Minaa

Everyone knew it; they could see it in the way you two glanced at each other when you thought no one was looking, or when Michael would get protective over you because his brothers wouldn't stop messing with you, until he finally asked to be your boyfriend.

The dating phase felt like a never-ending honeymoon, yet neither of you wanted to make the first move, too scared to mess something up.

Fast forward to after Off the Wall was released. Of course, you were proud of everything he achieved with just his first solo album, and you were happy to be there by his side as he rose to fame, not only as the boy who sang "ABC" or "I Want You Back," but as Michael Jackson. But there was still something missing; maybe it was the fact that it felt like you rarely saw him anymore, yet you lived in the same house, slept in the same bed, but it was something else. It wasn't like fame changed him at all; he still littered your face with kisses before he headed off to the studio, and he most definitely was still the animal-loving boy you fell in love with.

You just felt left behind.

"Michael, we need to talk." It was a nice morning; the sun was out, the sound of the neighborhood kids already filtering out into the street, filling your ears. The light from the shut curtains shone through the gap.

"What's wrong?" The smile on his face immediately dropped, noticing how serious you looked.

You weren't sure how to break it to him, break the fact that maybe, just maybe, instead of lovers, it would be better to keep your relationship the way it was: just good friends.

"I don't think this is working," you started, your voice shaking as you watched his face go through at least ten different emotions.

"Hold on, baby, what do you mean?" His heart was racing, his hands shaking as he stood up from his chair, nearly knocking it over. His hands found their way to your own, holding them tightly against his sweaty palms.

You couldn't speak, too busy focusing on trying to formulate a sentence that could make this conversation easier on both of you.

"Talk to me, mama."

“I think we should separate.”

Five words.

Five words that completely snapped you back to reality.

No one's there to tell you what to do when you divorce your best friend, especially when you still love him. No one explains how to act when you're still close and at every barbecue interacting with his family like nothing happened, and no one had the heart to bring it up, but they could tell that there was some hidden tension, the way he touched your back when he talked, just out of pure habit, or the way you’d still stay up through the night going through the long lists of demos.

“Do you think we’d, y’know,” there was a pause before he spoke, spinning in his chair as if the thought alone was eating at him.

“Be able to try again?” He stopped spinning his chair, now facing you as he spoke.

Was that even a valid question after you spent the past few years with him like nothing happened? Lying by his bed after the Pepsi incident, refusing to leave his side even for a moment, hell, even sleeping there regardless of the nurses trying to kick you out long after visiting hours had ended.

Could he really be asking that after even his family thought it was a perfect match?

You were younger then, stupider, and unsure of how a relationship worked and how you needed to work together in order to make it work, even if you felt unseen, because when you really want something, you'll do your best to make it work no matter what.

The room was quiet; the only sounds were the light hum of the AC cooling the room down, yet it never really seemed to be completely cooled.

“Of course I do.” You looked at your hands, carefully picking out the words you wanted to use.

“I just think that back then, we were too young to understand what being in a relationship really meant.” You laughed, not a laugh as if something was funny, but as if you were laughing at the stupidity of the situation.

“And we're older now, but man, you still look just as sexy.” You giggled, watching as he put his hand over his face. Even after all these years, he was still so shy.

“C’mon, you can’t say things like that.”

“Oh? And why not? Do you not like honesty?”

“It’s just... you make me nervous, I don't know.” Your eyes searched his features, completely relaxed, like he was just hoping that you would have this reaction, like after years of not being officially together, it finally felt official.

“Still?”

“Yeah.” The room fell into another comfortable silence; it wasn't awkward, just simply enjoying each other's presence.

“Wanna get married again?”

"Only if it's forever this time"

©angelfacediary

Your whimpers flooded his ears as his length slid between your soft folds, tip catching your clit every so often. A light layer of sweat coated his back at his constant rhythmic movement.

“Baby—.” You whined looking up at him. You couldn’t help but clench at the sight, arousal pooling in your belly.

His cross necklace swung in your face almost brushing against your nose. His lips were parted as sensual sounds fell from them.

“F-feels too g-good.” He moaned, arms wobbly next to you as he held himself up. Every time you felt his tip nudge against your drooling hole, you couldn’t help but whine.

The request fell from your lips before you could think, brain already fuzzy. “Mikey, please—please—just the tip.” You whined hands gripping his biceps tightly.

His heart practically stopped, “B-baby w-we can’t. We said we’ll—agh—wait till marriage.” His breath picked up, fingers reaching to grip the white sheets you were laid on.

“I know baby but it’s barely inside—not the whole thing—promise.” You looked up at him, doe eyes meeting each other’s. He bit his lip contemplating on what to do. His eyes dropped to your pouty lips.

His brain wasn’t in a very logical state feeling your dripping cunt grind against him, causing him to lean more towards just putting it in. He watched as your eyebrows pinched together, lost in the ecstasy of your body melting into his.

“Mikey please, you feel so good—I need it.” The sultry tone in your words with the whine of his name almost made him nut right there. “J-just the tip?”

You nodded quickly, hips shifting in excitement from him falling to your pleas. He looked at where you were connected, breath catching at the wet and vulgar sight.

He grasped his hard dick, coated in your wetness, and brushed it up and down your folds. The mewl you let out was absolutely crude, making Michael’s desire for you grow.

As soon as you felt the heavy tip press against your dripping hole, you whined, heart speeding up. You couldn’t control the roll of your hips, body begging for him more than your own words.

He gently held your hip down so he can focus, not wanting to dip too far in. He ignored the small shame in the back of his mind, lust forefront and center in his brain.

He slowly pushed himself inside, gummy walls enclosing his tip. “M-Mikey—so big—oh my god.” You mewled. He whined, breath getting caught in his chest from your warmth.

“I l-love you—so good—rubbing in me so well.” You babbled mindlessly too caught up in the slight stretch. “Baby please don’t talk like that—I w-wanna be good.” The slight voice crack didn’t go unnoticed.

The rain sounds were background noise compared to the lewd noise of him slightly plunging his tip into you. “You are good—so good f’a me—so big.” You carried on.

“B-baby no—please—stop talking.” Michael whined hips not stopping his shallow thrusts. His words went into one ear and out of the other, brain only focusing on him rubbing inside of you.

“C-can’t—you feel so good—I-I’m so wet Mikey.” You pouted lost in your own world. Michael’s brain was starting to become clogged. Your words began to mesh together in his brain, your soft voice clouding around him.

“Your dick feels so good Mikey.” You wailed. Michael’s brain shut off at your explicit word usage, never hearing you mutter as much of a ‘damn’.

He couldn’t control his body as he pushed all the way in, your pussy becoming a sleeve over him. His eyes rolled back and he let out the whiniest moan you ever heard from him.

You uncontrollably clenched around his length, your eyes tightly closed as you cried out. You didn’t expect the sudden sensation, feeling the deep stretch slowly simmering into pleasure.

“Baby ‘m sorry—sorry—too good.” Michael’s words tumbled out quickly, tone filled with neediness. You couldn’t even respond, mouth dropped open in a silent gasp.

“So pretty—I don’t wanna stop—squeezin’ me so good.” His hips picked up speed, his head coming down to kiss the corner of your lip. His tongue licked the small drool that leaked from your mouth, and connected your lips together.

The lewd act made you clench around him, as you began moaning into his mouth. Your arms wrapped around his neck, feeling as if your bodies merged into one.

His hips continued to thrust into you, desperately. Michael only wanted you, his mind was muddled, focusing on the sounds of your pleasure and the feeling of your gooey pussy.

“My sweet angel—w-wanna feel you.” He said, his hands brought your legs up to his shoulders, shifting his hips to hit slightly deeper. Your back arched as your moans got louder.

Completely drowning out the noise outside, leaving you and Michael in your own loving sanctuary. He dug so deep, it felt like he was in your lungs. “I’m close.” You managed to choke out.

He leaned forward practically folding you in half as he drilled into you, becoming a whiny mess in your ear. “Please—cum on me—need it—need you.” He babbled as you cried out.

Tears rolled down the side of your face as you felt a ball of heat form in your stomach. He was constantly nudging your spot, only sending you farther into ascension. Your back arched with a cry as you soaked his length, nails marking his back.

“Thank you—thank you—cumming—I’m cumming.” “P-pull out Mikey.” You reminded him body shivering as he carried you through out your orgasm.

“C-can’t—need you—I wanna fill you up.” He continued, your eyes widened realizing he had no intentions on stopping. “M-Mikey, no condom, you’re gonna get me pregnant.” You whined, you couldn’t stop the moans as he continued to beat into your oversensitive pussy.

“You’ll become a mommy—pretty mommy—I c-can’t. Please—take it—take my cum.” His rhythm felt relentless as your hips slapped together. His moans sounded through out the room, hips stilling in you as he shot creamy ropes of his nut inside.

You whined at the warm feeling, secretly enjoying him losing control inside of you. After a few minutes of him grinding inside of you, he slowly pulled out.

He stared at your used pussy, a mix of both of your orgasms spilling out. His mind still felt cloudy but reality began to set in.

“They’re gonna kill me.”

And he was finally starting to lose his patience.

ᢉ𐭩⋆˚࿔

Gojo had you bent over his table, one hand around your throat and the other on your hips as his cock drove into you in rough fast thrusts. “You wanted this didn't you?”

"Mngh—" He pulled out, watching you clench desperately around nothing. Gojo grinned and thrust inside once more, burying himself balls deep inside you. His balls slapped against the curve of your ass, making your cheeks bounce and yout body jerk forward.

Paperwork and pens clattered to the floor as you gripped the table for stability. "All those times—those outfits..you fucking tease."

Your moans and whimpers filled the room, tears streaming from your face in pure unfiltered pleasure. "Ngh..'toru you're soo deep."

You gasped, back arching as he rocked his hips into you, pulling out and slamming my cock back into your pussy each time.

Your back arched—pushing your ass against him, allowing him to slide deeper inside you.

"Fuck—you're killing me baby."

"You wanted this didn't you?"

"Yes," You moaned, knees feeling weak.

"How much?"

"So bad, 'toru please." You cried out, orgasm fast approaching.

"Good girl." Gojo rewards you by dropping a hand to your pussy, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in fast circles.

Your pussy wetter as his thrusts got faster. He grunts, gripping your hip tighter. "Cum with me baby."

His hand squeezed your throat and that was your undoing. Your pussy clamped around his cock as you came. Eyes rolling back, hot white pleasure filling you. Gojo groans, his thrusts flattering. He thrusts into you one last time, cumming with you. You whimpered, ropes of him filling you over and over.

"Hah—look at you." Gojo pulls out, watching your joint orgasms leaking out of you, falling to the floor as you shuddered.

"Come, let's get you cleaned up."

Ryomen ✩ Sukuna – Wrath

Sukuna prided himself on one thing. He was a patient man. There's nothing in this world that made his patience slip—except for you of course.

It started with an outdoor activity—scavenger hunt. You came late, you refused to participate and even worse? You talked back to him. He thought since it's your first day there, you'd learn eventually but no—you only got worse.

He cornered you in the shed, trying to be civil with you and in return he got attitude and he had enough of you.

ᢉ𐭩⋆˚࿔

"Open your mouth. If you're going to act like a whore, then suck me like one."

"Sir—" You begin to speak, the look in his eyes made you pause. Deep down, this is all you've wanted from him. He knew that—hell botj of you did.

You barely had time to breathe before he shoved his cock past your lips, stretching your mouth wide. A groan rumbled from his chest as he hit the back of your throat with barely any resistance. A choked sound slipping from you.

"Fuck—that's it," he growled, hips snapping up roughly. His hand gripped your hair harshly. Forcing you down to take more of him. "Take every fucking inch, brat."

Sukuna was merciless with you. He fucked your mouth with barely contained anger. Each thrust was deep, his thick cock bullying its way down your throat while his grip on your hair kept you exactly where he wanted you. Saliva dripped down your chin as you gagged and sputtered around him, hands scrambling to his thighs to grip desperately.

