anyway here's my 50000 word essay on how papercut is actually the perfect pair because they are exactly the same and deserve each other (/neg and /pos) and always end up searching for each other in the end:
every time a female character in a male written anime/manga decides to quit fighting or being a “tomboy” for a shitty boring male protagonist, another far right incel is born
Which social environments make them noticeably more relaxed based on their Venus house placement (also look at the house where you have Taurus and Libra).
Venus in the 1st house
They relax around people who instantly validate them instead of acting emotionally unavailable for sport. If the room likes them, they’re good. If the room feels cold, judgmental, or socially stiff, their mood drops fast. They hate environments where everybody is trying to look too cool to enjoy human interaction.
Venus in the 2nd house
They relax around stable adults with functioning nervous systems. Comfortable homes, good food, decent money habits, predictable people. Nothing exhausts them faster than chaotic broke people creating six emotional emergencies before noon. They want peace, not “character development.”
Venus in the 3rd house
They relax around people who can actually hold a conversation without turning everything into therapy or ideological warfare. Humor calms them. Fast banter calms them. Mentally dead conversations make them look like their soul left their body fifteen minutes ago.
Venus in the 4th house
Their ideal social environment is “small, private, emotionally familiar, and leave me alone afterward.” They get drained by public social performance fast. Half the time they only tolerate large gatherings because somebody they love dragged them there against their will.
Venus in the 5th house
They relax where people are loud, alive, attractive, funny, creative, flirtatious, or at least entertaining. They die internally in overly serious environments where everybody talks like a corporate HR department with seasonal depression. They need social heat or they mentally check out.
Venus in the 6th house
They relax around competent people who clean up after themselves and answer texts normally. Functional coworkers calm them down more than emotional intimacy does. Watching irresponsible people operate in daily life genuinely raises their blood pressure.
Venus in the 7th house
They relax around people with social reciprocity skills. Basic balance matters heavily. If they feel like they are carrying the interaction alone, resentment starts forming immediately. They cannot stand socially selfish people who treat conversations like free personal PR campaigns.
Venus in the 8th house
They relax around people who are honest about their issues instead of hiding behind fake positivity. They trust emotional darkness before they trust polished social masks. Somebody bluntly saying “yeah my life is a mess” feels safer to them than somebody acting artificially wholesome for approval.
Venus in the 9th house
They relax in environments where people think beyond their own zip code. Travel culture, philosophy, weird intellectual conversations, culturally mixed groups. Socially narrow-minded people exhaust them fast. Nothing kills their mood quicker than people proudly refusing to learn anything new.
Venus in the 10th house
They relax around socially competent adults who understand status, timing, and public behavior. They hate sloppy social environments where people overshare, embarrass themselves publicly, or create unnecessary scenes. Watching somebody ruin the vibe through lack of self-awareness physically irritates them.
Venus in the 11th house
They relax around friends, not forced obligations. Shared-interest groups, online circles, communities, long-term mutuals. Family expectations can feel suffocating to them sometimes. Around friends they suddenly become louder, funnier, and significantly less emotionally constipated.
Venus in the 12th house
They relax where nobody is watching too closely. Quiet spaces, hidden environments, emotionally soft people, low-pressure interactions. Loud social competition makes them disappear internally. Put them in a room full of attention-seeking extroverts and they start looking like they are serving a prison sentence.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Category: Smut 18+ MDNI, FLUFF
Summary: Spencer comes out of the shower looking like a wet dog and it’s enough to send you on your knees.
Content: 2.9k words, established relationship, size kink, hand job, blow job and deep throating, choking on dick, sub!Spencer undertones, dacryphilia, Spencer says something slightly mean but it’s resolved quickly, Spencer cums too soon.
a/n: My google search history will get me on a watchlist one day, and it’s all because of these fics. Combination of Rucha’s request, anon who gave me the “getting rid of reader’s gag reflex” idea, also hi to this anon who requested dacryphilia for kinktober, October came early hehe.
You make your attraction to your boyfriend very clear. Sometimes, perhaps, to the point of comical exaggeration, so much so that it makes Spencer Reid suspect that you may only be teasing him. His doubts aren't unwarranted—not because of you, of course. But growing up the way he did—knobby joints and limbs too long, too scrawny, too smart, too much yet somehow simultaneously still not enough—makes the notion of desire and romance feel out of his reach.
He doesn't quite know how to deal with being the subject of your desire. To be on the receiving end of your undivided attention. An object of lust. Really, him, of all people?
You, meanwhile, revel in his confusion. Sending such a brilliant man into spirals is an achievement you wear with pride, and a challenge you consistently tackle head on.
