content ! 18+, unprotected p in v, praise, sweet sex, pet names (baby, honey)
"fuck!" you cry, throwing your head back and letting your jaw go slack. michael is pistoning his hips against yours relentlessly, the only sounds in the room being the lewd skin slapping and the heavy panting and moans emitting from both of you.
"i know, honey" he coos, trying his best to be sweet verbally despite how rough he's being with you physically. "m'sorry babygirl" he tries.
the stretch was borderline excruciating. he was just too big. the funny part is he doesn't even know he's that big! or atleast he didn't know it until you started screaming complaining about it.
"s'too big, michael!" you mewl, squirming under him, but you can't help but arch into him. it's almost instinctive.
"just breathe, baby... breathe" maybe he should take his own advice, because he's barely able to take in a full breath with just how tight your gummy walls are squeezing and fluttering around him.
"i- can't-" the pleasure becomes overwhelming when michael reaches in between the both of you to aimlessly rub at your clit, anything to get you to stop whining. he immediately notices your eyes roll back and your breath hitch. "s'that better honey?" he asks, "that feel a little better?" you nod frantically, barely able to compute his sweet words as you feel yourself growing closer and closer to coming undone. the sniveling and the cries coming from you morph into delighted moans as the stretch becomes euphoric, his praises egging you on impossibly.
"there she is" he purrs, a small, knowing smirk playing on his face.
"there's my girl" he litters your face with small kisses in an effort to calm you down as he continues his thrusts, growing closer to the edge himself.
"g-gosh- baby," he groans, his big fingers still working at your clit.
"feels s'good michael!" you moan, right at the edge. "yeah?" he moans right back at you. "that feels good, huh?" he speeds up his thrusts, making you squeal. "feel me so deep, yeah?" he looks down and sees himself poking through your lower belly. he reaches down and presses on the bulge, making you wince at the tightness. the bulge is disappearing and reappearing with every thrust. "shi-shoot, honey" he mutters.
you feel the white hot band in your tummy snap, pleasure shooting through your body as you cry out his name. that alone is enough to push him over the edge as well. he cums deep inside you, fucking into you a few last times. you both lay there, panting. he's heavy on top of you, laying sweaty on top of you (not that you mind). and of course, michael is quick to comfort you.
he pushes some of the hair out of your face, off of your damp, flushed skin. "you did so good, baby... m'sorry i was so rough" he speaks gently, kissing your forehead.
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summary: jermajesty suggests making a movie and you agree without a lick of hesitation
contains: heavily 18+, mdni!, oral ( m and f receiving), pinv, freaked out jermajesty, recording
notes: i saw a clip from the 2000s of kim k absolutely serving face and i learned that clip was actually from her tape so…. enjoy !
The red record light blinked and the camera made a click
In the reflection of the large bathroom mirror, Jermajesty stood right behind you. One of his hands was wrapped steadily around the camcorder, while the other cupped around your breast, slightly bouncing it in his hand
“look at my baby…doing her makeup” he zoomed in on your face in the mirror as you did your makeup in a very short yet oversized white button down that belonged to jermajesty
“shes gonna look so pretty when i fuck her” he mumbled earning a little giggle from you
he zoomed out, angling the camcorder down just enough to capture his large bulge rubbing against your butt
the camera clicked again
now, the two of you were pressed tight against each other, cheeks touching as you both looked directly into the lens. your fingers stroked along his jawline, tracing the sharp line of his face. clashing a playful grin, you playfully stuck your tongue out at the camera, and he mimicked you,
with a sudden tilt, the frame whipped toward the wall mirror, revealing that you were now completely straddling his lap.
his hand was resting comfortably on your butt before slapping it and then gripping it “jer!”
the camera clicked again but you were now holding it
Jermajesty had his head buried deep between your thighs. a soft, involuntary moan escaped your lips, your fingers burying themselves into his hair, gently tugging the strands to guide his way .
“just like that baby” you gasped, tilting the screen slightly. Jermajesty looked up from between your legs, catching the lens, and gave the camera a very confident wink.
click
you were sitting on the very edge of the mattress now, and Jermajesty stood over you
“open for me, baby," he ordered softly.
you looked up at him and slid your tongue out. he chuckled and lightly slapped the thick tip of his cock against your tongue. before you could even swallow, he cupped your jaw firmly, tilting your head back, and began to smoothly thrust into your mouth.
the camera recording went on for 10 more minutes capturing the raw and messiness all the way until he finally came on your tongue.
“good girl”
click
you were laying completely flat on your back now, holding the heavy camcorder up in the air, pointing it down at yourself.
completely ignoring the mess of the room, you focused entirely on the flip-out screen. you checked your angles, idly fluffing out your hair, and took your time reapplying a thick layer of lip gloss until your lips looked perfectly glassy in the low light.
you gave the camera a confident smile, thoroughly enjoying your own reflection.
you glanced slightly to the side, looking at Jermajesty who was currently just out of the frame, and then your eyes snapped right back to the lens.
you held the gaze of the camera, leaned in a little closer, and whispered, “I’m about to get fucked” before bursting into a quiet giggle.
click
the camera tilted wildly for a split second, the frame spinning past the ceiling fan before stabilizing as it was propped up on the side table right next to the head of the bed. the angle was low, wide, and caught everything.
you were on your hands and knees now, your back arched deeply as you looked up, checking your reflection in the flip-out screen one more time. the short white button down was bunched up around your waist, leaving you completely exposed.
Jermajesty kneeled right behind you, his hands instantly gripping your hips, his thumbs digging into your skin to anchor you in place. he didn't waste a second. He lined himself up and pushed all the way into you with one deep, heavy stroke.
a sharp gasp caught in your throat, your hands gripping the bedsheets as he started a relentless, demanding pace.
“look at you” Jermajesty growled, his voice thick and rough as he stared down at where your bodies met. “look how pretty you look taking my dick…you like looking at yourself in that screen, huh?”
“yeah" you whined, your head tossing back as he slammed into you, the friction loud in the quiet bedroom. “jer, please” you whined
“please what? tell me exactly what you want” he commanded, slapping his palm against your hip, the sound sharp and echoing through the room, he leaned his upper body down over yours, his chest pressing hard against your back as he kept driving into you from behind. “tell the camera how good it feels.”
“oh my gosh your stretching me out so good” you moaned, looking toward the lens, your eyes heavy-lidded and glassy with pleasure. “t-so big, baby... fuck.”
“that's it, talk to me” he mumbled, his lips brushing against your ear “show me that face you make when I’m deep inside you, look right at the camera for me”
you turned your head toward the screen, serving face even through the haze of pleasure, biting your bottom lip as Jermajesty sped up.
The mattress squeaked rhythmically, the audio capturing every wet, heavy slap of his thighs against yours.
“look at my fucking girl," Jermajesty praised, his grip shifting from your hips to the back of your hair, gently tugging your head back to force you to look up and back at him. “how deep is it baby, can you feel me in your stomach?”
“yes baby!” you gasped out, arching higher against him, completely intoxicated by his words and the view on the screen.
“your doing so good for the camera baby” he groaned, his pace turning frantic, completely losing his composure as he buried himself as deep as he possibly could inside you. “arch your back more for me…take it baby, don’t run”
click
you were flat on your back, your hips elevated off the mattress by a stack of pillows, with your legs draped completely over Jermajesty’s broad shoulders. ye was hovering over you, pinning your upper body down in a heavy, suffocating mating press that left absolutely no space between you.
“look at me” Jermajesty said in a possessive whisper, he then leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, before driving down into you with a slow, agonizingly deep stroke that made your eyes roll back.
“Jer...” you choked out, your hands flying up to grip the wooden headboard just above you to keep from sliding away. “your too deep, oh my god!”
"I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be," he began to grind his hips against yours, using his entire weight to press you down into the sheets, making sure you felt every single inch of him. “look at the camera, baby. let it see how you look when I fill up your pussy”
even pinned beneath him you were completely overwhelmed, you tilted your head toward the side table. you caught the reflection in the tiny flip-out screen,
your hair fanned out across the pillows, your lips parted as you let out a series of needy, broken whines and you held the camera’s gaze
“look at those pretty eyes” Jermajesty muttered, noticing where your attention went. he pulled back just enough to slam back into you, the force of it shaking the mattress and making the camcorder's view shudder slightly. “you love the way I fuck you on camera , don't you?”
“yes!” you cried out loudly, your fingers clawing at his shoulders now, pulling him down for a messy, desperate kiss. “don't stop, please, Jer, just like that!” you whined
“i'm not stopping," he promised against your mouth, his breath coming in heavy, ragged pants. His pace turned frantic, his hips hammering down in a relentless, bruising pace that completely locked you beneath him.
“your taking every fucking drop of me.”
The tape whirred to a sudden and complete stop.
you and jermajesty looked at the small screen and then out of each other completely breathless
Jermajesty let out a low, exhausted chuckle, leaning over to press a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “we really did that," he mumbled, his voice completely shot.
“we did” you breathed out, a proud, satisfied smile tugging at your lips. You tilted the camcorderup to look at yourself one last time, serving one final, sleepy look for the lens. “and honestly? the lighting was perfect.”
Jermajesty groaned, rolling onto his back and pulling a pillow over his face. “let’s keep this to ourselves and not leak it”
context: you discover an early sign of vitiligo on your son.
"You look just like me,"
You whispered into the dark nursery, leaning over the wooden railing to poke his soft thigh. "Don't listen to your father. You have my toes. And my ears. We basically twins, Peanut."
The nursery was quiet at three in the morning, save for the rhythmic, mechanical hum of the baby monitor and the soft, heavy breathing of five-month-old Sean—affectionately dubbed "Peanut" by Paris the very first day he came home from the hospital.
You stood over the crib, your hair wrapped in a silk bonnet, wearing one of Michael’s oversized flannel shirts as a makeshift robe. Peanut was fast asleep on his stomach, his little knees tucked up under his chest, his diapered bottom sticking up in the air. He had a full head of thick, tight, jet-black curls that defied gravity, a tiny button nose, and a pair of chubby, dimpled cheeks that you spend half your days kissing.
"Who are you tryna to convince, applehead?"
A low, raspy whisper came from the doorway. You turned to see Michael leaning against the frame, his frame silhouetted by the dim hallway light. He was wearing black pajama pants and a loose white V-neck, his own hair tied back in a messy, loose bun. He looked exhausted from a long string of meetings with his management team, but the moment his eyes landed on the crib, that soft, incredibly smug fatherly smile broke across his face.
He walked over on quiet tiptoes, the floorboards barely groaning beneath his feet, and slid his arms around your waist from behind. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his skin warm against your neck, smelling of lotion and the lavender soap he used before bed.
"I'm not trying to convince anyone," you sniffed playfully, leaning back into his chest. "I carried this child for nine months, Michael. I endured swollen ankles, heartburn, and a literal midnight delivery. I deserve at least one feature."
Michael let out a breathless, silent laugh against your neck, his chest vibrating against your back. He peered down at the sleeping baby. "Beautiful, you are a vision, and I love you with all my heart, but that boy is a literal carbon copy of me from the Gary days. Look at that lip. Look at those curls. You just provided the penthouse suite for nine months."
"A penthouse suite is crazy." you mumbled, turning in his arms to face him. But you couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips.
He wasn't lying. When Peanut had been born five months ago, it had been a whirlwind of emotion. The labor had been fast and furious, hitting you like a freight train in the middle of the night. You remembered Michael panicking, trying to grab the prepackaged hospital bag while simultaneously tripping over Blanket’s toys, while Prince and Paris stood at the top of the stairs in their pajamas, cheering you on like you were running a marathon.
When the doctor had finally handed the baby to you, wrapped in a striped hospital blanket, the room had gone completely still. Michael had wept openly, his hands shaking as he cut the cord, falling to his knees by the bedside to kiss your damp forehead over and over again. And when the rest of the Jackson clan had come to visit the ranch a few weeks later, the agreement had been immediate. Katherine had held the baby close to her chest, her eyes crinkling with tears as she whispered,
“Oh, Mike, he looks just like you did when you were a baby. Exactly like you.” Every single one of Michael's brothers had teased him about having a literal clone running around the house.
Life with a newborn had turned Neverland into a beautiful, chaotic playground.
Prince and Paris had adapted to their roles as big siblings with fierce, almost comical devotion. Prince considered himself the "Head of Security" for the nursery, strictly monitoring who entered and making sure anyone who wanted to hold the baby used a generous pump of hand sanitizer first.
Paris treated Peanut like her live-in doll, constantly picking out his little onesies, singing him off-key lullabies, and insisting on holding his bottle during feeding times. Even little Blanket, who was still the baby of the house himself, would toddle into the nursery just to press his favorite blue blanket against the baby’s tiny feet, making sure his little brother was warm.
By the afternoon, the heat of the California sun had mellowed into a golden, lazy warmth that flooded through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the main living room.
The house was filled with the comfortable, domestic sounds of a family at peace. Peanut was down on the rug, happily playing inside his large mesh playpen. He was surrounded by a generous assortment of soft plush animals and a bright plastic teething ring that he was currently gnawing on with pure determination. Prince and Blanket were sitting on the hardwood floor right next to the pen, intensely focused on a massive game of ‘who can build the biggest lego tower’.
They were building an elaborate, multi-tiered fortress completely surrounding the playpen, treating their baby brother like a royal king protected inside an impenetrable castle.
"Don't put that block there, Bigi, it's gonna fall on the perimeter," Prince instructed in his serious, older-brother voice, carefully balancing a wooden piece. Blanket just let out a quiet grunt, happily passing Prince another block, his eyes occasionally darting to Peanut to make sure the baby was still smiling.
A few paces away, the open-concept kitchen was separated from the living room by a wide marble island. You and Michael were working together in tandem, preparing a late lunch for the kids. The radio was playing a soft, soulful Motown track in the background. Michael was humming along, his hips swaying slightly to the rhythm as he expertly sliced up red apples and peeling oranges on a wooden cutting board. You were beside him, assembling ham and cheese sandwiches, spreading mayonnaise over the white bread with practiced ease.
"Think we should take them to the movie theater on the property later?" Michael asked softly, tossing a small piece of apple into his mouth. "Prince said he wanted to see that new cartoon again."
"Only if you promise not to let them eat their weight in snacks before dinner," you replied, nudging his hip with yours. "Last time, Paris had a sugar rush that lasted until midnight."
Michael chuckled, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. "Hey, I can't help it if the concession stand has the best—"
The heavy, frantic slap-slap-slap of bare feet sprinting down the long hallway shattered the peaceful atmosphere.
The kitchen doors flew open with a loud thud. Paris stood in the frame, her chest heaving underneath her overalls, her eyes wide with a sudden, absolute panic. Her little hands were gripping the edges of her shirt.
"Mama! Daddy! Come quick!" she gasped out, her voice trembling with an innocent but terrifying urgency. "Peanut's skin is coming off! It’s gone!"
Your heart violently dropped into your stomach like a lead weight. The butter knife slipped from your fingers, clattering loudly against the marble counter. A cold, suffocating wave of pure adrenaline rushed through your veins. "What?!" you shrieked, your maternal instinct instantly flaring into overdrive.
Michael didn't even speak. The apple slice he was holding dropped to the floor as his face went completely pale. He vaulted past the kitchen island, his long legs carrying him down the hallway in a blur of motion. You were right on his heels, your heart hammering against your ribs as a million horrific medical scenarios flashed through your mind—burns, a sudden allergic reaction, an infection, ANYTHING.
Michael burst into the living room, practically sliding on the polished wood floor to reach the playpen. Prince and Blanket looked up, startled by the sudden, dramatic entrance of their parents.
You scrambled in right behind Michael, your hands shaking as you reached into the mesh pen and scooped a confused Peanut up into your arms. You frantically turned him over, inspecting his face, his chubby hands, his neck, his ears. Peanut just blinked his wide, dark eyes up at you, completely unfazed, letting out a wet bubble and waving his arms.
"Where, Paris? Where is it?!" you breathed, your voice cracking as you scanned his skin.
Paris rushed over, pointing a trembling finger at the baby's left side, right under his arm. "Right there! I saw it when he rolled over to grab his toys! His skin is rubbing off!"
You didn't hesitate. With trembling fingers, you gently gathered the hem of the baby's soft cotton onesie and unsnapped it, pulling the fabric up to expose his chubby little torso and ribcage. You carefully turned him toward the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window, your eyes scanning the rich, beautiful brown complexion of his skin.
And then, you saw it.
Right near his ribs, just below his tiny armpit, there was a small, irregular patch of skin about the size of a dime. It wasn't bleeding. It wasn't raw, or peeling, or inflamed. It wasn't a rash.
It was simply a patch of skin that was completely devoid of its pigment—a stark, milky-white contrast against the rest of his smooth, dark skin.
You let out a long, ragged breath, the immediate terror of a physical injury or a chemical burn leaving your body. You ran a gentle, soothing thumb over the spot. It felt perfectly smooth. Exactly like the rest of him. "It's... it's just a light spot, Paris," you whispered, trying to calm your own racing pulse. "Maybe a new birthmark. He's okay."
You turned your head to look at Michael, expecting him to give a sigh of relief.
The words caught completely in your throat.
Michael hadn't moved. He was frozen on his knees beside the playpen, his gaze locked entirely on the nickel-sized white patch on his son's torso. Every single drop of color had drained from his face, leaving him a ghostly, fragile shade of pale. His jaw was slightly slack, his lips parted, and his dark eyes were wide, glassy, and completely unblinking.
He didn't cry. He didn't make a sound. But the sheer, agonizing weight of a silent realization hung over him like a suffocating shroud.
He knew exactly what it was.
It was vitiligo.
It was the very same autoimmune disease that had ravaged his own body, turned his teenage years into a nightmare, and transformed his adulthood into a cruel media circus. It was the disease that had physically altered him, causing him decades of physical pain in the sun and unimaginable emotional scarring from a world that refused to believe he was sick.
And now, it was appearing on his innocent, five-month-old baby boy—years, decades earlier than it had ever appeared on him.
"Baby?" you murmured softly, your voice dropping into a cautious, protective register. The kids were watching, and the sudden, heavy silence in the room was making them uneasy.
Michael didn't look up. He couldn't. His hands, usually so expressive and steady, were visibly trembling as he slowly reached out. His index finger hovered just a millimeter above the white patch on Peanut's skin. He looked like he wanted to touch it, to wish it away, but he was too terrified that his touch would somehow make it real.
Prince looked between you and his father, his brow furrowing with that quiet, intuitive maturity he often showed. "Dad? Is Peanut sick?"
The sound of his oldest son's voice seemed to snap a cord inside Michael. He closed his eyes for a brief second, swallowing hard, forcing the raw panic down into the deepest recesses of his chest. When he opened his eyes, he forced a weak, incredibly gentle smile onto his face, though his eyes remained entirely hollow.
"No, Prince. Peanut isn't sick. He's perfectly healthy," Michael whispered, his voice remarkably controlled, though it carried a fragile, paper-thin edge. He looked at Paris, reaching out to tousle her hair. "You did a good job watching your brother, Paris. Thank you for telling us."
He cleared his throat, standing up with a deliberate, slow movement. "Prince, why don't you take Paris and Blanket back to the kitchen? Go ahead and start on the fruit slices. Mama and I will be right there in just a minute. We're just going to change Peanut's diaper."
Prince searched his father's face for a moment, then nodded solemnly. He took Paris and Blanket by their hands, leading them quietly out of the living room. The wooden doors of the kitchen swung shut behind them, leaving the room entirely silent.
The moment the kids were out of sight, the mask completely fell away.
Michael didn't cry, but he looked entirely, completely drained, as if the physical energy required to hold himself together had aged him ten years in a span of ten seconds. He sank back onto the couch, burying his face in his hands, his breathing shallow and ragged.