Sukuna grins, a sadistic smile on his face as he watched tears streaming down your face. "Yeah?Not so bratty now are you?"

He hissed through gritted teeth, his eyes glowing. "All those times I wanted to punish you for misbehaving...."

He held your head down, forcing you to take him to the hilt until your nose pressed against his pelvis—refusing to let you up for air. Your thighs clenched, each thrust from Sukuna made you even wetter.

Truth to be told, you thrived from this. All those days of acting like a total bitch finally paid off with his cock in your mouth and you had never been happier.

"You're loving this aren't ya?"

He groaned, pulling you back just to give you momentarily release before slamming back in.

The wet, filthy sounds of your mouth sucking him filled the shed. The gagging, slurping, his low angry grunts mixing with your muffled moans. Sukuna's thighs tensed beneath you as he fucked your face harder, chasing his pleasure. Your hand found it's way to his balls—a surpised moan slipping from Sukuna. Motivating you even futher.

"Ah—shit..I'm gonna cum." He tells you. His pace turned sloppy, hips snapping as he chases his orgasm. "Fucking swallow it."

With a groan, Sukuna buried himself down your throat and came hard, thick ropes of hot cum filling you. He held you there, twitching and pulsing. When he finally pulled out, strings of saliva and cum connected your swollen lips to his still-hard cock.

Sukuna stared down at your messy, tear-streaked face with dark satisfaction. He smirked. "Get up and all fours. Time to really punish you brat."

Toji ✩ Fushiguro – Greed

Toji had never prided himself as being a religious man. If someone told him, 2 years after retiring he'd be desperate and become a priest and some camp? He'd laugh right in their faces.

Truly, Toji had no idea what he was doing. But it paid him good money so he did what he was instructed. Life at the camp for Toji was exhausting at times but mostly pleasant.

At least until you came there.

Your parents had sent you to this camp after you had 'flirted' with your father's boss—which to be fair, wasn't entirely true. Toji's carefully constructed routine was destroyed the second you came to his confessional—wanting to be forgiven for your sins.

Then you made your own routine, finding his confessional booth every afternoon to 'confess'. Yet you only spoke about one thing. Him. It was beyond obvious of course, the way you described the 'temptation'. You told him how much you craved him—in the nastiest details ever.

Toji finally had enough of it when you slipped up (on purpose) saying his name.

ᢉ𐭩⋆˚࿔

"Fuck..I need you. Right now." Toji sat on the narrow wooden bench and pulled you onto his lap, lining up his cock with your soaked entrance. You were beyond turned on—your nails digging into his shoulders.

He dragged you down onto him slowly, savoring every inch as your pussy stretched around his thickness.

"Mghh 'ji oh fuck.." You whimpered as you sank down on his cock. He was so huge. Toji groaned, eyes rolling back for a second.

"This is what I've been starving for...it took song long." Toji bottomed out, his hands gripped your hips with bruising greed and he started fucking up into you with deep, desperate strokes. He was pace was frantic, almosg like he couldn’t get enough of you. Ever since Toji's wife died his entire focus was on his job, not sex. Being in you felt so fucking live changing to him. "Been hard for days because of you,"

Your moans echoed in the small confession room. Your head falling against his shoulder as he claims you.

"..you've been in here whispering about wanting my cock and then leave me like nothing happened. Never again." You moaned loudly as he thrust up harder, his thick cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. The booth creaked with every greedy roll of his hips.

Toji's hands found your ass. Gripping your ass and pulling you down onto him. "Come on doll. Ride me,"

He tells you breathlessly, his voice rough with desperation. "Give me that greedy little pussy. It's mine now."

You moved your hips. Bouncing on his cock as he thrust up to meet you. The wet, filthy sound of your cunt taking every inch of him filled the small space. Toji looked completely lost in pleasure, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged. "I'm never letting you go after this."

He groaned, fucking you deeper. "Gonna fill this tight cunt every single day. Keep you dripping with my cum inside you..you want that don't you?"

His pace grew faster, more urgent and pure greed taking over as he chased his pleasure and yours. One of his hands slipped between you, rubbing your clit in messy, desperate circles. Your whined, clenching around him. "Fuck 'ji plesse..im so close"

"Yeah? Cum on my cock doll. Milk me." you clenched hard around Toji as your orgasm hit. You hit his shoulder to muffle your scream, causing Toji to freeze. He cursed loudly and buried himself as deep as possible, pumping thick, hot loads of cum into you with greedy, stuttering thrusts. He held you down on him, making sure not a single drop escaped. You both sat there, breathless and needy.

"Again." he whispered, already starting to roll his hips again.

Suguru ✩ Geto – Envy

Being the disciplinarian of Camp Biscuits meant one thing. Order.

Suguru Geto had always been one to be orderly. He ensured the rules were carried out, kept the camp in order for Nanami and made sure everyone remained on their best behaviors.

So, what the hell was it with you?

You never once showed fear the authority in his voice nor have you listened. Instead you insisted on doing the complete opposite of keeping order.

You were always late to sessions, you refused to do what he said, he'd spot you by the river at midnight, half naked after being told not to go there.

Suguru hated it. He hated how much you ticked him off, he hated the fact you were so irresistible, he hated every moment of it.

You picked up on his unexplainable desire for you of course. It was only natural since..you wanted him too. Normally, you'd make your move on him but for once, you wanted him to break first.

So, it began with your teasing glances, the new found desire to obey the rules, the inappropriate clothes..flirting around with others.

Suguru catched on easily at what you wre trying. He wasn't stupid—obviously not. But..how could he really stop himself from temptation?

ᢉ𐭩⋆˚࿔

"You just couldn't help yourself, could you?" Suguru's voice was low and dangerously smooth, but laced with pure venom. He stood behind his desk, arms crossed, dark eyes burning with envy as he stared you down.

"Flirting with Satoru right in front of me? Knowing I was watching?" He stepped closer, tall and imposing, his long hair loose over one shoulder. The envy radiating off him was palpable— hot, ugly and starving.

"See, I think you wanted this. You wanted to make me jealous," he said, voice dropping even lower. "Guess what love? It worked."

"Mister Sug—" He cuts you off with his finger. Backing you against the wall, his mouth crashing against yours in a possessive angry kiss. His hands trailed down your body. Rough and greedy, sliding under your camp shirt and squeezing your breasts harshly. He broke the kiss, breathing heavilh. "These are mine, love. Not Gojo's or anyone else. Just mine."

"Mm...Suguru wait—" He spun you around and bent you over his desk, yanking your shorts and panties down in one harsh motion. Refusing to give you any time to speak.

You heard his belt and zipper, then felt the thick, heavy heat of his cock pressing against your soaked cunt. Suguru hissed. Rubbing his mushroom tip against your slit. "Shit. Look at you, already dripping...did flirting with him get you this wet? Hm?"

"Suguru s-stop talking and fuck me already—ah!"

Suguru pushed inside you with one deep thrust, burying his cock to the hilt. A broken moan left your throat as he stretched you open.

He groans at your tightness. Giving you a moment to adjust to the feeling of him inside. After a moment he starts fucking you with hard, deep strokes that made the desk creak beneath you. "See who's fuckin' you? Not him. Me. I see the way he looks at you and I want to kill him."

"Do you want a death on my hands, love?" Every thrust was fueled by jealousy. He gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back onto his cock like he was trying to claim you completely. "S-slow down—hah no..no killing please."

"Shut up." he grits, a hand sliding up to wrap around your throat. "I'm going to make sure every time you sit down tomorrow, you're going to feel me."

He leaned over you, lips brushing your ear as he drove into you faster. "Say it love. Tell me whose cock is ruining this pretty pussy right now." "Yours, Sugu—fuck, all yours" you gasped, your hips pushing back against him, chasing your orgasm.

"Good girl."

His pace turned punishing, hips snapping against your ass. "And I'm the only one who gets to fuck you. The only one who gets to fill you up."

His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles while his cock kept pounding into you. The pleasure got too much. You clenched around him desperately, eyes rolling back as you finally came around his cock and crying out his name. Suguru followed right after with a groan. Your grip on his cock so tight—literally milking him. He buried himself as deep as possible, pumping thick ropes of cum inside you, like he was marking his territory—which he was.

He stayed inside you for a long moment, breathing heavily against your neck, still twitching. "Don't ever test me like that again," he whispered, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your shoulder.

"Maybe don't pretend you don't want me then.."

Suguru's eyes darkened at your words. "Oh yeah? Seems like I didn't discipline you enough yet."

Nanami ✩ Kento – Sloth

Nanami Kento was overworked and deprived of sex. Being the leader of Camp Biscuits came with it's pros and cons—mostly cons.

He had to work everyday regardless of the staff he had. He hated every single second of his job. Sometimes he'd wonder, was quitting easier? Or..perhaps a trip to Malaysia?

Of course none of those became reality. Nanami began slacking off as the weeks went on. Having you as a new member in his camp messed with his head more than he wanted to admit. Regardless of hating every minute of his job, he never slacked off. Never once broke his composure or his neat proper schedule.

But, you were so irresistible. A beautiful sweet lady always talking to him in the sweetest tone ever. In his mind, you were sent from the gods above to help him.

And he definitely made the most of this..blessing he'd like to say.

ᢉ𐭩⋆˚࿔

Nanami's private quarters was on the other side of the camp. Quiet and dimly lit. Nanami lounged back on the large leather couch. His shirt was unbuttoned, tie loosened and his blond hair slightly messy as he watched you with heavy-lidded eyes.

"You've been awfully restless lately, princess" he tells you. You've been teasing him for weeks after catching on his desire for you. At first, it started with innocent gestures before they got bolder. Bending over in front of him, "accidentally" brushing against his body, wearing shorter and shorter skirts whenever you saw him. Nanami pretended he hadn't notice your desperate acts. Afterall, how could he?

Instead, he waited until you needed him beyond resisting. Like tonight.

"Come here," he ordered calmly, patting his thigh. You straddled him without hesitation—too far gone before he even touched you. Nanami didn't move much. It was late at night and he was tired. To his surpise you werent wearing panties under that dress of yours. Your wetness soaking his pants.

He leaned back further, one hand resting on your waist while the other guided his thick, heavy cock out of his pants. He was already rock hard, veins pulsing and leaking pre as he rubbed the fat tip along your soaked slit. "Ride me princess."

He whispers—his eyes burning with quiet hunger. "Fuck yourself on my cock like a good girl yeah?"

"O-okay.." you mumbled, raising your hips before you sank down onto him with a shaky moan, stretching around his girth. Nanami let out a sigh of pleasure as your warm, wet cunt swallowed his every inch.

"That’s it..." he breathed, head tilting back against the couch. "Good girl."

His hand stayed steady on your hips—allowing you to choose the pace. Your moans and whining filled the room whenever you sank back down—allowing his tip to hit your cervix. His hands lazily squeezed your ass.

"Fuck princess look at you," he said quietly, voice roughening. "Such a desperate little thing aren't you?"

"Mngh—yes..please you feel so good."

You began picking up your pace, moaning as his cock dragged against every sweet spot inside you. Nanami's breathing grew heavier, every whimper you made felt like music.

"Faster princess," he commanded softly, eyes half-closed. "I want to feel you creaming all over me."

His fingers finally moved from your hips, trailing down to between you two. He lazily rubs slow circles on your clit while you bounced on his cock. The contrast between his relaxed posture and the filthy way his dick stretched you open was dizzying. "I—I can't anymore please..so tired Ken."

Your legs started shaking, orgasm approaching causing Nanami to take the lead. He thrusts up in you few from below, just enough to push you over the edge.You came hard, pussy clamping down around him as you cried out. Nanami groaned lowly, eyes fluttering shut in pure lazy bliss as he spilled deep inside you, thick ropes of cum flooding your cunt while he held you down on him.

