, watching in admiration as your pussy engulfed his finger. “Look at you, practically falling apart on just my finger.”

“Yes, I love it.” You nodded, your enthusiasm prompting him to add another finger. He began sliding his fingers in and out at a steady rhythm before curling them, causing you to bring the back of your hand to your mouth. You bit down in an attempt to silence your pleasured cries.

Hearing the lustful sounds escape your mouth had Michael palming himself with his free hand, desperately rubbing his clothed cock as you slowly started to rut yourself against his hand. Seeing as both of his hands were occupied and your clit needed attention to bring you to the edge, he latched his mouth around your sensitive nerve bundle once more. He sucked ferociously, maintaining the pace of his curling fingers.

“Mikey, I’m not going to make it…” You warned, mouth still ajar. You glanced down at him and the sight before you only further confirmed your statement. You weren’t going to last much longer.

Tiny beads of sweat dripped down his temples causing his long, dark curls to stick to his face. He looked completely wrecked, rubbing himself to the taste of your pussy.

He popped off your cunt with an audible “pop”

“Don’t gotta hold back from me, mama. Give it to me.”

As much as you wanted to oblige, you wanted to fulfill your idea even more. You pulled him by his yellow button up from beneath you, fingers still curled into your pussy. You panted as you placed your forehead back on his.

“I want to cum around your cock.” You whispered, gazing up to meet his eyes.

He groaned at your words. He was truly at a loss for words himself, you knocked every coherent thought right out of him. He nodded desperately, wanting nothing more than for you to milk his cock dry with your orgasm itself.

He slowly pulled his fingers out of your pussy and you took the initiative to grab his hand, sucking your slick right off him.

“Who would have ever thought you’re such a dirty girl.” He teased, pumping his fingers in and out of your warm mouth. You swirled your tongue around them before hollowing your cheeks, making sure to pull off with a pop. “Such a dirty, pretty girl.”

You watched in anticipation as Michael swiftly ripped his belt off and tossed it to the side, before pulling his erect cock out of his leather pants. He stroked himself a few times, spitting on his hand and sliding it up and down his shaft.

“Are you ready, sweetheart? There’s no going back after this..” Michael asked with slight concern in his eyes. You let out a small laugh at his ridiculous question, and his brows slightly furrowed.

“Mike, I think we’re way past the point of going back.” It was your turn to tease. You could see his hesitation written across his face, so you brought your hand up to his bicep and gave him a gentle squeeze. “But you don’t have to worry at all. I want this, I want all of you.”

Michael nodded quickly, seemingly reassured. He brought his cock up to your entrance and used it to slap your clit a few times before slowly pushing in. This movement pulled moans from each of your lips, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to adjust to his size.

“Oh, God…” You cried as your pussy stretched around his girth. The burn as he stretched you out faded quickly and pleasure stepped into its place as he slowly but surely found a steady rhythm.

The sounds filling the room were absolutely delicious as his cock slid into your slick cunt again and again.

You pulled Michael in by the front of his yellow button up and he nestled his face into the crook of your neck, planting kisses all the way up to your ear.

He temporarily pulled away from your neck and brought his hand up toward the neckline of your shirt, pulling it down in one swift motion to reveal your tits.

“God, baby. You’re perfect.” He praised, admiring the way your tits bounced as he continued his relentless pace in your cunt. Before you could even blink, he attached his mouth to your left nipple.

The strings of moans and nearly silenced curses were sounds Michael has only heard in his dreams, and late at night when you popped into his head. He couldn’t believe after all of these months, you were finally wrapped around his cock, and not just in his imagination as he stroked his dick to the thought of you.

He suckled on your left nipple for only a moment longer before switching his attention over to your right side. The sensitivity of your wet nipples was becoming too much and you knew that in only a few moments, your orgasm would be approaching.

To relieve your throbbing clit, you brought your fingers down and began circling it quickly in an attempt to reach your orgasm faster. Michael absolutely did not approve of this.

He instantly swatted your hand away and replaced it with his own.

“I told you, I’d give you anything.” His fingers circled your slick clit, mimicking the pace you began to set before he cut you off. “You don’t need to get yourself there, baby.”

His words could have made you melt right then and there. Your tummy fluttered and you reached out for the back of his neck, pulling his lips to yours.

“I’m so close, Mikey.” You could barely get out.

