SuperNova

Hello, I’m Mitch/Nova, Welcome to my blog.

I created this mainly to write secretly away from my main, which I never much used anyways.

I’m largely clueless about how Tumblr functions, be patient w/ me as I figure it out.

Ft. The infamous trans zine: Fucking Trans Women

It’s almost pride month, I’m feeling extra queer.

Michael Jackson x Male!Reader

Featuring: Artist Reader, Insecure Michael, Morning Sex, Anal- Michael bottoming.

A/N- sorry for the long wait, NSFW fics don’t glow as easy in my mind as SFW, I get caught up in making sure it’s not too horrible rushed and makes sense :,)

Sleep had always eluded Michael. He was the last to fall asleep, and the first to rise. Usually.

This morning was a rare occasion; for once, you had woken to Michael's sleeping figure, softly snoring from behind you. You had no intention of disrupting him, you would've laid there all day if you had to- if it weren't for the pressure growing in your bladder.

It took a few minutes to successfully detangle yourself from Michael without waking him up. And by the time you got back, he was still fast asleep. Not wanting to wake him up— because, god, did he need more sleep — you decided to one something else to do, rather than getting back in bed with him.

Not straying far, you grabbed your charcoals, curling up in a chair in the corner of the room. It was a perfect vantage point for drawing your muse, fitting too, to have chosen charcoal as your medium, when Michael had been the one to buy them for you.

You hadn't intended on buying anything when you had stepped into that pricey art store, you just wanted a look, some inspiration. But of course, Michael had noticed your eyes lingering, and had attempted to buy the store's entire stock. It had taken a lot of pleading to make him knock it off, you even had to drag the man out of the store by his sleeve. It didn't end there though, as things never do when it comes to Michael; he tends to always get his way. The next day when you came home, there they were, the pack of charcoal sticks on the table, surrounded by high quality papers, powders, brushes, and blending stubs. Michael had looked up at you with pleading eyes and a soft smile, making it impossible to be upset with him.

It took a while to get used to drawing with charcoal, it left a mess on you hands and smudged easily. Each new attempt had left you frustrated and willing to give up, to trash the damn things and get it over with- but every time, Michael would beg to see what you had made — how could you deny him? —and deemed it fine art of the highest praise. He'd been the one to buy you the materials, and he was the reason you stuck with it.

Finally confident in your skills, it was time to draw him, and now was as good a time as ever.

His sleeping face held a softness to it, none of the stress he tried to dampen in your presence, nor any of the false joy he put on around fans. It was purely Michael.

The sun was starting to seep in the windows, softly illuminating his face, amplifying his beauty.

First you sketched an outline of his sleeping figure, one arm curled behind his head, and one stretched out in the spot you had previously lied in, reaching out for you in your absence. You sketched the blankets draped over his lower half, the minor divot in the mattress where he lay.

His mouth was slightly ajar, lashes fanning down on his cheeks. His hair was untamed, splayed on the bed behind him, on the pillows, curls laying across his face.

You had drawn his jaw and nose, beginning to shade them in as he began to stir. His arm slowly stretched further across the bed, feeling for you, his eyes fluttering open as he realized you were missing.

"Mmm, wha' you doin' over there…" Michael's voice was rough and sloppy with fatigue, he took in a deep breath, rubbing his eyes as he shifted in the bed, propping himself up as he leaned on his arm.

"Just admiring the view" You replied, tearing you eyes away from his form as you attempted to finish the sketch of his prior position before his new one distracted you.

'Nothin' special to draw here, don't waste that charcoal."

Your eyes flick up from the drawing pad. Michael was now avoiding your look, staring straight up at the ceiling instead, watching the fan go around and round…

"Don't say that, Michael". You slowly rise from the chair, the portrait of Michael still in your hands, the charcoal long forgotten.

He finally turns his head to you, glancing at the drawing pad in you hand. "You make me look better than I actually do." He whispers.