So when you drape your arms over his shoulders, the soft furrow of his brows makes something in your chest curl. Love. A sense of power. The heady, addictive combination of both.
Droplets from his wet hair scatter all over your wrist and upper arms, still warm from his shower. The heat from your skin keeps them from cooling. Spencer huffs, a nervous smile on his face as his hands land on your hips. Warm, pruned fingers flexing and squeezing into your body, testing out the authenticity of your existence. An overactive imagination came with his genius, and he wants to make sure you aren't something conjured from his fantasies.
You aren't. You're solid, and he isn't in the mood to test any more hypotheses as to why you're currently in his arms.
“Hey, angel,” he whispers the nickname like he's holding the very thing, his unworthy palms making contact with something heavenly.
“Hi baby,” You coo, light and pretty as birdsong, “Did you have a nice shower?”
He chuckles, unsure of what you want but enjoying the guessing game all the same. He loves games. He loves them even more when it involves you, and your affection. “I did. I used the conditioner you got for me.”
Your hands tangle into his hair when he mentions that, humming as you squeeze out the strands, “You didn't do the routine though.”
“I know, I didn't want to stay in there too long,” He says sheepishly. You'd lovingly pointed out a curly hair routine for him before, and on days where he has the time, he tries to do them. Often than not, he's a bit too busy with work. Right now though, there’s other reasons for his rush. “I wanted to spend as much time as I could with you.”
“Is that so?” you giggle, and he swears he's about to tip over.
“Yeah. I missed you all week.”
“Really?”
“Really. In fact, I missed you while I was showering.” He smiles all dopey and soft, body flushed with his love for you. His breath becomes a prisoner lodged somewhere between his chest and throat when your lips widen into a bright smile as a result of his words.
“Did you?” your body presses into his nearly naked one, hips flush.
He gulps, knowing you could feel his body reacting to your proximity. The slightest bit of affection from you and he’s already aching, fingers digging into your hips as he closes the distance between your mouths in place of a proper answer. The kiss muffles your giggles, a sound so precious he’s uncertain if he’d like to record it and play it for the rest of the world, or keep, selfishly, to himself.
You press into him further, and he’s following your lead, feet padding backwards. Stumbling. Slightly unsure, but he trusts your judgement, trusts wherever it is you’re planning to take him.
The couch, it turns out, so overstuffed it swallows his form when he sinks onto it. Somewhere along the way, his towel had slipped on the floor, no doubt by the insistence of your frisky, demanding hands. You break apart from him, lips kiss swollen and pulled into that familiar, cheshire cat smile as you sink to your knees between his spread legs.
Gently, he keeps you back, brows knit as he surveys your position. With worry dancing in his eyes, he cups your cheek and whispers, “You don’t have to do that, angel.”
“I wanna,” you insist, palms wrapping around the base of his already half-hard cock.
The feeling chokes the breath from him, but he forces himself to focus. “But it hurt you the last time.”
“No, baby, it didn’t. I just gagged a little, that’s all.” You reply with a soft giggle. Your breath washes over the sensitive skin of his length as you do so. It’s dumbfounding that such a tiny shift of air could send shivers prickling down his spine, but perhaps it’s more because of the very existence of you (here, in his apartment, and against all odds, his) than the action itself.
“Yeah, you did. It was honestly a little surprising."
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He doesn’t catch the edge in your voice, hurtling forward with a hasty reply, “Well you just seem so experienced.”
“Are you saying I got around?”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant at all!” His eyes widen comically, large hands framing your face and gripping with a desperation that makes you laugh. “Please, that’s not—why are you laughing?”
“Relax, Spence, I know what you mean. I think.”
He burns, from the tops of his cheeks and crawling everywhere like spilled water. Fighting through the ache in his chest—you’re so, so bad for his breathing—he manages to croak, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything mean, just… surprised, is all.”
“That I had a problem last time?” another stroke, and another, slowly both hands in tandem. He can feel himself throbbing, and it’s a little embarrassing how little it takes for you to coax him into an aching erection.
His voice breaks as he responds, “Yeah. You don’t have to do it, if it’s an issue.”
“It’s no big deal, baby. You just triggered my gag reflex, it wasn’t life or death,” you pump his length gently as you explain, twisting your fists every time you move down. The twitch of his thighs tells you you’re having the exact effect you want from him. “I’ve never had anyone as big as you before.”
“You called me a choking hazard.”
As you laugh, your breath wafts over his heated length, and nearly undoes him.
“What? You did!”