You didn't say a word. You carefully tucked Peanut back into his onesie, snapping it shut, and carried him over to the couch. You sat down right next to Michael, placing the baby gently in the space between you. Peanut, completely unaware of the heavy gravity in the room, immediately rolled onto his side and began to happily pull at the fabric of Michael's pajama pants.
You wrapped your arm around Michael’s shoulders, pulling his rigid, trembling frame against your side. "Michael," you murmured, your voice a steady, grounding anchor in the dark. "Honey, talk to me. Look at me, baby."
Slowly, Michael dropped his hands from his face. His eyes were bloodshot, staring blankly ahead at the wall.
"I passed it to him," he whispered, his voice entirely devoid of its usual melodic warmth. It was a flat, broken sound. "I prayed so hard. Every single night since you told me you were pregnant... I begged God to let him have your skin. To let him be safe from this."
He turned his head to look at you, and the sheer, raw vulnerability in his eyes broke your heart.
"Before I met you... my ex-partners, they... they didn't want to have children with me because of it," Michael confessed, his voice dropping into a raw, painful whisper, sharing a piece of trauma he had kept locked away for years. "They were terrified. One of them told me straight to my face that she didn't want to risk having a child who would get the vitiligo, or a child who would be too dark, or a child who would look like... like a freak to the world. They were scared of my genetics. They were scared of me."
Your grip tightened around his shoulder, your fingers digging into his shirt as a fierce, protective anger surged through you on his behalf.
"And I started to believe them," Michael continued, a bitter, hollow smile touching his lips. "I started to think that maybe I shouldn't have any more kids. Because look what I did to him. He's only five months old, and it's already starting. The world is going to tear him apart, Baby. They're going to accuse him of trying to change, they're going to call him names, they're going to look at his skin like it's a mistake. He looks just like me, and now he's going to have to suffer just like me."
"Michael, look at me," you commanded gently, reaching up with your free hand to firmly cup his jaw, forcing his eyes to lock onto yours. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone. "Listen to me very carefully."
Michael blinked, his breath hitching as he looked into your eyes.
"Those women were blind, and they didn't deserve a single piece of the beautiful man you are," you said, your voice fierce, steady, and filled with an absolute, unwavering certainty. "You did not curse our son. You gave him life. You gave him those big beautiful eyes, that sweet smile, and a soul that is going to be just as kind and brilliant as his father's."
You leaned down, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to his forehead, then to his lips, letting him feel the entire weight of your love.
"And you listen to me," you continued, sliding your hand down to rest over his heart. "The world is different now. He is not going to go through what you went through alone. Do you know why?"
Michael swallowed hard, his dark eyes searching yours. "Why?"
"Because when you were a kid going through this, you didn't have anyone who understood," you whispered, a tear of your own finally slipping down your cheek. "But Peanut has you. He has a father who knows exactly how it feels, who can teach him how to be strong, how to hold his head high, and how to love himself. And he has a mother who will tear this entire industry apart before she lets anyone make her baby feel any less than perfect."
You shifted slightly, picking up Peanut and placing him directly into Michael’s lap. The baby immediately let out a happy coo, his tiny, chubby hands reaching up to blindly grab at the silver buttons on Michael's shirt.
"Look at him, Mikey," you murmured softly. "He doesn't care about a spot on his skin. He just wants his daddy."
Michael looked down at his son. He watched as Peanut's little fingers tangled in his shirt, his big, round eyes full of absolute, unconditional adoration for the man holding him.
Slowly, the heavy, suffocating tension began to melt out of Michael's shoulders. He let out a long, shaky breath—not a sob of defeat, but a release of the agonizing fear he had carried alone for decades. He wrapped his long, slender arms around the baby, pulling Peanut close against his chest, burying his face into the baby’s sweet, lotion-scented curls.
He reached out with his other arm, wrapping it securely around your waist and pulling you into the tight, fiercely protective circle.
"Thank you," Michael whispered against the baby's hair, his voice thick but finally steady, anchored by the strength you had poured into him. "Thank you, Mama. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'll never have to find out," you murmured, leaning your head against his shoulder as the three of you sat together in the soft sunlight. "We're a team."
Something like the reader catches micheal attempting to jerk off and embarrassingly forces him to admit to what he was doing while she "punishes" him
craving subby michael? don’t even joke lad.
Need Help ?
contains otw!era michael, smut (minors dni), handjob, edging, teasing, sub!michael, he’s pathetic as fuckkkk, ur mean, semi-proofread
Tonight, like most nights, everyone’s focus was on Michael. A private dinner in the backyard of Hayvenhurst, close loved ones in the rising pop star’s heart celebrating the success of his newest album, Off The Wall. First solo album where he had creative control, and could finally become a proper solo artist without no longer being tied to The Jackson 5.
Friends shook his hand, family giving him a tight hug while whispering a quick ‘I’m so proud of you’ in his ear, but nobody’s support could’ve outshined yours.
Of course you were there. It’s impossible for him to picture a universe where you weren’t in his life, by his side, helping with every hardship he’s faced. You couldn’t imagine yourself holding any other title other than Michael Jackson’s best friend, because of how perfect the role has sat within you over the years.
However, Michael is beginning to disagree. Especially with tonight, losing count how many times his eyes have taken him to your direction.
How oblivious you are to the way his gaze undresses you from where he sits beside, soaking up every gussied feature on you. The way your dress hasn’t missed a curve of yours to hug, breasts being nicely lifted, wanting to see how well they would fit in the palms of his hands instead. The way he’s now realizing how stunning gold jewelry looks against the complexion of your skin, giving him an idea on what to gift you for your next birthday. The way the glossy red on your lips reminds him of freshly picked strawberries in the spring, wondering if it would taste like them too if he closed the distance.
The way he knew he accidentally let his fantasies run a little too long, a tent in his pants starting to form.
“Isn’t that right, Michael?” You bring him back to reality, surroundings no longer quiet. He’s quick to bring a hand to cover his crotch as subtly as he could make it look, forgetting just how many people are here.
“Uhm, sorry, what?”
You gave him a scolding look for not paying attention, nodding your head towards his mother. “I was bringing up when you came over for the first time, and didn’t know I had a dog.”
You and his mother start giggling as you both reminisce, even more so at the color leaving his face, thinking it’s because of the mortifying memory being brought up.
No, it’s actually because he got a whiff of your dreamy vanilla perfume scent, and it went immediately to his dick, pants getting tighter.
“Oh my gosh, the scream you let out when my tiny baby tried jumping on your lap to give you kisses! People down the road thought someone was dying.”
Your guys’ laughter is drown out as he mentally draws a plan to escape, needing to be anywhere but here.
Michael barely was discreet in the way he stood up so suddenly, startling you two, about to bring a concerned hand to his side.
“Michael? Are you alri—“
“Sorry, gotta pee.” Is all he said before speed-walking across the lawn, ignoring any family member trying to stop him for a quick conversation on the way.
In a blink of an eye, Michael found himself in his room upstairs, shutting the door with one hand and fumbling his belt open with the other. He’s painfully hard, no strength he can find within him to ignore it.
The edge of the bed dips as he sits, pants and boxers shoved only halfway to his legs, impatient to wrap his palm around his erection.
The memory of your appearance and smell sharpens as he begins to touch himself, quieting his breathing as best he could.
His strokes are slow, eyes slipping closed, attempting to ignore the first burn of guilt brewing deep in his stomach for having such thoughts about his best friend, while having a bunch of family over.
Having his eyes closed had him fail to see the way he forgot to lock the door in the hurry he was in to be alone, knob turning to reveal you entering.
“Michael? Are you in her—“
You didn’t finish your sentence. The words died on your tongue as soon as you saw him jump from being frightened, hard cock still in hand. You wanted to check up on him, because it’s been a minute since he left for the bathroom. You were worried bringing up that embarrassing moment of his with your dog might’ve been too far on your part, so you searched to comfort him.
Yet, this wasn’t the sight you were expecting yourself to see upon entering his room. You also weren’t expecting yourself to feel your stomach do a weird flip as he begin to struggle to find the right words to explain himself, breath held hostage in his throat.
He stutters out your name, brain lagging, trying to find a version of reality where this isn’t happening. “Wh— I—I’m so sorry, shit—“
Michael doesn’t hear the click of you locking the door, or see you slowly make your way over to him, too busy trying to get his pants back on and avoid your possible disgusted stare.
“I — I was just—“ his voice cracks, sounding like he’s about to cry, too humiliated to even breathe. “Please just forget about this and go back downstairs, this is so embar—“
You cut him off. “Were you thinking of me?”
His eyes now meet yours, because he isn’t sure if he heard you correctly. You don’t blink, holding his stare, a tilt of your head to urge him to answer you.
He flinches in surprise when you take a seat next to him, giving one look down then pinning him again with your gaze. “Did I do that?”
The air between you thickens, heavy with something searing. He sees the way your lips part, breath fanning warm against his cheek, watching how you’re savoring this moment rather than being embarrassed for him, like any other person would.
“What? N-No, I mean—“
You cut him off again. “Don’t lie to me, Mikey. I’ve seen the way you’ve been staring at me all night.”
Oh, so you weren’t oblivious like he thought.
You can see how afraid he was to speak, not too sure if this is truly happening or not.
“I’d be a terrible best friend to not help you out, wouldn’t I? After all, I did cause this.” You gently remove his hand that’s been hiding his cock from you, causing the heat to pulse through him like a wave.
Michael’s mind is in a battle of being convinced if he’s dreaming or not. He hates the way his legs instinctively open up for you, heart pounding like it’s trying to burst out of his ribs. Shame still clings onto his skin like sweat, but he doesn’t dwell on it any further as soon as your fingers curl around his thick length.
You give him a slow stroke, watching the way his jaw tightens. You revel in how he doesn’t know whether to stop you or take lead, resorting to just bunching the sheets beneath where you two sit.
“Do you know how many people downstairs are wondering where you are?” Your thumb circles the head and you let your hand linger there, not quite giving what he needs, not quite letting him have anything at all.
“Not knowing you’re hiding, touching yourself to the thought of me.” You finally hear him make a sound, the smallest of a mewl. You graze your mouth over his cheek, then to the corner of his mouth, careful not to give him the satisfaction of a real kiss. “How disrespectful, during a party thrown for you.”
He shakes his head, wishing he couldn’t hear how pathetic his tone is right now. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, just..!”
You blink through your lashes innocently, ignoring how his cock glistens in your fist. “Please just what? Please just keep moving my hand like this?” You tease as you drag your palm a little faster, just enough to make his hips jerk.
He nods, lips pressed tight, not wanting to hear the whine in his voice again. Yet you wouldn’t let that cross, strokes going back to slow, squeezing tight at the base. “It looks like you want something. You want to come, huh? Tell me. Tell me or I’ll stop.”
He swallows any drop of dignity left in him, brain completely turned to mush. He nods, pathetic as ever, a whimper evident through his words. “Yes, yes, I want to come.”
You smile, bottom lip caught between your teeth. You didn’t think how easy this would be, turning him into a babbling dumb mess under your touch. How long has he been yearning for this? As long as you have?
You continue working your hand but begin to hum in thought. “Hmm, I don’t know.” You tease the sensitive spot just under the head with your thumb until his hips jerk up again and swear under his breath. “Maybe if you tell me you’re sorry again for sneaking away to jerk off.”
He doesn’t even hesitate, the pleasure becoming too loud. “I’m sorry! Very, very sorry, I’m— oh!”
You flick your tongue to taste his lower lip, making him chase your mouth as you pull away, grinning. “I’m sorry to who?”
“Y-You…!” He shudders, heart pounding at the sound of your voice as you hold him right there. Your hand on his cock, mouth teasing him, the look in your eyes as you make him wait, make him admit how humiliating he made this situation become for himself.
You feign confusion, but your hand never slows. “Im sorry for what?”
God, you’re killing him.
“For t-touching myself!” He responds with a moan breaking out of his chest, hips bucking up into your hand without any sense of control anymore. You have your eyes meet his again, to have him see how much you love having him desperate beneath you.
“Say please again.”
His voice cracks, the knot of desire tightening in him until he can barely see straight. “Please— God, please let me come.”
And then you stopped. You pull your hand away, ignoring the way his cock twitches for its familiar warmth back. His gasp is filled with frustration punched deep in his chest, near orgasm snatched from him so quick it left him dazed and at a loss for words.
You go to stand, fixing your dress that rid up a little.
“I’ll let you do it yourself. Next time, don’t ever hide away from me.”
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— SUMMARY: Michael is always so shy whenever you two are intimate, so you work him up so you can hear him pleasure himself while you “sleep.”
— WARNINGS: sub!mike, masturbation (m), whining, voyeurism, getting caught, humiliation kink, somnophilia, use of daddy to tease, use of mama, smut with not much plot (who cheered), not proofread (yet!)
— WC: 2.2k
— A/N: Loosely ib this tweet. Took me forever to get around to this because i wanted it to be perfect, but i got wine drunk and wrote this in one sitting lol..
“C’mere ‘n kiss me, pretty boy.”
You knew that was gonna get him going, and that’s exactly why you said it.
Michael practically flew to the bed after shutting off your shared bedroom’s light and almost throwing his reading glasses on his nightstand. A small part of you wanted to roll your eyes at the subconscious action; he never wanted the lights on, and all you wanted to do was see his pretty face contorted in pleasure while he fucked you into the sheets. The only light coming through the room was from the TV on your dresser, silently humming in the background.
“Mmm, you smell so good,” he whispered to you shyly in between pecks.
You knew. You took extra time with your skincare and shower tonight, purposefully applying lotions and body oils that you noticed made him crazy.
Making a conscious decision not to give him any sort of relief, you changed your position from being on your side to straddling his thighs, careful not to to grind the prominent bulge growing underneath his endearing money-print pajamas. He wasn’t wearing underwear, perfect.
He pulled away, eyeing you with heavy lids. He was so easy for you and you took advantage of that fact any time you could.
“This lil’ number…You look perfect. Like a doll.” He bit his lip and adjusted your strap as his gaze traveled down the length of the red slip dress you were wearing. His favorite color.
Cupping the back of your neck with his hand, he pulled you in for another kiss, this one hungrier than the last.
His tongue immediately darted into your mouth the moment your lips parted, wasting no time for a buildup. He was starving.
You pulled away as far as you could with his strong grip on your neck.
“Someone’s a little eager. You hungry, daddy?” you teased, drawing out ‘daddy’ the way you did when you wanted to push his buttons. It worked. He made a little tortured sound at the back of his throat and cleared it to hide it.
Irritated with his bashfulness, you started slowly grinding against his thighs, stopping just short of his surely leaking sex.
“‘Cause I am,” you added.
He fluttered his eyes, not leaving them closed nor open, torn between shutting them in anticipated pleasure or watching the dreamlike scene in front of him.
“Stop hidin’. I wanna see those pretty eyes. Please, baby?” you asked him sweetly. The two of you loved this little game you had; you pretended he was daddy, and you asked him please, and you told him thank you, but you were always in control. Something about the act of asking for ‘permission’ and taking the ‘control’ from Michael added to the fun.
His eyeballs flew open immediately, almost comically bulging. Leaning down teasingly slow, you connected your lips once again, and his large hand, still at the nape of your neck, held you impossibly close. With your tongues swirling and your core still grinding painfully close to his, he was swimming in need. It only worsened when you started moaning into his mouth like a cat in heat. He wanted to whine out so badly, but the idea of you hearing how pathetic he was getting stopped him.
His free hand snaked its way to your waist and attempted to pull you closer, to break that infinitesimal gap between you. Not wanting to give in, you slapped it away harshly and placed your hand on his neck, daring to squeeze.
“Oh, god. You’re gonna drive me insane, baby. Please,” he almost whined. He attempted to dive back in for another kiss to conceal how flustered he was. You pressed your other hand to his chest and pushed him into the pillows.
“Whatcha pleadin’ for?” you questioned seductively, tightening the grip around his neck ever so slightly.
“C’mon, you gonna make me say it?” He looked at you, offended.
“Use your words, love. I’m not a mind reader y’know.” You felt on top of the world.
Michael was soaking through his pajama pants now; you could feel a wet spot on its fabric. With this in mind, you faked a yawn, setting your plan into action.
He still said nothing.
“Mmm, well I’m tired. Gonna go to sleep, ‘kay?” You adjusted your hands and position on top of him so fast, it seemed almost impossible that you were close to making him cum untouched.
“W-wait, we didn’t even get to do…I want…” he trailed off.
“Hm?” You pretended to be confused, feeling him adjust himself beneath you.
“I…ah-” Your body pressed against his hard on, as you pretended to innocently give him a hug, “N-nothing. G’night, angel. I love you.”
You pressed a kiss to his chin, shifting your hips against his again, and whispered, “I love you, Mikey. Gonna dream of you.”
He slightly titled his body over to let you roll off of him, and tucked you under the blankets tenderly, trying his hardest to ignore the unattended lust growing inside of him.
Michael decided to try and pay attention to the old black & white comedy on television, but every few minutes, he’d take a look at you and his dick would throb hungrily. You were wearing nothing under your slip dress, and your bare ass and sticky folds were peeking through the edge of the blanket on top of you.
After about 10 minutes, you made a show of taking loud, even breaths in an attempt to prove that you’d fallen asleep. You started softly sighing and whimpering ever so slightly- the way you knew you always did in your sleep- only this time more suggestively.
Around minute 14, you’d almost given up on the whole act, realizing Michael was probably too shy to even think about touching himself next to you, even if you were asleep. You were wrong.
He couldn’t take it. He tried. Really, truly tried, but he was hurting, and it’s not like he’d have to tell you.
Hesitantly, after lifting the blanket off of your backside to reveal your naked body to him some more, he quietly drooled into his hand and dipped it into his pants. His fingers lingered on his pelvis, trailing teasing paths around the area just like you would. The thought of your hand there made him lose himself too quickly, and his wet and sticky hand found his sore dick and tugged graciously from base to tip.
The absolute…pervertedness of his actions only somehow turned him on more. The fact that you could wake up to take a sip of water, or you could turn over to him wanting to cuddle…It all added to the desire.
A secret part of him wanted to be caught. To be humiliated by you seeing the worked up state you coaxed him into.
The waistband of his pajama pants became a barrier, a nuisance of an obstacle stopping him from experiencing the extent of pleasure that he wanted to. If he was gonna do this, he might as well go all the way, right?
So, he slid them off with his legs, not enough care in his mind to see if the movement made you stir in your sleep.
He jerked himself with an easier motion now: up and twist, and down and tug, and up and twist. Over and over and over. The exact way you did with both of your pretty hands.
“Mmph,” he whimpered. Silently, but it was still louder than he’d usually let you hear.
Your heart pounded brutally. He was really doing it.
Being greedy, you stirred a bit in your ‘sleep,’ positioning yourself in between being on your back and on your side, in his direction. You let out a theatrical sleep moan, and Michael froze.
He looked you over for a bit, focusing on your face to make sure you weren’t looking. Then, his horny gaze flitted to what was in between your thighs, wide open and fully on display for him. He continued.
She’s still so wet for me, he thought to himself.
The truth was, you were unfortunately getting wetter and wetter just by hearing him while you were turned around.
Facing him without watching was proving to be a challenge though, because he started making noise, and lots of it.
“God- yes. Please…please…” he begged. He was still looking at you through lidded eyes and tugging his dick at a relentlessly slow pace, imagining you teasing him and making him beg for it.
You squeezed your thighs together a little too harshly, feeling the pressure on your clit at the action.
He looked at you more intensely then, still pumping himself, but taken by surprise at the loud slap of your legs closing.
“No…” he whispered to himself. He wanted you to stay spread.
He reached his free hand over and separated your legs again, taking in just how close you’d gotten to him while you tossed and turned. The scent of your body oil hit the back of his throat at the same time he twisted his wrist at his tip, and he moaned. A full, throaty moan of erotic pleasure and need, and he didn’t even care.