"Bullshit." Despite the harsh word, your tone was soft. You reach Michael in the bed, placing the picture on one of the pillows as you climb over to him. "I could never capture you in all your beauty, nobody could, you're far beyond the capacity of man."

"I wouldn't say that-" he begins, but you cut him off, reaching out to cradle his face. "I would. And I mean it. You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen, Michael."

Your hand moves,tracing the bridge of his nose, the charcoal on you hands smearing on his face. Your fingers move down to his mouth, it's still parted slightly, his breathing is labored, like he's attempting to restrain — to soothe — himself. His tongue quickly darts out to wet his lips, and licks the tips of your fingers.

You move to settle between his legs, pushing the blanket away as he adjusts to your body against his. Your hand moves down to the crook of his neck, your thumb resting on his adam's apple.

"Don't say that," He whispers. You can feel his throat bobbing under your fingers.

"Why not?" You ask. "Do I need to show you how beautiful you are, how much I love you?" You begin to kiss down his chest, down to his navel, ignoring his cock filling out, and moving down between his legs. Michael's breath, stutters, and you look back up at him, admiring the trail of charcoal your hands have left on his body. His brows are furrowed slightly as he closes his eyes and begins to tilt his head of the the ceiling.

"No- Michael, sweetheart, look at me."

He swallows, and obeys, looking down at you through his lashes.

Under his gaze, you kiss the inside of his thighs, letting out a breathy chuckle as his muscles tense under your attention. You spread his legs further, and press a soft kiss against his hole.

He lets out a gasp, one of his hands moving down to your hair. "That's not- That's not fair…"

"What's not?" You lick up stripe up from his ass to his balls.

"You teasin' me like that! Kissin' all over me…" His fingers grab at the hair close to your scalp before releasing again, caressing you with shaky fingers.

"M'not teasing you, Mikey, just admiring you. Proving to you how pretty you are." And with that, you get back to work, softly licking and kissing him, hooking an arm beneath his leg to hike it up on your shoulder, granting you more entry.

Michael digs his heel into your back, hips tensing as he strained under your attention.

"C'mon…please…" He continues whining above you.

You relent, emerging from between his thighs, resting your face where his thigh meets his stomach, just inches away from his cock. "Please, what?"

"Touch me! Quit playin'…"

"I am touchin' you, is this not enough for you, pretty boy?"

He throws his head back, frustrated.

"Oh…I see" You move back, using a finger to circle his hole. "You want me to touch you." You bring you fingers to your mouth to spit on them, before bringing them back to him and prodding.

His leg on the bed spread even further, the one on your back digging in as he tries to gain more leverage and push into you fingers.

You slip a finger into him, slowly curling it as you kiss his thigh.

Michael begins to shift under you, getting needy.

"Greedy baby." You kiss his flushed tip, slowly swallowing him while to distract him as you insert another finger, slowly working him open.

His breathy moans increase as you continue, lithe muscles flexing as the dual stimulation melts his senses. Beneath you, he's struggling on which direction he seeks attention from, either your fingers in him or your mouth around him.

"Please, please, please…" He begins to mutter.

"What? You need more? Am I not giving you enough?"

"I just-"

You cut him off. "Are you ready for me? Do you think you can take it?"

"Yes! Please, I want it, I want you, all of you."

You slide your fingers out from where he was clenched around you, and he whines at the loss of contact. Eagerly, you peel off the boxers you had haphazardly thrown on earlier that morning, freeing your previously ignored cock from its confines.

Michael glances at you between his legs, and you could swear his pupils grow even larger- if even possible.

His legs wrap around your waist, drawing you closer.

You lean over him, moving to bracket his head with your for arms on the mattress, pausing halfway to align yourself with his hole before slowly pushing in.

The two of you remain still for a few moments as he adjusted. He was gripping you like a vice, and it took all your effort to just stay still.

Your face was inches from him, the two of you breathing into eachother. Michael closed the gap and kisses you, his legs tightening around your waist as you groan.