“I know you are, mama. You can let go, I’ve got you.” He assured you, the pressure in your lower abdomen tightening.

“Oh, fuck..” You brought your hand up to your mouth once more, one last attempt to conceal your cries as you felt your cunt pulsate violently around his cock.

Michael took one final glance toward his cock slamming into you and his jaw fell slack, long white spurts of his cum coating your walls.

You both leant in to one another, chests heaving as your sweaty foreheads gently made contact.

“So good, sweetheart.” He whispered, giving your lips a small peck. “You did so good. Better than any wet dream.”

You smiled at his praise, bringing your hand up to wipe the sweat from your temples.

Michael winced as he looked down to your cunt, slowly pulling his now limp cock out of you. It was coated in cum and your slick, and he reached for a towel. He brought the soft towel to your sensitive entrance and delicately cleaned you up before wiping himself.

“Thank you.” A tender smile tugging at the corner of your lips. You both leant against each other once more, content silence filling the air. Your brows furrowed as you watched a smirk creep up onto Michael’s face.

“So…I guess you really do love it.”

(the end. wowza. gotta love a yearning michael fic. reader definitely has more self restraint than i do. the ability to control yourself for three months around him constantly flirting and pining over you? couldn’t be me. hope you all enjoyed this one. ps, please do not have unprotected sex irl. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚)

[michaeljacksondupe]

tease

part 1.

Part 2 here

pairing: michael jackson x fem!reader

synopsis: You’ve spent the entire evening going back and forth with Michael. Tired of arguing but unwilling to let him off easy, you decide to teach him a lesson he’ll regret underestimating.

warnings: diana ross, arguing, lotsssss of teasing, tension, smut, masturbation, fingering, oral sex fem!receiving, edging, dom!micheal but a hint of sub bc the sub!reader is a teasseeee.

authors note: This has been sitting in the drafts for a while so I decided to finish it and post it, idk how I feel abt it it’s not my best work. Part 2 coming soon tho.

The California sun was relentless in the best way, heat radiated from the concrete underneath your lounge chair near the swimming pool. The sound of water splashing and playful yells filled the air.

Spending nearly every summer at Hayvenhurst with Michael and his family was always a pleasure.

Being around his family was like no other. They were warm, welcoming, and always ready to pull you into the conversation with open arms. Even though you and Michael had only been together for about three years you’d known his family for even less time, but they still treated you as though you’d been around forever.

You were practically a member of the family and they made sure you knew it every time you walked through their front door.

So afternoons like these always felt a little like coming home. Everything felt comfortable and familiar. For a while, everything was perfect. Well, it was almost perfect.

There was just one problem.

You slowly slide your sunglasses up to rest on top of your head, propping yourself up on your elbows. Your eyes immediately find the two figures standing near the patio doors.

Michael and Diana.

God, you couldn’t stand that lady.

She always lingered around Michael like a mosquito, appearing the second you thought you’d finally gotten rid of her.

Every time your eyes found Michael throughout the house, Diana was standing beside him. Talking to him or laughing at something he’d said. Her hand would linger too long on his upper arm as she looked up at him smiling while he talked. It had been like that all morning, and your patience was beginning to wear thin.

Even when she would be leaving, she always found an excuse to extend her goodbyes. A hug that lasted a little too long, or a kiss pressed far too close to the corner of his mouth to be accidental.

Every time, you’d glare at her from across the room, practically shooting darts into her eyes.

She’d only glance back with that same smug expression, the corner of her mouth twitching upward as if she’d won some private game.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

Everyone knew what she was doing and it seemed as if Michael was the only one that didn’t. He couldn’t see that she was purposefully throwing herself at him every chance she got.

At first, you convinced yourself not to say anything. Diana had been around long before you came into the picture and the last thing you wanted was to come across as insecure or possessive, but deep down it was starting to eat at you everytime you saw her.

And no matter how hard you tried to brush it off, the sight of her hovering around Michael seemed to bother you more and more each time.

So, you brought it up to him this morning and that’s exactly how you ended up in the state that you’re in right now.

The argument you’d had earlier left you irritated, him defensive, and neither of you willing to back down.

So now you were sprawled across a lounge chair by the pool, determined to ignore him while still keeping track of his every move from across the water.

Michael stepped out onto the patio with Diana close behind him, wearing that same overly familiar smile she’d been sporting all morning.

