‘84!grammy’s michael who makes you cum with his tongue once for every award he gets 🙂↕️🙂↕️ after the third time you’re pushing him off and he props himself up, his big eyes searching yours desperately, fumbles for your hand, leaves your slick dripping down his chin, “no—no don’t push me off mama, ain’t you proud of me? this is my reward!”
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; in which you can’t get over how good michael looks in that outfit
you knew better than this; honestly- you did. you knew you shouldn’t follow michael to his music video shoots, knowing full well what watching him work did
but you did it anyway
and christ, was this one difficult. he’d walked out of the dressing room, clad in black, belts strapped to his thighs, his waist, buckles gleaming in the harsh studio lights. and he had the audacity to smile, and give you a spin — “don’t i look cool, baby!” he exclaimed. oh. he was so so excited for this, thought he looked so cool. you felt almost sinful for the way you could only focus on how your panties were dampening from the mere sight of him
of course, you didn’t last long. you turned into exactly what you hated — the needy girlfriend. kissing just below his ear, the spot you knew just made him shiver, right after he was done with the bit of dancing they’d managed to perfect, laughing with him as he giggled, “stop that—“ but you could see the way he was blushing. perfect. kept coming to sit on his lap every time he managed to find a second to sit down, adjusting yourself just right over the bulge in his pants so he had to cough and turn away from whoever he was chatting to.
“are you—uh- you okay?” he managed to get out when you did it for the third time. you just grinned down at him and shook your head, leaning around him to press a sloppy little kiss right under his jaw. he was started to get all hot and bothered. just like you needed him.
michael had been racking his brain all afternoon trying to figure out what on earth could be the matter with you, why you were practically nuzzling against him like a cat in heat, why your eyes trailed hot blazes down his frame…
oh.
he noticed it then. watched as you tried to pay attention to whoever was talking to you, watched how your legs were jittery. noticed your soft thighs pressing together every time your eyes managed to rake over to him. oh.
poor baby.
it took everything in him to find the confidence to finally act on it though. he’d never initiated anything like this in public, especially not when he was the focus of the entire session. but he found a loophole, anxiety churning in his gut as he watched what was essentially the entire crew take a break for lunch. that’s when he grabbed you
“—mike, what ‘ryou” you said, stunned as a fingerless glove clad hand grabbed your wrist and tugged you away from your company. he shushed you immediately, tugging you close to his side as he whispered down at you, “shh, sh baby, please — just gimme a sec”
it didn’t take long until he found the bathroom.
the mirrors had long since fogged up since he’d dragged you in here, pushed you against the sink with his hips. he towered over you, big black combat boots making him taller than his already tall stature, muscles strengthened from years of throwing himself into dance boxing you against the sink.
his hand down your pants.
his fingers had first tentatively brushed against your clif, boxing you in with a hand on the other side of the sink beside you, pushing you until you bent over — trying to quieten you, thumb dusting over your clit as you mewled, he simply responded with, “no i know, i know baby,, shhh”
he could feel himself growing hard behind you, the friction of your hips bucking into his hand causing you to brush against his throbbing length confined by his tight pants. but all he could focus on was the way you were already falling apart in his hands, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead — entirely aware of the location, “please honey” he whispered, voice laboured by lust as he knocked his forehead against yours from behind, “go-gotta be quiet mama, please” he urged, so desperate
but it was really his fault you were making the noises you were, he got so scared by the fact he could hear footsteps just past the door, he jumped! shoving his fingers deep into your pussy. he flushed when you cried out, immediately clamping a hand over your mouth and pulling you back into him, the warmth surrounding his fingers making him falter as he dropped his lips to your hair, slightly sweaty from the exertion he was putting your body under as he curled his long fingers against that spongey spot inside, he almost couldn’t take it when you keened a pretty little “michael” from behind his hand, pushing his hand tighter against your lips, groaning at the feeling of your spit wetting his palm as he kissed the top of your head, “i know, i know — ‘m- ‘m sorry mama, cmon for me baby”
his fingers slipped into your mouth, moving in unconscious tandem with his fingers shoved knuckle deep into your pussy, working you open from both ends, growing impossibly redder himself as he fucked you on his hand, getting all shy and hiding his face when you let out a garbled little whimper against his hands, “ff-fuck” he muttered, head knocking against your spine between your shoulder blades.
and he couldn’t stop fucking his own hips against your ass, pushing you both further towards release as he let his hand slip out of your cunt, circling your clit impossibly fast as he fucked against your ass.
and as you both came, he crashed his lips against yours, fingers hooking in your hair as he spines you, pushing his pelvis against your wet core to dry hump you both through it as he spilled into his too tight pants, and you dripped down your legs
and poor baby :( he was so embarrassed after, shaky hands pruned from your wetness wiping the slick off your legs, pressing hurried little kisses to your lips — “feels good? yeah? yeah? that felt good? oh—“ he gets all jittery, looking down at his pants, unsure what to do, “y-yeah i felt good too mama”
you have to sit him down on the toilet seat with a little chuckle, stroke his face gently until he calms down with a little, “what’s the matter?”