Even after finishing, he didn't pull out yet. He wrapped one arm around you, keeping you seated on his cock as he relaxed back into the couch again, breathing steady. "Stay like this for a while princess..." he murmured, voice sleepy and satisfied.

Hiromi ✩ Higuruma – Lust

The elder's private quarters were quiet and dimly lit by candlelight. Hiromi Higuruma, one of the camp's most respected spiritual elders, had you sitting on the edge of his heavy oak desk with your legs spread obscenely wide. His dark eyes burned with pure, unfiltered lust as he stared at your glistening cunt like a starving man. "You keep coming to me night after night," he murmured, voice low and rough.

"...confessing how you touch yourself thinking about my mouth. How you soak your panties during my sermons just from watching my lips move."

He slowly sank to his knees in front of you, robe partially open, revealing his toned chest. Lust had completely consumed him. "Oh and I'm so done resisting."

Hiromi grabbed your thighs and yanked you forward roughly, burying his face between your legs. His hot tongue dragged straight up your dripping slit, licking a long, filthy stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit. The sudden pleasure causing you to jolt. A moan slipping past.

"Fuck...you taste even better than I imagined," he groaned against your cunt, the vibration making you twitch. He was shameless — loud, wet, and ravenous. He licked and sucked like a man possessed, tongue fucking deep into your hole before pulling back to swirl around your clit.

Two long fingers pushed inside you without warning, curling instantly against that spongy spot while his mouth latched onto your clit and sucked hard. You whimpered. Fingers gripping his hair as your hips bucked against his face.

Hiromi growled in approval, the sound vibrating through your core. He devoured you like a man starving. His nose bumping your clit as fingers pumping deep and fast inside fo you. Slick sounds filled the room as he ate you out like he'd been fantasizing about it for months.

"Look at this pretty cunt dripping all over my face," he groaned, pulling back just enough for you to see his chin and lips shiny with your juices. You blushed. Suddenly feeling embarrassed.

"Ugh can you..stop talking?"

"You were grinding on my face like a desperate slut and now you're embarrassed?" He smirks at your flustered face before he dives back in even more desperately, sucking your clit harder while his fingers curled and stroked that perfect spot inside you. His other hand gripped your thigh so tightly to ensure you couldn't escape.

"Hiro! W-wait fuck, I'm gonna cum—" you whimpered, legs shaking around his head. He doesn't stop. If anything, he became more aggressive. His fingers hit the sensitive part inside of you, sending you over the edge. You came hard, crying out his name as your cunt clenched around his fingers and gushed against his tongue.

Hiromi groaned. Licking and sucking up every drop like he was addicted, refusing to pull away even as you twitched and trembled from overstimulation. Your back arching as you try to escape. "T-too much I can't—"

He finally lifted his head, his eyes were glazed with lust, lips swollen and glistening. He pressed a wet kiss to your inner thigh, breathing heavily.

"Too much?" he grins, voice dark and dripping. "We're not done until I have you squirting on my tounge baby."

He leaned back in, flattening his tongue against your sensitive clit with a hungry groan. Your eyed rolling back. "Shut up and let me enjoy my meal."

Choso ✩ Kamo – Gluttony

Choso had never once encountered seduction or temptation during his years as a cleaner at Camp Biscuits. Make no mistake, he wasn't a virgin. After his first fuck, he never found anyone else interesting enough to focus on.

Until you.

Choso was inlove with you. The moment he was cleaning and some kid knocked over his supplies and you helped him? He fell inlove. Truly, you were an angel in his eyes.

And he'd do anything for you.

ᢉ𐭩⋆˚࿔

The camp's old storage cabin behind the mess hall was quiet and dimly lit. Choso had you pressed against a stack of wooden crates, his large hands gripping your thighs like he was afraid you'd disappear.

"I-I tried to stay away," he breathed, voice hoarse and shaky. "I really did...but you kept hanging out with me, smiling at me, letting me see you in those tiny shorts. I can't stop thinking about you. I'm so fucking hungry all the time. For you."

"Please let me taste you.." He whimpered dropping to his knees right there on the dusty floor. "Can I have you?"

You looked down at him, flustered and grinned. "Okay.."

That confirmation was all he needed. He yanked your shorts and panties down in one desperate tug—wasting no time to bury his face between your legs like a starving man. A deep, guttural moan ripped from his chest the second his tongue touched your pussy. His eyes rolling back at your taste.

"You taste so divine—hah..my angel." he groaned, licking long, messy stripes up your slit before sucking your clit into his mouth.

He was loud, sloppy shameless—eating you out like your cunt was the best thing he'd ever tasted in his life. Choso's hands squeezed your ass, pulling you harder against his face as he devoured you. Your hand gripped his hair, your head falling against the wall. "Yeah..mmm Cho just like that."

His tongue pushed inside you, fucking in and out while he moaned and hummed in pleasure, the vibrations shooting straight through your core.

Two thick fingers joined his tounge. Sliding deep into your soaked pussy and curling greedily. He couldn't get enough really—he kept pressing his face deeper, rubbing his nose against your clit while his tongue worked you relentlessly. Your grip on his hair tightened as your legs started shaking. Choso whimpered against your cunt when you clenched around his fingers, clearly loving every reaction you gave him.

"D-don't stop—please don't stop," you whimpered between the wet, filthy licks. Your moans served to motivate him. He sucked harder, fingers pumping faster, completely lost in pleasure.

When you finally came, crying out his name and gushing against his mouth, Choso moaned like he was the one orgasming. He licked and drank up every drop, refusing to pull away even as you twitched from sensitivity.

But he still wasn't satisfied. He stood up, breathing heavily, lips and chin shiny with your juices. Without a word he lifted you onto the crates, spread your legs wider and dropped back down to continue eating you out. "One more," he rasped, eyes glassy with hunger.

"Just one more please my angel." he whimpers, his tongue flattening against your sensitive clit again as he groaned in pure bliss.

"Ah—Cho!"

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You sat on the bed with your hands in your lap, messing with the edge of the glove you wore. A new outfit Michael had bought for you and insisted that you wore.

He was leaving in two days and would be gone for a while, not to mention you were about to go on a press tour for your new movie, and he had been slowly working up your confidence to get you to say yes to making a tape.

A sex tape.

The thought made you blush as you watched him set up the camera, the lens positioned directly at the bed. Your eyes then cautiously trailing to the door— because of course he chose to do this when your family was visiting. Not only that, you two were supposed to go to dinner with them in an hour.

You already felt light headed. Even though it was just you and Michael, you still felt watched. One half of you found it terrifying, the other a little thrilled.

You loved trying new things, especially if he was excited about something.

Thus your current get up of black latex.

Your eyes then flicked down- it was crotchless.

And there you go feeling lightheaded again.

"Okay," Michael muttered, mostly to himself. "I think that's good." He then stepped behind it, checking to see the angle and the grin that stretched his face as he saw you through the monitor was down right fiendish.

“You look beautiful, baby.” He said softly, “I’m gonna start recording now, okay?”

You bit your lip, eyes glancing at the door one last time before you nodded. “Ready.”

That flashing red light started a moment later and you watched in bated breath as Michael lowered his boxers, his lips tilting in amusement at the immediate starstruck look to your gaze.

You barely had time to appreciate the size of his cock when his mouth pressed to yours in a heated kiss, his hands raking along your bare back and you melted against him. His teeth grazed along your bottom lip and opened for him, his wet tongue sliding into your mouth and tracing every inch.

The feel of your breasts pressed against him sent blood all the way down to his already painfully hard cock and he had to hold himself back from grinding into you. Instead he pushed forward, pressing your back down into the sheets. His lips trailed down to your jaw, a hand winding in your hair and he yanked your head to the side to expose your neck, earning a lovely sound from the back of your throat.

Open mouthed, he latched onto your soft skin, sucking and biting lightly, careful not to leave a mark even though he desperately wanted to. That was fine though, he’d mark you a different way.

“We… we need to be quick.” You managed, your fingers burying themselves in his hair.

“Not too quick, I plan to wreck you baby,” he muttered into your skin as his mouth drifted to your collar bones, his free hand coming up to caress and tease your nipples and that made you groan and buck against him, your bare pussy peeking out from the slit in the crotch and sliding against him.

Michael shivered, reeling in his self restraint. “None of that. Keep still.”

Nonetheless, he pushed against you harder and your hips rolled again, causing him to pull on your hair harder and you whimpered, but it only made you more wet. “You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“All for you, honey.”

He hummed and you yelped as he suddenly hooked a hand under each of your knees and pushed your legs up and out.

You could hear the voices of people passing by down the hall, but you didn’t have time to dwell as Michael lowered his hips and you ground against his length, an electric sort of friction against your clit and you moaned and a groan tore its way up his throat.

His hands dug into your sides and his mouth latched onto your right breast, causing you to arch into him. Your hands came up to hold his head to you, but before you could manage, your wrists were then pinned above you, Michael holding you against the mattress with his hips to yours and he ground into you again. “Don’t try to take control, baby. You don’t want to embarrass yourself.”

“Usually the man finds it hot when the woman takes control.”

“It’s an entertaining thought but I rather like the sight of you writhing beneath me, and I bet you just love it when I do this…” Michael slowly snaked a hand up your throat, his fingers dancing along the soft and vulnerable skin of your throat before his grip slowly tightened.

You could still breathe, but you could feel your pulse thudding violently and you shuddered as he pressed against you again.

“Keep your hands above your head, don’t move them.” He ordered, his voice a caress on your skin and you nodded, eyes heavy as he started to move down your body.

Then his fingers were pulling the latex out of the way, a blissful sigh leaving him as his breath hit your exposed pussy, making you shiver. “God, look at you… your fucking dripping, baby.”

And then his mouth was on you, tongue flattening from the bottom of your opened and dragging up to your clit before he wrapped his lips around it, rolling his tongue in a point and your back arched off the bed. You bit down harshly on your bottom lip, trying to keep your moaning at a minimum and your fingers grasped at the sheets, desperate to reach down into his hair but wanting to do as told.

You felt like your soul was leaving your body as his mouth dragged down, tongue fucking you as his ofher hand came up to play with your clit.

“Michael, please.” Your tone was torn between a moan and a whimper.

“Use your words.”

“I need your fingers—“

He abided immediately, lips dragging back up to your clit while two of his long fingers sunk into you. Dragging and curling up, his pace quick and deep and you threw your head back, feeling euphoric.

You came embarrassingly quickly, the sensation taking you by surprise but then he kept going— his other hand pressing low on your abdomen while he fucking you with his fingers and his tongue flattened on your clit.

“Michael, I feel… what—“

“Come for me, babygirl. I know you can do it again.”

He pressed down on your pelvis just a bit more and you came again, liquid squirting out of you and all over his face and fuck… he looked so pleased.

“Such a good girl for me,” he praised, bringing up his hand to suck his fingers clean as he then settled his hips against yours.

You bit your lip, your gaze becoming even more hungry as you took him in. Like everything else about him, his cock was an impressive length, thick, and the tip flushed as pre-come leaked out.

Brushing his hips forward, the head of his cock slid through your folds and rubbed against your clit, causing a buzzing moan to leave your lips and you rolled her hips forward, desperate for more but his hand danced back up to your throat and tightened. “None of that,” he warned, his dark eyes nearly looked feral as he glanced down at your dripping and awaiting cunt.

Slowly, he began to enter you, not taking his eyes off the way you stretched around him as he sank in.

“Fuck ,” you hissed, throwing your head back against the bed and you felt dizzy with your lower lack of air supply, his hand warm and firm around your neck.

A groan rumbled in the back of his throat, you were so tight but he didn’t stop pushing in until he was at the hilt. Then slowly pulling out, you clenched around him and he bit into your shoulder to bite back his own moan.

Michael’s thrusts were slow and steady, in no hurry and every few seconds his grip on your throat would loosen before tightening again. He rolled his hips forward, stretching you out and his pelvis created friction against your clit and you moaned loudly, momentarily not caring who heard you but his mouth swallowed the sound as he kissed you, wet and opened mouth.