"Alright, alright, c'mon, please…" He begs.

You pepper kisses down his face to his neck where you bury your head, breathing him in as you begin to move your hips against him, a tantalizing grinding motion.

As your motions begin to quicken, your hips drawing back further and further before you rail back into him, his hands reach up, racking across your skin. One hand grasping at the hair on your nape, the other dragging trails across your back with his blunt nails. Later, he'd apologize, near tears, guilty about hurting you. You'd show him just how much you appreciate those marks, though.

For now, however, you focused on your goal on pleasuring him.

Picking up the pace, you pivot your hips up slightly with every thrust, your cock brushing against his prostate.

With each thrust, Michael let out quite gasps of pleasure.

"'Feels so good…" His hand tightens on your hair, guiding your face up from the crook of his neck so he could kiss you.

It ended up sloppy and wet, too much teeth to be soft, but neither of you wanted to calm your movements, both seeking release in eachother.

"Thank you…'so good to me" Michael's words are split up with kisses peppered to your mouth.

"Shhh…” You silence him, shifting your weight to one arm as your other hand moves to his throat, slightly squeezing.

Michael lets out a groan, his eyelids fluttering at the gesture.

"Just giving you what you need, sweetheart. You deserve the world … 'n so much more." With your words, you quicken your pace, the hand on his throat moving down to grip his cock between your bodies.

Circling your thumb around his head, you smear the precum that had begun to pool, using it to soften the friction as you began to flick your wrist in time with your thrusts.

He begins to babble beneath you, pleading for release.

"You gonna come for me, baby?"

"Yes, yes, please, I need it." His face is contorted with pleasure as he frantically nods. You can feels his muscles beginning to tighten all around you.

"S'alright Angel Face, I got you- I'm right here with you."

When he comes, it's with a final whimper of pleasure, his cum spurting between your fingers, painting your stomachs sticky. His ass tightens around you, and you find you can no longer hold back either, cumming inside him, biting down softly on the crook of his neck.

You both remain still for a while, catching your breaths, the morning sun beaming in through the windows. Michael's hands tracing circles on your back. He's the first to speak, "Did you really mean what you meant earlier?"

You hum questioningly into his neck.

"Y'know…" He trails off, self conscious.

You left your head up, pressing your forehead against his. "I've never meant anything else more. You are the most beautiful man in the world Michael. Don't you ever, not for one second, think anything else."

"You're just sweet on me." He leans up to capture your lips in a slow, soft kiss.

"What, do I need to show you again?"

"Mmm.." He pretends to think for a second. "Maybe once more, just to be sure." He gives you a sly smile.

You chuckle, finally detangling from him, slowly pulling out your softening cock from him as he groans.

"C'mon Mikey, let's go take a shower, we made a mess"

Michael Jackson x Dancer!Male Reader

Male Reader has recently been hired as a dancer for Michael, some dirty dancing ensues while rehearsing.

Featuring: Brief mentions of masturbation, Mirror Sex, Grinding, Oral (Reader Giving), Dacryphilia, Whimpering!Michael, sweat...

A/N: Yo! first fic on tumblr... Tbh like the first half is just building, feel free to skip if u a freak!!! i realized how much i focused on sweat in this, mb, im a queer guy i can't help it. I'm also not a dancer...at all...I'm pulling this out of my butt.

They had signed you on after one of Michael's back-up dancers broke his leg. It wasn't supposed to be permanent, just until the other man could get back on his feet- literally.

You had clawed your way up to this, tooth and nail until you were finally at the right hand of the King himself, and by god, were you going to make the best of it; however short lived it may be.

It had taken years in the art realm to get to this point, ages of being side casted in the theater, eons of dancing for B-List musicians — until finally someone had noticed you — wilting away under shittly managed lighting, backing vocals for musicians who's voices cracked like teenager's — and they decided to boost you up to the next level.