“I know,” your tongue skims over the slit of his tip, before gently circling its circumference, collecting as much of his precum as possible, before your soft lips part wider, stretching wide to take the broad head. Carefully, your tongue caresses the underside, spreading sticky, warm wetness as far as it can go.
Spencer wonders if it’s socially acceptable to pass out in the middle of getting a blow job. If he did, it wouldn’t be his first social faux pas, but the thought of being unconscious while you wrap those sinfully plush lips around him feels like a waste. How dare he lose consciousness while he has you on your knees for him? No, the only way to get through this is by being completely wide awake, and focused on you.
So he distracts himself, if only to keep from fainting, the best way he knows how.
“You know, the biggest trigger for your gag reflex is usually psychological.” he feels your laughter vibrating from his length, up his spine. An endearing crack in his voice comes as a result as he continues, “It’s true—this is your brain protecting you because it thinks the matter is life or death.”
You pull off, pressing your sticky, curling lips against the side of his shaft. Spencer whines at the loss, large eyes already glassy as they plead with you wordlessly. Come back, he seems to beg, why did you stop? But he’s perfect and patient, and never demands, so he shuts his mouth.
Smirking, you mumble, “But I know I’m not in danger. You’re just huge.”
“Well, uh, yes admittedly, that’s a factor too. Somatogenic stimulus.” at your raised brow, he hastens to explain, “T-that means it hits trigger points inside your mouth that sends signals to your brain. In response, your pharynx contracts to prevent you from choking.”
“What if I want to choke?” your pout glistens with his slick and your own saliva.
Spencer wants to weep.
“There’s certainly ways to, um, train your gag reflex.”
“Yeah?” you brighten, tongue flicking out and tracing the vein on the underside of his length.
He feels himself twitching in your hands, voice breathless and strangled as he responds.
“Yeah. A lot of it involves simply relaxing,” slowly, his hand comes to your hair, pushing back the strands from your temple, “Breathe through your nose before going deeper. If it hits the back of your throat, don’t panic and make sudden movements.”
“Seems like you know a lot about giving head, baby.”
Spencer can’t help but laugh at your jest, thumbs caressing the softness of your cheeks. “Maybe I do. Maybe I did my research after the first time you tried it.”
“Mhm, nerd. That’s why I love you.” you giggle, lashes fluttering and skimming over the tops of your cheeks as you close your eyes and lean into his warm, steady palm. “Good thing you told me. Now we can test it out.”
Without warning, you take him into your mouth again, pretty lips stretching wide to accommodate his girth. A soft, tortured gasp tears past his mouth when your cheeks hollow in, sucking eagerly at the tip before your mouth relaxes.
He manages to take a breath, labored and panicked despite his earlier advice for you to stay at a relaxed state. In contrast, you’re completely at ease, eyes sparkling mischievously and peeking up at him from beneath your lashes. He swears you’re smirking. Your mouth is wrapped around him but he just knows, okay, you’re smirking one of those sweetly mocking smirks you like to flash his way just because you know he’s utterly yours.
“Angel,” he exhales, and your head surges forward, jaw relaxing further, and he feels the slight drag of teeth against the oversensitive skin of his cock. It’s warm and wet, and his fingers reflexively tighten in your hair, curling around the strands for something to ground him.
It stings, this new grip, but deliciously so, a pain that heightens your senses and makes your own thighs clench together. But this is about him, and you’re enjoying the view in front of you. Spencer Reid, reduced to the most pathetic whimpers. Spencer Reid who doesn’t know his own strength and is all but pulling you by the hair with how rigidly he’s wound your hair around his fingers.
God, you feel drunk.
Filled with more confidence, you breathe slowly as he’d instructed, before taking him deeper, watching as almost half of his length disappears into your mouth. Now faced with some confirmation that you can, indeed, take more, you push further until he hits the back of your throat and that treacherous reflex triggers.
The sound you make seems to shake Spencer from his trance, hazel eyes blinking rapidly as he shuffles his hips away.
“Are you okay?” he blusters, all clear eyed focus now. He tries to pull you off of him, hands migrating to your shoulders.
You nod, brows furrowing into a stubborn, warning look. He immediately backs off, protests dying on his lips as you remain on your knees. Fisting over the rest of his cock that you couldn’t fit into your mouth while simultaneously bobbing your head up and down what you could take.
“O-oh my god,” Spencer’s hands return into your hair, pushing back the strands that have fallen over your forehead.
Knowing that he’s overly sensitive, you moan around his length. His body tenses, shivers, filling you with enough confidence to bob your head up again, deeper this time, and more prepared. When his tip reaches the back of your throat, it feels more like a kiss than a nudge.