Picking up his pace, his thrusts rammed into you, rocking the bed frame into the wall and the wood groaned in protest.

You continued to moan and whimper into his mouth, your arms tingling and begging to hold onto him. Michael must’ve read your body language and he pulled back, “rest them on my shoulders.”

They fell immediately, your nails digging into his shoulders and your eyes watered as you were temporarily deprived of air.

“You feel so good, baby.”

He shifted the angle of his hips, dragging himself in deep to the point where he hit your cervix. It was painful and wonderful and maddeningly delicious all at once.

Michael tilted his hips forwards and ground into you, his pelvis creating a slippery friction against your clit, then as he pulled out the the head of his cock dragged against that sweet spot and for fuck’s sake you practically screamed.

“Fuck! Do that again, please, oh my-”

Michael clamped a hand over your mouth, not being able to help it as he laughed and he didn’t stop his rough thrusts—

There was suddenly a knock on the door.

“Sweetheart, we’re gonna leave for dinner in about half an hour.” Your dad called through the door. “You okay? Or still getting ready?”

Michael’s cock continued to drag against your inner walls, slamming into you, his grip on your throat tight and tears slipped down your cheeks. He looked at you pointedly before removing his hand from your mouth, instead burying it in your hair as his mouth latched onto your neck.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m okay. I’m still getting ready… fuck-” Michael bit into your neck. “My hair won’t cooperate.” You bit down on your lip so hard to stop yourself from screaming again as his hand left your hair and dragged down to rub tight circles into your clit.

“Do you want your mom to come help?”

“Fuck no,” your voice was breathless and you cleared your throat the best you could, “I’m sorry, I think she’ll stress me out more. I’m okay… God, I’ll be down soon.”

“Okay, sweetheart.” Your dad walked away and Michael nearly laughed but it turned into a moan of his own as you clenched painfully hard around him. You were close.

“Did that excite you, baby? Nearly getting caught while I fuck you?”

You whimpered, your nails biting into his shoulders painfully and he took in the tears that were streaming down your cheeks, how your chest was heaving, how he stretched you out and how your clit was swollen.

“Come for me, come all over my cock, baby. I want the whole fucking house to hear you.”

The head of his cock rammed into that spot again and he rubbed another circle into your clit and you came with a hard cry, the sensation felt like you just shattered from being struck by lightning.

Michael didn’t stop, but he shuddered violently as you clamped around him.

His rough pace slipped into something erratic, fucking you harshly and the bed slammed hard into the wall, rocking violently on its legs and your heels dug into his lower back, pushing him in deeper.

“Fuck,” he panted, you were trembling and your skin was flushed, his pelvis grinding into your oversensitive clit and you clenched again.

“Just like that baby,” his grip on your throat tightened to the point where it hurt and you genuinely couldn’t breathe.

“Michael!” you cried out, your voice a rasp and laced in pain and arousal.

His whole body shuddered as he came with a deep moan tearing up his throat, his come filling you up, spurting and hot and you felt full.

Michael had never finished inside of you before.

You weren't on any contraceptives, but the thought was lost in the shadows of your subconscious as Michael rode out his high before pulling out, sighing as he watched how his cum mixed with your pooled between her pussy and dripped between your thighs. He ran a finger through it and you whimpered.

Michael lifted his hand to your lips, his eyes burned as he looked at you, “open.”

Doing as told, you parted your lips and his finger slid against your tongue, which you then took to swirling it around the digit and sucked on it.

He could only long to have those pretty lips of yours wrapped around him, but he knew they didn’t have the time before dinner.

You let go of his fingers with a pop and immediately after his mouth pressed to yours, though this time much more gentle and he slowly lowered your legs and rubbed circles into your thighs through the latex.

“You did so good for me,” he muttered and your hands buried in his hair and pulled him closer, your lips molding together.

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It was seven in the morning and you had only just forced yourself up to make a cup of coffee after the London premiere for your movie when the phone rang. Your tired eyes blinked at it, confused as to why it would be doing such an offensive thing at this hour.

You picked it up on the last ring, voice rough around the edges with sleep, “hello?”

“Baby? Did I wake you?”

Your sleepiness waned a little bit at the sound of Michael’s voice. “No, I got up a few minutes ago. You okay? Isn’t it like two—“

“Have you turned on the tv or read the paper at all?”

As your grogginess faded, you started to pick up on the edge to his voice.

Your brows furrowed. “No? Why?”

He sighed. “Baby, I’m really sorry. Really. I don’t know how it happened, someone must’ve gone through my things. I’m gonna have to have Bill do a screening on everybody and—“

“Michael, slow down.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “What happened?”

The other end of the line was dead silent and you gnawed at your lip, dread suddenly pooling low in your stomach.

“…No.”

“I’m really sorry.”

Your knuckles tightened on the phone and your teeth sank into your bottom lip before you threw your head back— “Fuck!”

You slumped against the wall, not having the faintest idea on what to do with yourself.

“I mean,” Michael started, tone cautious, “on the bright side, you looked great—“

“Michael, do not finish that sentence.”

You lowered the phone and stared up at the ceiling. Mind reeling because of course this had to happen. Your manager was going to kill you and you dreaded the phone call you’d undoubtedly get within the next hour.

Your gaze then flicked down to the kitchen counter, breath hitching because you had completely forgotten you’d taken a test last night. Two, actually. Just in case.

“Michael,” you started slowly, staring at the two pink plus signs.

“Yeah, baby?”

“How quickly can you get a flight to London?”

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michael jackson masterlist

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You kept catching him looking at you.

Michael’s eyes would flick away quickly, acting like nothing was amiss. Which, technically, nothing was. The two of you were sitting on the floor leaning against his bed while watching a movie, a typical Sunday night in the Jackson household when things got calm for a rare moment.

You had thought he sounded a little off when he had called you to come over, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what.

Nervous didn’t really feel like the right word. Perhaps because you couldn’t think of a single reason why he would be. That very small and delusional voice in the back of your head whispered he was going to confess his feelings for you— but that would be insane.

The two of you had been friends for a while now after getting introduced to each other by a few mutual people and you had clicked.

It was easy, being around him. He probably had the same sentiments considering he still called you to hang out whenever he got a moment of down time.

When you caught him looking at you again, you decided to bite the bullet and nudge his knee with yours.

“You okay?”

“What? Yeah, fine.” He rushed. A little too quickly, in your opinion.

Your eyes narrowed. “Michael.”

His eyes slated to look at you for a moment, attempting to keep up the facade, but something in your expression made him cave.

With a sigh, he lowered the volume on the movie and turned toward you, suddenly beat red in the face and your mind was running a million miles an hour.

“I have a question,” he slowly started. Wringing his hands in his lap and suddenly not looking at you at all even though earlier he couldn’t seem to help himself.

Your eyes flicked over him, trying to get a read on what could possibly be going on but you came up blank. “Okay.”

“I…” Michael blew some air out of his mouth and suddenly laughed while looking at the ceiling. “God, this is crazy. Okay, so I, I uh… I need help with something.”

Your brows furrowed. “Okay?”

“It’s complicated and probably crossing some sort of line… and it’s also completely okay if you say no. I just want you to know first that this is in no way me trying to take advantage or trying to ruin anything. And I want you to know that I’m asking because I trust you and feel safe with you and I feel like you also feel the same way. I mean, I hope you do.” You could tell he just wanted to spit it out but looked as though he would vomit if he tried to before he was ready.

Leaning over to grab his hands, half in comfort and half to get him to stop twisting his fingers around, you gave his hands a supportive squeeze. “I do. And whatever you need help with, just know there is no judgement.”

He raised a brow at you, unsure. “None?”

“None whatsoever.”

Michael didn’t seem convinced so you held up your hand, “pinky promise.”

That got him to laugh a little bit, just a small amount of tension easing out of his shoulders as he locked pinkies with you to seal the deal.

He then let out a slow breath, eyes dancing back up to the ceiling as if in a silent prayer before he looked back at you. When his teeth sunk into his bottom lip for a moment you couldn’t help but look.

“I need to know how to go down a girl.”

You blinked.

“Pardon?”

He then covered his face with his hands, clearly embarrassed. “I knew I shouldn't have—“

“No, no, it’s just I wasn’t… I don’t know what I was expecting.” You pulled his hands from his face, your own cheeks their own deep shade of red. “It’s just, I mean— why me? What do you need to know? Do you want a bullet point list or a diagram—“

“I tried all that.”

“On a girl?” It slipped out before you thought better of it. Your envious curiosity being your downfall. You had absolutely no desire to hear about other girls he might’ve been with.

“No, the lists and diagrams, they just didn’t seem informative enough.” He said it slowly and wasn’t looking at you again.

It took an embarrassingly long moment for you to realize to what scale he was asking you to help him.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You hummed, leaning back on your palms as your mind and heart tried to get each other to calm down. “I see.”

Seconds ticked by. All you could hear was your heartbeat and Michael started going a little blurry at the edges of your vision as flashes of dreams you’ve had flicked through your mind.

Dreams one definitely should not have about their friend.

“So?”

You crossed your legs, wishing for those things in your head to go away but then panic started bubbling up in your chest. “I mean… yes? Sure, but do you mean now?”

“No no no, there’s not really a timeline. Whenever you’re ready and comfortable. Are you positive this is okay?”

More than okay, actually. “Of course, just… helping a friend out.”

He laughed as he looked down, “right.”

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Well, fuck.

As soon as he shut the car door for you and it disappeared down the driveway, he felt like he could finally breathe again.

He felt like he had been on the brink of passing out the last two hours.

In all honesty, he was surprised he had even gotten the words out.

The idea had popped into his head a while ago, something he was ashamed but also intrigued by. He just heard things, stuff around him being discussed that piqued his interest. And then someone would ask him about his experience and he’d draw up a blank.

Even though he’s only in his twenties and lived a life worth a thousand lifetimes— he still fell short on some experiences. Mostly interpersonal or intimate.

There was also that little chirp in his head that said gaining more experience in that area would improve his song writing.

Always a working man, apparently.

And like Michael said, he had tried other avenues. Buying sex education books, published articles, magazines… but it was all too structured. Inorganic. Academic and cold.

He wanted more of a human touch, but given who he was it couldn’t just be anyone. And late one night, staring up at the ceiling as moonlight danced across his room, he thought of you.

He immediately felt ashamed about it. You were his friend, he shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. Although yes, he has admittedly found you attractive, he said he’d never go there.

But once his mind found a little footing on an idea, he couldn’t drop it.

Then the dreams started and that became a whole other hell.

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Six days had passed.

Six days of feeling like you weren’t able to breathe.

You didn’t want to admit the amount of money you dropped on getting ready for this.

For Michael Jackson to eat you out.

God, you were going to faint.

You’d been waxed, showered, body oils, your nails done, a new pair of lace panties, the whole package really. Part of you felt like it was all over kill but it was Michael fucking Jackson.

You wanted it, you, to be perfect.

And although he was the biggest star in the world, you didn’t want him to feel intimidated. Intimacy was a new field entirely and he seemed anxious enough asking you.

So you stuck with an outfit that was simple but still a little spiced up. A cute skirt and a nice top that made the girls look nice. Your hair was done up in a messy sort of up do— he had complimented it when it was like this a few weeks ago.

And to top it all off a pair of heels.

He had called you the day before, telling you to knock on the door of the studio when you got there, not wanting his family to come snooping.

So you stilled your breath, heels clicking on the ground as you neared the door.

“I can do this.”

And you knocked.

Mere heartbeats passed before you heard the lock click and the door opened.

You smiled, trying not to come off as shy as you felt when your eyes met his.

“Hi, Michael.”

He seemed slightly taken off guard, clearing his throat after a moment. “Hey.”

You felt like you were in high school all over again.

“So, where are we doing this?” You cringed at your wording.

“Right.” He was blushing again as he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. “Follow me.”