It was for your looks, likely, that you had been scouted. The muscles that you had meticulously sculpted, equal parts aesthetic and effective. Female dancers had rushed to be your partner- they knew you wouldn't drop them- while the other male dancers stared with jealousy.

It was for that reason you had been chosen. Sex appeal. Sure, you were a good dancer, gifted, talented at your job; but the physical appeal was something that really stole the show.

Although, it was mostly luck that Michael's agency had spotted you at just the right time. Sad for the poor fellow who had broken his leg, but it was your turn now.

The screening process was almost mundane. A quick glance at your reference sheet, a few costume designers stripping you down to your boxers and measuring damn near every inch of you, and some poor middle man worker who had to talk you through what they had planned for you here.

"Look, you're a great dancer, we've seen some tapes- god they were suffocating you down in those dumps they had you performing in. Stick with Michael for a few months, gain a reputation, make the fans go wild, and when his previous guy gets better? Poof, you're on your way to further seas. Broader horizons." The man hardly spared you a look as he talked, leading you through the building as he scanned his note pad. "We had plenty of dancers lined up, but you've got the looks kid. Dance with Michael and the girls will go crazy. Maybe he'll show you his ways, huh?" He had finally lead you to the front of the building, holding the door open for you to leave. "Next Monday, Six AM, wear something you can dance in. We'll have someone show you to the studio." The man finally looked up from his notes. "Good luck kid."

Later that night, the man's lecture through the halls kept running through your head.

Dance with Michael and the girls will go crazy.

That was great and all, but you didn't want the girls to go crazy. Far from it.

Sticky high school fumbling with girls had left you unsatisfied. Boys in the bathrooms of dive bars after shows left an itch unscratched, left you aching. You had been stuck in a cycle of dissatisfaction for far too long, and when the face of Michael flashed behind your eyes- you felt a hunger needing to be satiated.

Idolization was too little a word for what you felt. Lust, desire, not just for the opportunities being signed with him could bring you, but for the man himself.

You weren't going to fuck this up.

You arrived early that Monday. Five AM.

You had spent the week analyzing his prior tours. Watching and re-watching the dances and moves with growing anticipation and ever tightening pants. Some nights, just watching the videos of him left you hard and leaking in your boxers. The thought of touching yourself had plagued you, but you never gave in. A sense of guilt souring your desire. It felt wrong to jerk off to the man who was going to be your boss.

Instead, you distracted yourself in other ways. Porn and fantasies of a faceless man- not Michael, no, you wouldn't let yourself go that far. Instead conjuring images of bending some slender, curly haired man over, grinding against him behind closed doors, kneeling for him as he whimpered above you. The guilt was killing you, but you couldn't stop. Every time, right as you reached the brink, that faceless man would turn into Michael.

Your heart was pounding as you stood outside the building, you felt as if they could smells the sins off of you, that they would no what you had done. The front door opened and you jumped, muscles tensing.

"You the new dancer?" It was some shrewd looking front desk worker.

"Yeah, that's me."

"You're early." Her eyes narrowed at you as they roamed across your body.

"I don't mind waiting, I just didn't want to be late"

"Hm. No bother, just come on in already, I'll show you to the studio."

That shocked you. You had expected her to lock you out until Six and glare at you through the glass doors from behind the front desk.

She didn't wait for your shock to abide, she hardly even noticed it, instead she began walking into the building, leaving you to lunge to grab the door before it closed.

After chasing the woman through the winding halls, she finally led you to a door, opening it and gesturing you in.

"Make yourself comfortable, the other dancers and choreographer should be here soon. At six." She gave you one final glare before she walked away, the door shutting behind her.

The room was large, plain with tiled floor and ceilings, one wall was fully consumed by a mirror, a side wall contained only a ballet bar at waist height.

You walked over, placing your bag against the back wall, rummaging through it to grab your Walkman and headphones. Clipping it to your shorts, the mix-tape began to play in your ears.

You began stretching, warming your muscles up, peaking in the mirror to correct your form, watching as your tank top and shorts slightly bunched up with the movements.