At this point, you were convinced she’d overheard the argument the two of you had that morning. There was no other explanation for her sudden need to be wherever you happened to be. The pool, before that was the kitchen, the patio, even the hallway.

Every time you looked up, there she was at Michael’s side, talking his ear off and laughing a little too loudly at everything he said.

As if that wasn’t your man she was throwing herself at.

Your jaw tightened and you throw your head back down onto the lounge chair. Readjusting your sunglasses onto the bridge of your nose again.

By now, the irritation in your chest had grown into a slow, burning fire. You’d spent the entire morning biting your tongue, watching Diana cling to Michael’s side while he acted like nothing was wrong.

If he wasn’t going to take your concerns seriously, then maybe it was time to make your feelings impossible to ignore.

A few moments passed before you heard the familiar sound of his footsteps approaching from across the patio. The chair next to yours dipped under his weight.

“Hey, baby.”

You ignore him entirely, adjusting your position on the lounge chair and crossing one leg over the other.

“You’re gonna burn if you stay out here much longer.” He continued, oblivious to your anger and frustration.

You stay silent, your eyes closed shut behind your shades and your expression was un readable.

He looks over at the swimming pool, his brothers and Janet, La Toya were all hanging around, swimming and splashing water at each other. His eyes roamed across the water before they briefly turned towards you again.

His eyes scanned your body, all the way from your head down to your toes.

“How about we go inside for a bit?” he suggested. “Get something cold to drink or something. Then we can go for a shower.” He says as he leaned forward, his hand resting on your knee, lightly squeezing it to get your attention.

“You sure you don’t wanna ask Diana?” You tilted your head. “She seems to have my position covered for the day.”

The few seconds of silence that followed were telling. Confusion flickered across his face as his brows knit together. “What?” he asked with a short laugh. “Why would I ask Diana?”

You turn your head, finally glancing towards him. “Well she’s been glued to your side all day.” You shrug. “I’m sure she’d be more than happy to keep you company in the shower if you’d ask.”

Before Michael could respond, a bark of laughter sounded from somewhere behind him.

“Damn, Mike.” Jermaine shook his head from where he was lounging against the edge of the pool, his arms draped across the concrete as water lapped around his chest. Droplets slid down his face as he looked between the two of you. “You walked right into that one.”

Michael shook his head, brushing off the laughing that followed from his brothers. He turned his attention back to you, one eyebrow lifting slightly. “What are you talking about?”

You pull yourself up on to rest on your elbows once again. Lifting your sunglasses to the top of your head. “What am I talking about?” you repeated, staring at him in disbelief. “You seriously have to ask that?”

Michael let out a slow breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as his head dipped forward. Trying very hard not to show it, but annoyed nonetheless. “Baby,” he said patiently, lifting his head again. “I thought we already talked about this.”

You pushed yourself upright, turning to face him fully. “Don’t baby me.” You scoffed. The words came out sharper than you intended.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you know she’s just a family friend. There’s nothing going on, okay?” He reassured.

“Well, ‘family friends’ don’t fondle you and follow you around like a lost puppy all day.” you shot back, making air quotes with your fingers. “I mean, Michael, everyone sees it but you. She’s obviously got a thing for you…and quite frankly, it’s weird.”

“She does not have a thing for me.”Michael let out a short laugh, like the idea hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“Baby, c’mon.” He shook his head. “You’re reading way too much into it. She was helping me with my speech for tonight. That’s all.”

“Honey, you know you don’t have anything to be jealous of, right?” Marlon chimed in from across the pool.

Michael’s head immediately snapped in his direction.

“I mean…” Marlon bit back a grin, lifting both hands as he traced an exaggerated hourglass figure through the air. His gaze flickered between you and Michael. “I’m just saying.”

One of his brothers smacked him lightly on the arm, which only made him laugh harder.

The laughter around the pool only deepened Michael’s irritation. His jaw worked as he stared down his brothers, his expression hardening with every passing second.

Then suddenly, an idea struck you.

For years, you’d brushed off his brothers shameless compliments and flirtatious remarks. You’d laugh them off, roll your eyes, or change the subject.

If Michael was so convinced there was nothing to worry about with Diana, then perhaps it was time for him to experience a little of that frustration for himself.

“Mike’s lucky you even look in his direction.” Marlon continued. Normally, you would’ve rolled your eyes and shut the conversation down before it could go any further.

But today, you simply smiled. A small one.

One that immediately caught Michael’s attention.