“everybody’s gonna know i—“ he points down to his pants, “y’know” and it seems like he interrupts himself mentally? brows furrowing as he looks up at you with those big bambi eyes — “but — just saw how needy you were, wanted to help you mama i—“
you cut him off with a kiss
“listen mikey, i’ll get you some new pants, but you need to chill the hell out”
; in which you make grammys!michael feel so good to calm his nerves
— you could see it written all over michael’s face. he didn’t know whether he should love being here or absolutely hate it. the nerves, the anxiety, all of it was getting to him, the pride he should be feeling being completely overshadowed by the anxiety
he kept trying to meet your gaze, in the meanwhile you were trying not to be rude, conversing with those around you, smiling, laughing, joining in. you didn’t even notice the poor little puppy eyes michael was shooting you from juuust right next to you
and he did just look so pitiful, glasses covering half his face, lower lip bit between his teeth in a way which to most would be attractive, but you knew your mikey, you knew that was a sign of worry. you pressed your thumb to his lower lip, removing it from his teeth’s hold, “w’sup, baby?”
“oh nothin’ much, mama” his voice was so quiet and soft and sweet, but tinged with that little bit of nerves that read in the way his hand clenched tighter at your skirts, trying to ground himself. hardly even flinched when you gripped his chin, forcing his eyes to meet yours, “i said what’s up?” you whispered, the sound of your voice alone clearly already starting to calm him as he leant forward imperceptibly, “go on, use your big words, mikey”
he swallowed at that, and you could see his big bambi eyes scanning the room from behind his glasses, anxious as the jewelled glove scrunched itself tighter in your skirts, “m’ just nervous, is all” he muttered, cheeks all rosy as he tried to duck his head away from yours, rubbing at the back of his neck, “and what do you expect me to do about that?” you whispered back, pushing his own hand away as you slid your fingers into his curls at the back of his nape, twisting them carefully so not to disturb his burn, but just enough to make him hiss. not in pain. no.
“please” he mumbles, cheeks growing even rosier under his sunglasses
and that’s how you ended up here <3
his head dropped down onto your collarbone, hushed little pants falling from his lips like he couldn’t dare to hold them in anymore as you worked your hand up and down his pretty dick. and it was so pretty, achingly hard, smooth, curved, the pretty tip flushed a beautifully deep shade of red, disappearing every time your hand slipped over it to work at his head
“feels good, huh?” you whispered into his ear, free hand tipping under his chin to force his eyes to meet yours, smiling at the sight in front of you. poor baby was on the verge of tears, sunglasses discarded onto the toilet seat of the small cubicle you were locked in, him pushed against the wall as you leant against him, jerking his dick to the point where he’s nearly crying, “huh?” you urged
“y-yeah, yeah mama, feels so—“ his eyes fluttered shut, cheeks pink in embarrassment as his hips twitched, strained from not wanting to fuck your fist, he could never be so vulgar! but you could. your heel made its way onto his toe, pressing down gently to elicit that little bit of pain you knew he loved, needed it to ground himself, “i know baby, i know”
you could feel your grip on his dick loosening with the slickness of his pre, pearly white leaking from his throbbing tip as he hid his face into your neck once more, his hands coming around your shoulders in some bizarre sort of a hug, crushing you against him as he groaned — well, sobbed — with the knot forming in his stomach,
“fuck my hand, mikey, make yourself feel good baby” you stepped back, watching him — flushed, beautiful, shy. you just nodded. he, of course, obeyed, whimpering — just a little, before his hips started to rut into your hand. and poor baby, you could just see the moment it set in for him, how good it felt to fuck your fist like he wanted to
his face contorted in utter passion, his light stage makeup starting to sweat down his face as he blubbered and whimpered and sobbed as he started to fuck your fist harder
and then, he came
and it was beautiful
hot pearly ropes shooting up your wrist, down onto the floor, his big hands coming up to cover his face because he was just so so embarrassed. and he looked so cute, hips n dick still twitching as he rode out the last of his orgasm
“i can’t go back out there” you heard him groan from behind his palms as you were busy gathering all his cum from where it’d splattered across your wrist, you just hummed and caught his face once more
making him watch as your cum soaked finger slid into your mouth. his dick twitched violently against your thigh
“bet you’re not nervous now”
“now come on, i wanna watch my man sweep the grammys!”