Moving on to real work, you began dancing through the set list for Michael's upcoming tour. Going of your memory, you went through the motions, making up sections where you had forgotten the choreo. You were watching yourself in the mirror, but all you could see was yourself dancing with Michael on stage, getting closer, and closer. Dancing with the man rather than behind him.

"Is that new, or am I just forgetting my moves?"

You tensed, both feet back on the floor, hands ripping off your headphones as you scanned the mirror, seeing the reflection of a man behind you.

You spun around to find Micheal leaning in the door way, a shy smile on his face, a curl falling down in front of his face.

"Ah, no, that'd be me, I'm afraid I haven't memorized all the dances yet, so I just-"

"Went with the flow?" He asked, moving from the door and slowly walking towards you in the middle of the room.

You let out a huff, "Yeah…"

"Well it was good! Real good, might have to take some of those moves on stage, huh?" He stopped arms length away. You watched his lips curl as he smiled at you. He raised his hand. "Michael."

"Yeah." You reached up and grabbed his hand, shaking it. His grip was firm. You hoped he couldn't smell the sweat coming off of you.

He lifted an eyebrow at your lack of response, chuckling a bit and releasing your hand. "What are you doing here so early?"

You looked at the clock; it was only 5:30. "I just didn't want to be late, first day, y'know…"

"Yeah, Yeah, I heard about you, its a shame Jamie broke his leg, but you look like you'll do just fine- especially with those new moves."

You rubbed the back of your neck, embarrassed- and god, you really were sweaty, you could feel it slick underneath your hand, cool under your arm from its lifted position.

Michael's eyes drifted across your body, from your chest to your arm, to your hand behind your neck, and finally back up to your face.

You try to leave his lingering gaze behind, striking up a conversation with him about the dance moves you had forgotten. The two of you talk until more people begin to show up, and rehearsal officially starts.

Your talks became a reoccurring event, both of you showing up long before rehearsal started, and staying long after it ended. Dancing together, bouncing ideas off each other, talking.

It was another one of those nights, the last person had left an hour ago, leaving the two of you sweating and panting, woozy with exhaustion, yet not wanting to stop.

You were frustrated and he could see it. You couldn't get the damn move down. Every time you ran it back, thinking you had it, and it evaded you every time.

"No, no, it's like this" Michael was suddenly behind you, his chest plastered against your back.

From the mirror, you could see his head just above your left shoulder. The two of you locked eyes as his taped hands found their place on your hips, moving them the beat, his own hips thrusting just inches behind you.

"Yeah, yeah…just like that… keep doin' that…" His hands slowly moved up, meeting your own as your hips continued to thrust in proximity

His fingers intertwined with yours, sliding them down your chest and down to your groin.

You could feel fire building below your navel, begging yourself to keep composed, but it wasn't easy when you were already flustered from dancing all day long, sweat rolling down your neck, your clothes sticking to your body with exertion. You just wanted to tear them off. You could see Michael was high strung too, sweat rolling down his neck, small strands of hair sticking to his forehead as he smiled, making it all look so effortless, so beautiful.

"And tilt your head away from the audience…don't let 'em look you in the eye, keep 'em wanting." His right hand came up to your chin, finger gripping it as he tilted your head towards your shoulder- right were his own head was hovering.

You stopped looking at the mirror, instead glimpsing at him through the corner of your eye. You were so close. You leaned back into him, your hips still thrusting up as he had told you, his hips thrusting up into you.

He let let out a ragged moan, his panting mixing with yours, his eyes flickering shut and his brows furrowing in delight.

You could feel him hard pressed against you, his mouth a breath away from your own. It would be so easy to lean in-

And he did it for you, leaning forwards to capture your lips. The angle was odd, not close enough, just a brushing of lips, but you didn't want to move, not with him grinding into you, one hand on your jaw and the other returning to the tent in your pants.