Michael sneaking you through his house provided enough of an entertaining distraction to let you relax a bit. You were just helping him out. There were no stakes. No strings. Even if you wanted there to be.

The door to his room shut softly behind him and you watched in amusement as he slowly and quietly turned the lock.

“Hopefully it’s late enough so no one will bother us.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, maybe just put on some music.”

“Right, good idea.”

He looked adorable as his eyes briefly flicked to yours before looking away as he began to shuffle though his records.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

You were going to melt through the floor. “Thank you.”

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He watched you, quite intently, as you sat on the edge of his bed. Back straight and hands placed neatly in your lap.

You looked like an angel.

Your eyes were on his before flicking down briefly, messing with a bracelet you had on. “So, what do you already know? Just so I have an idea.”

He felt heat pool into his cheeks, briefly glancing at the ceiling before clearing his throat. He felt more nervous now than he did performing in front of thousands of people.

“Basics, I suppose. With oral sex for women, I’m mainly supposed to focus on the… the uh, y’know.” God, he felt aware of all of his bones. If he couldn’t even say it, how was he supposed to do it. To you.

You smiled at him, though not in any teasing way to make him retreat. “It’s funny, with stuff like this. Doing it is usually less intimidating than talking about it.”

Michael nodded, rubbing at the nape of his neck as he rolled a question around in his mind. One he couldn’t help but be curious about while also dreading to hear your answer.

But he couldn’t help it.

“Have you done this before?”

You blinked at him.

“You don’t have to answer that, I was just curious—“

“A few times. I mean, I wasn’t showing someone how to do it, like now. And they were alright, it helped me find out what I like, which is what I’ll tell you.”

Michael nodded. A little annoyed that other people had had the privilege but he decided not to dwell on the fact for now or come to terms for what that meant for him.

Your nails tapped a rhythm into your leg. “So, whenever you’re ready—“

“Can we play a game first? Just to, y’know, calm the nerves?”

Twenty minutes later the two of you were tangled up on a Twister mat. Laughing as one had to stretch uncomfortably and almost fall over.

The momentary distraction did help ease his nerves but it definitely made something else more apparent.

Your skirt was incredibly short.

You barely had to bend over for him to start seeing the subtle curve of your ass cheek meet your thigh. That sight alone was inticing… and then he saw the lace of your underwear.

Fuck me, was a statement that had been running through his mind. He tried not to look, really he did. But the thin lace was right there and not leaving much to the imagination, and then he’d remember what exactly you were here for.

Michael knew his composure was steadily unraveling and when you bent over again for your turn he cleared his throat.

“I think I’m ready.”

You stood up, brows raised slightly in surprise at his sudden statement, rouge bleeding into your cheeks.

“Okay, come here.”

And then your fingers laced with his as you walked back to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it and he was about to join you but you stopped him with your fingers hooked into his belt loops.

He looked down at you, that sight alone— that low voice in the back of his head wondering how lovely you’d look with his cock in your mouth right now…

What had gotten into him?

“Kneel.”

One word. That’s all it took, and he did as told.

Lowering to his knees in front of you, eyes on yours because he suddenly discovered he couldn’t— didn’t want to look anywhere else.

You held his gaze and you took his hands, bringing them to your knees. He got the hint, gently spreading them wider so he could slot between them easily.

Then you were laying down, his own eyes flicking lower and he could see the lace.

Really, your skirt was a pathetic excuse for a piece of sufficient clothing. Not that he minded given the circumstances.

Then his hands were dancing up, fingers dragging along your thighs and watching as goosebumps followed in the wake of his touch.

He was pushing your skirt up around your waist and when he finally got to see your underwear entirely he felt his heart skip a beat.

The bow at the top was adorable.

And you were right there… legs spread and only a thin piece of cloth hiding you away.

“Should I—“ he cleared his throat, given the words came out more hoarse than he intended. “Should I take these off?” His fingers looped on the string but you grabbed his wrist.

“Not yet.” Then you dragged his hand over, right above you and he could feel the heat rolling off you in waves. “The build up is just as important.”

He nodded, taking mental notes while he was still able to focus.

“Like you said, main point to focus on is here.”

His index and middle finger gently pressed down and he saw the muscles in your thighs twitch.

Noted.

Your breath came out a little heavier. “And if you slide down, just there, that’s the entrance. You can tease that through the lace as well.”

His fingers slid down to where you said, feeling the fabric cave in a little bit but that’s not what made him suck in a breath.

You were wet.

The lace already damp with your arousal, for him, and Michael felt the room start to tip slightly. His self restraint starting to lose its balance.

“You can choose to do it with your hands, but given what you— oh.”

He wasn’t thinking straight, or at all, lowering himself with little hesitation and his mouth latched onto your clit through your underwear.

A sound started to slip past your lips but you bit it back when he applied a rolling pressure with his tongue.

He wanted to hear it again.

His ears were ringing but he followed your instructions. Each one coming out in a more labored breath. His hands gripping onto the soft flesh of your thighs as he worked, focused, intent on hearing the way you tried to bite back whimpers.

And then he slid down, tongue teasing the entrance of your pussy as his nose brushed against your clit and you moaned.

It felt like he was hearing the trumpets of heaven and you tasted clean. Erotic. He didn’t know how else to describe it, but you were so fucking wet. Both from your own arousal and his saliva, that the lace was sticking to you like a second skin and he could almost see you. Almost.

And finally finally you told him to move your underwear to the side and when his eyes finally landed on your pussy he groaned before diving back in. Tongue tracing from your clit to your to your cunt and you tasted better than anything he had ever imagined.

Your back arched off the bed, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to hold back a shout.

“I wanna hear you,” he muttered, feeling hazy as his tongue flattened over your clit and his cock was so hard that it hurt.

You cried out, trying to muffle the sound with your hand and he almost missed the way you said his name.

He wanted to hear his name like that from your mouth for the rest of his life.

As if he were starving, his fingers dug into your thighs as he dragged his tongue down and started to fuck you with his tongue and lips and teeth. Being driven even further towards the brink of insanity every time you said more or right there.

Your hands twined into his hair, hips rolling up to meet his mouth and he was determined to make you come. To do it just right.

The thought of you making a mess all over his mouth made his cock twitch in his pants and he was half worried he’d finish right then and there like he was a teenager.

His eyes then flicked up, eyes catching yours and then you flat out moaned his name, the sound coming from your soul it seemed and he felt something in him snap.

Michael didn’t even realize what he was doing, two fingers dragging over your pussy before they slid inside, curving them to your body and you were so soft and fucking warm.

Then his fingers pressed against something textured and you would’ve flown off the bed if he hadn’t secured an arm over your hips.

The sounds in the room dancing just below the volume of the music were lewd. Sinful. Your body being contorted in pleasure as you grinded against his face.

All he could sense was you.

Then your muscles tensed, your head rolling back and God the way his name dripped off your tongue.

“Michael, I’m— I’m…”

And then you came, your pussy tightening in a pulse around his fingers and he could feel your heartbeat on his tongue.

He was lost. Completely.

Not being able to stop himself even as your legs tightened around his head. Not even as you cried it’s too much.

He wanted more like a man who had stumbled across paradise after wandering in the desert for too long.

Just too fucking thirsty.

“Michael.”

Then his lips and chin were suddenly very, very wet.

He blinked as he pulled back, meeting your wide eyes. Watching as your gaze flicked down the wetness covering the lower half of his face and you sucked in a breath.

His mind was short circuiting.

He’d read about when a woman does that, though not super often and Michael hadn’t even let it occur to mind that he could make someone do that.

Make you do that.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t even know I could—“

He felt like his common sense had taken a seat in the back of his mind because next thing he knew he was pushing you back onto the bed, crawling over you and lips crashing into yours. Hips rolling with a mind of their own and that first sensation of warmth and pressure against his cock even through his slacks made him shiver.

It was messy and wonderful. Teeth hitting against each other and tongues sliding in their own dance.

Your hands fumbled with his zipper and then—

“Fuck,” Michael’s face fell into the crook of your neck when he felt your hand wrap around him.

Your hand dragged up along the shaft, thumb swiping against his tip that had been leaking pre-come for who knew how long and he shuddered against you, hips seeking out more as he thrusted into your hand.

He was in such a lust induced haze he felt like the world wasn’t even real anymore. Just you and him and the edge heaven at the tips of his fingers.

It wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

Michael was desperate. His hips rolling in search of more and he accidentally slid the tip of his cock right up along your pussy. Gathering wetness and you were just so fucking warm— he wasn’t thinking. Honestly, he wasn’t.

His mouth met yours again and then his hips lowered, cock sliding in instead of up and he felt whatever willpower he had break.

You felt so fucking good and then you moaned and before the next breath he was in all the way to tne hilt.

His heavy lidded eyes met your own and when he slowly dragged out, watching in fascination as your pupils expanded into pools of ink with your mouth dropped open… who was he to put a stop to this?

So he thrusted back in. Back out. Slow and deliberate and so fucking wonderful.

“You feel like heaven,” his words came out broken, his own moan fracturing his speech.

His name left your lips in a cry, your legs wrapped around his hips and deeper he went. He wanted to go deeper in ways that weren’t physically possible and his eyes flicked down. Seeing the way your pussy took him so well and he didn’t even feel human right now.

Michael’s thrust became harder and his pace quickened into something more erratic and wild, mouth on yours, sloppy and wet and when he felt you tighten around him as you came again he tipped right over the edge with you.

Seeing stars behind his eyes as he came and he couldn’t stop. Something in his soul begging him to keep going. Making sure he got all of it inside of you, not a drop wasted because it really would’ve been such a fucking waste.

After what felt like a daydream finally concluding, Michael collapsed on top of you. Breathing heavy and his heartbeat so loud he felt like he was underwater.

Your arms were still wrapped around him as he settled between your thighs and against your chest, trying to catch your breath.

Your bodies were covered in sweat that made the air a bit cool against the skin and when he shivered, both from the temperature and his body coming down from the shock of pleasure, did it dawn on Michael of what exactly he just did.

God forgive me.

Slowly, he raised himself up on his arms, not being able to help himself as he watched his cock pull out, both of your releases covering him and seeping out of you. It was probably the hottest thing he’d ever seen but it wasn’t enough to overshadow the reality of what he’d just done.

“I didn’t mean to—“

“Michael, that was…” you blinked up at the ceiling. Looking fucked out and like an angel in his bed sheets. “Wow.”

He blushed, despite what he just did to you. Michael didn’t regret it, that he was sure of. In fact, he knew he wanted to do it again.

“I think I still need some more practice.” He muttered, leaning down to catch your lips with his and you hummed.

“Agreed. Same time next Sunday?”

He shook his head as he pulled back, teeth catching onto your bottom lip. “I was thinking tomorrow.”

michael jackson masterlist

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Everybody on the set knew Michael Jackson was hopelessly in love and obsessed with his girlfriend, Y/N.

Not regular boyfriend obsessed. Not casual celebrity relationship obsessed. No.

This man looked at her like every love song he’d ever written had somehow become a person.

And unlike people assumed Michael wasn’t oblivious. Naive sometimes? Sure. Too kind for his own good? Absolutely. But stupid? Never.

He noticed when women flirted with him. He noticed the lingering touches. The giggling. The way too-long stares. He just usually ignored it because none of it mattered to him.

Not when his Y/N existed.

And honestly? Michael kind of enjoyed letting people embarrass themselves sometimes.

Especially when Y/N got possessive.

Because underneath all her confidence his girl had a little crazy in her.

Not toxic crazy. Fun crazy. Sharp-tongued. Territorial. The kind that smiled sweetly while threatening somebody psychologically.

And Michael secretly adored it. Secretly even got a little bit turned on by it.

Especially during the making of his album History.

Because, lucky Michael, Y/N followed him everywhere during that time. Sets. Tours. Studios. Rehearsals. You name it, she was there. And he absolutely love it and begged for her to be around.