“You think so?” You quipped, leaning back slightly, your gaze drifted to Marlon.

To your left, you could practically feel Michael’s stare burning into the side of your face. You didn’t even have to look at him to know exactly what expression he was wearing.

The sudden silence from his end of the conversation told you everything you needed to know.

Good…let him stew.

You kept your attention fixed elsewhere, secretly enjoying the fact that the tables had finally turned.

“If he ever screws this up, let me know,” Jermaine teased, shooting you a wink. The grin spreading across his face only widened when several of his brothers burst into laughter.

“Why don’t you-” Michael started, only to be cut off when you spoke over him.

“Well…” You tilted your head ever so slightly. “Then I guess you’re next up in line.” A mischievous smile tugged at your lips as your fingers traced the strings of your bikini bottom.

Your lips curved into a teasing smile as you glanced back at Michael.

You watched Michael’s hand tighten around the metal armrest of the lounge chair, his fingers curling around it so tightly the muscles in his forearm flexed beneath his skin.

For the first time all day, he finally looked as irritated as you felt.

The playful tilt of your head and the teasing smile tugging at your lips were bad enough. Combined with the tiny bikini hugging every curve of your body along your sun kissed skin and the fact that you were openly entertaining his brothers, it was a wonder how he hadn’t completely lost his temper already.

The sight was slowly unraveling him.

You might have been joking but he knew his brothers weren’t. They meant every word they said.

Michael clears his throat, the sound cutting through the laughter almost immediately.

“I think it’s time we go inside,” he suggested, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. The look he gave you made it sound far less like a suggestion and more like a warning.

You merely smiled, unfazed by the warning in his eyes. Leaning forward slightly, you held his gaze for a moment longer. “Hey, boys?” you called, your voice dripping with false innocence.

“Would one of you be a gentleman and help me with my sunscreen?” you asked sweetly. “I can’t reach my back.” A grin tugged at your lips, for a brief moment, something flashed behind Michael’s eyes. It enough to make your stomach flip.

A deep breath expanded in his chest before he slowly exhaled through his nose, as he was trying to regain whatever composure you’d just threatened.

If Michael hadn’t understood what you were doing before, he clearly had understood it now. This was pay back for the endless weeks you spent watching another woman taunt you with your own man.

Jealousy simmered beneath the surface, growing stronger with every laugh and every teasing remark exchanged around the water.

For the first time all day, Michael was the one struggling to keep his composure, not you.

It was almost as if a crowd of volunteers erupted. Before anyone could make it more than a step, the brothers were already shoving each other aside, each trying to be the first to reach you.

A few seconds of bickering and taunts passed before Jermaine finally broke through the chaos and snatched the sunscreen bottle from your hand. “Sorry, fellas,” he said, already backing away with it. “Looks like this one’s mine.”

You move your hair over your shoulder, shifting onto the lounge chair until you were laid onto your stomach. Your head rested on top of your forearms as you slowly moved your gaze towards Michael once again.

Jermaine moved around the lounge chair, droplets of pool water stained the cement floor underneath you.“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Some of us still know how to treat a lady.” He provoked, looking up at Michael through his eye lashes.

He squirted a generous amount of sunscreen into his palm before spreading it across your back. The moment his hands touched your skin, you felt Michael’s stare intensify.

Slowly, Jermaine worked the sunscreen across your shoulders and down along your sides, completely unaware, or maybe, fully aware of the silent war taking place a few feet away.

His fingers would dip further down your sides, tips of his fingers nearly touching the side of your breasts. That caused Michael to nearly flinch in his seat.

“Oh, Jermaine.” you said softy, fighting back a smile. “What would I do without you?” a dramatic sigh escaped you.

You could practically see the gears turning in Michaels head as he sat there, forced to watch the consequences of dismissing you all morning.

And if the look he was giving you was any indication, your little game was about to come back and bite you.

Jermaine’s hands moved along your spine, spreading the sunscreen evenly as he worked his way down toward your lower back. He didn’t hesitate once, his movements steady and unhurried.

Droplets of water slid from his hair and traced cool paths across your sun kissed skin as he leaned over you “Jermaine…” you complained softly, dragging out his name just enough to be dramatic and make Michael’s ears bleed. “You’re getting me all wet.”

Jermaine nearly choked.

Meanwhile, Michael had lost any composure he had left. His gaze flickered from Jermaine to you and back again, disbelief and frustration flashing across his features.