“Fuck!”
You moan in response, eyes flashing up to meet his awestruck gaze, before pulling away. Twin gasps for air; you from an exhilarating sense of accomplishment, Spencer from a flushed, dizzy haze.
“That was so good,” he slurs, body bending down to catch your lips. Your giggles are swallowed by his insistent kisses, tongue pushing into past your lips as though he wants to taste himself through your mouth. “So good, honey, you did it deeper than the last time.” he’s babbling into the kiss, hands cradling your head back.
You moan, shift to a more comfortable angle on the floor, before breaking the kiss, your lips connected by a glossy string of saliva.
“I wanna try again,” you whisper, pushing him back, “Just sit back and enjoy, Spence.”
Without waiting for his response, you take him into your mouth again, relaxing and breathing as steadily as you can, before you begin the rhythm. He’s groaning above you, one hand fisted on his cushions, the other at the crown of your head, holding back your hair.
Again, spurred by his reactions and a sense of boldness, you pull back until only his tip remains in your mouth. Your cheeks hollow as you suck, preparing yourself mentally for another attempt. Holding his cock steady at the base, you lower your mouth slowly, slowly, over his length, blinking through the tears that prickle at the corners of your eyes when you feel him sliding past your tonsils and down your throat.
“Fuck!” Spencer cries out. His whole body is tense, every single muscle flexing as he holds back the desire to thrust into the wet warmth of your mouth. He can’t tell which of you is more affected, more defiled. You or him? He thought you’d be in a position of power, as you usually are, as he usually surrendered to you, but right now it seems you’re both equally ruined.
The mere sight of you tearing up and gagging gently around him, struggling to keep him inside your tight throat nearly undoes him. When he feels your nose nestling over the skin of his lower abdomen, he can’t help it. A sob escapes. Big fat tears chase each other down his cheeks as he feels your throat contracting around him.
He can’t lift his teary-eyed gaze from your prone figure. Somehow, despite it all, you’re still looking up at him, the tears down your cheeks mirroring his. Before he knows it, his cock twitches, and then he’s bursting thick, hot ropes of his spend directly down your throat.
It takes you completely by surprise. You were only trying to see if you could take him all the way; triumph had curled in your chest when you did, but only for a moment as you felt him swell impossibly bigger, and then he’s cumming.
Down your throat.
You’re choking on both his cock and his cum.
It’s difficult not to panic, and once you start, your brain fires off at every self-preservatory neuron. Gagging around him, your own tears burn hot streaks down your cheeks, until he pulls you off his shaft and onto his lap.
“Oh, angel,” he sniffles, arms encircling your waist tightly, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, oh my god.”
He’s sobbing into your shoulder, one hand tucking your head against the crook of his neck. As you cough and regain your breath, his scent fills your senses, the familiar evergreen of his soap and the spicy aftershave, and for a moment, all you can think of is how you’re drooling all over his freshly washed skin.
“I’m fine, Spencer, really.” You hug him back tight, heart drumming in your ears as you calm back down, “I made a mess.”
He angles his head to take a look, eyes skimming over the mixture of saliva and cum dripping from your lips, down your chin and neck, and shakes his head. “No, you–I think you’re beautiful.”
“You’re just saying that cause I gave you great head.”
He laughs through his tears, hands moving to frame your face. His thumbs drag over your cheeks, brushing away your tears. “No, that’s not true. You know that.”
“I do.” You smile, leaning in tentatively, unsure if he’d want to kiss you with such messy lips. Spencer has no such qualms, meeting you halfway and groaning as he tastes himself on your tongue.
“I think you’re divine.” he murmurs as he begins kissing along the corners of your mouth, cleaning off his spend by his own lips. You weren’t expecting him to do something so filthy, and every lick of his tongue gives you a delicious shiver. “The prettiest. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“Stop apologizing,” you admonish, shifting on his lap to wrap your legs around his waist, “I told you, I wanted it. Seems like you enjoyed it too.”
“Immensely,” he admits, lips now at your jaw, nipping playfully at the sensitive skin, “But now, I think it’s time I take care of you.”
You press your hips against his with a giggle, "Yeah? You want to make a mess elsewhere?"
He groans, embarrassed, but doesn't deny it.
i love them so much they make me so fucking sick. pls reblog and comment if you enjoyed, thank you for reading!!!!