Sometimes she would sit behind the monitors in giant sunglasses and one of his jackets criticizing choreography like an offended sports commentator.

Sometimes she wandered onto stage during lighting checks just to bother (kiss) him while he worked.

And Michael? Oh, he orbited her constantly.

If she disappeared too long he noticed immediately.

If somebody annoyed her he noticed immediately.

If she looked jealous—oh, he definitely noticed immediately.

Which became a problem once that stupid (according to Y/N) backup dancer showed up.

Beautiful girl. Very aware she was beautiful too. One of those women who walked around like every room was an audition.

At first it was harmless. Too much laughing. Standing too close. Finding excuses to touch Michael during rehearsals. Nothing they weren’t used to. And Michael ignored all of it politely. Not passively, though. He’d subtly step away. Redirect conversations. Immediately look for Y/N afterward.

One afternoon during choreography rehearsal the dancer pressed herself against him during a move that absolutely did not require it. Michael caught it instantly.

His expression flickered. Not flustered, no.

Annoyed.

He stepped backward smoothly.

“Careful,” he said lightly. “That’s not part of the choreography.”

The room went awkwardly quiet.

Because the correction sounded polite, but very pointed. The dancer recovered quickly though. Smiling wider instead. “Sorry,” she purred. “It’s hard to focus around you.” Michael gave the smallest tight smile imaginable.

Then immediately looked across the room.

Right toward where Y/N was.

She sat on top of a monitor table sipping on some tea while watching the entire interaction over the rim of her cup.

Their eyes met instantly. And Michael saw it.

That little look.

Worse than insecurity.

Amusement. Dangerous amusement. Like she was deciding whether to kill somebody recreationally.

Michael bit back a smile and abandoned rehearsal entirely, walking straight toward her.

The dancer blinked in disbelief and confusion.

Michael stopped between Y/N’s knees automatically while she looked up at him lazily.

“You surviving over there?” she asked sweetly.

Michael leaned down just enough for only her to hear. “She’s annoying me.”

Y/N nearly smiled. Nearly. Instead she tilted her head innocently.

“Aw. You need me to save you?”

Michael looked at her through his lashes with a tiny smirk. “Maybe I want you to.”

That was the thing about Michael. People thought he was shy all the time. But around Y/N? He knew exactly what he was doing.

The next few days only got worse.

The dancer became bolder because apparently humiliation wasn’t enough to stop her.

One day Y/N walked into Michael’s trailer and immediately stopped in her tracks.

The dancer stood there laughing at something Michael clearly had not found funny.

Too close again. Hand on his arm. Michael looked up the second Y/N entered.

And immediately—immediately—his entire body language changed. Relief crossed his face and his shoulders relaxed.

“Baby.” He said, an enormous smile taking over his pretty face.

That one word alone made the dancer look irritated.

Michael stood up right away crossing the trailer toward Y/N while the dancer still talked. It was like he genuinely forgot she existed halfway through the conversation. And the best part was that he didn’t even did it on purpose.

He kissed Y/N’s forehead softly before murmuring. “Please tell me you’re done with wardrobe?”

The dancer stared at them like she wanted to scream. Or commit a felony.

Y/N smiled sweetly.

“Mhm.” Then she looked toward the dancer casually and waved her fingers at her. “Oh. Hi.”

The girl crossed her arms. “You’re always here.”

Michael answered before Y/N could. “Yeah.” He looked down at Y/N and smiled. “That’s where I keep her.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip, a small giggle getting through. The dancer clenched her jaw. And Michael noticed that too. Because again: that man was not oblivious.

That night after filming the music video wrapped, Y/N sat in Michael’s lap backstage while he removed the iconic tape pieces from his fingers. He grunted with frustration as one particular tape was stubbornly sticking to his hand. He shook his head lightly and placed his hand on Y/N’s lap, giving up on taking it off. She took his hand in his and started to work on it.

“Told you she wants you,” Y/N muttered, eyes on the tape.

Michael didn’t even look up.

“She wants attention.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “She does?”

Now Michael looked up. Completely calm. “Baby, women who actually get my attention don’t act like that.”

That sentence sat directly in Y/N’s bloodstream for the next forty-eight business hours.

Unfortunately the dancer overheard enough little moments like that to start resenting Y/N badly.

And truly? Y/N was handling the situation with all the grace and emotional restraint of a jealous housecat.

Not because she doubted Michael, never that. But because watching another woman repeatedly ignore boundaries made her act a bit mean.

One morning while getting some coffee with a makeup artist from the crew, Y/N watched the dancer laugh a little too loudly at something Michael said from across the room. She stared for a moment.

“You know,” Y/N said casually to the makeup artist, “I actually feel bad for her.”

He looked up.

“Why?”

Y/N sighed dramatically. “Can you imagine embarrassing yourself in front of Michael Jackson every day?”

“Babes, that’s literally all you do.”

“That’s different.” She argued, eyes not leaving Michael’s little annoyed expression as the dancer talked his ear off.

The makeup artist frowned. “How?”

“Well, he thinks it’s cute when I do it.”

That made him snort.

Across the room, the dancer laughed again. Too loud. Way too loud for Y/N’s liking.

Y/N’s eye twitched. Just a little. Michael looked up automatically. Their eyes met.

And immediately he knew.

Uh-oh.

The dancer kept talking. Y/N kept pretending she wasn’t watching. Michael kept pretending he wasn’t watching her watch him.

The cycle continued for approximately three full minutes. And then rehearsal finally broke for lunch.

Michael made it maybe halfway across the room before finding her. As usual. As he always did.

He dropped into the chair beside her, arms crossed over his chest and a tini-tiny smirk on his pretty face. He looked far too pleased with himself.

Y/N narrowed her eyes.

“I don’t like your face.” She motioned to his face.

“My face?”

“That face you have going on.”

“What face?” He was doing it on purpose at this point.

Y/N nodded, a bit annoyed, actually. “The one you’re making right now.”

Michael smiled. Exactly. That face.

Y/N sighed dramatically.

“She’s so annoying.”

Michael’s smile widened instantly, cheeks starting to hurt. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N looked away rolling her eyes.

Michael bit the inside of his cheek as he tried not to laugh. He failed, the tiniest of giggles leaving his lips. “Baby.”

“Oh, don’t you ‘baby’ me.” Y/N said, a pout taking over her face as she crossed her arms over her chest.

He shook his head in a very teasing way.

“Oh, my miss possessive.”

Y/N whipped her head around so fast. “Excuse me?” Voice laced with annoyance.

Michael’s smile got bigger.

“Miss Possessive.”

“Michael.”

“My miss Possessive.”

“I swear to God—”

Now he was just fully laughing. Shoulders shaking. Head ducked down. The worst part? The man looked delighted. Absolutely delighted.

“You were staring.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You so were.”

“I was observing.”

Michael nodded thoughtfully. “Right.”

“I was.”

“Very scientific.”

“Exactly.”

“Research purposes, am I right?”

“Absolutely.”

Michael looked away again. Trying (unsuccessfully) to recover.

Y/N pointed a sharp finger at him, eyes wide. “Stop enjoying this.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” She nodded. “Too much, actually.”

“I’m really not.” He mumbled holding his hands up like a guilty man.

“Michael.”

“Okay, maybe I am enjoying little.” He clicked his tongue. “You’re cute when you’re jelous of me.”

Y/N groaned loudly and threw her head back. Michael looked like he’d just won an award. “I don’t get jelous.” Deny, deny, deny.

Michael nodded, a full ironic expression on his face. “Right, what ever makes you sleep at night, princess.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Deny, deny, deny.’ She thought to herself. But then again, what the hell? “You know what?” She finally snapped, whipping her head in his direction. Immediately he perked up.

“What?”

She cocked her head to the side and raised her brows for a moment. “I lied.” She stared into his eyes. Michael blinked.

“You lied?”

“Yeah.”

She threw both hands into the air. “I’m jealous.”

Silence. Then Michael smiled so hard he nearly looked embarrassed.

“Really?”

“Oh, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That.”

Y/N pointed at him again.

“The face again.”

“What face?”

“The one I just said you do when you’re enjoying something way too much.”

Michael laughed. Actually laughed.

Oh, the audacity of this man.

“Baby—”

“Shut up.”

“Baby.”

“Nope.”

“You’re so cute.”

Y/N covered her face immediately.

“This is very humiliating for me.”

Michael gently pulled one of her hands away.

Still smiling. Still completely in awe of her.

“I like that you care.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“I do.” He intertwined their fingers and kissed her hands.

“You’re making it worse.”

Michael leaned closer.

“Miss Possessive.” He whispered.

Y/N pointed at him immediately.

“Keep talking and I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not.”

She stared at him for about two seconds. “Yeah, probably not.”

“Exactly.”

And somehow that made him smile even bigger.

One afternoon the dancer walked past Y/N and muttered. “Some girls get way too comfortable.”

Y/N smiled immediately. “Oh, I’m beyond comfortable, thank you!”

The makeup artist nearby actually choked on her water at that.

Then came the shirt.

Michael arrived on set late one morning wearing black jeans, curls tied back loosely, sunglasses and a T-Shirt that read:

MY GIRLFRIEND IS HOTTER THAN YOU

That man.

That. Impossible. Man.

The crew in the studio did not know how to react.

Screaming.

Wheezing.

People dropping things.

Y/N’s hand just flew over her mouth, disbelief flashed across her face. She shook her negativity head at him.

That infuriatingly beautiful man.

“Michael Jackson, you are unbelievable.”

Michael looked around confused.

“What?”

“You cannot wear that!”

He glanced down at the shirt casually.

“What? I thought it was cute.”

“You are insane.”

Michael smiled slowly then. A little smug this time. Good Lord. “I know.”

Y/N stared at him in disbelief.

“You did that on purpose?”

Michael shrugged lightly. Then leaned close enough for only her to hear. “She keeps staring at me.”

Y/N went silent immediately.

Because oh. So he had noticed.

Michael slid his sunglasses down slightly.

“And she keeps making you mad.”

Y/N folded her arms trying not to look pleased.

“And?”

“And I don’t like it.”

That should not have been as attractive as it was. Unfortunately for Y/N it was devastatingly attractive.

Y/N just shook her head again, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face into his chest. Michael let out a loud laugh and kissed the top of her head.

The final confrontation happened two days later.

Y/N sat backstage getting her eyeliner fixed when the dancer appeared again.

Arms crossed, cocky expression on her face.

“You know,” she started casually, “it’s kind of embarrassing how attached he is to you.”

Y/N looked at her through the mirror.

“It is?”

“He’s obsessed.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “Yeah, I know.”

That clearly wasn’t the reaction the dancer wanted. She stepped closer.

“I just think if Michael met somebody more…” She actually looked Y/N up and down. “,exciting—”

Y/N actually laughed this time. Not fake. Real. Sharp. “Okay,” She mumbled still smiling.

Then finally she stood up slowly.

And suddenly the room felt different.

Because Y/N wasn’t intimidated. Not even slightly.

She walked closer until the dancer had to tilt her head upward slightly.

“My boyfriend would never look twice at you,” Y/N said calmly.

The dancer scoffed. “You sound very confident.”

“I am.” Then Y/N smiled. Mean. Beautiful. “But if you wanna embarrass yourself…” She shrugged lightly. “Try him.”

And apparently the woman was dumb enough to do exactly that.

Later during rehearsal Michael sat alone near the stage sipping on some orange juice while checking choreography notes when the dancer approached.

Y/N watched from across the set already bitting down a smile because she knew this was about to go horribly.

The girl leaned against his chair.

“You know…” she said softly. “I think you deserve somebody less possessive.”

“Huh?” Michael looked up slowly, brows frowned slightly. Already looking very unimpressed. “My girlfriend is a little possessive.” His eyes flickered briefly to where Y/N stood, a small smile appearing on his lips. “I like it.”

The girl laughed lightly.

“She watches every woman around you.”

Michael capped his water bottle calmly.