Then, without a word, he pushed himself to his feet. The legs of the lounge chair scraped harshly against the concrete, cutting through the chattar around the pool.

Without a second thought, Michael reached for your arm and pulled you to your feet. His grip remained firm around your wrist as he guided you across the patio, his strides long enough that you were forced to hurry to keep pace.

The closer you got to the house, the tighter the knot in your stomach became.

The back door flew open, Michael ushered you inside before letting it swing shut behind you with a sharp bang.

You two finally reached his bedroom, pulling you in and shutting the door right after. He paced a few steps away before turning back toward you, dragging a hand across the back of his neck in a futile attempt to contain his frustration. “What the hell was that?” He bit out, his voice was flat.

“What?” A teasing smile played at your lips. “You didn’t enjoy the show?”

“Cut it out.” He goes still, his head snapping towards you.

“Oh please.” You scoff quietly, taking a step towards him.“You let that crone follow you around all day. Touching you, hugging you, kissing you-God knows what else she’d do if you gave her half a chance.” You shook your head. “But your brother putting sunscreen on my back is where we draw the line, right?”

“That’s not the point,” He blurted out, like he was over the conversation before it had begun. He dragged a hand through his curls, frustration bleeding into his voice. “You really let him put his hands all over you just to get a reaction out of me? And those little comments you kept making weren’t helping either.”

“Those little comments?” you repeated. Slowly, you closed the distance between you, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. He still towered over you.

“You mean…” A faint smile tugged at your lips. “When I told him he was getting me all wet?” You drew the words out deliberately, your voice dropping to nearly a whisper as your eyes stayed locked on his.

Something flashed across Michael’s face before he quickly buried it. His jaw flexed, and he took a slow breath through his nose. He knew this was exactly the reaction you wanted and there was no way he was going to let you see how badly you were getting under his skin.

He takes a step closer and he cups your jaw, his palm settled against your face, large enough to cradle nearly the entire side of it, his thumb resting just beneath your cheekbone.

His frustration was impossible to miss, and it had you feeling a mix of emotions. Part of you loved seeing him seethe with jealousy over you, it was such a turn on.

There was also something undeniably satisfying about seeing him struggle with the very feelings you’d been carrying around.

“How about we stop this little game, hm?” he said quietly. There was nothing gentle about the look in his eyes. “We both know how this ends.”

Everyone knew how hopelessly in love you and Michael were. To anyone looking in from the outside, you seemed like you never argued. But behind closed doors, that wasn’t the case. When the two of you argued, and sometimes neither of you could even remember what started it, it could get ugly.

You were both stubborn in your own ways, constantly butting heads and refusing to back down. You knew exactly which buttons to push to get under his skin, and he knew yours just as well.

Both of you were far too stubborn to admit when you were wrong, and communication had never been either of your strong suits.

So when moments like this came around, when jealousy had you by the throat and neither of you could simply admit it, the situation always spiraled into something much bigger than it needed to be.

What could have been a five minute conversation always turned into a battle of pride, neither of you willing to give the other the satisfaction of being the first to say it out loud.

“How does it end, Mikey?” you challenged, your voice quieter now, though no less provoking. Your gaze dipped briefly to his mouth before returning to his eyes.

Reaching up, you wrapped your fingers around his wrist. The hand cupping your jaw was warm against your skin as you guided it away from your face.

You drew his hand slowly down the side of your body. His fingers brushed over your ribs before they settled further down at your waist, then finally to your hip. The tension in the room seemed to tighten with every inch. As you continue to move it, you felt his hand practically guide its own down to grab a handful of you.

“Does it end like this?” you asked quietly, tilting your head as you held his gaze. “With you taking what belongs to you?”

Your fingers tightened slightly around his wrist before a slow smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“Or maybe…” you continued, your voice dropping lower. “Maybe Jermaine.”

The change in his expression was immediate.

You saw it in the way his jaw locked. In the way his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Maybe it ends with him standing where you are right now.” You studied the change in his expression.. “Maybe it ends with him touching me like this.”

You leaned forward, your lips brushing over his ears. “Or maybe… it ends with, me telling him how good he feels inside me.” You whispered. “You think he’d like that? Hmm?”