“But I’m still in my CR” “But I still can’t shift”
Let’s ruin that illusion real quick because this is the last time I’ll address this. This red coke can is your CR:
Lately you’ve gotten a bit sick of its flavor, so you want to shift to your DR, which is this lovely black can of Coke Zero:
So you shift—doesn’t matter if it's law of assumption, law of attraction, non-duality, rampaging, witchcraft, whatever it is that floats your boat. You shift. You did your shifting attempt.
You open your eyes and see the same red coke can you’ve seen a thousand times:
You roll your eyes because you were supposed to shift last night, you intended to be in your DR, you did your method, your affirmations, your rampage, your prayer, your script, your meditation, your meltdown, your “I am god” moment—and yet you wake up, look around, and it’s still the same damn red can.
“It didn’t work.”
“I’m still here.”
“Nothing happened.”
But zoom in. Click on the image and zoom in. What color is the can? The stripes you swore were red are actually black. The red is a lie. An illusion. Your eyes don’t see reality. They see light. Your brain doesn’t render reality. It predicts it, using your observations, and yesterday’s data as a stencil because continuity feeds you an illusion that’s easier to process than the raw truth.
Does this mean that reality is delayed? No. If you think there’s a gap you need to sit in, waiting until your brain catches up, it’s an illusion.
And then you spend months, years, stacking up these optical illusions. After every shifting attempt, you add another to the pile. Soon, you’re sitting on a mountain of black cans you swear are still red.
And that’s fine. Because what you intend—is. If you keep observing your CR and toss aside your intention because “it didn’t work,” then yeah, you’re in your CR. The minute you look for ways to re-do the intention, the intention is dropped.
Butttt, your mind knows that you intend to shift, just like it knows how to shift. The intention to shift is within your awareness, so it never leaves you, just like how the ability to shift and be in your DR is within your awareness. Or that you intend to become a master shifter. So look at your collection.
*gasp*You’re a master can collector now! You’re a master shifter without even realizing it. Every single “failed” attempt is a black can in your stash. That’s evidence. Proof. Each can says: you did it, you shifted, you intended, you acted.
You’ve been a master shifter from the moment you decided it, but now you have a mountain of cans proving it to yourself.
You might be in your CR right now if that’s what you intend, but you have the ability to shift to your DR whenever you want.
Intention = Decision. The moment you intend, it is.
Wavering = Doubt/complaints. This does not erase intention. It’s like whining after submitting an order—it doesn’t cancel it unless you actively cancel it.
Dropping intention = Actively deciding you don’t have it anymore. You chose to retract. But the intention isn’t GONE. It’s still in your pile.
“I know I have it, but—” Cool, that’s just you wavering. So long as you know it’s yours, say whatever you want.
“I’m not in my DR because I tried to shift and it didn’t work, so now I have to try again” Aaaaand you threw your Coke Zero can back into the pile.
could you do a michael x reader where the reader is young and rowdy. like basically how bad era mike would handle a rowdy loud party girl in her twenties? you can add smut if you want!
TOUGH CROWD
f!reader (young and wild reader) / bad era michael
part 1 (part 2 - spotlight)
(lowercase INTENDED!) & not proofread ! 18+, age gap, sexual themes, smut, praise, degradation, mention of breeding, dom!michael, oral (f receiving), public sex (if you really think about it), implied face riding.
preview: young, wild, and free you decide to bust into a hollywood party under your dj friends identity. thinking you are hiding pretty well and enjoying the night recklessly, you don’t realize the pinned point stare that has been dragging across your body the moment you walked in.
A/N: oh reading this request already had my brain go fuzzy at the thought of writing this out 😭 i’m actually so excited to write smut after so long maybe because i’m a secret freak in the inside LMAOO. n e ways, this one is a bit longer so hope you enjoy the ride !! (no pun intended LMFAOO)
“y/n this is absolutely ridiculous” your friend spoke while flicking her cigarette butt in the ash tray next to her as you roll your eyes.
you had just finished coming back home from another night out in west hollywood. mascara dried around your eyelids, lipstick nowhere to be found on your lips, and somehow you missed one shoe and you couldn’t find your bra.
your friend couldn’t stop laughing at your pathetic awakening as you roll your eyes soon tucking your legs under the soft blanket wrapped over your seat.
“it’s not though. especially when you think about being surrounded by a-list celebrities and filthy rich people.” shrugging, your friend raises their brow before tucking a strand of hair behind their ear attentively.
your plan was easy.
use your friends name under tonight’s huge celebrity club event in calabasas, sneak into the main room, and lose yourself all night once again enjoying the last few years of your youth.