Still having half a mind not to wake you, he ghosted his fingers over one of your inner thighs. He needed to touch you. To ground himself. That only made it worse, though, because he felt your arousal half dried on your thigh.
“O-oh. Angel, please...L-love it when…” He was speaking nonsense now, just saying any thought that came into his head. He’s never been this loud masturbating even completely alone.
His pumping grew faster, and you could hear the lewd sounds of his precum and spit squelching around his patterned dick. You wanted to look so badly.
“P…lease, I-i’ll be good. Please, please…” he babbled.
What’s he thinkin’ about? you wondered to yourself.
He was trying to edge himself. Just like you did. He was gripping his base harder and speeding up his jerking just the way you would whenever you were working him to an orgasm, only to snatch it away from him.
His hand snaked closer to your pussy, and he collected the arousal. He was craving this. He stuffed his fingers into his mouth, and his eyes fluttered shut at the taste.
“Ngh, so good, b-baby,” he moaned around his fingers, complimenting his mind’s imagination of you. He was being unabashedly loud now, the desire to be caught fucking his own fist like a needy loser ever growing.
The feeling of your body heat next to him while he did this was only adding fuel to the fire rising to his abdomen. He was so close. Droplets of his precum were landing on his pelvis in bursts.
“So close- ngh- ahh- I need-” He yanked his hand away immediately — he almost orgasmed.
“Dammit…” he protested to nobody. Removing his fingers from his drooling mouth, he looked at you and started pumping his crying sex slowly again.
“S-so pretty…” He scooted closer to you, his shoulder grazing yours, and placed his hand right back on top of your sticky pussy.
“‘M sorry, mama. Th-this is so dirty..” he apologized as if you could hear him. It was more to spare his own guilt, though. Your eyes fluttered slightly, and he traced one long finger across your clit, making you mewl silently. At the sight and sound of you getting worked up in your ‘sleep,’ he grew even more desperate than before. The pace he had set for himself quickened, and he flattened his hand against your folds. He wasn’t moving it, he just wanted to feel you.
Up, twist, down, yank, up, twist, down, tug.
His pace was almost unforgiving, his hand was moving so fast he couldn’t even believe he was doing it himself. The atmosphere felt electric. His precum was settling between the webs of his fingers, he was fully twitching against your side, and his eyes never left the sight of his huge hand blanketing your core.
“F-fu…I’m…AGH-” His body jolted upwards and his scream caught in the back of his throat. The pressure of Michael’s release felt like a water balloon hitting asphalt; a violent shatter. His toes curled in a way that would surely make them cramp later, he gripped your inner thigh, and his hips stuttered and spasmed as he milked himself dry. He moaned and whimpered and cried and thanked your relaxed figure.
Your heart was hammering, and you squinted just so you could see him in this state. He was beautiful. His hair was stuck to his forehead and flat against the back of his head. Cum was splattered against his abdomen, thighs, and pelvis. His mouth was shaped in an ‘O’, and his eyebrows were knotted so tight, it looked like it should hurt. You were awestruck.
He finally fell limp after what felt like the longest orgasm known to mankind, and he slid his hand off of you and scooted away a bit. His mind was unfogging just enough to care about your personal space and beauty sleep now.
Breathing finally even, he stretched his hands up and took a deep breath, feeling unbelievably satisfied and guilty.
Your eyes were fully open now, staring the side of his head down, and he hadn’t noticed. Reaching over silently, you swiped a droplet of cum off of his stomach and sucked your finger, moaning around it loudly. His heart nearly fell to his toes when he looked at you, guilt written all over his face.
“Thanks for the show, daddy. You sing beautifully.”
⋆𓏲ּ𝄢 1995 || HIStory era || husband!michael.j x wife!reader ⋆𓏲ּ𝄢
this has been in my drafts for a while im not a big fan of it but ✌️
ִֶָ۶ৎ˖ִ ˚ synopsis: you and michael get asked that same question once again and michael cant help but reminisce to the steamy night before
۶ৎ˖ִ ˚ wc: 2.1k
ִֶָ۶ৎ˖ִ ˚ cw: invasive media questions, sub!michael, dry humping, nip play, unprotected p in v sex, cowgirl!pos, creampie, kissing, rubbing/touching, teasing/flirting, mdni !! not exactly proofread
“Are you two intimate?”
You internally roll your eyes. Live audience questions were always asking about you and Michael’s sex life. No matter how many times Michael dodged the question, it always came back to the same invasive curiosity, dressed up as harmless interest.
You look over to him, catching the same awkward smile he always gave every time the topic was brought up. He can't even look at you, staring somewhere by his shoes, he hesitates. “Why do you guys always ask this?-“ he tries to laugh it off. You can't help the faint grin quirking up at the corner of your lip knowing everything he's not saying.
Because he cant.
Its never that simple.
Michael couldn’t tell the journalist and the thousands of fans watching live how, just the night before, he’d been lounging on his bed, half-watching whatever was on TV. More focused on waiting for you to come out of the bathroom, listening for the water to shut off, for your wet footsteps on the floor because he simply couldn't resist you.
Michael turned his head towards the sound of the doorknob, brown eyes locking onto you instantly. Enjoying the way that the towel was draped loosely, a single fold hiding nothing. The dip of your cleavage, the damp curve of your shoulders decorated with small beads of water. his gaze flicking up to betray him, taking slow, heated sweeps down and back up.
“Miss me?” you ask, breaking the quiet.
Of course he did, it was only yesterday when he was holding a show, which was “Great.” in his words as usually you’d be sitting there front row cheering him on from the second he took stage. Except this time, you’d had other plans.
Plans that involved missing the show altogether.
Michael understood you had other things to do outside of being the love of his life. And he knew you couldn’t always just drop everything for him 24/7.
He knew that. Really, he did.
But that didn’t change the fact your absence yesterday still bothered him.
“Always, my angel," he murmured as you padded over now dressed in nothing but a loose camisole and panties, slipping between his spread legs where he sat on the edge of the bed. His large hands slid to your hips, slightly tugging you some inches closer.
“Are you still upset about the show?” Your fingers absently traced his jaw; the other sliding down the column of his neck as you tried to read his expression.
“What? No.” he was always such a terrible liar.
“Right,” you answered not buying it at all. “Michael, baby, you do understand that i was busy right?”
‘Busy’ the word alone making Michael’s fingers tighten briefly. “Yes, I know that.” his eyes glinting with something suspiciously close to mischief. “But you’re not busy now..”
‘Nice try’ you thought.
“Irresponsible,” you snipped at the obvious flirt. "You’ve got that interview at eight." the reminder’ a weak attempt at scolding the man, when you were really tempting him to choose wrongly. And he always did.
You saw him wince at the mention of his schedule, “Yeah..”
"Besides," you teased, letting your hands slip from his face, "you’ll be too wrecked by the morning." A smirk tugged at your lips. "And you can’t skip another one. It’s a bad habit, Mikey."
Michael caught your wrists before you could pull away, guiding them to his shoulders, only for his grip to slide right back to your hips. With a gentle tug, he settled you into his lap, his fingers digging in with just enough pressure to make you stay, “I know, I know-” his eyes swept across the floor, restless. “I just can't help it when-” he trailed off, but a kiss stole his words, smothering whatever excuse he was going to feed you.
In all honesty you understood his complaints, with all the am radio rounds and back to back interviews, you and michael barely stole five minutes alone without either of you passing out the moment you hit the bedroom. So if he was a little needy tonight? You wouldn’t blame him. Because, hell.
You were too.
Michael melted into the kiss, and you followed suit; lips parted on a breath as his warm tongue slide against yours, slow and searching. The taste of him was intoxicating, the way he always kissed like you were going to disappear the second he pulled away.
Your palm smoothed over his nightshirt to rest just above his quickening heartbeat, that throbbed in sync with his now growing print pressing against you eagerly. Michael noticed his bodys reaction and broke from the kiss, you could feel the heat of his embarrassment radiating off of him. Too shamed to open his eyes to your smug expression he knew all too well. It was almost cute how, even after all these years together, some things just never changed.
“Already, michael?” God he loved the way you’d say his name like that. so tormenting. It was cruel. You adjusted your hips discreetly angling against his hard on flush against your clit.
A breathy moan escaped Michaels lips, gripping your hips trying to ground himself. Your focus drifted to his bambi eyes, catching the glint of desire he always so desperately tried to hide. “Can i?” he asked already reaching for your cami. Pathetic.
Your hum of consent is all the permission he needs—his hands already dragging the fabric up, peeling it over your head with deliberate slowness. The air hits your skin, cool against the heat of his gaze as it drops to your tits, perky and flushed, your nipples already peaking for him.
“God, you’re gorgeous.” he whispered more so to himself, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. You cant help but enjoy the praise simpering slightly.
Michael drew near, trailing slow, feather-light kisses down the valley between your tits, his thumb reaching up to roll around your pert nipple.
This weakness made you crack, a low whine slipping past your lips as your fingers slid into his hair, guiding his mouth to your now swollen breasts and with him this close you could smell his cologne, the warm spice of his scent lingered in the air between you, and your hand instinctively curled a little tighter. youd only complimented it once, and from that day on it had become his signature.
Michaels tongue swirled around your aching peak, teasing before pulling it between his lips. The wet heat made you shudder as he released with a soft pop, leaving your peak glistening and sensitive. Not only that but you were practically dripping through your thin panties, you would only imagine the dark puddle you were leaving on his expensive, pants.
You rocked your hips along the hard ridge of his cock through his pants once more, his eyes squeezing shut again at the familiar feeling, completely and utterly weak for you just as he always was. “You’re getting my pants all wet.” he murmured, voice dripping with practiced charm—even if strained.
“‘S pretty.” Michael's large palms slid up your un seemingly trembling thighs, slow and reverent. One of his thumbs then brush against the delicate lace at the edge of your panties.
You suck in a shallow breath.
His eyes looked up to your face briefly, before his right thumb hooked under the fabric just below your core... and gently pulling it aside, the wet string between the cotton and flesh a lewd sight of just how desperate you were for him. Your eyes narrowed at his burning stare, “Pervert.”
Michael’s grin was all performance—that practiced, polite smile he wore for cameras and strangers.
“What? Never. I’m a gentleman.” the lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly as his slender fingers trailed through your slickness, warm, sticky from earlier arousal. His middle finger paused at your entrance, pressing just the lightest circle there, a teasing graze.
You bite your tongue not wanting to give him the pleasure of your reaction letting him continue his ministrations as you started to work on his waistband, because two could play that game. Your fingers grope for the zipper to his pants taking it down and pulling his boxers down with it, freeing his twitching shaft.
His leg tenses at the sudden exposure, a faint laugh escaping him as he pleads, “Baby, wait.”
“You want me to wait?” your hand was already wrapping around his manhood, giving him a stroke.
Michaels jaw clenched as he watched your thumb smear his pre, his hips jerked slightly into your palm. Pathetic. You’d only been holding his cock and he was already wrecked. A whimper escaped him, helpless against your slow paced ministrations.
“You ready, pretty?” you patronised sweetly, fully aware he was already struggling to keep it together.
“Don’t-” Michael’s protest died in his throat the second your thumb circled again, “Yes, god yes I’m ready.”
In one smooth motion you take his thick cock all the way inside your gummy walls to the hilt. Perfect. Fucking. Fit. You dont even feel like moving yet— just wanting to savour the feeling of having your cunt stuffed after weeks of nothing but constant press and overcrowded itineraries. Though after all they do say ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’.
“Feels good, angel” michael croaked revelling in the feeling of your snug walls.
You bit your lip as you began to move your hips, inch by inch, feeling him stretch you open until you could barely breathe. Your nails dug into his arms forming small crescent grooves, desperate for something to hold onto. Michael hissed at the sting, his hands gliding down to your ass, groping greedily at the fat, needing you just as much as you did him. “You like that, mikey?” you ground your hips down against his.
You can feel Michaels dick twitching inside your tight heat needy and oh so close. A thin sheen of sweat beaded along his forehead, his head lolling back now, nothing but broken little sounds and strained whines slipping past his lips.
“Just like that,doll” he managed, trying poorly to jerk his hips up in weak little thrusts to match the dangerous pace you’d set.
Your eyes dipped to the sticky mess of precum and arousal that glistened between you making wet obscene plaps as your skin connected each time. His face was so pretty like this; flushed, damp with sweat, mouth parted, all soft and spent beneath you. It pulled something greedy out of you.
You crashed your lips to his in a wet, sloppy kiss, swallowing the sweet little moan he let out for you. The sound went straight between your legs, and you clenched around him hard enough to make his whole body tremble beneath you.
Your chest pressed flush to his, your nipples dragging against the thin fabric of his night shirt every time your bodies met. The soft, damp cotton only made it worse the friction enough to make your breath hitch into his mouth as you kissed him, slow and sloppy, grinding down on him while he trembled beneath you.
“Angel, I-” Michael stuttered, voice ragged as his head tipped back again.
He wanted to cum so bad, you could feel it in the way his cock flexed inside you and how his brows stitched together tightly, but he was holding back for you. He always tried so hard not to ‘ruin it’ for you because it almost always got to his head whenever he came first makinh him feeling all guilty. It wasn’t easy, but he always tried his best to be good for his wife—even when you made it stupidly hard. Literally.
You answered with a soft hum and a roll of your hips. The beat between your legs got harder to ignore and Michael must have felt it near the base of him because one hand left the swell of your ass and slipped between you to find your needy little pearl. His thumb flicked over it fast and hard enough to make your breath catch as you started riding his cock with abandon, seeing stars you mewl, “Michael!”
your pussy spasmed around him, your stomach twisting in knots. You felt the warm liquid drooling from your insides and dripping down his base and balls making michael shiver, as you rode him with reckless abandon.
Orgasm hits as his palm slammed against your clit, the vice grip of your warm walls squeezing every last drop of hot cum out of him as he shoots deep inside your hungry cunt, his eyelashes damp with bliss. At least this time you came first right?
“Mr. Jackson?”
He blinks snapping upright, the bright studio lights rushing back into focus. “Are you okay?” the interviewer asks confusion written all over her face.
Michael clears his throat smiling sheepishly, heat blooming across his cheeks as he quickly straightened in his seat and smoothed a hand over his pants.
┊ ♡ ﹒ summary : michael wants to be mister big man for the night and thinks he can handle giving you back shots for the first time.. tell me why he can’t, girl. he has to pack it up. and swiftly.
┊ ♡ ﹒ byi : smut, mdni! michael being a fake ass dom! 😭, reader is very curvy/thick (lots of body descriptions, fattest pussy ever award winner), implied experienced reader, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, premature ejaculation, accidental creampie, playing around with power dynamics, use of the word “daddy” but in a “those you get it, get it” way. branding if you squint. girl idk!
Michael had decided the rarest thing in the world was a quiet house, but not a house where everyone was asleep or a house where everyone had gone out for an hour. A genuinely empty house where no television was running somewhere in the distance, no siblings were wandering in and out of rooms, no doors were opening and closing, and nobody was shouting for somebody else from across the property.
Just the two of you.
“I think this is the longest we’ve ever been alone in this house.” You giggled, swinging one leg idly from your spot on the kitchen counter.
Michael glanced over his shoulder from the sink with a little hum of a smile. “I wish it was like this all the time..” The admission comes easily, absentmindedly even.
He stood at the sink with his sleeves rolled up, dutifully washing dishes because you’d cooked a nice little dinner for him. The steady sound of running water and the occasional clink of dishes made you smile to yourself—he looks so cute.
You hop down from the counter and Michael barely has time to register the movement before your arms are sliding around his waist from behind.
“Hey,” He laughs softly.
You press your cheek against the back of his shoulder before rising onto your tiptoes, reaching just high enough to press a kiss against his cheek.
“Thank you for doing the dishes, angel baby.”
A shy smile tugs at his mouth as he ducks his head a little toward the sink, suddenly finding the plate in his hands very interesting.
“..Well, you cooked for me..” He says softly.
“Mhmm~ ♪ ” You nod, peeking over to smile at his profile.
“So.. I’m doing the dishes for you.” Another kiss is pressed against his cheek at his words.
“You’re sweet.” His ears are hot now, he never really got used to your affection. Every time feels like the first time. “Aren’t you? Aren’t you my sweet angel?” You tickle under his arms and the laugh that leaves him is bright and completely involuntary, shoulders jumping toward his ears as he clamps his arms tightly against his sides.
“Stop it!” The words come out between laughs, Michael twisting away just enough to escape your hands before inevitably ending up right back where he started, wrapped up in you.
You settle against his back again with a satisfied little hum, arms around his waist. After a second, you lean forward and bite his shoulder through the sweater
“Hey.” The protest is immediate, though there’s no real conviction behind it.
You smile against the fabric. “Hmm?” You tighten your arms around his waist, your cheek brushing his shoulder as he reaches for another plate.
“..Besides, I like doin’ things for my lady.”
“Oh, yeah? Your lady?” You repeat with a grin.
Michael hums and one of your hands slips beneath the hem of his sweater, acrylics finding warm skin as you scratch lightly across his stomach, feeling him suck in a small breath. Your hands were always cold when you were here.
You smile against his shoulder and a shy grin pulls at the corner of his mouth despite himself.
“Mm.. I like that, baby.” You say, hand still running along his soft skin.
“Well, you are..” He’s drying a cup with a rag
“I’m what?”
Michael shrugs one shoulder. “My lady.”
He’s halfway through drying his hands when you hook two fingers into the collar of his sweater and tug him towards you as you lean back against the kitchen island, still smiling at him.
He stumbles a half step closer, blinking down at you.
“I like when you claim me like that, daddy.” You chew on your bottom lip, running a hand down the side of his face before caressing his chin.
Michael’s entire face changes: his eyes squeeze shut and a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh escapes him.
“Don’t.. call me that dirty stuff..” The words come out awkward, almost scandalized.
“What’s the matter?” You tilt your head, running your hands down his chest. “Big man..”
Here’s the thing about Michael.
Michael.. likes taking care of you, loves it even. That itself isn’t particularly groundbreaking—anyone who spends five minutes around him could figure that out. He likes carrying things when your hands are full. He likes opening doors. He likes hearing you call for him from another room because you need help with something. He likes being useful to you in a way that feels embarrassingly earnest. Somewhere along the way, usefulness and affection became tangled together until he stopped being able to tell where one ended and the other began.
And it isn’t as though the idea appeared out of nowhere. Michael grew up around men born in a certain generation, and men always seemed to have very strong opinions about how other men were supposed to act. Most of it came from his father and brothers. The latter didn’t have malicious intent. It was just the endless background noise of older brothers who found his softness endearing, but amusing. Michael was too nice. Too polite. Too easy. Michael let girls get away with murder. Michael needed to be tougher. More assertive. Less shy. The comments were usually followed by laughter and a head lock, but that didn’t stop them from sticking somewhere in the back of his mind.
So as he got older, the idea lingered. Not as some conscious mission to reinvent himself, but as a quiet curiosity about what adulthood was supposed to look like. What being a boyfriend was supposed to look like. Sometimes he found himself reaching for a version of masculinity that seemed to come naturally to other men. More decisive, confident and more certain of itself. And lately, with you, he’d been.. experimenting with it in harmless little ways. A hand at your back guiding you through a crowd. Taking charge of small decisions. Calling you my lady when the affection got ahead of his self consciousness.
The thing was, all of that felt very manageable when it lived inside his own head. But then.. you looked up at him, smiling, and said something, something “I like when you claim me like that, daddy.” And suddenly the entire arrangement collapsed.
Because of what it meant.
Because in one sentence you’d revealed that you had noticed. You’d noticed him trying. Noticed the possessive little note hidden inside my lady. Noticed the confidence he’d been attempting to grow into. Worse, you seemed to genuinely like it.
That was the part he wasn’t prepared for.
Michael could imagine himself being more assertive. He could imagine himself being the sort of man who knew exactly what he was doing. Those fantasies were safe because they belonged entirely to him. They required nothing. Risked nothing. But now you were looking at him like you believed it a little. Like you had taken that tentative confidence at face value and decided to encourage it.