His shoulders stiffened and before you could say another word, his hand tightened around your waist and he dragged you forward. The sudden movement stole the space between you, his chest colliding with yours as he backed you up a step. Instinctively, your hands came up against his chest to steady yourself. Beneath your palms, you could feel the tension running through him.

You knew your words were nothing more than a tease. A reckless one, maybe, but a tease all the same. Still, you clearly struck a nerve in Michael. The moment Jermaine’s name left your mouth, something shifted in him. The idea of another man touching you the way he was now clearly hadn’t sat well with him.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” he muttered. His voice was low, edged with exasperation.

The warmth of his chest seeped into yours, surrounding you completely. You could feel the steady thud of his heartbeat between you.

You let the silence stretch between you, studying him. A few loose curls had fallen around his face, softening the frustration etched into his features. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and those wide, dark eyes of his had narrowed ever so slightly as they remained fixed on you.

You were still pissed at him, but the sight of him like this, his possessiveness, his jealousy, the way he looked at you as though he couldn’t decide whether to kiss you or yell at you, was making you tremble against him. You could tell by the look in his eyes that his thoughts weren’t far from your own.

“Maybe I’d quit if you’d stop giving me a reason to keep going.” you provoked. A hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him down just enough to force him to meet you halfway. Your lips brush against his slightly, both of your lips slightly parted, breathing in each others air. The tension between you was thick enough to cut through

Then, suddenly, you planted both hands against his chest and shoved.

Caught completely off guard, he stumbled backward until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. He dropped onto the edge of the bed.

Before he could react, you climbed into his lap. The movement was impulsive, reckless. Your lips crashed into his, neither of you caring much for grace as all of frustration, jealousy, and unresolved tension collided all at once.

His hands found their way to your waist before sliding to your hips, settling there as though they belonged. His fingers curled against your skin, firm enough to keep you from stepping away. The touch sent a shiver racing down your spine. His tongue grazes your bottom lip, inviting you in. You accept the invitation, meeting him as the kiss tangles.

Your hips begin to roll against him, in a slow and steady rhythm. The thin fabric of your bikini bottoms was no help. His hard-on pressed into you, which only drew another soft whine from you against his lips.

He pinned you in a downwards motion further against him, you could feel nearly every part of him. A low hum escaped him, the sound vibrating between your lips.

The kiss was urgent, reckless, and laced with frustration. It was the kind of kiss that came from being so frustrated with each other, yet unable to ignore the need between you.

He brings his hands to your chest, framing your breasts and squeezing them.

Before you could react, he started planting kisses along the crook of your neck. Shivers sent down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise along your arms.

You slowly gave in to the moment, his lips trailing along the exposed column of your neck.

He found the sweet spot just beneath your ear, pressing a trail of delicate kisses there before lingering for a moment longer. Sucking onto the delicate skin.

For a moment, you lost all sense of reality. Your eyes fluttered shut as your hips continued their steady rhythm against him. You tipped your head back slightly, giving him more room.

He let out a soft groan against you, and the sound alone was enough to make your knees lock.

You had such a weakness for the groans and whimpers that slipped past his lips. Every one of them made you melt a little further into him. He had never been too shy about letting you know exactly how good you made him feel.

Before you could fully register what was happening, his arm slipped around your waist and he turned, taking you with him. A second later, your back met the soft mattress as he settled above you.

Without a moment’s hesitation, his lips found yours again. The urgency had faded, but the intensity behind it remained.

In response, your hands slid up the back of his neck, your fingers threading into the hair at his nape. The moment you tightened your grip, a low sound escaped him. His brows drew together as he pulled back just enough to break the kiss, his breath fanning across your lips. For a moment, he simply looked at you, as though trying to gather himself before being drawn right back in.

You caught one of his hands, moving it with deliberate slowness as you held his gaze. Guiding it past your abdomen, you felt his fingertips graze your skin. Without looking away, you tilted his hand inward and drew him closer, pulling him flush against your heat. The closeness sent a rush of warmth through you, and judging by the look in his eyes, he felt it too.

His fingers flatten under yours as you drag them against your bikini bottoms, forcing him to feel the heavy pool of arousal at your entrance.

“You feel that, Mikey?” you whispered against his lips, desperate not to completely unravel in front of him.

His bottom lip slipped free from between his teeth, his attention entirely consumed by you as his fingers move along you. “Shit- you’re soaking wet, baby.”

“M’so wet… so needy for you.” you cooed, your thighs fighting to stay open beneath his touch.