3 night outs in a row and you still weren’t sick of the life. yeah maybe relaxing in bed and watching old movies was cool, but you also enjoyed the idea of living your life to the fullest every day. whether it’s clubbing all night, driving to another state, or breaking into celebrity areas to get your name around.
it felt like a challenge to do, which made you enjoy the risks of it even more.
your friend slips their dj credentials on the marble table across from you soon letting it slip below the tips of your fingers. as you come across the slip of paper you see all the information you must memorize before tonight.
this was the boring part of the whole thing.
actually learning and trying to become the person you aren’t.
“if anything fails, just know i’m not paying for your bail or bond money.” laughing at your sudden change of facial expression you let out another exhausted sigh looking at the paper once again.
tonight was going to be fun.
tonight was already a pain in your ass.
you lost count of the amount of times you flirted your way through the entire line of celebrities and people who wanted to just beg the bouncers to pass inside.
by the time 12am strikes, you finally reach the front of the line. the bouncer gives you a stern gaze by seeing your act of skipping the line, now dragging his eyes from your head to your toes.
before you could open your mouth and speak, he opens his hand letting his palm face upwards towards you. “name? id? invite?” 3 questions in 2 seconds my gosh.
what happened to hello pretty face? or better yet, nice tits, move inside.
you don’t like people sexualizing you or your body, BUT you couldn’t also deny your beauty and your overall attraction.
there’s a difference between feeling confident and throwing yourself out there like meat. and you were most certainly not the second one.
giving it a few seconds, you dig into your small vintage coach bag before taking out the fake id with your friends information.
thank god for marketing and art degrees.
you thought as your eyes stay stuck upon the bouncers. as his slimy fingers touch your own he looks down at the id. lips twist in amusement before looking back up at you.
“ok.” he quietly says.
that’s it.
nothing else nothing more before moving to the side as you give him a small half smile of appreciation. before walking halfway near him you soon hear the small whisper you were waiting for, now leave past his lips.
“damn nice tits.”
knew it.
laughing to yourself at the coincidence you slowly walk inside the nightclub. strobe flashes appear in different sides of the room as the place was packed full of people. you can surely smell the stench of perfume, sweat, and sweet liquor surround yourself as you breath in the smell.
you were back in your area.
before you knew it you begin your nightly fun.
drink after drink after drink you were sure you were already tipsy. however you were still well aware of your surroundings and your actions since you knew your limit. yet that did not stop you from still having shots poured in your mouth by random celebrities every 10 minutes.
as you continue having fun and spreading little harmless lies about your “career” as a dj, you don’t seem to realize the long hard stare that was coming from across the floor and towards your side.
michael was sitting near a booth quietly people watching as his team spread throughout the nightclub. all while making sure to make more connections for possible music collaborations or deals.
he wasn’t in the right headspace as he drowns down another shot of crown royal. the taste lingering like a buzz down his throat as his eyes stop towards your frame.
its been weeks since he’s been able to catch a break from the ‘bad’ tour and the promotions. his one night free a week kept him at-least sane before having to work 5 straight days non stop once more.
“who’s she?” michael questions towards his security guard as the older man simply shrugs his shoulders and rolls his neck, soon fixing his jacket collar. “i’m not so sure sir.”
“michael” he cuts off towards his security once more with an annoyed yet exhausted sigh. no matter how many times michael asks his staff to call him his actual name, they insist on being professional and calling him sir or mr. jackson.
and god how he hated those names with a burning desire.
“i could potentially find out.” michael’s eyes snap away from you and towards his security before giving him a quick nod.
he watched subtly as his security scavenge through the crowd of people, soon asking a few others that had talked to you and asking them who you were.
michael later catches him walk back with his hands firm inside his pockets. “she’s a dj sir. apparently for a few other musicians.”
michael nods at his words still looking at you from afar. your presence attracting him even more as he watches you climb over the bar top with a few men placing their hands on your ankles for “support”
yeah support bullshit.
he watches more attentively at the multiple men gawking over the sight over them. hands in your hair, top falling off your shoulders now letting your collarbone and complexion shine bare through the lights, and you dancing without a care in the world.
he KNEW he had to talk to you.
yet he didn’t know how, especially with the crowd of other celebrities around. he knew there wasn’t going to be any gossip or spill on what he would do tonight. especially considering it was mostly well known people here.
everyone swore to secrecy and signed nda’s to be able to even attend. nothing leaves the nightclub and nothing is spoke of outside of it.
“sir..?” his security interrupts as he watches michael now stand up before fixing his leather jacket and belt silently. “michael—“
he stops before looking back at his security. “i’ll be okay.”
and with that walks off towards where you were currently dancing at.
you laugh so loud as an older actor you’ve seen on your screen before touches your ankle and throws a small pack of cash near your heel.