You moaned into his mouth, the pressure and touch on both sides becoming to much. You didn't want this to end.

"Michael…" You whisper into his mouth. He gives his head a little nod, not wanting to stray far from your, responding with a little "uh huh-"

Jesus he sounded perfect, he felt perfect, he tasted perfect…

You spin around to face him, and he whines at the loss of your mouth. Before he can protest too much, you're backing him into wall, cupping a hand behind his head to soften the landing.

Your mouth is back on his as your hand moves to cradle the side of his face, the other moving to grab his ass, pressing your cock against his through the fabric.

He interrupts the kiss with a moan, his head nuzzling into your hand as you kiss down his throat, licking a stripe up the side to taste him. "Don't…Don't stop…please…"

His pleading voice makes your mind hazy, a cloud of pleasure floating behind your eyes. "Shhh… I won't, don't worry, I got you…" You console him softly, moving further down. You slide down, falling to your knees before him. One of his hands finds your face, and you move to take his thumb into your mouth, sucking on it as you look up at him through hooded eyes.

He meets your eyes before quickly turning his head to the side, his mouth ajar and his eyes closed. His blush was starting to roll down to his neck, vanishing beneath his shirt.

You let his thumb go with a pop, his hand moves to your hair as you lift his shirt up, kissing down his tensed abs to his V-line, breathing into the sparsely haired area. You move lower, mouthing at his dick as it presses against the fabric of his pants. His hips are twitching, moving of their own accord as he tries to stay still for you. You look up at him once more, his eyes are clamped shut, he looks damn near tears.

"Look at me Micheal."

He shakes his head, its still angled to the side, his brows furrowed in pleasure and embarrassment. "I can't-" he whispers, his breathing ragged.

"Yes you can, just look in the mirror, Mikey." Your hand on his hip rubs small comforting circles into the skin there. "It's okay, sweetheart."

He bites his lip, and slowly turns his head to the mirror behind you. His eyes peel open and he gasps at the sight of you kneeling for him. His eyes are watery with unshed tears.

"There you go" You mutter, before slowly peeling his pants and underwear down, just low enough, down to his thighs.

His cock springs up against his stomach, beads of precum smearing.

He looks delicious. You're so hard in your pants it hurts. Your mouth is watering just at the sight of him.

You lean in, grabbing his length with the hand previously on his hip, the other hand kneading his bare ass as you inhale his musk.

"Please, please, pleasepleaseplease…" his eyes are pinned to your reflection in the mirror.

You let out a breathy chuckle kissing his dusky tip, you can feel his dick jump in interest between your fingers, and you give him a few small licks before swallowing him.

He's thick and heavy on your tongue, you can feel a vein running underneath. Breathing in through your nose, you hollow your cheeks and begin to move your head, your hand moves along the uncovered base of his cock.

His breathing become even more shallowed, coming in quick, ragged bursts. His lean muscles are tensing beneath his skin. You look up and see a tear running down his cheek.

You move your head further down his length.

"It'ssogood, ah- you feel so-" His babbles are cut off by a whimper as you swallow him whole, moving you hand down to fondle his balls.

You move yours hips, thrusting into the air, before one of his legs moves between your thighs, giving you the pressure you needed.

"Please, please, 'm so-" He's panting so hard he can barely make out any words "so close…"

You continue grinding against his leg and bobbing your head up and down his dick.

Simultaneously, you feel on fire, yet as if you were floating in the ocean.

Your hand on his ass grips harder, a finger sliding closer to his hole-

And with a whimper, his hand tightens in your hair, burning your scalp as he releases into your throat.

You follow quick after him, hips tensing on his leg, pulling off his cock as you gasp for breath, a final spurt of cum hitting you cheek.

You rest your forehead against his stomach, panting as you lay a soft kiss on him.

His grips loosens and he begins to run his fingers through his hair.

Michael finally looks down at you, smiling softly with wet eyes.

"Oh- I'm sorry, I got all over you…" One of his hands dips down to your cheek.