He let out a quiet hum against your lips before leaning in again, as though he was taking a moment to dwell over what you’d just said. His throbbing cock twitched at the sound of your soft voice.

His fingers dipped beneath your bikini bottoms, slowly pulling them aside, suddenly exposed to the cold air. Your pussy was glistening with arousal, a sight that had him nearly salivating.

Before he could reach for you, your hand shot out and wrapped around his wrist. His eyes immediately flicked up to yours. “No,” you whispered, giving him a small pout. “Not until you say you’re sorry.”

You could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, his gaze lingering on yours. “Mm.” A smile tugged at his lips. “You gonna keep looking at me like that until you get what you want?”

He slowly started to realize you weren’t letting him off easily, not this time.

You pull his hand back, the fabric of the bikini bottoms snapping back into place against your skin.

But before either of you got the chance to speak there was a knock at the door. “Michael?”

It only took you a few seconds to realize who was on the other side of the door. You look back and forth between Michael’s eyes, shooting him a warning glance, a way of telling him he better choose his next move very carefully.

“Michael!” The knocking continued. “Honey, come out for a second. I want to give you something before I leave.” Diana’s voice was muffled through the door.

You watched the hesitation flicker in his eyes, shooting him a look that clearly said, don’t even think about it. But judging by the way he hesitated, it was obvious he’d already thought about it.

She’d been all over him the entire day, and now that you finally had a few minutes alone with him, she was knocking on his bedroom door, asking him to come out. Nothing could’ve made you angrier in that moment.

He let out a breath of frustration, his eyes falling shut as his forehead dropped onto your shoulder for a moment.

“One second!” Michael yells out.

You felt a surge of frustration rush through you. “Asshole,” you muttered out, shoving him off of you before he could say a word. You pushed yourself off the edge of the bed and made your way towards his closet.

“Baby, c’mon.” He defended, lifting himself up slightly. “She’s standing right outside the door. What am I supposed to do, pretend nobody’s in here?”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you threw open the closet door. Without a second thought, you snatched one of his T-shirts and slipped it over your head.

As you turned on your heel to walk past him and toward the door, a hand wrapped gently around your wrist. Before you could get very far, he tugged you back in front of him.

“Mama, c’mon,” he sighed, his voice softening. “Just wait here, alright? I’ll say goodbye and be back before you know it.”

A fake smile tugs at your lips. Your arms were crossed at your chest before you started to slowly you ease your way down, placing your palms onto his knees while keep your body up right. You look between his eyes, watching the tension build.

“You can stay…” You paused. “But I won’t be here when you come back.” You shook your head. “Because as long as she’s around,” Your gaze flicked toward the door. “Poor Michael, won’t be able to… touch… feel… or taste, his girlfriend. Not for a very long, long, long, time.”

A heavy silence settles between you, thick and warm. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his gaze drops from your eyes to your mouth, tracking the slight curve of your smile.

You grab a pillow from the bed and toss it into his lap. He catches it on instinct, looking down at it for a second, using it to cover his hard on.

You move away from him and pull the door open. There she was, standing on the other side. Her eyes immediately landed on you, surprise flashing across her face as she looked down at you, as though she had no idea the two of you were in there together.

You brush past her on your way out, your shoulder bumping against hers as you pass. You don’t spare her a second glance, continuing down the hall without breaking stride.

… To Be Continued

[y56n11]

YOUR TYPE?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ Michael Jackson 80s x Female!Reader

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ Part 2 Here

Summary ཆི❤︎ཆྀ: at a sleepover with Michael, he asks you nervously what your type is. You know exactly how to push his buttons so you describe exactly him, only to see how flustered he’d get.

Tags ཆི❤︎ཆྀ: Childhood best friends, shy Michael, Fluff pure fluff, 80’s Michael, plz send me more ideas 🙏

The year was 1984, and the air in California felt like it was humming with electric energy of Michael’s successful career.

At Hayvenhurst, the Jackson family estate, the world was often kept at bay by high walls and security gates, but inside, with Michael you felt safe. It was late at night and you were sleeping over, after Michael had called you complaining that he was bored and needed company. You had grown used to sleepovers with him, especially since you used to sleep over at his house since you were small (being neighbours and all).

You were sprawled across the thick, cream coloured carpet of Michael’s bedroom at the bottom of his bed. A VHS tape of The Goonies was flickering on the television, the light casting a long shadow across the room.