“to support that little dj business of yours pretty face.” he shouts through the loud music as you lower yourself still over the bar table, soon grabbing his jaw with your fingers.
“beat it old man.” you snark as he rolls his eyes and unlatches his hands away from your body. your heel now pressing the cash pile he has thrown to prevent him from grabbing it, he walks off annoyed.
you were starting to get bored of this place. you would think rich people and celebrities have an actual soul or some sort of interest but my gosh how you were also so incredibly wrong.
you jump off the table before sitting in a barstool now placing the palms of your hands over the cold marble detailing.
sweat started to shine on your skin as your shirt now revealed your lace bra underneath without a care in the world. you were just breathless and tired.
“may i buy you a drink?” you hear a voice suddenly near your ear. immediately setting you off, you turn around to see someone hovering over.
“well look who we have here..” your gaze meets his as you tilt your head back to see him even better. michael jackson standing in-front of you with a look so firm on your own you couldn’t even focus on your surroundings.
just him and those dark eyes of his.
“well i see you know me” he leans on the table top before you straighten yourself better. “but i don’t know you” his lip now tuck between his teeth with a slow bite, you sense your skin once again heating up. “i’m sage” you reply instantly with your friends name as he slowly nods his head.
michael’s eyes follows from your eyes to your cheeks, later following the curve of your neck to your collarbone and the pretty pink lace bra peaking from underneath.
his legs shift a bit still standing as he felt himself tense up. his pants tightening at the casual semi-nudeness of yourself on display in a public setting like this.
“well sage…you do have a habit of being very loose don’t you?” your lips part at the shocking comment, not knowing what to say. “excuse you?”
michael laughs under his breath before leaning in to make sure you hear his every word. “dancing with those men touching over you like some sort of statue award. you like being an object of desires? reckless in public and showing off?”
michael never had such confidence then he did right now. maybe it was the fact he was on his 4th drink of the night. or maybe simply the fact that he hasn’t had any contact with any woman in over 7 months because of tour.
could also be the way your eyes suddenly flutter at him or the way you touch his hand laying on the marble. “wouldn’t you like to know, old man.” you play into a game as michael’s breath suddenly hitch at your comment.
old man. pfft please.
michael grabs your hand firmly before making your face come inches across his own. you could smell a minty fresh scent coming off of him as you slowly inhale.
out of all the celebrities you’ve met so far, you never would’ve have expected to come across him. especially being so natural at what he does or how obnoxiously hot he looked and good he smelt.
“you’re a messy problem.”
“then fix it.”
were the last few words you can slip out of your mouth before the next thing you knew your body is pushed upon the tile wall behind you.
the bathroom door instantly clicks locked as michael’s hands rummaged through your hips all the way towards your chest. one hand grasping onto your left tit as he nibbles and sucks on the nape of your neck.
“you’re so sweet.” he murmurs on your skin as you felt his teeth suddenly graze down. michael was focused on having you feel the immense pleasure you could get from him.
your hands go up towards his hair as you sink your fingers in between each curl. without clearly thinking and in a sudden daze, you scrunch your fingers soon pulling onto michael’s hair.
with a deep groan, you gasp out momentarily. “i-im sorry i—“
michael bites your nipple sending waves of shock to transcend down your entire body. you were feeling already in pure ecstasy, even with him just fondling with your tits and biting onto your skin—leaving wet kisses down every crevice he could find empty.
“do it again.” was the only thing he commanded before continuing to give you pleasure. your fingers scrunch up again pulling his hair as he continued to groan, soon letting some sighs and whimpers to pass those pretty lips of his.
michael was STARVING.
he could feel his hips buckle ever so slightly and shifting in his pants as he continued to move down and onto the floor— feeling his knees now drop on the cold nightclub ground.
you, on the other hand, were in utter shock at the sight of michael dropping to his knees and lifting your left leg up to place over his shoulder.
you see his eyes glance up between your legs before pulling down your mini shorts. matching pink lace panties now obscure his view from his meal as he pulls them to the side, now seeing your cunt glisten with your wetness.