“Because every woman around me keeps bothering me.” The dancer blinked. Michael continued before she could recover. “And honestly?” He tilted his head slightly. “I’m starting to think y’all do it on purpose.”

The dancer forced a smile. “I just think maybe you’d get bored eventually.”

Michael stared at her for a long moment. Then glanced across the room toward Y/N. And the second he saw her? His entire face softened automatically.

Then he looked back at the dancer and said very simply: “I’ve been in love with her for years.” Silence. “People don’t get boring when you actually love them.”

Murder. Complete murder.

The dancer looked like she wanted earth to swallow her whole now.

And Michael wasn’t finished. Because suddenly he smiled politely. Not cruel, which felt, somehow, worse. “And respectfully…” He gestured vaguely toward Y/N across the room. “Have you seen my girlfriend?”

The dancer’s face went blank. She honestly didn’t know what to say.

Y/N covered her face laughing discreetly, pretending she wasn’t doing her absolute best to eavesdrop when Michael finally stood up and walked straight toward her.

The second he reached her he wrapped one arm around her waist naturally, pulling her closer.

Y/N looked up at him through a grin.

“You’re a little crazy in the head, you know that, right?”

Michael looked very pleased with himself.

“Yeah? Well, I’ve learned from the best.” He teased her and Y/N shook her head.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Then Y/N grabbed the front of his stupid shirt and kissed him right there in front of everybody. Just because she could.

And because Michael Jackson looked at her like she’d invented sunshine just to brighten his day.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・.・。.・゜✭

Tags:

Michael was high on the success of his first solo album and the breakthrough he was making on his own. He had plans for his visuals and short films, eager to share with the world his creative vision.

Around this time you had begun to find your own footing in the industry as a soloist, your path following similar to Michael's. You grew up as a Motown artist alongside your two older sisters, your trio becoming a household name by the time you were seven. You were two years younger than Michael but the comparisons were strong. Both very young leads of your respective groups with voices of gold.

Once you were in your mid teens, you couldn't escape the comparisons and you and your sisters were forced to do appearances alongside Michael and his brothers. You were fifteen and growing irritable with the need to group you with the fellow child star. You personally liked Michael and his gentle personality, but hated when others compared your talents.

Off The Wall came out months after your solo album had broken endless records, with Michael catching up closely to you.

"Ah! I congratulated her on the success of her album!" He quipped to an interviewer for one of the very few press releases he agreed to. "She's been a dear friend of mine ever since childhood. Our musical paths tend to align so I'm always looking forward to what's next for her."

Your careers were an endless cycle of comparison, lasting all the way until the moment Michael broke through with Thriller. A part of you felt slight resentment towards him for being the first black artist to truly crossover internationally. You followed shortly after, however you didn't sell as much as Thriller had. You were always in Michael's shadow to some extent, the second most selling album of time title haunting you as every interviewer asked the million dollar question—how did it feel being second best to Michael?

It felt like a punch in the gut to your artistry, though you never despised Michael himself for it. Not when a part of your heart was reserved for him, something he could never know.

AMA '89 night

A decade after your solo breakthrough, you appear on the American Music Awards red carpet, smiling brightly as you wave and pose for the blinding flare of cameras.

"This way darling!" The paparazzi call out, wanting the best shots of your frame fitting champagne colored dress. It shimmered under the lighting, pairing well against your skin tone.

You finish up your shots, blowing a kiss towards the press, and are led off the carpet by your personal assistant Lia, who rambles about all the stars you have to be seen with that night.

"As always, the press wants to see the King and Queen of pop together. Make sure to spend some time with Michael at any point tonight." You knew this was coming. You couldn't ever escape Michael if you were at the same event. Your stomach twists at the thought of him, as you zone out on Lia's words the moment she brought him up.

"Hey, did you hear a word I just said?" She says your name with a ounce of irritation and you glance at her with a sheepish smile.

"Nope. Something about formalities with other stars, especially Michael." She nods at you while guiding you towards your table for the ceremony.

"Alright well, at least you caught the most important part. I believe he should be seated somewhere near you so it'll be easy to just give him a quick hug, smile, kiss on the cheek like you always do and keep pushing." Her afro bounces as she whips her head around, searching for your table as you stop occasionally, greeting your fellow peers.

"Yes, that'll be easy." You speak through gritted teeth, finally continuing your conversation after cutting through the crowd.

"I know how much you despise him-"

"But I don't." You toss a glance her way as you sit down at your spot, a large ‘32’ on the table signifying the assigned table.

She sighs and nods unconvincingly. "Sure. Anyways, he's at table 35 I heard. Make yourself known at some point with him. I want it to be front page news tomorrow." She points a warning finger at you as your raise your hands in defense, laughing at her.

"You're the boss!" She smiles at you before disappearing off to another table. You're joined by a few familiar faces, grinning as you hug your close friend, Whitney.

"So glad you're here with me, dear. If I have to sit near another one of these rock bands I'm gonna lose it." She whispers as you hug, making your body shake with laughter.

You sit through the award show casually sipping on your cocktail, smiling when the camera panned to you, and getting up to hug Whitney each time she had won.

You held your breath as the winner for Favorite Pop/Rock Male Artist was about to be announced, a category Michael was nominated for.

When George Michael's name was called, you couldn't help and look towards Michael, his face adorning a smile as he clapped. Your heart nearly fell to your stomach when his eyes shift over towards you, two tables over. You look away, attempting to avoid his burning gaze.

You were called onto the AMA stage five times that night, sweeping every category you were nominated in. As you give your fifth speech of the night, your eyes land on Michael who stared in adoration, his eyes nearly sparkling like your dress.

You hate how a simple glance makes your stomach do flips, nearly throwing off your speech midway. You step off stage with a grin, and are met with a choir of congratulations as you return to your seat. A brief commercial break ensues, giving you a moment to recompose yourself before the cameras flared back up.

That moment is quickly ruined when you feel a hand brush against your shoulder. Turning, you see Michael looking down at you, his infectious smile crossing his face. He leans down, bringing his lips close to your ear to speak.

"Thought I'd come by and congratulate you." He pulls back enough to see your face as your eyebrow quirks up. You recognize the flashing appearing around you as the press snapped photos of their two biggest stars interacting. You ignore it, reaching for Michael so his ear is near your mouth, mimicking his actions moments ago.

"You can never let me approach you first can you? Always gotta one up me." You tease with a playful smirk forming on your lips. He chuckles and lowers once more, his breath fanning against your ear and neck.

"Seems only right considering you're the big winner tonight. Good sportsmanship is important to me." He stays close this time, watching you carefully. The venue was booming, the chatter of the crowd ringing in your ears— yet the pound of your heart seemed to overpower it all.

Your musical rivalry was more on the playful, almost flirtatious, side of things. You know Michael is a Virgo perfectionist and your ego and passion for greatness are two forces that clashed, and yet the two of you remained friends regardless.

"Thank you for the congratulations, Michael. I hope to see you on that stage tonight too." You spoke directly to him this time, his eyes filtering across your face. His large palm squeezes your knee as a thanks, goosebumps forming from his touch. He gets up just as the cue that commercial break was over began. You watch him with precision, catching the way he looks your way once more after sitting down, not expecting to see you already looking. A faint smirk crosses his faces before he looks down and you turn back towards the stage with a slow sip of your drink.

When he accepts his Lifetime Achievement award later that evening, you stand as you clap to show your support. His eyes cut across the crowd while he speaks, addressing the whole room with his gratitude, yet you make eye contact multiple times throughout his speech. He has to be messing with you…

The awards wrap shortly after Michael's award and you catch Lia approaching you mid conversation with Lionel Richie. She waits patiently beside you to finish your conversation, instantly grabbing your hand after you hug him.

"Alright now Mrs. social butterfly," You scoff at her remark. "We have an after party to attend! We're heading back to the hotel to change and arrive fashionably late. You'll be the talk of the night!" Lia smiles brightly at you, guiding you through the crowd towards your valet.

"I'm not showing up in this dress?" You questioned, waving at the cameras trying to capture a good shot of you.

"Girl, no. That's the point of afterparties, to come in a second show stopping outfit! For the Queen of Pop, you have to give them your absolute best." Your security secures you and opens the door of your car for you as you and Lia slide in.

"Is Michael already there?" You tilt your head. She looks away momentarily before holding your gaze once more, a hint of timidity behind it.

"No."

You groan knowing he's going to show up around the same time as you. Your spotlight will be stolen and grouped with your counterpart—once again.

"Great."

"Look right here, gorgeous!"

The paparazzi was starving— famished even, when you step out of your car, thanking your security as he holds out a hand for you to take.

You left behind the tight, floor length, sparkling champagne dress and opted for a shorter cut backless dress. There were gold chains connecting along the open back of the bright red number, making you feel oh so sexy.

Smiling, you walk into the afterparty feeling victorious. You managed to evade a clash with Michael, earning your own entrance.

You take in the glamor of the nightclub that's decorated beautifully for the musicians, before you hear Whitney's voice behind you. Your stomach does a flip when you see her with her arm looped over Michael's shoulder, grinning widely at you. Michael's gaze feels heavy, giving you a once over while bitting his bottom lip. You feel ill every time you see him do it, not realizing how attractive he looks.

"Hey girl! Glad you could finally join us, we gotta get you caught up!" Whitney removes her hold on Michael and decides to latch onto you now, steering you towards a more private section. "C'mon now, Michael!"

You feel warm knowing he's getting a full view of your back and you risk a glance behind you. His eyes are locked onto the small of your back so intensely he doesn't notice you've caught him until the last second, his eyes traveling up to yours before quickly looking away in embarrassment.

The smug look on your face remains throughout the night, knowing each time you glanced Michael's direction, he was already staring or acting as if he wasn't a second ago. Your prestigious group took shots and passed a bottle of champagne back and forth throughout the night, while also getting up to dance and socialize with other celebrities.

You can feel the alcohol in your system, not quite drunk but definitely tipsy, when you came back to your private section, sashaying your hips past Michael. His hand reaches for your wrist, grabbing your attention. You turn to him, the low crease of his eyelids showing he was intoxicated. He says something you can't catch under the pound of the music and lean down to his earlobe.

"What was that?" He pulls you closer to him, his hand moving to your waist, making you fight off a shiver.

"Come dance with me!" He looks at you excitedly, chewing his gum with a delectable grin.

"C'mon, ain't no press in here girl."

His words are enough to get you onto the lower floor, moving your body along to 'It Takes Two', Michael moving alongside you rhythmically. You enjoy seeing Michael dance so casually, different from the calculated, perfected routines he did on stage.

His hands find a hold on your waist, gripping you tightly while your arms link around his neck. The heat between the two of you begins to feel noticeable, as if it was tangible. Something a tension that only two decades of yearning can create.

You rock your hips, the feeling of Michael's proximity and the buzz tingling through your body from the music and alcohol, gives you the courage to gaze up into his already dark state. The quiet, reserved Michael you tend to know wasn't the same man standing before you with a fire lit behind his irises. Your lips part in a genuine display of shock, admiring the way he's making you feel seen by him, finally.

You detach from his hold slightly to turn your back to him, stepping close to him as you sway your hips seductively. You don't get the chance to see the way his bottom lip gets sucked between his teeth, nor the faint sound that leaves his lips upon feeling you press against him.

His hands find a place low on your hips as you practically throw your ass back on him, your back flush against his chest.

"I got an image to uphold, dear. You keep that up and we're gonna be front page news." He spoke lowly in your ear, his soft tone earning a sly grin from you as you turn back to face him. You grip the side of his face, bringing him towards his ear to speak freely.

"We're front page news either way. Let's give them something good."

Your playful comment has him dragging you towards the door, making a pit stop at the phone to call your security detail.

"Hey, Sam it's me. Send my car back to the hotel."

You expect the shutter of the cameras when the two of you rush out of the dark nightclub, shouts and hollers from the media trying to gather either of yours attention.

"Michael! Our king and queen! Over here!"