Michael was sitting on the edge of his massive, four poster bed, his hair a soft, dark halo of curls that hadn’t been slicked back for the stage. He was idly flipping through a photograph book, but his eyes kept flicking back to you.

This was your ritual, from cramped dressing rooms in Gary and the hot California sun, you had been his anchor. You were the only one who didn’t look at him and expected something from him. To you, he was just Michael, the boy who used to hide your shoes to anger you and the man who still enjoys your company.

“Hey,” Michael said softly, his voice cutting through the movie.

“Yeah?” You didn’t look at him, your eyes still fixated on the screen.

“I was thinking about something.” He paused, the sound of him nervously tapping his fingers against the book’s spine echoing quietly through the room. “You’ve… you’ve been seeing a lot of people lately. Well, not seeing them, but people have been asking about you. At the studio, and that guy on the film set from last week.”

You finally looked up at him. “Are you talking about Greg? He’s just a camera assistant, Mike. He’s nice and all that, but he’s not… you know.”

Michael tilted his head, his dark eyes wide and curious. “Not what? What is it that you’re looking for? I realised I’ve known you for years, but I don’t think I’ve ever asked you what your ‘type’ is.”

He said the word type nervously, like it was a foreign ground he hadn’t stepped onto yet.

You crossed your legs, leaning your back against the bed. A idea flickered into your head. You knew Michael better than he knew himself, so you knew exactly how to push his buttons.

“My type?” You mused, tapping your fingers against your chin for the extra effect. “Hmm. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Come on,” Michael nudged your shoulder, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Describe him. The perfect guy for you. A business man?”

“Definitely not a business man,” you laughed. “No, I think my type is more… specific.”

Michael leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his full attention locked onto you, the movie playing completely forgotten. “Specific, how?”

“Well,” you looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “First of all, he has to be kind. Genuinely deeply kind. Not just the type of person who says typical manners, but the type of person who actually cares.”

Michael’s expression softened. He blinked slowly. “That’s a good trait. What else?”

“Psychically?” You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. He was waiting patiently. “I think I like someone with wide, dark eyes. And I’ve always had a thing for dark, curly hair. The kind that looks kinda messy.”

Michael cleared his throat, a faint pink hue beginning to creep up his neck. “Curly hair. Right.”

“I’d like for him to be talented but humble about it.”

Michael shifted on the bed, his movements becoming a tad bit more fidgety. He was starting to catch on. He didn’t want to be vain enough to assume you were talking about him, yet the details were becoming hard to ignore.

“…very specific.” Michael murmured, his voice dropping an octave.

“Oh, he is,” you continued. “He has to be funny, and like playful. He’s willing to have fun y’know?”

Michael nodded. he laughed, the kind of one where he would get compliments from fans and he’d get flustered. He covered his mouth with his hand.

“Long lashes, too. The kind of ones women would kill to have. Oh, and dimples for sure.”

Michael bit his lower lip, trying to suppress the massive grin threatening to break across his face. “And his style, I’d love for him to wear black loafers, and white socks. And someone who gets all shy when someone tells him how amazing he is.”

You tilted your head back to look at him, a full smile on your face. “Stop it! Stop it right now. You’re just… you’re doing this on purpose.”

Michael quickly covered his face with his hands. You moved to sit close beside him. “I’m just answering the question, Michael.” He only became even more flustered with the way you said his name.

He pulled his hands away. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were describing…”

“Who?” You asked, even though you knew well enough. “Who would fit that description, Michael?”

He stared at you for a second, holding his breath. The weight of his gaze made your heart thump viciously against your ribs. He looked like he wanted to say it. He wanted to ask, ‘are you talking about me?’

But he was Michael, and you were you. The friendship was too precious to risk with a single sentence.

He suddenly reached out and grabbed a pillow, jokingly hitting you with it. “You’re talking about E.T.”

“Hey!” You laughed, grabbing a nearby pillow to hit him back. “E.T. Doesn’t have any curls, Michael!”

You both laughed as the movie played in the distance completely forgotten. Yet Michael’s chest felt warm, he was unexpectedly happy and glad with your response.

[mikesfavfish]

FAVORITE PART: jaafar jackson x f! reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Without checking with me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•┈┈

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

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

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

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

“Hi, baby.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[a-motherfcking-fish]

jolly ass mf 😭😭😭 he was so excited to be levitated