“they’re pretty but i needed to see what im eating tonight.” he spoke as he looks at you. your chest rapidly moving as you feel your breathing turn uneven at the sight in-front of you.
without speaking another word, michael dives his head deeper between your legs before placing his lips over your clit. the sudden poke of his tongue flicks over as you suddenly gasp at the feeling.
he starts working his way over—letting his lips shine with your slickness as he pushes your leg over his shoulder higher. at this point you felt your knees slightly shake at both the height your leg was lifted and the feeling of michael’s tongue entering your pussy with downward movements to taste yourself in his mouth.
you couldn’t handle the sensation he was giving you as you place your palm over his forehead, slightly touching his curls to try to push his head back a bit.
only for michael instead to slap your hand away before backing up himself willingly and spitting over your entrance. his spit dripping down your pretty cunt as he lifts his fingers up and smoothes out the drop of spit over. you cry out as you whisper his name under your breath repeatedly.
“michael michael please just—it’s too much” you felt tears slightly sting your eyes as he laughs at you, still letting the pads of his fingers softly touch you. he was mesmerized at the woman he had over his face. your bold, loud, and reckless demeanor instantly changing to sensitive and erotic simply made michael want you even more.
“you can do it baby.” he praises now slipping one finger inside, making your back pull away from the wall and back over it immediately. “you can be a show off dirty girl in-front of other men. married men. older men.”
michael continues now slipping another finger inside and another one. each word slipping his lips, each finger added now creating immense feeling building up in your lower stomach. your mind was hazy and your mouth suddenly dry.
you didn’t care to speak anymore because you knew it wouldn’t get you no where. “isn’t that right dollface?” he asks as you just open your mouth to suddenly shut it once more.
the mix between praise and degradation just submerged you to the deep end as you then feel michael’s free hand lift to your hip and trace figures amongst your lace panty line.
“michael i’m—“ michael suddenly catches you off guard now dipping his head once more while 3 slender fingers pump in and out of your entrance.
his tongue forcing himself inside with his fingers moving while also licking over your clit, made you finally lose control. michael senses it as he pulls back and continues working with his fingers. hooking them up to hit your spot slightly as a tease.
he knew the affect he had on you and right now it was the most important and hottest thing he’s ever done or seen the last few months of his life.
“let go for me baby. cmon..” your eyes shut as your head slides back in pleasure. “cum on my fingers you dirty doll.”
michael continues knowing he’s getting to you. closer and closer. his fingers still moving non-stop now hitting you in the perfect spot sending you to collide.
“think about me breeding that pretty pussy of yours. show me the preview of what i get.”
“oh god michael— yes!” you raise your voice at the thought of him deep inside of you. especially leaving his trace deep behind your pussy.
the idea of his cum leaking out in full display, the pressure of his cock deep in you, and the current feeling of his fingers pumping sends you over the edge as you gasp.
before you knew it, both your hands now come in contact with michael’s head as you release yourself over him.
his lips now going back as he places your pussy full down to come in contact with his face. michael grips your thigh before going to grip your hips as he suddenly rocks your lower body back and forth.
michael was letting you semi-ride his face as you give him more.
as the bathroom soon settles down into silence from your release, michael gently places your leg back down to the ground before holding your leg upright to prevent you from falling.
your knees were buckling as your legs were sore. you could barely even stand up if it weren’t for the fact that michael’s hands were holding you straight.
he pulls himself back up as your eyes go down to see the tightness in his pants. his growing bulge slightly poking out as he rubs his palm over the material.
“not so loud and proud after that right?” you roll your eyes before playfully giving him a smack on his shoulder. he laughs letting you hear his gentle chuckle as your heart beats at the sound.
“i know nothing is meant to leave the place but leave with me?” michael wasn’t asking. he was pretty much PLEADING.
you lean up to gently place your lips over his. your taste still lingering on his mouth as he uses his tongue to deepen the kiss even more. your tongues both intertwine as you give his a soft bite soon hearing him whimper and push himself closer to your body again, now parting away from your mouth.
“well i’d love to mr. jackson.”
michael playfully smiles hearing the name. at that moment he didn’t hate it as much as he normally did. maybe your soft voice and that look of your eyes made him go stupid. because the sound of that name leaving your mouth only made him more harder than he was before.
his hand grasps yours as he pulls the lock away from the door. soon opening the door to come across more people flooding the nightclub floor. suddenly you force michael to turn back around to face you.
“and it’s y/n! not sage btw.” michael stops before giving you a soft smile at the sudden truthfulness.
he knew you already had lied about who you were. the name you had given him was the same name and credentials the dj he met a few parties ago had.
he just didn’t have the time or headspace to ruin that little secret moment of yours.
“then y/n baby let’s go.” pulling you back near him you both soon begin heading out, hands still holding onto each-other tightly through the packed crowd.
you soon left everything behind— excluding the future you both carried outside the nightclub together afterwards.