And for one dizzying second, Michael finds himself trapped between two versions of himself. The first is the man he’s been trying to become: calm, confident, capable of handling the way you’re looking at him without blinking. The second is the boy currently standing in his kitchen with burning ears and a racing heart because the second you treated him like that man, he realized he might be in over his head.
The worst part is that he likes it. He likes the approval in your voice, likes being seen as someone strong enough to take care of you..
So now he’s forced into the humiliating position of trying to act like Mister Big Shot over here while every instinct in his body is screaming. Trying to keep his shoulders squared and his expression composed while his pulse is hammering in his throat. Trying to look like he belongs in the role you’ve handed him when, in reality, he is discovering that being treated like a confident man is significantly more intimidating than pretending to be one.
Which is why he couldn’t possibly say no to you when you were whispering so sweetly in his ear that you want something he’s never done before.
Because now this was an opportunity to admit he had no idea what he was doing, and another opportunity to pretend he did.
Michael’s penis, unfortunately, found the second option extremely tempting.
So he nods a little too quickly. “..Okay.” The answer leaves his mouth before his courage has a chance to catch up with it.
You take his hand, fingers sliding into his as you look up at him with heart eyes. Your bottom lip is tucked between your pearly teeth, “C’mon..” You say softly.
“I—” He starts, then stops immediately because he doesn’t actually know what he was going to argue against.
You’re already walking and the kitchen light falls away behind you as you guide him out, past the quiet hallway.
By the time you reach the stairs, he asks a stupid question. “Where are we going?” He asks.
You look back at him over your shoulder and smile. “Upstairs, silly..”
You guide him up the stairs, each step making your thick thighs flex under those clingy little shorts. The fabric over your ass is this close to splitting—seams straining as your supple flesh jiggles with every ascent, cheeks spilling from under the bottom.
Thar soft layer of padding of your tummy peeks out where your baby doll tee rides up just an inch or two. Every curve is exaggerated now, tits heavy and full beneath the flimsy top that clings for dear life. From here he can see the little “ℳ ” you got tatted right below the dimples on your lower back.
It wasn’t planned, but seeing it right there on you.so casually displayed while you climb those stairs..? It ignites something in him and pride swells hot under his ribs. That little letter isn’t just ink, it’s ownership stamped delicately into soft skin and the best part is.. she doesn’t hide it. She’s proud of it.
His confidence flickers to life like a match struck, so sudden and bright. Maybe.. maybe he really can do this?
This is his lady.
His.
Aaand for all the confidence he had, it’s gone when he has you up in his room. The air thickens as he takes in the sight of you sprawled across the bed—bare, save for the cotton fabric clinging to your hips.
You’re propped up on your elbows, eyes locking onto his with intent—dark and fathomless, pupils blown wide enough to swallow him whole. He feels like you’re not just looking at him but you’re devouring him, leaving no space for him to doubt or retreat between where you lie and where he stands frozen at edge of mattress. Every curve is exposed now, full breasts rising slowly with your breaths, thighs pressed together but already parting slightly—an invitation without words needed.
And then he sees it.
The wedgie on full display, panties in losing the battle.
Your fat folds devour the fabric, sucking it inward like a hungry mouth. The delicate material stretches taut across your plushness, struggling to contain what’s beneath: a soft pussy spilling over and around. Heavy inner thighs press tight together without thinking, sandwiching the wet spot into an even more pronounced bulge against thin cotton as you try to silence the heartbeat of your clit.
It looks obscene—how much your body is consuming the thin garment. The crotch seam rides deep between you; not just damp but soaked through with evidence of how badly you want this moment to unfold.
The air reeks of musk now, a raw, feminine hunger so potent it makes his throat dry. Your eyes never leave him though, not even when your hips lift slightly off the bed like an offering when his slender fingers hook into the waistband and pulls them down your thighs.
“Can I—” He stops himself. “‘M gonna eat it..” His voice is barely above a whisper. You tilt your head at him and give him a knowing smile that makes his hands shake with adrenaline. For the first time ever, he’s told you what he’s going to do versus asking you.
And u don’t even need to speak, the slow roll of your hips in answer says everything. A silent hurry.
Michael is so fucking hard that he doesn’t know if stalling with hurt or help him at this point. His entire body is thrumming, cock straining painfully against his boxer briefs, the fabric digging in just enough to border on torture. He doesn’t want to cum too fast.. he’s had issues with that in the past but tonight is different.
Tonight he’s fucking you from behind and he’s so nervous.
He remembers your hands guiding his head between your thighs months ago, teaching him exactly where and how to press his tongue against your pussy before sinking his fingers into you properly. The lesson flashes behind his eyes as he licks upward in one long stripe, tasting salt sweet arousal smeared across your lips.
Michael moans against you when you part those folds just enough for him at first, warm breath ghosting over slick skin while fingertips dig into soft flesh.
Oh, fuck.. he looks up at you with those wide, Bambi eyes—long lashes fluttering every time he drags his tongue through your folds. The contrast is maddening, that sweet faced devotion on a man who’s currently feasting on you like it's his last meal.
His cheeks are flushed hot; spit and arousal smearing across his chin as he licks deeper. Every little noise he makes, whimpers or muffled groans, vibrates against your clit in the most delicious way.
You love this: how helplessly hard he is while worshipping at your altar with nothing but kittenish stares and clumsy devotion. It makes something primal curl in your stomach when those lash fringed eyes lock onto yours just to see if you’re watching him because your approval still means everything to him.
“Oh, my gosh, baby..” You whine, reaching down to cup his chin as you roll your hips onto his face. “Makin’ me feel so good..”
The sudden shift hits him suddenly because one second he’s buried between your thighs, the next you’re gently guiding him up by his chin. Your lips crash into hus, still wet and swollen from eating you—tasting of sweetness as you kiss him deep. The moment breaks when your words register:
“But I wanna cum on that cock.”
A shudder wracks through him. That cock? The one currently aching so badly it’s embarrassing? The one straining against fabric like a prisoner begging for release? Oh. That cock.
The moment fractures whatever composure he was trying to keep.
He thought that there would be time. A period of anticipation, where he could mentally prepare himself. But you move with lethal grace, flipping onto your hands and knees in one fluid motion dismissing all pretense.
Your spine curves into a perfect arc; an offering carved from flesh. The sheer weight of what you present to him is overwhelming—the swell of the hip leading to the fat of your ass. Your hand slides beneath yourself, fingers parting the swollen folds and opening a sacred text meant only for him alone.
A sharp inhale betrays him and his body reacts before reason can intervene, already leaking against fabric. Your cheek presses into the mattress—squished, almost childlike in how you’re smiling. Lips caught between your teeth, a single dimple popping on one side as you watches him over your shoulder with half lidded amusement.
Michael thinks you could be posing for some sinful Renaissance painting right now.. all plump lips bitten to hold back laughter, eyes dark with mischief while presenting yourself like an unholy altar just for him.
His fingers tremble as they hook into the waistband of his underwear, peeling them down with a shyness that’s almost endearing. He’s exposed now, dick standing up on its own as every nervous breath id visible in the way his chest rises.
Goodness, you’re just.. there’s so.. much—all warm flesh and soft curves where he can barely see past.
For a second, he just stares—overwhelmed by you, eyes drinking in the swell of your ass beneath him, those parted lips glistening, it short circuits coherent thought. He cups one cheek with his palm before lining himself up with your slit, tentative pressure as he nudges forward.
A gasp escapes you both when heat finally meets heat and suddenly there’s no turning back now.
The first inch sinks in and his entire body jerks..
His cock pulses violently inside you, twitching with every shallow breath, every micro movement of your walls clenching around him. It’s not smooth, it’s frantic like his dick has a mind of its own and is begging to thrust deeper even as the rest of him trembles from sensory overload.
A broken sound escapes his throat, somewhere between a whimper and a groan as he bottoms out slowly, each new millimeter met with another involuntary spasm from that overstimulated length.
He isn’t thinking about anything else right now, just the white hot intensity: how tight, how warm, how perfectly you take him.
This position..
Standing behind you, hands gripping your hips—he feels it, He feels power of this angle. The way his cock disappears into you with every shallow thrust, how your body yields beneath him like clay under a sculptor’s palm.
It makes him feel filthy, a man using what he wants. It coils hot in his gut—the part of him that likes knowing he could pin you down harder if either of them wanted it rougher. It’s dirty.
Every thrust punches a wet sound through the room—no hiding how deeply he bottoms out, how thoroughly he’s using you for this moment.
It makes him feel like a caveman, sweat dripping down his temple, teeth bared in focus so he doesn’t cum so soon. The slap of skin on skin drowns out rational thought; all that's left is the slick heat squeezing around him and her ass jiggling obscenely with every snap of his pelvis.
You start fucking him back, the shit leaving your mouth is lethal. The shift is instant—rolling your hips back to impale yourself deeper on him. There’s gentleness now just raw, grinding friction as you ride his cock like it’s yours. Each backward thrust drives him impossibly further into that sweet spot inside you, the one that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back. The slap of skin echoes louder this way, more obscene.
“Fuck, daddy..” You grit through your teeth.
...You know what you’re doing.
The second that word leaves your lips again, his world stops.
His eyes slam shut, body going rigid as every muscle locks: biceps trembling where they grip your hips, thighs burning with tension. The sheer power of that word unravels him in ways he’s never.. anticipated.
Because this? This isn’t some kink for him—it’s a fucking revelation. A man who’s spent his life being called weak, too soft, a boy, too nice.. but now.. now you’re branding him something else entirely with just one filthy syllable.
He can feel it: that thick cock pulsing inside you like a live wire when you ride back onto it, your pussy taking what belongs to him. His breath comes in ragged bursts; jaw clenched so tight it aches. A broken groan rips from his throat as pleasure coils violently low in his stomach, too fast to stop now.
His hands grip to your waist not guiding anymore, just clinging because he cannot physically pretend to have this under control. “Oh—don’t stop! (Name), baby.. please, don’t stop! Don’t, don’t stop!”
“Michael.. You feel ’s good stuffing me full of that fuckin’ dick..” The words slither down his spine, his gaze falls to the “ℳ ” on your lower back.
Unfortunately, that’s a trigger he didn’t know he had until now.
“Oh—no, no, no.. no, no..” His balls tighten instantly; a coil snapping without warning, just pure reflex taking over as pleasure crests violently. A choked gasp escapes him before he can stop it; hips jerking erratically as the first hot pulse surges inside you.. and then another, and another.
The realization hits him a second too late. His hips jerk backward hard as the last few hot stripes of cum paint your lower back where they drip down toward the curve of your ass.
A ragged whine tears from his throat as he watches it happen—helpless to stop himself. The sight is obscene: pearly ropes sliding between the swell of you while his own spend starts leaking out from where he was buried moments ago.
It’s mortifying and exactly what he didn’t want to happen.
You giggle, looking back at him. “What happened, my love?”
“I.. I didn’t mean to.” Oh, he’s embarrassed.
So embarrassed that he couldn’t look you in the eye until the next morning.
ೄ ◞♡ imagine pervy bsf!michael teaching you how to suck his cock , because you thought suggesting to play never have I ever would create silly memories and kill time before sleep catches the both of you. You didn’t know that it would lead to you exposing your innocence, cheeks flushing after a hard admit.
Lucky for you though, you have a best friend who’s nice enough to have you practice on him so you won’t go embarrassing yourself to a man you’ll want to impress.
His cock sits heavy on your tongue, feeling the full weight of him, silken skin over thick, aching heat. You listen to every advice he gives you: “Use your tongue.” You drag it along the vein, tasting his arousal. “Use less teeth.” You adjust instantly, eager to correct, lips softening. “Take it in deeper.” And you do, carefully breathing through your nose as you sink him further down.
You feel the stroke of his thumb against your cheek, letting out a slow exhale. “Good girl, just like that.”
The praise hits you right into your core, unraveling you from the inside out. You get eager for more of it, hollowing your cheeks as your tongue goes to flick over the head, precum slick and warm on the wet muscle.
“Are you sure you’ve never done this?” He questions, watching you push yourself past hesitation, the head of his cock nudging against the entrance of your throat dizzying him.
“Since you’re getting so brave..”
His hand finds its way to your hair, steadying you to give a first, gentle buck of his hips, testing how well you take it. A strangled, desperate sound escapes you, yet you do not pull back. Your throat tightens in preparation for more, thighs rubbing together for your own shameful pleasure.
You look a little too perfect with his cock in your mouth, a sight he doesn’t want to see only once. Maybe he’ll keep you all to himself, not wanting any other guy but him to see you down on your knees.
💕 - bsf!jermajesty who takes advantage of your vulnerability after you came crying to him about a lame who stood you up on a date that you had been looking forward to. jer let you cry into his arms until you calmed down, your shaking form now finding solace in his arms.
“you deserve better ma, you really do”, he uttered while cradling the back of your head as you laid on his chest. jermajesty had waited for a moment like this, to finally make a move on the woman he had an unspoken claim on.
he knew he was gonna cross a line he couldn’t come back from and it was a risk he was willing to take. he went with the flow of things to make sure you would be more open to his affections when the time came. from picking you up to letting you inside his place which became a second home to you, he watched you become more pliant and soft underneath his gaze.
“you know what you deserve?”
“mm what?” you looked back at him, your eyes holding a softness and underlying sadness.
“you deserve a nigga who gon treat you like every day might be the last he’ll ever see you. you deserve to know how beautiful you are, how kind you are, and how your light shines everywhere you go. you don’t see how perfect you are ma, but imma make you see tonight.”
jer’s gaze shifted into an unreadable expression, his eyes darkening into want and pure unadulterated lust as he laid you flat on the couch with his muscular arms wrapped around you.
“j-jer, what are you doing?” your eyes widened in confusion while your body started to heat up from the fact that you were literally under your best friend- the same man you had known for so long. who made you watched naruto for hours, laughed at your silly pop culture references, and had been there through thick and thin.
sure, you always thought that he was extremely handsome and charming. now you wasn’t so sure about anything when you were caged in between his thighs and he looked at you like a predator ready to sink its teeth into its prey.
“giving you what you deserve.”
and that how you ended up in this predicament. crying out your best friend’s name as you leaned into him. jer’s lips were suckling your neck while his hands were splayed over your back to ground you. you knew it was wrong to be intimate with your best friend, but it was hard to think morally the way he was setting sparks across your body.
“mm look at you already being responsive, baby. you want me, you want what i can give to you?” he pulled away to seek confirmation, a smug smirk tugging his lips as he watched you grab ahold of his black tank. your expression pretty much gave him the answer he needed, you looked at him as if he was the apple in the garden that tempted eve.
“yeah you do huh?” you nodded wordlessly, too shocked and embarrassed to say anything.
jer wanted you for so long. he hated having to share you with other friends or when you were away from him. you were his and you didn’t even know it. after tonight, he was gonna make sure you didn’t even think of wanting anyone else but him.
“m’gonna show you how a real nigga should treat you.” jer went on to ravish you, making it clear that he’s gonna be the only one you come running back to from now on.
here you have it folks, had to write about jer since he’s been clogging my mind for the last couple of days 😭 also obsessed with the concept of him being your best friend who wants to turn you every which way but lose 🤗 hope you guys enjoy!
for @multixtingzz @siiighrns @hcwait @strawberrykittymp3 @plan3tch1ld @tlcfrmmike @prettyangeliczz @cndybliss <333 and anyone else who’s down bad for jaafar’s younger brother!
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Contains: explicit content, strong language, black reader, going in raw(safe sex is great sex), squirting, choking.
Summary: Things are getting heated until you realize….theres no condom. Welp only one other option(perhaps the wrong one)
Now playing: Exchange - Bryson Tiller
The sounds of kissing filled the room, as your hands trailed all over each other's body. "C'mon we need to hurry before my brother get back." Jermajesty mumbled.
He laid you flat on the bed and began to kiss your neck. You bit your lip letting out small moans as the small wet kisses he left made you soaked.
You felt his hands reach for your waistband tugging them down, lips not stopping its frantic press against your neck. Your leggings and panties came down, landing on the carpet.
His lips met yours, moans letting out in each other's mouths, lustful desires reaching an all time high. You didn’t even notice he took his dick out from its tight confines, he stroked it a few times ready to put it in before he stopped.
Your eyes opened once he pulled away, feeling him stiffen above you. "What's wrong?" You asked, concern etched into your face. "I don't got a condom, ma." He groaned tossing his head back.
In all honesty, you weren't trying to hear all that.
Only thing on your mind was getting him inside you, any means necessary. "Just pull out." You told him and he looked at you as if you said you killed someone.
"You know you don't have birth control right?" His eyebrow raised. You rolled your eyes, "Just do it please." You wanted to give him a bit more encouragement so you spread your legs for him. You proceeded to hold them farther back giving him a clear view of your wet pussy.
He licked his lips, still feeling a bit hesitant but absolutely seduced right now. “Fine.” He sighed swallowing nervously, even when he’s used a condom it feels like heaven. He can’t even imagine how it would be raw.
As soon as his tip met your folds he wanted to moan. He leaned over and you held onto his biceps as he eased in making you gasp. “Oh my god.” He whispered, eyes closing.
The way your warm walls enclosed him could’ve made him cry in that moment. Your back arched as he stretched you out, without a condom you could feel how warm and thick he actually was.
“Fuck.” You muttered as he began to drag in and out of your pussy. The bliss you guys shared felt untouchable, feeling as if you were in your own world. “Shit ma, you feel too fuckin’ good.” He moaned.
He replaced your hands and held your legs back himself as his hips picked up speed. His hips slapped against your ass, your moans becoming high pitched.
The feeling of him going in raw made your mind fuzzy. The pressure from his dick hitting deep made your legs naturally try to close. He didn’t hesitate to tighten his grip “keep ‘em open ma, you doing good baby.”
He bent down, connecting your lips as he pumped every inch into you. The squelching noises were loud, heightening your senses. He reached between your moving bodies, his thumb finding your clit.
He rubbed tight circles against it, and he groaned feeling you clench around him. “Fuck ma, don’t do that shit, ‘bout to make me nut.” He didn’t stop his movements, on the chase to make you cum around him.
His other hand went up to grip your neck, making your eyes roll back. “I-I’m close.” You whimpered, as soon as those words dropped from your lips he pulled out.
“Maj what the f-” you were cut off by him flipping you over and picking your hips up. He swiftly entered you again, your arousal allowing no struggle.
“Oh my goddd, shit!” You cried out, hands bunching the sheets beneath you. You were absolutely on cloud 9. Jermajesty watched your ass ripple against him feeling his balls slap against your clit.
“Take that shit.” He said with a slap on your ass. His natural dirty talk only spurred you farther into an incoming orgasm. “You close ma?” He asked and you nodded, not being able to respond.
“Lemme see you cream on it baby.” He set his foot on the bed and repeatedly pulled you all the way back to the base of his dick. He felt so much more deeper causing the little bit of control you had to disperse.
You began to gush around him, body shaking as you couldnt hold your strong orgasm. Your moans increased in volume, feeling a bit light-headed. He groaned, grip tightening around your waist watching your cream spread around his dick.
“Give me one more ma.” He reached down to rub at your clit quickly sending you into another intense orgasm. Instead of creaming again, you let out a stream of squirt, wetting up his dick and abdomen.
The sight turned him on like no other, hearing your whines and seeing your legs shake from sensitivity.
“I’m bout to nut.” He warned, speeding up his thrust. Even though you just came you couldn’t help but want more. You pushed your ass back against him quickly, matching his thrusts.
“Oh shit!” He quickly pulled out stroking his length as spurts of cum landed on your ass.