He holds the door open to his car, ushering you inside before following right behind, slamming the door. You're both in a fit of giggles as the driver asks Michael where to. He composes himself enough to direct him back to his hotel before the divider slides shut with a mechanical whir.

"For someone so particular about his image, you seemed to let go just for a second there." You tilt your head at him, catching the shy Michael start to creep back in when his eyes drop to his lap briefly.

"Yeah… That's what a bit of a buzz and twenty years of-" He cuts himself off, eyes going wide. You glance at him confused, catching a battle wage across his features.

"Mikey, what's wrong? Twenty years of…?" You question using his nickname reserved just for you, one you called him when you were younger.

His big brown eyes meet yours anxiously, a shy grin spreading. "It's what twenty years of being in love with you will do." He finishes faintly, his eyes struggling to keep contact with your own shocked, bright ones. If you were anyone else, his aviators would have been on, unable to fully get a glimpse of his vulnerability.

"We're so incredibly stupid," You huff a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. You thought about how the feelings you harbored for years that were disguised as mutual respect, or sometimes resentment, were a way to keep yourself guarded. "I've been ignoring how I feel for you since I was fourteen, Mikey."

His eyes nearly pop out of his head at your revelation, his hands flying to your knees that are turned towards him.

"You're not fooling with me are you?" He speaks your name with such delicacy it makes you feel lightheaded. You shake your head, planting your hands on top of his.

"I could never. I don't think…anyone else could understand me in the way you always have." You nearly knock the wind out of Michael's lungs, as his grin grows wider.

"I've…I've always felt the same way," He flips his hands to squeeze your own. "You have no idea how many songs of mine you've helped produce." His voice drops in the slightest, illuminating the underlying meaning in his words. You feel a fire ignite in your belly, taking a hand and dragging it up to his chest to spur a reaction.

"Oh yeah? Which ones?"

"That's a secret." His voice came out soft as he spoke, his bright, toothy smile making you reflect back at him in the same way with an airy laugh. "May I… kiss you?" He asked gently, cupping your face with his large palm. His gaze is pure adoration, fixating on your plump lips before connecting back at eyes.

You answer him simply by closing the distance, your lips connecting like the final pieces of a puzzle. You sigh against his lips, pure bliss filling your senses as he grips your waist, moving his lips gently with yours. When he pulls away to watch your face, he hovers close enough to feel your breaths puff across his face.

"The Lady in my Life." He says, looking into your eyes with a careful glint.

"What… What about it?" You nearly whisper, toying a finger into his jheri curl.

"I wrote that for you. The Lady in my Life will always be you."

You don't give him a second to think before you're crashing your lips into his, full of passion and desire this time. He lets out a muffled noise, finally moving along with you. Staying connected, you climb into his lap, settling perfectly there. He already is half-hard, stirring a whine from you as you grind your hips down into him, his own grip gliding you against him.

You seperate for a moment to take a gulp of air before diving back into each other, your center meeting his own with a suppressed moan. He began to tug on your bottom lip just as the car slowed to a complete stop, halting your actions. Michael pulls away with a groan, resting his forehead against your own as you try to catch your breaths.

"We got maybe 30 seconds before they open that door. We should make ourselves presentable." He sighs against you, closing his eyes briefly as if he was relishing in the moment. You slide off his lap, readjusting your dress and wiping the lipstick from off your face as Michael straightened out his rumpled shirt, playing with his hair to look put together again.

By the time you make it through the threshold of his room, you're practically throwing yourself on him again, his noise of surprise becoming muffled between your lips as he locks the door behind him with one hand, the other slotted at your hip. He breaks away and directs you towards the bed, swatting at your ass once as he admires the design of your backless dress.

You sat on the plush king sized bed, looking up at Michael seductively as he slowly approaches you. "Gonna be shy with me, Mikey?" You tease, an eyebrow raised.

A knowing, sly grin spreads on his face as he stands before you, bringing a hand under your chin to tilt up towards him.

"Not when I've been.. burning… with desire for you for this long." Goosebumps form on your skin from his words just as he leans down, pressing his soft lips to yours.

You pull him on top of you, immediately comforted by the feel of his weight against you. The kiss held the same intensity displayed in the car, with Michael gently spreading your legs wider to nestle against your core. You moan into his mouth as he grinds his hips into yours painstakingly slow, his teeth pulling at your bottom lip as he pulls away, leaving a trail of kisses long your neck.

You try to shift your hips up, connecting with his clothed hardness and both groaning in sync. Your panties were sticking to you now, creating a wet patch on Michael's designer pants from where you met.

"Mikey, baby." He hums into your neck in response, working his way down to kiss down the valley of your breasts. "I need you to touch me. So bad."

You feel his smile against your skin as he traveled lower, your cocktail dress fully bunched up around your waist now. He kisses your inner thighs, shifting from one leg to the other, before you feel him right at your center, dragging a long finger along your soaked pussy. You whine and frantically grab at the sheets next to you, peering down at him as he presses a kiss against your covered folds. He loops his fingers around the thin material and with a slight raise of your hips, is able to drag them down fully. He groans at the sight of you spread out so bare for him and you can't help but spread wider.

"You have such a pretty pussy, prettier than I imagined." The word sounds vulgar coming from his sweet mouth, which turns you on even more, sending a fresh wave of arousal down to your pussy in response.

"Can I taste you, sweet girl?" He asks, his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin closest to your aching core. You frantically nod your head, forcing out a yes just as frantic, eager to feel him on you. He smiles at your desperation before he dips down, licking a long stripe straight up to your clit. You jolt and cry out, feeling his warm tongue flick along your clit, wasting no time in leaving you a withering mess. He gazes up to watch your every reaction, enjoying the way your lips are between your teeth before you fall back against the bed, pushing your hips up into his mouth.

He alternates between burying his tongue deep in your hole and pleasuring your clit, his nose bumping against you and stimulating you even more. Your hands are in his curls, keeping him in place as he slurps up every drop of your essence, wanting nothing more than to feel you gush around his face.

He works a finger in while sucking on your sensitive bud, earning a moan from you. The stretch was making you delirious, whining about how much you needed his cock.

"Not till you finish for me." He speaks against you, sending vibrations to your stomach. You feel the familiar twist in your gut signaling you're close to your climax, mumbling how close you are when a second finger goes in, scissoring you open for him.

"Mikey… I… Please…" You plead, just desperately searching for your release. His tongue and finger moves in tandem, moving quickly to bring you to your peak. Michael grinds his hips into the bed, searching for friction while your legs begin to shake above him, the tightrope inside of you snapping. You cry out his name, grinding your hips into his face as you ride out the waves of release, Michael groaning into your pussy as your slick leaks all over his tongue.

His movements still as you catch your breath, still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. The loss of his fingers from your hole nearly makes you whine before the sight of him takes your breath away.

His eyes sparkle at you while he wipes your juices from his face, cheeks lightly flushed and his curls a mess from your grip. He slides his fingers into your mouth and you suck on the digits, holding eye contact while swirling your tongue along the finger pads, eliciting a soft moan from him. He pulls them out and makes quick work of pulling your dainty dress over your head, your full body on display for him as he watches in awe.

"Are you gonna join me or do I have to rip all of this off you myself?" You question with a tug on his trousers. His suit jacket was already lost earlier, making it easier to pop open his buttons while you pry off the heavy belt around his waist. Your hands are on his zipper before he lays a hand on top of yours, opting to do it himself.

"You just lay your pretty self right there." He speaks sweetly, his eyes carrying a shadow of nervousness that's mostly masked behind the profound lust. You've known Michael all your life— you know he's feeling shyer now.

You're about to speak before the sight of him in all of his glory has your mouth opening. You hone in at the sheer size and girth of him before glancing up at him, his lip between his teeth as he feels uneasy under your heavy gaze.

"Mikey, what happened to you not getting shy on me?" You offer a faux pout as he huffs a laugh.

"I'm not… I mean not really it's just… you know, I've liked you for so long and- and I can't believe-" You shut him up sitting up on your knees and dragging him towards the bed, gently pushing him back onto the soft mattress next to you. His eyes flash with shock, opening his mouth to speak before you plant a finger over his lips, looking down at him with an eyebrow quirked.

"I've thought about this probably as much as you have," You state simply, watching his wide eyes light up. "For the love of everything good, if I don't ride you right now, I'll go insane."

He nods as if his mouth had gone dry and scoots towards the middle of the bed. You swing a leg around him, straddling his lap as his hard dick pokes against your lower stomach. You grab him and begin to line the tip up with your leaking hole, his breaths growing heavy under you.

"Relax, pretty boy. Gonna make you feel real good." You purr right as you start to sink down, his mouth hanging open from the feel of your walls going down on him.

You ease down his thick length, pausing to accommodate to the stretch. Micheal's hands come to your waist, gently caressing you in encouragement. You sink all the way down with a moan, Michael whimpering as you pulsate around him. You give an experimental drag of your hips, lifting up and sinking back down once, making him moan loudly.

You start to bounce, steadying yourself with a grip on his shoulders as you slide down his length, both of your moans filling the room. His hands are gripped iron tight on your waist, watching with glazed over eyes as you ride his dick, the slick sounds your bodies produce becoming music to your ears.

You clench around him when he squeezes your ass, making him choke out a strangled noise of pleasure. You’re grinning in pure bliss, the stretch of his cock better than you ever imagined, your pussy leaking around him in response. When his cock hits you at a certain angle, you double over into his chest with a cry.

"Right there was good?" He questions, brows furrowing. You nod and don't notice his shift in demeanor until he starts pounding into you from below, eager to help you reach that spot again. The smack of skin on skin fills the room as he ravishes you from below, his large palms guiding you down to meet his thrusts by gripping your ass tightly.

You moan his name and squeeze him tightly as he fucks up into you, roughly smacking your ass. You leave a white creamy ring around his dick as you ride him, his hand connecting with your ass once more after seeing your reaction, crying out for more. Your clit rubs against his pelvic bone with each thrust, sending sensations to your aching clit. You rub the sensitive bud while Michael reaches for your breast bouncing in his face, squeezing the flesh there.

"Riding me so good… oh god… you're sinful." He nibbles at your earlobe as he talks into your ear, building up your second orgasm of the night. Your cunt squelches embarrassing loud but you're too fucked out to even care, moaning as you feel your peak approaching with each drag of Michael's cock.

"Mikey, I'm so close!" You cry out, feeling his dick hit deeply inside of you. His own soft moans and whimpers bring you to your release as you tighten around him, throwing your head back with a loud moan. He doesn't let up his pace as you ride out your orgasm, shaking as he pounds into your dripping walls desperately, chasing his own release.

He's about to pull you off him as his climax approaches, but you keep your legs firm around him, squeezing your walls tightly around him and sinking down on his cock to meet his thrusts. "Inside of me, let me milk you baby." You say with a drag of your hand along his chest.

He looses it at the thought of filling you with his seed, his thrusts becoming sloppy as his dick twitches, hot ropes of cum spilling out of him with a cry of your name.

You stay on top of him for a while, catching your breaths. His hand is firm on your back, gently sliding soothing patterns up and down your skin. You pull off of him shortly after, leaning back to let him watch his cum slowly drip out of your hole and onto the sheets. You take your finger and stuff the rest back into you, making Michael groan at the filthy sight.

"You're gonna be the death of me, woman." He sighs, giving a completely fucked out smile at you.

"The headlines tomorrow may take you out before I ever do." You tease, knowing the press were having a field day seeing the two of you get into the same car earlier.

"The King and Queen of pop finally together? Could be worse things to write about." He looks at you playfully, turning your hand over to plant a kiss at the back of it.

"They're already planning our wedding details!" You giggle, not catching the way his eyes falter for a second.

"Did you miss the lyrics in The Lady in my Life? I've been envisioning it."

You tackle him, littering his face with kisses as he cackles like a young kid, giddy that he finally had you in his arms.

And for the rest of his life, he silently prays.