“See this why I can’t fool with you. Almost made us parents.”
summary: it was supposed to be a peaceful family cookout until old insecurities resurface and jealousy finally pushes the first baby mama past her breaking point, turning a simple gathering into a bunch of baby momma drama
contains: usage of ‘y/n’, jealousy!,pettiness hella arguing, glasses will be thrown, jermajesty is just trying his best, small fight towards the end
notes: jermajesty and Alyssa’s son = josiah ( 4 ), y/n and jermajesty’s daughter = jayda ( 2 )
“awww look at the you two” latoya awed at her young neice and nephew in their matching outfits “now you know that boys moma ain’t gonna like that” she said and looked at you with her hands planted on her hips.
you rolled your eyes “so? she should’ve brought him clothes when she dropped him of five days” you replied making Latoya’s eyes nearly pop out of her head.
“five days ago?!”“Mhm.” You shrugged. “And not a single outfit either.” “go play babies, you know she coming later” janet added, The kids took off toward the backyard, giggling as they ran past.
“who..?” You slowly turned your head toward Janet, she pursued her lips together and you knew exactly what that meant “my brother invited her too”
you scoffed “you can’t be serious” latoya made a face that could only be described as yikes, she nodded “Yeah… he told me earlier. I thought you knew.”
A little while later, you were sitting beside Jermajesty, talking with his aunts and uncles, when the conversation around the table suddenly died down.
The attention of the entire backyard shifted toward the entrance.
Alyssa.
“Hey everybodyyy!” She walked in like she was making an entrance on purpose as usual, a tight bandage dress hugged every curve, wedges clicking against the pavement as she strutted across the yard. A few relatives exchanged looks while others quickly glanced away, pretending not to stare.
Alyssa stopped in front of the table and placed a hand on her chest. “Well damn. I don’t get a hello, Jermajesty? Or are you still wrapped around your little girlfriend’s finger?”
without missing a beat you held your hand in the air, showing off your 6 carat diamond engagement ring on your finger, Alyssa’s eyes immediately landed on it and you watched the realization hit. she gasped dramatically and put a hand on your shoulder “oh my mistake, fiancée”
You smiled sweetly. “That’s better.”
jermajesty sighed and took a sip of his beer “hey Alyssa” he gave her a half smile and a simple nod “Anyways…” She glanced around. “Where’s my son?”
you and jermajesty both gestured toward the swing set where Josiah and Jayda were chasing each other around., Alyssa looked at the two kids before snapping her head at the two of you and her eyes narrowed “nobody asked me before putting my son in matching clothes.”
“They’re just outfits.” you replied twisting your lips at her “So?” Alyssa turned fully toward you.
“It’s always ‘just’ something with you.” she said crossing her arms “and it’s always ‘something’ with you, you sent Josiah to our house with no clothes. Not one shirt. Not one pair of socks. Nothing.”
A few relatives suddenly became very interested in their drinks.
Alyssa crossed her arms. “He told me he already had clothes over there.” “He does.” “Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is you’re standing here complaining about an outfit when you didn’t even pack a bag.”
Alyssa took a step closer…you stood up immediately…the backyard went quiet.
“You always think you’re his mama.” Alyssa’s voice lowered. “And you act like being his mama means you don’t have to do your part.”
Alyssa scoffed. “There you go.” “There I go what?” “Trying to play house with my son.”
Your jaw tightened. “Watch yourself.” “Or what?”before either of you could say another word, Jermajesty shot up from his chair.
“Alright. Enough.” He stepped between the both of you “Not today.”
“Come on,” he said firmly. “Can we be cordial for one family cookout? Just one?”
You looked at Alyssa…Alyssa looked at you, then, slowly, you sat back down.
Alyssa did the same, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she dropped into her seat.
“Whatever.” “Yeah,” you muttered. “Whatever.”
But judging by the look she sent you from across the table, the issue was far from over.
An hour later, the backyard had settled into that familiar cookout rhythm, music playing, kids running around, family talking over one another.
You were helping set the outdoor dining table, lining up plates and silverware and unfortunately, Alyssa had decided to help too. The two of you worked side by side in complete silence.
No conversation, no eye contact.
Then a loud cry shattered the quiet.
Both of your heads snapped up Josiah came running across the yard with tears streaming down his cheeks, his little face scrunched up in pain.
“Mommy!” The nickname slipped out before he could think, and he ran straight toward you with his arms outstretched.
right past Alyssa
You immediately crouched down and opened your arms. “Come here, baby. You’re okay. Josiah crashed into your embrace, burying his face in your shoulder as his tiny body shook with sobs.
“Oh, Jojo,” you cooed softly. “Let me see.” You gently pulled him back enough to look him over, his knees were scraped up, small streaks of blood running down both legs.
“Aww, poor thing.” You brushed some curls out of his face. “What happened?”
“I-I fell,” he cried. “You fell?” he nodded.
“Well, that’s okay. We can fix that.” You wiped away a tear with your thumb. “Let’s go inside and get you cleaned up-” “I got him.”
The sharpness in Alyssa’s voice made you look up. Before Josiah could respond, she grabbed his hand.
You stood up slowly. “He came to me.” Alyssa’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. Because you always gotta play mommy.”
The comment immediately rubbed you the wrong way, you glanced down at Josiah, then back at her. “He ran right past you because you weren’t even paying attention.”
Alyssa scoffed and in one swift motion, she picked Josiah up and settled him on her hip. “Regardless, he’s my son.” The way she emphasized my son made your eye twitch.
“Whatever, Alyssa.” You folded your arms. “Do you even know where the first-aid kit is?”
For the first time since the conversation started, Alyssa actually shut the fuck up- i mean hesitated.
The silence answered the question for her, you couldn’t help the small look of disbelief that crossed your face.
Alyssa immediately looked away and without another word, she turned and headed toward the house with Josiah still crying against her shoulder.
You watched her disappear through the back door before looking over at Jermajesty.
Jermajesty sighed heavily and pushed himself out of his chair.
A few relatives nearby suddenly became very interested in their food. He walked over and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be back, baby.”
You nodded. “Mm-hm.”
Jermajesty shot one last look toward you before following after Alyssa, already knowing he was about to get stuck in the middle of another argument.
The sun had started to set, most of the food was gone, and conversations had turned lazy and comfortable as everyone settled around the tables.
Across the backyard, Josiah and Jayda darted through the grass with mason jars in hand, giggling as they chased fireflies.
“Aww,” Genevieve smiled. “Look at them.” Several people turned toward the kids.
“They look like real siblings.” Latoya added “I’m serious,” she continued. “y/n treats that baby like he’s her own. That’s rare these days.”
The table murmured in agreement, you immediately noticed Alyssa’s smile disappear.
“Oh?” The single word made everyone quiet down.
Latoya, completely oblivious, continued. “I’m just saying Josiah’s blessed. Some women would’ve treated him different.”
Alyssa laughed, not a happy laugh, yhe kind that made people start looking around awkwardly. “Right.”
Jermajesty sat up straighter. “Alyssa-” “No, let her finish.”
The backyard suddenly felt a lot smaller.
Alyssa crossed her arms. “Go ahead. Tell everybody how amazing she is and how I’m a bad mother.”
“Alyssa, nobody said that,” genevieve tried.
“But that’s what everybody keeps implying, every family function I come to, y’all act like she’s Mother Teresa.” then her eyes landed on you.
“Every single chance y’all get.” You sighed “Can we not do this right now?” “No. Let’s do it.”
“Girl, let it go.” Alyssa’s head snapped toward you.
“See? That’s your problem.” “My problem?”
“Everything’s always ‘girl let it go’ when somebody’s disrespecting me.” You laughed. “Nobody’s disrespecting you. You’re just insecure.” Alyssa sat up straighter. “Insecure about what exactly?” You looked her up and down before shrugging. “If you gotta ask, I can’t help you.”
Jermajesty whispered “Baby…” but it was too late.
Alyssa stood up. “No, say it with your chest.”
You stood too causing several relatives exchanged nervous glances.
“You wanna play mommy so fucking bad.” she said narrowing her eyes at you “And you wanna be a victim so damn bad.” you shot back
The entire table went silent.
“What’d you say?” “You heard me bitch.”
Jermajesty immediately got to his feet. “Both of y’all sit down.” Neither of you moved. Alyssa took a step forward.
“I am so sick of you.” “And I’m sick of your attitude.”
Another step.
“Everything’s a competition with you.” You laughed. “That’s funny coming from the woman who spent all day trying to compete with me.” “Ain’t nobody competing with you.” “Could’ve fooled the fuck outta me.”
The next few seconds happened fast.
Alyssa shoved your shoulder, not enough to hurt but enough to disrespect.
The entire table erupted.
“Alyssa!” “What the hell?!”
You stumbled back before immediately shoving her harder. “Oh, bitch!”
The plastic cup in your hand flew before you even thought about it, water splashed across Alyssa’s face.
For half a second everyone froze.
Then she lunged.
The two of you crashed into the grass.
her hands found there way into your hair as one of yours did the same while the other slapped her repeatedly, leaving a few marks on her face…reality tv style
Randy jr and jermajesty jumped up from their chairs as the two of you fell to the ground and started to actually fight.
“Break it up!” Jermaine shouted over the commotion
“Y’all stop!” Janet said clutching her chest in disbelief
Jermajesty got between you first, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back while Randy jr and Jaafar grabbed Alyssa.
“Alyssa!” “LET ME GO!” “You need to leave!”
“You need to tell HER to stop acting like she’s his mother!” The backyard exploded into chaos.
Jayda started crying and Josiah looked terrified.
That immediately snapped you out of your anger.
You looked toward the kids and Jermajesty followed your gaze.
His face hardened.
For the first time all day, he wasn’t trying to keep the peace. “Alyssa take a breath and go home.”
The entire backyard went quiet.
Because everyone knew he wasn’t asking and Alyssa knew it too.
She wiped blood from the corner of her mouth and laughed bitterly “Fine.” she pointed around the backyard. “All of y’all can kiss my ass. And don’t invite me to shit else.”
she stood in front of Jermajesty “i’m picking up my son on thursday” he nodded head in the air, avoiding eye contact
she stomped away leaving the backyard in silence
jermajesty looked at his father and pointed a finger at him “i don’t know why the FUCK you would invite her here in the first place, you wanted everybody to play nice and look what happened”
jaafar stepped forward. “jer-” “jaafar get the fuck out of the way” he cut him off
“you owe my fiancé and my kids a apology and i don’t mean that half ass bull shit either”
you picked up your daughter and bent down to give Josiah a kiss on the forehead “i’m sorry you had to see that my babies, it won’t happen again”
A few minutes later, you, Jermajesty, Jayda, and Josiah walked toward the car in complete silence.
The cookout was definitely over.
And somehow, everybody knew this wasn’t over either.
Synopsis: When Michael's brothers laugh at his offering to play Twister, you agree to join him, much to his delight, but things take a bit of a turn when it somehow transforms into a game of Strip Twister.
Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader
Tags: Smut, Porn Without Plot, Stripping, Loss of Virginity, Teasing, Slight Slow Burn, Sub!Michael, Dom!Reader, Begging, Kissing, Dry Humping, Handjobs, Praise Kink, Titty Sucking, Penetrative Sex, Vaginal Sex, Cowgirl Position
Word Count: 5,250
A/N: Remember when I made a post saying that I was writing a twister smut a few days after the biopic came out and I said I was gonna upload it later that night? Yeah me neither cuz that was so fucking long ago.
I honestly considered scrapping this several times because it was so incredibly difficult to write for some reason but after spending hours making the colored dot dividers myself on canva (i kept fucking up the spacing and sizing of the circles), I figured there was no way in hell I was gonna let all that work go to waste so I forced myself to finish the fic lol. I'm glad I did end up finishing it tho cuz despite how terrible I thought it was while writing it, I'm actually pretty satisfied with how it turned out. Enjoy!
AO3 Link // Masterlist
The sun was beating down on you with a vigor you hadn't seen in weeks and your left arm was increasingly getting sore with each instance of you lifting it up to glance at your watch. You could've sworn that at least 5 minutes had passed since the last time you looked at it, so why the minute hand had only moved one spot, you couldn't understand. Stifling a yawn for the umpteenth time today, you watched the brothers play basketball in the driveway through heavy eyelids.
It wasn't the standard for you to be hanging out with them. Michael was the one who had been your best friend and go-to hang out buddy since the day him and his whole family first moved into the neighborhood. But nearly a decade later, you were yearning for something more...intimate, and although you didn't have a ton of concrete evidence to back it up, you were confident that the feeling was mutual. So when you rang the doorbell at Hayvenhurst earlier today and were told by Katherine that Michael was currently at the toy store with Bill, you begrudgingly accepted the brothers' offer to watch them play solely for the purpose of killing time before Michael came home.
The sound of the gate opening and a running engine gradually approaching roused you out of whatever sleep you were just about to fall into. You hopped off the hood of the red car that you were sitting on top of, anxious to finally to be released from the shackles of watching this game. Michael stepped out of the car and greeted all of you before excitedly making his way over to the trunk. Once Bill opened the trunk, Michael yanked a familiar game out of a big blue shopping bag.
"Guys look, I got Twister! You wanna play tonight?" Michael just barely finished his sentence before all the boys started laughing at him.
"Twister? Really?"
"What are we gonna do with Twister?"
The smile that made Michael's face radiate like the sun depleted ever so slightly. "Come on, it'll be like the old days," he countered.
"We'd love to, Mike, but I gotta be at home with the family, I can't be playing games," argued Jermaine before immediately reverting his attention back to the ball.
"And the rest of us are going out tonight."
"Yeah, Marlon's got a hot date."
Michael cradled the box in the nook of his arm, a subtle look of dejection lingering in his eyes. "Marlon, what time are you gonna be home? We can play then."
Before Marlon could respond, Tito answered for him. "Marlon's gonna be playing his own game of Twister tonight."
They all went back to laughing, and in a series of rather fortunate events, you swooped in to snatch your chance of getting what you came here for: some alone time with Michael.
"I'll play with you," you said, and the light came back to his eyes as quickly as it left.
"At least there's one person around here who knows how to have fun," Michael responded, speaking indirectly to his brothers. "Come on then, the faster we get to my room, the more time we have to play."
With haste, Michael bolted to the front door of the house as you chased after him, laughter from the both of you filling the air as you ran past.
Whether 30 minutes had passed or 3 hours, it was difficult to tell. You and Michael had played an unfathomable number of rounds, and that same yawn that you stifled earlier started haunting your throat again. Michael on the other hand still had enough energy to play until the cows came home.
"Let's play one more round," Michael said, mimicking his words from the past 5 rounds while smoothing out the mat.
You weren't sure if you'd be able to handle another round of the same dreary game. It's not that you wanted to stop playing, it's just that you wanted to spice things up a bit. Twister would've been a blast to play on its own for 50+ plus rounds back when you were in grade school, but you were an adult now which meant you had a different, and slightly more raunchy idea of fun.
Just as that thought passed through your head, a light bulb went off and a devious grin crept on your face. Oh yes. Not only would the brilliant idea that just popped into your head make for a much more interesting game, but it would lead you right to where you wanted to be with Michael. Right to where you've wanted to be with him for years now.
"Michael, why don't we switch it up a bit? Play a different version of Twister than the one we've been playing this whole time?"
"A different version? Like what?"
"Strip Twister."
His head shot up. You could tell he was physically trying to restrain his eyes from popping out of his head. "Strip Twister?"
"Yeah, I learned how to play it from an old friend at summer camp several years ago. You play the game like how you normally would, but every time someone falls, that person has to remove an article of clothing and the game doesn't end until one of us is naked."
Michael chuckled uneasily. "I don't know if it's a good idea to play that version."
"Why not?" you asked in feigned oblivion.
"Because one of us is gonna end up seeing the other naked!" Michael exclaimed, though his tone of voice and body language didn't really express the same level of opposition as the words coming out of his mouth.
"Oh please, I took sex ed in school, I know what boys look like down there. Besides, we're not strangers. It's not that much different from seeing each other in our bathing suits."
Michael's face was unreadable. Worried that you had overstepped a boundary, your brain scrambled to find a way to go back in time 30 seconds and never mention the Strip Twister, but what Michael said next nearly made your own eyes pop out of your head.
"50 bucks says I'm the last one clothed by the end."
The same devious grin from earlier revisited your face, and you both shook hands to seal the deal; the last instance of purely platonic physical contact that you two would engage in for the rest of the day.
At the end of round 1, your socks were sacrificed. At the end of round 2, it was Michael's turn to sacrifice his socks. The finale of round 3 constituted the removal of Michael's plain white t-shirt, but round 4 was where you had to give up your Jordache jeans. After Michael's arms gave out on him in round 5, you teased him with a wolf-whistle as he discarded his black sweats, revealing the Mickey Mouse boxers he was wearing underneath. You nearly broke the skin on your bottom lip biting down on it to suppress your laughter. Round 6 was a close game, but your halter top was the next article of clothing that ended up on the floor at the end of that round.
Now in nothing but your second skins, the stakes were at an all time high. Michael was determined to be the last man standing (or clothed in this case) but you needed him to lose this next round to carry out your master plan as intended.
Michael was virtually heaving at this point and sounded breathless every time he spoke. You were shocked that he hadn't gotten a boner yet, especially considering the way he couldn't take his eyes off of your body. He spun the wheel right next to him. "Alright, right hand red."
Bullseye. There was no better body part/color combination that the arrow could've landed on, because with just one convenient placement of your right hand on the red dot all the way to the far edge of the mat, you were now promoted to hovering on top of Michael. The cloth prison that your breasts were still confined in left little to the imagination as your nipples prodded through the thin fabric in perfect line with Michael's gaze. His breath was hot on your cleavage and you could hear just the faintest bit of shakiness in it. And it wasn't long after you got into the new position that you felt something lightly press up against your underwear with more and more force by the second. It was as if whatever the mystery object was that was pressing up against your core was growing. The tiniest gasp escaped from Michael's mouth and he lowered his body as close to the ground as he could without actually touching it. There it was. You now wished you could go back to the crab-walk stance to see the mountain growing in his boxers in real time.
You leaned forward to be able to reach the arrow on the wheel and determine Michael's fate. He had turned his head to the side out of politeness when he saw you reach forward, but his willpower to remain gentlemanly was subpar at best because you clocked several instances of him glancing back at your breasts in the 5 seconds it took for the arrow to land on left foot red.
A Robin Hood Bullseye. Michael's left foot was all the way on the green dot farthest to the edge of the mat in line with where your right hand was. There was no way he would be able to get it all the way over to red without losing his balance and falling, especially with you on top of him limiting the amount of space he had for his leg to move.
He looked up at you with pleading eyes once he realized how rigorous this feat would be to accomplish, but he was only met with a witty smirk in return.
After a great deal of stalling, Michael revved himself up to hoist his left foot off of the green spot and plant it onto the red spot directly next to the one your right hand was on, but his strategy was foiled when his foot got stuck to the mat and caused him to collapse dramatically underneath you.
You cheered in victory, lifting yourself off of him to jump in the air and chant your triumph as he lay in the same position he fell in, his arms crossed weakly on top of his torso and his head rolled back in laughter. As much as he hated losing a game to you, he loved watching you put on a show every time you won. Once you finished rubbing your victory in his face, you plopped down right next to him and Michael briskly lifted his left knee up to hide the front of his boxers.
You rubbed his arms up and down, gently squeezing his lean biceps. "The $50 you can give me later, but Mickey Mouse is gonna have to say goodbye right now." You transitioned your hands from his biceps to the waistband of his underwear, and even through his deep brown skin, you could see the faintest hint of red looming on his cheeks before he covered his face with his hands and playfully tried to kick you away.
"No! Please!" he begged through a fit of giggles. "C'mon, let's do best out of 3."
"It doesn't work like that, applehead."
Michael carried on with his laughing fit for some time while you continued to toy with his waistband. At this point, he was fighting back less and less with each graze of your hand past his navel. In fact, he wasn't really putting much effort into hiding his erection anymore either. His legs now lay completely relaxed and flat on the floor, giving you a full view of the outline of his thick cock laying off to one side and protruding through the fabric, begging for some form of escape.
Curious as to whether he was no longer hiding his growing appendage on purpose or if he simply forgot it was there, you tugged his boxers down the slightest bit, just enough to see where the dark curls of his pubic hair began. He didn't stop you. He simply shuddered as another row of muffled giggles came out of his mouth. When he finally removed his hands from his face, he gazed up at you with a glimmer in his eyes that was anything but platonic.
"You're not stopping me," you pointed out.
Michael shook his head, looking as though he just got hit with Cupid's arrow.
You crossed your arms and sat back on your heels. "You figured out the reason why I suggested Strip Twister in the first place, didn't you?"
Michael nodded.
"So then you know where this is heading?"
He nodded once more.
"And you want me to continue?"
"Please," he squeaked, struggling to quell a smile that almost touched his eyes.
"Well," you swung a leg over to sit on top of him and bent down until his face was a blur in your eyes, "since you asked so nicely."
The gasp that emerged from Michael's mouth as you seated yourself directly on top of his aching bulge was briskly silenced by the delicate kiss you planted on his lips. You pulled back after the first initial peck to catch his reaction, and you were pleasantly surprised to see him lift his head up off the ground in a desperate attempt to meet your lips again.
Your hand found its way to the back of his head, cradling his curls, dampened by preliminary sweat, as you brought your lips to his once more. You lingered there for a little while longer this time, making sure to savor his taste. You hadn't realized just how starving you were for him until now, and neither did he. His hands maneuvered to your back to hold onto you, pulling you in until your bodies were pressing against each other. As your lips fought to consume one another, you grabbed hold of his hands and guided them to the hook of your bra. With a swift unclasp, the bra slid right off and down your arms before being thrown onto the pile with the rest of the discarded clothes.
A mini sigh of relief fell from your lips and trickled into Michael's mouth. Your breasts lay freely on his chest and your hearts synced together, thumping at a rapid pace as the dizziness in your heads made you both feel like your brains were being carried by ocean waves. Was this actually happening? Or did you fall asleep while watching the brothers play basketball and you were just dreaming right now? You would've pinched yourself to know for sure, but you much preferred the feeling of Michael's fingers desperately gripping your thighs as opposed to your own.
As much as Michael's sickly sweet lips satisfied your craving orally, your core still remained starved for the delicacy that lay between his legs. Lightly, your hips began to rock back and forth on his clothed member. Michael whimpered, his legs wriggling beneath you and his hands dancing in a mixture of balling themselves into fists and retracting.
The slickness from your cunt began to coat the entire bottom of your panties, making the part of Michael's boxers that his shaft hugged so tightly sopping wet as well. For whatever part of his boxers wasn't soaked from your juices, the precum oozing out of him finished the job.
What started as a gentle back-and-forth motion eventually turned into aggressive grinding. These damn panties and boxers were in your way, barricading you from the real thing, and no matter how hard you rubbed yourself on Michael, it wasn't enough. He must've felt the same way, because while you were both still tongue-deep in each other's mouths, you felt his fingers tuck themselves into the sides of your panties, signaling to you that he wanted you to take them off.
You lifted yourself up, met with a whiny protest from Michael, and bit your lip as you smiled pompously. "I'm sorry, was I the one that lost Twister?" you asked him.
He shook his head, his eyes stark on your tits.
"That's right. You were the one that lost, which means these have to come off first," you said, playfully tugging at his boxers.
You teased him for what was realistically about 2 minutes, but to him, it felt like hours. You snaked your hands underneath the boxers to squeeze and knead his trembling thighs before migrating them over to his cock, which was still fully clothed, giving him a lazy hand job that made him squirm and writhe defenselessly.
"Please… Just take it off… I can't… I need… Mmph."
You giggled, butterflies going haywire in the pit of your stomach. You had never seen him act like this before, so needy and entirely helpless at your disposal. You would've teased him for even longer just to see how much he could handle before he cracked, but at this point, your legs were starting to quiver as well, and you had become so wet that you could physically feel the fluid dripping out of your pussy in real time.
"As you wish," you gladly stated, and with one sturdy pull, his boxers were dragged down from his hips and off of his legs.
Michael sighed in relief as his dick sprang free, slapping his stomach and leaving a thin string of precum connecting his glistening tip to the spot that it hit before standing fully upright.
You swallowed your breath. They say that the camera adds 10 lbs. Well, it must've been the case that Mickey Mouse boxers subtract 10 lbs, because the silhouette of his dick in his underwear could not even begin to compare to how big it looked when it was wild and free.
Slightly curved towards himself with speckles of lighter skin all around and a broad vein running down the shaft, you guesstimated that his dick must've been at the very least 7 and a half inches, maybe even 8. You became a bit nervous. You weren't a virgin, unlike Michael, but none of the other guys you had been with in the past were even remotely close in size to him. Was all that going to fit inside of you? There was only one way to find out, and God, you couldn't wait to find out the answer.
In a tantalizing manner, you grabbed hold of his hands and tucked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, silently giving him permission to do what he wanted to do 3 minutes ago. With shaky hands, he carefully slid your underwear off of you, his hands gliding down your thighs before you briskly passed your feet through the holes and threw them onto the pile, topping it off like the star on a Christmas tree.
Eager for the main event with your slickness now crawling down onto your inner thighs, you pounced on top of Michael, grabbing hold of his face and planting your lips onto his once more. As your tongues danced with each other and his hands went back to caressing your body, focusing on the parts that weren't accessible to him until now, yours slithered down, gliding past his throat where you could feel his heart beating inside of it, past his chest covered in a thick sheen of perspiration, past his stomach where you traced the lines that made up his delicate abs, and past the mound of curly black pubic hair until they wrapped around his pulsating cock.
Michael expelled a drawn-out mewl as you stroked him thoroughly, starting at the very bottom of the base and pushing up until his foreskin swallowed the tip before you glided your hand back down and the glistening head bloomed once more. The squelching noises accompanied by Michael's kitten-like whimpers were music to your ears.
"Please, please," he begged as you continued to fondle him, rotating your hands as you went up and down to ensure that no part of his dick was left unstroked, "I just wanna be inside you already, please…"
You fought hard to suppress a shudder, having almost came right then and there from hearing him say that. You had spent this whole time having a ball teasing Michael to the point of madness that you hadn't realized just how close you were to your own tipping point until he said those magic words in that delectably high-pitched voice of his. It was in that moment that you released your hands from his cock and pulled him up so that he was sitting upright, leaning against the edge of his bed as opposed to laying flat on the floor like he had been this whole time. You needed to be face to face with him for this moment.
You maneuvered yourself to hover over his cock, wrapping your arms around his neck and touching your foreheads together as he gripped and kneaded your ass with desperation. It almost felt like he was trying to push your hips down. You took the hint and finally lowered yourself onto him at long last. As his lubed tip began to pierce through your hole, shockwaves of pleasure emanated through the both of you, starting at the base of your groins and dispersing all throughout your bodies until you could feel the tingles passing through each follicle of hair on your scalp. Michael's head rolled back as a moan of intense relief escaped from his throat, and your mouth hung open as you felt his member stretch your ribbed walls inch by inch.
Your thighs trembled like mad trying their absolute hardest to hold your weight as you slowly drew yourself down. 1 inch, 2 inches, 3 inches, 4 inches. It burned so good. You viciously sucked on his neck trying to distract yourself from the pain, knowing that pure bliss was coming soon, and the vibrations that his moans set off on your teeth helped open your cunt to let him in deeper. 5 inches, 6 inches, 7 inches…
Soon your pussy swallowed all 8 inches of him and your trembling thighs were finally rewarded with resting on top of his as you both let out a low-drawn groan in unison. You stayed there for a little while, wanting to relish in the feeling of his dick being hugged tightly by the slick walls of your cunt.
"God, you're so big, it's making me so full," you whispered breathlessly against the skin of his neck. "You want me to start moving up and down?"
An incomprehensible noise emitted from Michael's throat as he furiously nodded his head, a couple beads of sweat shaking off of his curls as a result.
"I need an audible answer, baby."
"Hmmph," he said, digging his fingers into your hips in an attempt to try and lift you up.
Dissatisfied with him not listening to you, you snatched his wrists and yanked them up so that his hands hung above his head. He looked at you with a feeble pout, his eyes beginning to turn glossy from the tears of desperation that were burning in the back of his skull.
"You are gonna answer me with a verbal 'yes' or 'no' like a good boy or I'm gonna put my clothes back on and walk out of here right now." You were bluffing, of course. You wouldn't dream of walking out of the room during a moment as beautiful as this, but Michael didn't need to know that. "One more time, do you want me to start moving up and down?"
"Y-yes please. Please just move, hmph, I've been waiting forever for this, just please do it already~"
"I've been waiting forever for this." There it was. The proof you needed that the feelings you had for Michael for years now were indeed mutual. And no amount of "please's" or magic words were as effective in giving Michael what he wanted as that sweet phrase that you yourself had waited forever for.
"As you wish," you repeated yourself from earlier.
Fighting through the ache in your thighs, you lifted yourself all the way up until nothing but the very top of his tip was still inside of you and slammed yourself back down, both of your thighs creating a deafening clap on impact.
A stunned wail erupted from Michael's throat at the initial drop. He clung to you as if a gust of wind was enough to drag you away from him, burying his head into the crevice of your shoulder. You could feel the warm tears leaking out of his eyes and onto your collarbone as you maintained the same pattern of stroking his cock with your pussy from tip to base.
"Ooh, ah, ah, it feels so good... You feel so good~" Michael's voice wobbled with every bounce you did. After several strokes, you had finally gotten used to his size and could pick up the pace, bouncing so fast that Michael could no longer keep his head buried in your shoulder. You lifted him up by his curls and giggled at his face. The face of a man who was in shambles at this very moment in time. The face of a man who didn't have an ounce of control over anything and liked it like that. The face of a man who would do whatever you wanted right now, so long as you kept riding him.
His tear-stained eyes couldn't pull themselves away from your breasts jiggling to the rhythm. You were just about to start getting close, you could feel it, but you needed an extra push.
"Michael, baby," you cooed, "d'you wanna be a good boy and suck on my titties for me?"
No verbal response yet again. Instead, he answered by grabbing your right breast and enveloping his lips around your areola, visibly trying to shove as much of your tit into his mouth as he could. You moaned in surprise pleasure, enraptured to see him so eager to fulfill your request without second thought.
You continued riding him at a steady pace, both of your juices blending to form an off-white elixir that presented itself as a ring around the base of Michael's cock where you landed with each recoil. Your hands gripped and kneaded his curls, forming knots in his hair that he could care less about as his tongue swirled in circles and figure eights around your erected nipples. He sucked and slurped your breasts like it was his last meal, his toes curling as you pounded down onto him repeatedly.
It was when he began to lightly tug at your nipples with his teeth that you could start to feel it. That fire kindling deep within the pit of your stomach that gave you the warning. Hastily, you shoved Michael's face deeper into your chest, not wanting him to stray even a centimeter away from where he was, and he obliged with pleasure as you thrusted yourself all the way down onto his member and started to vigorously grind your throbbing clit on top of his pubic mound.
The friction from Michael's course pubic hair against your clit sent you into a frenzy as you felt the sensation of fireworks going off inside of you. Your hips stuttered against his as your diaphragm squeezed itself against your will to fill the room with your boisterous moans. Your nails dug into his scalp and your eyes rolled back until you could see nothing but the unidentifiable color of your eyelids. As you bucked your hips, riding out the last bit of your euphoria, your thighs squelched as all of the juices that expelled from your pussy found its way past the barrier that Michael's rock hard dick planted inside of you and spilled out of you and all over him, leaving itself as a glimmering puddle on his lap.
Your grinding slowed as the aftershocks of your cunt pulsing every few seconds like a heartbeat squeezed Michael's cock, but he frantically urged you not to stop now as his high was nearing.
"No, no, no, please, I've been a good boy, please don't stop now, I feel it coming~"
Suddenly regaining all of your energy, you went back to riding him in full force, pulling him away from your breasts and into your line of view so that you could watch his climax in all its glory.
"Yes, you've been such a good boy," you assured him, knowing full well that the floodgates would burst open the more you praised him. "You'll be the best boy in the world if you cum inside of me, baby. Don't be afraid, just let it all out."
"Uuuuughhh, mmmmph~" His eyes squeezed shut in concentration and his hips started to buck against yours, causing you to fall out of rhythm for a few seconds before you both found the right beat, your thighs pounding against each other with resounding claps before Michael's breathing hitched, his back arched, and he latched onto you.
"Ohh, ahh, I'm cumming, oh my God, I'm cumming!" he cried out. Your name fell mercilessly from his lips as thick ropes of warm cum spurted out of him and splattered onto the rigid walls of your pussy. Your cunt dragged his creamy liquid up and down his shaft, coating his entire dick as you still continued to ride him while he was finishing, doing your best to milk him dry. Loud wailing moans soon turned into mewling whines as the last bit of cum weakly dribbled out of Michael's fully pumped cock and you slowed down in time to feel him pulse inside of you before shrinking back down to his flaccid size.
None of you said anything for a while as you both caught your breaths and tried to register what just happened. Michael's head rested on your shoulder and you rubbed his back while murmuring praises in his ear about what a good job he did. Although when you did so, you could've sworn you felt one last gush of cum expel out of him as he jolted ever so slightly in your arms.
"Do you feel better?" you asked him. He lifted himself off of your shoulder, nodding his head and gulping heavily as if attempting to swallow a tablespoon of peanut butter before reaching over to his wallet, which had been resting on the ottoman pressed up against the bed this whole time, and pulling out a crisp $50 bill. You chuckled, having completely forgotten about that part of the deal before snatching the bill in between your index and middle finger like it was a cigarette and grabbing your jeans from the pile to tuck it into the pocket of.
"So, uh," Michael gulped once more, "what should we do now?" He was visibly love drunk, though you weren't sure if a cold shower would be enough to sober him up.
At this moment in time, you knew that it was in your guys' best interests to clean yourselves up and get dressed before anyone came in, but just for the sake of wanting to be funny, you had to ask:
pairing: jaafar jackson x reader
summary: in which jaafar loses the bet after five days and fucks you senseless
warnings: established relationship, smut, multiple rounds, edging, handjobs + blowjobs, spanking, praise kink, loud/vocal jaafar because we love our men loud, dirty talk, creampie, overstimulation, soft aftercare. a bit of sub!jaafar and a bit of dom!jaafar (the best of both worlds).
a/n: idk, I felt like I had to write this
You and Jaafar have always been like magnets. From the moment you wake up tangled in each other’s limbs to the way his hand finds the small of your back the second you’re in the same room, physical touch isn’t just a love language, it’s your entire vocabulary. Fingers brushing, thighs pressed together on the couch, stolen kisses that turn into full makeouts in the kitchen while dinner burns…it’s constant. And the sex? Even more insatiable. You two fuck like you’re addicted, loud, messy, and often, very often. Morning, afternoon, late night, quickies in the car, slow and lazy on the couch, desperate and loud against the bathroom door, it didn’t really matter.
Touching each other was as natural as breathing.
Which is why jaafar’s little joke that afternoon was so dangerous.
So when Jaafar flops onto the bed one lazy Sunday evening, shirtless and grinning, he starts teasing you about it.
'Baby, we’re basically glued together. I touch you more than I touch my own face. Its a problem,' he laughs, poking your side.
You arch a brow, rolling over to straddle his waist just to prove a point. His hands immediately slide up your thighs. 'so wanna make a bet, then?'
His eyes light up. That competitive streak kicks in instantly. 'Bet is my second name.'
'Yeah okay, Jeremiah,' you smirk.
He groans dramatically. 'Low blow. Alright, what’s the bet?'
'Let’s see who can keep their hands off the other the longest. A full week. No touching, no kissing, no sex, no nothing. Loser has to do whatever the winner wants for a whole day.'
Jaafar’s grin is cocky as hell. 'That’s easy. Bet.'
DAY 1
The sun is bright and warm in the backyard, casting a golden glow over everything. You’re lying on the large lounge chair by the pool, stretched out on your back in nothing but Jaafar’s favorite red bikini. The one he always says makes your body look sinful, tiny triangles barely covering your breasts, strings tied at your hips that could come undone with one tug. You’d picked it on purpose.
You hear the sliding glass door open. Jaafar steps out, probably planning to join you for some lazy Sunday sun, but he stops dead the second he sees you.
'oh, come on..' he breathes.
You lift your sunglasses and tilt your head, smiling sweetly. 'Oh, hey babe’
His eyes drag slowly down your body, lingering on the swell of your breasts, the curve of your waist, the way the red bottoms sit high on your hips. He swallows hard, already looking like he’s in pain.
'You’re wearing that…on day one?' His voice is rough, lower than usual. 'That’s straight up evil.'
You stretch languidly, arching your back a little so your chest pushes out more. 'The bet was no touching. You never said anything about what I could wear.'
Jaafar lets out a low groan and runs a hand over his face. He’s shirtless in just grey sweatpants, and you can already see the effect you’re having on him.
He takes one step closer, then another, hands twitching at his sides like they have a mind of their own. You can see the battle in his eyes, that overwhelming urge to touch you that’s always been there between you two.
'Baby…come on. Just one little touch? I’ll be good after that,' he tries, flashing that charming smile that usually gets him whatever he wants.
You shake your head, biting your lip to hide your grin. 'Rules are rules. You agreed.'
He stops a few feet away, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. His gaze is glued to the little red strings at your hips. 'You’re really gonna lie here looking like that and expect me to keep my hands to myself all day?'
'Yepp.' You turn onto your stomach slowly, giving him the perfect view of your ass in the tiny bottoms. You rest your head on your arms and glance back at him over your shoulder. 'You can always tap out early if it’s too hard, you know?'
Jaafar makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. He looks like he’s physically restraining himself from pouncing. After a long moment, he forces himself to sit down in the chair across from you, legs spread, elbows on his knees as he stares.
For the next hour, the tension is delicious. Every time you shift or reach for your drink, his eyes follow. When you ask him to pass you the sunscreen, he tosses it to you instead of rubbing it on like he normally would. His jaw is tight the entire time.
Later, when you flip over again and 'accidentally' let one of the bikini strings loosen just a little, he stands up abruptly.
'I need a cold shower,' he mutters, voice strained. 'This is gonna be the longest week of my life.'
You laugh softly as he walks back inside, sweatpants doing nothing to hide how hard he still is.
Day 1 had only just begun, and Jaafar was already struggling.
DAY 2
The morning after your red bikini stunt, Jaafar decides it’s his turn to play dirty.
You wake up to the smell of coffee and something sweet. When you walk into the kitchen, still half-asleep in one of his oversized t-shirts, you nearly trip at the sight of him.
Jaafar is standing at the counter in nothing but a pair of low-slung black basketball shorts. His toned back and shoulders are on full display, muscles shifting as he flips pancakes. The shorts hang dangerously low on his hips, showing the deep V-lines that always make your mouth water. His hair is still messy from sleep.
'Morning, baby,' he says casually, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
You swallow hard and try to play it cool, sliding onto one of the barstools. 'Smells good.'
He turns around fully, giving you a front-row view of his abs and the very obvious morning bulge pressing against the thin fabric of his shorts. He doesn’t even try to hide it. Instead, he leans back against the counter, stretching his arms above his head. The motion makes his shorts dip even lower.
'Want some?' he asks, voice innocent while holding up a fork with a piece of pancake. When you lean forward to take it, he pulls it back at the last second so your fingers almost brush his.
You narrow your eyes at him. 'Tease.'
'Who, me?' He chuckles, stepping closer until he’s right in front of you, standing between your legs. He’s so close you can feel the heat coming off his bare skin, but he doesn’t touch you. Not technically. His eyes drop to where the hem of his t-shirt has ridden up your thighs, exposing the fact that you’re bare underneath.
Your heart is already racing. You press your thighs together under the counter, trying to ignore the growing ache between them.
Throughout the rest of the morning, he keeps it up. He 'works out' in the backyard right where you can see him shirtless, doing push-ups, planks, and stretches that show off every muscle. Sweat starts glistening on his skin. Every time he catches you staring, he gives you that cocky little grin.
Later in the afternoon, you’re reading on the couch when he walks in fresh from the shower, towel wrapped low around his waist, water droplets still running down his chest and abs. He stops right in front of you, pretending to look for something on the coffee table, bending over so the towel slips just a little lower.
You grip your book tighter. 'Jaafar.'
'Hmm?' He straightens up slowly, the towel barely hanging on. 'Something wrong?'
You want to reach out and yank it off so badly your fingers twitch. He notices, of course.
'Bet’s hard, huh?' he teases, voice dripping with amusement. He leans down, bracing one hand on the back of the couch beside your head, bringing his face close to yours without touching. You can smell his body wash, feel his warm breath on your lips. 'I can stop if it’s too much for you…'
You tilt your chin up defiantly, even though your whole body is screaming to pull him down. 'I’m fine.'
He chuckles darkly and pulls away, leaving you flushed and frustrated. 'Good. Wouldn’t want you tapping out on day two.'
By evening, the tension is unbearable. You’re both in the kitchen making dinner. Every time he moves behind you to grab something, he gets just close enough that you feel his body heat, but he never makes contact. His hand hovers near your waist. His chest nearly brushes your back when he reaches over you.
At one point he presses up against you for half a second, completely 'accidental', letting you feel how hard he still is before stepping back with a soft, innocent oops.
You’re soaked by the time you both sit down to eat, thighs clenched, trying not to squirm.
That night in bed, the pillow wall between you feels useless. You can hear Jaafar breathing heavily on his side, clearly just as wound up as you are. Neither of you sleeps well.
DAY 3
The double date was planned weeks ago, long before the bet. You almost cancel, but Jaafar insists you go with a mischievous glint in his eyes that tells you he’s going to make it torture for both of you.
You decide to fight fire with fire.
You slip into his favorite dress: a deep red that hugs every curve, dips low in the front to show off your cleavage, and has a high slit up one thigh. It’s the kind of dress that makes him weak, tight enough to leave nothing to the imagination. You pair it with strappy heels and leave your hair down the way he likes.
When you walk out of the bedroom, Jaafar is adjusting his shirt in the mirror. He freezes.
'Fuck…' The word slips out before he can stop it. His eyes devour you, dark, hungry, and full of frustration. 'You’re really testing me today, huh?'
You do a slow spin, letting the fabric sway around your thighs. 'Like it?'
'I love it, baby, you look amazing.' He steps closer, hands hovering inches from your waist, fingers twitching. You can see the vein in his neck pulsing. 'I want to rip it off you right now.'
'Ha, but you can’t,' you whisper, brushing past him so your body grazes his chest for the briefest second. He lets out a low, pained groan.
The entire car ride to the restaurant is charged. His hand keeps drifting toward your thigh on the gear shift, stopping at the last moment. You cross your legs, letting the slit fall open, and catch him staring multiple times.
At the restaurant, you meet your friends, another couple who have no idea about the bet. The four of you sit at a cozy booth. Jaafar slides in next to you, his thigh pressed against yours under the table from the very beginning. Not technically breaking the rules…but close.
Throughout dinner he’s relentless.
He leans in to 'whisper' something in your ear, lips brushing the shell of it. 'You look so fucking good in that dress. I keep imagining bending you over this table.'
You nearly choke on your drink.
Later, when you reach for your glass, his fingers 'accidentally' graze yours. The brief contact sends electricity shooting up your arm. He smirks when he sees you shiver. Your friends are chatting and laughing, completely oblivious, while you’re fighting the urge to climb into Jaafar’s lap right there.
By dessert, you’re both a mess. You keep catching him staring at your cleavage and the way the dress rides up your thigh. His jaw is clenched so tight it looks painful.
On the drive home, the car is silent except for the heavy breathing. When you finally get inside the house, he corners you in the hallway again, arms braced on either side of your head, chest heaving.
'That dress should be illegal,' he growls, eyes dropping to your lips. 'Four more days of this? I’m gonna lose my mind.'
You tilt your head, lips inches from his. 'Then give up, baby.'
He lets out a frustrated whine and pushes off the wall, storming toward the bedroom. You hear the shower turn on again, cold water, no doubt.
You smile to yourself as you slip out of the red dress, already planning what you’ll wear tomorrow.
DAY 4
By Day 4 the house feels like a pressure cooker. The constant denial is starting to wear on both of you, turning every little interaction into sweet torture.
Around midday, Jaafar turns the tables again.
He comes back from a quick run outside, shirtless and glistening with sweat. The shorts he’s wearing are soaked through, clinging to his strong thighs. He doesn’t head straight for the shower. Instead, he stands in the kitchen drinking water, letting it spill down his chest on purpose.
You’re sitting at the counter trying to eat lunch. He walks right up beside you, so close his sweaty arm nearly brushes yours.
'Thirsty?' he asks, holding the bottle out toward you. When you reach for it, he pulls it back and takes a slow drink, throat working, water dripping down his neck and chest.
You’re staring. You can’t help it.
He sets the bottle down and stretches his arms overhead, giving you a full view of his V-lines and the way his shorts are hanging even lower now. 'Fuck, it’s hot today,' he murmurs, voice rough.
You squeeze your thighs together under the counter. The ache between your legs has become a constant throb.
Later that afternoon you’re both on the couch watching a movie sitting on opposite ends like the rules demand. But Jaafar keeps shifting, 'accidentally' letting his foot brush against your calf. Each small touch feels electric after days of nothing.
At one point he reaches for the remote on the coffee table and leans all the way over you, his bare chest hovering inches above your lap. You can smell his skin, feel the heat rolling off him. He lingers there for a few seconds too long before sitting back with a satisfied smirk.
'You’re evil,' you whisper.
By evening the tension is almost unbearable. You’re both in the kitchen making dinner. The space feels too small. Every time you move past each other, your bodies nearly touch. His hand hovers at your waist as he reaches for a pan. Your ass brushes the front of his shorts when you bend over to grab something from the fridge.
Neither of you speaks much. The air is thick with want.
After dinner, you take a shower, leaving the door open just a crack on purpose. You hear Jaafar pacing outside the bathroom like a caged animal. When you come out in just a towel, he’s leaning against the wall across the hall, arms crossed, breathing hard.
His eyes rake over you. 'One touch. Just let me kiss you. I’m losing it, baby.'
You step closer, so close you’re almost chest to chest, then stop. 'Rules, Jaafar, rules.'
He lets out a loud, frustrated whimper, the kind that always turns you on, and drags a hand down his face. 'I hate this bet.'
You smile and walk past him to the bedroom, dropping the towel just as you cross the threshold, giving him a full view of your naked body before closing the door behind you. From the other side you hear him groan loudly.
DAY 5
Five long, torturous days of no touching, no kissing, no sex. Just stolen glances across the room, teasing texts that never crossed the line, and that stupid bet you’d both agreed to: whoever caved and touched the other first had to admit defeat.
Jaafar had been cocky as hell in the beginning, flashing that charming grin and saying he could outlast you easily. But by day four the confidence had cracked. By day five? He was a mess.
You were lounging on your shared bed in nothing but one of his oversized t-shirts and panties, pretending to scroll on your phone. Jaafar had been pacing the room for the last twenty minutes, curls messy from constantly running his hands through them, jaw clenched tight. His eyes kept drifting to your bare legs, the way the shirt rode up your thighs. You could see the bulge in his sweats. He was painfully hard and had been for days.
Finally, he stops in front of you.
'Baby.. I’m tapping out.'
His voice is low and strained. You look up slowly.
'I can’t do this anymore,' he continues, eyes dark and desperate. 'Its only been five days and I feel like I’m going crazy. I need you. I need to touch you so fucking bad.'
You set your phone down but stay seated. 'but the week isn’t over yet.'
Jaafar exhales shakily and drops to his knees right there next to the bed. He looks up at you with raw hunger, hands resting on his own thighs because he doesn’t trust them not to reach for you.
'Please,' he says quietly. 'I’m literally begging you. Call off the bet. I lose. I’ll do whatever you want. Just…let me touch you. Fuck, baby…please. I’ve been hard for days. Every time I close my eyes I think about burying my face between your legs. About how good you taste. About how tight you get when you cum around me.'
He leans forward slightly, still not touching, but close enough that you can feel his warm breath on your skin.
'I miss you,' he says, voice cracking. 'I miss kissing you. I miss your hands on me. i miss the way you moan my name when I’m deep inside you.' Another desperate whimper slips out. 'Please end it. I’m so fucking horny it hurts. I’ll get on my knees every single day if that’s what you want. Just please…let me have you.'
You reach down and slowly run your fingers through his hair. Jaafar leans into the touch like a man starved, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.
'You know? You sound sooo pretty when you beg,' you murmur.
He lets out another broken whimper. 'I’ll beg as much as you want. I’ll do anything. Just touch me. Kiss me. Ride me. Fuck me. Please, baby. I can’t take another day of this.'
You finally lean down and kiss him.
He climbed onto the bed as you pulled him into a desperate kiss, hands roaming everywhere as he whimpered against your mouth, his hands finally sliding up your thighs, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. He pours five days of frustration into the kiss, tongues sliding, teeth nipping, breathy little sounds escaping him.
But you had other plans. You loved reducing him to a moaning, twitching mess with your hands and mouth, and after five days of denial you were going to take full advantage.
You pushed him onto his back and straddled his thighs, slowly pulling his sweats down. His cock sprang free, rock hard, the tip flushed a deep angry red and already leaking steadily. It twitched visibly in the cool air, begging for attention.
'Aw, look at you, baby,' you murmured, wrapping your hand around his throbbing length. Jaafar let out a loud, shaky moan, hips bucking up instantly. 'So hard…You’ve been suffering, haven’t you?'
You started stroking him slowly, squeezing just right on the upstroke, thumb swirling over the sensitive head to spread his precum. Jaafar’s head fell back against the pillows, a deep groan tearing from his throat.
'Fuck— your hand feels so good. I missed this so much…ahh shit—'
'Mm, yeah? You like that?' you cooed, leaning down to lick the precum from his twitching tip. 'I love how red and sensitive you get when I tease you like this.'
You loved watching him like this. You leaned down and dragged your tongue slowly from base to tip, savoring the way his cock twitched hard against your tongue. Then you took him into your mouth, sucking gently on the swollen red head while your hand worked the rest of his shaft.
Jaafar was loud immediately. Whimpers, moans, broken curses, all of it spilling out as you bobbed your head. Every time you felt him start to throb and his thighs tense like he was about to cum, you pulled off completely, just stroking him slowly with a teasing grip.
'No baby please... don’t stop,' he whined, voice cracking. 'I’ve been good for five days. I need to cum so bad—'
'Not yet, besides, you sound so pretty,' you cooed, pressing a kiss to the twitching red tip. You edged him three more times like that, alternating between slow, torturous handjobs and wet, sloppy blowjobs. His cock was impossibly harder now, the head even redder and shinier, twitching violently every time you denied him.
On the last edge you sucked him deep into your throat while stroking the base. Jaafar’s back arched, a loud moan escaping as he tried to hold back. His hand flew to your hair but he didn’t push, he just held on like you were his lifeline.
When you finally pulled off, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his throbbing cock, he was a complete wreck: flushed, sweating, whimpering nonstop with tears in his eyes.
'Please— I can’t take it anymore, baby. I need to be inside you. Need to make you feel good too,' he begged.
You stripped off your panties and sank down onto him in one smooth motion. Both of you moaned loudly at the feeling. He stretched you perfectly, filling you so deep after days without him. You started riding him slowly, grinding your clit against him with every roll of your hips, chasing your own pleasure while keeping him on edge.
Jaafar’s hands gripped your waist, whimpering every time you clenched around him. 'You feel so fucking good, so wet...Baby I’m so close already—'
'God, you fill me up so perfectly,' you breathed, hands on his chest.
Jaafar whimpered beneath you. 'Ride me harder, baby— please—'
You bounced faster, moaning his name. 'Like this? Fuck, Jaafar… you feel so good inside me.'
Every time he got dangerously close you slowed down again, edging him even while he was buried inside you. The frustrated, needy sounds he made were addictive.
'mph—! No, no, no, please— I’m gonna cum— fuck—!' he moaned into your shoulder, the sounds muffled as he tried (and failed) to stay quiet.
But he’d had enough of being teased.
With a deep growl he suddenly flipped you onto your back. He grabbed your legs and hooked them over his shoulders, folding you nearly in half. The new position let him sink even deeper as he pushed back inside you in one smooth thrust.
'Oh my fucking god— Jaafar!' you cried out, eyes widening at how deep he was.
He didn’t hold back. He fucked you with hard, relentless strokes, hips slamming against you. The wet slap of skin on skin was loud and obscene, punctuated by his deep, animalistic moans.
He leaned forward, pressing your thighs closer to your chest, driving even deeper. Sweat dripped from his curls onto your skin. His moans were loud and unrestrained raw, needy sounds that made your stomach flutter.
'You’re driving me crazy,' he whimpered, the sound vibrating against your neck as he kissed and sucked marks there. 'I can feel everything…the way you’re clenching…I’m so close but I don’t want it to end.'
'Right there— don’t stop, you’re so...so deep baby,' you gasped, nails raking down his back. The overwhelming fullness and friction had you spiraling fast. 'you sound so hot when you moan like that— fuck I’m gonna cum'
Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave. Intense pleasure exploded through you, making your walls flutter and clench hard around him. You cried out his name loudly, legs shaking uncontrollably on his shoulders as wave after wave washed over you.
The feeling of you cumming pushed Jaafar over the edge. 'Baby, oh babyyy...' he moaned loudly, the sound raw and broken. His hips stuttered as he buried himself as deep as possible, thick pulses of cum filling you while his whole body trembled with the force of his release. Little whimpering sounds kept escaping him with every aftershock.
He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, both of you panting. Slowly, he lowered your legs from his shoulders, groaning softly at the shift. He collapsed on top of you, face buried in your neck, his cock twitched inside you again, already starting to harden.
'Round two already?' you teased, clenching around him playfully.
Jaafar let out a low groan. 'Can’t help it.'
He pulled out slowly, both of you hissing at the sensitivity, then flipped you onto your stomach. He gripped your hips and pulled you up onto your knees, positioning you perfectly in doggystyle. You arched your back for him, pushing your ass back against him.
'Fuck… look at you, my pretty and precious girl,' he murmured, voice thick with lust as he ran his hands over your curves. He rubbed his cock against your soaked folds before pushing back in with one deep thrust.
Both of you moaned loudly at the feeling.
'Still so wet and tight for me, huh?' he groaned, starting a slow, deep rhythm. 'My good, good girl.'
He gradually picked up speed, thrusting harder. The wet slap of his hips meeting your ass filled the room. Then, smack, his hand came down on your right cheek, firm but playful.
You clenched hard around him the second his palm made contact, a sharp moan escaping your lips.
Jaafar chuckled breathlessly, clearly noticing. 'Oh? You like that?' Another slap landed on the other cheek. Smack.
'Ngh—!' you whimpered, clenching even tighter around his cock.
He groaned loudly at the feeling. 'Mh, fuck..you squeeze me so good every time I slap this pretty ass. Such a good girl for me.'
Smack. Another firm spank.
'baby' you moaned, pushing back against him, your body betraying how much you loved it.
He leaned over you, one hand gripping your hip while the other delivered another slap. 'What a good girl I got,' he praised, voice husky right next to your ear. 'Clenching like that every single time. You love when I spank you, don’t you?'
'Y-yes, baby I do,' you admitted between moans, the mix of pleasure and the sting making your head spin.
Jaafar straightened up again and started pounding you harder, the sound of skin slapping skin growing louder and filthier. He kept alternating between thrusting deep and landing well-placed spanks on your ass, each one making you clench and whimper.
Smack.
'Mhm— fuck!' you cried out, gripping the sheets tightly.
'Listen to those pretty sounds,' he teased, voice strained with pleasure. 'Every slap and you’re squeezing me like you never want me to pull out. My perfect girl.'
He reached around to rub your clit while continuing to fuck you senseless, his hips snapping forward relentlessly. His own moans and whimpers were loud and unrestrained, deep groans mixing with breathy sounds every time you clenched around him.
'Baby, you feel so, so fucking good,' he whimpered. 'Gonna make me cum again if you keep squeezing like that'
'Harder— please, Jaafar,' you moaned, pushing back to meet his thrusts. 'I’m so close…'
He delivered a few more firm spanks in quick succession, each one drawing out a fresh moans from you. The praise kept flowing between his own desperate sounds.
'That’s it…what a good girl. Taking me so well, my baby. Clenching so nicely for me every time I spank this pretty ass.'
The combination of his deep thrusts, the stinging slaps, his fingers on your clit, and his filthy praise finally pushed you over the edge. You came hard with a loud moan, walls fluttering and clenching rhythmically around him.
'Jaafar— fuck, I’m cumming!'
The feeling of you coming undone sent him spiraling right after you. He buried himself deep and came with a loud, broken moan, filling you up again while his body shook. Little whimpering sounds kept slipping out as the aftershocks hit him.
He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, both of you panting heavily. Slowly, he pulled out with a shared hiss of oversensitivity. You collapsed flat onto the bed, and Jaafar immediately followed, covering your body with his.
He pressed soft, lazy kisses along your spine, then gently rubbed over the warm, slightly reddened skin of your ass where his handprints lingered.
'Shit…I got a little carried away with the slapping,' he murmured, voice soft and a bit shy now that the heat had passed. 'You okay, baby? Didn’t hurt too much?'
You turned your head to look at him with a satisfied smile. 'It was perfect. So hot.'
'Come here, baby,' he whispered, voice hoarse and gentle. 'Let me take care of you.'
He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a clean towel, carefully wiping between your legs with soft, loving strokes. Every touch was feather-light, mindful of how sensitive you were after two intense rounds.
He leaned down and pressed gentle kisses over the warm handprints. 'I got a little carried away… my good girl took everything so well, but I still wanna make sure you’re okay.'
You sighed happily, melting under his care.
He grinned and carefully rolled you both onto your sides so he could pull you flush against his chest. His arms wrapped around you tightly, one hand gently stroking your hair while the other rested possessively on your hip.
'What a good girl I have,' he whispered again, but this time it was sweet and full of affection. He nuzzled into the back of your neck, breathing you in.
You laughed softly and intertwined your fingers with his. 'I love you, baby.'
'I love you more,' he replied, pressing a kiss behind your ear.
He pulled the sheets over both of you, holding you close as your breathing slowly synced up. His fingers continued tracing gentle patterns on your skin, occasionally brushing over the marks he’d left. The room was quiet now except for soft sighs and the occasional contented little hum from him whenever you shifted closer.
Eventually his voice grew sleepy. 'Round three in the morning?' he mumbled, already half-asleep but still clinging to you like a lifeline.
You smiled and squeezed his hand. 'We’ll see, needy boy.'
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Jermajestyxreader request reader rides his thigh like while he's playing the game or something
contents: fluff, smut, strong language, p in v, use of the word daddy, slight usage of the n-word, unprotected sex, and m cumming in f.
summary: jermajesty had been home all day while youve been out. after a relaxing shower, you see him on the game and you missed him so you decide to bother him.
wc: 1,311
You had gotten home from a day out with your girlfriends, ready to lay down and bother Jermajesty, knowing he’d been home probably doing nothing but on the damn game. Fortunately, you got home on time before it started pouring down rain. So, you kick off your heels by the door and walk to the bathroom, stripping your clothes off and turning the shower on. As you wait for the water to heat up, you grab a towel from the closet and rest it onto the towel rack next to the shower. Finally, you step in, letting the warm water cascade down your body, steam filling up the entire bathroom.
After 16 minutes, you stepped out, applying your lotion and perfume. You grabbed your leopard print robe from the hook that was attached to the back of the bathroom door. Luckily, you didn’t need to do much to your hair besides placing it into a ponytail. Once you stepped into your bedroom, you saw Jermajesty sitting on the bottom of the bed, engaged in a game of 2K26 with his friends, talking occasionally into the mic. Seeing that, it made you sigh. You walked over to him, touching him a bit, placing silent pecks all over his face.
“Mmm, hey babe.” He muttered, not even looking away from the TV.
“Yeah, hey to you too. Are you gonna get off and give me some attention or do I have to take matters into my own hands?” You said, slowly caressing his chin, your hands running through the beard part of his goatee. That goatee made you feel so many things at once, you couldn’t even explain it. “Baby, I'm almost done with this game. After this, I got you.” He said back, you heard muffled voices and laughter from his headset, his friends probably talking shit. “Nigga, you always say shit like that and then an hour later you give me attention, I want it now, baby, please?”
That’s when you climbed onto his thigh, placing your bare and slightly wet pussy onto it, making his eyebrows furrow together and his bottom lip catching in between his teeth. You didn’t start moving yet, but you began to place wet kisses on his neck, your hands wrapped around his biceps. He moved his right arm up to mute his mic, not wanting his friends to hear that he’s practically about to get fucked by his girl.
“Ma, come on… I’m in the middle of a game.” He whined, his eyes still somehow stuck in the screen, his fingers moving across the controller. “You can play later,” You smirked against his jawline, pressing the unmute button on his headset without his knowledge.
“Just let your friends know you’re gonna play tomorrow, I’m sure they’d understand…” Your voice fills the silence in the room, letting his friends hear on their end. They were quiet, but I knew they were chuckling their asses off. He groaned as you started to grind onto his thigh, it was more of a moan than a groan, his friends that were listening in knew they weren’t gonna let him live this down.
“Fuck,” He muttered, his left hand traveling down to squeeze your ass briefly then back to the controller. “Uh, bro… can y’all hear me?” He asked into the mic, his voice was cracking.
“Yeah,” One snickered slightly, trying to keep his composure.
“I’m—I’m gonna have to play—play later, fuck…” He whimpered, also trying to keep his composure.
“Okay, see you tomorrow bro. Have fun,” Another guy spoke up, not even hiding his laughter. Jermajesty left the party and sat his PS5 controller down, both hands free now. As the rain poured heavily against the windows, his eyes fluttered shut listening to both the rain and the wet noises of your kisses against his skin. His hands roamed all over your plump ass, squeezing it as you kissed him. Then, his eyes opened, pulling back so he could kiss your soft lips. Both of your tongues danced around with each other, saliva being shared. He pulled back, pulling the belt to your robe apart, revealing your soft and naked body. Your peaks hard, your tits looking good as ever, especially to him.
“Fuck, you look so sexy baby…” He licked his lip, leaning down to place his watering mouth onto one breast, kneading the other. You moaned and quivered as his tongue licked and circled one of your nipples. After giving your breasts attention, he laid you down on the plush bed softly. Instead of that hungry look he always gave you before initiating sex, he gave you that sweet, pleading look, it made you melt.
He lifted your legs up, placing them over his shoulders and placing his hands around your thighs. He kissed alongside each thigh, leading up to your waiting core. His tongue flicked and swirled around your clit, sucking on it to give enough stimulation. Then, he began to slide his tongue up and down your slit, occasionally sticking his tongue inside of your entrance. He used your juices to slick his fingers and get them wet to go inside of your pussy, going at a slow pace, making you moan out and grip onto the sheets, your back arching off of the bed.
“You taste so good, ma… you gon’ cum for me, hm?” He asked softly as he ate you out politely, but also like a starved man. “Mmm, yes daddy…” You bit your lip, replying back in between your hitched breaths and quivering moans.
You began to get closer and closer to your release, until one thrust of his fingers made you cum. Jermajesty lapped up your juices as if you were his water fountain, his chin and goatee soaked, along with the sheets below you two.
That’s when he switched positions, he grabbed you as he started to lay on his back, placing you onto his lap and wrapping the covers around you. You two started off kissing first, his hands caressing his back. Then, you two pulled back, allowing him to place you onto his hard and waiting cock, making you two moan softly at the same time.
“S–shit…” He muttered, his hands resting at your waist, you began to ride him, sliding your hands down your body as he watched you riding him, admiring how beautiful you look. Your hands eventually rest where his hands are still at, eventually clasping them together.
“Don’t stop, ma.” He whined, fluttering his eyes shut as you sped up the pace by only a smidge. You bent down to kiss him, letting out those beautiful moans of yours out against his lips, turning him on even more. He began to pant a bit, his release quicking up.
“Ma, I’m gonna cum… do you want me to cum in you?” He asked, keeping eye contact with you.
“Please, daddy. Cum in me, please.” You two were panting as the moment was reaching the climax, he bit lip and his fingers were wrapped around your waist still, slightly digging into your skin as he began to cum.
He let out a guttural moan, calling your name out in a whisper as if it was a prayer, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, y/n, y/n… don’t move, please don’t move.” He grunted, his eyes shut once again.
You felt his hot seed spilling inside of you, the feeling felt weird yet comforting to you. As his release subsided, he untensed his body, kissing you, the sight was passionate.
“I love you so much, baby… fuck, thank you.” He breathed hard against your lips as you were taken off of his lap and laid beside him. He gave you a few pecks on your lips again, thanking you and smiling.
“I love you too, Maj.” You smiled at him, both of your eyes were heavy and tired-looking.
synopsis: after losing his virginity, michael is basically hard 24/7.
cw: smut, mentions of oral (m!receiving), mentions of virginity loss, dry humping, p in v, creampie (sorry this is like a baseline for all my fics atp), handjob, wet dreams, praise, dirty talk, whiny!michael (my fav), mutual obsession..? yo gang i stink at tagging stuff
requested !! (ty anon ily)
based off either otw/thriller!michael
michael’s face was buried so deeply in the crook of your neck that his desperate whines were muffled directly against your skin.
he was shoved deep inside you, his chest pressing into yours as he frantically thrusted, his hips jerking with a clumsy urgency that overrode his usual gentleness.
he couldn't stop the high whimpers escaping him every single time his hips slammed flush against yours, his hands clutching at the sheets on either side of your head because he was absolutely losing his mind.
should you say that you didn’t expect this?
no, you definitely did.
ever since the night of the 1980s grammys, your relationship had been rewritten into something insatiable.
you had both come home riding the high of the awards and lost your virginities to one another, and god, did that unlock a monster.
they always say that once you finally cross that line, it changes your body completely.
it was true.
giving your innocence to one another didn't satisfy the craving; it only made the hunger twice as bad.
now that your bodies knew exactly how good it felt to fuse together, the physical need for each other had become an actual addiction.
it was like a switch flipped, and suddenly neither of you could get enough of each other. you were just as obsessed with him as he was with you, but michael was so much worse at hiding it.
he would literally whine and beg to take you, his voice cracking with a needy pitch that left him embarrassed afterward – yet he just couldn't help himself.
he got hard the absolute second you crossed his mind.
sometimes that desperation got so overwhelming – so violently thick between you, that there wasn't even time to pull your clothes off. he’d get so needy that he would grab you by the waist, dragging you onto his lap to straddle him.
you’d both start humping against each other like animals in heat, grinding together with a feverish friction that left you both mewling into each other’s necks as you chased the relief.
your underwear would already be drenched, soaked through with your slick arousal. michael would lose his mind at the wetness of it, his hips jerking uncontrollably against yours, fucking into you harder and harder until he’d choke out a broken cry as you both came, soaking right through your clothes.
it was a constant, beautiful torment for him.
frequently, you’d wake up in the dead of night to the heavy press of his weight. he’d be trapped in the grip of a vivid wet dream, his long fingers subconsciously wrapped around your waist to anchor you tightly against his hips.
hearing his frantic breaths and the desperate whines vibrating against your neck, you'd reach up to gently run your fingers along the ends of his curls, softly whispering his name to pull him out of it.
he’d wake up with a shudder, his movements coming to an abrupt halt. the second he realized he’d been dry-rutting you in his sleep, he’d squeeze his eyes back shut and bury his face deep into your shoulder, his skin burning hot.
"’m sorry," he’d mumble, sounding embarrassed.
“‘s okay, baby” you’d whisper, stroking his hair to settle him as you reached back down between your bodies, your fingers slipping under his waistband.
michael would let out a gasp at the contact, his body locking up tight. he’d be too embarrassed to say anything else, just letting out a small, needy whimper as his hips instinctively jerked forward into your palm, his body quivering as he shot his cum straight into your hand.
and it didn't matter how public or innocent the setting was; his mind was entirely corrupted by you.
just a few weeks ago, during a particularly hot day by the pool, the backyard had been full of his siblings laughing and playing music. you had been sitting on the edge of a lounge chair, completely oblivious, casually eating a blue popsicle to stay cool.
across the pool, michael had been completely hypnotized.
he watched the way your lips wrapped around the popsicle, his chest tightening as his mind drifted to how good it felt when you hollowed your cheeks to suck him just like that, or how incredibly filthy it would look to see his creamy white cum dripping against the bright blue stain on your tongue.
his eyes dragged down, eyeing just how good your body looked in that swimsuit, fiending over the sight of you.
he couldn't stop staring at your soft curves, his gaze locked onto how plump your ass looked pressed against the lounge chair.
he felt so dirty – so guilty for thinking that way about his sweet, precious girlfriend, but the blood rushed straight to his dick so fast it made his head spin. he just couldn’t seem to look away.
it could be something as sweet as you gently playing with his curls, absentmindedly tracing shapes on his chest while cuddling under a blanket, or even just the mere scent of your perfume. all of it – every single little thing you did – had him losing his mind.
whenever you caught him like that – feeling the thick length of him pressing against you during a simple hug – you couldn't resist teasing him.
you’d shift just enough to grind subtly against it, whispering a soft, teasing comment about how bad he wanted you, even though the sheer sight of his needy state made your own thighs rub together, completely soaked with the knowledge that the slightest thing you did could turn him like this.
which was kinda how you ended up in this predicament tonight.
you were standing by the edge of the dining room, just listening to the loud chatter of the family gathering, when you felt the unmistakable warmth of michael hovering right behind you.
without speaking a word, he leaned over your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against your jawline before trailing a slow path down the sensitive skin of your neck.
your stomach flipped. you quickly looked around the crowded room, your heart hammering against your ribs as you tried to make sure no one was watching.
"michael..." you whispered, your voice a nervous warning as his mouth sank right into the crook of your shoulder.
he didn't care.
he didn't even look up at the crowd, engulfed by the scent of your skin. his fingers slipped down to lock tightly with yours, his palm burning hot as he gave an insistent tug and started guiding you away from the room. you obviously didn’t object. you wanted him just as bad.
so you swallowed hard, letting him lead you quickly past the noise of the hallway and straight up the steps.
the second you crossed the threshold of his bedroom, the door clicked shut, wasting no second to lock it.
michael didn't even give you a second to breathe before he was pressing you back against the wood.
he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that started out deceptively gentle. it made you melt against him, but it only lasted for a heartbeat.
you let out a soft sigh, and his tongue took advantage of that, pushing past your lips. he completely consumed your mouth, his tongue deep and demanding as it slicked over yours with an uncoordinated hunger.
you could hear the wet, sloppy friction of your lips sliding together, the heat of his saliva slicking your chin as he tilted your head back to get a deeper angle.
he swallowed your quiet gasps as his mouth tasted you, his tongue stroking yours with heat. you mewled into his mouth as your thighs shifted together, trying to relieve the ache between them.
“michael–” you tried to gasp out, your hips jerking forward to grind against his cock.
he interrupted you, muffling the sound of your voice under another kiss, his mouth sliding hungrily over yours. you managed to pull your mouth away from his, your breaths coming in ragged pants.
“michael, wait– they’re gonna notice we’re gone,” you breathed out, your head tilting back against the door to look up at him.
he didn’t care though, his eyes were glued to your mouth. instead of answering, his lips dropped to your neck. he sucked hard, bruising the sensitive skin under your jaw, leaving a mark that will definitely darken later. his tongue lapped at your skin as a moan escaped your lips, which only drove him crazier. your moans alone were pulling guttural groans from his chest.
his hands were all over you.
his long fingers dug bruisingly into your waist, anchoring you tight before his palms slid down, his large hands roughly cupping the plump flesh of your ass through your clothes and lifting you slightly to grind his rock-hard cock right into your dripping center.
a breathless whimper tore from his throat into your mouth, his grip tightening as his hands slid back up your torso, his palms slipping hungrily under your shirt to map out every inch of your bare skin.
he was squeezing your waist, his thumbs tracing the curve of your ribs, utterly fiending for the feel of you as the kiss grew messier.
“oh god, baby, please– need y’so bad,” he gasped out against your lips.
michael's hands slid down your sides to hook firmly under your thighs. he hoisted you right up off the floor, your legs locking around his waist. keeping you anchored against his chest, he stumbled away from the door, his long legs moving quickly across the room towards the bed.
he leaned forward, laying you down flat on your back as he climbed over you, his frame crowding over yours. he was breathing like he’d been running, his fingers shaking as he hooked them into the hem of your shirt.
"take it off, baby. lemme see you," he rasped.
he yanked it up and over your head in one clumsy motion, tossing it onto the floor. you didn't wait either, your hands scrambling to take his shirt off, peeling the fabric off his shoulders.
you planted your open palms firmly against his bare chest and gave him a push, catching him off guard just enough to roll him over onto his back, shifting your weight so you were the one straddling his lap.
your hands flew down to your waist, quickly peeling your bottoms and underwear off your legs and kicking them away entirely.
sitting bare on top of him, you felt his throbbing cock pressing perfectly against your soaking core through his jeans.
“need to be inside you,” he rasped.
you reached down to unbuckle his belt and pop the button of his pants, shoving the denim down his hips just enough to let his length spring free. his cock was obscene – flushed dark, with veins raised under the skin, the tip slick with precum.
you leaned your weight forward, holding yourself up with your hands as you ground yourself over him, a slow slide from the base of his cock all the way to the wet tip.
the friction was dizzying.
the contrast of his searing heat rubbing directly against your sensitive, soaking folds felt so overwhelming, sending a wave of electricity to the pit of your stomach.
michael looked like he was losing it beneath you. his head rolled back into the pillow, his jaw locked tight as his chest heaved for air. he could feel every single ridge of his cock being squeezed and slicked by your wetness.
"baby, please... you're killing me," he choked out, his voice strained with desperation.
his fingers dug bruisingly deep into the flesh of your hips, his knuckles turning white as he completely lost his grip on his self-control. "i can't... i can't take it– need to feel you..."
before you could grind against him a third time, his large hands clamped down hard on your waist, halting your movement. with an upward thrust of his hips, he guided his tip and buried himself all the way inside you in one deep push.
your head snapped back, a loud, high-pitched moan ripping from your throat that michael quickly caught by throwing his hand over your mouth, his own body trembling violently as he filled you completely. he let out a shuddering groan against your neck, his eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy.
"y'have to be quiet, sweetheart" he choked out, his hips twitching inside you as he adjusted to the heat of your core.
the sensation of being buried deep was too much to handle.
a broken whine tore from his throat as his body took over, entirely overriding his brain.
he completely lost control of his hips, his lower body jerking up against yours in frantic, uncoordinated twitches. his cock pulsed within your gummy walls before he could even find a rhythm.
"can't– baby, i can't stop," he panted, his eyes completely blown out.
michael gripped your waist and pushed you backward, forcing you flat onto your back. you let out a squeal as his large hands slid down to hook under your knees, lifting your legs high and draping them over his shoulders.
he let out a high, pathetic mewl at how incredibly tight you felt from this angle, his face flushing a deep red.
he didn't waste another second.
gripping your hips for leverage, he began fucking into you, slamming his pelvis against yours with a frantic urgency.
the bedroom filled with a symphony of filthy noises. loud schlick, schlick, schlick sounds echoed with every thrust, his cock dragging a creamy ring of mixed precum and your own arousal out before plunging right back inside.
the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin was deafening. every single time he slammed flush against you, his pelvis hit perfectly against your clit.
both of you were miserably failing to muffle your noises. the force of his desperate ruts was so intense that the headboard began slamming violently against the wall.
any thought of staying quiet was completely forgotten. despite his own warning, michael was far too gone to care anymore, letting out loud, unbridled whines with every slam of his hips.
"ah... god, you're soakin' through the sheets, baby," he rasped. "milkin' me so hard... it's so wet, makin’ such a mess."
hearing those vulgar words come out of his usually polite mouth made a hot blush rise to your cheeks. a thrill shot through you, causing your walls to instinctively squeeze around him.
"m-mike, michael," you stammered out, your voice cracking, completely breathless as your head thrashed against the pillows. you were so overwhelmed by pleasure that you could barely mutter coherent words. "you feel so fucking good–"
the words dissolved into a high whine as he gave a particularly deep thrust right into your sweet spot.
it felt so heavenly, the pleasure was so intense, that hot tears slipped from the corners of your eyes and dripped down your temples.
his pace sped up even more, his curls damp with sweat as he looked down at you like you were his entire world.
"’m so close, mikey, please," you whined, your hands tightly clawing at his bare shoulders.
michael let out a broken moan at your begging, a breathless sob tearing from his throat. he looked so overwhelmed – almost in pain from how good it felt.
"gonna give it all t'you, baby. every single drop," he choked out.
he didn't slow down for a single second. the headboard battered against the wall as he buried himself to the hilt.
michael went rigid after he gave one final thrust.
a high, broken cry tore from his throat, his head dropping onto your shoulder as his eyes squeezed shut.
the first rope of his cum shot out of him with a pulsing force, flooding your womb.
michael let out a trembling sob against your neck, his fingers digging bruisingly deep into your thighs as his cum spurt inside you in heavy ropes, painting your insides, filling every single fold and crevice until you were overflowing with his seed.
the volume of it felt endless, coating your walls and sending a wave of pleasure that triggered your own climax.
"baby, baby, baby," michael whimpered as his hips continued to twitch helplessly against yours.
he was spent, his chest heaving heavily against yours as he melted into you.
even as the spurts slowed, he didn't pull away.
he collapsed into the crook of your neck, his face buried deep as his skin burned hot. he let out small, shuddering breaths as the creamy mixture of his cum and your slick slowly began to leak out from between your thighs, cementing the mess you had made together.
michael shifted slightly, lifting himself up on his elbows just enough to look down. his gaze drifted to where you two were still joined, staring right at the thick white mixture slowly oozing out onto the sheets as he pulled out.
"you're so nasty, michael," you teased, though you couldn't take your eyes off it either.
michael huffs out a breathless laugh, biting his bottom lip as a deep blush rushes to his cheeks.
"you're lookin' too," he mumbled softly.
"but you looked first," you countered with a soft laugh, fingers gently tracing at the nape of his neck as he shook his head at you.
once the silence of the bedroom settled over you both, the house suddenly felt terrifyingly quiet.
michael shifted slightly, his cheek pressing against your shoulder. he blinked for a second, the fog in his brain clearing just enough for the stillness of the house to register.
"christ..." he breathed out. "do y'think they heard that?"
you let out a weak laugh, your hands playing with the ends of his hair. "michael, you literally slammed the bed into the wall for like fifteen minutes straight."
he raised his hands, hiding his face as his skin burned a bright red. "don't say that... oh, god, please don't say that. we're never going back downstairs."
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sorry i always get carried away w/ sub!michael
also i edited this like 8 times n i got sick of rereading so if anything sounds off PLEASE let me know n ill take a look
thanks for reading :pp
@appleheadannie
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